Friday, November 18, 2011

Wishes for the MORTICIAN !

Even before destiny got them together the DREAMER had known the MORTICIAN; he had known her through the eyes of someone else. Someone else whom he had loved and she also had loved no less. To him she had then been that crazy psychotic creature who incessantly spoke of love and other sad dreams; smart and intelligent with a razor sharp memory; addicted to games of words and mind, wrote gothic poems, read tarot and her favourite colour, black. She was completely crazy; getting musical notes inked on her body hoping to find harmony. Horribly screwed up in life, frustrated, she threw tantrums on everyone around and he was warned and asked to keep safe distance. He knew he would be a real lucky dog if he could manage to be in her good books or else Gods save him. That’s the picture he had of her a year back and so he had all the reasons to avoid her.

But things changed as they propelled away from the shore and started their journey. Patching grief with proverbs two strangers started sailing, hoping to find a new shore somewhere.... Often you open the wardrobe thinking of something and then find something which you have never thought of, but you end up with a smile; and life indeed is beautiful with such little wonders. She is one such precious wonders in his life.

....He usually bakes a cake on all his friend’s birthdays. Last December he wanted to bake a cake for her as well. But he did not. They were not so close and he knew her through the lunatic that time. He was scared what will every one think. May be baking a cake and getting that for her would unnecessarily draw every one’s attention and evoke controversy; that’s what he thought and with the terror of being exposed and the fear of the lunatic altogether rejected the idea. He was scared, too scared and anxious to loose the lunatic at any cost. Later on when she had come home on Christmas, he had baked two cakes instead of one, somewhere in the subterranean of his heart he wanted to compensate. Compensate for not baking a cake for her on her birthday, compensate for everything and nothing that happened between them!

….A lot actually happened between them after that and how they both survived the precarious catch of the dream seller. For him, it was those wine sweet days of attention. The joy of being desired; the naughty fun of being watched and not letting oneself touched…. How he smiles with a smirk when he recollects those days now. He had called her up from the far away land to wish Good Night; when she told him about her new found love, the dream seller. A flurry of quandary flooded the high fortifications of fortitude, while the shapeless words got mute at his throat as they found way through his eyes and rolled down his cheek. The past was revisited and he was shrouded with memories that he should not have had. On the other side of the phone she could hear him panting for air standing on the balcony of the crummy hotel in the suburb; and soon he found himself giving her the biggest truth of his life. The truth, that he had been carefully hiding all his life. Strong as she always had been, hugged him with her words and promised to be there with him. They both did it, trapped the trap of the dream seller!

The guilt and the pain would not be gone, but they survived. They consoled each other saying the trap was a boon in disguise; and realized how more close they have become after the catastrophe. They survived, but the poison is still in their wounds and the wounds are open. The wounds are dormant but not extinct and they have still NOT learnt not to presume the permanence of any relationship!

….Raw and uncovered they both stand under the night sky and the blue moon watches them as they pacify each other every night. Now parked in the crater they talk about their flight across the moon in the past. The Heartless Casanova, the Thoughtless Spineless Lunatic, the Cruel Dream Seller, the Funny Little Hill Boy and the Mysterious Maya often twinkle in their nights. Two brunt neon night skies of the two far away cities…. The distance, the void between them is filled with songs; the notes float around in sepia undertones as they go back to the past again…. ”Dnariye aacho tumi amar gaaner opare!”
DREAMER – tui gaaner kon paarey?
MORTICIAN – ami gaaner majkhane!
DREAMER – shei bhalo, gaaner kono eipaar-opar nei. Shudhu aayinar oparer manush tai thake, aar kew thakena, kew kotha rakhena!
MORTICIAN – abar tui swopno dekhchish meenshey!
DREAMER – bol khelaghor bnadhchi! Swopno shottyi eishob niye naiba bhabli meye….
MORTICIAN – aachcha, tui Hemnolinir doley na Komolar doley?
DREAMER – tui bidhoba Binodinir doley na oi notun boutar doley, proshnota onekta oirokom holo na….
MORTICIAN – je jaar nijer jwalaye jwolchey rey!
DREAMER – jwoloner o onek moja, tui ki janbi rey mukhpuri!

Sometimes when she thought she didn't need to do it anymore, times when she thought she was done with it. She liked having the ability to inflict pain whenever she wanted, and she liked that she could stop it. Not that she really wanted to. She would ask herself if this was happiness, and told herself that if it was, she hated it. Cutting made her feel different than everyone else, but she also knew that other people did it for the same reasons, which made her feel that she was a part of something. Then there were times when the tears from her eyes burned a path down her cheek, and her throat was so tight she couldn't scream no matter how much she tried. Those times she would find relief only by cutting up her skin and bleeding out all the painful screams. The pain of living altogether flowed from one simple cut. She didn't care where she cut, arms, legs, stomach, or wrists. As long as she keeps cutting she can live to tomorrow.

Today while he reads her letter; thinks of writing to her, a gust of dilemma floods the high walls of determination, everything seems muddled to his stupid mind and all reason seems pointless. He feels like sharing with her all that he had left unsaid at the most tempting moment; that fistful of lesser significant nothings! How he suffered, how he cried, when he first read her letter and he thought this is the real punishment. How does one stop thinking of someone one used to love? How does one stop remembering? It is something they both got used to, it happens all the time.... Days passes empty like the days before. He has forgotten who he was, whom he loved and all other obligations and many a times knowingly unknowingly she rubs chillies on his wounds, but he never holds that against her; he knows she is doing that to herself and not to him. She is miserably trying to build a wall of defence to protect the faint heart and trying hard to make him see reason. Though sense hardly makes sense at such situations; he has learnt he could not be simple; he has no business to be simple and live in this world and know nothing about its cruel ways.

...and it rained during the busiest time of the day in the crazy city. DREAMER and his letter, she never thought life comes in small pockets of emotions!
She looks for that stupid boy from “Aarshi-Nagar“ insanely when she cries. Now, that Aarshi is broken...the Nagar is filled with void and the ruthless girl keeps on walking in the debris to find the little remaining pieces of them, together. The stars, the hatred, the pain, the anger - everything makes her a motley of a cold blanket. At night when she unmasks herself, she sits alone with a Marley Joint and wonders where the lost DREAMER is, whom she once hated so much. She has forgotten what love is all about! She doesn't feel the feeling. She looks for Dreamer in every face that she meets, post work when she crosses the street she looks for him perpetually and every time she fails. There's no one to hold her hands while crossing the road. She gets scared even now while crossing those busy routes. She doesn't have him by her side; the thought makes her feel miserable. No, he doesn't make her cry, he makes her feel angry, ANGER - that's the only thing she has. She doesn’t go to the coffee shop - the by lanes and dark corners bring him back to her though she knows he is NOT there anymore.

MAYA calls her and asks her to take care of herself. Though the she knows even MAYA doesn't know what 'taking care' means. The closet, the warmth in the call, the feeling of belonging, the wait - another blanket of fondness that MAYA gives; she takes all of it with deep breath and happy heart though she knows, she's alone - just like the way they are!

She takes the last puff from the joint, wipes her tears and smiles. As the dreamer once said, "Rest everything is fine. Just Fine!"

Her words still hover on his head and he wonders what is it that made a MORTICIAN out of a LOVER. May be Love indeed is too young to know what conscience is....

The past one long year had been a witness to a thousand oscillations…. And it’s the MORTICIAN’s birthday again. Opps! The LOVER’S birth day again! He wishes he could be there with her, with the little girl who would find it difficult to cross the road while coming home after getting drunk on her birthday!

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