JOURNAL: ABOUT THIS SUMMER

As I lay on my bed, the beep of the alarm wakes me up from the sleep that never was. The elusive sleep. Something from within me pushes me to put my thoughts in words. Words. I was just thinking how some words just get to you. Especially, sometimes, some words from your mother tongue will rustle your soul in such myriad ways. The past one year has been a testing time for me. It has tested me on a lot of different aspects. But I have learnt a lot of valuable lessons as well. I wish those lessons never have to be put to use again but I really doubt that. Everybody in this world commits mistakes. Our mistakes remind us of our frail humanity. There are some mistakes that one can rectify while there are other instances when one cannot go back and fix things despite how much one wants to. I am no different To squeeze the last drops of juice out of the "war" metaphor, let me say that I am trapped deep in the enemy territory of singlehood, waiting for a rescue. I can't say for sure that singlehood is entirely a hostile thing but I think I am bored of it. Blogging is supposed to work like an emotional cathartic. At least, I have always felt like that. But I had no idea that blogging will also save me money that I would have otherwise spent on a shrink. Thanks to this blog, I have had the pleasure of my personality dissected inside out by amateur and wannabe Freuds. Don't get me wrong. I appreciate the expenditure of mental energies on me. It is always a good idea to learn about myself from others. You could say that that might be one of the reasons I write a blog and present myself for such analysis. But also remember, what you might think you see in me may partly be your own reflection. A process that psychiatrisits describe as "Projection". Anywho. Thanks for all your comments. I could not help make this observation though. Inherent in most arguments is the admission that turbans are indeed considered by women to be a negative accesory. My row is against that matter and that matter alone. Rest is coincidental. First of all, I must make it clear that I value my privacy a lot. I had never wanted to reveal what I do for a living as it is immaterial.. I have been divorce for one year now. I am back to my domain of singlehood. Feels just like home, but there is a bad taste in my mouth but that is fading away slowly. I have realized that it is all the more difficult for me because I am held a prisoner by my dreams. Dreams of finding someone to love and who will love me back. Someone who will be like a Pulsar radiating love to me and not someone like a Blackhole who will absorb all the love I send her without an atom of affection coming back. Dreams of walking on the curvy path down the valley of years, holding each other's hands. Dreams of blue skies, blue oceans, white beaches, green eyes and ruddy cheeks that become even more red when I kiss her. And above all, dreams of making babies and dreams of her taking care of the babies and cooking food for me and cleaning the house and ironing my clothes. Ok. maybe not the last one. But yeah, dreams of this and dreams of that. All of us dream of different things when we are young. Some of us believe in those dreams and shed the sweat of their brow and the blood of their hearts to chase those dreams. At the same time, I think one can do a lot of service to oneself if one does not allow oneself to be held a prisoner by those dreams. Chasing dreams is all fine and dandy but to make it a matter of life or death is in nobody's interest. When I am at work, I am so preoccupied with things that I hardly have time to feel anything. The real problem starts when I get back home. Wouldn't it be nice if I were to come home, tired and flagged and there were a sweet little angel welcoming me back home with a smile that could send sunshine in the depths of the underworld?. Wouldn't it be nice if she were to put her arms around me and tell me that she was proud of me? And of course, wouldn't it be nice if she had something all ready on the dinning table for us to enjoy a romantic dinner? Fool's paradise, you might say. But that is what keeps me going. I know that my story is kind of stale and boring now. Heck, I am tired of thinking about it myself. But the problem is that there is this vacuum around me that I am sick and tired of. At times, there is this incredble urge that rises up inside of me to hold somebody's hand or to hug somebody. Especially, at times when I think of not so old times when I could actually do that. I am trying to put this emotional fortress around me so that things and thoughts like these don't bother me. I know I will suceed coz there is just no other way around it. During the summer I met this girl and she trick me into believing she wanted me.She gave me a lot. I felt rejected after my wife left me. She was an answer to my prayers. I don't know how true or untrue her affections were but she touched my life in more ways than she could imagine. We talked almost every night before we met. I knew she wasn't ready for a relationship. I felt she was too strong ...had too many wall, was commitment phobic and wouldn't be able to keep most of her promise she made to me. But she kept contacting me...kept pushing....like she really wanted me and eventually I believe it. I decided to met her. Since we talk on the phone for so long...I felt like we had some sort of relationship before hand. We were only together for two weeks in person..i went to her place and she went to mine. I remember our first meeting and when I got home...I couldn't wait to see her again. Each second of this wait feels like the fangs of a monster immersed deeply into my heart and I can feel them sinking deeper and deeper with each tic of the clock. A few weeks ago, I had never dreamt anything like this would ever happen to me. I am a grown-up man (or so they say). I am supposed to exercise sufficient restraint over my emotions so that I could appear to be in control. But somehow, I find that a harder and harder proposition. I just can't stop her images from invading every crevice of my cerebral repository. Her smile, the sight of her hair, her whispers and the feel of her lips in mine. Good God!. Have mercy on thy servant. I know,I know. I have heard of infatuation and passing fantasies. But clearly, my illiterate heart has not heard of these scholarly terms. That poor thing can't tell the difference between what is transient and what is supposed to last longer. Ordinarily, affection and love derive their strength from long term familiarity between people. Over time, people become acquainted with each other's innards ( or so they think) and then one fine day, they fall in love. The initial physical attraction withers away and out emerges from the cocoon, the monarch butterfly people call "love". I am all too familiar with those concepts and I do believe that they must be true. However, my parched mind does not respect those delineations. Maybe it will cool down after a while. Maybe I will become saner and grow out of it and then will have the smoother more pacified color of "love" over my heart instead of the cacophony of colors that it currently has. Maybe so but right now I am loving the chaos.But truly, I have never felt this way about anybody else. I don't know what norms or what protocols of behavior I am supposed to follow. Even if I knew them, I would have turned a blind eye to them. I am sleepless in Long Island and I am loving it. She stayed for weekend at my place.. And then, it was time for her to leave. As a gentleman that I am, I took her to the train station.. I wanted to hold her hand and beg her to stay. I tried to read her mind by looking at her face. But her face did not betray any of her emotions. Nor did those eyes. She started to get out of the car and walk toward the train. I sat at my car watching her walk away. Every step that she took, I prayed that she would stop. I prayed that she would at least turn around and exchange a final look, the look that would tell me some sort of indication that she still felt anything for me. The look, by which I would be able to spend the rest of my life with. But she didn't. She kept walking (some would say, briskly) and kept walking. And then went to the train and out of my sight and I am afraid, out of my life. The passage was brightly lit with pretty lights, the air was still and musty and I stood there wondering how things could change so fast. No answers came to mind. . And when I got home and drag myself in, I noticed something on the floor. I bent down to take a closer look. It seemed familiar. "I'll be damned", I told myself. It was my darn heart. God bless my soul. The poor bugger was badly mangled but it was still beating. The rascal just won't quit. She had very skillfully dropped it on the ground as she was leaving, severing the final ties and sealing the deal. I picked it up and put in the refrigerator where it would lay healing, only for the next angel to come and break it. She told me a few days after spending the weekend with me that she wasn't able to give me what i wanted. An escape hack so she didn't have to feel gulity. She later told me that if she stayed with me ...she would be settling. I thought that was funny because when I compared my life with her...I was the one who would be settling not her. She then spend the rest of the summer with a guy who didn't want her but for one thing. Oh yes..i forget mention..this guy worked in wall street and had a lot of money. But whatever..the memories of those weekend will forever be safe in a corner of my left atrial appendage. Every now and then, my heart will fibrillate and small emboli of those memories will travel from my heart to my brain sending shivers down my mortal body and causing intense pain. But that is my fate. I would cook, I ran and I did some other things. But most importantly, I dug out a grave. A grave for my dreams and some fascinating memories. O boy! I had thought that having been through almost two break-ups before, one from my ex wife and this one would be a little easier on me. But it feels the same. It feels like someone just slapped two electrodes on my scalp, thrust a piece of cloth in my mouth so that I couldn't scream and pushed the lever down making 1000 volts of electricity run through me. Sure, I didn't scream and there was no surface damage but somewhere deep inside my heart, a lot of fragile emotions and feelings melted and died a painful death. It hurts too much. I hope the balm of time starts working quickly. I wish I could take a strong laxative and purge myself of all the crap I had loaded unto myself. Sometimes I think I should call her. But I know that it is a lost cause. I think it is best to do what I have always done. Work and pray. I know I will climb out of the hole. Hopefully, it is sooner rather than later. The epitaph shall read this:"Here in rest the memories of the months of my life. Memories that were God's gift to him for good deeds done in a past life. Times will change and I will grow old. But the thought of these memories will continue to give him a gleam in his eye and a smile on his wrink Years ago when I was a young boy, I had the dubious distinction of accompanying my mom to the food market. I remember how she would do this elaborate routine of choosing the best of the apples and oranges. She would pick the best looking orange up, turn it all around inspecting its contours in 3D. She would smell it and sometimes she would put it back with a frown on her face while at other times she would happily put it in her basket. The whole process intrigued me. Back home, nine times out of ten, she would be right. The apples and oranges she picked up would be really juicy and ripe. But then there would be that one bad apple that escaped her experienced eyes and would end up in the trash bin. Finding a person to love you, is kind of similar to the process of buying fruits and vegetables. Most of the times, you have to decide if the person you want to spend the rest of your life with is a bad apple or good. Unlike fruits, you cannot turn her all around or smell her. That would be weird. But if you are smart, you may ask her her a few soul-searching questions and hope that she would answer them honestly. Even so, there is so much you can do . But like fruits and vegetables, nine times out of ten, you would be right. The person that you end up marrying would not be a nagging obsessive pyscho but really a cute little princess who would stroll around in the garden of your heart. However, there would be that one time when the whole marriage would be one big rotten apple with worms crawling out and gross stuff like that. So, generally the odds are in your favor. The question is: are you happy with those odds because if you are wrong, it is not the damn apple who is going to the trash bin, it is you and your life. To borrow a term from economics, I am a risk-averse individual. Especially when the stakes are as high as my life. On the other hand, the other route is not that rosy either. Because the first few months, people just can't help but pretend to be somebody that they are not. They are at their best behavior, they put on their best clothes and lazy suckers like me clean up their apartment or walk other people's dogs with a broad grin on their face. You know how it is. It is the natural way of things. It is only with time, that the initial euphoria dies and the true you comes in the forefront. And then when you really really know the other person, you can decide whether he or she is the one who you want to share your life, in sickness and health, in poverty and opulence and other sweet stuff like that. To sum up, in this method, you could literally touch, smell, even Xray the goddamn oranges and apples before you decide which ones you wanna take home to mama. You can still go wrong but then you don't have your parents you can put the blame on because the decision was yours and yours alone. Anyways, my ramblings on love and ladies go on. The other day somebody wrote that we should strive to be better humans rather than focusing on disparaging others. I agree with that completely. Gandhi wrote: "You must be the change you want to see in this world." It is true that when you are an accomplished individual, you will invariably get the admiration and affection (of ladies) that you seek. The ladies will flock to a bigger better you. I have heard that story for about three years now. And it is my sad duty to report that it is not always true. Life is not as rigidly governed by the laws of physics as the pendulum in the Science lab. Dating is a tough cookie. Dating does involve a fair degree of emotional investment and when somebody is reckless like me, that investment is actually substantial. No doubt one could recover from it. But I don't know if I have the stomach for this ride. One day you are at the top of the world and the next moment you can taste the sand in your mouth. It would be nice if people could express their feelings upfront. But usually they save all the bile for the last minute and then it is not as much fun. So, I am reconsidering my decisions. Each one of us is a unique aberration of the time-space continuum. I am no exception to this rule. Who I am is a confluence of the multitude of influences of my genes and my experiences. It might be hard to believe but I am not desperate for women. I am just desperate to take the next step in my life. I am also impatient by nature and do not like to wait. In my younger years, I was often told: Son, study hard and make a life for yourself. Other things can wait. Well, I did exactly that. I deprived myself of worldly pleasures so that I could carve out a life for myself. At this point in my life, I need to focus on the other things. But surprise, surprise. The other things don't come easily either. It is a whole goddamn saga in itself. Hence, the so called desperation. The sky was overcast with splashes of grey and black. After the drizzle in the morning, there was the aroma of wet earth in the air. The scent of native earth that fills my nostrils and evokes strong memories of back home. I tried to look outside the window but it was dark outside and all I could see in the window was a reflection of myself. My eyes met the eyes of my reflection and incited a million thoughts in my mind. Introspection inside out. It is amazing how our priorities change with time. There was a time where all I wanted was to complete my education and establish a career. There was a time where all other things did not influence me. There was also a time when I was deeply immersed in spiritual pursuits. Most of my time was occupied by reflection and comprehension of the world around us. Trying to make sense of who I was. God, family, friends and career have been my priorities throughout. But now, more and more of my time is being spent in something I never thought would be so hard. Some of my friend suggest that perhaps it is best for me to quit my quest and let God,take control of my affairs. Well, as far as I am concerned, He was in charge every second of the way. I am not going to lie that tiny molecules of bitterness have started to deposit themselves over my psyche. It is not that I am dying to get married or something. It is just that this process has been so inefficient and so tedious that it has started to get boring and prosaic. I wish marriage was like an exam. One could study for it, work hard and had a good chance of doing well. Unfortunately, this is so random, so arbitrary and has a million different variables that are almost impossible to predict. I have often thought about who I would like as my wife. I have been questioned about this several times as well. All the folks who are helping me in my quest have all asked me about this. But to tell you the truth, I am not sure I can give a precise description of the woman that I think will rock my world. After reading Percy Shelley,Keats et al, my vision of my woman is all a mist. As a person, I conceptualize better in abstract terms. I think about God in abstract ways. A lot of times, we think about our partners based on their resumes. People want to marry a doctor or an engineer or whatever. There is logic behind it and I understand it. Maybe I would prefer somebody from my own field as well. If I think in conventional terms, I would think I would be attracted to someone intelligent, professionally qualified and someone who has ambition and some dreams to crystallize. Somebody told me that we seek our own image in our partners. I concur with that thought. I am an intense person myself and I think I like people with passion. It is when I think about the personal attributes of my princess that it becomes vague. I like it when I smell love on sniffing the air after entering my home. I like it when there is a gentle breeze of romance flowing through the relationship. Some people believe that couples shouldn't have to express their love all the time. I don't share their belief. I like communication and giving free rein to once's feelings. I don't like it when people have to suppress their emotions because they are afraid of what others will think about it. I am not saying that one should roam naked in one's house but one should be able to vent out one's feelings on a regular basis. I love it when people do small things to make the other person feel special. At the same time, a random kiss on the go, breakfast in bed blah blah should be allowed. Some cynics have told me that after two years into a marriage, I will be too jaded to provide or expect such tokens of love. That is a distinct possibility and something that sends shivers down my spine. The last thing I would want is a lifeless killjoy marriage where people are together for the sake of maintaing the semblance of marriage that once was. Maybe I will grow old and my thoughts will change but right now, the thought scares me. Sometimes I think that part of the reason it has been tough is because I don't know who I want. At least that is what my parents tell me. Every two weeks, they call me to tell me that they think they have found the "one". And then something or the other just doesn't gel and it all falls apart. My friends accuse me of being too picky. I don't think I am. I just want to be sure that I am going to make the right decision. I don't want to say to myself two months into a marriage:" A what were you thinking?' I admit I have only vague ideas of who I want to spend the rest of my life with. Maybe it doesn't have to be a hard thing. Maybe I can just marry the next person that I meet (provided she agrees). If I were to use my brains, The problem is that it is my heart and not my brain in the driver's seat. Sometimes I think I am behaving like a pubescent teen If only I could see her face in my dreams. I arise from dreams of thee In the first sweet sleep of night, When the winds are breathing low, And the stars are shining bright; I arise from dreams of thee, And a spirit in my feet Hath led me - who knows how? To thy chamber-window, sweet! The Sun will rise in the east again, my alarm clock will pour molten lead into my ears again and I will run off to work again trying to be on time but will probably be late again. I will meet people. I will smile with them. I will hear their stories of how they will be going out with their significant others blah blah blah. I will go out with my single dude friends as well and we will all bitch and moan and laugh it all away. We will find excuses and curse the fairer half of humanity in a feeble attempt to condone our own frailties. And then we will pretend to forget everything over a cup of coffee. Silently inside, a crack will persist in my heart. I will try to put a band-aid on it but I am afraid it will develop into a pus draining sore. Nasty but true and painful. I know I seem to whine a lot. People think I am trying to put the blame on others ...subconsciously that might be true. Consciously, however I am just narrating what I have experienced. It would be so nice if I were to fall in love with somebody and she were to reciprocate that and we were to get married. I have tried to make that happen but call it luck or whatever but that has not happened. It is not easy to meet single women You find out, sometimes to your dismay, how many preconceptions and prequalifications one has to satisfy before one becomes "eligible". It was my day off today. I languished in bed till late morning. With great effort, I dragged myself out of my bed and made myself some coffee. As I stood in the kitchen sipping my cup of lukewarm coffee and listening to the wind rustle my wind-chimes, it hit me. Shit, I told myself. Last year I had promised myself that this year would be my lmarried It would be the last year when I would utter profanities on seeing a couple walk hand in hand oblivious to the world around them. Of course, the profanities being directed at myself rather than at the couple. That goes without saying. I live in a country where overt expression of affection is the rule rather than exception. it is kind of hard to be surrounded by this sea of love, if all you have is yourself and an imaginative mind. If only I were dumb enough not to be affected by things around me. Anyways, sometimes I think Cupid has been unfair to me. I have been the object of his target practice for too long. I wish he were kind enough to turn his bow towards a femme fatale ,shoot an arrow with my name written on it and make me happy. It is funny how sometimes there is just one unique word which alone can capture your emotions. For example, what I feel these days, words like loneliness, solitude etc fail to express it fully. I am lucky to have a rather wide circle of friends. I work almost 60 hrs a week and there is a lot of interactions with colleagues and people in general. My life is hectic and there is litlle time to feel anything. And then I also like to go out. There are parties, get togthers, conferences and what not. People and more people. I talk to people, I dance with people and I listen or sometimes pretend to listen. There are female friends too who are mostly married, or going steady or too good for me. It is all fun. I believe it was Francis Bacon who wrote:"The bigger the crowd, the lonelier you are". Only now I realized how right he was. I then get back home and then it hits me. There she is ,the bitch. i.(Forgive my French, but again Profanity alone can do full justice to my emotions). I move around and she follows me.I try to study but as I am flipping through the pages of my books, I hear her giggle. She taunts me with images of the mystery girl. Fleeting images of a pearly ankle, of a killer smile and of a nervous kiss. She drives me crazy and then I flip open my laptop and start writing. Later, as I try to sleep and battle against insomnia, right then ,in the twilight zone before sleep, my princess comes back again and whispers sweet nothings in my ear. I struggle to see her but all efforts are futile. I give up and bitch pushes me into La-La land. The other time I see her is when I am in the kitchen. I can't and choose not to cook. As I am ransacking the refrigerator trying to put togther a joke of a meal, I see her standing near the kitchen counter munching a succulent piece of chicken tikka masala. I curse her and as I am trying to crush the cold hard piece of bread, the third eye of my mind wanders off and I see my princess. There she is, standing in the kitchen. Cooking for me. I come from behind and embrace her. I try to kiss her but she stuffs a piece of food in my mouth. Not bad, I say and then she vanishes away. BTW, I am not the kind of man who thinks that women's place is the kitchen. It is just my hungry stomach playing tricks on my nutty mind. I have considered the possibility that I might be going crazy. I have even considered self medicating myself with Prozac. But my friends tell me I am not crazy. They tell me I am not a pervert either. . I hope my ghost bitch leaves me soon and my princess walks into my life. The object of my mission is perhaps getting lost, which is, if I may remind you, my wife. You guys can fight out among yourself but please be cognizant of the fact that I am still sleeping with my mistress (aka loneliness) and I am sick of her. I need to move on. Like the surface of the moon, my heart also has a lot of craters.It seems that the current part of my journey is through a desert. A big dry sea of sand in which I am trudging, carrying the corpse of my dreams. Every now and then, I get taunted with sights of a distant oasis with fresh water and good food but so far it has always turned out to be a dastardly mirage. I have always considered myself a very spiritual person but I am not an orthodox person. I attempt to understand and respect mine as well as other religions and love God. I do not think God wanted me to be celebate all my life. If I choose not to hide behind a facade of hypocrisy, that does not make me a sinner or anyless religious than the next guy. I am not a promiscous individual. I do not believe in sleeping around or using women to my advantage. And trust me, that requires a lot of discipline to curb the temptations. My parents are impatient for their daughter-in-law and I am only trying to find them one. If in the process I also try to have a clean, good time, I do not think I deserve to go to hell. It amazes me that writing a blog or calling a spade a spade( or a fox a fox) would lead people to believe that I am bereft of any spiritual depth. Gimme that much credit, please.