She came today after i had finished sweeping and moping - i didn't think she would come because it was getting late. i thought she must have taken sick like she is wont to. One look and i knew something was wrong. She said her grandson is missing and that she had stayed up all night crying and they still don't know where he is. At the best of times, she is a confused female, scared of everything.
i told her crying was not going to do any good - i am so against tears these days - and gave her some money and told her to go and file a missing person report at the police station. She asked me whether the police would charge money - i told her they should not but i am not sure. She asked me to pray for her grandson to return - i, the non-believer, the cynic - and i told her everything would be OK as if i know what is going to happen tomorrow. She cried some more, i patted her gingerly on the shoulder and told her to go to her daughter.
And i thought how terrible it must be to have a loved one missing - the uncertainty of it all, every waking moment wondering where he is, whether he is OK.
And Ema said she thought people only go missing in Manipur. If it had been Imphal, i would have been doubtful of the outcome - here, i have some hope for her grandson. i only hope he is OK and that he would come home. To his family.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
this and that
Finally went to submit the visa application yesterday. Unlike the US visa, i did not have to put up with silly questions, just waited while a giggly female looked over the documents, took 200 bucks to keep me updated by SMS on the status and sent me off to get my biometrics done. Over in about 45 minutes.
Of course, finding the place was a bit tricky what with my non-existent geographical knowledge. i bravely tried to find the place in google maps, got confused even more if that was possible. But what is Kolkata without its kindhearted souls ever willing to guide lost damsels to obscure destinations?
Now have to wait till i get the visa stamped - if they don't reject it, that is. Got my ex-company to give me an offer to get my own visa so i would have to depend on his visa. They quoted a salary that was much higher than what i expected that for a moment i was flustered. Ummm....Thought i would not trust my ears and asked them to mail me the break-up of the components just to check i have heard them right. That was smart of me, eh? Like they keep telling you, get everything in writing.
There are many loose ends i need to tie up before i leave but as usual what do i do - nothing. And i will start rushing around at the last moment and get nothing done. i am so damn unreliable.
At times i don't want to leave but then i think of the good it would do for everyone -well, honey, money does matter. If it were not for the pounds, i will still be here. The things we do for money. The pain we buy for it. And in the end, it would not have been worth it. But still, i succumb....
Of course, finding the place was a bit tricky what with my non-existent geographical knowledge. i bravely tried to find the place in google maps, got confused even more if that was possible. But what is Kolkata without its kindhearted souls ever willing to guide lost damsels to obscure destinations?
Now have to wait till i get the visa stamped - if they don't reject it, that is. Got my ex-company to give me an offer to get my own visa so i would have to depend on his visa. They quoted a salary that was much higher than what i expected that for a moment i was flustered. Ummm....Thought i would not trust my ears and asked them to mail me the break-up of the components just to check i have heard them right. That was smart of me, eh? Like they keep telling you, get everything in writing.
There are many loose ends i need to tie up before i leave but as usual what do i do - nothing. And i will start rushing around at the last moment and get nothing done. i am so damn unreliable.
At times i don't want to leave but then i think of the good it would do for everyone -well, honey, money does matter. If it were not for the pounds, i will still be here. The things we do for money. The pain we buy for it. And in the end, it would not have been worth it. But still, i succumb....
Thursday, March 24, 2011
on why i don't drink...anything stronger than coffee that is...
.not because of religion as i am affiliated to none
..not because of society as i have broken almost all rules
...not because i am a good girl
....not because of health reasons
Maybe because i am too drunk on my own self to want to be intoxicated with anything else. Maybe because i hate to lose control. Maybe because i might end up skinny diving from the balcony into the cold river below..Or maybe just because i don't want to drink. Simple.
All of the above, however, is negated by my yet to be fulfilled desire to get stoned on LSD. Just once. Since the likelihood of my getting hold of LSD is as probable as say me getting the businesswoman of the year award, sigh, i will forever remain uncorrupted by spirits or drugs of the illicit kind. Such a pity. Mine was/is a nature that would have definitely lent itself well to being corrupted to the core. Very well, i have my lebu cha and orange juice to drown my sorrow in. If i were sorrow, i would like to drown in sweet, tangy citrus juice rather than piss-smelling wine. Chee, what stuff do i come up with? You go drink your glass of wine - red, white or whatever colour is in vogue while i go sleep before i start raining more drunk-sounding words.
..not because of society as i have broken almost all rules
...not because i am a good girl
....not because of health reasons
Maybe because i am too drunk on my own self to want to be intoxicated with anything else. Maybe because i hate to lose control. Maybe because i might end up skinny diving from the balcony into the cold river below..Or maybe just because i don't want to drink. Simple.
All of the above, however, is negated by my yet to be fulfilled desire to get stoned on LSD. Just once. Since the likelihood of my getting hold of LSD is as probable as say me getting the businesswoman of the year award, sigh, i will forever remain uncorrupted by spirits or drugs of the illicit kind. Such a pity. Mine was/is a nature that would have definitely lent itself well to being corrupted to the core. Very well, i have my lebu cha and orange juice to drown my sorrow in. If i were sorrow, i would like to drown in sweet, tangy citrus juice rather than piss-smelling wine. Chee, what stuff do i come up with? You go drink your glass of wine - red, white or whatever colour is in vogue while i go sleep before i start raining more drunk-sounding words.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
The first step...
....Come April, i am going to take a hiatus from my job for two months. Just want and need a break. And maybe to explore the candle business idea a wee bit. i know my candles will sell - my over-confidence sometimes grates but bear with me.
Of course, it will pinch me giving up such a well paying job where i do not have to exercise my grey cells that much or slog. But money is not everything or so i tell myself. And if i could make this a success, i would be doing something i absolutely love and getting paid for it. What more could i ask for? well, more books?
As a first step, what do i do but get my pranner bondhu SM to present me two books on candle-making. He owes me my birthday gift from last year; till now i have not been able to think of anything i want - but when this idea germinated, i thought i would call in belated gifts! i know i am so shameless but who wants to be bashful when you can be shameless? The kind soul he is, he has bought those books. i can't wait to get them.
Now i need moulds and wax and dyes and scents and wicks and sealant and what-nots. i am actually getting a bit excited about this. OK, a lot excited.
You know, when i go shopping and i see candles selling i always think 'hell, i could make much better candles'. Maybe now, it is time to see how well i fare. Even if i fail, well, at least i would have tried to live one dream.
To the gypsy who wanted to be a chandler...may her candles sell!
Of course, it will pinch me giving up such a well paying job where i do not have to exercise my grey cells that much or slog. But money is not everything or so i tell myself. And if i could make this a success, i would be doing something i absolutely love and getting paid for it. What more could i ask for? well, more books?
As a first step, what do i do but get my pranner bondhu SM to present me two books on candle-making. He owes me my birthday gift from last year; till now i have not been able to think of anything i want - but when this idea germinated, i thought i would call in belated gifts! i know i am so shameless but who wants to be bashful when you can be shameless? The kind soul he is, he has bought those books. i can't wait to get them.
Now i need moulds and wax and dyes and scents and wicks and sealant and what-nots. i am actually getting a bit excited about this. OK, a lot excited.
You know, when i go shopping and i see candles selling i always think 'hell, i could make much better candles'. Maybe now, it is time to see how well i fare. Even if i fail, well, at least i would have tried to live one dream.
To the gypsy who wanted to be a chandler...may her candles sell!
a house for the gypsy...
When i first came to Calcutta, i found it stiffling. It was not just the heat and humidity but the apartments. Having always stayed in a big house with a huge courtyard and garden, i found the lack of space suffocating. That and the fact that all the doors were always closed! i can remember only one or two incidents when our house at Imphal was padlocked - otherwise the doors were open till we went off to sleep.
Of course, i cannot afford a house here - i would have to sell myself and all my sisters and cousins too. A flat, yes. A house complete with garden, no. Maybe if we buy a plot and construct our own house, maybe.
In the land of the gloomy weather, the two apartments that we have stayed in have been livable because of the french windows which give a sense of space. The one that we rent right now overlooks a river and it is refreshing view. Sometimes if i am lucky i can even see the swans with their cygnets.
i have had enough of living in apartments. i want to move to a house. But most of them seem to have tiny rooms and though the thought of a garden is tempting, i would hate to live in rooms where you would bump the wall if you so move to scratch your bums.
He hates the fact that i want everything - a house with big rooms AND garden AND en-suite AND within our meagre budget. ummm...
Maybe what i need is a caravan parked under the skies. Or maybe a reality pill. Or maybe just a house....
Of course, i cannot afford a house here - i would have to sell myself and all my sisters and cousins too. A flat, yes. A house complete with garden, no. Maybe if we buy a plot and construct our own house, maybe.
In the land of the gloomy weather, the two apartments that we have stayed in have been livable because of the french windows which give a sense of space. The one that we rent right now overlooks a river and it is refreshing view. Sometimes if i am lucky i can even see the swans with their cygnets.
i have had enough of living in apartments. i want to move to a house. But most of them seem to have tiny rooms and though the thought of a garden is tempting, i would hate to live in rooms where you would bump the wall if you so move to scratch your bums.
He hates the fact that i want everything - a house with big rooms AND garden AND en-suite AND within our meagre budget. ummm...
Maybe what i need is a caravan parked under the skies. Or maybe a reality pill. Or maybe just a house....
Sunday, March 20, 2011
on a sunday evening, thus my thoughts flow....
Drop by drop, life bleeds. i gather the drops in broken fragments of dreams where they breed the flies of discontent which feed on wounds i inflict on myself. Oozing pus of more discontent.
Stitch by stitch, life unravels. i pick up the threads and try to mend the holes of relations - of heart and blood.
One by one, death snuffs out loved ones. First the brother. Then the father. And you pray that you would never have to see another loved one lying on a bed, unaware of the passing of day or coming of night.
Post by post, i blog. Inane thoughts and laments of a wounded soul.
Stitch by stitch, life unravels. i pick up the threads and try to mend the holes of relations - of heart and blood.
One by one, death snuffs out loved ones. First the brother. Then the father. And you pray that you would never have to see another loved one lying on a bed, unaware of the passing of day or coming of night.
Post by post, i blog. Inane thoughts and laments of a wounded soul.
Friday, March 18, 2011
Envy....
For someone so smart, you would think i would not envy anyone. But these days, i seem to envy everyone...i hear about this woman from our locality who left her abusive husband and i envy her guts..i see someone wearing something that does not suit her and i envy her confidence...i see people volunteering in disaster zones and i envy their courage..i see people starting their own business from scratch and i envy their pluck...i watch ants scurrying and i envy their thoughtless existence....i look at birds flying and i envy their freedom....
There is something beginning to go wrong with me. It is this seed of discontent that has sprouted. Maybe it is the realisation that life is too short, too unpredictable. And i seem caught in this web of ennui from which i cannot escape. And so i sink deeper, letting envy bite its fangs into flesh already weakened by the ravages of the demons and the dark thoughts that i unwillingly give shelter to in some corner of my mind. i envy everyone....their unthinking, unquestioning enjoyment of life..the way they find happiness in solitaire and Prada bags and designer clothes and shoes...
And i am a snob who would not deign to find pleasures in material things, who would shift through thoughtless thoughts and try to find meanings in things that have no meanings, who will dissect emotions till all that is left behind is tatters of relations gone sour because you poked too deep, who thinks herself a queen when all she is is just a nameless slut who peddles her mind to people who can pay her in pounds while she blogs and eats jalebis, in that order...
Do you think too - about life? Do you wonder too what this is all about - these faceless days and nights and us sliding from one to the next? Do you fret whether this slogging for money and name and fame or whatever it is that we slog for is worth it in the end? Do you realise too the futility of our existence? Do you lay awake too, alone with the moon for company, begging for the answers to life's questions? Do you read your old diaries and think of the past like it happened to someone else?
Or do you just live? Without questions? Without seeking answers? see, i envy you....
There is something beginning to go wrong with me. It is this seed of discontent that has sprouted. Maybe it is the realisation that life is too short, too unpredictable. And i seem caught in this web of ennui from which i cannot escape. And so i sink deeper, letting envy bite its fangs into flesh already weakened by the ravages of the demons and the dark thoughts that i unwillingly give shelter to in some corner of my mind. i envy everyone....their unthinking, unquestioning enjoyment of life..the way they find happiness in solitaire and Prada bags and designer clothes and shoes...
And i am a snob who would not deign to find pleasures in material things, who would shift through thoughtless thoughts and try to find meanings in things that have no meanings, who will dissect emotions till all that is left behind is tatters of relations gone sour because you poked too deep, who thinks herself a queen when all she is is just a nameless slut who peddles her mind to people who can pay her in pounds while she blogs and eats jalebis, in that order...
Do you think too - about life? Do you wonder too what this is all about - these faceless days and nights and us sliding from one to the next? Do you fret whether this slogging for money and name and fame or whatever it is that we slog for is worth it in the end? Do you realise too the futility of our existence? Do you lay awake too, alone with the moon for company, begging for the answers to life's questions? Do you read your old diaries and think of the past like it happened to someone else?
Or do you just live? Without questions? Without seeking answers? see, i envy you....
Thursday, March 17, 2011
love and other such inane stuffs
Sometimes, I think ..yes, please don't smirk, I can think. I think love is so over-rated. And sometimes i think I don't know what love really means. Is it the passion driven, lust stained, fight-infested thing I share with him? Am i capable of caring for anyone other than myself? Sometimes I think I lay too great an emphasis on my desires, my feelings that I come across as heartless and at times, I think what is life if it has not to do with me. I go void of all emotions at times - when I think 'to hell with everything, even me'...these days they prey on me more - my demons. And even sleep, my ally, seems to desert me. I hate the feeling of laying awake trying to lull my senses to sleep, of trying not to think of things that should not be thought of.
I could do with some LSD tablets. That or a whack on my head.
I thought I would take up candlemaking again after a hiatus of nearly 4 years. I wish I could start a small candle shop somewhere quiet, at the corner of a cobbled street, with bells on the door that will tinkle when someone walks in, I would serve tea to them and we would gossip about the weather...I will make candles in all colours of the rainbow and smelling of green apple and jasmine and rainforest and the rain..I will have quaint rugs on the floor, wispy curtains shielding the windows. I will paint the walls red and black ...I will have pictures on the wall- the one painting I fell in love with of a rain soaked street of Calcutta, the painting I never bought but I will find it one day..on rainy days, I will sit by the window with a book and watch raindrops play sliding games on the window panes..I will sip hot tea and though the tills would be almost empty and i would have to count my changes and think twice before I buy myself a book, I think i will be happy.
I could do with some LSD tablets. That or a whack on my head.
I thought I would take up candlemaking again after a hiatus of nearly 4 years. I wish I could start a small candle shop somewhere quiet, at the corner of a cobbled street, with bells on the door that will tinkle when someone walks in, I would serve tea to them and we would gossip about the weather...I will make candles in all colours of the rainbow and smelling of green apple and jasmine and rainforest and the rain..I will have quaint rugs on the floor, wispy curtains shielding the windows. I will paint the walls red and black ...I will have pictures on the wall- the one painting I fell in love with of a rain soaked street of Calcutta, the painting I never bought but I will find it one day..on rainy days, I will sit by the window with a book and watch raindrops play sliding games on the window panes..I will sip hot tea and though the tills would be almost empty and i would have to count my changes and think twice before I buy myself a book, I think i will be happy.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Imphal, nungshibi Imphal
Traffic lights and traffic jam - red, green and yellow lights; still functional and traffic jam on a road I have never seen crowded...this is what welcomed me to Imphal this time ...and the cold...and the darkness once the sun sets.At first I had decided I would not linger, that I would go back once the ceremonies were over. But i stayed back for another 10 days or so.
Yes, the power situation makes me want to holler- load shedding every other day or rather hour. And even on the day the much awaited electricity is supposed to make her rare visits, she ditches you. My mother and sister says almost defensively, phase sudabane, meidi lak-esidi...(apparently the voltage is so low that all it can light up is maybe a zero wattage bulb). And for the first time in my life I see water being supplied from the reservoir - miracles would never cease - so no more lugging heavy pump to the river to get our much needed h2o..yes, I am not talking about some far flung village in Manipur but right in the heart of Imphal...and nobody complains...they buy inverters, generators, even buy water. People seem to accept this as a way of life. I want to shake them and tell them they should not accept everything so quietly, that they should protest like only we manipuris can protest - JACs and sit-in-protests, rallies and hunger strikes where people on full stomachs gossip...
But, when I look up at the blue sky, I think I have not seen a bluer one...at night when I look up and see the sky studded with stars, I think I have never seen as many stars as I see here..in the lazy afternoons, when I hear the silence, it pierces my heart with its loudness. And you want to cry and ask whoever is responsible for the mess my motherland is in - why have you spoiled her so we can no longer dream of coming back for good, can never think of bringing our children here to grow up like we did...
From the window of the plane, I bid my adieu not knowing when I will be back...
Yes, the power situation makes me want to holler- load shedding every other day or rather hour. And even on the day the much awaited electricity is supposed to make her rare visits, she ditches you. My mother and sister says almost defensively, phase sudabane, meidi lak-esidi...(apparently the voltage is so low that all it can light up is maybe a zero wattage bulb). And for the first time in my life I see water being supplied from the reservoir - miracles would never cease - so no more lugging heavy pump to the river to get our much needed h2o..yes, I am not talking about some far flung village in Manipur but right in the heart of Imphal...and nobody complains...they buy inverters, generators, even buy water. People seem to accept this as a way of life. I want to shake them and tell them they should not accept everything so quietly, that they should protest like only we manipuris can protest - JACs and sit-in-protests, rallies and hunger strikes where people on full stomachs gossip...
But, when I look up at the blue sky, I think I have not seen a bluer one...at night when I look up and see the sky studded with stars, I think I have never seen as many stars as I see here..in the lazy afternoons, when I hear the silence, it pierces my heart with its loudness. And you want to cry and ask whoever is responsible for the mess my motherland is in - why have you spoiled her so we can no longer dream of coming back for good, can never think of bringing our children here to grow up like we did...
From the window of the plane, I bid my adieu not knowing when I will be back...
Sunday, March 06, 2011
there she blows...
Life limps back to normalcy - almost. i try not to think about him, i console myself that he is in a better place...It has not been even a month...i think we tend to forget because it is so much easier than to remember....what wisdom from so unwise a soul???
i did not get the job i coveted. Just like the fox and the sour grapes, i begin to think maybe it was for the better, i don't know whether i want to shift base this soon...maybe someday, Singapore, you will have to welcome me..For now, i will have to be contend with the fickle english weather...but before that, i get to spend some more days in my favourite city - Calcutta. It is my second home - crowded, dirty, polluted but still lovable - maybe it reminds me of myself - so many warts but still loved by those i want to be loved by...
i get tired of the many times i have been told i speak such good Bengali. My sister actually snarls when she hears it - i think she may be jealous! i used to get flattered and if i were honest, i still do get flattered but sometimes it grates. Yes, i am ungracious too.
i honestly want to give up my job. i am so done with analysing and whatever else i am supposed to do. Yes, it boosts my ego that i am missed when i am not around but i want to break free. If only i had enough sense to have married an old millionaire...Money, i work only for money. i am a mental prostitute. i think life is too short to be working for money but money makes the world go around and so, i hawk my brains for a living...since the mind is considered more precious and sacred than the body, isn't selling your body less morally wrong than selling your mind? Yes, i am going mad.
i actually ate 5 jalebis yesterday and i got a stomach ache for the trouble. i am a glutton and i weigh only 45 kgs now....what is the connection??
i have been reading them silly romance novels and shedding tears. i am ashamed. No, i am not. i love my cheap thrills and Mills&Boon i thrive on these days. i do not want to read any thought provoking novels just now...i just want to gobble up stupid stories of incredibly sexy macho man and impossibly beautiful damsel falling in lust and love and doing all such things that they are supposed to do to make stars explode and waves crash. ummm, maybe i am with the wrong man because i have never experienced such galactic and oceanic impact.....food for thought...definitely.
i coloured my hair again - mahogany or something...i will do cherry black next....i want my hair to fall off and become bald....anything for a change...would i look cute? or maybe horrible...colouring my hair is the only adventurous thing i can do with my looks. i want a tattoo but i don't have the guts...i could go for a gothic look but since i hate using make-up, it would be incomplete. How would he react if i went to the airport to receive him wearing a mini-skirt and full blown make-up? And maybe stilettos? Would he disown me? But he does not own me to disown me....What am i writing? i think i should think before i write...But would you get to read such inanely sweet words if i censored my thoughts? Oh god, please silence this woman...
i did not get the job i coveted. Just like the fox and the sour grapes, i begin to think maybe it was for the better, i don't know whether i want to shift base this soon...maybe someday, Singapore, you will have to welcome me..For now, i will have to be contend with the fickle english weather...but before that, i get to spend some more days in my favourite city - Calcutta. It is my second home - crowded, dirty, polluted but still lovable - maybe it reminds me of myself - so many warts but still loved by those i want to be loved by...
i get tired of the many times i have been told i speak such good Bengali. My sister actually snarls when she hears it - i think she may be jealous! i used to get flattered and if i were honest, i still do get flattered but sometimes it grates. Yes, i am ungracious too.
i honestly want to give up my job. i am so done with analysing and whatever else i am supposed to do. Yes, it boosts my ego that i am missed when i am not around but i want to break free. If only i had enough sense to have married an old millionaire...Money, i work only for money. i am a mental prostitute. i think life is too short to be working for money but money makes the world go around and so, i hawk my brains for a living...since the mind is considered more precious and sacred than the body, isn't selling your body less morally wrong than selling your mind? Yes, i am going mad.
i actually ate 5 jalebis yesterday and i got a stomach ache for the trouble. i am a glutton and i weigh only 45 kgs now....what is the connection??
i have been reading them silly romance novels and shedding tears. i am ashamed. No, i am not. i love my cheap thrills and Mills&Boon i thrive on these days. i do not want to read any thought provoking novels just now...i just want to gobble up stupid stories of incredibly sexy macho man and impossibly beautiful damsel falling in lust and love and doing all such things that they are supposed to do to make stars explode and waves crash. ummm, maybe i am with the wrong man because i have never experienced such galactic and oceanic impact.....food for thought...definitely.
i coloured my hair again - mahogany or something...i will do cherry black next....i want my hair to fall off and become bald....anything for a change...would i look cute? or maybe horrible...colouring my hair is the only adventurous thing i can do with my looks. i want a tattoo but i don't have the guts...i could go for a gothic look but since i hate using make-up, it would be incomplete. How would he react if i went to the airport to receive him wearing a mini-skirt and full blown make-up? And maybe stilettos? Would he disown me? But he does not own me to disown me....What am i writing? i think i should think before i write...But would you get to read such inanely sweet words if i censored my thoughts? Oh god, please silence this woman...
Wednesday, March 02, 2011
Back
I am back from Imphal after all the ceremonies. How fickle is the human mind ... although it still hurts, life continues even when such an important part of my life is gone ...you begin to realize how dispensable you are...Life will continue even when you are gone.
Maybe because I so wanted my father to have some relief from all his pain, his end was something I had wished for- does it sound so cruel?But when you see someone you love tossing and turning ,
in so much pain, stripped of his dignity to perform the daily rites we perform so thoughtlessly and easily you begin to wonder whether it is not cruel to wish him to stay on just so you do not want to lose your father. It was so tough to see the man always so enjoying life unable to even eat and wasting away slowly before your eyes. You begin to wish for his miseries to end, for him to sleep peacefully, to be in a better place.
At least, I got to hold his hands and tell him I love him, that he need not worry about my other
and my sisters and that I would always take care of them till I die..,
I am returning back to normal life but when I see his smiling face in the photos, a pain gnaws at my heart...my father, a man who stood by his principles even when he was alone on one side ith the world on another side, a man who taught me by exampe to have the guts to stick to what you feel is right...he did not live in vain.....
Baba, I miss you..I miss how you always provoked me just because you found it so endearing when i get angry and start grumbling, I miss how you always pampered me, how you used to be so proud of me and showed me off to your friends - how I hated it then but now, I wish you would call out my name..how you always find something for me to buy for you at the last moment....your childlike demands...
Oh baba, I love you....
Maybe because I so wanted my father to have some relief from all his pain, his end was something I had wished for- does it sound so cruel?But when you see someone you love tossing and turning ,
in so much pain, stripped of his dignity to perform the daily rites we perform so thoughtlessly and easily you begin to wonder whether it is not cruel to wish him to stay on just so you do not want to lose your father. It was so tough to see the man always so enjoying life unable to even eat and wasting away slowly before your eyes. You begin to wish for his miseries to end, for him to sleep peacefully, to be in a better place.
At least, I got to hold his hands and tell him I love him, that he need not worry about my other
and my sisters and that I would always take care of them till I die..,
I am returning back to normal life but when I see his smiling face in the photos, a pain gnaws at my heart...my father, a man who stood by his principles even when he was alone on one side ith the world on another side, a man who taught me by exampe to have the guts to stick to what you feel is right...he did not live in vain.....
Baba, I miss you..I miss how you always provoked me just because you found it so endearing when i get angry and start grumbling, I miss how you always pampered me, how you used to be so proud of me and showed me off to your friends - how I hated it then but now, I wish you would call out my name..how you always find something for me to buy for you at the last moment....your childlike demands...
Oh baba, I love you....
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