Break ke Baad

“Hey.”

“Yea?”

“It’s me.”

“Hey.. What’s up?”

“I just called to say Goodbye.”

“Umm.. Good.. bye?”

“Yeah. Have a nice life.”

Click.

I wanted it to be short. I wanted it to be colourless.

Like love. Short. colourless. non existent. Break up call is something where you are supposed to be breaking up, alas.

I was burning inside. Never did I feel a stronger need to know what must’ve happened to her with this (call).

Days passed. Time went on. I spent days working and nights singing and shouting along to phil colin’s “I don’t care Anymore”.

When you are in relation with someone for a good time, everything seems to remind you of that ‘Someone’. Indeed time would heal the wound, but every wound before healing is bound to hurt more. Burn more.

And probably leave a mark.

Love is exactly like wound. Because it feels good to scratch around it. Scratch out good ol’ times.

After some more time, comes the time to stop whining about why did this happen. The Reason. Cause and effects. That time brings with it indifference, a sense of betrayal and remnants of untrust. Comes the time to wish the reality wasn’t this hard to mug. Comes the time to wish reality would be predictable. Comes the time for epic realization, that every relation is bound to fade, every affection bound to evaporate. What matters is time when the tides are gonna hit you.

I have come to believe that my sorrows are the only thing that are never going to leave me.

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Yin and Yang of telephone manners

Yo Fellas.. Back again with a  thumping thought!

It’s kinda weird the way certain people deal with other people. It seems there is a viscosity quotient, that stumbles and grows when they are together, but topples when they lose visual contacts. These people suffer from a disease not so usual, which is called “If I don’t see you, I won’t call you”. 😀 Not that it matters like life and death, but still. The symptoms?
Here goes :

they talk like “I cant remember calling somebody! What should I talk? I’ve got nothing to say!”

Not really a symptom eh? What did you think “They” are? Well, I am one of those “They”! And I ain’t suffering from a disease I tell ya!

But the things slightly really change. e.g. the way we (have to) interact with Male and Female friends over telephones. Ok, I admit, there is a HUGE difference the way we interact with the two categories. Girls are always more cynic. And mental. And superficial. Period. 😛

This was one of the d-days when I got two calls from my college friends, and they were really angry with me for not calling them regularly, like once in 6 days. (WTF?) Here we go!

(Male one)
Friend : Hi, man!
Me : Hey Buddy! How are you?
Friend : You go to hell!! You #$%#$%^$%^&%^%M and you cheap rascal, you couldn’t even call me all these days!
Me : Take it easy fella.. You haven’t died or gone mad or something.. What should I talk? Everything’s fine here!
Friend : you are one absolute bastard piece of … @#$@# ..! Hey, BTW, you know, I talked to Mukta yesterday!! 😀

And it all goes well after that. It’s like very DIRECT for us. For boys (humans).

But, for Girls. As in (friends, cousins, sisters)
(Female one\ non-human one)

Fiend : (Sorry, Friend 😉 ) Hi.. (A Big Sigh)
Me : Hiiii (A bigger sigh)
Friend : Where have you been these days.. (Another sigh)
Me : Nothing.. Here only.. Was just busy somewhat.

(Now you are called nothing but an idiot if you use “Busy” with The Friend)
Friend : Apparently. You have got everything to do but call me. I dont have any importance in your life. You cant even call me on weekends. I cant believe you are telling me you were so busy that You couldnt even call me alas there is no willingness to meet. bla bla bla bla…
(For around 10 minutes. There is only one way to know when to stop this friend from speaking. Take out the cell phone and put a cotton bowl in your ear. If there are stains of blood. STOP HER!)

I put the phone down. I make coffee for myself. I put the bread in toaster. I get butter. I pour coffee. I take a chair and get to balcony. And get the phone back up to the ear. Ears, when subject to higher decible levels unceasingly, could get damaged.

“….. You have no respect for my feelings. Didnt you miss me?”
Me : I am sorry. yes yes.. I miss you.
Friend : like what?

And I went on to tell just like moon misses sun and that stuff. You know, girls never grow old. At the age of 40, they would still believe a man telling them you come to my dream. I mean, Grow Up!!

Mitigation to the disease : The Government is to pass a rule amending the current law of marriage age. For Girls, now onwards the marriage age should be atleast 30. So that there partners could be saved from severe mental distress and disorders. 😛

Hail Everyone!

The content below may be offensive to some people. I apologies to them. I had nothing better to write on. 😉 Request to just enjoy..

The last Cigarrette

He opened the pack and took the cigarette out.

“The last one“, he hissed, glancing at me.
The air breezed softly past us, the lighter fought to remain alive, a red glitch appeared through the corner of his mouth.

I felt the smoke on my face, “Why do you smoke?” I said, disgruntled with myself for some unobvious reason.

“Why don’t you?”

“It’s bad for lungs.”

“My lungs are no good.”

Silence followed. The smoke began to talk with air. Night started to wither along the cigarette. Somehow I felt this cigarette must not end. Chirag Deshpande

Suddenly he threw it away, halfway burnt, took his foot upon it, taking the life away from it.. I looked at his foot, then at him, then the smoke still reminiscent across, dissolving in the dark, just as it was supposed to.. How easy it’s for some things to let go.

“Is the dawn still away?”

“I guess not. You want to have some sleep?” Chirag Deshpande

“I want to wake up.”