Latched onto Obscurity Cloud and now am unable to get off! Need to speared and pinned onto Focus Wheel. Maybe the technical writing will help. Talked to Jivraj after a long time :)

Communicating has become a drag. There's so much I could write or say but I don't feel like making the effort. The result ...no blogging, no making phonecalls, no writing...I'm not even answering my cell at times. The only relief in this blockage was the letter I wrote to Dr Nandan. And since I forsee that I shall be writing more letters, I went and got myself some beautiful, handmade notepaper with matching envelopes.
My college has a sprawling campus. It's possible to get lost...and I'm in favour of that. It's a lush, green place with old-world British architecture. Philosophy is the most interesting subject I have. The professor is a smart man, with touches of sexism and smears of sarcasm and bigger smears of ego. He knows his subject and is convinced that he fathered Socrates. The first day I attended, I indirectly told him to shut up. I also told my English professor that our democratic status is strongly debatable and that my ambition is to be a recluse and live in a library. After that first day, I've clammed up. Sociology is boring. We're doing the differences between sociology and other social sciences in great detail. Similarities and differences. In discussing the similarities between psychology and sociology, we were told that 'both are sciences'. I assume that means that both use scientific methods in their studies but there weren't any questions as to what 'scientific' means, why it is considered the most 'reasonable' etc. The professor (I love that word; so college-ish) is a flexible, understanding guy. Dr Nandan would like him. But the teacher-student relationship remains impersonal and restricted to the classroom...at least so far. I have my first test in French on Saturday and am very excited. Our English course is...ok. We have Auden and Burns and Keats etc for poetry and short stories by Katherine Mansfield and others. We have 'Animal Farm' in S.Y, I think. Our English teacher is a nice guy.

I have had bouts of terrible homesickness. I miss hearing Bangla, speaking it in college. In desperation, I've started listening to modern Bangla music. I called Shaunak a few days ago and whined for a good 20 minutes! I wish I could be easy and playful and hug someone. I miss Cal.

I land heavily on people I want to be close to. At least I used to. Now I am careful to restrain myself. What a relief it would be to be naive and not struggle to hold some part back. Terrified that the Other will get bogged down and start to pull away. Which is why I hold people at arm's length. My need to lean is as great as my paradoxical desire for isolation. Not independence, but isolation. Emotionally, carrying myself alone is tiring. I exalt in the tiredness; I convince myself it is a test of limits. If another touches me, I am liable to throw myself at them completely. I cannot give in to that. I am not convinced that any O ther can handle it. There must always be part of me that remains with me alone. The moods, the masochism, the incomplete disregard for public opinion... I can only give out what the Other will find attractive. I am bad at games...that is the root of the problem.

In Literature class, most of the students can't get past Shakespeare. One guy likes Edgar Allen Poe and Dylan Thomas. But since he has a strong Marathi accent I, the Great Intellectual Snob do hereby grudge him even knowing them by name. What a blow to my ideal of flexibility!! Things are more structured here. However, the structures are explorable. I've been listening to Peter Gabriel and Sarah McLachlan.

We got back from Cal this morning after a hectic five days. I start college tomorrow. I start college tomorrow! Cal was good. Strange pangs of nostalgia. This is cliched but...the city has touched me. The bars on the windows, faded curtains, televison flickering...tuned to Doordarshan. The slowness, the rickshaw horns. I believe I'm identifying with Rabindra :)

I gave Mrinalini the book on photography. I was flipping through it. Very interesting. It links up photography with history and art and social structure. Hope you enjoy it, honeybee. I also slipped Dr Seuss into Jivraj's bag. haven't received any feedback on that yet. I've bought a book by Hanif Kureishi which contains a novel called 'Intimacy' and a collection of short stories. I've also bought 'Less Than Zero' by Bret Easton Ellis. I watched 'Bad Education' with Roshni. I don't think I've ever viewed homosexuality with so much...tenderness. I have to watch it again and let it seep in. I'm going to start aerobics and driving lessons. I am going to college tomorrow with two Navneet hardcover exercise books and two pens. I went and ordered myself a pair of very sexy glasses today. I miss people. I miss people who have become strangers. Who else will drift off? And how much more indifferent will I be?

Finally set up my link list! I've been taking flying leaps in and out of several books. Sophie's world, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall by Anne Bronte, Erma Bombeck, William Carries on and a historical novel called Aztec Blood. Dad's been recommending 'William ' books to me for years. I enjoyed 'William Carries On.' Richmal Crompton strikes me as a tougher, more realistic Enid Blyton. As for 'The tenant...', I've always enjoyed a Bronte novel. There's something in the quaint language that appeals. Though this one is somewhat more coarse. And the heroine is always passionately repressed. Hmm....no wonder.
I've almost finished cataloguing Dad's cd's. We're up to a thousand-fifty-eight, people!!! And that's not counting compilations and OST'S. I've been listening to Metallica, CCR and The Goo Goo Dolls. And Jim Reeves. None of them mattered much.
Went for the premiere of 'War of the Worlds.' Walked out half-way!! I like sci-fi....and can definitely appreciate special effects, but there was nothing in the movie. I also watched 'Ray'. Finally!! Liked it. It doesn't dwell too much. Missed Shaunak big-time for some reason. :)
I had a chat with Mounik on saturday via msn. He seems different. More up-front, less mocking.
Just spoke to Roshni...breaking the spell of my a-communication.

My neutrality and impending indifference is endangering....
Loneliness strikes down and is driven back.
I'm sending out....please do respond.

Love.

Am back in Pune. Feels good to be back. I'm rather proud that I adapted to conditions in Mumbai...at least the material ones. I have muscle strains in both my legs, first from my tumble on the stairs and then from dancing in stilettoes (have I spelled that right?)

BodoMa died on Monday. I was never close to her, but I've heard stories of her snap and sparkle. And before she went into unofficial coma, I have certain memories of her. How she used to love me in dangly earrings. How she wouldn't allow anyone to help her down the stairs. People are saying it's a good thing she died since she's been a 'vegetable' for years anyway. And it was painless too. I don't know what to think. It depends on how one defines 'living'. Breathing, knowledge, activity...

Wedding's over. No thrills for me, no gushing...nothing as I thought it would be. Am I a failed romantic? Is there any such thing? Why do things matter so little? Ever since January! Even writing. I wish with all my heart that there was familiarity again. Warmth. The cozy feeling of knowing I matter. Talk! God how I miss the conversations? It goes full circle. All the way back to him.

Giving wholly has passed me. With the exception of fatigue and pain, nothing comes to me complete. I'm not a complete slave to my moods yet...but I'm getting there.

Lazy, comfortable days. Drifting into the void of no-routine. There are recurring stabs of the same dagger. Sexually, emotionally, intellectually, intimately. I'm so glad I wrote to Shakun. She never worries me with regard to myself, only with regard to her. Roshni was here for a week. A hectic, peaceful week. We binged. On food, conversation, shopping, sleep, taking photographs, Gael Garcia Bernal, drives and watching the hill. I think we learnt stuff about each other this week.
Love you Rosh :)

Am reading 'Sophie's World' by Jostein Gaarder. The writing is rather amateurish but it's chockfull of ideas. Kind of a very, very simplified 'Intro to Philosophy' course. Movies I've watched include 'Mr and Mrs Smith', 'Parineeta', 'Batman Begins', 'The Motorcycle Diaries', 'Thirteen', 'Finding Neverland', and 'Pay it Forward'. Planning on picking up 'Malena' and 'Loves me, loves me not'.

My 'last' night here. Or is it? I shall remember.
The telephone I called him from...
The breeze through the kitchen window as I washed the dinner dishes...
My room which I permeated so terribly that it carries my stench rather than my essence.
So much has been hurled, so little touched.
I've grown hard and painfully these four years.

A married couple...the wife's a writer. In her own reality. She's writing about an errant husband. Unknowingly she's writing about her own husband's affair, his complexities. In some way, she gets to know her husband intimately through her writing while remaining distant from him in real life...

Peeling charred pieces of skin from my hand.
I felt no revulsion.
Perhaps I'll save them.
Wrap them in virgin paper.

There's need. To be honest, to be soft. I don't understand. I have intelligent, understanding, intimate friends. They would lend an ear if I asked. Why don't I? Am I meant to be a loner? By choice, by circumstance, by socialization?
I wonder if people have conflict regarding what they want to be...and what they want to be known as.

Totally tired. Went to Bansdrani to see Debika. Talked about marriage and women and responsibility and companionship. I don't get radical with her, but it's a sane, sweet thing to have discussions with her. It's like talking to Vidushi. People who believe in God and duty and that love is essentially 'good.' I don't belong to either side neither am I a neutral. I can choose to look at both sides academically. I'm passionate about people...I'd pray for certain people even if i didn't believe in God, but God in the abstract is again a matter of choice. When I did belive, it was because I liked thinking that I had a Higher Power to listen to my whining, and to yell at when things went wrong. I'm using capital 'G's' for God. Not sure what that means.
Just spoke to Mom. She's trying to think of a covertly sexual way to describe breast of chicken in puffed pastry.
Any suggestions? I want to see her so badly. I need comfort. god's not there any more.

Lack of appetite and constant feeling of nausea is getting on my nerves. While I look at emotional sickness as a test of endurance, physical sickness irks me and makes me feel weak.

Had first meeting of Umbra today. Not much to say except it was far more comfortable than I expected. We've yet to decide on the terms and conditions. We'll be doing our first production in July. I'm probably not here, but it's nice being a part of it. I'll be in touch with theatre and with the group.
I'm having sudden, horrible urges to squelch somebody.

Blood warmly staining pure whiteness. Who says white is pure anyway?
Sniffle sniffle cough blow sniffle cough cough...that's my language today. I can be anything I want. It's choice. It's need.
What if I never get bored? What if I don't need constant physical motion? What if I'm always vague and 'crabbity' as Jivraj used to say? Mmmm...used to say. USED to.
If I write a bestseller real quick and get rich I know just where to invest.
The sight of food is making me nauseous. Everything else is making me irritable.
I've been asked to drink plenty of warm fluids. So naturally I went out and bought an ice-cold pepsi and poured it down my throat at one go. Big deal. I've drunk baygon spray.
The fan's whirring. It's too close. The modem's watching me with red, slit-like eyes.

I just said 'no' to applying for a BBA and MBA blah blah from IIPM. dadu looked very disappointed but I can't humour him right now. I hate business stuff..why don't people get that? I think I shall re-name my blog Pain Pamper. Or Whine...something.
Exactly where is all this getting me? Ok, a lot of writing material but at the cost of? I choose my reactions right? I've never believed people who think themselves to be helpless in the wave of their emotions or whatever. But choosing pain is getting to be a habit. I thought I could handle anything. I've pushed my endurance limits, daring my system to let me down. And it crashed.
Let's forget what people have said or might say. I care very deeply. And this is important to me. There is huge regret. I hate regrets. A yearning to get close, warmth, affection. To be allowed to know him again. To hear him mimic Yogi Bear once more. It's scary at times. Or used to be. Now I accept it casually. I'm in the role of giver. I cast myself in it. I'm not a martyr and I don't aspire to be one. It's the only way I can be linked. And I've made a conscious choice to be linked somehow. I'm not sure if I believe in a Higher Power, but I'll pray for him.

DAMMIT!..I will not make myself vulnerable. Out of all the people I know all the people who matter all the people to whom I have given power ONE PERSON has this much of a hold on me. One person makes me lonely and makes me afraid of it. I destroyed nearly all the tangible evidence. But visions can't be destroyed. Links which have nothing to do with me hurt me terribly.
So many times I think I'v adapted so well to being alone. But I have one unfinished intimacy. Was it even there? If it wasnt, what is it that hurts me? And makes me want to be tender? Everytime I feel far away from you I hurt terribly.
You're a stranger I used to know. I haven't given you all I want..

PHEW!!....history and sociology over. 7 hours in Rotary Sadan, even my blisters went red with cold. Doesn't seem so bad now that it's over. I've missed blogging. And now I can look forward to reading and music and Pune. YEE-HA!!

In the words of Truman Capote I have a major case of the mean reds. An impending sense of terror. Claustrophobhia. A certainty that I'm being closed in on. Drumbeats. Louder, deeper. Visions that cause strings in my chest to vibrate. Lumpy heaviness...
Learning is rushing past me.

I've been burning paper.
I lit a pink peony candle and held pages to the flame.
Sometimes the burning paper took on a greenish tinge.
The flame reached my fingers once.
The middle finger and the thumb of my left hand.
I saved one page.
I got nauseous and dizzy.
I cut up and crumpled the rest of the pages.
I gloried in destroying wholeness.
I was a voyeur today and I relished destroying intimacy.
I did it for attention.
I'm writing it here for attention.
For drama.
I got torn between hysterics and histrionics.
There's a skeleton inside me.
It's not my own.

Just enjoyed a leisurely lunch with Dadu, listening to stories of the Freedom Movement. It's moments like these that make me feel that perhaps the last four years haven't been a complete waste. I mean, hearing about my Great-grandfather who disguised himself as a sanyasi and helped a young boy who had shot one of the District Magistrates to escape and Colonel Maitra who shot an ailing Japanese officer and saw his image in a photograph of himself and a friend that was taken some months later...there's enrichment in that.

I took up paintbrush and palette yesterday after years and made a birthday card for Dad. Quite enjoyed it. Maybe I'll take up the piano again too.
The only thing that soothes me these days is drumbeats.