You can’t force love by posting status updates, silly girl—at best you’ll get a few likes and crying reactions! (If you’re lucky, maybe some laughing reactions too!) While there’s still time, quietly slip away!
Seeing your tears,
He cooks his meals.
No sleep—fine…he eats
With gusto—biryani.
Love doesn’t starve you,
Only makes your body slim.
Tell me girl,
Why do you cry?
Got dumped?
Eat chicken!
In your room, the end,
In his room, a girlfriend.
Oh love! Alas,
Love!
After the breakup
And…from darling to beast!
One heart, a hundred homes,
This is what they call love!
Love you. Let’s
Sleep!
Who are you?
Let me sleep!
Did you write all this just to lecture me? You don’t need to lecture me, brother! I understand everything! I understand but pretend not to. My heart won’t accept it—that kind of thing. Don’t you get it? I have just one demand, one condition—give me love, or you’ll get slapped! (I mean, you will!) But I never post anything on Facebook anyway, so why did you write “posting status updates”?
Alright, let me tell you my feelings for you very briefly, okay? I always miss you. I like everything about you—even when you dodge some of my mischievous remarks, I enjoy that too. You’re quite cleverly evasive in a subtle way! I don’t want anything bad for you—actually, I don’t wish bad for anyone. I enjoy reading some of your writings over and over, though not all of them. And that story you wrote, sir—about not calling me “Cartoon”—I got really annoyed with you after reading that. Why, brother? Just because she’s under your authority, you think you’ve earned the right to name her whatever you want? Well, how would you feel if your boss called you “Saggy” (a cartoon character) or “Flying Fish”? Huh? Think about it a bit. If it bothers you, apologize to her; if it seems fine, then everything in the world is fine. Those who do wrong never feel troubled by it, because to them, that wrong action seems right. Okay, I’m starting to ramble again! So what I was trying to say is, you could say I “love” you in a devotional sense, but also in that sense—you know, that other sense too (you know very well what “that” means. No point pretending you don’t. I mean, I do have some shame, you know!) Have I fallen in love? Don’t be scared! Don’t be scared! Read everything first! Let me finish before you make any hasty decisions. I get the feeling you’re impatient.
For a moment, let me assume that the answer to my question above is positive, and let me also assume that you feel something similar. (Please don’t get angry right away—I’m just assuming, nothing more than that.) So what will become of us? How will it happen? Even though I think of Hindus and Muslims as one and the same in my heart, socially—well, forget society—I’m Muslim by family. But if you want, if you have any prayers for me to convert to any religion, just ask me to recite them—I can say them laughingly. Religion is something very deep, brother. Just saying something with your mouth doesn’t make you gain or abandon it. It may be that Hindu-Muslim-Buddhist-Christian are all the same to me—actually not the same, I rank cruel and ill-mannered boys third, regardless of their religion; I rank boys of all religions second; and I rank first those who think like me, meaning those whose first or primary identity is—human being. Testing people by their religion isn’t in my nature. Look how beautifully, how liberally I’ve spoken, but I could only say these things to you—I don’t have the courage to say them in front of anyone else! People have become far too impatient, intolerant. People love religion because they find joy in quarreling about religion and think that heaven is somehow confirmed by it. They act as if making more noise about religion means practicing the religion more! What a bunch of foolish asses! Where are the people who would take my words simply? Never mind! Let the bastards fight and die! Back to the story I was telling. If two people of different religions fall head over heels in love, if one simply cannot live without the other, if they’re drowning in deep love day and night—what then? What will happen to those two? Horse’s eggs will happen! There’ll be some drama, some acting, some crying, some… what do they call it… oh yes, tumultuous waves in the heart… then each will go their separate way. This is reality. No one’s life ends for someone else. Life isn’t cinema—life is more merciless, more ruthless, more cruel than reality itself.
Now, let me assume the answer to the question above would be:
Yes, you put the librarian in terrible
trouble for no reason, but the librarian
fellow can’t think of you as anything beyond one of his readers
(haaaaaappy? Here, take some puffed rice,
chew on that now!),
then what happens? So… things are getting messy here… even then it’ll be
a horse’s egg, brother. But the egg will be rotten… Ammuuuuuu… I mean… I’ll
feel bad, it’ll hurt. (And
you’ll have horse eggs.) I might even
cry a little. So are you thinking that I
want you? No, not exactly that either, the whole thing is really quite complicated… I want to stay
free, don’t want to get into any
mess. But then again, I want something, I don’t know what, I can’t understand it myself. Will you understand
all this? Or will you think I’m just
putting on an act? I’m really not that delicate, whimpering romantic type.
I’m a bit rough around the edges. I like funny talk more than love talk. Still,
somewhere there’s a ‘but’! That ‘but’ is a woman’s ‘but’—you won’t understand. I don’t know where it is. Do you know what the main
torment of being a woman is? Whatever I say with my mouth, in the end I do fall for some boy or other. Boys aren’t
good things, brother—if you like them,
then it’s trouble, absolute
disaster! Want to hear something true? I’m really
enjoying my current
situation. This business of keeping someone in your heart secretly—there’s actually
something wonderfully fun about it. You won’t understand that. Materialists won’t understand this feeling.
If you were the boy next door, no matter what might have happened, it probably wouldn’t have been this much torture. You live so far
away… distance makes people so restless, impatient, anxious. Along with that works a kind of
fear—the fear of losing! On Facebook I can see you but you can’t tell,
this whole thing feels very strange
somehow. But it feels bad only when I think this won’t last anymore,
or someday you’ll belong to someone else,
or you won’t remember me anymore,
or maybe I won’t miss you
anymore, or… that’s it!
All this stuff!… So when I think about these things I feel very bad. Very, very, very much
worse. You won’t understand.
Have you noticed something? How much our country’s women have progressed? Before, it was the boys who used to be afraid and the girls who would cause that fear, and now apparently it’s the girls who are afraid! Ha ha ha! And the naughty boys are doing the scaring! Well, what’s to be done, sir! I don’t want to hold you back; even if I could, I wouldn’t—I’ve never in my life forbidden anyone from doing anything about their own life and I won’t either, I’m a bit self-centered like that, brother! Though I’m definitely expert-level when it comes to giving people free advice! But I won’t beg you for love either, thinking that maybe I could rattle off the lyrics to all those classical songs of separation, I know them too, but that doesn’t mean I’ll actually say such things to you! You have no idea how strong I am. Rather than give me something out of pity, I’d be happier if you grabbed me by the neck and kicked me out, but not pity. Just never! I swear by the Creator! But since I’m truly your devotee, sooooo…..you could say a word or two to make your devotee happy. I mean, if you could just say a little bit…..hey Shanaya babuuuuu…..hey sweethearttttt…..don’t be afraid, I’ll never ever forget you. Rest assured, you’ll remain in my memoryyyyy for my whole liiiife! (If you said it like that, I’d honestly melt into complete mush!) Can’t you even say that much? Why not? What would happen if you did? Am I asking you to say it for real? I’m asking you to say it falsely! (Doesn’t understand a thing! Hmph!) You can say whatever else you want beyond this, but not less than this. And is this some ultra-romantic obscene level of talk that simply can’t be said? This is ordinary talk, and it can be said to anyone. And it’s not like you can’t make false promises. You’re an expert at that, you hypocrite! I know that! And would I go tell anyone? So? What would happen if you said it? Hurry up and tell the lie! I want to hear it! You will say it though! Pleeeease!! I really won’t bother you anymore, won’t waste your time. I’m telling the truth. Now say it. Say it! Not in your mind! Out loud! With actual sound! Believe me, hearing a few small words from me won’t stop you from being a man, you won’t become effeminate. Just try it! Your manhood and masculinity will both remain intact. I know the words are false, baby! Why are you so afraid? Will I cling to you? Even if I do cling, besides bothering you with messages or emails, can I harm you even a drop? What kind of words am I even asking to hear? You think about it and tell me! People say much more romantic things just casually. I only want to hear you tell me specifically that you won’t forget me. That’s it! Done! And I don’t want to make it happen either, dad, I just want to let it enter through my ears and settle in my head and live a charcoal life burning with great joy every moment with that thing. Even fulfilling this small desire is hurting your ego! I know you don’t love me, so you’ll definitely show me your ego. That’s right, brother. Fine! But still, this much?!
Now if it happens that the answer to that question, whatever Shanaya is feeling, is just a matter of time. If it all blows over in a couple of days, then what else! If something like that happens, you’ll be saved and I’ll be saved too. And then invite me to your wedding, I love eating at other people’s homes! In return, you’ll come to mine too, okay! But just because I don’t foam at the mouth about living alone doesn’t mean I’m a man-hater! Actually, I want to be free. Can you walk with shackles on your feet, tell me? Still, if after two or three years, seeing you two, I also feel like, you know, putting on shackles, then you’ll find a guy for me too. Yes? I’ll need someone tall who can make me laugh a lot and can laugh a lot himself. I don’t have any headaches about skin color, but if he’s not directly imported from Africa, I’ll get some technical advantages. You know what I mean! Eyes, ears, nose, hair—everything normal is fine, just the eyes shouldn’t be shifty, and he should speak beautifully, and if I say something about religion and all that, it shouldn’t bother him—rather he’ll participate with me, and he won’t be greedy for money but won’t be a pauper either, and extremely brave and honest and very generous, I mean open-handed about spending money, and won’t laugh at jokes that insult women, won’t make them either, and won’t have a nitpicking nature about anything, meaning he’ll have the ability to take everything easily, and he’ll know everything about me that you know nothing about and won’t pry into those things, and I won’t pry into his past either (how men love to dig into women’s pasts, I’ve seen! As if everything about them is only present and everything about women is only past. What a bunch of hypocrites!) And he’ll have to be intelligent and will be able to love me a lot, and he’ll have to lovingly mix rice and feed me by hand and talk to me with great affection and will never scold me in his life no matter how much damage I cause, and won’t have a tendency to save money and will be travel-crazy and won’t have any whining, miserable type of sadness about not getting things and…and…and…will have no interest in changing me, will let me be just as I am, and will put food-related matters at the very bottom of his priority list and won’t be pretentious and won’t be affected and will have the habit of listening to and speaking directly and won’t have materialistic thoughts and will love my parents and be intelligent and…and…that’s it…done! Just this much is needed! I’m a woman after all! My demands are a bit much! Other women have even more demands, huh, mine are actually less! Oh yes, good point! I’ll forget to mention it again. Along with everything I said, a couple more small things might get added, can’t remember right now! For now, just those few things are enough!
Hahahahahahaha… You won’t find such a guy in this lifetime, there’s no ready-made version, you’d have to place an order to get one made, which is impossible!… So I won’t need to look for anyone either. That’s why I want to stay alone. Clear?
Oh my! I completely forgot to mention something really important! Absolutely, absolutely, and most absolutely—he must be a romantic boy who has no physical desire! Or even if he does, it shouldn’t be directed at me. If he has physical desires for other women, fine, but his love should be for me alone. Eh! What am I even saying! I don’t know what I’m actually trying to say! Never mind, my head’s gone completely mad. It was half-mad before, and after meeting you, the other half has gone too. Though I’d be happy to find a boy like that—physically impotent, I mean important, but mentally a real man!! Hahaha… Sorry. Actually, my experience with sex has been quite cruel and terrible!
I couldn’t really explain it properly. I mean… I mean… I mean… alright, forget it, you don’t need to understand all that. So, are you thinking I’m being loose, that’s why I’m saying all this? Hah! When I—I mean we—I mean the sisters or girlfriends get together, the things we talk about… if you could be made invisible and present there, or if some girls’ chat could be recorded and played for you… you’d collapse unconscious right there, I swear to God! Most boys have no idea about girls! They think when girls get together, they chatter about dolls, cooking, saris and jewelry, but the reality is completely different! And I’ve become decent now—in school, we were each absolute donkeys. We could spout utterly, utterly, utterly filthy language nonstop! I named our batch ‘The Age of Ignorance.’
Oh my God! How many pages have I written! This is eating me alive! So, haven’t you read it? Or are you reading? I thought I wouldn’t write much, so what have I done? I’ve delivered a complete epic of blabbering! And there’s still one important thing left to say! I’m actually a chatterbox child! Don’t trust me. No matter how much I say I’ll talk less… well, a dog’s tail never straightens, so my words won’t get any fewer either. I feel like giving myself a good whack on the mouth with a stick! Just looking over such a long piece again to edit it will be the death of me!
Alright, let me quickly say that urgent thing. Okay?
But I won’t tell lies—that’s the vow I’m making as I sit down to write! I knew nothing about you because I didn’t use Facebook. But I knew your name and had seen a sort of blurry, luminous photo of your face in Classic’s prospectus. I imagined you’d be some elderly person. There’s a police officer, isn’t there? Your friend? I was following him first. I read one of his pieces and felt really bad—I mean, I liked it a lot. (Reading that piece made me feel awful, meaning it was well-written—that’s what I’m trying to say.) Just that one piece, though. It appeared in the 33rd Viva or 34th Written group. I can’t remember where I read it. I noticed there’s a kind of arrogance about all of you. Maybe only I could see it, because everyone else was just busy flattering you; though I could be wrong about that too. Actually, I have this problem—when someone makes fun of others, even if it’s genuinely funny, it puts me in a bad mood. I used to see that police officer loved to laugh at others’ helplessness and make others laugh too. Then he’d show off by posting book photos and telling stories about finishing the Ramayana in childhood! But then he wrote “Boys’ Ramayana” instead of Jogindranath Sarkar’s “Children’s Ramayana”—which is actually Upendrakishore Ray Chaudhuri’s! I corrected him and then, in terror, unfollowed and fled! Everyone’s afraid of him, he intimidates everyone for no reason, so I was scared too. All this happened long ago, and I became your follower much later—maybe during the 34th Written or a bit before; I don’t remember exactly, but not much earlier, because why hadn’t I found your writing before then? I can’t remember if I was following Admin Zahir Bhai or not, but I remember reading one of his pieces about how to write creatively—that I remember. Speaking of creative writing, I’m actually quite a master at making things up. After mistakenly passing both the preliminary and written exams, I actually developed a love for BCS and immense respect for warriors like you. I used to see you all through different eyes. Back then, you all seemed like something else entirely, and along with that came a little anger—why can you all do everything? Why can’t I do anything? Please don’t tell anyone I said this—everyone will laugh.
Look, what’s the problem with these BCS celebrities? Why do they love making fun of ignorant people so much?
Anyway, I remembered their stories—I mean, their writings—but I couldn’t remember any of their names, so later I couldn’t find any of them. How could I search when I couldn’t remember anyone’s name! And much later, after quarreling with you and becoming a regular on your page, I discovered they were all your friends! Tell me, you do admit that people like Rezvi Hasan are at least a bit more popular than you all, don’t you? Go check out their pages! They don’t go around pointing out others’ mistakes or hurt people in comments. They don’t even have time to troll anyone. And you people?
You are the world’s sick, unemployed, envious, perverted, worthless public! Trolling is such a terrible culture. Any street kid can troll Donald Trump and feel supremely happy, think himself clever, but at the end of the day Donald Trump is the President of America and that bastard is just a street kid. That’s reality, brother! I actually don’t even know whose follower I was. That’s why I later forgot to unfollow too. There’s no point following bad people, whether they’re hugely successful or some kind of great warrior! That was about others—now let me talk about you. Once I read one of your pieces and was charmed, and also a bit surprised that you think like me, but I didn’t fall in love or anything at that time. And sorry, I didn’t know you were such a young boy. Then I read another one and thought, hey, why are you so good! Devotion crept in! (For nothing!) I thought, a BCS celebrity who’s actually a good person? How is that possible? Celebrities are all number six public, aren’t they? Those bastards have one face and another heart. Is it possible to become a celebrity without being utterly cunning? They make even the lightest matters seem profound and use it for self-marketing and showing off. And the public is just like that too! If you serve up shit nicely arranged on a platter, they’ll eat it with a smile. My love, devotion, disgust—whatever you call it—all comes with a boom and goes with a boom! I didn’t know others on Facebook that well then, and I still don’t know many, but among them, of those who write, I only found you. And I really liked your writing. Then after reading another piece I thought, oh my! How amazing! This boy is supposed to be studious, boring, intellectual type, and look, he can be funny too! I couldn’t find arrogance in the writing. Maybe there is some. Maybe you hide it, or don’t hide it, or maybe I just couldn’t find it because I was biased toward you. But there’s no point looking for that now. What had to happen has happened! I don’t think I can get angry at you anymore.
When I was just starting to use Facebook bit by bit, had gotten a job, and was beginning to introduce myself on Facebook—though I couldn’t quite figure out how to use it properly—that’s when The Great Author knocked me! Wow! How was that even possible? Yes, I had sent him a message once, long ago. But that wasn’t any kind of invitation. Brother, I considered you all celebrities—I never expected this much. Anyway, I was so thrilled I started dancing! Apart from my uncle and my best friend Nisha, nobody used to knock me back then. I had only a handful of friends, literally counted on fingers! I was absolutely stunned seeing your message. Me? How? Why? Someone named Shanaya Khan getting a knock—and from an author, no less! Just seeing my name would put most people off talking! Anyway, I realized that the real person and the imagined person aren’t the same! And what had I been thinking! My mood turned sour and I was all mixed up… I got angry and behaved badly with you, and then I saw that you felt hurt, and then I got mad at myself and felt ragaya (anger+affection) toward you. But really, how can someone so emotional be so mischievous? It’s quite a mystery. It wasn’t your fault—I was the one who lied. And then what happened? In some game, only your photo kept showing up with mine! How was that possible? And that photo of yours was so beautiful. Then I don’t know what came over me! Going to your page became an addiction, though I still thought you were emotional but a bad person. When I’d see everyone calling you good, I’d laugh and think, none of them know what a rascal this guy is! And whenever I’d spot a negative comment or two on your wall, I’d feel pleased. Then something else happened! Facebook started meaning just looking at you. And the amazing thing was, I used to poke at you so much, but you were so polite that even now I’m amazed thinking about it. How did you tolerate all that? Ufff! Good lord! You’re such a well-behaved child! If it were me, I swear I would’ve started a fight, or given such scoldings, or at the very least blocked you! You did nothing. Why?? I don’t understand. I really enjoyed bothering you. If you had trashed me in any of your statuses, there’d have been nothing I could do—your fans would’ve absolutely washed me away! You’re truly good, brother! Really!
I don’t know about all of them, but I could tell you’d read a message or two of mine. Of course, I never wrote anything truly awful. For some reason, I felt like I understood you. Whenever a girl thinks she understands some boy, she tries even harder to understand him, eventually launching into full-scale research about that boy, and in the process of all this trying and researching, she suddenly tumbles into love with him. And what devastating love it is! And what fault is it of mine, really, when somehow your writing would align so perfectly with my thoughts? I’d be startled! Then who knows what else happened! When people came to the house or I had work to do, I’d get irritated thinking about when I could get back to the computer! I mean, that machine seemed to pull at me constantly. On days when you didn’t post anything, it felt like something was missing! You never seemed like a bad person to me; I only thought good things about you, though you’re actually not that much of a good person. I don’t know when you transformed from bad to good in my eyes. One day you cursed the smugglers, remember? Oh, how my heart sank, and oh, how terrified I was! I can’t think about anyone that way. When I hear cursing, something just clenches in my chest! But don’t think I’m some goody-two-shoes—I know way more curses than you do, but those are just for friends. I’m not weak or cowardly, but I have some kind of problem. When I hear or see scolding, cursing, or fighting, I get terribly frightened. I feel strange! My heartbeat races, I feel helpless! When anyone shouts, I get scared and lose all my strength! And when my parents fight, I want to die! I think about suicide! But then again, I can shout plenty myself! And then I don’t feel scared at all! Does that mean my own shouting is something different? I don’t understand! Tell me, why am I like this? Do you know why I’m this way?
Well, then what happened? Days passed. But the “who knows” feeling didn’t stop! More “who knows” kept happening—for some reason you seemed excessively naive and sentimental to me, and still do! Maybe you’re not naive; maybe I’m misunderstanding. People love to imagine everything according to their own perspective. And I’m the master of imagining things. Tell me, why do you get so affected by the smallest things? My fondness kept growing! For no reason! Then more “who knows”… more “who knows”… more status updates… more mischief… more photos… more notes… more knowing… more familiarity… more guilt… more “who knows”… more, more “who knows”… more… more… more… more… my favorite pastime—thinking about you all the time! There, I’ve hidden nothing. I’ve blurted out everything! Now what will happen? For some reason I think you know all this and laugh while reading my words. As I’m writing this, my heartbeat has shot up! Do these dramatics make any sense? Well, if I have a heart attack now, who will be responsible?
You know, I’ve acquired a new adopted brother. He’s my 10-year-old little sister’s friend. I find this whole brother-adopting business quite revolting, actually. But here I am, having adopted two brothers now. A big brother in childhood, and a little brother in my grown-up years! But I have my reasons. This boy’s words are rather… peculiar! So I quickly adopted him as a brother to shut him up beforehand. I have only one real brother. He came into this world on 02/11/1983 and left that very same day. Ugh….. no other boy is worthy of taking my brother’s place. Yes, brother, my heart is very small. I can’t pretend to be good by lying. So, I told this little adopted brother of mine that I love a boy. A Hindu boy. The boy pays me no attention, how much it hurts me….. blah blah blah! And I made up various other stories….. remember how I said I enjoy talking about you? Well, I’ve driven the poor boy crazy! He says I should tell you I love you, asks why I’m such a coward, claims that if I truly loved someone I wouldn’t be afraid, insists that love doesn’t need feedback, and all sorts of other common platitudes. Oh boy, what should I say? How should I say it? Whatever I say, I’ll end up ruining something perfectly natural! And the biggest thing is, I’m confused myself!! But I can’t tell this little boy any of this! He’ll just get excited! (These little boys nowadays are quite the rascals! They look like they understand nothing, but deep down they’re cunning as anything!) Anyway, whatever was on my mind, I’ve said it all! I haven’t held anything back! I’ve explained everything, so now what all this means—whether you understand it or don’t—that’s your responsibility. If I’m being honest, I have to say I don’t understand myself what I was trying to say! (Have you noticed that you’re exactly one year younger than my dear departed brother?)
Will you promise me something? Don’t ask me anything directly about what I’ve said. I’ll be terribly uncomfortable! I’ll be embarrassed! Though you’re a well-mannered child, you don’t say anything anyway. You just enjoy the show! Well, after hearing all this, are you going to get scared and start avoiding me? But believe me, I’ll be the one running away from this whole thing, so how could I possibly bother you? This is far too sensitive for me. But it’s up to you! You can do whatever you want.
Another thing,
you know, brother, you’ve taken on quite the airs,
though maybe you haven’t. From talking with you,
hanging out, or what I’ve gleaned from Facebook — whatever little I know — I trust you for no reason at all, or in some inexplicable way,
I mean, I don’t know why. Because I think of you
as someone like myself. And I think of myself as, well,
a decent person, you know.
So you must be too…..you get it, right! When you say you’ll call me back in a bit, I don’t believe it anymore. But I do believe
that you’ll genuinely forget, I believe
you’re very busy, I believe
you don’t have much time, and I also believe that you’re not intentionally giving me the cold shoulder.
I swear to God, I believe
these things. I’m unemployed, have nothing to do,
and even then if I’m so short on time
and so absent-minded, imagine what your situation must be like! That I can’t remember
anything at all — no one believes this. So I guess yours is the same, meaning no one
believes yours either! Still, I get angry with you sometimes, but I believe you’re
genuinely a busy person. But I have this friend, whom I’ve told your name, and she doesn’t believe this. She said something. She
said you’re apparently playing mind games with me and she’s sure of it. Listen, is this true? If it’s false, sorry. Really sorry. Just stop here. No need to read
further. But if it is true, then I want to know who you’re playing with? With me? How? I’m not even on the field! I’ve already admitted defeat and am sitting here,
brother! Don’t you understand? Then are you
playing all by yourself? And why
are you playing at all? I can’t stand
this stuff. I haven’t done anything! So what if I said something a bit harsh ages ago?
You did the same thing.
So why this game? Is it to keep me hanging around because I won’t stick around if you’re direct?
And to have some fun? To inflate the numbers of girls on some fake waiting list?
Can’t you just tell me straight up — girl, the path you’re heading down, there’s actually nothing there! I won’t go forward! Done!
Would it really hurt you so much if I didn’t stand in that waiting line? And does it make you happy when I stay in that queue like everyone else?
Are you saying I have to stay there
knowing full well what’s what? Have I harmed you in any way? I haven’t! So brother, just tell me straight — Shanaya, stop having foolish thoughts about me. Let whatever
is as it is remain as it is, you go your way
and I’ll go mine, being an admirer is fine,
don’t think beyond that,
you’ll only get hurt. Can’t you say
this? Don’t forget to say those lies
from before, the ones I wanted
to hear, and also go ahead and say these truths too. Okay?
You have no idea about me. Everything about me is under my control. I can do many things that others in my position wouldn’t be able to do. For instance, if some girl spreads terrible things about me—true, false, or half-true—deliberately just to belittle me or out of jealousy, and even though I know or understand everything, I pretend as if I know nothing. Not only do I speak to her nicely, but if she asks for my help and I have the ability to help, and it causes me no harm, I don’t turn her away. I can see everyone with the same eyes. I never let my personal irritation interfere with anything. I remain honest in my behavior toward others—I mean, whatever may be going on in my mind, good or bad, I can set it aside and see everything neutrally. Even knowing the bad words behind people’s good words, I can remain normal with them. Even knowing someone doesn’t wish me well, I don’t show them anything bad—I mean, there’s no change in my behavior or words when talking to them. And you—you haven’t harmed me at all, brother! And you won’t either. You speak to me so beautifully, joke with me, praise me, don’t show irritation, tolerate me, spend time with me—so how could my good behavior toward you change? You’ll remain as you are—no anger, no hurt feelings, no complaints. So please, don’t tell me the truths, brother! Nothing will happen to me. But please don’t play mischievous games. Even if you really are playing mind games, I don’t blame you for that either. Because, being a girl and still acting like a fool, I’m the one who’s given you the opportunity to play with me, isn’t that right? Still, I’m asking you excessively—stop all the games! At least the ones involving me.
Yes, I love you. (Oh my Godddd! Attack, attack……heart attack!!) But am I asking for love in return? I’m no beggar, I’m a giver. Though a thief-like giver. Take if you will, stay quiet if you won’t. And giving and taking—that’s your business. I won’t speak about others’ affairs. However, as a devotee I might have small claims, don’t go mixing that up with love and all that. I love you when you’re good and when you’re bad too…..waaahhh…..I don’t know! It’s true, I haven’t told you all my truths. Why should I? I can like someone, I can even get caught liking them, that’s my business! And if thinking about someone makes my time pass pleasantly, can anyone say anything about that? Just because I’ve fallen in love, has someone bought me or what? You’re nobody to me, so whom I tell what about myself and what I don’t—that’s entirely my business. You have no right to know. But what I think about you, or don’t think—you can certainly ask about that if you want. Since you’re the related party and all! So I haven’t hidden anything at all! Whatever happened, whatever I thought whenever—I told you everything. Maybe lots of things got left out, but one can’t remember everything, brother! (That’s already so much!) Once I start talking I can’t stop. They say people talk more when they get old! And what I’m starting now—I’m scared of my own future seeing this. And if I realize that you’re truly playing mind games with me, then I’ll be very hurt. Very very much. Nothing else. But I won’t curse you—I don’t even curse those I despise, and you…I can spend good time just with myself. One request—please don’t make your beloved read my writing. Pleeeease…..
I’m staying at my sister’s place now. My heart feels heavy for no particular reason. No matter how comfortably they keep me, how lovingly they feed me my favorite foods, how they take me out for walks—somehow nothing feels right without my own wild, jungle-like room, messy and broken-down and dirty though it may be! This has been happening since I was little. I can chat all day, have fun, play around, but when night falls, I absolutely must be in my own room! Even if I stay with my sisters for just one night at their request, my poor heart grows so melancholy! I can’t settle into conversations! And I spend the night sleepless! I know right now you’re probably gallivanting around with those flattering letter-writers, making merry. Not only do I have to think about all this, but I haven’t seen my beloved room in so many days! You understand my predicament! Unable to stay in my own wild little room, I haven’t been able to sleep these past few nights out of sheer longing! I just want to cry my heart out! Listen, could you say a little prayer for me? Good deeds wash away sins. You have plenty of virtue, and by comparison your sins are negligible. So even if you are a sinner, the Creator will hear your prayers. I’m terribly afraid—somehow I feel that in the end I’ll be dismissed from this job, either the appointment will be cancelled, or something awful will definitely happen! That I should work, be independent, have no sorrows—will the Creator really give me such happiness? Does the Creator love me that much? Or is He too playing games with me like you do? I don’t know, nothing feels right to me anymore. I want to cry out loud! Please pray for me. Goodbye! Let me remind you once more—don’t quickly offer me those false words of comfort, and then I’ll take my leave!
May peace be upon you. And now I’ve become just another ordinary devoted reader like everyone else. Alright? But remember—not a blind devotee though! Goodbye again. Come, let’s return once more to strangers… “Aajnabi Baanjaye Ham Dono”… such a wonderfully beautiful song by Mahendra Kapoor. Listen to it—it has similarities to our situation.
Oh you rascal! Peace be upon you. How beautifully you’ve written! Eeeeee…..
Reading your writing just lifted my spirits! But why do you include other people’s words in your own writing? Everyone already knows those things anyway. I don’t have a problem with it, but a couple of people mentioned that you beat your own drum, so I thought I’d mention it. But the writing is very beautiful. I’m filled with such longing and envy! Wait, once I get this job, God willing, I’ll live exactly like that too. Not once a year, but many times over.
Listen,
I have this utterly silly desire
that’s been with me since childhood—I want to make films. But I’m not a movie
addict like you. I’m not really addicted to anything. I mean everything exists for me, but I don’t exist for anything. When I was little and auntie would read me a story or two, I’d see the scenes
in my mind. When I got a bit older, I thought, let others see things the way I imagine them. That’s all the capital I have. I barely read books. Just the couple of novels I read in school and college,
that’s it. And poetry—only what I read as a child. I don’t watch that many movies, but we have films at home,
on the computer I mean. Uncle or some smart friend brought them over, but I never find time to watch. My time gets eaten up being dad’s helping hand with his random
projects. So does that mean I can’t do it?
I’m an idiot. No problem—
I’ll just make something idiotic! Let me make one first, then slowly
I’ll improve! Besides, my films are for me—if the public doesn’t watch them,
no problem. If making films makes me happy, then I’m happy. What? Can’t I do it? I know you’ll laugh at my audacity. Why do I think
I can do this? And why am I even telling you? There’s some kind of magic in me—I might not be able to do great things, but what I can do,
I do right away. I never have to do anything
twice. Look, I know nothing about trees, but if I plant even a dead branch, something grows. And it flowers so much the tree bends over! This is absolutely true. But none of my hobbies last long. I don’t water them, and I know nothing about fertilizer. Meanwhile dad
plants so many trees with fertilizer and such careful tending, and sadly, not one survives! I still have a few trees. One cherry blossom tree grew so big and
its fallen leaves made such a jungle, I didn’t clean it up,
so dad got angry and cut it down! But my stubborn little tree grew back! Making a mess again! Dad cut it down to the roots again but it’s such a persistent thing that I see a tiny thin branch
has sprouted and leaves are growing from it again! Isn’t that funny? Hahaha…..but the bastard
pig ate my tuberose plant on Eid! That one never came back! It was already angry with me,
that’s why! Want to know why it was angry? I’m such an idiot, I didn’t like how the leaves looked so I planted it behind the house where no one could see it or go, in some hidden spot. But oh what a beautiful fragrance! The plant was insulting me. Anyway, there are other stories like this. Many things in this world happen
without anyone knowing. What’s the point of all this knowing? If the work gets done, that’s what matters! I don’t have anyone to beat my drum, so I have to beat it myself! Hahaha……what does one thing have to do with another! Filmmaking with tree planting!
Hahaha…..