The Plaster of Thought-Walls: 122

Thought: Eight Hundred Forty-Eight

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One. That aspect of the human mind which constantly seeks only pleasure and comfort—that is what we call anger. If we weren't bound to tolerate anger, who in this world would endure another's rage?
The wife who cooks delicious meals for her husband every day—if she must endure her husband's reproach merely because the cooking didn't turn out well for just two or three days, she tolerates it purely out of love, obligation, habit, or fear. If none of these existed within her, she surely wouldn't have made a home with such a husband—one who can only take the good from her, but turns fierce the moment he sees something amiss!
A wife who doesn't have the right to forget salt in the curry just once—how is she any different from the household maid? The maid tolerates reproach because she receives wages; why should a wife tolerate reproach without proper cause?
Read the first sentence of this post again. I know it angers you. Do you know why you should tolerate your anger?
Two. When someone says to me, "I love you," I stare at their face in amazement, eyes wide with wonder!
If they take even a moment to say the next thing, I break their reverie myself and say...and then...!?
...I mean, just like when I was little, listening to grandmother's fairy tales with complete attention! (Meanwhile, background music plays...tell me more, tell me more, this isn't bad at all!)
Buy me a cup of lemon tea at the corner shop when we meet, I'll pay the bill that day; but don't tell such barefaced lies twenty-five times in twenty-four hours, brother!!
If your stomach is cramping, go to the bathroom! Why are you going on and on with all this "I love you, I love you" nonsense, brother? Don't you have a father or brothers at home? In this age of Kali, saying "I love you" is a sin, a sin! You'll go straight to hell even before you die! Mark my words!!
Three. I do not disturb you. I do not impose anything upon you. I never judge you. I have no interest about whatever you do or do not do. It's your life, you have your full freedom to spend it in your own way. Really, I do not bother about your personal life. I respect you. I respect your work. I respect you as an individual and as an artist.
If you cannot respect me, I don't care. But you cannot disrespect me, only because you have spent time and money for me. I am always ready to pay back. I am sorry that I had to tell it. Your attitude, your arrogance, your behaviour have made me think in that way. I am sorry that I had to think in that way.
Don't be so restless. Relationship does not mean that you have to disturb the other person all the time. Neither does it mean you have to misbehave with them all the time. It's silly, it's ridiculous, it's so funny.
Actually, I do not know how much more I should say to make you understand what I mean. You are not acting according to your age. You are not a kid.

Keep everything simple if you can.

Live and let live.

Or just leave and let leave.

I think it's enough.
Four. When you wish to take time from someone who doesn't know you, you must do so in such a way that it never occurs to them that they are wasting their time for you.
No one wastes time for a stranger without reason. If someone does, you must understand that their time will be of little use to you.
What might this approach be? You must figure that out yourself. If you cannot, you must abandon the expectation of getting time from them. Your need for time is necessary; their obligation to give it is not.
My experience tells me that the person whose time I need always gives time according to their own rules. The first rule there is that they need at least one reason to give their time!
Five. Victory is beautiful when the victory is one's own! Victory propels forward!

Defeat is also beautiful when the defeat is another's! Defeat teaches!
Don't be angry at my words. Even the most perfect gentleman rejoices when his son beats another's child to come first in class!
Six. Time is such a strange magician! Even the most difficult attachments fade away. Intense love too exhausts itself and becomes a dry riverbed.
Five years from today, the person for whose sake your heart burned to ashes every moment, without whom living even a single moment seemed impossible—through time's revolution, you won't remember that very person even remotely.
Five years from today, the person without whom living seems utterly impossible right now—if that person's memory suddenly surfaces, you'll feel terribly irritated. This is a very simple truth that the mind refuses to accept before it happens.
Time dries up all our sorrows. Life indeed teaches us how to walk. Necessity somehow changes the names of our beloved ones. If you want to live, you must accept this change of names in life.
A person can live alone, can walk alone. Becoming alone is not called death, but new life. Life is not so fragile that its survival depends on someone's presence or absence.
Believe it or not, besides the life visible before your eyes, there are many other lives. It's not at all true that you cannot live in any of them. Each life has its own kind of beauty. How can you find another life without losing one?
Happiness dies by fate's turn,

Sorrow lives by fate's burden.
Wait. Time will tell everything. Have patience. Time will speak one day. The person whose neglect you're enduring today—one day you won't need to tolerate that person anymore. The one for whom you cry every day—one day someone else will take their place and make you laugh every day. That day you'll wonder in amazement: did I really do all this madness?
Wait, let them understand. People don't realize before they lose. Don't make your tears so worthless to someone who doesn't value your laughter. If they have no fear of losing you, keeping them in life will surely kill you!
Some cannot bear great happiness, so they drown themselves in small joys. Some cannot bear small happiness, so they float away in great joys. Change must be accepted. If one cannot accept it, then change must be endured. Beyond these two, there is no other path open except death.
Nothing in life is indispensable. No one's life stops for anyone else. There is no one in this world without whom life cannot go on. There is no one in this world with whom life cannot go on. The matter of staying alive is never dependent on specific reasons or particular persons.
This life of ours is a wonderful surprise-box! If one knows how to wait, life astonishes us in countless ways. Perhaps today's time is not yours. Give time to time. Time itself will bring you your time, right on time.
Time holds a cure for all sorrows, even for all joys.
Some are unhappy... because they have no happiness, some are unhappy... because they have happiness.
Reflection: Eight Hundred Forty-Nine

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When you are in a bad mood, when your heart is heavy, when you feel like screaming, when you want to curse terribly, when you want to scold and quarrel, you will call me and say whatever you wish. I will not ask you the reasons for all this, I will not say a single word, I will not ask a single question. I will love you tremendously, tremendously, tremendously.
I read your story from the day before yesterday. The Widow. I read it very carefully, twice. 'The piece is well-written.' This phrase becomes too small. Being a fool, I cannot praise anything appropriately and with proper analysis. But I feel a great urge to acknowledge something, and if I don't, my heart will ache.
I am tremendously fortunate that I can touch you, and in some blessed moments, I even get you close! All this compels me to wonder during my solitary times. I am truly grateful to God. However it happened, in whatever form of acquaintance, He has given you to me.
I don't know how long we will walk together, how many days we will stay with each other, how much I will understand you, how much you will understand me. I actually know nothing about all this. I only know that my countless non-possessions have grown dim in having you. Whatever I have received, however I have received it, perhaps I was not worthy of any of it. Now I am afraid to say that I love you...
It seems there is no one qualified in your friend list to properly evaluate your writings. I want to see who is on your friend list. I don't understand how people can remain unresponsive even after seeing so many good writings of yours. Though none of this matters to you. But I feel strange somehow... I want so much to live with you before dying!
You are extraordinary! You can create anything at any moment in any language. Sometimes very simply, sometimes with great complexity. After reading each of your pieces, I think for a long time—how was this possible? Many of your writings have brought many changes to my thoughts and thinking. You need to live healthily for many years, many years. On your journey, uproot everything that is bothersome. You must live only for yourself, for your creation.
Even if something about me seems irritating to you, speak directly—exclude me when necessary. Though it may hurt, I'll recover again. Let all your creation continue uninterrupted. I have no room of my own, but I need a room to read your writing. When I read your words, I must be alone in solitude.
Some of your writing makes my heart heavy. When writing leaves me melancholy, should I call it good, or say nothing at all—I can't understand this! But from childhood until now, my experience has been: if reading a writer's work leaves me sad, or if it makes me laugh out loud, then that writing seems very good indeed.
I want to paint you. But against your busyness, my brush has no value. So the good fortune of painting you has never been mine. Just for the greed of seeing you, I'm prepared to paint all day and night. Do you understand anything?
I feel so restless. Will you meet me once? Nothing feels good to me. I miss you so very very much, I feel like crying. I'm not asking to see you. My heart burns for you—perhaps that's what I want to say. I don't know what I'm trying to say... Ugh! You don't love me even a little—that's the source of all my restlessness! I feel like I'm eight years old and you're eighty!
I seem trapped in you for eternity! I miss my rushing time. I'll gather pain in my chest and keep it there in resentment, while you remain silent! Stay silent, completely silent! You don't need to say a single word! You're an idiot, you're an idiot, you're an idiot!
My God! Staying with you will drive me completely mad. Why can't you understand my state of mind? Are all your emotions only within writing or for writing? How strange! I love you, yet when I want to talk, when I miss you, should I go find someone else?
This way you sit nursing your hurt feelings—it frightens me, and... without you I have a strange loneliness, my emptiness, yet in waiting for you, an intense peace. Your voice, your face, your laughter touch the boundaries of my heart constantly!
Actually, what I want to say is: except for neglecting me, I'll accept everything in your life, just to love you. Last night when I found you online at two o'clock, something stirred strangely in my chest. I don't even know when I fell asleep crying.
**Thought: Eight Hundred Fifty

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I'm almost always afraid of you. Sometimes I even cry from fear! Don't get angry with me and write or say something harsh in irritation. I can't bear these things. I'm already under so much mental pressure. If you say or write such things, I become helpless.
You don't have to love me back—just remain somewhere distant as a shadow, just let me feel that someone exists whom I love. Become for me someone I need no qualifications to love, no proper reasons, no polishing of myself through the cultivation of physical beauty. I will love you exactly as I am, with all that I am. I am quite exhausted from constantly proving my worth to people. Let this unworthy person love you with deep tranquility—will you accept this?
Tell me, would it pain you if I died? Suppose I were to die within the next few days? If you keep doing such bewildering things all the time, then I... I'll wrap you in my arms and devour you completely! What's wrong? Are you frightened? There's nothing to fear. I don't devour people—I keep them for eating later! Ha ha ha...
Thank God for sending you to this world. Thank you for becoming the creator of so many things. Every day you break yourself apart and present yourself anew! I feel like worshipping your intellect, your thoughts and reflections. Perhaps one day you won't be here, but all your creations will be carried by generation after generation. You know, when I read your writing, I lose the courage to love you! You frighten me!
Did you laugh reading this much? You idiot, why did you laugh? After reading your writing, I'll never say anything again. Either I'll remain your reader, or I'll love you. Tell me, which do you want? If it's neither, then say so!
After reading your recent poem, many questions came to mind. I'm not writing the questions now, because first I need to know something. How much are you like your writing? After writing something, do you maintain any connection with it at all? If so, how much? That these subjects came to mind and you wrote them down—that's one thing. That you've internalized these matters and then written—that's another thing entirely. If it's written purely for the sake of poetry, then I'd say the poem has turned out timely. If you write for me and you've truly thought about these subjects, then I had some questions...
After writing the questions, write "I agree" below, because I'm guessing that's what's most likely to happen. In response to my words, you try to ignore me by writing "I agree" again and again. You prefer to keep yourself mysterious, you don't want to say anything directly, or perhaps you deliberately don't. Don't be annoyed with me. You fear me. Why must you hide yourself from everyone?
I'm not getting annoyed at all—nothing has happened worth getting annoyed about. I simply try to understand you. That's why I write this and that. You don't answer many things, you remain silent. I can't understand you either. My emotion toward you is entirely from the heart. So I keep trying to know you, to understand you. I know you might get irritated. But...
Those who make a fuss about family when it comes time to marry after falling in love—I feel a strong urge to ask them: where were their parents before they fell in love? Did they drop from the sky just before the romance began? Where does all this emotion for parents suddenly emerge from after falling in love? Of course there should be feeling for one's parents. But why doesn't it exist before falling in love? Why do they listen to everything the family says after love, but not before? Why don't they seek family permission before falling in love? The truth is, these people are cowards! They lack the courage to face reality, or they have no genuine intention of building a relationship. There's only one thing to be done with them—pack them off as parcels to the Amazon jungle!
I had many tasks today, and needed to finish them too. I've been running around all day, so I couldn't return to you. And yes, no matter what state I'm in, I miss you terribly. You have such a habit of easily avoiding so many things! This causes me great pain. I feel like not returning to you anymore. I'll ask a hundred questions, and you'll ignore them all, writing something of your own instead—and that too in just a word or two!
Will you come see me a little today? Don't be afraid, I won't come to you, won't embrace you. Even if I want to desperately, I won't touch you. I'll only look. If it's possible, if you can spare the time, come for just a little while. What if the country's situation gets much worse, what if there's no chance to leave home, what if I die, what if I never get the good fortune to see you again? Watching the news, I'm feeling all sorts of unsettled, somehow afraid too. Do come!
I'm not forcing you. Why would I force you? I've never once thought that I would force you into anything, and I won't do such things either. Why would I? What would come of forcing you? My relationship with you isn't one of coercion—I don't even claim such a right. My relationship with you is purely one of affection. However much love I have for you, I have even more tenderness. I can only request you. I was feeling this way, so I simply let you know, nothing more.
I truly am not forcing you. If wanting to see you counts as forcing, if you think of it that way, then I'll try never to say such things again. I'm really telling you, I'm never one to force anything. I don't like such things myself. Leave all this aside. Tell me, why is your heart troubled?
I know you won't answer. From now on, I'll love your creations more than I love you—it will hurt me less; that is, if I survive at all!
Thought: Eight Hundred and Fifty-One

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One. I tag Roupe-Roop in all my posts. Come, let's talk about Roupe-Roop today.
What is Roupe-Roop?
Bangladesh's largest online silver jewelry establishment. In terms of quality, collection, commitment, delivery and so forth, Roupe-Roop currently holds the top position in Bangladesh. Visit their page and look at the customer reviews—you'll truly be impressed!
Why do I promote Roupe-Roop?
The reason is simple: the shop belongs to my younger brother and his wife. If your own brother were in business, wouldn't you do the same? Most of our family's expenses are covered by Raupyarup's income. Most importantly, I am absolutely confident that you will be satisfied if you buy silver jewelry from Raupyarup. These days, many people are choosing sterling silver jewelry over diamond pieces. Both types look almost identical, but the price difference is staggering.
Why do I need to mention Raupyarup's name repeatedly?
What I mention or don't mention on my page wall is my decision, not yours. If you don't like it, simply unfollow my page—then you won't receive notifications anymore. I never write a single word about Raupyarup on your wall; you can be a hundred percent certain I never will.
Can any business page other than Raupyarup be promoted on my page?
No, never. Whatever promotion happens, I'll do it myself—you cannot promote anything. Why not? My page, my choice. Both owners of Raupyarup are members of my family. You are nobody to me.
Raupyarup's phone/WhatsApp number: +880 1705-234565. Call them for any needs.
Come, let us all stand by Raupyarup.
Two. I couldn't sleep a wink last night—your thoughts kept haunting me. Your face floated before my eyes. Not being able to come to you whenever I want! This limitation will gradually turn me into someone mentally disabled. Day by day, I'll understand more clearly that even though I love you deeply, I will never, under any circumstances, be in a position to do anything for you! I will always have to wait from afar for a small message or sometimes a phone call.
I'm going to download all your photos from your Facebook ID and completely ruin them by turning them upside down! I don't want to say this, but I have to—when the wait for your phone call grows long, I can't reach places where I'm supposed to be at specific times. Perhaps you tell me something and then forget, or get busy with other work. Meanwhile, I sit motionless with my mobile in hand.
Do you know why you can't understand my pain? Because you don't cause me pain. Yet I suffer because of you. You have not the slightest idea how deeply this pain wounds me! There's no need to ever talk to me. I'm not even asking you to talk. There's nothing to talk about anyway.
When I write and send you something like this, you remain silent because you don't like it. But do you have any idea that I wait for hours and hours for one phone call from you, feel dejected when I can't reach you, cry by myself, constantly suppress all my desires keeping your busy schedule in mind, and even when I want you close, I don't tell you out of fear?
If I hadn't met you, I would never have realized in my entire life that I could make such disgraceful complaints one after another! Standing before the mirror, I want to shout... ugh!
When you become so dejected, it hurts me. You just don't understand this! You know, your poetry is better than you are. I didn't realize this before. You are like some distant poem to me—I often feel I might lose you at any moment.
Though I know you have no interest in knowing anything about me, I'll tell you anyway — last night I was feeling feverish. I kept thinking, if only you would place your hand on my forehead, perhaps I'd feel better. I felt so terrible that I wanted to talk with you. Later I realized, I have no one anywhere with whom I can speak whenever my heart desires. You're such a brute! You're such an idiot! You're nothing to me! You can't understand that I'm suffering! Hold me close, please! I'm in such pain. Tell me what to do! Please, tell me.
Why did you come only to leave again? You don't understand me at all, you don't know how to love me. You could never be my love! I won't love you anymore. I won't love anyone.
I'll become very cruel, very wicked, I'll do whatever I please, all of you just leave my life. You all stay with your society's rules. Let me breathe a little... I want to live freely for just a brief moment, as I wish. Give me a little respite, just for a little while! I fall at your society's feet... you have no idea what situation I'm in. I don't feel like talking so much, it exhausts me. Truly! Forgive me.
I'm going to scream at the top of my lungs right now! Have you truly fallen in love with someone again?

Why don't you show me affection? If you keep acting like this, I'll start loving someone from whom I won't have to keep begging for tenderness! You're doing this now... when someone else shows me affection, then you'll suffer... just wait and see! You keep all your notions of 'right and wrong.' Keep your affections to yourself too.
My life isn't very happy. I'm often tormented by all sorts of pointless troubles! I'm deeply depressed. I'm not really the kind of person you can talk to every day. I'm different. I truly am like this. That's why since meeting you, I can't recognize myself anymore.

I don't know why I'm becoming like this! If you were in front of me right now, I would bite you, because I'm mad now! How strange! Why am I writing you so much? I was angry with you!... I'll write, I'll write a hundred times! I'll write as much as I want! What's it to you if I write?
Reflection: Eight Hundred Fifty-Two

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One. I send you a message and wait for your reply. It begins to feel as though all the waiting in the world exists for me alone! I try so hard not to behave wrongly toward you in the slightest. If I ever do, then I can't act naturally with you anymore — some hesitation creeps in! Never be angry with me. For no reason, for nothing do I hold any kind of anger toward you. For you I have only love and wounded pride allocated.
If we ever talk on the phone, when you're about to hang up, don't say "I'll call you in a bit," or "I'll call you tonight," or "I'll call you at some specific time." Instead, say, "Maybe we'll talk again sometime, if I'm free, or if I feel like it." You probably don't know that after those words—"in a bit," "tonight," or "at some other time"—all my other work becomes meaningless. What remains has only one name: waiting—waiting for a phone call! Neither do you understand anything about me, nor do I understand you. We say whatever comes to mind. I'm thinking I won't think about anything of yours anymore!
Don't speak to me harshly whenever you feel like it. How much do I really know about you that I would have sufficient understanding of when you're thinking what, or not thinking at all? I don't know you; I only feel you. Don't comment on my thoughts without understanding me, don't speak to me in harsh language. There are many people in this world to torment me. You don't need to join their ranks too. I love you. This is not a crime to me.
I don't give you anything with some ulterior motive. If I ever do, I'll tell you directly, face to face, or write it down. I want you to become greater than the sky itself. Whatever the circumstances, I will not dishonor you, neglect you, or diminish you—these things cannot happen through me in this lifetime. I hold my love in the highest regard.
Whom I love, whether they stay with me or not, however they behave toward me—when I love, I have nothing left to do but retreat with all my pain or wait somewhere distant, because I don't confront anyone with many complaints, I cannot ask for anything for myself. The Creator is my witness—there is no violence in me. Toward no one, toward no one!
I love the person I love the way one loves prayer. If ever in this world you have even one well-wisher remaining, I want to be that person.
You stay where you are—I have no objection. I don't need a well-wisher; I have many of those. You'll just be someone I love, and love deeply. Don't scold me, don't write any nonsense, which you do from time to time. Don't stay angry with me. What I've said, I've said truthfully. I think you just keep getting angry with me. Your deep, resonant voice makes me melancholy. Yes, it's true—there are many, many things to tell you, but they don't get said, maybe they never will. But then again, those things aren't particularly important either.
Those whom I love—I have little work beyond trying to keep them well, because I have no dreams of becoming something great. I just want to be well with the people I love, to keep them well. When these people are well, it means I'm well too. Let me tell you a secret. At night before sleeping, quite often, I write down all the reasons I feel hurt by you. When I write in my diary thinking of you, I catch your scent.
Perhaps it's not right to want to see you whenever I please, but I desperately want to see you! We should consider our respective positions and be more careful. But I do love you! How else does one love with anything less than this?
Two. I've decided that I will never again tell you about my circumstances or any kind of suffering of mine. This is a decision to stop my own foolishness and madness. Nothing more. I want to add something new alongside whatever old things there are—if you feel inclined to think about me, if you have the opportunity, then fine; if not, then not.
I generally don't remember people so much, not a single one beyond necessity! That's why there aren't many people in my thoughts. Even that small world has become smaller still, just because of you. Do you understand this? I forget people quickly, can't quite remember them. Though if need be, I seek them out—that's all there is to it! The root cause is that while running around, when I forget even myself, in such a state it's difficult to remember anything or anyone else, unless there's some real necessity.
But the urge to remember you is immense, the effort to never forget you is immense. Even if you want to forget, the need to not let you forget is immense. I will love you, forgetting all reasons and unreasons! Apart from you, I have no real obligation of the heart to remember anyone else. I have a tremendous desire to love you! I love you so very much!
You send me some songs from time to time. Tell me, are these songs your favorites? Or are they the favorites of the one you still love? Or favorites of both? If these songs are companions to your solitude, only then will I listen; otherwise I won't.
Give me all your flaws. Give me all your dislikes. Give me your irritations. Give me your loneliness. I will keep all these with tremendous care, carrying them on my head. I will love you so very, very much.
Everything I write to you comes from my heart. Yes, sometimes I feel hurt. I will never do anything that would cause you pain, I'm telling the truth. Don't write anything anywhere with distance in your mind, thinking of me. You carry great importance for me. If you do such things, I will truly fall far behind everything, mentally. Please, don't do this—let me stay with you.
I listen to the songs you send many times over; I love feeling you through them. Even the smallest matter concerning you is extraordinary to me. I'm running away from so many things just to stay close to you. I remain waiting for an embrace from you; when your busyness subsides and you have time, come to me.
Today, from tremendous hurt, I wrote in my diary for you that after today I will never again ask to see you. Even if I suffer greatly, I won't tell you—I won't say things like: meet me, I want to see you, and such...
I wait with great eagerness to read your writing. I read each piece with sincere care, reading them several times over. Even when I had never spoken with you, I used to read them. I'm always waiting for your new writing. I know you only through your writing!
But now I often feel hurt by you. I become very sad. How many times I've said it, in how many ways I've said it...I want to see you! You don't listen, you don't understand! When I'm in pain, what can I do? Yes, I can stay silent without telling you anything. That's what I've been thinking since yesterday—if you don't want to, I'll never again speak of meeting. Just from tension over you alone, I'll go mad!
When I speak and you say "no," it pains me constantly. So I won't say anything more to you, I'll write to myself when the ache becomes unbearable. But I won't say anything to you. All these complaints about not having you near, all this love of mine. All this that wants to say how cruel you are. I won't write anything tender to you anymore. You cannot understand my feelings.
If you ever feel I have betrayed your trust, tell me without hesitation. If your words are not false, I will truly leave. That day I won't ask for forgiveness—asking would seem shameless.
Reflection: Eight Hundred Fifty-Three

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One. Those who die—we don't think much about them afterward. That's reality. But those who remain around them, that's where attention turns. How will those the person cared for manage in their absence—that becomes the topic of discussion. These thoughts have been coming to mind for days. For no reason, yet they come.
In all your feelings, behavior, messages, you remain hard, cruel. From now on I'll follow your lead and try to become cruel myself. So that—I won't have to say that...I miss you! What else can I do, tell me? What should I do when my heart burns for you... Day by day I'm becoming like a bewildered child around you, and seeing my own transformation frightens me. Already I work all day dragging along my hurt feelings, and now this too!
I think about everything concerning you. If I have something to say about anything of yours, I say it. So much I say! From now on, about everything of yours, I'll try to stay silent. I feel strangely embarrassed with myself lately! Again and again I feel I'm speaking without understanding. Yet this much I know for certain: how much you're burning inside, I could never explain. I understand you. If I didn't, I'd be spared! Stop being so busy now, return to yourself a little, won't you?
Do you know what happens to me at night? I write what won't let me sleep if left unwritten. All day it felt like someone had pressed stones into my chest; I couldn't feel normal in any way. Just restless and aching terribly! And if you ever want to see me, don't stretch long hours of waiting in between. I become restless like a madman! It hurts me, it hurts me, it hurts me. How many more times must I say it before you understand my pain? If necessary, give me at least ten minutes. If you can't go anywhere, can't sit anywhere, come down to the bottom of your building for two minutes. I'll see you from afar and leave.
If you can't manage anything, stop me. Don't keep me in expectation like this and force me to waste away. Don't let me become sick bit by bit. Talk to me, make my heart feel better, or I won't be able to sleep. When you talk to me, where does your attention go—I can't understand. Why do you always speak so without tenderness? Must I quarrel with you for my entire life?
May I love you fearlessly, without hesitation—stay that natural with me. May I never feel I'm committing some wrong by loving you. Make it so easy for me to be with you—let there be a place with you for my sulks, my anger, so I can feel that I have someone with whom I can be completely myself. Let all my laughter and tears, my pain, my rage and sulks revolve around you. Before expressing all this to you, may I never have to wonder—would it be right to do this with you?
Let there be your anger around me too, your sulks, your pain—I want that so much. That you don't have these feelings, or if you do, you don't let me understand them—this hurts me deeply. It leaves me helpless...by giving some rights, taking some rights...become mine, let me stay by your side. I've never asked anyone for anything, I've never had to bow down anywhere, but let me have everything with you—let there be no winning or losing here.
Thinking of you, I don't even have time to look anywhere else! For the first time in life, nothing is going wrong in any task of mine! Every time, when talking with you, I feel—ah, after how many millions of years you've come! Does it happen to you too? I should have been born a boy, actually. Even falling so deeply in love, boys don't suffer this much, don't feel so restless. Though the way I'm experiencing this pain of mine, I'm enjoying feeling it this way.
Hey boy! Why don't you react with love to my texts? How can love fade so quickly? Does it cost a lot of money to give love signs! Well, why am I telling you all this? Oh right, I'm missing you, that's why! You fall asleep from exhaustion, and here, unable to sleep, I grow increasingly tired.
Two. My congratulations to those who passed the prelims today. Study very, very, very well for the written exam. Scoring high on the written is pretty much in your own hands! Work truly hard, but with understanding. Just working isn't enough—you must work intelligently. I'm waiting, we'll meet very soon! (Though it goes without saying, I'll still say it. During this time before the written exam, sleep only as little as absolutely necessary. You will definitely reap the rewards!)
For those who didn't make it through prelims today, you weren't meant to pass this prelim—you'll pass the next one. Even if you don't, nothing is lost. How so? I'm quoting verbatim from one of my writings. Read it, you'll find answers to some questions:
When something very bad happens to me, I try repeatedly to convince myself that something good must surely be waiting for me in the future. This keeps my mind somewhat at peace. What I couldn't achieve in my life despite trying, I've come to accept was simply not written in my destiny. There's a wonderfully beautiful saying in Hindi: "Waqt se pehle aur kismat se jyada kuch nahin milta." Its essence: before the right time arrives and beyond what is written in one's fate, nothing more can be gained in life. This is indeed true. Many people cannot accomplish things despite trying, perhaps because it's not in their destiny, or something better awaits them for which they must wait until a specific time. We don't get what we want. We get what we need. What we need and what we don't—understanding this is almost always impossible for us. So it's better to accept what happens and what doesn't.
(From 'When Life Becomes Living / Part Two')
Reflection: Eight Hundred and Fifty-Four

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I dream that someday I'll wake from sleep, turn to my side, and see you there! Damn this life! It never let me live for myself, not even for a day!
Two people under the same roof—one has a beautiful upbringing, a designated place for every whim and desire. The other has no one anywhere for even the smallest wish, and never did! What a strangely diverse world this is! With thousands of deprivations, hiding so many voids... someday I'll die. Those who live with me will never realize what my unfulfilled longings were!
I have a deep love affair with the clouds of melancholy, an intense romance, a wonderful friendship—they don't stray far from me. Nor can I exist without them. I am well with all my sorrows. There will be no story of life that I cannot tell you. In my attempt to keep standing while breaking apart, you will someday become my balance. This is called a 'dream.'
These days I listen very attentively to the song "Ek Pyaar Ka Nagma Hai." While listening, I feel you. I don't know why, but it brings tears! If ever it happens that due to my own inadequacy I can no longer continue with you, I will hold this song as my refuge. Such a gift has never come before. I have never felt anyone's sent song so deeply. Thank you, truly, for indulging my emotions.
Even if you're in relationships with many girls, sometimes remember me. Whatever state you're in when you touch me, that touch won't feel wrong to me. I'll rest my head on your chest with a smile. Keep some small tenderness from your vast world stored away for me. I want to scream now! Why are you so far away?
Tell me honestly, am I not bothering you? I'm always troubling you. From tomorrow, I'll try to gradually reduce my messages. Whatever you dislike about me, tell me directly. What I can do with you, what I cannot, what my limits are... if you explain these things to me in your own way, I'll truly understand. I'm not the type to create any kind of trouble or arguments. At most, I might sulk with you for some reason, nothing more than that.
I am deeply flawed as a human being, excelling in no field or subject, and could be called good in very few areas. Therefore, I try as much as possible to refrain from pointing out others' mistakes or blaming them, and I attempt to preserve our mutual relationships. This gives me considerable time, environment, and opportunity to improve myself.
I do have one good quality. In most cases, I can control my anger. When someone angers me or hurts me, I try to forgive them. To control my feelings of rage, I quickly face any available mirror, because I don't want to see myself looking terrible and ugly. This enables me to remain composed. Then I investigate the cause of my anger and try to understand why this situation arose. When something very bad happens to me, I repeatedly try to convince myself that something good awaits me in the future. This keeps my mind considerably peaceful.
Sometimes when I'm forced to do something unwillingly, I become furious with myself, but this rage finds no external expression. I take time for myself and try to understand why I was compelled! From then on, I try to avoid whatever forced me into that situation. This gives me the fragrance of freedom from being subservient to others. There is no other happiness in the world like being able to be free.
When I am deceived, when I am cheated, I feel foolish, I want to cry. I feel utterly helpless before myself, I am humiliated, I am forced to be patient. Time heals wounds. Then gradually I learn something new, I understand people anew. Then I know that sometimes being cheated is very necessary—for survival, for standing up again.
The most important thing in life is learning to love yourself. Ever since I learned to love myself, all other people have lost the power to overwhelm me with sorrow. And the person who once understands the joy of living freely knows how wonderfully life can be enjoyed. Nothing can be more beautiful than living freely according to one's own will.
How should a woman conduct herself? What she should wear, whom she should move with, whom she should sleep with—who are we to decide that? What you do, what you wear, where you go—does someone else decide that for you? Every creature on earth has the right to move freely. Neither you nor I have any right to interfere with that right.
I am not a successful person, I do nothing and have done nothing aimed at achieving success. I only try repeatedly to do my own work in the best way possible.
The greatest source of strength in my life is the blessing of my parents. They are a wondrous creation of the Creator. What a great fortune it is to have them in life and to be able to love them—this cannot be expressed in any language.
Sometimes one must take time from time itself to find oneself. Sometimes emptiness feels good, solitude feels good, silence feels good, quietude feels good, even the distance of beloved people feels good, fatigue and melancholy feel good too. In those times, I like myself much more. There is no better time than loving yourself in solitude. What could be more beautiful work than loving yourself? I love myself tremendously.
Every day I try to acquire the capacity to endure thousands of neglects—so that someday I might become worthy of someone who loves me.
As I write all this, I feel as though I'm holding you close, embracing you. Taking medicine to forget you, or perhaps thinking of you constantly—either way, I'll go mad someday.