'britwa' means gun

Well, I have forgotten what I had meant to write about. So that's how it should be. But one thing that I wanted to mention and remember, I have taken the link of this thing outta orkut. So mercifully, I can stop being absurdly significatory about everybody, call a spade a spade and rest in peace. No imaginory marauders to come here off orkut.
I was thinking about N.ji actually. He lost his wife exactly a month after baba at Vellore. Dadiji had phoned and told me. I was so shocked. That was a strangely (that's just a word) intimate time to know their family. I was grateful for any understanding, and dadiji seemed to know it all. She was so kind to me, me the 22 year old that was leaving that place a waif for life. I touched her feet before I left. I don't touch feet usually. I am so glad you cared. I have not looked for you later, you are my closer tie than N.ji, though his loss was greater, and so I am in touch with him now and all that. He is may be about 4/5 years older than me and he's lost his wife and has a tiny kid whose future he worries about. What does a man do when that happens. I don't know. My loss (it drops quite easily off my tongue now. Perhaps it's the time that's passed, more, it's the job. There's no subtelety here. Everything is either in your face or not there), weel it seems smaller compared to his. When you've made a shelter to last your life in, and then everything goes haywire. It's not smaller, I know.
I was with my pal today. It felt so nice so nice. It's this feeling that goes under your skin, and you feel oooo! so cool. But then I knew that would happen. She makes my world work, I see her and can get things in perspective. Y'know, what happiness I want, the infiniteness of possibilities. I am reading Gabriel's Gift by Hanif Kereishi (C likes the name. Me too). Gabriel reminds me of her. Who are just born sensitive, who knows at 15 that he would like his dad to be around when he is old. I was always so terrified he would'nt be. I always thought I was insecure and so... But may be I would not have lost him if I hadn't been so afraid. I was watching Surya Shikar (the Utpal Dutt play) the other day, and I thought of baba. In the scenes where the character is writhing in pain under torture. And I couldn't bear it, my beautiful baba, he fell so many times, this was like all those other times, he was so prone to falling, and this was just like that. Not only because he had gotten weak, hadn't had any solid food that day because of that bloody bloody test he had had to undergo, clean bowels they wanted for that. So make a sick man guzzle purgative liquids the whole day till he is fit to burst. make him visit the toilet numerous times, when it's so tiresome for him. It's with time that these form from images in your head and come tumbling out. And if You are reading, don't talk about the medical/humanitarian rights and wrongs of it. I don't whisper it to myself ever. I look at my friend's dad. It's illogical but I keep thinking that he came back and he didn't. Like I couldn't bring him back. People blame me. I blame me. There was this popcorn Backstreet Boys song one of whose lines went, "How I wish I could turn back time...", it was called Quit Playing Games with my Heart. I can't wish that. Wish that and ask for what in return? Is there a God? There must be. It is, in my head. And who is there, in this tangible, palpable world? He is only in my head, I was so scared to lose him. I am still so scared, even now when one of the biggest fears has been terminated. I think I LOOK scared all the time. Where did it all begin? Where every smile became overshadowed with this musty quilty kind of thing? I wish things were whole again. The patches just seem to go on appearing. Patchwork quilt.