Hounded at every end. People are civil only so long as you are of use to them, or less they toss you away. I feel tautly stretched, and I see no way this is ever going to change. Everything, work, life outside seems to be part of walking the same tightrope. Say a word out of line, and people scream. If you are thinking according to the way someone else thinks, they are willing to hear you out. Otherwise, you are just an irrational lout, and what you speak is nonsense. Even with your own people, you are constantly proving a point. Taking a stand. You cannot just talk.
I barely feel human. And very alone.

Can I say I am tired? He did not call, and I don't feel so well, and no one will be bothered how this edition is doing. An sms helps, you know. I am tired, just tired.

Ooo hoo, I know now that I have visitors, mane just a wee few, one of whom I know is D.sir. Who are the rest, apart from Oli? Delurk, delurk, mes amis

Achha, I was reading this blog of a junior of mine, and I want to clarify: haleem at Aliyah is NOT like sexual satisfaction, it's miserable. Haleem is palatable only when A's baba cooks it. Neither is it great when you eat it from the stalls outside Statesman House. You merely keep feeling suspicious what it is you are sending down your gullet, and the meat is not good.

And this, also from her blog:
"In college they're playing a corridor cricket series. And I wake up dreaming of jstor. Disconcerting, that."
It's something that someone who has not been to JU will not know. As I will not know of the peculiar spots of closeness that other people have with other places they love, centres of learning, to be specific. That renders it plebeian, but it's not the point really. It's so about memeories: roddur on the balcony, and chilly, dry empty afternoons when one was at a loose end.
Y'know like that song by the Chandrani woman in Krosswindz: Oi dokkhin khola janlay. And the melody is kind of let loose somewhere in the middle of the song, and it rises to the sky where it goes wherever you might want to take it.
It's something the boy wouldn't know, something Oli knows and values exactly like I do, if not more. A yearns for it, perhaps, but she wouldn't change things, C is in a hurry to move on from there. And yeah, after a little more'n a year of work, I wish I woke up dreaming of Jstor too, as corridor cricket seen from outside the classroom.
The dear dear place, how nothing can duplicate what you left behind. It's like leaving your mum.

We had lunch at Sabir today, the boy and I. And as happens so often these days, it remains inexplicable how it turned out so good, how suddenly it all became so pleasant. The light flavour of the firni, my happiness over his liking the mutton, his undivertable love for chicken bharta. And I suspect we both enjoy good meals. That he likes the taste of boiled meat, and I like it grilled, with the woodsmoke lending to the taste. And how it was like we had been living this way for years, as we walked back. I suddenly found I was walking with my hands together behind me, and he was quietly talking, and I could anticipate the pauses. And I wished bye bye, and left.
The silence.

Somebody exclaimed 'uff! angst mama!'
I think my last post wanted that, if it deserved being called a post. Hee hee, I had a good day. I habe done a lotof organisational work tooday. Hooh, my coolth, level-headedness, my thanda mathay kaaj kora...kya kehne! All thanks to a certain boy who refuses to lose his temper. Maybe now that I've said it, we will have unforeseen trouble.
You do know that a colleague is leaving and we have a supplement hanging for which there is NO matter?
I slept at 6 in the morning yesterday after two hours of watching X Files.
I can't think of profound things to say.
Well, there's Kali pujo tomorrow, and humongous sized idols are being carted all around the city.
I see them when I come home every night.
Everybody was buying lights today, and baji. I wanted to buy lights, but well, it'll all be gone tomorrow, and I haven't bought anything.

My life seems to be falling apart. Things seem to be going out of control, as I control less and less of how I want things to be. It's an indulgence, giving in to this feeling, but I just wish now, at well, 1:15 tonight, that certain things had never happened. And yet, that it did, was perhaps better. It's out of my system, hopefully.
And work, I, well, I don't know what will happen. It's like the old 'when rape is inevitable, lie back and enjoy.' I can't be bothered to get up and let myself not be raped, 'cause I don't know what to do, where to go.
Oh dear God, I feel so tired. I feel so tired. I just want to get away from all this, get away. Not wake up again for a long time with a tired mind, and a tired body, to drag myself to another whirligig of confusion again. To wake up to peaceful work. But then again you have to make peace and all that, so...tired.

Park Circus. On new camera. You are not to try using it without my permission. Presuming you make the mistake of wanting to in the first place.

It's really late at night. and writing does give me a high, but i am scared i will soon discover i haven't enough information.
It's about half an hour later, and my brain seems to be shutting down. Anyway, what with the bandh and an early pick up and all, I didn't get much of a chance to make the much-looked forward to daily morning visit to the loo. So stomach sheitao janan dichhe. It would be such a comfort to be back in my room, and going into the bathroom now. Still an hour to go before I reach. Atleast Potato Man won't be there in my car, which is a real, tangiblr relief.
Come to think, amar ato night hochhe, I could make up for a day missed with a few night allowances. What a life.
I am tired.

Everything is now beginning to seem the same. Am I merely being lazy?

I am writing a horrible story, with which I shall succeed in embarrassing several near and dear ones.