If I decided to react to all the shit around me, I would hold my head and scream, scream, scream. For the tiredness, for the burning eyes, for the dreams that faded into nothingness, for the things that don't work at work, for ma being unable to think anymore, for the many illnesses that she is plagued with that I can't seem to get under control, what with the medicines, doctors, tests, medicines medicines. Do you know how much I am waiting for you to arrive? Do you know how scared I was to find myself so helpless at the crowded crossing today, when that guy followed and came and stood close to me? I knew then I couldn't do anything if he picked me up and took me off somewhere. How humiliating it was to go away with the autowallah because he offered me a way out when I wouldn't have been able to control the situation. Why my friend of 10 years does not understand this, is it because she lives such a sheltered life that she has forgotten what it is to live like ordinary people? That the happiest part of my day was to find the black pups, who jumped and licked my hands and played with each other ceaselessly, and looking at the fish in the aquarium at the hospital, when they came and crowded around where I was standing, and I fancy, looked at me curiously, that it is escape from the chaos.
Do you know I dreamt on Sunday, in the afternoon, of baba, already in the grip of his last illness, feebly tapping on a giant touchphone, clothes hanging loosely on him. Still, I was glad I had him, though I was scared. What kind of stupid person doesn't get alarm bells ringing in his head when half his muscles atrophy away in the space of six months? That was in the afternoon. At night, I dreamt Floppy came back, through this tiny wire opening in a gate. But it was another dog, brown and black, and was immediately attacked by another random brown dog we had and had a bit of flesh plucked away, but even so, I was glad that she was finally alive. I remember feeling reluctant at the prospect of more responsibility, but also of being accepting of it. God certainly knew what he was doing when he took her away, I smile grimly to myself, but also this: that if we had her, we would have found a way of managing everything. But then, I would probably not have paid attention to ma much if all else were hunky dory.

The days are leaving me progressively lonelier.

I feel very tired.
I feel like shit.
I don't want to have to play God.
I wish I had worked, but know I would not have.
I feel old and worn out. 2012 seems like a fool's dream, 2013 the year when the fantasy fell away, 2014 will be the year of my growing up. I finally feel like the adult that I always wondered if I would ever be, and it is a trajectory of loss and responsibility that has no end. Today I found the tired part of me wishing I were dead, so that this burden will not have to be carried anymore. It is a long-term fear, and living through days and years as one by one the machine develops faults, and you do the best you can to repair it and help it to carry on. It brings out ugly sides of you, as you grow cruel and more intolerant: I find myself wondering if this is what made my aunt the way she is and sympathising with her at times.
I don't feel light anymore. I don't even want to run away. I live in this constant state: this stasis, which comprises sadness over all I lost last year and the things that I am losing over ma, work which is a familiar territory even when it's bad, and hence good, occasional outings with occasional friends that I am glad for because it's a break, and guilt and sadness over stray dogs that I don't/ can't help. That's another reason why I want to die: then I won't have to see dogs and cats in pain anymore. And did I tell you about the dog on the way home to Labour Chowk? I wish some part of me had died that day.
The body also makes it known that it won't take such otyachaar anymore. The terrible nerve/ bone pain in lower back, shoulders hurting from the laptop bag at the end of a work day, being unable to manage on 5 hours' sleep, carrying a heavy bajarer bag home necessitating a long nap in the evening and tiredness which still doesn't go away.
Ei holo jibon. Dekhte dekhte koyekta decades kete jaabey, chhibrey hoye jabo, tarpor morar pala, and associated bhoy ar koshto. Bhogoban, jeno beshidin baachtey na hoy. Ma ke tuley diye, ar kata bochhor beche without too much pain chole jetey chai. Of course assuming kono loved ones thakbe na to live for. Thakle, I need the normal span of years and to be resigned to the loss of physical and mental acuities and drawn-out, lingering, painful life.

On a positive note, I found a flat. Hopefully, it will stay and I can move in in March. Ma's USG report has to be collected, something which completely slipped my mind after going to sleep at 6 am.

Totally inappropriate in the middle of all the shit that's happening, I am wishing for sex. Totally wishful thinking, of course. To lie relaxedly in the company of someone you've known for ages and are comfortable with, who knows and understands the shit happening in your life. Anyway, this is all totally criminal thought.
Ma's eye, USG, and her two regular doctors, along with looking for a place. These are my primary concerns along with work. I woke up from an evening nap today dreaming, a. that a random, very peaceable junior from college was mocking and berating my work, b. that I was indulging a few fantasies in this very swank five-star hotel-type apartment with wooden everything and a lot of gadgets. Woke up very worried and feeling like shit about work not done.
I am very worried about her eye problem. If there is a god, I pray that I take the right decision, and that things go well and her vision improves. But then, there rarely is a god, is there? There wouldn't be so much suffering otherwise. This former classmate of mine wrote that we are all mere stories gone wrong. That makes so much sense.