Sunday, November 30, 2008

The aftermath

I can't deal with it, I want to forget this happened. I now know why people move on, why people become so indifferent. I got home after a marathon drinking session (even for me) and well my Mom starts talking about what the newspapers have been talking about. I have't even sat and read today's newspapers. I am sick of it. I want to treat it as a bad memory and READ MY LIPS HERE- I WANT TO FORGET.

These bastards come here and fuck with my city. Does it make it right for me to forget? I want to do things that make me forget this shit ever happened. Get hammered, smoke some weed, have sex and listen to music. It helps I think. Or maybe it doesn't. It probably brings this ghastly reality much more closer than I would like for it to be.

I shed a few tears this morning as I sat on my living room sofa staring into that nothingness which seems part of me. I feel numb. My friend said to us last night, 'I could have at Leopold's' & we made so much fun of him. I think it was our way of coping and realizing thank God he wasn't.

Moving on is not an option. I must stop, stare this moment in its face, fight with the demons that arise and then only will I be free. Or will I?

Saturday, November 29, 2008

The Before and After

The Before and After, originally uploaded by Shane2D.

He was trying very hard to keep his distance. She would not let him go, her finger nails digging into his back. He pushed her away & sat at the edge of the bed. She waited for a minute, pursing her lips and sat up, the sheet falling off her body. She put on his tee shirt, it still smelt of him.

He didn't say a word - just sat and stared into nothingness. She expected the usual tantrums and empty words. She wanted him to hurl them at her so she could feel his pain and remain indifferent. He felt her need coming off in waves but didn't feel as consumed as before to repeat the routine.

Her sigh rented the air. She walked off to the kitchen to get herself a glass of water. She stood there, her bare feet digging into the stone cold floor. He sat on the bed and waited for words that would never come.

The love died a very long time back. All that was left was the bleak emptiness of sex and the aftermath reeked of despair and pain.

Friday, November 28, 2008

Once Was Bombay

Black, originally uploaded by *Glauka.

I am angry and pissed off. I feel the futility and helplessness of it all. What is the f***ing point I want to scream at these people? How dare they come to my city and make it burn? Who are they - these people, who feel that they can enter, rape my city and die for some unknown (and I don't give a shit about it to be honest) cause...

I finished reading 'Once Was Bombay' by Pinki Virani for the 2nd time in the book's lifespan and fell in love with my city all over again. She brings my city to life through her interactions with its politicians, people and Bollywood of course.

She names Vijay Salaskar and there is one chapter on the underworld talking about him. I read about this man and how his wife prays for his safe return. Well now, there will not be a safe return for her husband except for his dead, cold body. Her children will not have a father anymore.

How does killing innocent people justify anything? Does the terrorist check if the person is Hindu/Muslim/white/black or f***ing blue before killing? I don't think the person is even a human being, just a target that is in the way of this f***ing cause.

I am blabbering now...but I am so upset about city is not a battleground. Go fight battles where they need to be fought, should be fought. The Oberoi and the Taj are not battlegrounds and in my lifetime, I hope never to see a repeat of this.

I told my sister earlier, my generation didn't see the kind of violence hers does. There is too much of this senseless shit going on. I have become indifferent to it. This time, the famed Mumbai spirit is broken without a doubt and its going to take awhile for it stand and there is no doubt about that - it will stand, it will rise and it will crush anything that chooses to destroy it.

A friend put it quite succinctly - 'to think all we want to do is live a peaceful life, fall in love, have a few drinks, attend a few plays & bitch about work'. Not too much to ask for no?