Tag Archives: Arun

Celine brought bitter memories

22 Oct

I was finally about to drift off when I suddenly heard “The Power of Love” almost at a distance. As I came back to consciousness, the memories also came flooding back.

That night, I had laid on my bed, awake, anguished. For nearly 4 hours, before I managed to grab the smallest amount of sleep. I wanted to cry, but didn’t know what I was crying for. All I knew was that I was very very sad. Early next morning, Pankaj sent me a message, and as I was wide awake, I responded. He asked me why I was up that early, and I honestly responded that I hadn’t slept much. He asked if it was a “girl problem”, to which I somewhat lied with a “Sort of”. The conversation didn’t last much longer.
The subsequent days, Hagatha and many others saw me to be a complete wreck. Only, there was no one to talk to, because at that time, no one knew.

I thought that I had finally turned absolutely emotionless towards this song. But a year ago, my heart would fall when I heard it. That was because during a lengthy discussion with Arun, I tried to extract from his taste in music and all he could yield was “Celine Dion”, and after that, every song by Celine would bear great resemblance to me.

When he finally said goodbye and left, the songs became painful to hear, as those were a fragment of all I had left of him. Over the months, each time I was to hear that song, I would feel sick inside. When I heard it at night, lying on my single bed, I felt as if I was in a coffin and oxygen was becoming more and more scanty. The thought of him, in a city far far away… happy…. troubled me even more, as I twisted and turned in my grave, thinking of him.

And with time, it all went away and the song harboured no such significance anymore. When I mentioned Arun in casual conversation to Hagatha the other day, she said that I never really told her the details about that, but soon enough told me not to delve into them, lest I get upset. I told her I wouldn’t get upset, but I suppose she was simply not interested.

Tonight, I was drifting off when the song brought me rushing back. No, I did not feel claustrophobic. I did not feel the anguish. I only remembered what it had felt like once upon a time. A lesson that I didn’t really learn. An experience that I would want to remember forever. And I felt happy that it did not perturb me so vehemently anymore.

Arun, I hope you’re doing well. And after all this time, I haven’t forgotten you. I hope you haven’t forgotten me, too.

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For Arun – How and When?

27 Jul

Wrote this back in the day, several months ago. Don’t feel the same anymore, of course, but just thought I’d document it, as one of my writings.

How and When?

October/Novermber 2007

A cruel joke of god’s own will
Now I stand here, shattered still
Weeks have passed and months will too
I shall stay in wait for you

If I saw return of thee
Everything in the power of me
Within your will, I would do,
make me one of deserving few

Love and passion, do you hold still?
Channel them with words that fill
the hearts and minds of lonely men
Will I hear them? How and when?

I shiver, suffer, cry and cringe
You left me a broken hinge
Incapable of love and support
All that’s left, a shattered fort

All those loving words you said
Left me blusing crimson red
Reached my heart, touched my soul
Each one uttered took its toll

Now that you have gone afar
Can’t but wonder where you are
Shall we ever meet again?
Where and how? Tell me, when?

Thoughts of you, they flood my mind
Moment’s peace, I cannot find
Dreams I live throughout the day
If only I could find a way…

____

More proof that I’ve pretty much gotten over him. I recently lost all the Chat Transcripts that I had in a recent Hard-Drive format. I’m not that disturbed. Yes, I do wish I could have them, and all others, back…but I’m not fretting too much, it didn’t leave me depressed. So it’s all good.

I also discovered another letter I have lying. Will post that on another day.

Letters to Arun : 12th November 2007

23 Jul

Dear Arun,
Yes, I’m terribly and hopelessly obsessed. The thought occurred to me about half an hour ago, over lunch in the train. Each time I’m getting hopelessly drowned in thoughts of you, all I have to do is write to you.
The worst is that you may never get to read these letters. The best is that you may read them very soon or in front of me. Whatever may come of them, I cannot predict.

It’s been well over a month since you gave me that blow. The week that followed was torturous. The rest of the month has been eventful as hell. I don’t know where to begin telling you about it. Never mind. There may be lots of letters to be written so it’ll come when it is destined to.

So the thought of you makes me toss and turn, scream inside. It is torturous, no doubt. And it has gone on for too long. Today, it occurred to me that all would work out if I had a little bit of patience. That’s all I needed. And it struck me so. All that was required was bloody patience.
I repeated that word over and over about 15 times then. I thought I’d found the solution to my yearnings. But then again, I’ve thought that so many times. If murmuring that word over and over again could really help, I wouldn’t be writing this letter now, would I? And yet I am.
Well, this is just the beginning. The first letter. I don’t know what I’ll do with them. Maybe I’ll put them on an anonymous blog. I’ve always thought of having that sort of personal space. The thought is so inviting. I can jabber all I want with no threat to my Identity.. or at least I hope. I’ll be sure to conceal your identity and mine. Worry not, the promise is nearly intact. I say nearly because one can’t say, can one?
Well, I’ll stop writing the first letter here. Wouldn’t want everything in just one letter, would I? I guess I’ll write the second almost instantly.
Love,
Unsung Psalm

________________

Dear Arun,
Here it is. The second one, the authoring of which commenced within seconds of culminating its predecessor. Well, there’s so much to say. The thought of letter writing only JUST occurred to me. So natural instinct would be to pour my heart out. But why all in a single letter, eh?
There are many things I want to tell you about :-
1. What it is that obsesses me with you
2. Tete-a-tete with V and all the thoughts that surfed my mind then.
3. Celine
4. Being home, within driving distance of you and not being able to drive into your arms (metaphorical)
5. The journey home and departure.
6. Ruining academics
7. Hide and Seek of emotions -> almost out to friend
8. The pressing desire to reveal who I am
9. What disturbs me most about your commitment
10. The Songs
11. The worst fears

I’m sure there are many more. They’ll surface time and again. I hope to capture them before they are lost with the moment.
This letter ends here. I’ll start the next almost immediately yet again. Every story has to be divided into chapters, does it not?
Love,
Unsung Psalm

____________

Dear Arun,
Let’s start at the very beginning. Few recollections remain of that day. Was it past 11 on that night of July 26th, when the first message came along? I don’t know how or why I opened it. I never check that inbox. I suppose it was fate. Well, I was initiated that night. I learned that I, too, had ways to seek love. I know it isn’t the right manner, conventionally. But all that we do is unconventional, isn’t it? And being criminalised the way we are, what option are we left with anyhow? We made vague conversations that night. The vagueness declined slowly in the following days. But there was no attachments for as long as I was home. Only in the last few days of my stay did I feel the difference. I don’t recall if that feeling of doing something forbidden was felt by me. Whether or not I realised it, it was a big step. Nothing much has come of it. It’s been over 3 months. I know it isn’t much. But I lack patience so severely. 3 months are as bad to me as a year is to an ordinary person. And a year to me would be a lifetime. The restlessness is disturbing.
Coming back to that night, your message was so small and simple. I remember scarcely anything of what I wrote to you. But it soon moved to realtime. The record of our first few conversations are lost, I cannot imagine how. I really wish for them back. What’s left is all that I have to treasure, and treasure it with my heart, I do.
Ironical may it be, the first message you sent me came exactly a year after the first message I ever received in that inbox. The initial few I had never heeded to. To this, I paid surprising attention. It may come off the state of joblessness I was in those days. But WAS I glad.
We were very cautious that night, both of us. I didn’t tell you my name for quite some time. We exchanged our whereabouts within the first 2-3 conversations, though. How I regretted not being in the same institute as you. That was the second time I regretted my previous lack of desire_ towards my education. I could’ve been with you. We could’ve been together. Then again, if anything was different, there was every possibility of nothing elapsing between us ever. But oh well, I’d only think of the best (or should I say worst?), would I not?
I think we texted passionate messages in the first conversation. Maybe it was the second. Yes, possibly the second. HOW I wish I had the records, those were the most precious of all.
I remember going to bed a most extraordinarily happy person in that week. A little guilty, yes, but very happy. Like a caged bird just released into a beautiful world. That’s precisely what I was!
My memory is just my worst characteristic. I simply cannot remember details. But I do remember hunting for any online profile of yours. It was a heck of a hunt. Then you said you never maintained any. I don’t know how false or true that is, but my present conviction is that you wouldn’t lie. Oh Arun, How hateful of you!
I also remember confessing very casually about some of my embarrassing qualities. I felt strongly that you’d simply stop talking to me then and there. But you didn’t. You were understanding and considerate. It BLEW me away. Not very much then as now, though.
(Oh, I’ve filled pages and could go on. There’s so much to say. I’m wondering if I’ll run out first or the laptop battery!)
On one of the nights I remember I must’ve said something to the tone of never gathering the courage to meet someone I met online. You asked me if I’d never want to meet you. My response must’ve been mixed. A (large) part of me was afraid as hell, another was curious. Little did I know, I’d soon be dying to meet you and you would not be listening. There was no commitment towards seeing each other that night.
The second (or third?) night, conversation was going well. I suppose it was one of the moments which wasn’t so much of an “interview.” (Since then, I’ve realised and been told that I ask too many questions.. At times, it’s fun!)
And I arbitrarily in a non-committal tone said “Next time I come to Delhi, I want to meet you”. Your response was MOST unexpected. Something to the tone of how we’d established that we were just talking online and that it didn’t mean anything would materialise out of it since you’d had a bad experience of that sort before. For a moment, I thought you’d end conversations permanently then and there. I PANICKED! I said I was only joking and said it very casually and it didn’t mean anything. Or am I getting mixed up? I do remember conveying to you that meeting was not imperative but I did like the idea of the fact that our interactions weren’t going nowhere and even though we needn’t meet the next time, I would’ve appreciated the POSSIBILITY of our meeting SOMETIME and not closing that door altogether.
I was upset that night, so I said an early goodbye, quoting that I needed to think things over. You were understanding or else occupied with numerous other chats or something. The next evening, you said YOU were tired and needed to hit the sack and said an early goodbye. It wasn’t until the third day from then that we had a proper conversation again. Once again, I don’t remember much of it. WHY god WHY?

Update : Turns out I have most of them barring the very first. Not in a position to write more now. Will explain why later. Ciao!

____________
Okay, am back. Bathroom emergency on the train. Hate them!
Well, battery remains, thus I write more. Yes, I was very puzzled by your statements on not knowing what you want and that you were just looking for a chat. Awkwardly, you are in a relationship at present. Never quite told me about that, you didn’t. And it hurts a lot.
I sounded like an over-excited immature idiot in our first chats. It spoke nothing of the depth to my character, whatever amount there is of it. Presently, I yearn for a second chance. Maybe I’ll get one someday. It’s a pity I want it so much NOW this INSTANT.
PATIENCE!
*Deep breath*
Not helping. Oh, whatever!
There, I’m all emotional again. I feel very foolish though since you said so often that you weren’t looking for anything serious and I said “Yes, sure!” not knowing that that is exactly what I’d want with you in time. Over time, I grew attached.
You spoke so much of it. Going over our conversations, it comes back to me. I had forgotten you were so stern about it all along.
Who is it you are presently committed to so strongly? Is he one of those you had mentioned to me? Why didn’t you tell me you felt so strongly for one in particular? I really wish you hadn’t kept me in the dark all this while. I feel cheated. Because I asked you over and over again, and you said “No one special”.
And in our last conversations, you said that I was the only one that you were disturbed breaking all contact with and no one else really mattered but it sounds so much of a lie presently, after hearing from V, and I can’t even seek a re-conciliation on whether or not you meant it. Where are you, Arun? Are you well? Are you happy? Do you remember me ever? Do you remember me at all? Was I truly nothing to you?
Love,
Unsung Psalm

____________

Dear Arun,
I often wonder when it was that you went from a random acquaintence to one I felt so strongly for. Was it when you said you were to leave? Possible as it is, I’m sure it isn’t true. It was when I returned to college. I still strongly remember all the desperation to establish contact with you. I didn’t have a permanent connection and you were online when I wasn’t.
I remember one conversation in particular. I was feeling quite unwell, hadn’t eaten in a day. I mentioned it to you, hoping to evoke a little bit of sympathy, and you drowned me with pampering words. There came a time I said I had to leave and you asked me to stay a little longer since you hadn’t spoken to me since long. It was these little gestures that had me drowned. Neither of us realised it, but.
I recall that every second experience I had, I would say “I can’t wait to tell Arun about it.” It scarcely ever came to it, though, since I never got to meet Arun online.
One of the times I caught you again was on an afternoon that I had free. You dropped in a message in the inbox that I could see but not respond to because of my connection. And you sent in atleast 2-3 messages, asking me why I didn’t respond. But you didn’t log on to Y!M.
I remember running to my bicycle and cycling like wind towards the cafe, where I logged on and told you to log on to Y!M. A short conversation elapsed there. You had changed your ID, I wonder why!
Then I returned and we spoke again. Soon it went to Voice. It was supposed to be passionate. I was uncomfortable. Thinking back, I really truly wish I had another chance. I would sacrifice my comfort and make it worth your time. There really are so many things I wish I could do better. I wish I would have done sooner. But opportunity has passed.
Isn’t this one of the greatest ironies of life?
Love,
Unsung Psalm

Letters to Arun : 24th March, ’08

21 Jul

Written on 24-03-08
Hi again Arun,
It’s been ages, no doubt. Yet, I feel so foolish… Does it take this long and one still doesn’t recover?
It’s quite quite ironical really! Sometimes, I value myself so excessively and yet find it so hard to find love. Patience was never a virtue I possessed. Feel my life is finishing out before my eyes and all that I could ever want at the moment was you, and I cannot have you…
Where are you? How are you? Was it all a myth? Didn’t you ever care? I thought you’d write, sometime somewhere, somehow. Just to say Hi. How wrong I was.
I’m returning from Bombay, to college right now. Last time I wrote to you, I was returning from Delhi. Somehow, I always remember you strongly enough to want to write, when I’m moving away from you. Such as now. Bombay, of course, had an association with you. You grew up there. Every little thing reminds me of you really. Next time I go to that restaurant you went to that night, I’ll think of you. Or when I visit C’garh, I’ll remember that you came there with your friends (as V could recall… Or was it a lie you told him?)
Quite a bit has happened off-late. Under circumstances that couldn’t be helped, I came out to a very very close friend. She’s been an angel. Her words are very comforting, really. Of course, the friendship comes at a strange price, but it still feels amazing to have someone to talk to, to whatever extent I can. To be able to talk about you.
I’ve refrained from opening our chat transcripts for the longest time. I think I’m past that stage, mayn’t have to. But feel tempted to, nonetheless… Feel like making KT read them, but they got a bit explicit, no?
I wonder if you’re still seeing that guy. If you weren’t, would you get in touch with me? Or was I just a very random affair? Were there so many lies?
Or are you still going out with him? Those long endless talks that you spoke of that made me burn. Of course, to say nothing of the love-making. He was 23 too! Everything I want, really, with the exception of you…I’d sacrifice so much for you. Just for your friendship, really. Or if nothing more, an acquaintence. I never go to know you. I mayn’t even like you so much as a person, but I’d still want a chance to get to know you. A chance you never gave me. Had I asked for too much?

Will stop writing now. Don’t know why I’m opening these wounds and suffering that pain again. Should’ve just distracted myself with Desperate Housewives.
Love,
Unsung