Love and Hate
Winter is my favourite, though I don’t want
it. And finally, it’s here. All the
girls are covered in colourful sweaters, jackets and dresses; guys are in full
sleeve leatherette brown or black jackets; whitish fogs are smothering the sleepy
walkers, who’re still walking dead from forced wake-up; shopkeepers sip hot
fuming tea while gazing lazily from their empty counters. But most of all, the
air. Chilled, piercing and fresh from
last night’s mist. My face tissues gradually adopt with cold. I rub my palms
and then press against cheeks, like my mother used to do when I shivered after
having a cold bath in morning in school days.
Again I’ve been transferred. Now far from my
place. Again I’m standing in corner of a metro coach for hours with a book in
my hand and music on ears. My foamed jacket brushes with others. My eyes meet
with others for a second. They greet in silence. Sometime a twitching smile on lips, sometime
nothing. Total blankness. Someone’s smartphone plays a recent movie. I peek into,
and then gleam if its watched already. There’s a weird satisfaction that I know
the story already. I know that the boy
will die. I grin. And then look back to the pages.
“Are you happy with your recent posting”,
everybody asks. I don’t know my answer. It’s ancient betrayal of heart and
logic. I’m used to it. I love winter. But also I hate it. It’s depressing. Even
trees shed their leaves and mourn at this time. It reminds me of death. Another
example is my love-life. I love Taniya. I long her touch every freaking time.
And at the same time, I hate her for transforming me so weak. I’m so passive
now. It’s her plan. A meticulous devious plan to enslave me. And the plan is so
intelligent that I have no idea when I started falling for the plan. Now I
don’t want to get out.
Am I happy for posting? Err..ya. Maybe not. I
try to pretend, though it’s not easy to pretend. Specially when I don’t know
what to pretend for. Should I care the questioners? Should I tell truth? And
then even if I want, there’s no straight answer. But everybody wants a clear
yes or no, like Arnub Goswami. But I have nothing.
Love and hate walk side by side. Like the
sunlight and pale fog this morning. Like Taniya and me over phone and
face-to-face. Like the hours I spend in metro, reading books, watching people
and then in office, being ordered, being bullied.
So, I try to read face. The faint twitching, little
wrinkles, tiny smile or obvious pitiness hanging around lips. All. And then I
answer.
Yes, I’m happy.
Nope, I’m not.
(Pic @ the hindu)
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