In between eggnogs.

I write as Brandon today, Brandon Sullivan. I write about what happened when after I met that woman on the metro, passing through 28th Street.

I have had a problem of failing to get intimate with people. As far as you remember me, I live for fleeting encounters, brief meetings, and I stress the importance of timely departure. But you know something, I was always waiting for something to happen. Much like Alain Leroy who couldn't stem the fire within.

I am glad I met Alain before he read Rigaut and pulled the trigger. Alain told me certain things which made me stop and take stock of things.

Alain was trying to avoid the responsibility of adulthood.
You used to say, "Its hard to be a man. You have to want it."
I found him obscure them. I was surrounded by stereotypes of masculinity, in every direction i stared. Maybe he meant man in the sense of the elder state of a child?

Alain was a victim of his habits. He never could stick to anything for long. Which is why him talking about masculinity seemed unprecedented. He used to speak my mind's words, "Women still find  me fun and nice. But thats not enough. I have no hold over them. And yet it is through women, I have felt some hold on life."

These words, this realization will haunt me through my life. It is an acceptance of the fact that not just through women, I have felt some hold on life, only in relationships. I tried to run away and take care of myself. I still can, I am self sufficient. But I dont just live for material satisfactions. I wish I was not this weak now and the cognac is still not having its effect.

But which relationships are the ones which have made me feel a bit in control of life, have lent otherwise routine things a sense of purpose? I dont think I'd be able to select them out.

This is about the bravest person I've ever met.

I call her that because she is not cynical, unlike the rest of brave people I have known. And yet, I can't accuse her of having loose morals or none of it. She is a religious person. She belongs to a family which knows how to live passionately, which believes in the value of sticking together despite realizing the futility of it. Sticking together can be fatal, if we dont respect the people who dont leave us, who remain by our side. She has doubts whether she'll stick around if she finds an opening out of the cyclical violence she witnesses everyday. Somethings have a future, they need to be provided for, sometimes from a distance.

My friend loved Alain. Alain, who left back a note saying-

I am killing myself because you didn't love me, because I didnt love you. Because our bonds were loose. I am killing myself to tighten them, to leave you with an indelible stain."

One and a Half Years

In the year 2011, I shifted to Delhi for starting a new phase in my life. Unconsciously, I was celebrating the centennial anniversary of the shift of Capital from Calcutta to Delhi. This post is being written as I soar through the smog enveloping Northern India at 6am on 5th January, 2012

[Aside]

a) In Delhi, I stay quite close to the site of the historic Kingsway Camp. Its still an unique canvas of the multiethnic fabric of India, with students and immigrant labourers and wild animals coexisting in harmony.

b) GoldFlake Exotic Orientals, part of their Centenniel Series, has just been launched in New Delhi. Its good value for money, specially on late night walks with friends, down the historical pathways of  Purani Delhi. However, couple it with a 15 rupees matka phirni,easily available opposite Gate One of Masjid-i Jahān-Numā. You'll suddenly feel thankful about life and whatever little joy you've found in it.

My third semester exams were an experiment in higher academics. I forfeited the hope of scoring well and studied bits and pieces of most syllabi texts. In the end, I found some good essays to take back-

a) A.N. Kaul's Theory of the Critical Romance by Tapan Basu
b) David S. Reynolds' Walt Whitman and Politics:Leaves of Grass
c) Terry Eagleton's The Rise of English
d) Ranciere's Poltics of Aesthetics: The Distribution of the Sensible
e) Modernity and The Men of 1914 by Peter Nicholls

But all these essays were read when owls are preternaturally active and not having slept for 4 days, I almost passed out on my flight back to my Lazarus Pits.

[Aside]

Lazarus Pits were accidentally discovered by Ra's al Ghul in an effort to cure a dying prince of the sultan he worked for. Ra's al Ghul dug a pit where he discovered the restorative chemical pools that he dubbed Lazarus Pits for their abilities to heal those at death's door.

I dont quite like Nolan's interpretation of the Pits. I rather liked the tubs of healing fluids shown in the 2008 Angelina Jolie starrer Wanted.

In these 18 months, my relationship with the city has undergone transformations which I could never predicted at any point of my life. From getting awed in the presence of the cosmopolitan culture of Delhi to realizing that its not very much unlike the City of Joy to appreciating the subtle shades of either city, its been quite a refreshing mental and physical exercise. I used to consider my experience of any city being a composite of two things-the people I meet there and the artistic wealth or challenge it offers my sensibilities. The experiences are now being governed by a more robust vision. Something like this song-

Dekhechho ki take
Oi neel nodir dhare
Brishti paaye paaye
Tar ki jaano ki naam
Jole bheja mathe
Akashe haath baraye
Megher arale bheshe thaka
Shei rongdhonu ke chay

Have you seen the one 
Who tiptoes through the rain
Along the banks of the blue river
(What's her name, again?)
Through the wet fields
And reaches out to the grey skies
Where she searches for the rainbow
Hiding behind the clouds

The song makes so much sense as the Spicejet pierces through clouds, in the direction of the rising sun. And who would have thought that the otherwise routine experience of 2 hour and 10 mins will be punctuated with a nice up-the-river aerial experience of romancing the City of Joy. So this blog was born when the Pilot announced a detour owing to some ruddering problem and the plane gradually started tracing the path of river hooghly and we witnessed a city generally seen in maps.



I have read in novels how the existence of a river through the heart of Delhi and Kolkata, influences much of the culture on both banks of it. I have never understood its emotional purport though. Today's little detour, aerially nonetheless, put things in perspective. I fell in love with the way the snaking water body made sense of the spectacles of uneven development. I was amused by my distance away from the city, in the same way I flirted with Delhi from the eyes of a perpetual tourist.

 In those little houses down there,
my friend sits staring out of her window
Her text on post modern critical theory
Gathers dust or flutters in response
To a chilly December gale.

She wonders when I will announce my arrival
Or maybe, its just my delusion.
She is probably thinking about what to eat next
Or how to push her mother off an imaginary cliff.

Hello Nirvana. Meet Samsara.

When Celine Dion sang," Its all coming back to me now," she meant two things. In context of the whole song, it means the sensual memory of the estranged lover. Out of context, it means, what you do, so shall you reap. Not necessarily from the same person or group of people. Human nature pays you back in your own coin. I am making an organic thing out of human nature.

Your curse still reigns supreme.

Now my foresight comes back to haunt my foreskin.