(by alok nandan, dedicated to a Nightingale)
29 September
A group of dreaded criminals came to me today. They wanted to join a political party.They were in search of a suitable political party. They were asking for my suggestion. I was confused what to suggest them what to suggest them. One of them said, ''It would be better to enter into a national Hindu Party that had demolished a religious construction. All of them went to the office of that political party, I was among them. When we reached at the office, the state president of the party was sitting there with his followers. He asked them to sit and then started delivering a lecture about Mother Indian. He said Indian is our mother and we have to respect our mother. When I asked, ''Why India is mother, why it is not father.'' He looked to me angrily and again said, ''You all are youth so you must know how to love your motherland.'' I again asked, ''Why Indian is motherland? Why it not a fatherland? You know Germany is fatherland. I just want to understand the concept of Motherland, would you help in this regard? '' He felt some uneasiness and after taking a deep breath he said, ''At first you know the long deep routed culture of India. It is the British who told it India, its ancient name was Bharat. Bharat was a famous king of this land, so this country is called Bharat. We should love and respect our history.''
''If Bharat was king, it should have been fatherland, because he was a king, he was a man. Why it is a Motherland? ''
He lost his temper and said, ''You have come here to join our political party or just asking the nonsense questions? Youth like you is destroying our best culture. It can be tolerated.''
''If we are not satisfied with your answers, how can we follow you?,' he said. All the group members enjoying this very much. One of them told him not worry about my words. They were going to join this political party. The president warned me last time, ''You are not fit for any political party. All political parties demand loyalty, and you have no loyalty.'' All of them joined the political party but I was thrown away. And I was very happy not to be a part of the follower of motherland. Land is land. If you plough it, it will give you crop, no matter it is motherland or fatherland.
30 September
Today I went to the red hair boy's house. He lives besides the river of Ganges. When I entered into his room, I saw there countless books and two photos of Goddess Swarswati, the Goddess of art and culture.
He told me the stories of these two photos. According to him, one was his beloved and the other was goddess. He regarded both the images in different ways. Whenever he felt strong desire to meet a woman, he would talk to one image. He would not only talk to it but he would kiss the image passionately. And at the same time he would worship the second image of Goddess Swarswati. His fantasy attracted me a lot. He told me about his Mumbai's life and also about his village life. Whatever he said, he would say clear vision. He would speak English with unique Indian accent. Now he was reading Segmund Freud and explained Freud according his won way. After spending my intense time with him, I came to the conclusion, ''he has learnt more from the real life than the books.''
1 October
The winter has started. I have to buy shoes and warm clothes. I have been just using a slipper for last one year. I have to close the window of Omen as winter is very terrible here. I have a coat, a black coat. My father would use it when he was young. For last five winters I have been using this coat. I love this old coat very much. It has torn, but still I love to wear it. I always remember my father as a stylish man. I have been using his wrist watch for last eight years.
2 October
It is the birth day of the nation of father. It is said that he was a man of truth. Prayers are being done all around the city but I am not fascinated with these prayers. These are just routine works. I am sitting in my Omen and reading ''Maila Annchal'' (Dirty upper clothes) by Renu. In this book, Renu has depicted a small town society and the effect of the nation of father over this society. The nation of father had started it experimental movements form this place. Very keenly Renu has depicted the rise of socialism in this area. He has also explained about the Mutths (religious gangs) and its lives, how devdashi (the woman servant of God) is exploited by the leaders of the Mutths. It is horrible! Really it is horrible. On the name of God woman are being converted into prostitute for a long time. Shame! Shame!! Shame!!! I cannot say that Indian is a great country. Female children are sexually exploited on the name of God, even today, in Indian. Where are those persons who write and sing heroic deeds of Indian? They should go to the Mutth and watch those budding girls who are being used as kept by the leaders of Mutth. The nation of Father! You wanted to convert the heat of man through the pure means but you had forgotten that by nature man is an animal. Indian needs the rule of Hamburabbi, ''eyes for eyes.''
3 October
A young leftist leader has been killed in a remote area of the state but its effects could be seen in the city. He was a charismatic leader.He was the student of Jwahar Lal Neharu University and was very much active in students politics. Latter he turned back to his village and started fighting against the local criminals. He had been warned many times but did not care about it. And he was killed. A special program was organized against the killing in our Journalism Institute. When I went there, a young professor warned me not to say a single word here. I sat there for a little while and came out. I saw the yelled eyed girl, coming to me.
''I am looking for you for a long time. I was thinking to come to your Omen,'' she said to me.
''I was little busy with my work. Why you are looking for me?'' I asked.
''You are my friend, so I am worried for you, what are you doing here?''
''Nothing,'' said I.
''I want to see your Omen.''
''Now?''
''Yes, now.''
''But is far from here.''
''So what? Let us come.''
I did not protest but just followed her instruction. After half an hour we came to my Omen, My lovely Omen.
''In fact I wanted to talk to you. Let me have a glass of water,'' she said and looked around.
I gave her some water from the clay-made pot. She laughed and drank the water.
''You know, whenever I enter into you Omen I feel it is the most beautiful place I have ever seen. I love your living style, '' She said, taking down the glass. Her shot hairs were touching her shoulder and her lower joint teeth were pleasant to see. When she laughed, her beautifully constructed joint teeth would shine like purls. They were as white as swan.
''Today you write me a love letter to me,'' She commanded me.
''Love letter! But you are in my Omen. I can talk to you directly,'' I was little surprised to listen her command.
''I say, you must write a love letter to me, '' she emphasized, sitting on my bed.
''You have gone mad! Why do I write a love letter to you, while you are sitting before me?''
''Because I want it. Would you not like to please me? I will read it before you and it will be a great fun.''
''You are crazy! I have never written a love letter.''
''So what! Do it for me,'' she said and pick some paper and a pen and gave them to me.
''Ok, if you are serious, I will try. But do not you think you are compelling me to do a funny thing? ''I said, trying my level best to understand the language of her yellow eyes.
First time in my life I was writing a love letter.
My sweet heart
xyz
You are sitting before me and I am writing a love letter to you. I do not think that such types of love letters would have been ever written in the history of love affairs. I have read all the love letters that had been written by Nepolian Bonapart to Josephine. But I am sure What I am going to write will be more interesting and passionate than the Bonapart's letters. Let me tell you, I love you from the bottom of my heart, I want to sink deep in your heart. And I want to tell you very frankly I do not know how to swim in the ocean of love. But do not worry if I die, I will think it is my fate. I will never blame you. Now dear darling I cannot write more words.
In fact you are hell to me. Have you ever seen your face in a mirror, you look like a horrible lady ghost. Now you are sitting before me and compelling me to write a love letter. Better you try your luck somewhere. Dear darling if you really love me, you must arrange the round face girl's mother for me. I always like elder woman. Now you go to hell. I am fade up with this letter. But again I want to tell you that I love you very much.
Yours and only yours
abc
''I have finished the letter,'' I said with a smile.
''Have you not written more? Ok, do not worry, let me see it,'' she said and took the letter from my hand. She was very happy to read the first paragraph but the color of her face started changing. She became furious and attacked on me. I was trying to protect myself. She did not stop and went ahead. I pulled down on the bed and hold her both hands tightly. She was under my both thighs, and both of us could feel each-other warm breaths. Gradually she became cool and murmured, ''If you were meet me earlier!''
I entered my fingers in her short hair and started kissing her both lips. I felt that my blood was moving fast to my head. She was hissing badly. All of sudden the portrait of Adolf Hitler fell down from the straw made wall. I looked to the falling Hitler and stood up, leaving her on the bed. I picked up the portrait murmured, ''Hitler! you do not like this act.''
''What happened?,'' she asked, she was still laying on the bed.
''I think it is enough for today,''
''I hate you, do you know?''
''But I love you,'' I said and started cleaning the portrait.
''One day Hitler will make your life hell,'' she warned me.
''I would love that hell.''
''You know….you know….oh! I cannot tell you.''
''What? ''
''You go to hell,'' she was furious.
''Sorry my love! I am really very sorry''
''Oh why do not you understand? …''
''What?''
''My marriage has been fixed…and ….''
''and what? ''
''……………''
''And What?''
''And I want your child,'' she said and started weeping bitterly.
I looked to her face, and came to her.
''I really love you, but is not fair. You were cheating me, you know?''
''I am a woman, if I wish you child, what is wrong in it?''
''But how will you face your husband? ''
''I wont tell him anything. I have not seen him. It is just an arrange marriage…My parents have fixed this marriage, I am just obeying my parents. But I cannot suppress my own desire, and why should I do it. I just want a child from you,'' She said in a sinking voice. I took her face in my hands and said politely, '' Let me think over it deeply. I respect you, and your desire, but let me think over you. Just control yourself. I will talk to you latter.''
''You are so gentle, I love you, now I am going,'' she said and turned to the door.
''You are forgetting something,'' I said and she turned to me.
''What?''
''This love letter,'' I showed the love letter.
When she came to me and I hold her in my arms and kissed her passionately.
''Now leave me. Take care,'' she took the letter and went away.
I looked to the portrait of Hilter and said, '' Thanks.''
Note : I am constantly struggle hard to read out more and more pages of the diary. Wait for more.
29 September
A group of dreaded criminals came to me today. They wanted to join a political party.They were in search of a suitable political party. They were asking for my suggestion. I was confused what to suggest them what to suggest them. One of them said, ''It would be better to enter into a national Hindu Party that had demolished a religious construction. All of them went to the office of that political party, I was among them. When we reached at the office, the state president of the party was sitting there with his followers. He asked them to sit and then started delivering a lecture about Mother Indian. He said Indian is our mother and we have to respect our mother. When I asked, ''Why India is mother, why it is not father.'' He looked to me angrily and again said, ''You all are youth so you must know how to love your motherland.'' I again asked, ''Why Indian is motherland? Why it not a fatherland? You know Germany is fatherland. I just want to understand the concept of Motherland, would you help in this regard? '' He felt some uneasiness and after taking a deep breath he said, ''At first you know the long deep routed culture of India. It is the British who told it India, its ancient name was Bharat. Bharat was a famous king of this land, so this country is called Bharat. We should love and respect our history.''
''If Bharat was king, it should have been fatherland, because he was a king, he was a man. Why it is a Motherland? ''
He lost his temper and said, ''You have come here to join our political party or just asking the nonsense questions? Youth like you is destroying our best culture. It can be tolerated.''
''If we are not satisfied with your answers, how can we follow you?,' he said. All the group members enjoying this very much. One of them told him not worry about my words. They were going to join this political party. The president warned me last time, ''You are not fit for any political party. All political parties demand loyalty, and you have no loyalty.'' All of them joined the political party but I was thrown away. And I was very happy not to be a part of the follower of motherland. Land is land. If you plough it, it will give you crop, no matter it is motherland or fatherland.
30 September
Today I went to the red hair boy's house. He lives besides the river of Ganges. When I entered into his room, I saw there countless books and two photos of Goddess Swarswati, the Goddess of art and culture.
He told me the stories of these two photos. According to him, one was his beloved and the other was goddess. He regarded both the images in different ways. Whenever he felt strong desire to meet a woman, he would talk to one image. He would not only talk to it but he would kiss the image passionately. And at the same time he would worship the second image of Goddess Swarswati. His fantasy attracted me a lot. He told me about his Mumbai's life and also about his village life. Whatever he said, he would say clear vision. He would speak English with unique Indian accent. Now he was reading Segmund Freud and explained Freud according his won way. After spending my intense time with him, I came to the conclusion, ''he has learnt more from the real life than the books.''
1 October
The winter has started. I have to buy shoes and warm clothes. I have been just using a slipper for last one year. I have to close the window of Omen as winter is very terrible here. I have a coat, a black coat. My father would use it when he was young. For last five winters I have been using this coat. I love this old coat very much. It has torn, but still I love to wear it. I always remember my father as a stylish man. I have been using his wrist watch for last eight years.
2 October
It is the birth day of the nation of father. It is said that he was a man of truth. Prayers are being done all around the city but I am not fascinated with these prayers. These are just routine works. I am sitting in my Omen and reading ''Maila Annchal'' (Dirty upper clothes) by Renu. In this book, Renu has depicted a small town society and the effect of the nation of father over this society. The nation of father had started it experimental movements form this place. Very keenly Renu has depicted the rise of socialism in this area. He has also explained about the Mutths (religious gangs) and its lives, how devdashi (the woman servant of God) is exploited by the leaders of the Mutths. It is horrible! Really it is horrible. On the name of God woman are being converted into prostitute for a long time. Shame! Shame!! Shame!!! I cannot say that Indian is a great country. Female children are sexually exploited on the name of God, even today, in Indian. Where are those persons who write and sing heroic deeds of Indian? They should go to the Mutth and watch those budding girls who are being used as kept by the leaders of Mutth. The nation of Father! You wanted to convert the heat of man through the pure means but you had forgotten that by nature man is an animal. Indian needs the rule of Hamburabbi, ''eyes for eyes.''
3 October
A young leftist leader has been killed in a remote area of the state but its effects could be seen in the city. He was a charismatic leader.He was the student of Jwahar Lal Neharu University and was very much active in students politics. Latter he turned back to his village and started fighting against the local criminals. He had been warned many times but did not care about it. And he was killed. A special program was organized against the killing in our Journalism Institute. When I went there, a young professor warned me not to say a single word here. I sat there for a little while and came out. I saw the yelled eyed girl, coming to me.
''I am looking for you for a long time. I was thinking to come to your Omen,'' she said to me.
''I was little busy with my work. Why you are looking for me?'' I asked.
''You are my friend, so I am worried for you, what are you doing here?''
''Nothing,'' said I.
''I want to see your Omen.''
''Now?''
''Yes, now.''
''But is far from here.''
''So what? Let us come.''
I did not protest but just followed her instruction. After half an hour we came to my Omen, My lovely Omen.
''In fact I wanted to talk to you. Let me have a glass of water,'' she said and looked around.
I gave her some water from the clay-made pot. She laughed and drank the water.
''You know, whenever I enter into you Omen I feel it is the most beautiful place I have ever seen. I love your living style, '' She said, taking down the glass. Her shot hairs were touching her shoulder and her lower joint teeth were pleasant to see. When she laughed, her beautifully constructed joint teeth would shine like purls. They were as white as swan.
''Today you write me a love letter to me,'' She commanded me.
''Love letter! But you are in my Omen. I can talk to you directly,'' I was little surprised to listen her command.
''I say, you must write a love letter to me, '' she emphasized, sitting on my bed.
''You have gone mad! Why do I write a love letter to you, while you are sitting before me?''
''Because I want it. Would you not like to please me? I will read it before you and it will be a great fun.''
''You are crazy! I have never written a love letter.''
''So what! Do it for me,'' she said and pick some paper and a pen and gave them to me.
''Ok, if you are serious, I will try. But do not you think you are compelling me to do a funny thing? ''I said, trying my level best to understand the language of her yellow eyes.
First time in my life I was writing a love letter.
My sweet heart
xyz
You are sitting before me and I am writing a love letter to you. I do not think that such types of love letters would have been ever written in the history of love affairs. I have read all the love letters that had been written by Nepolian Bonapart to Josephine. But I am sure What I am going to write will be more interesting and passionate than the Bonapart's letters. Let me tell you, I love you from the bottom of my heart, I want to sink deep in your heart. And I want to tell you very frankly I do not know how to swim in the ocean of love. But do not worry if I die, I will think it is my fate. I will never blame you. Now dear darling I cannot write more words.
In fact you are hell to me. Have you ever seen your face in a mirror, you look like a horrible lady ghost. Now you are sitting before me and compelling me to write a love letter. Better you try your luck somewhere. Dear darling if you really love me, you must arrange the round face girl's mother for me. I always like elder woman. Now you go to hell. I am fade up with this letter. But again I want to tell you that I love you very much.
Yours and only yours
abc
''I have finished the letter,'' I said with a smile.
''Have you not written more? Ok, do not worry, let me see it,'' she said and took the letter from my hand. She was very happy to read the first paragraph but the color of her face started changing. She became furious and attacked on me. I was trying to protect myself. She did not stop and went ahead. I pulled down on the bed and hold her both hands tightly. She was under my both thighs, and both of us could feel each-other warm breaths. Gradually she became cool and murmured, ''If you were meet me earlier!''
I entered my fingers in her short hair and started kissing her both lips. I felt that my blood was moving fast to my head. She was hissing badly. All of sudden the portrait of Adolf Hitler fell down from the straw made wall. I looked to the falling Hitler and stood up, leaving her on the bed. I picked up the portrait murmured, ''Hitler! you do not like this act.''
''What happened?,'' she asked, she was still laying on the bed.
''I think it is enough for today,''
''I hate you, do you know?''
''But I love you,'' I said and started cleaning the portrait.
''One day Hitler will make your life hell,'' she warned me.
''I would love that hell.''
''You know….you know….oh! I cannot tell you.''
''What? ''
''You go to hell,'' she was furious.
''Sorry my love! I am really very sorry''
''Oh why do not you understand? …''
''What?''
''My marriage has been fixed…and ….''
''and what? ''
''……………''
''And What?''
''And I want your child,'' she said and started weeping bitterly.
I looked to her face, and came to her.
''I really love you, but is not fair. You were cheating me, you know?''
''I am a woman, if I wish you child, what is wrong in it?''
''But how will you face your husband? ''
''I wont tell him anything. I have not seen him. It is just an arrange marriage…My parents have fixed this marriage, I am just obeying my parents. But I cannot suppress my own desire, and why should I do it. I just want a child from you,'' She said in a sinking voice. I took her face in my hands and said politely, '' Let me think over it deeply. I respect you, and your desire, but let me think over you. Just control yourself. I will talk to you latter.''
''You are so gentle, I love you, now I am going,'' she said and turned to the door.
''You are forgetting something,'' I said and she turned to me.
''What?''
''This love letter,'' I showed the love letter.
When she came to me and I hold her in my arms and kissed her passionately.
''Now leave me. Take care,'' she took the letter and went away.
I looked to the portrait of Hilter and said, '' Thanks.''
Note : I am constantly struggle hard to read out more and more pages of the diary. Wait for more.
5 comments:
Hello. This post is likeable, and your blog is very interesting, congratulations :-). I will add in my blogroll =). If possible gives a last there on my blog, it is about the OLED, I hope you enjoy. The address is http://oled-brasil.blogspot.com. A hug.
I'm not the first to comment today! You see I am not your only fan. I think these letters should continue. There is something remarkably moving about them. Don't quit...your passion speaks to me and will to other people as well. It is a window into a life quite close to the source of existence. You are a bit of a tyrant with these women, but they seem to like it. You must deliver your cruelty with sugar.
Lara
Inspiring Lara! it is you, yes it is you who are pushing me deep into my own mind. You know! I always dwells in my memeory world...all the characters are alie there...What I am doing I do not know...but just I am trying my level best to explore my mind...You just recall how this diary started and today i have finished my 20 part...Really it is a tremendous work....But I have not seen your lettest painting..it is not good...What you said..both will enjoy each-other work...You are enjoing my diary...where is my enjoyment....I want your next painting very soon...
Alok nandan
Dear Oled, I tried to see your blog but I could not get me....thak you very much for your interest...I will try tomorrow to see your blog...Would you mind to say something about yourself...A lot of pages of this torn diary are to written...I hope you will enjoy it....Again thanks for your words
regards alok nandan
oled! pl send your blog link to my e mail alok.nandan72@gmail.com
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