Remembering all the things my Best Friend has never ever done for me

I thought I would do this post simply because I never realized all this before this birthday of mine. Usually on my birthdays I sit and write a letter to my best friend. This year I wrote down my realizations about what the relationship has been like.

There is this incredible connection that is there. Distance, and marriage and children and none of the life events had altered that connection. In many vital ways , me and my friend we define each other, and are a comfort for each others world-weary spirits or so I had thought and felt from what we shared till 2010.

We would both grieve in the event one of us is left to face the others death and life would be different with one of us gone forever. Parts of us would die with the friend forever as each hold some things about our personalities that make up for the good parts of our selves, parts of our selves that we have come to appreciate and respect and cherish, without these parts of our thoughts and experiences, we are rendered just mundane and ordinary, but with that part we are special, stand out from the rest of the people around us.

The past two days I had been poring over all the letters we have exchanged in the course of the fifteen years of knowing each other, and this is what I discovered.

Am sure better people find better things to do – am me, I did what I wanted to do and felt like doing.

In random order then,

  1. My BFF never ever sent me a birthday card – not even once in fifteen years
  2. My BFF never called or wished me on my birthday not even once in fifteen years
  3. Never sent me a Diwali card – or wished me – in fifteen years not even once
  4. Never wished me or sent a card for Christmas – not even once in fifteen years
  5. Never called me on any of the festive days, to wish me or just share a moment together – ever, not even once in fifteen years
  6. Was never there for me on the “eventful” days, like when my father passed away. There never has been a condolence message or a phone call to console or just support or to make me feel good.
  7. My BFF never wrote to me because I wanted ir or needed it but only when they had the time to do so.
  8. My BFF never once called or sent a card or a letter saying “I wanted to share this with you, you know?”
  9. Never ever spent a dime on any kind of a present or whatsoever, never a book, or just some music or some knickknack or a blanket or a scarf
  10. I heard I am the godmother to their first born but never heard the voice of my godson that I kept sending stuff to, ever once in five years since he was born and now he can actually write. I remember our families made us write thank you and loving notes to please grandma and relations that sent us love from the time we were two years old. Later, when we were admitted to school and could hold a pencil, we would draw these terrible pictures and say “thith is mamoy” they would elaborately write that message down on that piece of paper sometimes they were just the back of cardboard boxes in which toys came in and sent them to relatives and it always made everyone so happy, we know because we got lotsa hugs when we met.
  11. There never has been a “just wanted to see what you were up to” calls, even though my best friend could afford the call.
  12. Never acknowledged gifts I sent to the friend, or the spouse or the children
  13. Never ever was there for me – no indeed, my best friend has never exactly been the proverbial friend in need at all
  14. There has three assault attempts on me in my own house, the third time was in 2014, and I had been scared and traumatized, and they never even called.
  15. “Don’t make me come and get you.” – yeah but when that was really required, they were not there to come and get the friend in real danger and genuine distress because they did not think it was a distress I could not sort out by myself.

Well, generally speaking, even though I always lived my life and have taken risks thinking I had a best friend to rely on if anything went wrong, it took me forty eight years of my stupid life to realize I never really ever had any “best friends” to speak of.

The time when my train was 24 hours late and I was stranded in a crowded station all alone, with my luggage or the time when I lost my job, or the time when I got hurt, really hurt – and was in tremendous pain, inside my head, unable to walk, talk, leave my bed, or think straight, or the time when people forced entry into my apartment in the middle of a cold December night, dragged me out downstairs, beat me up, then threw a shawl over my head and tried to stifle me dead for good measure with my mother just standing there and staring away doing nothing to either save me or stop them, or when I was faced with the trauma of being forced to come home and live with those very people that had done that to me, or the time when those people attacked me again and tried to force their way in into my apartment another night in summer last year, no – none of these times was my best friend there, either at the end of phone line or physically there.

Nothing that ever happened in our collective lives ever was good enough or important enough for my best friend to either invite me over to their place or actually come on over to mine.

My life has spiralled, had started spiralling downward, dissolution, deaths, dangerous encounters, distress, trauma, accidents, mishaps, loss, pain, since we met and became friends. My ‘best friend’s’ life was spiralling upwards, with marriage, children, new home, expanding business.

So, the thing is you have to be walking in the same direction and in the same path to be friends with people. Two people walking in two different directions perhaps cannot be friends unless both keep up the good work.

It does take some work to remain friends.

During my darkest hour of need for human support and connection, total strangers came forward to help, with care packages, mail, books, music, and shuttles and thread, well some sort of way to reach out. Some even called long distance from overseas, even if they could not afford such a long call just to comfort me and I have not been able to do much for them yet, except sporadically to send out some little tokens of gratitude. But someday I hope I get a chance to return their kindness not that one can do that of course bit just to put my mind at ease. But the thing is, when I needed my friend the most – my best friends were not just there.

Sometimes I would save for months together to be able to send my god child or my friend something for Christmas because I like these traditions and they make life beautiful and interesting this act of giving. My best friend has never given till it hurt, or ever known what it is to have to do such a thing. My best friend has never really felt the need to reach out in meaningful ways except to send in an email over free mail system when it suited them, when they had the time for it.

I have been a best friend to my best friend, I have taken a day off from work so I could go post their mail on time. Have stayed up late at night, taken time off from work, did what I had to, when I felt I needed to sit and be with my best friend or rejoice with them.

But I do think, tonight, as I sit here on the verge of another new useless meaning less addition of more time to a life that really has meant nothing to anyone or for anything, it is better to have lived like that violet in the forest where no one ever visits than to not have lived at all.

Well, it is not really, but that is what they expect you to say, and that is what they like to think, that is what they delude themselves into thinking is ‘normal’ and ‘healthy’ way to deal with out various little jail-cell existence.

I know I had written about the concept of “Ichhyamrityu” or auto destruct among the Hindus of India, once pointing out the outdatedness of the IPC 309 of the IPC. and since then, others have written about it, and I saw this about the Modi government having abolished the section and decriminalized attempts to self-destruct, but the implications are not very clear yet.

The thing is, people should be allowed real freedoms like the kind recorded in Hindu legends. When you know your work is done, you are no longer being useful in anyway that pleases you, you should be able to set yourself free from the shackles of routines and mundane existence and leave with dignity and not continue to exert upon the already limited resources of the world around you. You should have the choice to do so. choose the moment and nature or manner of your own goodbye to the world.

But then people that frame laws or run a country can be control-freaks of epic proportions and basically lack insight or courage to let people be the way nature had intended them to be. So there is a catch in that.

And so, there is just this mindless rolling on, on the wings of the fancy – knot upon knot, knot upon knot, rings, chains, flowers, and curves, shapes and sunlight playing through the mesh of my thoughts, soft threads cascading over the still firm skin of my olive hands (feeling warm) and flowing endlessly through my pensive fingers shuttling on…

On a personal note, my dear best friend that never was, to whoever or whatever is telling you your friend is trying to exploit you or use you to get out of a difficult and unhealthy environment for a little relief, let em know you have never actually given her anything much, she never ever expected nor asked for anything ever except that one time she really truly genuinely needed help, had reached out. In her darkest, most terrible time of need you not only abandoned her but had actually emailed that she should help herself. If we are going to help ourselves we should be by ourselves, live in the jungle. This is not going away ever. On my birthday, I wanted to remember this because this is Christmas, and it means something to me, it means we be there for those who need it the most and I had needed it badly when I had called out for help, Grinch had needed Christmas but Cindy Lou wasn’t there to make it happen.


Living in Fear and Anxiety in the New India

This is a record of life as it is lived by an ordinary citizen of the new India. For whoever researches the life conditions of this country from the perspective of a single woman struggling to stay alive, protect and keep what is her own, and live with dignity. This is a first hand account from the citizen’s perspective, and the life lived would reflect the exact nature of social infra structure, the law and order situation, the politics of the country and the general condition of the community of a metro city in India under the current government in the State.

This post was brought about by the fact that, yesterday on my birthday, the bell rang in the quiet December evening when I was making tea for me and mother. All the other apartments around ours were empty and locked up as the inmates were out holidaying. I looked out the keyhole and could not see who it was, so I opened the door, saw that it was the woman from downstairs who had manhandled me in 2005, and had tried to strangle me by wrapping a thick shawl over my head. I tried to close the door without speaking to her. I had not invited her, spoken to her, we can have no business with her, and yet there she was at our door. Trouble started when I did not let her enter. She pushed against the door hard when she realized I was closing it making me struggle and go numb. I managed to force the door closed but before I could put the bolt on she put her whole weight against the door, simultaneously banging loudly and terribly on out door almost breaking it down. I realized she was trying to force her way in. I knew I had to call someone, I was afraid the way she was banging and pushing against the door it would cave in, and in fact some panels came loose, I called the police, but they were late in responding, by the time someone picked up the woman had retreated.


I told the policeman who picked up the phone but did not mention which police station I was calling, they never ever identify themselves, India does not teach its govt servants telephone etiquette especially in the service industry like in the Police. Anyways, they did not come but advised me to go report the incident to an address he mentioned – so am supposed to go there today. But as I do not wish to go alone, it will not be done I guess.


So that is when I realized in my moment of panic, that my best friend was not there to call. Sometimes it is great help if you attend the phone and just be with a person on the phone, telling them what to do and in fact you become witness to what is going on.


The greatest danger to any man in any community is threat to their life and property. I want this on record that ever since my father passed away in 2005, I have been living under both of these threats. Till the time the property issue is resolved and I can geographically move away, it would continue to be a threat and one fine day when they have a chance they would simply murder me, quietly and no one would even know. They would create some story to cover it up. My mother being abnormal, she is no help or support.


One way I figured after some thought to be safe to some extent is to work for really famous people. Then you are secure to some extent and people think twice about messing with you.


The original deeds of the property was taken away by the developer and was never returned to us. This was not an outright sale, according to the agreement it was a power of attorney given to build but not to dispose of the building as they saw fit. But they are collecting money, without registering as a society, for over ten years now, without creating a bank account for it, without filing for audit reports and sharing it with the inmates that they are collecting money from, the developer still occupies the building and uses it commercially, without our prior permission.


They recently took down our letter box, without intimating us, by letter or in any other manner. They changed the numbers of our apartments, on their own, without again informing or consent or intimating us. Our apartments are billed as Flat numbers 1C, 4C, but they changed that to 2A, and 5A! Just imagine in my own house, people come change the number of my own apartment, and actually tear down our letter box, (they did not even tell us where they kept the box, we had our lock on it, there might be mail inside the box!) put up new ones, extort money for that from you even though there is a building fund for it, or supposed to be, they tried to attack me when I refused to pay saying that they did not ask me if I needed a new one or they should take it out of the building fund, that is another time that man who had been with this woman trying to stangle me, there had been two people, the family of this man and the woman, came and I was alone in the house at that time).


This is India and life under the very able leadership of Ms Mamata Banerjee. I had originally thought that since they say she studied law and paints and writes poetry, and is a woman, atleast women’s lot would improve, on the contrary they are maintaining goons in their ranks so they can target the lives and property of helpless people and that is how they fund their party activities. This woman did not buy an apartment, she cannot afford to buy an apartment in such buildings. They cost hundred of thousand, even I cannot. Neither did that man – that man was brought here to live as caretaker originally when my father was alive. The woman was in the employ of an ex commissioner – she was paid to look after the old man. When he died, she took over the flat with the help of the local party.


So now my woes continue and it is traumatic to have to see her name inthe letter box in the same line as ours, the original owners of the land, and to have to live in the same building in such close proximity with a person that tried to murder you and constantly threatens and abuses and insults you is killing me everyday and soon I shall not be able to talk about this anymore because am growing numb with pain fear and anxiety.


I am unable to get out of the house because am depressed and am unable to leave the house for my job because they come and work on mother when am not in the house. Once when I arrived from Gujarat early mroning, I rang the bell, knocked on the door, banged loudly, the whole building heard me and yet the woman we are supposed to call ‘mtoher’ did not open up. I suspect this woman was sleeping in.


Their game is, they target a house in the nbeighbourhood that ha old people in it and there is some sort of dispute within the family and then they try to get friendly with that old person doing little odd jobs for them, little errands and get entry into the house, and try to take over.


Had the CPM governemt been in power this never would have happened. She would have had to leave, vacate the place soon as her employer died. And his next of kin would have taken over or it would have reverted to us the owners to compensate for the violations in our agreement the developer has made. and as owners we should be enjoying a separate exit and entry to the building not her.


Well, on my forty eight birthday, I realized that even though I had spoken about the dangers of my life to my best friend, he pretended not to understand or know. This needs to be recorded as the friends of that woman Mr Arun D (he was a local municipality worker, a party worker, the developer had used at some point, supposedly was my father’s friend and the first person I had called that fateful night for help) prevented me from making an FIR on that night saving her the first time and he is the one that used to visit her all the time and call her a “niece”.

He is an upper caste Bengali Hindu man with wife and children, she is a lower caste Nepali woman who never really had a husband, but at various points you could see men coming and spending the night at in her one room apartment (they did not have a curtain for a long time and the door is right in front of the lift, so anyone getting in or out of it can look in). He had said, to me that night, you know the only eye witness is your mother and if she does not corroborate your story you would be in trouble. Giving her a hint to be quiet about the incident. Manipulating my mother, an eye witness of the incident and suppressing it.

The woman was alone at first. In ten years I never saw a man in the house at least not till the time the employer was alive. Then one day after a few years of his death, a man started coming and living with her, occasionally. Now since last year he is permanently stationed here.

One thing about Indian marriages is, the men prefer to take the women away to THEIR homes after the marriage. This is the first time I witnessed the opposite, they were so eager to occupy that flat, that this woman was allowed to bring in a man to stay with her, so they could keep control of the apartment. This man could be working for the GNLF, be a spy or anybody – no one knows for sure but since it serves the purpose of keeping that woman here, and she serves the purpose of keeping me under constant threat, they are in the building.


By IPC, murder, as well a culpable murder is a punishable offence.


If they can, through these torture and threats and attacks can flush me out, they can get my mother to write away the property and that is what they will do.


I fear for my life and property is why I left this note here online for everyone to see. And know in case something happens to me, not that anyone cares but still.

I had to.

One other person has been told about these things and he happens to be a judge of a High Court of India. He is a friend of a friend.

The woman I live with and was raised to call ‘mother’, was witness to what happened last night, but did not say a word of protest or go out and inform the neighbours about what happened, making her a dangerous threat to me and my safety. A real mother, would be concerned about the safety of her daughter, a normal woman would be concerned about what happened yesterday. Her attitude clearly proves her psychotic tendencies and apathy and lack of normal human feelings or sense of responsibility or even a clear sense of right or wrong.

People trying to barge in into your apartment after dark, by normal standards is unacceptable. any other normal human being in that situation would call in people, and rally for support to ensure the safety of the person facing it, whether they are related to her or not – they would do it out of common humanity. This person lacks such capacities is why she is a threat to me and my property and should not be living with me and I need to be rescued from her presence. this last bit is for my “friend” to know and comprehend.

The post is a first draft, it would be edited once am actually out of the situation, right now am still a bit shaken an upset and I wrote this firts thing in the morning just while it is still fresh in my mind. Last night I was too distraught, but I did inform of it to my insurance officer, and one family upstairs. I told them they need not act upon it, but that I just am letting them know it happened on December 21, 2015, while the retelecast of the Jimmy Kimmel show was going on on TV. It was between 5:30pm and 6pm. Monday.

Something about the show, they show it as slotted for 1800 hrs, but it actually is aired here at 1730 or 1700 hours I think, I usually always catch it in the middle of it – today am going to try at 1700 hours and see what it is with the exact time for the retelecast. Donald Trump was the guest.

It is very cold and windy here this morning and am in despair – am not sure whether I should leave station and go join work out of town in such a situation even though reservations have been made and the plane ticket has arrived.



Raj Kumar Academy Lucknow India

Same building a little earlier than the gorgeous blue bef it turned dark and the lights came on

the photographer shot by her students who were also sunset shooting up on the school terrace that monsoon day

The Temple lights come on and it looks like flames amidst the buildings in light of the setting sun

The Tao of Waiting

There is no doubt, just delay and long days of waiting. Days rolling into months that I know now would soon be a year – another year – of waiting.

In a series of scores of others but not like this one. This year is different, in this one there is smell of rain. But no respite.

The path lay hidden under futile efforts, attractive options that I know would detract. To be hacked clear of obstacles with the machete of thought, difficult decisions.

There is fear.  Fear is the familiar constant.

I let it flow, through me,  like the water I must drink. I let visions and wishfilled thoughts that would one day transform today’s reality, play, out in the sun.

I smear words, thoughts, wishes, dreams, desires of the burning, now restless, but not impatient heart, on the walls of chatrooms, hollows, dark cavernous, crowded, unknown, strange human minds.

For, if you can see them, you can find a way to hold ’em; if you can hold them, you can feed ’em, if you can feed them, they shall live and if they live, you can hope for them to thrive and if they thrive, I can cover the one hundred thousand miles.

Where I shall walk a few years hence is now a visible street, four walled spaces, lined with sound of distant voices, strange and cold.

The signs, though, are not always easily readable. But I see them – now – all the time. People, ideas, chances come together in curious synchronicity.

If wishes were horses we would still need the plane: through the pathless way, to a gateless gate, in and out of a life I have lived so far.

Vast spaces, a little girl running to meet the sky and the earth, a wedding, a funeral, at the finishing line where life holds court and, wishes grant.
She laid her back down on the grass, her gaze locked in the blue space above, she scanned the storm clouds – thunder or rain? Figure, plans executed or pain?


Wonderful Bichitra Human Mind


This gallery contains 1 photo.

the wonder of the human mind is that it fills in what is missing, weaves in the dreams of a group, touches up inanimate objects with the color of love and longing – isn’t that magic? Continue reading

Voldemort is No More: What Would the US Do Now?

mentor-osamaSheik Abdul Majid al-Zindani

Voldemort was once a sensitive child and one of the brightest of Professor Dumbledore’s students. Then one day things changed. The Dark Lord inflicted a reign of terror in the hearts of Potterland.

But Voldemort is dead.

The deft actions of the Navy Seal of the United States of America has put an end to the days of the dark lord. Osama Bin Laden is no more.

There is jubilation all over America and people had gathered in droves at Ground Zero to celebrate.

But ‘now what’ in Potterland? Is the world’s largest, most powerful nation (militarily?) going to turn its back on the Mecca of Terror and concentrate on economic development back home and invest in philanthropy?

Well, from the fact that no one in the corridors of the White House is seen grinning yet, not even the President of the United States under whose leadership this historic event transpired, it is clear that that is unlikely.

The White House is keenly aware that this is only the end of one Act in this ten year old play that is still ongoing and that there is still no sign of closure or n even the end.

American citizens around the world has been alerted to take care. Osama is gone but we haven’t got Al Qaeda yet. International experts confirmed the justification of this anxiety.

For those who are aware they know fully well that Al Qaeda is not just one organization or even one unit. It has over the years become the world union of all Islamist Jihadis all over the world, from Africa to Asia, with bases and operations spanning five continents.

An eye surgeon by profession Ayman alJawahiri has his own hawk eyes trained on the world events and patiently awaits his turn at Leadership. He is an university blue, trained in tactics and even more dangerous and ruthless than Osama.

He, unlike Osama, would not target the military but attempt to beat the enemy at the dinner table – Economic warfare.

As it is, the United States of America, the world’s richest country has been struggling with its domestic problems for the last three years, with its national debt running into multi-trillions now. Large chunks of US economic deficit is due to the additional and growing military expenses to cope with feeding and managing American troops stationed in scores of warfronts in Africa, Middle East, Far East, Pakistan, Afghanistan …

He would aim to increase tension to engage the US troops further and deeper. Jawahiri would use their best friend Taliban in Afghanistan and Iraq. Al Qaeda think-tank Abu Yahya al-Libi would keep the pot roasting in Libya. Colonel Gaddafi is his special friend and the Colonel is already very angry with the US. They have killed his son. They have killed his grandson! These are very serious injuries for any man.

Eventually, the American economy would begin to flounder and the nation become vulnerable and that would be the moment of the Islamist Independence Day sun to rise most likely.


Did Pakistan Benefit From Osama Bin Laden’s Capture and Death?

Outside of all this, the Pakistani question looms over everyone’s head. With the “goras” winning their quarry this time, Pakistan killed quite a few birds with one stone.

a)      Its relation with the US increasingly became strained because of the kidnappings and killings of the US diplomats in Pakistani Pakistan’s position was very difficult – on the one hand it had to keep the Us content and on the other manage its own militant agenda. Now that the Americans got what they wanted, Pakistan gets to iron out the differences a bit and prove to the US that it is with them in the war against terror: issue based support in changed circumstances.

b)      By declaring the cutting off of supplies it used the situation to play out to its own people.

c)      Pakistan wanted  Al Jawahiri in the fore front for a long time but could not with the ailing Osama still alive and did not want to bloody their hands with the sin of removing Osama themselves. Now with him conveniently out of the way – their problems are solved.


US After the end of Bin Laden: Is the War on Terror Over?

For the Obama government, it was necessary to show the world that they are capable of walking the talk and with the burial of Osama in the deep seas Obama managed to bury the Husseini issue as well.

However, to ensure another term at the White House it would be necessary to keep Frankestein happy. So, it is likely that the United States of America would come to an understanding with the Pakistani government and continue their homage at the shrine of the Mecca of Terror. Pakistan knows this. Give and take. The day their interests clash, the claws and teeth would be bared, feathers fly, and the chips would fall where they may.

The end of Osama Bin Laden is a historic event but in no way the end of the history of Islamist militancy. The reign of terror and wars would continue.  Action-reaction in keeping with Newton’s third Law of motion would continue as once this team would win and another time that one.

  Head   NONV  Bapu

The rift between the America and the Islamist world is now complete and is unlikely to ever mend.

What Does the Capture and Death of Bin Laden Mean for the world?

The war on terror now would probably never end for either side.

Whenever Pakistan feels threatened, the ISI would use the Taliban and Al Qaeda against the US and soon Jawahiri would declare war against the US as Jihad or the Holy War and America would seek his head.

Today as I sat and watched the British Queen place a wreath at the Irish Garden of Remembrance, and their national anthem played and I watched their faces, I dreamed that someday, India and Pakistan be standing at Rajghat,  paying homage to the man both nations revere as Bapu. I hope and pray that someday, at Obamaland someone would have a brain wave and remember Gandhi (and Martin Luther).  An eye for an eye never does end wars and if you want to see change around you, be the change yourself is what he had said.