22nd August, 2011.
Dear Diary,
Back in Mama's house. Flight was terrible. Couldn't afford a first class for myself (esp with all that money gone belly-up) so settled for an economy class seat and what do I get in return? A back that feels like someone practiced their Judo skills on it 😡
Man I need a smoke. Really really badly. Just LANDING in India made me want to light one up...at the immigration they were taking forever and they almost lost a bag of mine and their detector wasn't working so the creep was frisking us WITH HIS HANDS 🤢
The bins are STILL overspilling with garbage (yeah I know, the same thing happens on a Friday night back home, but not everyday!) and the beggars are STILL running across heavy traffic to get a chillar or two...man, the way they navigate those roads on a busy day they'd make a fortune as trapeze artists 😕 I mean at least THAT way they won't be hanging around drooling all over my car.
Just thinking about them makes me want a smoke.
But the cigarette case is in the car and right now I can't even get outta here to get it you know.
Only thing I can smell here is the scent of roasting...am sure Mami is making khakras, You know I used to eat them like mad in the beginning, Ma had sent like 15 packets to last at least three months but I finished them in three days. And then I went to a place nearby where it tasted AWFUL and I wasn't sure I wanted to go all the way to Wembeley just to have homemade snacks...
Besides...everywhere I went that looked Indian, those eyes followed me. Baapji's eyes, hard like diamonds and black like coal. Eyes that could scare the crap out of you just by looking in your general direction. The way they turned my perfectly normal father into an incoherent puddle of mush.
Those eyes stopped Pappa from ever speaking and had it not been for me being in London they would have shut me up too.
And then one day I turned around and told those eyes exactly what I felt. They never came to me again.
Not until today, anyway.
Sigh. I want my flat already, mate. Life was like heaven there till the creditors started barging in. Fish and chips in unlimited quantities, and friends sometimes dropping in to invite us all for a barbeque, a night on the terrace where we mates would smoke like we were going to die tomorrow, and whichever steady girlfriend I was having at that point coming over to --
Um, okay. I'll spare you the rest of THAT, ROFL, you got most of the gory details last year. Gosh I was such a jerk then, not that I'm any less now.
I know, I know. I'm not perfect. I don't even WANT to be perfect. Everytime I tried aiming for perfection I felt HIS eyes on me, picking out things he liked to think were wrong, making me into a person I didn't even want to recognize.
Back in India I would have millions of those eyes on me. They would have never left me and I would have been just living lifetheir way.
I hate perfection because I know no one can touch it, yet they'll all turn to YOU and say that you're the only one who couldn't make the grade.
At least in freaking London they left you freaking alone.
I can still feel his eyes on me. And I'm not even home yet.
But this time I'm gonna fight. And I'm gonna win. His eyes couldn't stop me back there in London, and there's no way in heck they'll stop me now.
Watch out, Baapji darling 😈
Mohan.
P.S. GOD I need a smoke.
25th August, 2011.
Dear Diary,
Maybe I should just stay with Mama and Mami forever, you know. Just Mom and me and my cigar packet. And that little cognac case that I like to pretend is 'protein shake' over here - not that I DON'T like protein shakes - and you. Dude I'd have gone mad over there the first few months if you weren't around. Am still trying to figure out who dropped you in my little suitcase back then. Was it Ma? Or maybe it was Pappa...Pappa who always kept his mouth sealed because Baapji wouldn't let him have a mouth in the first place...or maybe even because he felt those eyes chasing him wherever he went just as I did.
After all these years Mama still likes those dandiya and garba performances. Am still trying to remember how I got a first place in that dandiya competition when those all little mirrors on the costume kept poking at my back 😵 Who was that chick who used to play dandiya with me all the time? Pretty girl with incredibly long shiny hair, nice bright eyes and this BIG smile pasted on her face 24/7...name started with K.
Oh wait yeah, it was Kastur, the one who liked puff-sleeves a lot. Man, I think I had a bit of a crush on her for two weeks. Wonder where she is now.
Got my pack btw, I flicked Mama's car keys and got the pack out before he could even notice. And THEN I promptly left it on the bleeding SOFA for Mama to find! 😡 Really should remember that this is Mama's house and not my flat back home and that if Mom ever finds out she'll stuff the cigars into my nostrils and string me upside down.
I miss her already. How did I survive without her for four years? I know SHE can survive, she's been taking crash courses in survival ever since she left her maayka. I used to cry for her everyday and every night...you remember how half your pages had tearstains that would never go away. Sometimes I want to shake her and scream, Stop doing this. It's not worth it. I'mnot worth it!
--
It was raining tonight. Had just finished a looong invigorating smoke session and it had started to drizzle. I admit London's rain SMELLS cleaner and stuff but over here you have this lovely warm, I'm-enjoying-this feel here that you don't really get back home because back there you're thinking about how best to keep yourself from getting wet till you reach your house or office or uni or whatever.
Had the strangest feeling I wasn't alone in the rain last night. I thought I felt a hand...a very soft hand. Weirdest thing I tell you. Must have been the nicotine high.
Not sure I ever want to go back to that madhouse, Mom. You may be able to survive somehow, but me? I'll bring the whole flaming HOUSE down!
Mohan.
PS: I got my smokes alright, but GOD do I need a drink!
PPS: Back in my room. Was partying like mad last night. One of those chicks was pretty willing but had a boyfriend with knuckles that looked like that could lay a dent on steel. I like girls, sure, but I like being safe MUCH better.
PPPS. Going out. Need a jog if I'm going to have to convince Ma that I was at home without looking incredibly sloshed
CID
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