A Humble Beginning
I said to Love,
"Thou art not young, thou art not
fair,
No faery darts, no cherub air,
Nor swan, nor dove
Are thine; but features pitiless,
And iron daggers of distress,"
I said to Love.
~Thomas Hardy
He slammed the bedroom door
behind himself, shut his eyes cursing in undertones, and rammed a fist into the
wall; before leaning crookedly against the door, back upon it.
This, was what underlay his non-committal indifference towards
relationships. All kinds - family, friends, affairs...societal interactions in
general. Relationships were albatrosses. The
real ones were. You carried the burden without option, and in the end they
became your cross. There was no living with them, and no living without.
As if the showdown with Mauli in
the canteen had not been enough. His mother had availed just the (in)opportune
moment to pull an indiscrete mommy act. Just before he had gotten the first
bite of lunch inside of him.
Consequence?
Robindo Ganguli was positively incensed - to
the extent that he thought his head would split wide open or something - there was this maddening urge to hurl
something really heavy, and really hard, at someone, and an empty
stomach which growled for food didn't alleviate his situation at all. He hadn't
been a breakfast person all his life, and today had been no exception. Then, Mauli's
confrontation in the canteen had dismissed the possibility of satisfying
himself with the routine fill of greasy junk (and hot tea to wash it over). But
the limit was, when mother, his very own
mother for god-freaking-sake, had put him into a spot before Thaaku Ma. - 'Last night was fifth in a tow that you didn't
get back home until dawn Robby. Will you ever assume responsibilities like
your brother?' It could have been anything but pleasant, and nothing miraculous
had come to his rescue.
Nothing ever did.
Thaaku Maa had jumped the gun like
she'd been sitting in wait for a prey to come along all that time. Three
minutes into it, he'd compelled his mind to seek distraction, to shut out the
correctional lecture. There was no way to endure one more in under an hour. He
was on the brink of a temper outburst, if he didn't watch it.
A part of him was
also, more than just a little bit hurt, although he refused to acknowledge that
aspect of the matter as such.
Mentally then, he had engaged
himself with the eternal, and solitary boon of his life - music. Just before Mauli had
barged into his otherwise uneventful day earlier that morning, he'd been listening to this
Nickleback track when the temptation of trying it on the acoustic had crossed
his mind. The inter college fest was coming up next month. The track appealed
to him as a choice for the band's performance, and so he'd made a mental note
to look up the chords. Later.
Back home, and on the dining table now, as Thaaku Maa
had continued with her stern relay of wisdom and appropriateness, for his benefit, he had decided this was his
perfect 'later' occasion. Busying himself with a hypothetical working out of
scales and chords, he'd tuned out of her preaching channel.
A dense blunder.
For no sooner had he recalled the
lyrics of the chorus (...this is how you
remind me, of who I really am...), that Mauli's lengthy accusations had come
back to burst his bubble all over again. A mirthless, indignant smirk escaped
him before he had a chance to check it.
It couldn't have been timed
worse.
Easily, it had been mistaken for
a shameless defiance on his part, in the face of well wishing elders who were
being concerned about him, and even if he had wished to bail himself out of the
mess, there was no explaining the reality of the offending expression. So he'd resigned
to keeping quiet. Unfortunately, Thaaku Maa had not followed his example. In
under a minute, the low toned solemn lecture had become a melodramatic sequence
that held him responsible for every persisting ill in the society, nearly. He'd toyed with the idea of zoning
out a second time, but wisely not succumbed to the temptation. As far as he
could have it, he preferred keeping peace. Also barring that instance, he had
always held Thaaku Maa in genuine esteem. So impassively, he had borne through
her part. It hadn't helped his case much. After several more minutes, when she
finally seemed like she was going to take a break, he had extended his hand
towards the jalfarezi and bhaat, not caring that another day he'd
have whined about the distasteful Thaaku Maa exclusive menu. Not soon enough.
Cause promptly, Thaaku Maa ordered his mother, by way of suggesting, that he
shouldn't get lunch. As punishment.
W*F?!!!
He had looked up instantly,
wondering for a fleeting second if he'd misheard. But he had not. Maa had been
obliged to take the bowl away from him, not looking very comfortable about it,
but that hadn't made up at all.
Like really? Now they were going to starve him? For what? What exactly
had he done that was so out of line?
And what was he, a precocious 8 year old back to primary school? 'Now off to your room and be sorry about
your misbehavior for once. Neelu should stop hoping you will become anything
like your Anu Da. Don't you feel a moment of remorse Robindo?'
That had done it! In response to
those words, he had plainly glared back at Thaaku Maa, without caring how wrong
it was or what she'd think, or worse, how
she'd punish him next, for this. He'd
been quite besides himself for no good of his own, and with a loud thud, as he'd
gotten to his feet, his chair had crashed upon the pristine marble floor. The
unused white napkin from his lap, he had tossed with an untamed fury, such that
it went flying into the jug of iced water. With that he had strode out of the
dining hall.
And here he was now. Locked up in
his personal royal 'suite-cell', in this beyond enormous Ganguli 'jailhouse'
mansion. Once again, at the mad rush of blood to his head, he rammed a fist
into the wall. Before letting out a string of choice curses at no one and
nothing in particular, but everyone and everything in general.
Finally, he just dropped on his
bed, face down into the teasing softness of midnight blue satin covers, legs
dangling over the edge of the ornate four poster bed. Robby raked hands through
his back hair, and held them in fistfuls to regain something of the lost
composure. Getting angry or upset was not his thing. He had never let either of
them be his thing. He knew better than that, he had known better than that when he was just a kid eight years ago.
'...insensitive...disgusting...schmuck...' among other names she had called
him, in front of half the college - juniors, seniors, even the labor staff. Not
one among whom could stand up to him on their own if their life depended on it.
Let alone insult him as blatantly. What business did she have humiliating him
publicly like that anyways? Who the hell did she think she was? Daughter of the
college principal, sure! The same
college, which relied for its elementary existence on his father's funds.
Not that it had ever mattered to
him that way. His was a life of comfort, living off the easy and unrestrained cash
inflow. People told him, often grudgingly, that he didn't value it for its
worth. Perhaps, because he'd never seen another way of living. But perhaps, he simply did not care about money and all?
Not that much anyways...?
He was the assumed black sheep in
this flawless Ganguli lineage, of that he had no doubt. And although in the
depth of his heart he would never wish to disgrace his family name, he had
never truly had a conscience awakening to change himself as a person. Robindo
Ganguly was comfortable being Robby. He liked being easy and outgoing, fun
loving and never crazily serious about anything at all, jesting - even if he
was mildly guilty about occasionally over doing it - in general, a charmer. And
no matter what responsibility lectures whoever chose to dish out his way, he
wasn't going to give away his preferred lifestyle to preset goals and what-not morals
and unwanted restrains of a default career. Not
without a fight. This was his unique existence. And personally, he'd never
have it any other way. Agreed, he was different from all the business oriented
men in his family. What was so wrong about
being different?
Today, even she'd said it... 'Aren't you ashamed of yourself when you
look at Anurag?'
It had pinched him, her words.
She wasn't the first one, and far from the only one, who had told him as much.
But coming from her, it had wounded his pride. Or ego, as she chose to call it. It disturbed him even more that he
couldn't pin down the exact reason as to why her words, annoyingly patronizing as everyone else who thought it
was there business to meddle with his affairs, actually affected him. Heck she'd not even apologized when her misconception had been cleared by the same
girl she had been protecting from him. The girl had told her, in curt
displeasure, that he, Robby, was helping her with the dance steps, and not misbehaving. Mauli had only narrowed
eyes at him, lined with raw disgust, like that one fact did nothing to change
her opinion. Like she wasn't even convincingly sold out on the girl's narration
of facts.
But the most misplaced part of
that entire encounter had been his
own silent bearing of it. Not only had he said not a word, in defense or
otherwise, he had been far from treating her to his characteristic sneers and
scoffs, in reaction to such a trite display of righteousness. Because he had been, most unlike himself, offended
by her presumptions for real. It had bothered him, involuntarily, that she
thought so lowly of him.
Yet, who didn't? Reputation had
its means to travel places. And he'd never been the one to care. Speculations
were meant to be rife and in fact, he had never made a secret of enjoying all
the attention he got. Why was it any
different in this case?
Feeling suffocated currently, as
his warm breath pressed onto the sheets became increasingly moist, he turned
around on the bed, so that he was now lying upon his back. Staring at the
elegant (and lackluster in his opinion) pastel ceiling engravings. It remained
like that, silent and still, until he could actually hear the steady rhythm of
his own breathing, and in a strange way, it calmed him down from all the nerves
that had been inexplicably worked up.
Minutes later, he slid off the
bed feeling much lighter, and walked over to the wall with the large glass window.
He threw open the curtains in one swift tug, and then pushed open the windows.
Reaching out for his precious acoustic, he nestled himself in his favorite spot
on the window sill.
And inattentively, as he plucked
at the strings in disjoint notes and chords, he decided he was giving the
matter too much thought. The chords gradually gained rhythm, encouraged. Soon,
he was strumming a tune altogether familiar, as his mind idly wandered to
thoughts and places and people - none of consequence. He felt completely at
peace with himself again.
Or maybe not, he thought frowning and grinning at once as his
stomach produced a loud rumbling to get his attention.
He'd almost forgotten how utterly
famished he was. He had to get out of the house. Grab a couple burgers or
something, and maybe go out clubbing after that. Yes. That sounded like a plan.
Even as it didn't have his spirits absolutely soaring, the idea of going out one
more evening, especially this
evening, felt undeniably welcome.
He dug into the baggy denims for
his cell, and then flicked through the phone book.
Before finally deciding who he
wanted for company tonight.
***
ps: The verse above, as credited, is by Thomas Hardy.
The song referred to can be be checked out on this link (if you haven't already heard it)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jODXM3wsbLQ
Edited by spln - 13 years ago
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