baaton baaton mein
baaton baaton mein
here is my propaganda anne carson - i kiss kiss kiss kiss kissing him like droplets of luminous want
I have begun this issue about three times now. I was lamenting about diwali the last time I had begun it, and now it is actually diwali here. I am sitting in the living room with my parents. The party on the terrace is in full swing already, and they are playing songs which don’t mean anything to me personally but when I hear them I only remember parties. Imagine being a song whose only purpose is being loud noise while people do other things. Imagine being a song.
Anyways, hello.
It is still getting colder here. We will reach peak winter real soon, and I am looking forward to it only because I want to disappear under my blanket and not talk to anyone. These are the months when the cold turns into a blanket which covers everybody’s existence. Nobody cares for me, or my sadness. I can exist in a painful, peaceful state. But I am trying to be hopeful, so I think I should focus on the important part - I can exist.
October is the last month for me personally, after that it is just days after days of trying to find my footing. Everything is unkind, I want to be held and I don’t have anyone to turn to. Sometimes I wonder, how did I manage as a child and the only answer I get in return is that this horrible feeling was asleep then, because I was busy with other things. Now I am twenty, not a child, and I have enough space for other things and these feelings, all at once.
I have had a busy few days. I think it did me good - left me little to no time to notice how heavy the air is getting now. I am thinking of running, and my father has agreed to wake me up and show me his route. I told him we don’t have to do it together, I will keep my distance, and he just looked at me the way you look at a pet you have raised right.
I am being dramatic, he just said that he will wake me up at four thirty and went back to looking at his phone. I am just trying to fix this now. I could easily backspace it but I have no idea how to do things.
I am trying to not undo things anymore, I will make it out of this year even if it kills me kills me kills me.
I recently made a playlist out of anticipation; I am waiting to become the second choice. I know I will not be loved this way forever, and I know feelings are fatal. But I am so small, and my heart has nowhere to go. Someday you will ache like I ache, and I want that for you, but if I could, I would take it all away.
It is six thirty seven in the evening here right now, and I can hear a lot of things at once. Where is my filmy life? Where are friends who care for me and sometimes feed me the bitter truth? Why am I not in an expensive lehenga right now, dancing to a peppy song which will definitely be followed by me making out with the hottest person in the room? When I was young I wanted to be these women - not those actresses but these characters, and now I find myself struggling hard to be present in my own life. On a similar note, I am tired of the main character industrial complex. I do not think it is good to appoint other people as secondary characters in my life who are here just for my character development. I am present in your life the way you are in mine, a conscious choice birthed from the necessity of human connection. We are all here, we are all struggling, we are all waiting for the impending doom. But sometimes, it really is a serious thing just to be alive on this fresh morning in this broken world.
This is getting despondent I know. Moving on.
I am making a conscious effort to be awake in my own existence. I am practising smiling at the right times, and saying yes more. Did you like it? Yes. Are we okay? Yes. Is this fine? Yes Yes Yes. Am I lying in these situations? No, I am just trying to let myself try new things. One day I will look back and feel grateful that I decided to step out of myself when I did.
I was talking to a friend today and he asked me what I wanted to be, and I said I wanted to be loved. He said everyone does. That got me thinking about how this was a very superficial answer. It is in regards to others. I want to be loved. But what do I want to be on my own? Of course, the answers can be - kind, smart, thoughtful, nice. But these too aren’t standalone, I need people to determine whether I am well mannered or not, and I need people in order to be these things. Further proof that we are all in each other’s lives for a reason and there’s no other way. Us alive, right here, feeling lucky.
I thought about it for a bit. What do I want to be on my own, in my own sea of life? And there’s no answer. I want to be deliberate, I want to remember. I want to go away easily, but I don’t want to be forgotten. Maybe someone will remember me, even in another time - because of a poem or a story or just how unbearably hot the month of May gets. I wish I could somehow leave a little piece of me back here, which would be able to see it all. But maybe I would go crazy seeing how people were still going on despite me not being there. I am not too self-conceited but it would still hurt, simply because I wouldn’t be able to do those things myself.
I am going to spend tonight thinking about death. Last year, during Diwali, I slept on my mother’s bed, and I could hear the rockets go off in the background. I hoped to wake up dead.
What about this year, Heera?
Well, I am going to change my clothes, get under the covers, and think a little. I will hope for people to say things to me, and when they will not, I will simply listen to my songs and my heartbeat. Maybe I will make some coffee.
Here’s a poem I wrote about three months ago. It was for someone who is still in my life. For that I am grateful.
Here’s a reminder, for you and for me both!
Here’s a poem which I recommend you eat in the middle of the night and down it with a can of sprite!
There’s a movie, Baaton Baaton Mein. It’s directed by Basu Chatterjee, whom I have admired for the gentle simplicity and ways in which he has depicted life in a big city in his films. Released in 1979, this movie is an ode to Bombay - Nancy (Tina Munim) and Tony (Amol Palekar) meet in the Mumbai local, and their story walks them through Churchgate and Bandra.
My favourite part about it is - the title of the film means In The Course of A Conversation. The film has two songs, called “Na Bole Tum Na Maine Kuchch Kaha'' & “Suniye Kahiye Kahiye Suniye.”
The former translates to - You did not speak and neither did I, while the latter is when you want someone to listen to you - “Hey Listen / Yeah say?”
The first song in the movie is Suniye Kahiye… and it is followed by Na Bole Tum Na… I think that is wonderful. Why? I will tell you, it is my newsletter after all.
Suniye kahiye, kahiye suniye
Suniye kahiye, kahiye na suniye
Kehte sunte baton baton mein pyar ho jayega
Hey, listen. Yeah? Say. Okay, so listen
Listen, hey. I am listening, speak.
This exchange will lead to love for sure.
Further down the line, he sings -
Ghata, chaand, bijli, barkha, pawan mein
Shaamil ho tum meri har kalpana mein
Overcast skies, the moon, the lightning, rain, in the wind
You are an ever present entity in all my daydreams.
And she replies -
Tareef meri itni karo na
Udne lagoon main kahin aasman mein
Don’t flatter me so much
That I end up on cloud nine.
In the other song, the lyrics are -
Na bole tum na maine kuchh kaha, kaha
Magar na jaane aisa kyon laga, laga
Ke dhoop mein khila hai chand din mein raat ho gayi
Yeh pyaar ki bina kahe sune hi baat ho gayi
I said nothing and neither did you
But somehow it felt like
The moon had overpowered the sun
And it was nightfall in plain sight;
That we had decided upon love, without making any conversation
Even though these songs have been penned by different lyricists (Amit Khanna and Yogesh respectively), it seems like they are both part of the same story, which they ultimately are - of Tony and Nancy. The title of the movie just ties it all together wonderfully.
A sidenote - I love Tina’s wardrobe!
It’s a sweet story, which you will forget as soon you’re done with it, but it will make you want to text that one person. And the songs will keep coming back to you over and over. My mother is tired of listening to Suniye Kahiye every afternoon after lunch, and she cribs, so I try to appease her by playing one of her favourite song afterwards. Works for us.
and lastly, here’s me. I am going to cry tonight.
I know this one wasn’t about metaphors at all like I promised last time! But I am working on that one. Never believe me by the way!
Thank you, Happy Winter to my Northern Hemisphere lovelies. I know the next few months are going to tough for a lot of us, but hold on, the snow will thaw and you will end up with a small alive bird in your hands, full of bloody feelings. I actually dreamt that it snowed here in my city a few days ago, even though that is practically/geographically impossible. It was a wondrous faraway fantasy, and I clung to it for a while, despite the frostiness it carried. If it snows here, I will give in to all my temptations and be dead by March. As for now, zinda hun yaar, kaafi hai.
Eat well my loves,
Heera.
Kaafi khubsurat ✨
you make me want to find all these old Bollywood movies and watch th all <3