Musings by Kamal Kumar

Dear Dolly,

You might have already moved to that "city of waterfalls" with your friend. Or you might have already reached there. I know, your country already saw sunset today. And I expected you to reach the city before sunset. Wherever you are, you forget to convey your farewell before you went there this morning. I was really expecting some words from you when you are being far from your usualness. But I don’t mind, I know some fragile existences don’t get bothered to be remembered. I think, I was overshadowed by the excitement of joys of a doll, who is keeping herself far from the everyday stresses, at least for two days. 

Today I am not writing you about the usual bla bla about our mysterious relationship. I was somewhat inspired by something today. That’s why today was little bit different than yesterday and other previous days. It is the only urge to share some feelings with you.

After daring to be irresponsible towards my busy schedule in office, I rolled toward a documentary festival in the city. For a storyteller like me, it was a grand party. Where I can see the style of expressions of visual media, where I can feel the pains of people, and where I can leap with joys of amazement.

The first documentary I watched was "Light of the Himalaya". Which was about an expedition of doctors, who go to a remote, mountainous village of Nepal to cure hundreds of eye patient there. I like the documentaries than feature films, because documentary speaks reality, I feel it like anything. Everything is so lively. After watching the documentary I felt really pity to myself that I live in the most gorgeous mountainous region in the world, but I have not ever touched a mountain.

Once upon a time, one of my best friends in university used to tell me that, the greatest and happiest people in the world are those who have traveled so many places, who live versatile life, and who have lots of vocabulary. After watching that documentary I again judged myself with those standards. But I was failed again and again. I was motivated again and again.

So many rhetorical questions and confessions unfurled into my mind. As a journalist I always did the clerk like duty. I worked to work. I worked to survive. I had studied in university that journalism is about "voice of voiceless". But the statement was tributed in the final examination and never remembered again. I always saw my media speaking the power center and speaking the money center.

The second and the final documentary I watched today was "Invisible Children: Rough Cut". It was about the children in conflict-prone Sudan. The film narrated the story of children who are being the victim of conflict, who are being abducted by the rebels and used as soldiers. Only the awful situations there didn’t inspire me but the background of the documentary makers. Three young guys of USA made the documentary risking there lives in Northern Sudan. Those guys were like me and like you, what they did, made the difference.

Dear Dolly, I have seen flowers come in stony places, and kind things done by men with ugly faces, and the gold cup won by the worst horse at the races. However we are masked with, we are human being. Finally we feel. Sometimes I am a freak, sometimes I am a geek, most of the times I keep myself under the atmosphere of hard rock and heavy metals, most of the time I don’t care about the rest of the worlds. But the other side of mine is beautiful more than my imagination. We can turn ourselves out to be extra.

After watching those documentaries, I was really inspired to do something, to give the voice to voiceless, to explain the unexplained, and to speak the unspoken. I have planned to go to a place "Jiri" next week with one of my friend. I have planned to go there on motorbike. We will go there with blank mind and see what we see. We try to sort out the differences in this beautiful place after the end of a decade long conflict. I will write what I see. It is my recent dream. It will be disturbing me until I make it come true.

Yours Teddy

Dear moon,

This year I have been musing about winter more than necessary. You may delineate me as a PR officer of the winter, who is assigned to stir up propaganda about the winter. Now let me talk about the beauty of the beautiful and wise of the wisdom. Its you dear moon.

You know, it has been nearly 4 years that I haven’t watched you carefully. I remember, I used to talk to you for several hours when I was in my beautiful and peaceful hometown. But as I lost in the jungle of concrete, I was really rude to you. I understand how does it feel to lose a best company for four years. I am really sorry for my indifference.

Dear moon, Today is not the full-moon day. That’s why you are not showing all of your face. One fourth of your body is covered with darkness or may be with shyness. I watched you very carefully just few minutes ago. I saw you really unstable and blushed to see me after long silence. While I was watching you continuously, your face was like of a Nepali women, who meets her husband after 6 years, who is back from earning money in the Gulf. When you and me were confronting after this much long period, there were everything shining on your face, there were beauty, there were surprise, there were shyness, and obviously there were a fear of loosing me again.

I really miss a moment of childhood. One day, I was on my Mom’s lap and crying. My mom was showing me the most beautiful thing in this world to make me happy, and it was you dear moon. I think I was fallen to your beauty when I was just 4 years ago. When my mom showed me you face, I created more trouble in spite of being happy. I asked my mom the way to reach your town. Later in my youngerhood I started realizing the distance and impossibilities of touching you. The more I realized the distance, the more I started loving you. You taught me to dream, you taught me to smile.

Dear moon, I love your beauty as well as the blotch on your face. I love your calmness as well as the violent tide in the full moon day created by you. I love your consistency, as well as the frequency of your movement. I love your strong power to remain calm, beautiful, shinning and source of inspiration in this cold night of midwinter.

Dear moon, you are great because you love to be challenged. You love to be frictioned with the coldness outside. you love darkness so that you can show the world how beautiful you are. This nature of accepting the darkness is the only reason behind your beauty and greatness. Dear moon, sometimes try to show your appearance in the daylight, you doesn’t matter to anybody. even not to myself.

The Earth

Dear Today

How are you? You may be fine But I am not. You will be here for 10 hours more. and tomorrow you will not be here. Yeterday November 29 was here. Honestly, I am hating you. I dont want you to be here more though I have to suffer you all the day and till midnight.

I know winter is injecting you by its bitter coldness. Dont worry I am also the victim. Though sun is teasing me straight through the window of my room. cold air is blowing. It is moving the curtains in the window, as well as my hair. Kathmandu is calm from one angle, as if it is mourning on the lost of wonderful Autumn days. The buildings around are challenging the movement in the road. The road is dusty. The vehicles are never tired of piling on. The Fulchoki Mountain in front of me is covering itself with the scarf of fog. I cant see its height right now. A big disc antena on the top of the next building is face to face with son in the sky. It may be asking the sun not to hide soon. I know it will miss the sun whole night, and the next morning it will found itself covered with scattered drops of dew. The hide and seek will continue between everything. Even between you and me, but I wonder I am hiding or seeking?

Always

Dear Albert Einstein,

You died in 1955. I was born in 1985. I was born exactly 30 years after you died. Sometimes, I think I was born as your re-incarnation. I know this may sound very ridiculous. But dear Albert, read this letter very carefully, I am not just writing the meaningless sentences with psychic syndromes. I am talking about possibilities of science and mystery behind it. But, the reason behind writing you letter after decades is different. The reason was just a moment of millisecond when I was having tea in cafeteria. I can’t imagine the power behind that portion of second. And I am still unsure how the moment fused into an urge to write you. Let’s leave it. Let me jump to the topic. I know you are not used to keeping yourself busy with any non-theoretical statements.

Dear Albert, sometimes I feel, after you died your soul roamed in this universe observing the unsolved mysteries. I think your soul was tired of dealing only with facts. It was really tired of searching the reason behind every consequence. When you saw people with pain, when you saw the masterpiece of good and evils in the same planet, when you saw people falling in love, when you saw people going crazy, you realized that every thing don’t necessarily have reason. So your soul was very frustrated with science and you entered an artistic mind and that is me. Albert, I know you can’t believe it. But I can prove it.

Albert, you may wonder how a scientist can be reborn as an artist. But listen to me carefully, as a scientist you always dealt with the science of attachment and detachment. And as an Artist I am dealing with the art of attachment and detachment. The common thing between us is the capacity of dealing with attachment and detachment. And we have to deal with these factors, however we are masked with.

Dear Albert, when I was thinking to write some words to you, I was thinking to write about pain and frustration. I mean I have not started the topic yet. That is the difference between an artist and a scientist. We go through the background more than necessary. It is the thing that scientists never know and artists over know.

When I get tired of thinking and dreaming, I try to be more scientific. I mean I try to be the real Albert Einstein. But I have failed so many times. I never knew which compound of this universe form love, pain, smile, and all these abstract things. I never knew the science of living and suffering. I never knew the chemical formula behind the relationship. I never knew the density of love. I never knew the pressure of dream. I never knew the parameter of pains. I never knew the number of protons and electrons in heart. I never know the frequency of the fluctuations existence.

I really never knew so many things. That is why I couldn’t be a scientist. Being artist is rather easier. Artists don’t need to prove anything. They just write it and let the world deal it. People can understand the art the way they like.

Albert, tell me one thing that you never told anybody. Or more possibly, nobody asked you this question. What is life? Is it art or science?

Hopefully,

The Artistrick

Dear Reality,

You are really bitter. You are really unwanted. You are shocking, you are disgusting, you are disturbing, you are haunting, you are everything that I dont want you to be. But why you are always there behind the scene? Why you are playing the role of antagonist in my life. I know the reason, Because you are reality. I know you are reality but why I still hate you? I hate you that is the reality.

Dear Reality, when I was dreaming to kiss the Mt Everest and drink the milk of paradise, you stopped me. You have always aborted the fetus of my dream. When I was saying I deserve, you were insisting that I dont.

Reality, you are the jerk between the colorful transition between me and my angel. You are the reason why I love her and you are the reason why she doesnt. How dare you to be the reason of different feelings at a same time? Dont you ever feel guilty to change your mask frequently?

Reality, Why you are always attached with me? you are the only thing conjoined with me that I dont like. If you were just any of my body part, I am sure reality, I would not have let you enjoy this much long.

Reality, You are there. I know you will be there forever. You will be haunting so many scattered dreams. But I will not stop fighting with you. and I will try not to let u be this much bitter, till I drop. 

Dear 3257 visitors,

This letter addresses all of you who have visited my blog and reading this letter right now. Now I have 3257 visitors in this blog. I am really proud of myself and I want to express profound gratitude to all those visitors for their overwhelming support.

I did not have any specific idea when I started blogging. I tried to blog in almost all popular blog sites. But finally I am stick with the windows live space. Technically it is updated frequently, people can see my updated space in their messenger. So it was easy way to express my ideas, beliefs and feelings to the world. When I was studying in university, the theory of "Global Village" by Marshall McLuhan, was one of the stuff, I didn’t believe in. But now myself being a part of global village.

I am connected to all kind of people in the world, who keep themselves busy in the village of cyberspace. A freak from California, a geek from Paris, a frustrated student from India, an IT girl from Romania, a political science student from Vietnam, a journalist from Bangladesh, all are connected to to me. All of them were somehow source of inspiration for me to write about various topics. All of them were very supportive for my strong desire to know the socio-cultural values of various region of the world. All they add more knowledge into my database of cyber-space psychology. I am thankful to all of the.

You people are giving me more courage to write, you are making me express whatever I feel. As much as I get new visitor in my blog, I feel more responsible to educate, to entertain or to inform by my blog. As far as possible, and despite of busy routine of a journalist, I am trying to give some of time to blog.

At last, but not least, I am really thankful to some of you who are more then special person for me. My sister nani and vinaju, who frequently use their beautiful comments in my blog. My bro saroj who gives very powerful suggestion. My office friend Girish who is the greatest fan of my blog and use some of my beautiful words in his display and my dearest Dolly, who reads my blog the most, who reads it everyday, and to whom the whole blog is dedicated. thanks Dolly.

Kamal Kumar

Dear Dolly,

All I know is that you are a girl who laughs a lot and makes me smile when I talk to you or when I think about you . But I have also seen you crying so many times. I think people smile with everybody but they cry with only few. I am really thankful to you for sometimes crying with me. It is really a rare opportunity to be reflected on someone’s tears. You are the one who has shared this much tears and cheers with me.

Dear Dolly, today is the 41th day since we knew each other for the first time. I hadn’t expected the intimacy to reach this level just in six weeks. I hadn’t expected you would be such a wonderful reason to smile, to share and care. Anyone outsider of our relationship may find the situation a bit ridiculous, unbelievable and dramatic. But I am enjoying this drama where two characters from different corner of the world are sharing the things that they never shared with anyone before. This drama between you and me is full of profound level of naturality, innocence and reality. It is a drama but it is not. It is a reality, but it is more than it. Whatever it is, we are enjoying it. May be we are crafting a new illustration of post-modern relationship. 

Dolly, I never believed in love. I still wave green flag to the statement that relationship is designed in heaven. I have found minor co-incidences in life with great impacts ahead. Same with our relationship. I wouldn’t have met you, if my connection didn’t work that day. I wouldn’t have met you if I was busy with works that day. I wouldn’t have met you, if my boss had called me few minutes ago or my friends had asked me to go for tea with them. So I will be always thankful to that span of some seconds.Thanks to that wonderful and mysterious moment of October 4th.

You remember dolly, I was really happy to see your comments in my blog. you said that you were happened to find a old book "Love Letters" after you read my blog. I remember how smoothly our intimacy took the height. And you hinted that our relationship matched with the movie "The Lake House", and you suggested me to watch that movie. I was really excited after I saw the movie. The beautiful things between you and me went on and on. and one day, unconsciously we started missing eachother. It happened itself. I still wonder what was the moment when we started missing eachother.

Dolly, I want to wrap up this letter with the statement I started with. That you are the girl who makes me smile. I hope I also make you smile. And what I think is the goal of life is happiness.

I really hope that, we can be smiling forever for eachother and because of eachother.

Hope to meet you one day.  

Yours Teddy

Dear Winter,

You must mind your arrival this time. You came without any invitation. And you came without any pre-hints. You have come such rudely that I happened to be reminded of the moment when I met my ex girl on a dusty noon at bus station. But dear winter, do not dare to overestimate your strength. You have already come into my life 21 times before. And your arrival this time would not be that much different. It would just add another digit to your arrival in my life.

Hey winter, I know this year you aint gonna be that much cruel. I think you have heard about Global Warming. Though it is one of the stuff that I don’t believe on, scientists are escalating world-wide debate on it. Coz there is nothing left to invent or discover. They have not seen more prospects on head hunting and outdated theory.

Dear winter, what I meant to mean is that those fucking scientists would not let you go to the freezing point. Though you will chill up the entire nation, the flag bearer of Global Warming, will submit a fake report to the United Nations, that will say the world remained hot even in the January, that will say the Mt. Everest was melted down by two meters even in winter. And people will march a protest in Mexico with play cards against USA. I can imagine my dear winter, how will you be embarrassed at that moment.

Dear winty, let me imagine the other aftereffects of your arrival, beside some cocktail discussions at the UN and the rally in Mexico, you will take hundreds of lives in Kashmir and in the mountainous regions of my country. You will crack the scarcity of foods in several districts.

I know financially also, you will very costly this year, as previous years. Most of the staffs in our office will keep themselves busy on tea talk under the sun light in cafeteria. Coz the AC doesn’t work in all rooms.

Chilliers!!!

Dear miss take

It’s been nearly one year, since our eyes met for the first time. In the period of one year, I never dared to count the frequency of the meeting of our eyes. I never dared to count the frequency of my dreams, unfurling upon your eyes. That would be like counting the stars. We enjoy counting it, but we never can. I remember you, seeking my eyes in the crowd. I might be wrong. It could be the greatest illusion of the lifetime. But I enjoyed the illusion. You might have also found me busy searching you. I was really indifferent to myself. My daily routine never mattered to me. I never felt my own existence. The stuff roaming all the time inside my mind were you. Are you there? Will you be visible? Will you smile and say hello to me?

I know sometimes, I was damn crazy about you. I regret, you never tried to feel me. You can ask my friends, how crazily I was depicting your picture. Just your picture. Just a thrown a single drip of smile from the corner of your face used to be my great company for all the day. And an unconsciously spoken word from your side used to be talk of the day. Sometimes, I used to be far from you, sometimes hundreds of miles far. I also know, my disappearance never mattered to you. Or you never cared whether I am in or I am out. I was always confused and still confused what is inside your heart. What is the meaning of your silence?

Watching through a birds eye view, the period of one year brought so many transformations inside me and inside you too. That is the rule of nature. But I am sorry to say, my color and size of dream upon you never changed. I hope it will never change. You may have been watching me indifferent to you since last few days. I am trying to ignore your presence. But feel me carefully; I can never ever ignore my love upon you. I will be holding my dreams forever.

I can imagine, decades after, you would get married to someone else. You would have a joyful life. Your partner would be a star. And there would be a beautiful pair of stars. You would have flowers like children, sweet husband, and helpful family. You would have everything to tag your life so called "beautiful". I am not sure at all, that you will miss me a single moment by the period of time. I know you are kind of enjoying what you have with you. You are used to say "life is like this". But I will be missing you and will be regretting "life could have been like that".

Yours truly,

Dear She_rocker,

         I remember I had written to you last time in the March of this year. That was a letter of no more than 10 sentences. I don’t know whether you watched it. It might have been redirected to the junk folder, or it might have been deleted without being viewed. Or more possibly your boyfriend would have watched it and deleted before you could got it.

 The thing that provoked me to write you again is the first anniversary of the day. It has re-intensified the memories, which were on their own way to be blurred.

 Dear she_rocker, honestly I hope and I pray you are having a rocking life nowadays. I hope you are not getting disturbed by various factors as you used to be in the past.

 The span of one year was just the cascades of another day. Every morning is equally new for you and me. How we play the rhythm of sunshine does matter to us. But unfortunately, I never tried to judge the melody of the life after you left. I never tried to evaluate the strength of weakness in your absence. I never tried to measure the level of scratchiness in my life. I neither tried to miss you nor forget you. May be that way was good for myself.

 You know it is exactly one year since you flied away. And it is exactly 4 years since we met for the first time. The period of 4 years can bring a lot of transformations. But by the time, when we will be leaning at the armchair with our grandchildren around, the same period of four year of our collegehood seems to be a flash of second. The period of four year would hardly catalyze a piece of smile in the corner of your face and you would look to the small grandchildren playing outside and the photographed husband hanging on the wall. This is the reason why I am writing you now. At least the beautiful memories can be crafted into the words, as they didn’t get space into anyone’s heart.

 Thinking rationally, there was no concrete reason for why we met and why we were separated. I prefer every moments in the life to be called "expected unexpectedness". But the science of living and engineering of human nature don’t want to be dealt emotionally. That was the factor you believed. And you threw some logical interpretations for why I can’t be in relationship with you. I remember, you talked about differences between you and me and you talked about the mismatched wavelength. When we were talking about our favorite music, you said my interests don’t match yours. And sympathetically you had asked me the meaning of "Alternative Rock". I remember how my face was blushed with silence. You had asked me the name of several singers and Hollywood artists. But I still don’t remember any of the prominent names you said. Because they all are like the name of Italian foods for me.

 Well, she rocker, I don’t think this letter deserve a decorative ending. I end it.

 

Cheers!!!!