WHY DEBRUP IS NOT "NUMBERED"

Hello,
You know me as Debrup.But that is about as much you know of me,which is pretty minuscule to form an idea but also dangerously tempting to form an idea.Agreed,an idea of mine won't push you into frenzied yells of "EUREKA",but I must ensure that that idea is not unduly distorted lest it may add to an already overflowing pitcher of BAD KARMA(mine,of course!).A few of our ancient elders,in some other time,some other neighbourhood,were hesitant to take pictures for they believed a part of their VITAL FORCE gets trapped into the picture;though i'm not quite a
PAGAN myself,i do believe one carries vibes with oneself,vibes that are formed by the curious superposition of one's own nobility and his impact/reflected vibes from others.So I suppose my eagerness to clarify is in right earnest.

Let me begin with a story..for once take a ride with me to those precious pimpled days(my pimples,of course),those days of innocence,of a very inquisitive innocence,of ash colored trousers and skirts.Upstart magazines call those days TEEN AGE(UNISH KURI) , yours truly calls that AGE [no not biological,that was an era,akin to the NEOLITHIC/CHALCOLITHIC AGE] the ISHA AGE.

So picture a pimpled 15 yr old,intoxicated with the just discovered pleasure of JIBANANDA(he used to read only BANGLA those days,and ppl said he read a lot),the pleasure of an infant moustache,the pleasure of the first puja hang-out with friends,the pleasure of FTV. He felt redeemed every sec for every feeling that rubbed his mind was new,fresh,pure unadulterated experience of stepping into the threshold of adultery.

Presently our man is walking back home from school,weary for he skipped lunch today,the tiresome walk writ large on face. He has saved 15 mins (worldly equivalent of 27 rupees!) he thinks as he turns right,while the sad road turns left to home.He stealthily enters a suffocating cabin whose sweating wall reads " pulse-90 secs" (inflation was still to hit INDIA,things were cheaper then,weren't they?).

HE had read in insipid books that the heart goes lub-dub.But he knew for these frozen moments every week heart went krring-krring.He knew the telephone receiver was receiver no more;it has become a stethoscope enabled with a loudspeaker.He heard his heart race krring-krring at a deafening decibel,every week ,week after week while his mind settled into a numb,nerves frayed into a clutter of questions:
WHAT IF HER FATHER PICKS IT UP?
WHAT If KAKIMA ASKS WHY?
WHAT IF SHE HERSELF ASKS WHY?
But believe me everytime ISHA would pick it up,everytime the conversation was same,he always had the same sweat which would progressively vaporize with each word of hers,words seemed like notes then,everytime he would fly back home,everytime...
Looking back,those moments can never be replicated,neither can he feel deja vu for those moments were,are, frozen in time.

The story ends here for what follows is bitter reality[what u read is sweet reality,and i want the story to stay all sugary.]
As we grew up we both got cell phones.I didn't have to skip lunches any more,neither did she have sit b4 the land line on Fridays like an expecting mother, for we were all too accessible to each other now.Access to her was what i pined for but that came at the cost of the mystery about her.No i went wrong there,there is no mystery about her,she is mystery.

U know dear reader,LOVE for me is all about exploration,exploration of each little emotion that i felt for her,exploration of her mind body and soul.She is a quest for me that would keep me on the hunt for the next 7 births...but if the mystery dies the quest ends.I don't wanna grow ,i wanna be imprisoned in the time warp en sheathed by those frozen moments .So keeping the cell away is an attempt,however meek,in that endeavour.I know its not a very practical thing to do but then i care more for my idiosyncrsies,my reflections and my heart than i care for the cares of rationality.

If u have reached this far,then congratulations at having endured such an ordeal..and i'm sorry but then even in this age of MATRIX EDUCARE,there are no made-easys for the matters of the mind.