The Tramp

The Memory is an irritating fly. And heck! I can't find my swatter. I am afraid even to look for it.


I don't know what I am talking about. It's been raining. Sat waiting for a friend on the railings below the Gariahat Flyover the other day. While it poured. Perched with perfect strangers. To my left were two guys having some telebhaja with lebu chaa. You should have seen them as they sipped the tea and took the first puff at their cigarettes. The sheer relish. Two old men sat playing chess. And many stood around them-faces filled with speculations. The cars honked and passed by.

I closed my eyes. And listened. To the pouring rain. To the car screeches. The beeps. The animated conversations. The splashing water. The jilted lover. Listened to my city. To my noisy city. To the City noises. The noise of life. To the pouring rain.


I once went for a swim and it started raining hard. I took a dip and listened. From under the water. The fishes listened too. They looked at me and went away. One even came and pecked me on my leg. Water pouring on water. Its strange. And beautiful.


Fishes have strange eyes. I have an aquarium. I often watch them. I know they can see me. I know they know me to be the one who gives them food everyday. At times, when i put my hands in the tank to clean the glass or remove something, they are never terrified. I can tell that they know I won't hurt them. I know they trust me. Why, I could almost say they love me. But when I stick my nose against the glass and look at them closely, I never know what they think of me. Their eyes have strange expressions. I never know for sure. It's weird to care for your fish everyday and never know whether they give a damn. Or feel guilty that they don't(in case they don't give a damn, that is). And then you start to wonder whether at all you should have a tank. A tank of fishes that don't love you.


And then the clouds rumble. And you think it's going to rain. It does. And you forget everything.


Oh and did I tell you? I will be doing a paper in my final semester.On my findings on flies. Flies hate rains. I swear.