When I was growing up in our Eskaton house, I used to tell the next door kid that I was from Jupiter, and that last thursday of every month (the day and the planet is the same in Bangla), my real parents take me home in a spaceship. I forgot the boy's name, but he didn't seem to mind, and never challenged this notion. Maybe I was weird enough to be convincing. Or maybe he was laughing on the inside. I'll never know.I haven't really thought about this in the past 10-15 years until I saw the trailer for the new John Cusack movie, Martian Child, about a boy who walks around while living in a box. Watch the trailer yourself, and let me know if you get teary eyed like me. The part which made me relate is the part where John Cusack tells him that his house is just like a box, although bigger than the one he's in right now.
I can't remember much about my childhood. I don't know why (stayed away from hallucinogenic substances, smoking and most other vices all my life). Somewhere, in one of my incarnations, I managed to erase it from my head. I remember reading a lot of books, many of them with adult theme not suitable for my age. My parents were busy with their careers and were, I think, grateful that the hellraiser was alone with books, and didn't pay attention to what I was reading. One of the books responsible for making me a male chauvinist pig is The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir (which I read at age 12, and didn't understand much, obviously). I remember liking trigonometry, when I was reading my sister's book, who was six years older. I remember that we used to play in the compound in front of our house, and I had to take anti-histamin everyday because I was alergic to grass, and would break out after the games (thankfully, I'm not allergic anymore). I remember sitting in front of TV every day at 5.15pm because the cartoon will be on. And I vividly remember wishing out loud before going to bed that some spaceship better rescue me from this place, and take me away.
I saw this TV movie called "The Stranger (1973)" one night where an astronaut wakes up to discover that he's on Terra, the twin planet of earth with three moons, run by totalitarians. And he tries to escape by stealing a space shuttle with the help of a woman, and at the end tragically gets shot down, and stares wistfully at the three moons. I cried when I saw that, although all the IMDb reviews of this movie is negative. Maybe I filled in my own imagination of what it was liked to feel trapped.
There's this key scene in Pretty Woman, which, when I saw the first time made me cry in empathy. Vivian says, (I quote from IMDB)
When I was a little girl, my mama used to lock me in the attic when I was bad, which was pretty often. And I would- I would pretend I was a princess... trapped in a tower by a wicked queen. And then suddenly this knight... on a white horse with these colors flying would come charging up and draw his sword.
And I would wave. And he would climb up the tower and rescue me. But never in all the time... that I had this dream did the knight say to me, "Come on, baby, I'll put you up in a great condo."
Somehow, this scene is resonating with me more these days.
Ever since I got the rejection letter from my Ph.D. application, I've been waking up every day with a sick feeling in my stomach, like, I've been boxed in against my wishes. It's been two/three weeks now, and still every morning, I think, I'll have to spend another year in this box. Multiple things contributed to this, and I could forget most of them. Except, there's this someone who I love (loved?), and who, like in a greek tragedy, did the most irrepairable damage while thinking that the actions were for love. I wake up every day, and find it hard to forgive someone who wants to put me up in a great condo instead of freeing me. Impossible relationships - that's what Richard Gere said. I'm beginning to believe this.
My friend Adam's uncle in Boston was a psychic, and he did a reading for me back in 1994, when I went there for spring break. He said that I was like a hyacinth (I'm paraphrasing), I float comfortably where I'm staying, but I never grow roots into the ground. Once I float off to another place, I comfortably grow there too. The important thing is to ensure that I'm on standing water, and growing under sunlight, and not worry about where I am. After many a failed relationships, and many heartbreaks that would've sent anyone else for the hemlock bottle, I'm beginning to believe uncle Weiss's prediction. I've managed to bloom again, and again, and again.
I like my box, more or less. I've replaced it with bigger boxes every chance I get, so that I do get room to wiggle my head and arms, and occasionally can let others sit inside the box with me. But most of the time, i'm eyeing the sky, wondering when I'll be able to leave this box and fly free.
Or maybe float off to another pond.
