DOESEVERYTHINGHAVETOHAVEANAME?

2010-05-12T12:13:00.001-07:00

I am really really sad and anxious and in despair. I had this sudden urge to hear Ja hariye jay- a Rabindra-sangeet that I had heard only from my music teacher. It is a beautiful song about coming to terms with the losses that assail mortal life. And the melody is equally beautiful and completely in tandem with the lyrics. Now I searched the net for a reliable and faithful rendition of the song but came up with nothing. Faithful adherence to the swaralipi (notation) as put down by Tagore is a must with me, being well aware of and a strong believer of the fact that the full import and beauty of the lyrics and Tagore's genius in writing and composing songs can be comprehended and appreciated only when one follows the notation faithfully. This has been an issue of much debate between me and my friends, thankfully without acrimony. But the fact remains that most of the singers nowadays, even those blessed with a really good voice and marvellous singing capability have taken it upon themselves to work their 'magic' and 'individuality' in the songs of Tagore, openly, audaciously and odiously flouting the notations and sometimes even the lyrics. Why can't these creative people improvise on their own works rather than try and improve on Tagore's? But they are popular because people have now no or very limited access to faithful renditions of Rabindrasangeet. So who's Subinoy Roy, who's Nilima Sen?There's not one song sung by the either of them available on the net. But look for Indrani Sen, look for Srabani Sen- you will be flooded with numerous horribly mutilated renditions of Rabindrasangeet sung by them.

True, many say music obeys no rule. Please let them write their own songs and express themselves to their heart's content. But try obeying rules of Rabindrasangeet for once, diligently, sincerely and if you understand music, it will be evident that the freedom of expression lies not outside the purview of these rules. If we call Tagore a man of all ages, let's be true to our word. Let us take him as our contemporary in his terms.

I'm afraid we'll soon forget what true Rabindrasangeet is.

I think more than sad or anxious, I am angry. Seething in fact.

Here's the lyrics:

Ja hariye jay ta aagle boshe roibo koto aar

Aar parine raat jagte he naath, bhabte anibar.

Achhi ratri dibash dhore duar amar bondho kore

Aste je chay sandehe tay tarai bare bar.

Tai to karo hoyna asa amar eka ghore.

Anandamoy bhuban tomar baire khela kore.

Tumio bujhhi poth nahi pao, eshe eshe firiya jao.

Rakhte ja chai, royna tahao, dhulay ekakar.

2010-04-24T08:09:00.000-07:00

Class tests and Term-papers galore. I hate to let the last week of my life in JU be so hectic that I'm left with no leisure to gather memories enough for later. And though in retrospect, I'll love and sorely miss this excitement of last-minute pouring over books and notes, writing fervently on white sheets of paper against a rough wooden bench, the handwriting deteriorating as the invigilator announces the barely few minutes left in which to cram the major part of the answer, and a sense of jubilation even after a terribly bad exam- right now I believe I'm dying under the pressure And I hate the lack of opportunity and time to indulge in sweet afternoon nostalgia and going over fond, fond memories again and again and again.

2010-04-13T09:47:00.001-07:00

At the cost of sounding EMO, I am now wary of trusting anyone. Everything is just made of words. GODDAMNIT.

2010-04-12T09:35:00.000-07:00

Every relationship demands a transparency, a mutual trust and scope for respect. When either of these demands is not met, the relationship fails. And accepting falsehood and dishonesty is never a condition for ideological flexibility or liberalism. I have always hated lies and I will not compromise even if it means letting go of people I value.

2010-03-31T11:13:00.000-07:00

Today I did two things that made me sad afterwards. As is a common practice with me, I sprinkled water on a friend's face lovingly after washing my hands. And as I was walking down the corridor, I saw a poor little dog turn its face towards me, wagging its tail happily and I sprinkled water on its face! Immediately I felt bad when I saw it cringe away. I apologised and it seemed to understand. It seemed to smile at me and wag its tail more vigorously than before.

And when I was waiting for a bus, a young boy came up to me and said 'Didi ekta chop kine debe?' I gave him the money, but didn't buy him a chop. And for some reason he didn't go up to the fast-food stall and buy what he wanted to. He just kept asking others to buy him a chop. I don't fel strongly for able-bodied beggars, but something about this boy, something about the way he kept staring at the food from a distance, waiting very patiently for someone to buy him food, hurt me. All around the stall there were hungry faces, but shining faces and his was the only greasy, hungry face and lit up only once in a while. My bus came and I didn't wait to see if he ate. I'm sorry.

2010-03-25T13:00:00.000-07:00

People play foul games. Right Left Center. Painful. Tiresome. Bestiality is two minutes away. And never to become man again is a possibility that is eternal.

I'll be your pillow, I'll be your shoulder, I'll be the ear you can whisper into. But I'll not support you. Not when you are wrong. I'll stand by you, I'll believe you, I'll love you still.But I'll not speak for you. Not when you are wrong.

2010-03-22T12:38:00.000-07:00

My M is getting married. When we were very young and we believed in a Utopic world, we decided to give marriage a miss and stay together as 'nuns'. Somehow we thought that being a celibate was equivalent to being a nun. As adolescents, we were less rigorous and I pictured M getting married in an opulent manner, in a carnival of red and gold and saw myself posing as the principal bridesmaid. M is getting married. I am happy for her. I am sad. It feels weird, unsettling to see your best friend marry a man of whom you know so little. M is happy. I'm happy that she's happy. But inside my heart there's this nagging fear of finally having to let go of her.It's a fear of unbelonging. M will make a beautiful bride. She is a beautiful woman. But I won't be there. I could never have imagined not being with her on her wedding day, not sitting tight by her side throughout the day, not eyeing her in-laws with a little apprehension and more abhimaan but I am going on a trip. Somehow it feels better to stay away.

I'm probably horribly selfish and possessive, but M is still so much a part of me, despite the physical distance,that it's almost as bad as alienation from the self. I'll miss the M who has always been such a constant factor in my life. Love you. Wish you a very happy married life.

2010-03-17T11:44:00.000-07:00

Why must I always make sense? I declare I will not.

Saw 4 lovely puppies. Reminds me of a weird song from long ago- a song my friends Sree and Tanusree had made years ago. ' amader birisona sohinididir skirt taane/ skirt taane na pant taane/ke jaane bhai ke jaane'. This text has no basis in any preceding event for its creation and the performance was an exaggerated one for 'Biri' the dog had only just sniffed me and never accosted me in a violent canine fashion . Biri was a dear little dog, despite the obnoxious name.This reminds me of yet another song 'Panapukure snan kore mor sordi legechhe.' The first time we heard this was when Sree and I were seated by the window, trying to pay attention in class, of course in vain. Such poesy lifted us up from the mundane atmosphere of the classroom and allowed us to wiggle through the narrow windows to the music recorder that was playing it. There our souls fluttered around the recorder, like thirsty bees around flowers, or flies over entho. :)

Bajey bokey shanti holo.

2010-02-25T11:23:00.000-08:00

What's 3 weeks to 9 months?

I don't want to understand. I'd much rather sulk and cry.

2010-02-24T03:57:00.001-08:00

It is raining. The green around me has turned a shade darker, wetter and better. I ride huge waves of nostalgia and love for the 23 year old world.

Who on earth would like to study Amilcar Cabral and Benedict Anderson on such a day? I'm sure they themselves wrote these voluminous pages theorising culture and nationalism on nameless, mundane days, not on such green days as today when the world turned a little older than 23.

2010-02-16T11:56:00.000-08:00

This is what terrorism has done to us.

We find a purse lying abandoned near the steps in front of the Worldview Bookstore, a regular hangout of many. We suspect it as a potential carrier of bombs, however minuscule, though it is pink and has teddy bears on it. We try to finish our lunch quickly and move away.

I was taking pictures in the department today, randomly, looking for moments of frivolity in a serious life, and I was focussing on the students in a classroom when the class was in progress. I hear a girl enquiring her friend if I were a terrorist. At other times, this might have sounded funny. Today it didn't.

My friend A, one of the craziest friends I've ever had, one who has pulled my hair innumerable times in class,has hit me with fat books in tutorials, calls up from Madhya Pradesh, his voice taut and helpless at the same time, asking me to take care of myself, because he lost two of his batch-mates in the German Bakery blast. I had never heard him sound so broken.

Nothing changes. Nothing will change. Power will always be a love, stronger than love itself.

2010-02-08T11:55:00.000-08:00

Memory is a yellowing photograph.

2010-02-05T11:23:00.000-08:00

Madness is fun. Madness is fashion. Madness is the sign of genius.

Madness is scary.

Undesirable.

Disorienting.

Take it from me. I'm the mad girl.

Sweet lover

2010-01-27T10:22:00.001-08:00

So why is it that lovers must address each other as 'honey' or 'sugarplum' or 'sweetheart' and such stuff? If I had to call my lover by a name that moistens my mouth and creates just the mood for loads of love and mush wouldn't '4 number gate-er fuchka' be more apt? Or 'Biryani' for that matter? If you insist love is sweet and so is the lover, why I'd much rather call him' kaju-barfi' or 'jilipi' instead of honey or such like. In any case you can have only about a spoonful of honey or sugar before it makes your mouth cloy with a sickly sweetness.

Be original. Remember Pantobhutni.If you must commend the sweetness of your lover, let it be in the name of a sweetmeat you like truly. [ But please rosogolla and mishti doi are way too overused by 'oh-I-love-kolkata-drool-drool-ohthemishtidoiandohtherosogolla!!!' celebrities. But if you must, who am I to stop?]

BON

2010-01-23T04:33:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I am just a huge ball of nerves (Not that I'm huge, why one must have lied shamelessly if he told you I'm huge! Nor am I spherical. Again you misunderstand. All I mean is-sometimes I am just a huge ball of nerves.That's that.) Nerve ends prick the inside of my skin, eager as fishing-hooks to catch the slightest of slights and insults and cold shoulders and you-name-it. In short I become sensitive to insensitivities. God save my friends on those days.(Now I have three classes of friends-college classmates, school friends and club friends. With the latter two this ball of nerves phenomenon occurs very very rarely, if at all. These are the people I'm most comfortable with despite their teasing me ceaselessly on the most delicate of matters. But it would be a falsehood to say I'm not comfortable with my classmates because with some of them I share a rather strong bond and can discuss the most delicate of matters. But most of them are formal, entirely civilised, very prim and propah, horrified at the idea of teasing someone about what one would rather keep a secret... why then am I a ball of nerves around this super-sensitive, uber-sensible bunch?)

So I'm upset if they forget to wait for me at the canteen, or leave without saying bye, or snap at me if I ask why they feel bad...oh you get the drift I'm sure. Now this is extremely idiotic, but at the same time rather painful.

There are also a kind of people whose nerve ends are probably so entangled in zillions of knots that they fail to carry any impulse at all. In short, they are insensitive to sensitivity. Now I could cite instances galore, but would refrain. It's rude to criticise, won't you agree?

(Between you and me, I can't give such examples-was only looking for a chance to say half clever things.:D.)

So on some days I occupy the middle ground and on one such day,because I had asked her to stop rubbing her shoes, each against the other, producing a noisy distraction in class, a classmate glared at me with her really scary glare, , which I failed to notice. :) Lucky!

(That nonplussed poor dear D. isn't this habit of quipping in parentheses rather infuriating? There's only one thing worse than reading stupid quips...Chetan Bhagat is a pro at that-making stupid quips I mean,not reading them. D'UH!! He makes you want to say that every time he tries to make a wisecrack. Okay so getting back to the point-there's only one thing worse than reading stupid quips, that is being told your own quips are stupid. Now dear readers, surely you won't do that to me? REDALERT!! I start feeling like a ball of nerve already!)

Are you a BON yet?

P.S with reference to quip no 3.-I'd like to add that I remember one example at the least-the man driving the car that hit me this saraswati puja. The front wheel kept pressing onto my leg, despite my loud screams. The man just stared vacuously. Poor man! his nerves need stronger medicines than my injury does. Oh, and that part of my leg is now blue and black and red.

2010-01-18T11:58:00.000-08:00

Day before yesterday, on the phone, he said."but you never write of me." and I realised with a pang that indeed I haven't ever written truly about him, my boyfriend, except some rather stupid mushy and to undo the mush, cryptic posts. It has taken me a while to realise that like so many others, like in so many relationships, I have perhaps taken him for granted. I don't always realise the urgency in his across-the hemisphere calls-just to hear my voice, I don't always deal patiently with his need to feel my presence, even virtually before he goes to sleep, whereas he doesn't fail in taking some time out of his uber-busy schedule to call me as many times a day as I want him to. There are so many beautiful little things that he does, so many natural little flourishes here and there to make me smile, even though he can't see me smile across the oceans, so many times that he tells me I'm pretty (which is untrue) and so honestly, so earnestly that I start thinking I'm beautiful... It is he who is really beautiful. But I let him be the mirror and revelled in my beauty, and rarely ever let him revel in his. Strangely I sound like Martha in 'Who's afraid of Virginia Woolf?' I don't know how to end my post. He's the support. I could have lived without him but I don't want to. Love you Souvick.

2010-01-11T10:44:00.000-08:00

I had a nice day. Took some nice shots that made me very happy. The only bad part was getting shouted at by a beggarly woman sitting alone picturesquely, poetically on a small flight of stairs,when I tried to take her photo. The language she used wasn't poetic at all. Very scary in fact it was. I fled.:( Truly, poverty and insanity might seem poetic to us but it is not to those who suffer under their yoke. Sorry woman.

2010-01-08T12:43:00.001-08:00

Seems I was so disturbed by that morbid show I didn't even notice what it's called. It's called Raaz Pichhle Janam Ki and not kahani purvajanam ki. Ekta kapoor hangover. I should go and die. or may be I should go to that show , get analysed and find out why I am neither tall nor pretty. Perturbs me big time. I'm serious.

P.S.-Since he won't read my blog, it's safe to disclose that Sounak is a worse badminton player than I am.:). Readers,believe me.

Mixed bag

2010-01-06T10:37:00.000-08:00

As is normal with me, I have been putting off writing on this blog [spellcheck wants me to change it into glob] though stories, anecdotes and emotions have been piling up inside me, not out of sheer laziness but on the contrary because of my preoccupation with other stuff such as studying,which is not normal with me. So anyway once again this post is doomed to be a mocktale of a number of unconnected events, feelings and opinions which I shall try to concoct while racking my brain frantically for witty comments and hard words.

And that brings to mind by what one would like to call reflex action a professor's wonderfully witty comments about how one should use as many hard words as one can, when young, because one is doomed to forget them later anyway and seeing that the pleasure of using hard words just for the sake of using hard words is comparable to that of having sex for sex's sake, one ought to have a fair share of it early in life. So we laughed gaily for a while today.

Okay so, 3 days into the new semester and I have started studying. Hard to believe as that is, even for me, it's true. And it felt good, to say the truth. Though I'm a little scared I am turning into a nerd, who loves studying just for the sake of it, dreams high, but aims nowhere. So be it. If only I could go on studying all my life. Oh God! that sound horribly nerdy doesn't it? I switch topics.

So Jyoti Basu is grievously ill. And he has been grievously ill before, and has always recuperated steadily and gone back home to celebrate yet another birthday. He's not 95 for nothing . So I hadn't paid much attention to his being sick now. And then this afternoon we heard he was dead. And we checked a blog which mourned his death. We are an unfeeling bunch, we are! [Sadly I'm not even too sad about that. I'm sure we can all be sad when it's really time to be sad.] We were more concerned with the speculation on whether the next day would be declared a holiday . I think I felt a little bad for him- Poor old man! He died...that way. Because all through my growing years I had heard not really pleasant things about the man and being as uninterested in Politics as I am (shamefacedly) I never bothered to clarify unbiasedly .By the time I left for home, all of us were sure the former chief minister of Bengal had secured us at least one holiday. Back at home the TV channels confirmed otherwise. It was a nasty rumour! Nasty indeed it was! Besides killing a dying old man before his time, it had deluded us into a happily tranquil state that is only possible to attain when one gets a sudden holiday in the middle of the week, the cause notwithstanding.

Buk bhora asha dhuk kore nibhe jaoa and all that!

I played badminton after ages yesterday! Lost both sets, but not without a fight! However puny my stature, however diminutive my frame I put up a fight yes![Not that it helped much, my opponents helped me better] And now

My right arm aches

My right hand aches

My back aches

My right leg aches

My left leg aches.

But I love the ache!! It makes me happy.

I admit kahani Purvajanam ki is a show that spooks me. I cannot entirely disbelieve it, nor can I accept it wholly. Mostly the stories are traumatic and the analyseds seem to be suffering during the process which makes it all the more difficult for me to dismiss them as complicit in the TRP boosting conspiracy, if there is any. It seems to be an irrational, illogical void. I myself sort of believe in birth-cycles whether instinctively or otherwise.Or may be only to dissuade myself from thinking too much about Death, which I already obsess about, to the point of morbidity. When I was young I had a belief that I was a female trapeze performer.Whether it was an original imagination- using the term in the sense of its image-forming aspect- or I had appropriated it from a story book is a question my memory can not be trusted to answer faithfully. But the show is about death and strange coincidences and it disturbs me no end.

Tunna is recharged by sucking her tiny little thumb. Tunna says the sweetest 'ta-ta' ever. Tunna is the naughtiest baby ever. Also the petukest ever. I am her fan. But she'll grow up soon.:(

Some days I feel so full of love that I find two perfectly ordinary men speaking to each other a lovely sight!

Old people without teeth look amazingly cute. I do not mean to be unfeeling.

Oh, and May seems so much nearer from this side of 2009. May is a nice month.:) Much better than August.

Emosonal atyachar?

Goodnight.

2009-12-31T05:44:00.000-08:00

A man came today and took away the monitor of our computer. Something had happened to the picture tube. The screen would suddenly blinker, grow darker and then fade. White bands would dissect the screen-white lines whiter than the snow-blanket clad farm of mine on Facebook. And Baba said it was time we got rid of the old monitor and got a bigger, better, flatter, snazzier one. I couldn't wait for the new monitor to arrive. But when the man came today, in a rather modest attire, it was so sudden and I was so unprepared that I dismissed him as the grocery man. Probably I thought that the chic monitor demanded a more stylish man. And suddenly I felt bad for my old monitor, that had been with us since we were in the 12th standard. I helped the man detach and disentangle its cords. He set the new one up, had a cup of tea and left, with the other one packed inside a cardboard box. I'll forget about it in a couple of days, I'm sure. But now the computer table seems wider, the picture on the screen more distinct, bigger. The result is better no doubt but I have this tiny clot inside that refuses to let me feel happy and agree whole-heartedly with Baba when he praises the new monitor. Weird sentimentalism for something I didn't even pay much attention to when it was there. Strangely I don't feel the same way about this year which will be cast away to give place to the first year of the new deacde in less than four hours. This year has taught me a lot. It has made me grow up. Which is why perhaps I am not quite half as sentimental about it. Anyway Happy New year to all of you out there. May you miss 2010 on the eve of 2011.

2009-09-09T12:07:00.000-07:00

Fragility, is another name for life.

And death is the darkness at the other end of the tunnel of life, not all parts of which are illuminated with equal brightness-some parts may be darker than what awaits the end of the passage.

Years, fly a little slow. Let me yet touch my childhood without straining my outstretched fingers. Childhood,do not yet die. Memories, do not slip like silk from my clutch. Dreams, hold on a little longer. Weariness, delay a little on your way.

Why am I this morbid?

*Thunks head on poor wall*

The Rhododendron sanctuary in Hilley, when the trees are in full bloom, looks heavenly I've been told and I must visit Jorethang once more. For as long as I live, Jorethang will never leave my dreams.

2009-08-24T10:40:00.000-07:00

I desperately need someone, something or some event to make me happy and keep me happy till I do not itch to plunge head down into a pool of wallowing sorrow, and monkharapkora again. Making me laugh for an hour or so counts, but I want something bigger and better and longer than that. Oishee isn't here to make things better. And even when she does make a fleeting appearance, the 'fleetingness' takes the joy of seeing her away and the moment of genuine joy passes hurriedly. I never thought one person could make such a huge difference.

Alone in a crowd. Only books sustain me.

Anyway, people have been complaining about my morbidity. Rightly so too! God! Had my writings been someone else's and not mine, I'd have definitely winced at the high morbidity quotient. Then again, I might not have. Most people find Plath morbid and I adore her. Positively worship her. However that isn't a case that furthers my argument. Morbidity minus genius is painful. Poor you few, rare, hapless readers!

Networking sites disgust me! Or is it really because I interact little with the hyperactive networkers and am generally ignored, rarely gathering comments or appreciations? The 'in-crowd' repels me, probably because I don't belong there. Gossipmongers irritate me and drive me into a shell. And I have serious issues against back-biting, spinelessnes, backstabbing and smoke.

Presumably I'm not having the best time of my life because inspite of being short-sighted as I am and happy to be happy (though this post wouls suggest to the contrary), I can see my faults too. And trust me life isn't easy when you can see your faults and become painfully aware of

your shortcomings.

I suppose I've got to work on myself. Thank God, you are still there despite me being as I am.

Bon Voyage

2009-08-02T09:16:00.000-07:00

July this year was the shortest ever. So were these one and something years. Shorter than a day.You have been wonderful. :). Best of luck. And lots of love (more than this expression expresses). We'll do fine, D'uh.

p.s. I'll call you when I lose my way, and when I'm very happy, and when I'm terribly upset, and when I'm buying something for somebody,and when I've written anything new, and whenever I want to, and whenever you want me to, and even whenever you haven't told me so. you, I know will do the same and more.

2009-06-15T10:56:00.000-07:00

Little glimpses of hell in a masquerade. I have lost my way and do not know how to sail through. Masks never remain constant. They change faces. Just when you think you've grown used to a face and started holding on to it as if it were the only branch however weak and tiny, on that barren crag you are hanging from...it changes its contours. People moult too. I don't know the ones around me. They have all moulted. Where do I run?

shob chhere palate ichhe korchhe. So tired.

Letting go.

2009-05-24T08:53:00.000-07:00

It's difficult. Awfully. Especially when you aren't least aware that you have to, that situations have so alligned themselves that you just have to whether you want or not. On second thoughts letting go isn't difficult when you want to. Dumb sentence, the previous one. But one must grow used to it, over the years. But some seem never to get the hang of the thing. It only grows worse. I have had to let go of so many, I wish I didn't have to, ever. I still hang on to the hope that they will come back. It's not all that difficult if you fall out of love, I hardly ever do, not with friends.

I hope I never had to let you go A, I was so so fond of you, still am. Now when we talk I am dead scared that you might think I am just trying to be sociable, just trying to put up an effervescent front so as not to give vent to all the hurt stored in piles inside. I hope you see that I still love you a lot.
I wish I never had to let you go, either, A. You were the dearest sister ever, loved more than you could ever comprehend. I remember fondly how you used to cuddle up to me, tell me every little thing that mattered to you, wherever we went you used to come and sit by me. I can see that you love me still, but we aren't close anymore. And do you know it hurts! Awfully. When I have to choose between a sister and another, and I don't, I just lose one. I just wish I never had to concede that loss. But will you ever see? And will you ever understand that I never moved away, never wanted to, all I needed was a little time? We still love each other, I know, but where's the warmth gone? where's the unrestraint?
And you S, my best friend, my brother,the one who could say anything to me and I to him, critique each other openly...I have had to let you go because you would stick to some whims of yours, without even realising you weren't helping yourself, me or anybody for that matter, or perhaps realising but sticking to those whims nonetheless. I miss those hours of talking, my turning to you for support, your telling me everything. Hope everything gets better.
And you S, you grew so cold, so frozen, I was bewildered, hurt, couldn't understand a thing, never got a reply when I asked you. Now we have been trying to make up for all that, but do you know how obviously 'tried' it seems when you show your concern in a situation, in which, had it happened before our fallout you would have done much much more for me. But I don't mind. At least you try. At least I matter that much.
Now I am even scared of loving my friends too much. I'm always in for a separation. I believe I am at fault too, but I wish you guys would just trust my words and just step into my shoes for a while and see how I felt and feel. Hurt, lost, depressed. Nothing fills the blanks, nothing takes the pain away, not for long!

2009-05-13T12:32:00.000-07:00

In less than 40 hours, I have a test to write on the Romantics, who though a favourite group of poets can not sustain much critical and analytical studying and I have a huge inclination to write a post on rain(yes again!), a temptation that I must give into, the Romantics, the test and the late hour not withstanding.
It had rained heavily last afternoon and satiated with my fill of staring out of the window at the ripples making and breaking, overlapping and dissolving anti-climactically, in the green pond and little muddy puddles, I ventured outdoors. The black pitch lane, blacker than usual, wet and sleek, lay before me and as I walked on this winding para path, the tedious and the quotidian came forth in newer shades-subdued and soft, melancholy but not morose. It seemed as if the same yellow house that glazed in the sun, and the tired green leaves that wearily languished over a high boundary-wall, and the dead looking moss on the wall been touched with a wet paint-brush, which despite the agency of softer hues, had infused life in them. I have often wondered if anything can contest the beauty of a cloudy sky silhouetted against which stand canopies of high- reaching trees. I declare, nothing can. The grey sky, with its cloud cover kept reminding me of Pelling and the walks under a very low sky on the winding, sinuous roads that I undertook more than a year ago. yesterday I kept returning to those walks through clouds,swathed in layers of warm clothing, when the only assailable body parts of mine that the clouds could touch mischievously were my uncovered nose and mouth, through which I had swallowed a little cloud, in a bid to sing at the beauty surrounding me. If I could only return to Pelling once again.
Sometimes I should paint Sikkim on this blog, before it gets written off my mind, however unlikely that may be.

2009-05-11T12:29:00.000-07:00

And finally it rained!! And how it rained! I am grinning, grinning, singing, grinning.All the time it rained today the ends of my lips remained stretched to their last limit-you can draw a perpendicular to the limit points on either side from the ear-side limits of my eyes-and my facial muscles hurt. BUTDOIGIVEADAMN!!! ITRAINED!!! The only time I stopped smiling was when this arrogant, rude man refused to budge from near us and smoked to his cursed lungs' peril even after we told him that we had a problem with smoke, and claimed that he would do so because the shed(actually a building under construction) we had taken refuge under belonged to him! I wish Dr.Slop could read out from Bishop Ernulphus's book of excommunication and insert his name(whatever it is) in place of Obadiah's. And I met my best friends today, after a long time and spent a lot of time with the chubby bunny. And my best friend had a good news to report. And I am happy.
Oh thou happy happy raindrops!
Oh thy blessed purity.
arghh!
Whatever.

Ultrasentimentalcrap.

2009-04-26T11:40:00.000-07:00

So once upon a time you were friends...of mine. you, you, you, you and you. Good friends, great friends. Friends to swear by, friends to stand by. And I had great confidence in myself and you...all of you, that nothing will change, ever, if anything(/one) does that won't be either of us. And I basked in the glory of our friendship, let my spirits be high with love for you, filled my head with words you said, delayed my walks back home and so did you...all of you. And then this nothingness. And then this void. Would it help to take each of our friendships apart and see where it went wrong? Would it help even if we did find that precise point and talked at length about it? I did. You did. You did. You did. You did. We did. You and I did not. Not clearly. We didn't know. I didn't dare go back and dwell on the one moment that destroyed it all. But you and I were two parts of the same world. Or so I thought. You never did.
So that world where you and I belonged, has been closed by a door. And there's rust and a lock on it. And I wouldn't open it, not once more. I wouldn't try to match my footsteps with those in the dust, they won't fit anymore and I want them intact, at least in memory.

It's so darn easy to say so and so has had a heartbreak...like it's some fancy toy or a porcelain bowl a corner of which has chipped off, when in truth, hearts don't break, not for ever. But something dies. Gradually. Inside. And there's a huge load on your chest and a lump in your throat and defunct lip muscles. And there's no reason why you should wake up the next morning just as there's no reason why people should tell you to forget, when everyone knows darn well it isn't easy to forget when everyone is actually helping you remember, rather than forget. And then one day you do. You wake up and go about your ways and don't even realise that you haven't thought of him/her even once. Wow, you think, you've moved on. Moving on comes easy to girls -some one told me once. I wish you were true. It'll hurt baby, It'll ache. And I can't do anything to take it away and I won't try. Just let it be. Sometimes when you need to cry badly, for no apparent reasons, blame it all on this one quiescent pain. And cry.

So there, I've lost a friend, a friend, a friend, a friend and a best friend. Mustn't have been worth it? But I have you, and you, and you, you, you,you. Thank God for you.

p:s- erm...mush, crap.Whatever!

2009-04-23T09:17:00.000-07:00

I admit. It's my fault. I cross lines too easily, trust too easily, believe too easily that people will reciprocate my feelings, expect witha stupid conviction that they will try to understand me like I try to understand them. Serves me right! One doesn't have any right to stay this naive and stupid anymore. Time I grew up.

2009-04-07T12:13:00.000-07:00

I've got such a lot to say that the enormity of the volume of words that seethe inside puts me off the track, benumbs my fingers and makes my key-board recalcitrant. Will write later.

2009-03-23T11:13:00.000-07:00

Nothing ever gets better. Never! If I could only run away from everything, everybody around me. Because I try and try and in the process forget spontaneity but failure chases me. Not a moment of being what I am, without a feeling of guilt and defeat.Nothing remains.

2009-02-11T10:20:00.000-08:00

If there's something I desperately want now, it is to write. To write endlessly and without a care or even a thought about what I'm writing. And write a poem after what I think must be ages, and a good poem for which I wouldn't have to try hard at all...easy like ink flows from a nice gel pen...a smooth green ink that shines a little against a white paper pregnant with possibility and breathless with anticipation...winding letters, small upright letters, little letters. Whether writing should be for the sake of writing or a cathartic exercise I haven't been able to decide. Just a series of words, side by side, sibling like, lover like, discrete, disparate, lonely...connected by an imposition they can only silently and mostly ineffectually rebel against. Does a smile and a laughter seep inside and travel deep inside through the narrow glacial arteries and reach the head-quarters of all emotions 'the heart' and down to the little toe nail? Imposition and appropriation and alienation are not just heavy sounding common words, they are the aftermaths of colonisation...mainly of intellect. I hope my resistance holds.

2009-01-29T11:30:00.000-08:00

People say they have reasons that keep them going...big reasons...small reasons. Wonder why I keep going though, with reason or without. Most probably because I can't but keep going and I would, if I could stop, put an end to, terminate every business of 'going','moving','living'.
Waking up to the same old selfish angry world that claws and gnaws with its multi-coloured talons, squirming under the harmless looking baggages of expectation and then this self that is given to paroxysms and hysterical rage that builds inisde, seethes inside and then goes back to dormancy...inside...never an outlet, never an outburst that helps , fighting, fighting, fighting with itself and others...to sleep is to die...I wish. And familiar faces and familiar endearments,familiar names and limited free association, familiarity everywhere and such frozen oceans of difference in between...I am running inside a wheel. Nice looking familiar faces with unconditional love make me uncomfortable but they guard my peaceful sleep anyway. Thanks. I love words. They are the prefect examples of detachment.

I am black, bleak and blank
with layers piled in stacks
...cement of neglect
in between.
Do you see a tiny flame?
you imagine I'm sure.
It's all soot,
it's all ash
of a flame that once was.
All left now is a ghostly wick.

2009-01-07T21:41:00.000-08:00

Bad, Sad, Mad.

2008-12-26T05:15:00.000-08:00

And I thought it's tougher for those who stay back when somebody dear and precious bids a goodbye...because they are still surrounded by things and places all of which trigger chains of past events and bittersweet memories...and cocooned in a flimsy, misty wrapper of memory they stop collecting tits and bits to store for retrospection anymore...so it's only the past and glimpses of an imagined future while the present wheezes past!

So I thought it's easier to shake a hand, drop a tear, paint a dilute smile and say goodbye.

But it's not. It hurts to say 'bye', trying hard to not look into eyes, and make nothing of the moment the fingers touch and brush away a hint of tear from the eyes and the voice while making sure in vain one doesn't notice. And then one starts living in the memories that seem truer and dearer and lets the present wheeze by...

I am making an issue out of nothing and I am afraid the mush quotient might get on the nerves of my very few readers, so I end my post here. Erm...I'm off to Orissa for a week or so on vacation.

2008-11-27T00:17:00.000-08:00

And why why why why why!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Why you cowards! Why you brutes! Why do you open fire on a bunch of unarmed innocent people? why do you kill???? Since when have you started believing that you are gods of destruction and harbingers of welfare and a people of a grand new world! GOD DAMN YOU ALL! Why do you channelise such a lot of energy, dedication, single-mindedness in something that is so destructive? How can you sleep at night? How can you ever look straight into the eyes of someone you love? Do you ever have a moment of peace, do you ever see a spectacle of beauty? Can you listen to a child's cry without blaming yourslef? How is it that you have turned yourselves into such unfeeling death-vending automatons? How is it that blood and gore no more churn your insides? For every man you kill, you kill a thousand more and perhaps you don't even realise that you killed yourself the first time you killed one.

Deliver us God, from this abyss of helplessness. We don't want strength to endure but to resist and counter.

May you rest in peace!

2008-11-07T10:23:00.000-08:00

On some days there's so much beauty around, such an absurdly huge amaount of poetry flowing in the air, I almost choke with joy. On somedays tears glisten and gleam on my face soothing the tempestuous insides that seethe in a beautiful fury of emotions...Oh God, sometimes I wish I could die...so that beauty is the last thing before my eyes and on my mind.

Sometimes I wish I could do away with this irascible, interminable rage of mine that engulfs me and blurs my vision, sometimes I wish I could be beautiful and normal...and not so claustrophobic.

2008-11-05T11:31:00.000-08:00

You fill up my senses
like a night in the forest
like the mountains in springtime,
like a walk in the rain
like a storm in the desert,
like a sleepy blue ocean
you fill up my senses,
come fill me again.

Come let me love you,
let me give my life to you
let me drown in your laughter,
let me die in your arms
let me lay down beside you,
let me always be with you
come let me love you,
come love me again.
-John Denver
I couldn't write anything better for you.

2008-11-04T11:11:00.000-08:00

These days you can trsut nobody. Not even friends. My sister entrusted her money-purse to a long time friend of ours, Basu. And can you believe it...he stole Rs. 20 out of the poor trusting girl's purse! Fie on you Basu, fie!
Readers, if you know Basu or you don't (well now you do), don't trust him with your purse. Don't even keep them lying here and there...Basu's always on the prowl.
:D
Like it?

2008-10-16T11:59:00.000-07:00

For every (wo)man every moment passes, each moment has a next moment to it, untill he dies.

Some people are built so differently, and neither parentage nor environment can be proclaimed responsible for that, their goodness is an innate quality, something they are born with, something they will die with...and sometimes we are fortunate enough to meet such people who would not be pointedly good but we get the point somehow and we are sad we aren't all that good, but we try nevertheless. Thank God for those few good (wo)men.

This is a piece of poetry I heard somewhere. Loved it. Can anyone tell me who wrote it?

Hawa boye shonshon
tara ra kanpe
hridoyeo ki jong dhore
purono khap e?

I offer no excuse for my randomness.

2008-10-11T08:08:00.000-07:00

I ought to write something but I am suffering from a major writer's block. Can't write a thing. So I'm gonna take some time off.
By the way, Pujo's been good. But it came and went before I could blink and say 'floccinaucinihilipilification'. I think it's becaue you've been around.Thank you. You've made things so different and everything a shade brighter.
Shubho Bijaya!

2008-09-20T10:43:00.000-07:00

Initially love excites, then it protects.

Rainrainrainrainrainrainrainrainrainarain...

2008-09-13T07:26:00.000-07:00

I walked in the rain today.:D.Willingly(will have to pretend otherwise).
Loved it.
Loved it.
Loved it.
And when I was in the auto the tangential rain wet me thoroughly, and the plastic sheet that was being used as a rain-shield refused to comply with their (the auto-driver's and my co-passengers') wishes and flapped itself madly. Oh, I loved every moment of it. And through the rain-dotted windscreen I could see the sky, wrapped in grey and what seemed white in contrast approaching us.Erm...I felt downright romantic...and somewhat like a Bollywood masala movie heroine...And I was reminded of Sikkim...the wet afternoon, the softened, sad light,me feeling happy as can be...Sikkim is so breathtakingly beautiful!! Funny how almost everything reminds me of Sikkim. I'd give anything for another trip to Sikkim, but I don't think I ought to go back. It might spoil the charm, I might raise my expectations too much! I must write about Sikim sometime. Those green hils, those sinewy roads, the little bridge in Jorethang, the moonlight, Varsy top, Kanchenjunga in the white moonlight,the long, long trek...THOSE WERE THE BEST DAYS OF MY LIFE!!

NO! Kheyedeye mota howa does NOT top the chart of my priorities, thank you very much! whatever!

And if you find this post random, blame it on the rains.They upset my chemical balance everytime they pay me a visit. But hey, I'm not complaining.I am very very very happy...(till parents come to know of my complicity in the forbidden act).

2008-08-29T08:47:00.000-07:00

Right now, I am torn between three options of relaxing myself-blogging, watching Norbit on HBO, lying on the bed in my dark room, the mixed sounds of raindrops hitting the pool and wet leaves rustling and rain hitting hard on the cemented courtyard and the window-pane, entering me. I chose blogging over the others though the last one allures me so badly that I might stop right in the middle of a post and head towards my room.

But I need to talk.

Words have an expurgating effect, like rain. An exorcising effect. Sometimes when you are frightened, oppressed by the tyranny of a ceratin thought that refuses to leave you in peace, try words. Words hurt, words heal...like time and rain...and friends and truth sometimes.

Truth has a strange nature. It hurts and yet truthfulness is a coveted virtue. And then again, truth is multi-faceted , many-layered and relative. I try sticking to the truth. I violate truth for my conveniences, to cover-up for my carelessness, my reluctance in co-operating with my parents on issues of food and medicine. And even that makes me feel guilty. But if it's for someone else's life, should I or should I not violate the truth, if need be? Even white lies are lies.

This is just a stupid and random post. So don't bother.

2008-08-19T08:28:00.000-07:00

I walk back home. The short, narrow pot-holed path to my home seems longer than usual, my bag heavier. I'm fingering the straps of my book-laden bag about to split at the seams as I splash through puddles and get splashed by speeding cars with blinding headlights that don't care a thing about my existence. I sit looking out of the auto on my way back home. The wind slams on my face and I cringe. I gather the loose starnds of hair from my sweaty face and tuck them behind my ears. The bill-boards outside shine bright. The earplugs in my ears belt songs one after the other and I lose track. I study faces and search for faces on the windows of the high-rises. I like the fact that they are indistinguishable from this far, that they are tiny blotches of indistinct colours. I turn to look at my co-passenger. There isn't a pair of dark brown eyes,watching over my trance-like state, drinking in every minute change in my expressions. Every song makes me cry. I swallow my sudden urge to hold a hand and cry like a child like I swallow my words and put them to sleep.

2008-08-06T10:57:00.000-07:00

Thank you all for loving me so much. Thank you for being there always.
Thank you for your love.
:)
I'm just plain happy. Touchwood.

2008-08-03T11:36:00.000-07:00

Over the past few months, I have entered quite a number of phone-numbers in my mobile phonebook. No, I haven't made new friends. I have retained old ones. Many of my friends have shifted base. JU has become the university they used to study in, Kolkata, the place they'll return to , to spend their short vacations... perhaps or never at all. And I go on adding city names beside their names on my phonebook, entering their new phone-numbers, hoping they wouldn't become as alien as these new patterns of digits. It's hard to let go. It's harder to stay back and wait.

2008-07-31T04:44:00.000-07:00

Ages since I got a letter! So send me a letter. You, if you will. Will you?
Your smile rubs the signs of sorrow off my face and you make me smile...just like magic!
Purity and bliss.
So smile and write me a letter.
:)

2008-07-27T23:07:00.000-07:00

Yes, it hurts. It shouldn't but it does.

2008-07-06T11:35:00.000-07:00

There's a little sad song inside me, that plays according to its whims and moods. It can start playing anywhere, anytime...on rainy nights,in moments of intense happiness,during lonely strolls in the terrace, while reading a beautiful poem...and I let it play.
My song has the melody of a pan-flute playing in the distant blue hils on which a scrim of silver mist descends when the orange in the sky deepens into a melancholic violet. I ride on the waves of its notes, plunge inside myself or surrender to a state of nebulousness and let the world fuse into me.
I like happy songs and love people who sing them for me. But no happy song could ever replace this little sad song that I have, the one I can never sing, the one that leaves my eyes moist and my throat aching, the one that will never fade away.

2008-07-03T11:02:00.000-07:00

I really have nothing to write other than some very mundane facts and an overtly sentimental narrative and dried poempetals...which I will refrain from, for my sake and others'.
Incidentally this is my third attempt at writing a post today.
That's about it.
I am drained but not unhappy and hence not complaining.

2008-06-19T12:54:00.000-07:00

You are walking slowly on a black road glistening with rain. At regular intervals yellow light from the tall streetlamps falls on the black road making it shine. A light drizzle touches your skin...amorously. The earphone plugged to your ears is belting out...'Dil se re'.
Suddenly you want to turn your face upwards and close your eyes and let the rain kiss your face gently. Suddenly you want to outstretch your arms and lose yourself. Suddenly you want to mingle your tears with the drops of rain running down you face.
Suddenly it feels like love.

2008-06-17T07:34:00.000-07:00

June 2008 is the longest month ever!! It doesn't want to end! :(

2008-06-13T10:55:00.000-07:00

Hey you three,
Chances are you guys will never even know I wrote this for you. But now that you all are going away and it'll be ages before I see you again, I just want to tell you I love you all...a lot. So a few lines to each of you.

Sayori- You are one person time will never make me forget. You and I met on the first day of college and stuck together for 3 years, saw a lot together, did a lot together, went through a lot together. We've had differences...glaring ones...but I have always had this feeling that deep down inside we are very alike...you are the worldly-wise, sensible, practical version of my emotional dreamer self...the person I could turn to when I lost my stuff ( admit cards and heart alike). If we were asked to choose from an array of letters you and I would pick up the same ones, make the same words and compose different sentences. You introduced me to Toni Morrison, ways of this world and JUPC. These three years have unravelled you to me little by little...and I know now how you feel what you feel and why you feel. I don't claim to like everything about you...but I understand your logic and your philosophies now, you have always been very sure of which. I haven't told you ever, you are a person with immense potential and I believe you have the right amount of ambition to do justice to it. Shine on Shy.I have so much to tell about you but words aren't the perfect medium. Love you.

Sayak- You are the brother I never had...my best friend, my confidante, my patient listener, my loving counsellor I can not even dare to imagine my days without you. You make me laugh. You irritate me to the point of insanity. You crib. You nag. You behave stupidly.But your philosophy about life amazes me, so do your sense of humour and your keen power of observation. You hardly have a word of praise for my writings but I am a fan of your poems. You have touched my life in a way few have. you are always, always, always there not only when I am down and out but when I am happy and rejoicing. There hasn't passed a day when we haven't fought but we always put them behind us don't we? There's only one thing to ask of you, now that you are going so far away...be my friend always.Love you Doggy.( don't even think of retorting!)

Arko- Hey Baba,you are simply wonderful! Did I ever tell you that? You can't expect me to, can you! what with our mock fights and your Rag-the madgirl motto! Thank God you haven't seen my "dispooted" blog. Thank God you don't search for updates here. Since you'll never stumble upon this blog of mine it's safe to disclose that I feel sad that we hadn't met earlier, I feel sad that you are going away, I feel terrible thinking about the Arkoless adda sessions that will follow and that there will be nobody to pull my leg and send me home fuming and seething. Will miss you horribly. Love you(grudgingly).

Here's to the three of you.
Love
sohini.

2008-06-06T04:42:00.000-07:00

I had to write something! Anything! At times I think I suffer from hypergraphia...err...not quite...erm... may be an obssessive compulsive writing disorder...whatever!!!
Okay so I am drawing up the list of books I should read before my classes start again.

1. One hundred years of solitude.
2. My name is Red.
3. The journals of Sylvia Plath.
4. Three men in a boat.
5. The trial.
6. Julius caesar.
7. The Devil and Miss Prym.
8. Great Expectations.
9. Jao pakhi.
10. Duurbeen.

Chances are I'll never finish any of them. Argghhhh!!!

2008-05-26T04:21:00.000-07:00

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!
*DHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP*
AAAA ...AAAA...AAAA...AAAA.

No points for those of you that think that I am referring to the much-laughed and much publicised popular joke about the sound emitted by a freely falling body [read human being] being directly proportional to the height of fall.

Oh okay, I shall substantiate. Here's the joke for the uninitiated.
Case 1. person falling from the twelfth floor of a high-rise.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
curtailed by a resounding *DHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP*
[Note that *Dhup* is a very Bengali sound equivalent to the English *crashing sound*]

Case 2. Person falling from the first floor of any building.
*DHUUUUUUUUP*
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.

But none of these cases complement the sound image I have drawn at the beginning of my post.
I'll explain.
Let's divide the problem into three parts.

a)AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!
b)*DHUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUP*
c)AAA ...AAAA...AAAA...AAAA.

a)-That's my neighbour's obstinately rambunctious daughter shouting out in glee for God-forsaken reasons.
b)That's a resounding slap on her back imparted by one of her parents, I know not which.[ Thank God they sometimes feel disturbed and react savagely! Pity we can't react thus to them inspite of being disturbed always and unceasingly. Love thy neighbours indeed!!]
c)That's the child bawling.

Reason enough for another headache!!
On the same note: Some Paresh Rawal quotes are unutterably accurate for such moments as these!

2008-05-20T08:56:00.000-07:00

To think that my most beautiful dream could come true so beautifully!!
Now I have a truly beautiful and a beautifully true dream, thanks to a wonderful magician.
:).

2008-05-19T05:06:00.000-07:00

Words have changed. Meanings too. And the emotions they used to arouse.It's a different world now. I'm too starry-eyed to see if it's better or worse...perhaps it's just the same...only I have more courage to face it now, more confidence, more freedom. Touchwood! :)
And I'm nearly a graduate now.Touchwood! :)
There!! I am growing superstitious!

2008-05-14T12:50:00.000-07:00

I have a little c in the middle of nowhere.It's only mine and for me only.I'm flying.

2008-05-10T00:31:00.000-07:00

8 Things I am passionate about:

Love

Poetry

Friends andFamily

Psychology

Babies

Fashion-designing

Photography

Music

...not necessarily in that order, but love tops the chart.

8 Things I wanna do before I die:

Make my parents really happy.

Be a deservingly(I hope) famous poet.

Earn loads of money.

See to it that those bloody bastards who abuse little children and women get corporal punishments.

Make laws against spitting on road.

Be happy and in love.

Make it up with people I've hurt, intentionally or unintentionally.

Make proper human beings out of my children.(heh heh)

8 Things I say often

Awww!!

Hyaan Hyaan!

Bloody hell!

yay!!

But that's not fair!

DUH!!

HUH!!

Puchithang.

8 Books I have read recently:

Persuasion

The Alchemist

If you are afraid of heights.

Fire on the mountains.

The Outsider

A street car named desire

Three plays:Eugene O'neil.

Loitering with Intent.

8 Songs I could Listen to over and over again:

Ami Srabon akashe oi diyechhi paati.

Aji godhuli logone ei badol gogone.

Hridoy aamr prokash holo ananto akashe.

Ogo tumi ponchodoshi.

Aji tomay abar chai shonabare je katha shunayechhi baarebaare.

Annie's song

Mera jahaan.

Tu hi re.

(There are so many more. Rabindrasangeet mainly, and songs by Rahman)

8 Things that attract me about my best friends:

Simplicity.

Innocence.

Unconditional love.

Will be there for you, anytime, anywhere- attitude.

Genuine concern.

Non-stop paglami and baje boka.

Understanding each other without having to say things out aloud.

Being different without having differences.

8 People who should do this tag:

Sree

Basu

Honey

Indra

Ashu

Anurima

Deya

Bunky.

Tag

2008-05-08T12:20:00.000-07:00

Inihos tagged me. I tag none. Here goes.

1.LAST MOVIE YOU SAW IN A THEATER: Kalpurush. Please don't watch it.

2. WHAT BOOK ARE YOU READING?- My Name Is Red

3. FAVORITE BOARD GAME? err...Ludo? Chess is good but I never win.

4. FAVORITE MAGAZINE? Graphiti. Nothing in particular really.

5. FAVORITE SMELLS? Old books, Napthalene, Freshly painted doors, knacha aam, babar gaayer gondho.

6. FAVORITE SOUND? My name being called out by loved ones.

7. WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD? Feeling that you are mediocre.

8. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE? Fragmented dreams.

9. FAVORITE FAST FOOD PLACE? Roadside junk food stalls.

10. FUTURE CHILD'S NAME? .Child? I was planning to have children!

11. FINISH THIS STATEMENT. "IF I HAD A LOT OF MONEY I'D end up with no money at all within a few days.

12.DO YOU DRIVE FAST? I drive people crazy pretty fast.

13. DO YOU SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL? Yeah. Two teddy bears and a doggy.

14. STORMS-COOL OR SCARY? Sublimely beautiful.

15. WHAT WAS YOUR FIRST CAR? Never had one, not even as a child.

16. FAVORITE DRINK? Water, sprite, nimbupaani.

17. FINISH THIS STATEMENT, "IF I HAD THE TIME I WOULD be the same old procrastinator.

18. DO YOU EAT THE STEMS ON BROCCOLI? What? why? how? where?

19. IF YOU COULD DYE YOUR HAIR ANY COLOR, WHAT WOULD BE YOUR CHOICE? Burgundy.

20. NAME ALL THE DIFFERENT CITIES/TOWNS YOU HAVE LIVED IN. Beldanga, Kolkata.

21. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?, Tennis, Spelling Bee.

22. ONE NICE THING ABOUT THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU. Bright as a flame.

23. WHAT'S UNDER YOUR BED? makorshar jaal ar jhhul.

24. WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE BORN AS YOURSELF AGAIN? Yes, a little more practical perhaps.

25. MORNING PERSON, OR NIGHT OWL? Night owl.

26. OVER EASY, OR SUNNY SIDE UP? eh?

27. FAVORITE PLACE TO RELAX? I think it's all in the mind.

28. FAVORITE PIE? None.

29. FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR? Vanilla.

30. OF ALL THE PEOPLE YOU TAGGED THIS TO, WHO'S MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND FIRST? None.

2008-05-06T12:35:00.000-07:00

I search for a soul-stirring emotion... an incident, a word, a glance, a touch that would induce it. Sometimes I need something to shake me into being...to help me comprehend that I'm alive.
Winter rain is more welcome, I think, unlike summer rain which comes only to exculpate so many...winter rain is more personal, whimsical, without a reason, more me.

2008-04-30T11:37:00.000-07:00

One can not fall in love with perfection, but when in love, one considers oneself , the love and the loved one to be perfect.
True love will always be imperfect, rife with flaws and utterly human.

Entirely my opinion, anyone is free to unsubscribe.

2008-04-24T11:45:00.000-07:00

Sometimes it so happens that a song or a tune or even a word catches hold of my attention and refuses to let go. It keeps on playing inside my head and sometimes becomes synonymous with my perception and conception of beauty. So has happened with this Rabindrasangeet that I was singing in the evening today. Though I have sung it many times before, the song in all it's beauty surrendered to me only this evening. I have made an attempt to translate it, keeping to the translation word-by-word method, because translating Tagore by the sense of his song is beyond me,I humbly admit.

Deep nibhe gechhe momo nishithosameer e

Dheere dheere eshe tumi jeo na go fire.

E pothe jokhon jabe aandhaare chinite pabe

Rajanigandhaar gondho bhorechhe mandir e.

Amare poribe mone kokhon shey laagi

Prohore prohore ami gaan geye jaagi

Bhoy pachhe shesh raat e

ghum ashe aankhi paat e

Klanto kontthe mor sur furaay jodi re.

here follows my translation

My lamp has extinguished, in the nightly breeze.

Quietly you tread, in soft unheard steps.

O do not turn back and walk away!

When you walk this path, in the darkness of night

By the fragrance of rajanigandha

In the temples by the roadside

You shall know I am near.

I wait for you to remember me,

I keep awake, singing the hours away.

But a fear haunts me…

Slumber might steal into my eyes

Late in the night,

The song might cease upon my weary lips.

Quietly you tread, in soft unheard steps.

O do not turn back and walk away!

2008-04-15T12:39:00.000-07:00

Underneath the brown skin and white bones, there is somebody else, somebody who's always awake and watching. She speaks too. How do I reach out to her? How do I turn my back on the outside and reach inside?

2008-04-13T11:34:00.000-07:00

I add another to my list of desires.
I want to stroll on a small-ish railway platform of an obscure little village, milky white in a half-moon's light, looking up towards a star-spangled clear sky, a breeze through my hair and a distant song in my ears!

2008-04-11T11:19:00.001-07:00

It's a blue day!

2008-04-06T01:02:00.000-07:00

Themadgirlobserves:

Love has two types.

One is silent,apparently quiescent, soft-footed, beautiful as the twilight, a trifle sad,assuring as the darkness of the night, purifying as the first drops of summer rain,pure as a child's smile,serene as a dolpurnimar chand,safe but passionate all the same and always, always there!Dhruvatara r moton.

The other kind is eloquent, sure as the morning sun,intense,passionate in the conventional sense,makes its absence felt ,also its presence,scorching as mid-noon but just as purifying,dazzling as laughter,kalbaisakhi,makes one lose directions, as ultimate as death and just as true.

Both types are what legends are made of and tragedies too.

2008-04-03T11:11:00.000-07:00

In another 17 minutes she turns a year older and I grow with her. Happy Birthday Maa.

2008-04-01T11:58:00.000-07:00

Kal amar screen jure megh korechhilo.
Sondhyebelaay chomotkar brishti hoyechhilo. besh ektu bhijeochhilam.

2008-03-31T10:55:00.001-07:00

WHATEVER!! I break my promise, take back my words, whatever!
Some people are such pseudos. Such know-it-all megalomaniacs!! I detest them! And detest them more when I have to be all smiles and politeness incarnate while they indulge in endless braggadocio! ARGHHHHH!!
And I wanted to write about something I observed. Something really interesting. But that shan't happen now!
Raag dhore gelo!

2008-03-28T11:19:00.000-07:00

I won't be proud anymore nor critical of others, I promise.

Another of my songs!

2008-03-27T11:44:00.000-07:00

Bavra Mann Dekhne Chala Ek sapna.

Bavre Se Mann, Ki Dekho Bavri Hain Baatein
Bavri Se Dhadkaane Hain, Bavri Hain Saansen
Bavri Si Karwaton Se, Nindiya Door Bhaage
Bavre Se Nain Chaahe, Bavre Jharokhon Se, Bavre Nazaron Ko Takna.
Bavra Mann Dekhne Chala Ek Sapna

Bavre Se Is Jahan Main Bavra Ek Saath Ho
Is Sayani Bheed Main Bas Haathon Mein Tera Haath Ho
Bavri Si Dhun Ho Koi, Bavra Ek Raag Ho
Bavre Se Pair Chahen, Baavron Tarano Ke, Bavre Se Bol Pe Thirakna.
Bavra Mann, Dekhne Chala Ek Sapna

Bavra Sa Ho Andhera, Bavri Khamoshiyan
Thartharati Low Ho Maddham, Bavri Madhoshiyan
Bavra Ek Ghooghta Chahe, Haule Haule Bin Bataye, Bavre Se Mukhde Se Sarakana,
Bavra Mann, Dekhne Chala Ek Sapna

2008-03-25T13:13:00.000-07:00

Sohini, my true namesake and Bedtari, the brilliant critic tagged me. So here's my take on the alphabet.
A-Annie's song! It makes me come alive. Also 'A little sweet, a little sour'
B-Best. There's no need for an explanation.
C-Cry-baby. Tears flood my eyes at the slightest provocation. Childhood. I'm still living it.
D-Death. Dreams.
E-Endlessness. Eyes...something I obsess about.
F- Freedom from everything small and petty. Friendship!
G- Good in red...something I'd look forward to everytime the teacher returned the answer paper.
H- Honesty, my strength. Holden Caulfield. Hope.
I-Imagination.
J-Journey. Jorethang. JML-for the uninitiated, just my luck. JUDE. JUPC.
K-Kabir Durrani, the suitable boy. Koala.
L-Love.Anyday.Anywhere.Anytime.
M-Maa. Mind. Moon.Music.
N-Night.
O-Oishee, my 3 yr old niece.
P- Poetry. Plath.
Q-Questions! I ask a lot of them.
R-Reason. That's why I ask somany questions in the first place. Red, my colour. Rain.
S-Sohini...love my name and his too. Surrealism.
T-Tears.
U-University, my little universe.
V-Virus. Heh heh heh!!
W-Wanderlust!Writing.
X-Xerox and X-ray. I always wrongly substitute one for the other.
Y-Yay! :D
Z-Zenith.
I tag clouds, Honey, Basu, Sree and Anurima.
I had forgotten to write W. Freudian, you say?Thanks Sree.

2008-03-25T12:09:00.000-07:00

I try impressing faces onto my memory, faces of strangers, somebody I select from the faceless crowd. I have a bad memory. I want to remember faces...when I close my eyes I want to be able to create a face in its perfection, in its perfect details. I fail, almost everytime I try.
On a completely different note, even pseudos love being with genuine people. Or do they feel inferior and hence intimidated? And if they don't feel intimidated does that mean they are not pseudos?

2008-03-23T00:34:00.001-07:00

I had a flattering dream today morning.
Somebody I am very fond of told me "you are as beautiful as the last two days of a long vacation before my classes start again in early april when I happen to have my birthday as well".
I have never received such a BEAUTIFUL compliment!
I wish the person meant it!

2008-03-22T11:55:00.000-07:00

There are so many fears!
Fears of losing,failing, falling, getting hurt,expecting,breaking down, or walking in a circular path.
I wish I were immune to all.

2008-03-20T11:26:00.000-07:00

The breeze was beautiful, caressing my sore heat-dry skin. The night was young. Tiny drops of rain fell about me, making little dark spots on my red t-shirt and countless little diamonds on my bare skin which glistened in the plastic yellow light of the sentry-like lamp-posts lining the walk.
Music was melting into my blood and I wanted to fly (it would not have been an extra-ordinary feat for the wind to perform, given my negligible mass) and I wanted to spread my arms and feel the purifying water on my face purging all sense of guilt or sin away. Rain has always meant something very pure, something that has an exculpating effect and was I glad when I came to know that Eliot thought the same too!!
The moon does things to me. I suppose I could lie on my back and drink the tranquil, pristine moonlight for an eternity in which neither I shall rise nor the moon shall set. Storms do things to me. They set me free. I admire their outburst. A black cloud-laden sky and the first drops of rain! When I was young I took great pride in the fact that Rabindranath loved barsha and I did too.
Rain does things to me. Whether it's the sound of water droplets falling thick and fast on a tin-shed or a busy road, where for once some other sound rises above the honks and screeches of murderous vehicles, or the musical pitter-patter of raindrops on a water body or submitting myself to an almost abusive torrent of rainfall, I love it all. I love the wetnes in the grass, the moisture in the air, the resonance of a silent rain-song.
The only thing I dislike is the smell of wet earth, which many make much of, and which always makes me nauseous.
That's all folks!

2008-03-18T11:02:00.000-07:00

Way back in school I used to write fictitious essays on ' a day when everything went wrong' and I would tax my brain to incorporate every possible 'wrong thing' that could possibly have occurred in that essay.

I will write a similar but realistic essay today. It won't be an essay because when so many wrongs happen in a day you aren't left with enough energy or enthusiasm or even the frame of mind to write an essay.

I am attempting to write this post because I need to vent my frustration. Yeah as simple as that!

1. I wake up not so late but manage to sprain my toe just before going out for the day. It didn't hurt much back then. Now it does!

2. Somehow my auto got one of its tyres punctured.

3. Had to read an abominably bad poem by a supposedly lesbian Victorian aunt-niece combo. I have no clue who wrote what!

4. Was too lazy to get my resume' printed in time.

5. Wasted 60 bucks on eight instant photographs where I look like a 'raagi goruchor'.

6. Cannot find the negative of the one photograph of mine that got selected. What's worse is that I know I'll find it as soon as everything gets over.

7. Got a severe blasting from a friend.

8.Am so sleepy that my eyes hurt. But I have to stay up and make my silly mind up.

Not everything is as bad though. Scored decent marks in two of the class tests that I wrote and was apprehensive of. PLEASE!! I need that negative!

2008-03-12T11:03:00.000-07:00

At this moment, everything has gone haywire. I am trying to comprehend and stay indifferent.
Funny! Nothing actually has gone wrong. I think I get a kick out of being crazy.
tumhara intezaar hai, tum pukaar lo. Such a beautiful song!

2008-03-05T12:58:00.000-08:00

I am not a good person.
Agree if you will, do not contradict.

2008-03-04T12:43:00.000-08:00

I watched evening descend on the busy city. The orange sky turned purple and the tall streetlamps came to life. The reflections on the jheel became darker and graver. The shadows started growing taller and finally faded away into invisibility.
There couldn't be a better ending to a lovely day!

2008-03-03T12:51:00.000-08:00

I'm alive. Walking straight. Laughing.
Like I wasn't supposed to!
Had fun today! Had a gloomy phase and a gloomy face.
People are falling in love. dhupdhap dhupdhap. Poor my friends, I always bump into them when I'm not supposed to.
There's insanity in the air. It makes me want to cry and dance and float in the air.
If it sounds incoherent, nothing doing. :-). Sometimes I love being rude.

2008-03-02T10:04:00.000-08:00

Picnic was good. Great fun! So much so that I'm terribly tired. But happy.
My family's complete! And each one has a song. We shall contrive the complications soon.

2008-03-01T09:40:00.000-08:00

I've had a haircut!
I'm looking good, I think. So says Mom. So says Dad. So says sis...but manages to quip in...this is too short!
I'm not looking good, I think. All my friends stared at me! Goggled at me! Gaped at me till I squirmed and they shouted 'why???', not in unison. One after the other.
One said you look like Tom Sawyer.
One said you look like a school kid. [sadly, I always do]
One said you look like a kukurchhana (puppy).
One said, in reply to the earlier mentioned, how could you be as rude as that?
One said, note that it is NOT 'how could you be as false as that'.
One said wow you have had a haircut! great!
One said this suits you best [ do not think the person mentioned is being nice. it is another way of saying you are a kid and this kid-style haircut suits you best]
One said ki je toder basona bujhhina (I cannot fathom your desires)
Okay!! Enough.
I have decided. I look good in this new, very short hairstyle of mine. Period!
Readers, if any, you better agree!
:-)

2008-02-29T11:31:00.000-08:00

Go and catch a falling star!
Yeah that's about it!
*cryptic smile*

2008-02-27T10:13:00.000-08:00

Today was an uneventful day...if the plotting and planting of the family tree is not taken into consideration and I was happy and sad, chirpy and silent, crazy and sober all within the span of a few minutes.
These teenager like mood swings!
On a completely different note, there's no one like you B! Never will be.

Of fux ps *nd friends.

2008-02-26T10:08:00.000-08:00

This is my first post in this person*l blog of mine where I c*n be m*d, politic*lly incorrect *nd even gr*mmatic*lly incorrect. I c*n flout *ll rules of the English l*ngu*ge *nd freely slip from l*ngu*ge to l*ngu*ge without being pen*lised.
Yippee!! Tot*l freedom t*stes good. So does being in my own shoes for * while.
So I decide to do *w*y with * p*rticul*r letter tod*y.
I m*de * m*jor f*ux p*s when *fter * quick reflection I fin*lly decl*red peremptorily th*t the sc*ntily cl*d cricket field th*t we were *mbling through h*d * different bound*ry for sixers!
DONTSMIRKLEMMESPE*K!!
I LOVE CRICKET!!
I KNOW EVERYTHING...erm ok*y not quite evrything but quite * lot *bout the g*me. HMMPHH!!!
Im*gine the ignominy of he*ring this st*tement of yours being repe*tedly repe*ted to every individu*l in the group inspite of the f*ct th*t he/she h*d he*rd you s*y those words you wish your lips h*d never *rticul*ted, *nd then to those unfortun*te very close friends who h*dn't h*d the chance to h*ve the first h*nd experince , then to common friends who go h*w h*w h*w clutching their tummies *s if they never he*rd * funnier line, *nd then to scores of close friends who don't even know you only to p*ss * hypothesis on girls *nd their cricket br*ins! [D*rn! I h*te MB], *nd fin*lly my blunder *tt*ins the st*tus of * legend*ry one *nd my n*me goes down in the voluminous volume of 'legend*ry fa*x p*s'.
*nd I won't h*ve people e*vesdropping when I *sk my mom perfectly norm*l questions on the phone *nd l*ter be te*sed mercilessly for no *pp*rent re*son!!
*nd I won't drink w*ter overdosed with zeoline *nd feel like I h*ve ble*ching powder in my mouth!! YUCK!!
*nd I won't have my v*nill*-str*wberry softy s*crificed to serve *s the guine* pig to the m*r*ttok experiments conducted by * horde of d*ngerously cre*tive culin*ry *rtists, fusion being their w*tchword. *nd I won't h*ve my icecre*m licked *nd gobbled up while I munch on the miy*no w*fer.

But without * second thought, I would h*ve *ll those *nd more bec*use I completely, cr*zily love the people who do those. They m*ke my d*ys fun filled *nd nights full of h*ppy dre*ms.
Love you *ll!!!