Tagged again.

Now Suki does it. Ok I say.... Well this is interesting I guess... Lets see what it entails.

Ten things I'll do by thirty....

First of all... Let me go ahead and panic and say.... OMIGOD I shall be thirty in SIX.... SIX.... SIX... years.... Ooooohkay..... lets see what I want to do.

10. I want to sky dive. Or bungee jump. Or both. Reason? I have vertigo.

9. Get myself a Tattoo. A proper one, preferably from Goa.

8. That means, I will be going to Goa. WHICH is again, on my list. And I want to stay in a shack there... A proper shack.

7. Make love.

6. The previous comment sort of brought us to the eternal question... Who with? I hope to find the right person to do it with. Right, here I would like to comment on the damned luck I have when I go around looking for the right person... and end up with The Jerk. The Other day I was sort of running an experiment of calling people up and asking them... Erm do you think I fall for the Jerk? I ran this through Andro, Kaichu, D, Peep, Manzy... and guess what? Apart from Manzy, all of them agreed that I fall for jerks. Manzy sort of tried to save grace by saying.... "You fall for the wrong type."

I am stupid. I fall for arrogance. Shit.

5. Live. Alone. Without the family. Oooof, I can't take the family no more.

4. Slim down. Yes, I have had enough with the curveball jokes and the bump-and-grind jokes and the big woman jokes.

3. Be romanced. The way I want to be. Proper courtship.

2. Make people look at me with respect in their eyes. Because I have earned it (With Aretha Franklin singing it in the background...)

1. Fall in love.

Yes, I know. I am stupid. And yes, I am romantic, and allthat. But tonight I saw my Adt get married. My best nerd of a friend... head of the high school priss club... the girl I loved because she was the best defensive strategy planner ever. And looking at her today sort of made me realize that time's a-wasting. I went to the party for a few hours.... because I could not bear not to go. And when I was coming back.... Sayani was in the car with me, staring outside... her eyes were blank. I knew what she was thinking... I was thinking the same thing....

What am I doing?

Its such a question of a question for a girl to see someone she loves fall in love and marry. It makes her biological clock go CUCKOO-CUCKOO-CUCKOO within her soft shell. I wish I was not sentimental. I wish I was not this nyaaka. But it DOES NOT HAPPEN. Really. It makes me wonder even more What the Effing Hell am I doing with my life and is it worthwhile?

Yanyway.... back to my post.

10 things I should be grateful for....

These are not marked... simply because they have no right or left order.... no priorities. Because all of them are sort of equally important.

• My school. And my college. And my University. I respect you, I love you. You gave me build. I do not know how I would have survived some years without your grace.

• Friendship. They have lifted me up when I was in need. They have sheltered me when I was weak. I cannot tell you how much I adore you.... but you know who you are and what you mean to me for simply being there... be it on the other end of the phone, or the other side of this world. For those moments of demolishing a tuna sandwich together, or loitering around in search of kaash phool, or drinking and singing at Oly, or walking miles and miles anywhere... with no direction home, or working together in utter silence, feeling the presence of the other right beside me.
  

• My room. Its me. Its mine. Its all I have. I can make it or break it as I want to. It does not reject me.... ever. It makes me who I am... and I mess it up as much as I want to. Its my mess and I love it. Aamar ghore aami raani. And my pets who adorn it. I love my Ghotu. Oolikibaajepakhilebaba!!
  

• My books. Beautiful... you are. All of you. I love you to the point of obsession. I adore you... I worship you. You are what I look for in the end of the day...

• Monty Python. Terry Pratchett. Neil Gaiman. Alan Moore. Borat.

• The Sister. Though she was a result of Absolute Bloody Carelessness in the Parents' part, she gave me a lot. She takes a lot too, but thats for another post when I am pissed with her. Right now I am wearing a little pearl pendant she gave me once. Its beautiful. And she saved for months for it. Makes me want to think sometimes. About me. About her. About how I would stop myself from beating her into a pulp.
  

• Andromeda. For giving me grace. And for the walks.
  

• Kaichu. For never mincing the truth.
  

• Pablo. For scolding me, fighting with me and for giving me long lectures.

• Resilience. With which I can tolerate Andromeda's nyakaami(I daresay I want to slap her sometimes when she snivels and goes Boo Hoo), Chu's eating habit (And trust me I want to put her on a DIET so fast....), and Pablo's Dramabaaji (He should SO be in a Bangladeshi cinema).

I tag others. Ruby-at and Heathcliffe deserves it.

Me and my Shadow

Ok I have been tagged by people.

Rules:

1. Put your MP3 player on shuffle
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. You must write the name of the song no matter what. No cheating.

(In place of comments, I post a line from each song that seems to be apt for the post)

IF SOMEONE SAYS “IS THIS OKAY”? YOU SAY?

Stupid Girls - Pink

baby if i act like... THAT!!

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?

Papercut - Linkin Park

Its like I can't stop what I'm hearing within
Its like the face inside is right beneath my skin

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?

Testify - Rage Against The Machines

Your temple it calms me

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?

Hallowed be Thy Name - Iron Maiden

Catch my soul cause its willing to fly away

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?

Ripple - The Grateful Dead

If I knew the way I would take you home

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?

Saawan me Lag Gayi Aag - Mika

Sune na sune na paagal diwaani...
Aaj na soya saari raat dil mera haay....

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?

Bholi Surat Dil ke Khote - Lata Mangeshkar

Naam bare hai darshan chhote

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?

Psycho Monkey - Joe Satriani

Er this has no lyrics. But the title sorta explains everything.

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?

La Tortura - Shakira

Ay amor me duele tanto (A love hurts both)

WHAT IS 2+2?

I Heard it Through the Grapevine - Marvin Gaye

I bet you're wondering how I knew

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR BEST FRIEND?

Nothing Else Matters - Metallica

Trust I seek and I find in you

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?

Drive my Car - The Beatles

I got no car and it's breaking my heart,
but I've found a driver and that's a start.

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?

Nahi rakhta dil mein Kuch - Lucky Ali

Nahi rakhta dil mein kuch,
Rakhta hoon zubaan par,
samjhe na apne bhi kabhi.
Kah nahi sakta main kya,
sahtaa hoon chupa kar,
Ek aesi aadat hai meri.
Sabhi to hain jinse milta hoon,
Sahi jo hai inse kahta hoon,
Jo samajhta hoon.
maine dekha nahi rang dil aaya hai sirf adaa par,
Ek aesi chahat hai meri.
Baharon ke ghere se laaya main dil sajaa kar.
Ek aesi sohbat hai meri.
Saye mein chaye rehta hu
Aankein bichaye rehta hu
Jinse milta hu
kitno ko dekha hain hamne yaha
kutch sikha hain hamne unse naya

Pehle phursat thi ab hasratein samakar 
Ek aaisi uljhan hain meri
Khud chalkar rukta hu jaha jis jagah par
Ek aaisi sarhad hain meri
Kahne se bhi main darta hoon
Apno ki dhun mein rahta hoon
Kar kya sakta Hoon
De sakta hoon main thoda pyar yahan par,
Jitni haisiyat hai meri.
Reh jaaun sabke dil mein dil ko basakar
Ek aaisi niyat hain meri
Ho jaye to bhi razi hoon.
Kho jaau to main baaki hoon.
Yun samajhta hoon.

Raste na badle na badla jahan
Phir kyon badalte kadam hain yahan

I could not decide which line to keep.

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?

Stairway to Heaven - Frank Zappa's version

No body, but nobody knows what Zappa can do to this song. He is GOD. Or someone close to Him.

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?

Sutta - The Zeest

Bhenchod, baanchod, bhenchod baanchod bhenchod baanchod....

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?

Space Oddity - David Bowie

I'm feeling very still
And I think my spaceship knows which way to go

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?

Dirty Harry - Gorillaz

Ain't got a chance, we ain't got a chance...

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?

We didn't Start the Fire - Billy Joel

It was always burning...

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?

Highway to Hell - AC/DC

I'm on my way to the promise land

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?

You do something to me - Paul Weller

Mixing my emotions that throws me back again
Hanging on the wire, I'm waiting for the change
I'm dancing through the fire, just to catch a flame
an' feel real again


WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR FRIENDS?

Ghetto Superstar - Pras feat. Mya and ODB

The Supreme-dream-team always up with a scheme

WHAT SHOULD YOU POST THIS AS?

Me and my Shadow - Frank Sinatra

Life is gonna be we-wow-whee! For my shadow and me.

Marital Honours...

So the health is sort of confining me to my room nowadays. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here to learn that the mother is taking great advantage of it and decided to add me to a matrimonial website. Yes Yes, Rimi has had a lot to say about the matrimonial thingy. I call that.... household hazard. Every Sunday morning my mother sits down in front of any Bengali newspaper and peruses with a magnifying glass through the columns. No joke, she uses a MAGNIFYING GLASS.

Anyway, the benefits of websites have come through and the search has gone online. Here are a few samples.

The Virgin.

"Hi to all. This is the first time I am here. Well describing myself is a difficult task for me especially here but in short I am a simple guy with simple values but extremely ambitious in terms of my career and regarding my life partner I want a simple, nice girl with little values and who could be my best friend before my second half."

We shall await the second half. Picture abhi bhi baaki hai mere dost.

The Beautificator.

"Regarding family background, father retired IFS officer, mother expired when I was only 12, two elder sis, one married. Do not have any bad habbits. i do smoke and drink occasionaly. Seeking for a life partner with whom i can share my thoughts and offcourse love. I am a very lovable type of a person , I think u will admire me more when u will meet me. I am very down to earth like a person. Hoping for a right match. She dont have to be beautyful but I desire my wife to be beautyful from heart."

Offcourse you shall get someone. Just not me. I am not beautyful from heart. I have lungs and gobs of fluid in it. Cholesterol-pressurizes the area where my heart once was.

The Gardener

"Looking for someone who has some aim in life, that may be towards the ultimate growth of her life. "

By God, dil garden garden ho gaya....

"Hi, good to see u watching my profile. i beleive that word's can never describe any one's personality b'cause their is vast difference bt'wen a language and emotions. i dont have any specfic hobbies at present but ussualy i like to go on long drives,have north indian or mughal dishes and gaze at the sky.I am tall, wheatish & handsome Ha.Ha ha...not at all. My Preference : i have no preferences as such except that our wavelength should match."

All right, this is All India Radio combined with an astronomer. I do claim that I have been guilty of stargazing at times.... generally at three in the morning when the world is asleep and I am missing my job and feeling hungry because I know that in one part of Kolkata there is someone eating chicken fried rice and running back to work... Ah work! What you made me!

The Soft Threller

"Hello,I am very simple and down-to-earth person.I like reading books(threller),listing music,surfing internet.I am whitesh,slim body type.I think that my life partner would be my best friend and I can create my future plan consulting with her.I am indian citizen by birth.I am not smoking and nither drinking.I have an elder brother brother and no sister.My father is an retired employee and my mother in a govt employee.My elder brother is a businessman and i am a computer programmer working in a software firm in saltlake,kolkata."

I could deal with the brother. I could deal with the slim body type. I cant deal with thrells. Sorry.

The Foodie

"I like reading books, watching Good movies (irrespective of language/country), i trek a lot. I like riding bikes. I like serenity and less crowded place. I own one Electra from enfield company. My complexion is not fair....well...not dark also! i am little overweight. I plan to marry by 2007. I am an Indian. I love to stay in India. My profession has many time tempted me to go abroad but i always humbly and politely avoided those 'opportunities'. Well... i like children. but unfortunately as i am still unmarried and i do not have the 'skill' or 'virtue' (whichever way u like to call) i failed to father any child till date! even failed to impress any girl at the first place. well.... ok, let me confess, i never tried to do so, honestly. I drink, occationally and only with my few old friends. I smoke, only when i am dipressed or down. By family i an not a vegetarian. but i do not eat fish. As my father deceased in my childhood, my mother preferred for veg food. so, from childhood i liked veg food. even now, 20-22 days in a month i take veg food. otherwise, i do not have any taboo for any food. I passed 10th standard from a bengali medium school. then 10+2 from a college in science. i completed my B.Sc (Physics) from CU. Then i completed my MCA from IGNOU. then i joined a software company as a computer programmer. In the year 2004 i left the company and opened my own software development firm. Right now i am in struggling period with my new adventure (read business). I am looking for a female. not male! She must be educated and jovial. and... as much honest as possible. I do not have any prejudices about caste, religion, financial status or any thing. I stay alone with my old metarnal uncle. I cook our food myself. i stay at central kolkata, in an apartment. .... well, thats all for the time being.You should not smoke (preference). If you do not smoke - I will not smoke, even when i will quarrel with my wife! "

This profile began with such promise. Truly at first I wanted to really go through the profile. But then came the food. And then the smoking bit.

The Primitive

"I am looking for a suitable match for me who would adjust to family values and adjust with the family cultures. Should not be too modern"

Boss we are postmodern here.

Yes, my loony bun is fine.

Peepsy's even better, but you better be liking my spunk because I am at the end of my tether here.

Oh, and have I told you how I lost a match?

The prospective In-Laws came to see me at Swabhumi, because they did not believe in conventional things, and wanted to meet me on a NEUTRAL ground. So I went, I had lots of good food on them because I am not supposed to have any according to the house rules and docs. And then I told them, while they were peering in a shop, "Oh I see someone... waitaminute I need to say hi...."

And I escaped, ran and came home. And when they called, because they were wondering where I was... I switched off the cell phone. And when they called the house, I assumed the voice of my mother and accused them of looting me away. They were afraid. Never called back.

Yes I am mad. And mean. And devoid of social graces. Sue me!

Umm.

Well.

I.

Sort of began slowly, but the flow is coming in now. Its been a long, haunting day with miles of melodrama and people banging their heads against the wall (read the wall of this room) and finally I threw up my hands.

Enough, said I.

I stared at my fate and proclaimed it down. Down with the sickness. I am tired of it.

But unfortunately, it is not tiring of me. Its eating my core. Slowly.


On another hand, the parents are being together and the twenty-fifth anniversary has come up and they have successfully drunk-dialed people and as a result I have had to call back and apologize to people who I have no clue about. With the THROAT that seems to me to be eternally sore now.

I hate my house. I want to run away. Someone, get me a Lamborghini and I would. I would also need a driver, so there!!


Lamborghini. I have expensive taste.

One Hundredth Post

Nothing too fancy.

Its been quite a long time.

And I have been confined within the words.

Ah well.

Hop on.

So what was on my list again?

Oh yes, my days. The butt ends that remain of it are quite calm actually. I have forgotten how it was when a certain someone would make nasty comments and watch me suffer, I have forgotten the unsuspecting "Tag" that someone would unerringly put on me.

Now I have become very mental. This room sort of does that to me. Its around 10 x 12 feet and it really kills me sometimes though it has 7 windows that are kept open all day.

Its the nights I dread most of the times. I remember everything then.

But I have fun too. I fail to see Britney Spears waving back at me from a mirror or read too many fanfics and have nightmares.... but I do things that make me laugh. Here I must tell you that I have finished reading a few books that I always wanted to read but did not have the time... and they are bleddy awesome... including Jeanette Winterson's Tanglewreck and Kenilworth Whisp's Quidditch Through the Ages. Someone please send me a copy of Pratchett's Making Money and I will be eternally grateful.


And I am officially in a relationship. With two men. Who have devoted themselves to me. Thank You Dhruva and Swayam, you two make me feel like I can do something once I get off this room.


And no, I do NOT require a shrink, or a therapist. Its all good.

Its this room I tell you. Should not have let the Mother clean it. Now I cant find a single thing and all my stuffs are in Packets and in Racks....

Soil

I hear Gunshots.

Everything outside is dark and wet because the rain has soaked the November dust tonight and there I hear Gunshots.


It is a lone shot at first.

It is followed by a series of them.

I run to the balcony to see.

Where is it coming from? I wonder.... Where.

Then from the darkness I see two shades moving away from me, and one dark heap lying on the ground.

I run downstairs, open my door and run to the heap.

It is another person. It is another person who is now dead.

I do not know him. But he is dead.

Dead


I walk away. He is already dead and it is dark and wet here. I fear for myself. I will come back, I promise. Tomorrow. When ants would make holes on your eyelid to tear at your dead cornea. They like the sound of the tearing flesh when they make a steady attempt to demolish you with their comrades...

But you have made the first sacrifice. From here, the ants will come back, but they will not be able to eat you up. We will see to it. We will take you away and let you be in peace. The ants shall sample other bodies too, but we will try to salvage them before they get those bodies.

And then I shall trample the ants under my shod foot and kill them all. The ones who can run away will run away. I will stare at my mess and laugh at their death.

But for now, I leave. Let me go... I promise I shall be back.

Sitaron se sajaake....

And there was a day when I saw you smile, confusion and love waging a battle between them, and you sniffed and then absorbed the tears and gave me a hug. Because you loved me.

And another day, you walked in front of a running car for me, and scolded me for being self-indulgent in misery, and you loved me too.

Yet another day you told me you loved me, overcoming all the barriers you have set around yourself.

And another day, you held my hand, kissed it, and told me about the miseries of the world within you, and then you sought relief because you loved me.


Haoay haoay..... haoay haoay.... Bondhu tomay.... e gaan shonabo....


Ei raat tomar amar.... ei chaand tomar aamar.....


Maine tere liye hi saat rang ke sapne chune.... sapne suriley sapne....


Zindagi kaisi ye paheli haaye..... Kabhi ye hasaaye, Kabhi ye...........................




Tanha dil, tanha safar, dhundey tujhe, phir kyun nazar

Autumn-Cleaning

Dudes and dudettes who visit my blog ever so seldom, I hereby declare I have quit my job. I am, as of now, UNEMPLOYED.


Uh-Oh.


Ah well, I'll look for something else. I am going to. I swear.

Just not now.

The other day I was on a spree..... cleaning spree. And I was going through the junk that I have in my room, that most of my friends declare being Uber-comfy, apart from the great Chu, who begins cleaning within a mile of my room, and I end up losing everything that I have in the room..... Ah the pains of having a girl who loves me but does not love my mess!

Anyway, I revised on what I got myself with the salary I have.... have to analyze it because I have Quit it, and I need a replacement job fast, because Time's a-wasting. Butbutbut.... good news!! I have time to burn, and I have decided to learn how to drive my car.


Um, have you watched Speed? Sandra Bullock?? Let me tell you, I do not intend to drive my car like that. I just want to drive it....

Cars scare me. Like needles. I always wanted a tattoo. Like I wanted to donate blood. But let me tell you, you're watching that needle....that needle that went inside you once and pulled out some blood, go into you GOD-KNOWS-HOW-MANY times inside your skin.

Excuse me while I faint now.

Anyway, so I am left with unemployment, and I know that is going to be a problem soon enough, but hey, what was that Python song again?


Life's a piece of shit.... when you look at it.

For me, probably a piece of shit with a lipstick stuffed in it. With a piece of raw, scraped bone to top.

Sorry, impolite imagery. But have to vent that out sometimes when I realize that it was someone else's problem that eventually got me out of the job I have now. And the worst bit is, I can't do anything. Its all in the rulebook. And I have to follow it.

Its like watching it happen another time.

I am standing in the sidelines.... watching this happen. I am watching this happen. I cant believe this is happening but I am still watching, in horrified fascination. Its like watching someone rape me. Its like that. But its not just that.

The rape is a non-consensual act of violence where the subject is objectified. But what if the object is in another plane where she/he fails to understand what is happening to her/him, just let it happen, and watch as she/he is being raped from somewhere within the self where nothing, no one can approach her, touch her, understand her?

There's the rub.

I watch. Its always been like that. A watch. A look out. Out from the world within, like the mermaid watching from within the sea the spirit beyond. The mermaid wanted others to understand her but she could not. Her voice at the world of reality was snatched away. She was frozen on the spot, watching it happen to her.... where reality robbed her out of her speech. She became the ultimate puppet, played by the hands of reality... and she escaped to the sea because she realized the empathy of the enclosure...

Huzur aap ki khwahishon meri ruh chum kar gayi hai...

Aap ke nigah mere dil me chubhe,

Zaalim bewafaa, ekbaar mur ke dekh mujhe

Na jaane tere pyaar me kab hum barbaad ho gaye.

The other day we were at Kaichu's place..... me, Dhruva, Kaichu and Rimi....... bloggers all. Rimi sat daintily on the sofa, her legs positioned in a suitably ladylike manner, raised her left eyebrow at a pointed forty-five degree arc and declared : "How can you sit like That!!"Puzzled, I looked down at my legs. There they were, spread at a dedicated posture of going nowhere, indicating my relaxed mode. I knew it offended her inbred convent-educated manners to sit like that, but when you have spent all your life around people who have made indifference an art, the remarks are remarkably easy to ignore, though the inbred sense of always having to explain your action forces this post on me.

And then we were lying down, and talking about "Stuff".... and I was in this haze.... [dare I call it purple??] the light from outside that came after all the lights were switched off and we were immersed in a twilight zone, and Dhruva as trying to tell us horror stories. After a while Kaichu sort of threw up her hands, looked and sounded adoringly like Mamie in Tom and Jerry and we knew we got to her.

Deep in the night we had met the Peep who had been asking us to gatecrash her party in the politest manner possible, and downing Black Dogs straight up. In the process, she left her cell phone in Kaichu's hand and later on had to be reminded of it over and over again.

And barely an hour before that, the Sandman, who was with us at Sharma's Dhaba, where we were downing Chicken Tangri Masala with Garlic Naan (Ah, a slice of heaven right down here...), was telling us his story, how he has lived alone for the last few years, and we were listening and as I was thinking........ Oh, to have that life back again, the days when I was twenty one, and as impressionable as him.

And even before, we were at Princeton, listening to a bad band play, and Pablo was sitting with me and we were discussing the times that bind us now.Another year is about to pass.

I grow old, I grow old.

Posting from a Place.....

As I write, I can see my time running out on me.... I have around 10 minutes to go before my break ends so I better finish fast.

I miss our old trainers... This room gives me the chills.... I miss Abhik, i miss Vivek and I miss Prateek. I met Prateek today... He looked strained. He identified me at the gate (because I had forgotten my own ID) and let me enter Wipro. I dont know why but I felt sorry for the poor guy.... Imagine, having to leave for Hyderabad on a few day's notice.... If I had a chance, I would hit on the decision maker's head and make him see sense.... That will teach him a lesson not to interfere in other people's business.
Driftwood. That sort of takes care of this post's issue. I miss home sometimes.... home is not home anymore. There are so many different things that I miss nowadays............. the crowd of JU, the people who used to be with me.... Andromeda and others.... and then I miss Sir, and Kaichu.
This sounds so desperately like a testimonial on the number of misses. But I do. I miss them, I miss them.... I really wish I could stop missing them.... but I cant. I cant believe that there was a time when I would spend hours in the end with people I loved, talking and laughing and having a gala time with them. Now I just go to sleep and remain thankful when I am not awake because some dumb idiot has called me in the middle of the night (which is basically three o'clock in the afternoon and therefore a godly hour for the rest of mankind )....
Anyway, there are things that I remember, when I go for breaks I do believe I wish sometimes I see Andromeda, from across here to the godawful place she works at..... But I wish her happiness. Because if this is what she wants, this is what she would have.
Momentary glimpses from a past life sometimes haunts me.... I feel paralyzed when I am suddenly attacked by a vision of Sandy quietly laughing as A Lal poked fun at Queen, and Bohemian Rhaphsody.... or ADG looking contemplatively at a copy of Antigone and just scratching his brow with the adorable "I dont know where my dog is, and I have no clue what the Anti Bitch's problem was.... And I think I am stuck at this terrible Miasma that is haunting me just as badly as the Choerephorai...." expression.
Ah, those Sophocles classes where Babel used to enter around fifteen minutes after the class had begun, and ADG smiling at her and giving her an indulgent "I know where you came from... and I really wish I did not but I do" smile and told her to sit with an imperial nod.... I felt like going "ZEUS! O Lord of Lords!!!" everytime he did that.... he had such an impact.... it was like a bolt of lightning. I might even compare him to Thor.
And Tintinda, dear Tintin da.
The name... the name...
I felt Loki.
Perfect. He is the ultimate mischief maker. I read Sandman the other day. I felt Tintinda in Loki. I felt Loki in Tintinda.
And sometimes I wonder what will I call myself. Delirium? Delirium is apt. I dont know where I am going and I dont know where I came from. This mind remains in a perpetual state of blankness, a state of numbness. I live in presence. Am I suffering from Permanent Cathartic Effect (PCE) ??
Dearly departed souls of this mortal cloth, I do feel for those who are lost, those who are gone to a different frame, and is lost in translation. I feel for you because the fallen IDOLS all turn to dust in the end... everything is lost, everyone is emptied of their own selves, and they follow the path... the path they think is shown but is actually something they have chosen on their own.
Everyone makes choices. All the choices are actually made for them, but they make them anyway. And with each choice they move forward, look forward, while living in their past, because every moment is a living history, a thing of the past the moment they are created. The illusion is perfect... we actually live in the past but look before. And we pine for what is not.
Maddy. My Maddalena, my Madeline, my Mado....
The other day I felt the warm tang of the morning breeze and I felt your smile with it. My sunshine, my glory, a love I love.... She believes in goodness. And she shatters just a little more as her belief is taken apart at the seams and torn. Like wings from a fragile moth. And she is as attracted to the hypnotic rays of light as the moth.
Which reminds me of someone who is better not named. Like Voldemort, he is to be left in the dark... Let him be the soul of this particular post. He colours the edges of the text... In spirit, he supplements the vermouth... caustic but succulent, leaving a bitter-sour-sweet aftertaste in the mouth and something that I really cannot define... A sense of denial? I hoped to become friends. I do not know now whether we are... foolish, thoughtless comments break the tender bonds we humans forge with threads of recognition of the pain that we all face and overcome, and face and face again.

I end here. It is a good time to end this particular post which brims with nostalgia, that beckons me towards the momentary need to forget oneself... we long to be in nothingness, and our longings often are realized.

me me me me

The song goes like that.... I hum it sometimes when my mind stops working, and I stare in front of me at the computer and then pick up the messages blinking on it and save the folder and then delete them because I don't want to go see another face that is going to go away.

Everyone goes away, in the end.

I lie. In this angry mass of burning spirits I float and churn inside, willing to calm but unable to do so... willing to give in but unable to run out of my molten spirits.... I am like the lava that erupts and pours through, the bile, the unbearable lightness of being in nothingness.

Will you carry all? My empire of dirt??

And I forgot the words, but the essence is still there. The essence is there in the short spurts of enthusiasm, the childish outstretch towards something.... something. But I find nothing. I see nothing. I feel nothing.

NO Thing is. But what is not?

BILE

Bile.

Bile rises sometimes... from the innards that you took for granted. At the mess.

You rage. You fight against it coming out. You hate yourself for the mass of acidic sick erupting from your bowels, shooting out of your mouth. But you say it. You go ahead and throw the sickness at the world and revel in the pleasure of numbness inside your mouth.


And then you see a little girl playing in the gutters. The girl has pushed her arms through a polythene packet's handles, and the packet balloons out behind her... the illusion it gives.... it looks like wings. White wings.

And the girl's happy.

And all is well again. You go from place to place, stumble from block to block and falsely smile.

You tell people you adore how much you adore them, and then they tell you you look hurt.

What have I done, my sweetest friend???


Its all a mess, I tell them. All a lie. A big sham, and its just the beginning.

And someone looks over, from high and low, from all sides, including the inside, and smiles, and smiles, and smiles some more, because thats all there is to it.

You save the bile inside that smile. And one day it erupts with a little whimper of pain, and then it gushes.

The Last Resort....

Cut my life into pieces,

This is my last resort,

Suffocation, no breathing,

Dont give a fuck if I cut my arm bleeding...

-------------- Last Resort - Papa Roach

And that was the way it began. Those who don't know what I am talking about, today saw Cassini's Division play at Someplace Else for the last time. The management was quite happy with their decision of not renewing their contract, because who wants to see a bunch of people headbang and mosh and jump off speakers and throw beer bottles around and empty the ashtray over other's head?

No respectable Starry, Classy hotel does.

Today I came back from work early. I had a few things to settle before I headed for the gig. The final one. My friend M told that this would be the last, so I came to pay respect. It was something that I had to do.

It was a cold day in December 2006 when I first heard Cassini's Division play. I was at the place for barely twenty minutes, but I found myself nodding my head to the beat, and when my friend Heathcliffe came back from U.K., I went to rediscover the beat.

And I was hooked from the start, mesmerized, hypnotized by the power that lured me back each time I decided to give up. Fatal Attraction? Yes, perhaps. But somehow, the songs made me feel alive.

Dreary weary bored to death

I'm getting tired of myself

In this bleak suburban hole

Killing my soul

Gotta get away, get away

Find my way out of here

Find that cozy little place, be myself

And dream away the day at night

Disposition saturnine

Dream away my daytime life

Disposition saturnine

---------------Satyr9, Cassini's Division

I told John today... "Fireworks. There should be fireworks today." And they delivered. The world ended with a BOOM, and I was stunned....

Oh my God, the fever! It was a mess, a marvel, a miracle. It began with a little explosion of passion, and then took off from there. The place was jam-packed, all the headbangers near the speakers, and watching as the band took off from one plane and led into realms of surreality... One by one the songs took off... Voivoid, Kryptonite, Caesar, Fake, Smooth Criminal, Higher, Drowning, Story of her life.... The songs flowed.

I was stunned, shattered, weakened, aware. I watched as the show wound down to an end, and then saw Rahul da looking at us... the pride glowing like a glowworm in the night. The lights made his profile stand out sharply, he was magnificent. And what the others could not say, he said it. Music, the Saviour, the soul of beauty, the rhythm of life, the beat of orgiastic, dionysian, uncontrollable, unparalleled beauty that left one with a void, a numbness of utter bliss, where there was nothing, and that was the relief.

And I found someone shed tears because she felt the loss inside her soul; the catharsis, the calm of mind would no longer be found here. She felt the loss, and she felt lost, cast adrift in the storm of life.

And someone else was trying to laugh, to joke, to be herself, and in the end, she gave up and sought comfort in my embrace, too caught up to notice that she did not know me.

And there was someone whose grandmother was dying of cancer, and she was called off to the hospital, and when she came back, it was all over. The show was over.

And someone got hit and bled. But he lived and loved every moment.

And someone was bleeding inside. Bleeding. But he thrived in his misery, and decided to give life another chance.

And someone did not turn up because he realized he could not face the trauma of being left.

And the Jedi watched it all. And he understood, and took care of those who could not look after themselves properly.

All of us... the crowd was all the way with the group, and everyone was caught up in the rhythm, in the beat, in the music that beat against their souls, freeing them, leading them.

In the end, it did'nt matter, despite the pictures taken, and the gig schedule seen. I would miss you people. Because all of you matter. All of you, you know who you are.

And Rahulda, John, Sukantida and Ludoda.

Someplace Else to me was equivalent to Cassini's Division. Now Someplace Else is someplace else. Its a void.

A Knight in the darkness...

There is a Samurai in my acquaintance who is a constant source of love, and aspiration for me.

I am in awe of him.

Sometimes walking down the mossy paths across the narrow bridges inside my being, I suddenly remember that there are fighters who made it, and suckers who did not. Sometimes I have fought, sometimes, I have been sucked in. What always mattered was that I survived. And I am. Surviving.

Its somehow simple once you realize that you can never give up on life. If you do, then it means you have lost yourself, left yourself behind, and given up searching for it. And so you try to find it in death.

WHAT AM I UP TO??

umm job.

JOB.

(job —n. 1 piece of work to be done; task. 2 position in, or piece of, paid employment. 3 colloq. difficult task (had a job to find it). 4 slang crime, esp. a robbery. 5 state of affairs etc. (bad job). —v. (-bb-) 1 do jobs; do piece-work. 2 deal in stocks; buy and sell (stocks or goods). 3 deal corruptly with (a matter).  just the job colloq. exactly what is wanted. make a job (or good job) of do well. on the job colloq. 1 at work. 2 engaged in sexual intercourse. out of a job unemployed. [origin unknown])

Let me review what we have done so far.

Leered at every hunky instructor.... Check.

Played games on our computer (beginner's Minesweeper at 17 seconds... rank one in class, and 0 in Hearts, level 9 in Pacman, and finished board at one go in 9ball, courtesy http://www.techdictionary.com/,).................... DOUBLE Check.

Been to Aquatica on Office tour............... Check

Done Skits and plays...... Check Check

Fed the ducks ..... Check.

Been chased around by ducks and ducklings.... CHECK.

Spent hours and hours in the cafeteria the size of a mall .... yup, check.

Passed our prometric exams ........... Check again

Been to Roxy for an official hangout with people and been hailed up by friends who work at Tantra for free Margheritas ............................. Hic. kCeck.

Am a certified Laptop Technician for world's number one brand in computers............. CHECKMATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

wash away the pain....

Come on, dammit!! Heal. Heal me. Heal me.

Motherfucker, heal!! Make me whole again? Where have I healed? Where?

Look, look! It still bleeds here. And here. And here and here and here. They are raw, gaping wounds. Right here. And here.

Look there! Look! There it is. There is the wall. There is the room. There is the silent kingdom you once inherited from your parents. Now you can't even go to sleep in your throne. You close your eyes, and you see nothing. And that is what frightens you.

And I stand here, watching you. I watch you watch me, and I laugh. I laugh at you, I laugh at me. I laugh at us both, because, in the end, we are. We are. And I am.

All the parts of me. They hurt.

Yeah yeah, this blog was getting bored, so it sort of messaged me... Hey, dudette, what about a post?

So there I have to write up something to please him. Panu is getting angry.

I checked this particular site, and I laughed till I fell off the chair... http://houseoffame.blogspot.com/

Extremely funny, I say.

So well, I was supposed to write something or the other. What was it? Oh, yes, You know, so it was Sunday night, and Cassini's Division [Typo corrected, Duchess!!!] was on full blast, and Trina, my friend, suddenly dumped a fistful of cigarette butts on my head. I was damn furious, wanted to poke out her eyes, or at least pull out her eyebrow stud, but Abir, my friend, and partner (who had enough vodka in him to pass off as a Russian) stopped me at it. So I decided to leave the show early, but somehow got late because Munkky was being adviced on the finer points of quizzing. Munkky looked suitably helpless, and ran away as soon as he could.

Abir, looking for the next victim, turned towards me.

"I'm hungry."

I led him towards the general direction of KFC. As we were about to cross the street, Abir spotted a random kid of around 17 wearing a silver hat.

Oh dear.

But the damage was done.

"I hate your hat, Man."

I dragged him off to KFC, and as I was about to order, there was a polite "hehek-khiyuuz-mee-hee-hee" behind us.

And the kid lectured Abir for nearly five minutes on how he was drunk, and thats why this "BEEEG MAN" was letting him go, simply because he had a girl with him. The kid was almost 4 feet 10 inches, and Abir was roughly a feet taller.

Poor Abir. He took it all in, with an insolent "SO?"

And after the kid left, he hung his head in shame.

Oh no, that was the Vodka.

First Day of Job...

Not exactly job, the first two months shall be training..... and well, till now, its going well. I am currently doing my voice training.

Ta-Te-Ti-To-Tu.

Singing in the Rain, anyone?

And the Trainer. Is gorgeous. I am extremely pleased with the hours I can look at his lips moving and imagine...

The Thief

Ah the sound of thunder outside, with the knowledge that some one stole a good 5000 rupees from the room where I was asleep, from right over my head.... literally. I was so in the vestiges of my dreamworld that I did not note when reality stole in and took away fifteen days of suffering's result.

Damn.

My face fell the other day and hit the pavement along with the rest of my body. OUCH!

So then I picked myself up, looked around, quite embarassed... and walked on, and suddenly felt a sharp pain in my left ankle. Again. Damn.


I went home with my leg aching, and sore throat, and the next day I got myself a job.

Nothing fancy, though, but still, a job.

And this is how life goes on... mundane, moral and misogynistic.

I used to call my friends up and they used to tell me that nothing much went on in their lives.... what about me? And me being the one leading the "exciting" life, told them all how weird it was to look outside the window and see the clouds make patterns or something equally normal into something supernatural, out-of-this-place, just to tell them that life is not all about looking at a thing from the angle of a practical, dead vision............. expand your mind, free it, and the rest will follow.

I sound Osho.

But thats it. You have to let go, and see how wonderous this world is... I can fall for it over and over and over again, and realize the beauty of it, and the ugliness, and it fills me up with pleasure to know that I can perhaps tell others and they can convey it to others, and maybe I will be able to spread the message.

And at the moment of enlightening, the sky darkens, and the wind blows, and the earth goes Kaplooweeey.... and thats that.

End of the story, people, move along now.

The people I know nowadays....

Bimbabati = a charming adorable piece of ulikimittichhanalebaba who can twirl the world around her little finger and smugly proclaim "Hnu Hnu bawa".... and well, I guess she can, because this little midget has to be the littlest atom bomb that has hit the mind-zone of Panu. I proclaim her, in charming adoration, the female form of Puss-in-Boots a la Antonia Banderas.


Peep = Obsessed with her bottom and upper and lower body and other numerous bits and pieces of her mind and soul, I often lose myself in the world she creates in her words.... needless to say, I was one of those hapless victims who cried herself to sleep in the middle of the night because of her farewell post to JUDE. Other victims include the Babel, Sukanya, and the Fish (this is another fish, not the BABEL, I repeat, NOT THE BABEL).

Rimi = A blogger with an attitude problem (at this point I expect Insults, complaints and bricks, but shall not waver from the point) who claims she is the calamity Jane of Kolkatan JUDEan scene.... she holds the Sapphic cup of warm tea in her left hand and a nice bar of Mars dangles from the right. Believes in almost anything, from psychic mindfucks to weeping wombats... she comes to me on a summer dream, and I sort of bask in her glory.

And then,

Kaichu = a population all by herself, she defines and defies explanation and makes my head swim with her ability to speak nonstop for god-knows-what-hours in the middle of the night when I face with the horror of a load-shedding. She is to me what Eve is to Adam, my original SIN.

To the humble reader, KAICHU is mine, and the aforementioned three creatures who are wonderous and beautiful are rather late in pursuit, for I have given Kaichu a ring. And here I say it, I don't expect fidelity, but I do expect a feel.

As Time Goes By...

So the last few days have been a whirlwind in motion, what with my never-ending interviews with no luck and the trip to Sikkim and all... *sigh* painful, painful days spent at Oly, sweating and sipping long glasses of alcohol-tinged soft drink drowned in Ice.... and then waiting to get the return tickets confirmed... Ah what extreme life I lead!!

And then the Peep and I over dark darker darkest chocolates discussed the pains of being alive, and how to drown it by getting a tonne of lard and God-knows-howmuch caffeine in our veins in deliciously shaped packages... Ah the horror, the Horror.....

So then I was returning from Cheeni Kum the other day.... The MAN can still run, I say!!!! I was bowled over yet. Somehow a man above 60 should not be allowed to be that sexy. Its just me. I just saw him.

And I was coming back and the auto was amazingly packed, and I had the side seat and was getting all the air on my face, doing Lord-Knows-What to my already unmanageable hair. And I was quite outrageously happy despite my Mother who had come to see the movie with me... and been gushing lyrical over it. So I got down from my auto and what do I realize?

The print on the auto seat was one large picture of Gerard Butler from 300, this one to be precise.




And well, his mouth was open, and I had been sitting on top.


Btw, I shall be imparting erotological wisdom pretty soon so stay tuned to the next light year or so.

"I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,

But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,

Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;

And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,

Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:

I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion. "

Dowson knew what its like. When the pain in your gut eats you away and you hide your face against the pillow and scream and cry your heart out but still there is no relief, and you promise to the distant North Star at three in the morning to make you forget.... to heal... but it does not help.


It just does not. Its so pathetic... this sham of indifference that you adapt. "I Do Not----" is such a lie, and your friends listen to you sympathetically but you still feel guilty because half your mind is not there, its been locked away for life, and the effort is so much that you feel drained.

Damn I am being sickeningly pitifully "nyaka"....


So dushhala, I dont bleeding care any longer. I dont think I am all that bad. I am healthy, apart from the ache I have from the Topple... and all, I think I am just fine. I am dancing and boozing and singing and basically my exams are over and I have got myself a JOB. So I am fine. Fine.

Oh me who must have to fight over the Kaichu with The Peep and the Sen. I shalt not chharify ek piece of medini in this.


Kaichu you are MINE, and MINE AND MINE.

There, thats done.



MINE I TELL YOU!!! MILLS AND BOONS KI KASAM!!!


DIBS.

Oh me!! Who saw the bad movie of the year.... and has to fight over the Kaichu and find cash ASAP.

Taaaaaaaa---------g

Peep tagged. I tag others. Just you wait... heathu and cheshire cat.





1. Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it:


I have one on the forefinger of my right hand. Age 9. An argument that I won against Ma.






2. What is on the walls in your room?


An amazing Poster of Two brown and white puppies dominate my North Wall. One of those puppies have eyes that make me want to do the "BOOCHOO... OOLIKIMITTICHHANALEBABA" to it. My South Wall has a poster of Harry Potter. And there is a bookshelf on that wall that lost a door because of overflow. Knowledge! How heavy it sits sometimes.






3. What does your phone look like?

Its white and pink and violet and blue. Very Girlie. My Dad chose it. Its Nokia, so basically Indestructible (I have tried, trust me) and the only thing that has happened to it after four years of misuse is a little scratch on its cover.






4. What music do you listen to?





All sorts. I am not picky. It all depends on my mood.






5. What is your current desktop picture?





This picture:
Courtesy : Avikda. He is a fabulous artist.



6. What do you want more than anything right now?

Peace. And a Vacation.

7. Do you believe in gay marriage?

I do. As soon as it is legal in India, I am marrying Andro. And Kaichu. And Jane. And D. And Jhumpus. And Maddy.

I think Polygamy is punishable... na?

8. What time were you born?

Bikelbela probably. I forgot. I just know that the day was Bangla Bundh. So my dad and my grandmother had to walk 6 miles to reach the hospital.

9.Are your parents still together?


Yes. I still think they made a mistake, though.


10. What are you listening to?

The Night.

12. The last person to make you cry?

K.

13. What is your favourite perfume/cologne?

Gucci's Envy. Calvin Klein's Contradiction for men. And the smell of roses and Lavender Talc. And the wet khus khus on hot summer days.

14. What kind of hair/eye colour do you like on the opposite sex?

Umm... Hair colour? Eye colour? erm.... I think it depends on the person and suitability.... though long hair turn me on. And piercing.

15. Do you like pain killers?

Can anything kill pain?

16. Are you too shy to ask someone out?

I did ask someone out once, so no, I dont think I am.

17. Fave pizza topping?

Pepperoni and plenty of cheese. And jalapeno peppers and mushrooms and shredded lamb.

18. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?

Chocolates. Dark chocolates dripping with caramel... oozing nougat and more caramel. And a glass of frothy cold machiatto to go with it.

No matter what People thinks of my taste. Dark chocolates, NOUGAT and CARAMEL.


19. Who was the last person you made mad?

I make everyone mad. I am insane, je. But I think the last person I shall make mad will be Panu.

20. Is anyone in love with you?

I wish.

I really do.
There. I does allsorts of stuff. I tag two people, ar parina.

Wonder of all wonders, why must I turn my head and smile graciously at every mistake I have ever made in my life?

Because I am a pushover.

A pushover who knows she is a pushover. That's the worst kind.

So screw me!

Anyway, whatever. All these amazing love affairs just pass me by, and I am left holding the glass of Vodka (Fuel, by the way).

So there was this man who told me he was going to come down in the merry month of May, but did he?

Nooooooo. He is too busy getting screwed up by his job and his precious CEO who is as big a jerk as he is.

And is Panu getting any thing out of this? Just because this is just another time a jerk has stood her up (well, except, this time, she has been stood up for a whole frigging month rather than a lousy two hours… but anyway, how does time matter here?) and all this humongous annoying shit is just buggering the hell out of her, and I am tense and wary because this world has ended and the bleeding sky has fallen, and yet another fabulous faux pas has been committed by the DAD early this night, and well, MA being Ma, is rattling on about her historical lessons (Chapter One: So in 1984 your mother told me that she did not want the curry too salty and I was only a child of 24 who barely knew anything……) and the SIS was being nasty and painted a few masterpieces on her canvas in revenge and I ended up throwing caution (read carefully charted out diet plan for the next lifetime) to the wind and indulged in a plate of Chicken A-La Olypub (and Oh Lord was that Bliss or What) and then came back to a roomful of nastiness… not to mention the half an hour I had to stand outside a seedy joint, waiting for someone to come out who did not at all like me standing there waiting…

And that's where this post ends.

This Image.

Need I say more?

Twist... Twist....

so everything went sort of surreal this evening.

There I was walking down College Street in the afternoon, my mind clouded with worry over my impending doom (read MA finals without studies) and Andromeda's general physical condition, and I was on my way to meet Maddy for a simple tete-a-tete at coffee house, only to find out other members of my gerobaaj group

So over Chicken Kabiraaji and cold coffee and The Diary of Don Rigoberto and Tutu Bhutu and lots and lots of adda I was basically relaxed, and it stretched till Paramount where over cold glass of cream green mango sherbet we were discussing Satyajit Ray and Soumitro and Sibram Chakraborty and whatnot.... and I looked at the shining faces (sweaty and glistening) and realized that this was what I was going to miss.... this sense of relaxing shall just leave.

And suddenly I did not want to stay with them any longer. I felt like the serpent in Paradise and I wanted to get away. But then I was stuck in a little shop around College street corner, and I was back five years, when I used to pay 5 rupees for one book and come home loving the bargain and the book. Animal Farm.

The man looked at me with accusing, yet strangely gentle eyes, and said, "Why have you not come for so long? "

I gave some non-committal reply, feeling guilty. It was as if I have not looked after my best friend... and I was guilty of ignoring them.

And I looked at the books and I walked on.

And then the world went *topple*.

Can topple be a sound effect? It so is what happened to me this evening.

And I looked at the scattered books and my purse and my ankle turned in a strange angle, and I vaguely realized that it was not the way it should have been.

So I pulled it back to normal with a little twist and then crawled into a taxi that one of those pedestrians called up and then the world went black for around five minutes.

I woke to pain and pain and pain.

And then My Dear Dad gave me the dose of two painkillers and two large whisky.

And yes, I am shot.

I am twisted and back on line. I am BAAACKK!!

Unki yeh shikayaat hai ke hum kuch nahin kehte,

Unki Yeh shikayaat hai ke hum kuch nahin kehte...

Par apna to yeh adat hai ke hum kuch nahi kehte.

Kehne ko bahut kuch tha agar kehne pe aate,

Kehne ko bahut kuch tha agar kehne pe aate...

Par apni tp yeh adat hai ke hum kuch nahi kehte.

Kuch kehe to tufan utha leti hai yeh duniya,

Kuch kehe to tufan utha leti hai yeh duniya...

Chup rehe toh duniya kehte hai hum kuch nahi kehte....


Ghalib.

You told me lies tonight. Showed me no future. None. I hate you.

I hate you and I love you and I know I can never get over what you mean to me.

If only you knew. If only.



Meandering through the narrow roads to eternity... all falls down. This world is mine. I own it. Worthless shit.

Fringes of hair fall on my face, the whirring motion of the fan irritates me, but I still walk on, move on... never give up. Don't look back. Don't please give me this shit about you caring, because I know you don't give a damn, but I do and that is that.

Question to myself: am I losing in this situation? Am I the biggest, sorest loser born on the face of this sorry-assed universe?

Sadly, yes.

I am. And the tragedy is, I can't even stop it. Or unwind it. Or give up.




I just have to give in.

No... it is not working

To tell you the truth, I do not know if I am fit to write all this in the state I am in. I have not slept in 23 hours and my eyes feel like they will pop out any moment. But this I can't resist. I know this is not really my forte. I do not know if I do emotions well. My one display of true emotions got turned down as Illogical Psychological Reaction. So there!

But today after we were coming back from Milonda's canteen at JU, I was lagging behind Peep, watching her butt sway slightly, enticingly as she moved like a dancer, and Fish was giving me little, concerned looks behind her back that made her eyes glow in the dusky lamplight... I do not know how often have I seen a scene more beautiful, the sky darkened to an iridescent shade of near-midnight blue, transluscently the dusk fell all around us and I never wanted that moment to end, just stand there and have meaningless chit-chat with the two of them and let the moment continue. But that moment reality called, and I was on the bus to my way home, and on the way I was thinking of the way our farewell in Xavier's went where there were long boring speeches interspersed by Saru pulling on his tie because he was getting sweaty and hot, and Anni's yawns that were never-ending, and Sabby wanting to go to the loo and T S clicking photos. Andro was the rock, sitting beside me and letting me play snake in her cell-phone.

Afterwards we had gone to the little coffee bar where over Nestea and hideously sugarless coffee Anni had suddenly asked, "Achha what do you think about me?" to everyone else. It led to a long discussion about how everyone felt about everyone else and in the end nothing was resolved or said really, just a list of what we liked/did not like about everyone else in the gang was established.

And then there was the time in my school when we were given some glitter powder and asked to sprinkle it over someone else's head and confess whatever we wanted to. I remember wanting to use it on the crush I had, only to find someone else getting there first and being readily accepted. I stood back and let the couple move away, then charged on the Professor whose classes I hated because I was a perpetual mathophobic and he was the worst of the lot....

And then on Friday, I did not quite understand the impact of leaving JU. It was only after I came home and was preparing to go out, I received the full impact of it, and I was suddenly afraid. I hated feeling lost, and it was exactly what I was feeling.

But then, I have regretted my life sometimes, and loved it in moments. And today I was being jerked and thrown virtually everywhere on the bus, and finally I hung on to the window ledge and looked back and wanted to tell all those people whom I have met in JUDE and around JU exactly what they were to me... but I failed to tell them.

I wanted to tell Fish that I would miss her because she is one of the people I care about in JU.... but I forgot.

I wanted to tell Kaichu that I love her, but I was too afraid.

I wanted to tell Rimi to be a bit more responsible in real life, but I wondered if my advice would be welcome or not.

I wanted to tell Mou that people come in all shapes and sizes, and are loved for it. And she too shall be... but she was not there.

I wanted to tell Bimbo that she was the most beautiful little thing in JUDE I have had my pleasure of meeting, but she slipped away.

I wanted to tell Peep that she will always bounce back because thats the way she is... but I was sort of dazzled by her splendour.

And I wanted to tell my agesake to not impart wisdom where it was not required, but I realized that the effort would be too great... and it would not be appreciated at all!

All this, and more. Sometimes, I wonder why I do these things... tell people. But then, I do. I have seen that putting things out in the open tend to make them lose all their importance.

Sitting here in front of the computer typing down endless lines of my never-ending term paper is hell. I hate it. Thats why sometimes I like typing meaningless lines just to make it better.

I got a few saved.


Heroic and-tic-lime-axe. (Macbeth)


More for gits, hmm? (Samson Agonistes)

Eminem and unconscious souls of Eliot perhaps shall rule. (The Autobiographical elements in Rap term paper)

Growing up, I had nose-picking moments. (Araby - James Joyce)

Ewes might not have udders. Who is to know? (erm, King Lear)

Fandays should be made. ( Grateful Dead presentation )

Porlock and Kubla are on simultaneous planes. (No prizes for guessing)

Quite western frontiers are never true. (Strangely, this is the English Patient )

Ah well... on the other hand, Mortification is the dish of the day. In fact it has been the dish for the last three days.

Another Day....

Just when Panu was thinking about giving up on life, and love and everything in between, I found out that there is more to life than the occasional grief... you know. And it passes pretty soon, leaving a void that I had to fill up.

So there I was shouting at the top of my lungs : "Whose Kubla Ij It?" and smearing chocolate cake on general unsuspecting (and suspecting and appreciating a choco-facial) public who were equally maenadian in their gestures, and among the sound and the fury, I walked off to see 300.

I dont care what other people says, I loved it. It was the beauty of savagery in motion, and I liked every bit of it. Panu thought it was perhaps a tad too on the scary side, but it was all right until the hunky guy she liked lost his head (literally).

Home, heart filled with joy at the sight of my cousin, my Guru... I lay my head on her lap and inhaled the smoke-powdery sari and mild sweat flavour she wore on her. She is so cool and untouched, poised and benign. My first love, my first protector against the ministers of darkness.

And the night brought on something new. Panu found on her message box a friend request at orkut. What was interesting was, this person was NOT interested in scrapping. When asked, he gave the following reasons:

U have a point there - about the scrap heap of this life being already too littered!! Though never thought about it from quite that perspective. (But, my objection to the scrapbook is sort of related to it.) Obviously, it pays to interact with perceptive people! Well, I have a three-fold distaste for the scrapbook.First : The scrapbook is accessible to everyone and there is no privacy. Somehow, I am not comfortable about some third party( or parties - to make it worse) being a privy to what is essentially private communication - however innocuous - between two persons. (When I say 'I am not comfortable....', I 'd rather like to share a personal secret with u; I am more with the British in the penchant for understatement!) Second : I find the other connotations of scrap rather disturbing. Scrap as a verb is really abominable; I just can't think of scrapping anyone !! Scrap is not a word of choice for me here. And so .... I don't send scraps and I don't scrap anyone! (yea, it takes all sorts to make the world - particularly some quaint types!) Third : I find most entries in most scraps just that - a heap of scrap! And, I prefer more august company. (Pardon me if I sound too bloody egoistic!)

At this point, one must pause and think. And wonder.






Okk and I found a friend. One who loves music as much as I do, If not more.

Afterlove

He came to her in the middle of the night when she least expected.

And then the sky darkened, and rain fell, and they twisted in the middle of the big bed, clawing and fighting with each other, hurting each other and marvelling at the extent they could hurt if they really tried. They tore off their clothes, they did not care what went first, as long as they did. And then they were pushing each other, straining and restraining to prolong the contact, as if this was the last time they would. And he entered her and they shook and trembled at the intensity and friction... and then the short climb to ecstasy began, but it was more than that, it was a beginning and an end, and she could not stop her tears as he buried his face against her neck and trembles with the bliss and the joy. She mouthed the three words over and over and over again as he poured inside her the fruits of their passion, her legs spread obscenely wide in acceptance.

And then all stilled and she could feel the cold air hit her wet ears. She was so tired. So was he. They fell asleep. locked in the embrace as primitive as life itself, and when the morning came, he was gone.


* * *


Even before she opened her eyes, she knew he was gone.... there was just an emptiness beside her, a place was barren where her heart had placed him. It was strangely numb------ this feeling of loss. She could not really believe it was there at first, but then it hit her ------------- the cold. It struck her smack in the chest and she gasped pitifully and scoured her head to dredge up the thought of what to do next.

She was so tired.... she did not even know if she could open her eyes and face the day again. She just wanted to shut out the world and all and forget herself in sleep.

But at that moment, betrayal struck. Sleep eluded her. She tossed and turned, but the cold that had spread inside her refused her the warm safety of slumber. It denied her the only escape she would have had. She stared at the ceiling and counted away the whirling time, as the morning passed to day and moved towards the afternoon, and she twisted her fingers and contemplated her loss. Soon she began to shake silently, that turned into a gentle sway------ to and fro----- to and fro------ as she came apart in her knowledge.

He was gone.

Gone.

GONE.

For Ever.

For Life.

He was not going to come back.

Ever.

And the tears did not fall. What fell so easily last night at the beauty did not fall in grief. She started to whimper but the tears did not fall. Soon she realized that there were no moisture seeping from her eyes.

It enraged her. It made her so angry that she began to scream ------ short, staccatto bursts erupted from her throat that changed quickly into high-pitched wails and shrieks of disbelief and denial.

Where were the tears? Why could she not cry? Why? Why why why?


She clutched the pillow and bunched it against her chest, bringing her knees up together as she lay on her side, her long hair spread on the pillow, her eyes widely open. She breathed rapidly, in short gulps she inhaled and released the air just as quickly. She was bewildered and angry. Where had all the tears gone? Why could she not cry it out? What was wrong?


And she heard the lady downstairs play on her ancient cassette player something familiar. Something that she had once listened to as a child-------- when her parents used to look at one another with a smile on their face, but refused to share the joke--------- and the shadows fell across the room from the window, making patterns on the tiles as the sun began to set.

"Maine poochha chaand se,
Ke dekha hai kahin
Mere Yaar sa Haseen.

Chaand ne kaha,
Chandni ki kasam,
Nahin, nahin, nahin.


The room was a mess. The books had fallen from her bed, clothes were randomly spilled in colourful puddles on the floor, dust had settled on her shelves, and an empty cup graced the nightstand. She got up, rubbed her eyes with the back of her left palm and yawned. Then she began to pick up the clothes and fold them into a neat pile. The song went on outside. She pushed aside the falling fringes of her hair as she worked, and slowly began to hum the tune.

And then....

Gloop. Gloop.



The world has folded upon itself. And it makes a sound something like this.


I took it from Equal Rites. Pratchett is the Saviour.





He really is.

Of Monos and Men.....

Read this. PLEASE. * After Monday.*




I ask those people who have read the post I have been pointing at with bold types, when you go home and face yourself in the mirror at the end of the day and sigh a little sigh that thank God I was not involved directly then you feel that the world is a selfish place.


And this man takes the cake around JUDE. Thanks to him, JUDE shall always be accompanied in my memories as a place sullied by his presence.

I shall not forget my professors.... who have been staunchly supporting our cause.

Kudos to Babelfish, Teleute, Somnath, Aritra for sticking up for those who are in the mess.

This sounds embarrassingly like a thank-you note, but I shall not continue in this area because I feel that personal involvement is equal to being biased. And I am personally involved in this.

leaving on a freaking train....

which is at 10 tonight.


Miss you already Kolkata.


Havent left it though.


I hate best friends getting married. I will miss my first best friend. I dont care even if people think we rule the greengrocer's shops.




I dont wanna see her hitched. I DONT!!!!

26th February. Seven days to Best Friend Getting Hitched.

So there I was, twirling my pen idly and wondering what the hell was this exam for and why was I such an idiot so as to give it? Sitting for it made me realize that I knew nothing of such matters as what is the first "rockumentary"... and stuff like that.

Friggit.

Ah on the other hand.

Have freaked out last night with buddies and generally have been musifucked till the head groaned in protest.

Have had Flury's er Black forest Cake after cocking a snoot to my diet chart, with the chant "50 crunches" rolling around my befuddled head.

Have effectively lost my voice for the umpteenth time due to dust allergy in book fair, because Panu had to go and look at a book called "Sex tips for Straight women from a gay man". ENLIGHTENING. Very.

Have bought four major Tennessee Williams novel for seventy rupees. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, A Streetcar Named Desire and Sweet Bird of Youth has the stills from the film.

Bought my laptop. Own money, apunka pride rules.

Have got best friend her complete wedding cosmetics set. Woman is jumping with joy... because of a promise for a male stripper on her bachelorette party. I NEED a Stripper. Male. Someone who can carry off Black Leather.

Have also got her a brand new peach lace teddy. Future Hubby's expression is what I want to Find Out.


Lots of things.


I Am making lists.

Oh Oh Oh, and have finally decided to get a life. ASAP.

Update: Asked Deep and Iru about the Stripper bit. Both declined.... quite unpolitely that is. Men. They can be so shy sometimes, I tell you.

Hmm. The season changes with misty murkiness, and Panu realizes that her time in JUDE is almost up. Another three months, and she shall be able to put the words M.A. after her name. And be off to the wider world of nasty, annoying superficiality that awaits her star-struck gaze.

So what’s so new about the world that she has not seen already? Now, now, lets not pretend here. Panu has seen the world. She has seen this little universe she inhabits to the minutest details… and experienced and criticized in her mind, analyzing and putting away the bile that has been stored up within, only to vomit them out here, in this particular post she is writing.

No, strangely enough, this is not a bitch post, as her friend Rimi calls them. Panu cannot bitch about people all that much. She really can’t put people down at the drop of a hat, either. That's because Panu believes in looking into a person’s face and telling him/her exactly whom he/she is messing with.

By the way, to tell the truth, bitching does have its advantages and sometimes Panu does indulge it in a bit, but nothing she cannot repeat in the face of the person concerned.

You know what? Lets make this a funny post, filled with nothing in it. I would like to be superficial. I do believe that it takes a lot of depth to be superficial. But to be nasty and superficial, it takes a lot more.

Panu is becoming famous. People are bitching about her behind her back. Wow!! That's like… super good, cause that means, they somehow feel threatened by Panu’s existence. It means, they consider her to be a challenge, and therefore needs to be put down. Panu would like to say that she feels like Shylock, who had to be sent out of the play for all to be better. Or like Feste in Twelfth Night who became steadily numb as “rain it raineth every day”.

What else? All right. This was not a post in defense of me, or an apology for being me, although this might be called by the backbiters both… This is an acknowledgement of me being me. I am, and therefore I am. And I will be me. No changes. I wont change… not become anorexic because my haute friends thinks I should lose 20 kilos right away, not change my attitude though people might think I am slow and stupid… and yes, basically be exactly the way I am, and remain uncaring and unconcerned, and in general the Mary Poppins attitude I do possess.

P.S. this post was to vent the irritation. I hate losers who have nothing else to do but be nasty to others, however learned they might be. Otherwise, I’m cool.

St. Valentine's Day, 2007

In the shadows of broken images

My half-lies become truths

I fight through the valley of darkness

And gain the sordid sense of perfection

That contaminated me. I who am so imperfect,

Unsound, unsung, unheard, must hear

the Voice of those who still live, and wonder

When will my time come?


Its just me. Today, I learnt how to exist

Tomorrow, I just might learn to live.

Just might. But its all in the murky depths,

Where all is lost.

I hope to find it one day, and realize

The glory of this loss, and that fulfillment

Till then, let me lie in peace.

The Fare of Intellect

Well, the winter is almost off Kolkata, but the chill left around the middle of December when the first Singur issues came over, followed by the controversy of book fair to be held in Maidan.


I love book fair. When I was 9, my aunt took me to the book fair for the first time, and I was hooked. It was everything I dreamed of and everything I wished for. My only regret was that I did not get enough time to browse through every bookstall.


I go to the book fair every year, without fail. Most of the time I go alone. I enter and get lost in the immense number of people moving in snail’s pace all over. What do I love the most? The books, of course. And yes, I like bumping into a celebrity and utter a half-muffled “sorry” before realizing that “Hallo, This is-------!!”


But this time it was to be shifted. The High Court believes that the book fair will be a great source of pollution, so it is to be shifted somewhere other than the Kolkata Maidan, right at the heart of the city. Yes, that's actually something I support. Despite the fact that I want the Book Fair to be held, I believe that it can be held anywhere… the “Sanskritik Paribesh” (Cultural Environment) is an essence that can be achieved anywhere, given the right attitude.


It is not fair anyway for any fair to be held in the Kolkata Maidan. But for three years our chief minister had literally bullied the law to gain permission for the book fair to be held in Maidan. Why is this?? Because the chief minister does not want to ruin the “culture” of the Bengalis.


What culture?? Is the culture not ruined when Bengali language is compromised in the schoolbooks?? Is the culture not ruined when Bengali filmmakers directly copy and paste Hindi movies, word & action and all?? Is culture not ruined when in the name of protest a farce is played out right at the heart of the city??


I shall not vent my wrath on this issue further. It makes me wonder why do the media make such a big deal out of the shift of the book fair. There has been shifts and changes all the time, and in time, acceptance shall come. To tell the truth, I know that only about 5% of the vast population that streams through the book fair actually come for the books. Most of them give an appearance to –


a. meet celebrities,

b. appear intellectual and well-read,

c. meet and hang out with friends,

d. sample food from the numerous stalls,

e. look with wonder what a huge funny Disneyland type thing is on, without the Disney bit hanging out.



And I love book fair. Yes I do. But this is not the way it should be held. It is becoming an issue of grave political power play and that is where the line should be drawn. I as a book lover would not ever support that.


Now for the other bit. I was watching the debate today after the high court passed the decision, and in the news channel, they were holding a sort of opinion poll. SMS after SMS came in favour of the book fair, and most of them have horrid errors. From the Cultured, Educated Bengalis who are trying to promote book fair in Maidan, here are a few gems:


1. Certainly it must be held in Maidan. We wan our bo ok far. (Ok-ay)

2. This is very humiliating for the books. (It is?)

3. We want proper athurity to juge. On it is not cultural program. It is only buisness (Go tell that to the authority)

4. Great decision. Its high time someone care about envoirnment. (Yep… we care about it too)

5. Congratulations to the high court for such a high decisions (oh, the lofty heights!!)

6. Bai Mela ekhon tarunder prem korar jayga hochhe. [yep. Bai Bai Baby]

7. If no book fair we deprive. Why we deprive? (what an intellectual question. Answers anyone?)

8. Yes kolkata book fare(?) should not be change. Maidan court of book fare. (ummmm………)

9. Maidane bhoy mela hog ager moto. (OOH, I am scared!!)

10. Book fair must must be allowed allowed in Maidan only. (I don’t don’t think so!)



And the winner is:






11. It is a very Sade case this loss of position.


By the way, the book fair is being held. At Yubabharati Krirangan ( Am too lazy to give you the link here.... go look up wikimapia for it) ..... and I am as happy as a lark because its less than 5 minutes from my home. By auto.

I think, therefore I Ask

I don’t know why the last few posts have been pathetically, wistfully, gloomy. I think I need to get laid… this is getting way too far. I mean, look at me.

I AM AN ABSOLUTE DISHRAG. I mean, What Am I? A Woman or a Wimp?


I AM A WIMP.

Damn.

This is what I hate. I am a Wimp. A total wimp when it matters. In my life, everyone thinks I am all brave and stuff (Kaichu being one such unfortunate), but I am not. Not really. I am a wimp when the Aunty next seat in BCL raps at me to be quiet, and I don’t turn to her to say, “excuuuuse me Madam, but BCL is not your father’s house, understood?” rather, be content after mouthing a silent “beeyach” to Kamalika (JUDE, UGII)… and a wimp when the auto rickshaw wallah spanks my thighs while “attempting” to start the self-start (fucker) and I discreetly make the indistinct noise, ”Tchah!”. I am a wimp when a damn professor is glaringly incorrect but I refuse to open my mouth to correct him, I am a wimp when I refuse to make a rumpus when the heavy breather behind me presses his arousal against my buttock (I do stamp down hard with my ‘killer’ 4-inch spikes though… asshole!), and I am a wimp when the man who made me a mockery scraps me on orkut and tries to be all sweetness and light, because he needs to keep a clean reputation.

So this new-year, although a bit too late, I have decided not to be a wimp any more. I hereby solemnly swear, no more Miss I-Cant-Speak-Out-Coz-I’m-the-Reincarnation-of-Pollyanna-in-Real-Life.


And I need to ask one question… “Is a hot chick cool or a cool chick hot?” (As asked by SRK in a song promoting KBC)

Just emni.


And er, yes, I know I am basically hopeless and really, no post matches no post in content and action or stuff, but you keep coming back because you like/love/hate me, na? Don’t be indifferent. I hate it. All the time.


*Dhoosh*

L is for the way...

“I’m not free. I never was and I never will be.”

“I know your flaws, but I can’t stop thinking of you.”

"Please, baby."

"Baby, please."

“Don’t lie to me. I know you too well. Please stop lying. Please.”

“I can’t stay. Not any longer. I can’t stay, baby.”

“Please, baby.”

“I am sorry.”

"This is not working out."

“I am so sorry.”

“Sorry.”


The pen falls, the lamps dim, and thin hearts stop beating. Love dies. Suddenly.




Do you know what loneliness is like?? It is worse, far worse than dying. Because death is a surety. You never know when loneliness hits you with the vast acres of open land inside you, and you suddenly realize how tired you are, how exhausted. All you want to do is have a night’s sleep… sleep that you need, sleep that you covet. But sleep eludes you. You stare hollow-eyed at the ceiling, waiting for something, anything. But nothing comes. Nothing happens. Nothing.

Love you. Love you. Love you so much. Its like dying, sometimes it hurts so bad that it feels like there is nothing beyond the pain. And beyond the pain, lies the peace. The peace that soothes and calms. The peace that comes after letting go. The peace that dulls the ache, and loosens the strings.

It did not work. It was not meant to, perhaps.

Good bye my darling. I will remember. But good bye for now.