Rain on a misty cold December morning

There are few occasions, especially in Kolkata, when you’d have rain on a cold winter morning. It’s incredibly depressing to even hear that, let alone watch it. But there is that charm, that wet coldness which stirs the inside of you. It doesn’t rattle you. It doesn’t numb you. It begs you to step up, to be counted.

After an exam season worth remembering and not remembering both, the first morning I wake up to find a misty-wet-early December morning made me realize that the typical everyday-chilly-wet-mountain mornings could also be found on the plains. It made me yearn ever yet again to be curled up somewhere in the hills. And with D beside me. As always.

" I have nothing to lose "

This is how I see us now.

This is how I see us in the future.

This is how I see us always.

The first drops of winter

The chill is back. Dull skies. Beneath the cloudy feathers. I took an exam. I tried to study, except I never really knew what I did all the while then. I came to you, and there I was myself, being crazier than the mad lark doing somersaults above the airfield. I feel like cuddling up with you. I feel like just holding you tight, and sitting in a corner on the bed, in a room with just the night lamp on.

It’s the weather of the blues.

Winter is settling in.

15/10/10

Sometimes somethings are beautiful. Some ‘times’ are just beautiful. You can’t describe them in words. It wouldn’t do justice.

Beauty isn’t in what you can always express. Beauty isn’t always the one to be caught on celluloid. Beauty isn’t the one to be chased in elusive pursuit. Beauty is to be cherished. Beauty is pure; tranquil; quintessential on the outside, a big bubble in reality, a bubble which can never burst. Beauty is us.

The moments, those which can drown the darkest of sorrows and brighten the life beyond the realms of nothingness, are priceless.

You make me.
You complete me.
You are in me.
Always.
Forever.

I love you.

Mohastami. Durgastami. Auspicious. Momentous. Special.

It’s all worth it.

It's beautiful.

" I stepped back and all I saw was rain through windowpanes that looked like melting silver... "

Why is it life always comes a full circle? I remember PP had mocked fun at me. I owe her no hard feelings, since. However, today i realize what a ride she has been taken on. Maybe love indeed has these strange Harry Potter rides, which never really are what they seem to be.

Catch 22 - The recollection

M.E.M.O.R.I.E.S

F.R.I.E.N.D.S

L.O.V.E

I have had birthdays. You all have had birthdays. We all have them. Sometimes we celebrate. Sometimes we have fun. Sometimes we screw up. Sometimes, well, we just let the day pass. And, sometimes, we just do all that together. I have had one of those birthdays, not long back.

I had wishes aplenty. I had messages abound. I replied to everyone who remembered me.

I expected the surprise.  Was just surprised by the absence of a few. I was stumped by the beautiful collection of notes and messages. I was bowled over by the cake. I had a great time.

I had the prettiest flowers. I had the perfect notebook. I had the tiny book. I had the perfect person.

I had the the surprise gifts. I had a gala time. I had fags. I had fun.

And then, I had the Queen of all surprises. I had the yummiest-chocolatiest-tastiest-bestest-awesommest-brilliantest homemade cake ever.

And, I had introductions made.

And, I had a great time. A G.R.E.A.T TIME.

And I had certain dreams coming true.

I had THE  T.I.M.E   O.F   M.Y   L.I.F.E

Poached Eggs

I love Poached Eggs. Fantabulously mind-blowing. As you bite the yolk, with the juice flowing ever slightly down your fingers, and the sprinkled salt and pepper making it finger-lickin'-good, the feeling is just awesome.


I can have Poached Eggs with baked slices of bread, with Beef Steak, and with American Chopsuey. These are usual. Try it with Maggi. Cook the Maggi noodles and place it on a pair of poached eggs and have it. Try Poached eggs with small chopped pieces of Tomato and Coriander Leaves sprinkled. you can also try it on a Pizza, but the Pizza lovers might just hate the loss of the Italiano Flavour, but trust me, It does taste good.


The perfect blend of Continental Cuisine and Homemade Indian tweaks.

Sometimes you chance upon something, that something which can strike you right inside. It will cut you through and yet it won’t kill you. You will just know it’s you, in a way. I chanced upon Pablo Neruda tonight. Years back I had chanced upon Khaled Hosseini. It’s my style. It’s my pattern. Deep layered enigmatic imagery irony of emotions. I love the pieces.

I am not supposed to be awake now. I am supposed to be tired. I am teary again. I miss D. Ruffle of the hair. That way.

What of the time when I am not with you. When I only have to rei(g)n in the afterglow. When I have to go yearning for you while oblivious to the world. I am oblivious now. I am in tears. I don’t believe myself while I am writing. I dread to discover your pain. I can’t do without knowing that either. I can give my life for you. I know I don’t need to do that, but you are everything. E.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g.  I can’t live without you. I love you.

Today meant a lot. A “l.o.t” as you say it. God Bless.

Hope is not in what I know 
Not in me 
It's in You 

It's all I know 

And I find peace When I'm confused 
I find hope when I'm let down 
Not in me 
But in You 

I hope to lose myself 
For good 
I hope to find it in the end 
Not in me 
It's You 

It's all I know 

Do You ?

Do you take chances?

Do you win?

Do you live your dream?

Do you dare?

Do you snatch the beam?

Do you try?

Do you give up?

Do you crack?

Do you measure?

Do you have the knack?

Do you weaken?

Do you strike?

Do you go fragile?

Do you feel?

Do you go in exile?

Do you mourn?

Do you regret?

Do you desire?

Do you yearn?

Do you inspire?

Do you fire?

Do you breathe?

Do you inhale?

Do you conceal?

Do you believe in a fairy tale?

Do you open your arms?

Do you run?

Do you welcome?

Do you want to be?

Do you not believe in a modicum?

Do you want to be a hero?

Do you fight?

Do you struggle?

Do you scream?

Do you wear the coat of the eagle?

Do you express?

Do you wink?

Do you kiss?

Do you sneak in?

Do you not want to go amiss?

Do you marvel?

Do you astonish?

Do you wonder?

Do you forsake?

Do you want to be an absconder?

Do you stick?

Do you stink?

Do you snob?

Do you bicker?

Do you yearn to be the heartthrob?

Do you love?

Do you smile?

Do you care?

Do you grumble?

Do you think all is fair?

Do you think?

Do you ponder?

Do you now bid adieu?

Do you live?

Do you?

(Formerly) Informal

I am informal.

I can hold hands on the road. You can find me taking a forcible seat on the roadside just to laugh out the joke/khorak/khilli that I just heard and can’t take while simply standing. I can cuddle up in a resto. I can even sit on the table joking and fooling around. I eat with my hands unless I don’t feel the need to use a fork/spoon or unless the setting/situation demands me to. I can enjoy and devour my food forgetting ‘etiquette’. I can crack a joke and laugh out loud amidst loved ones. I sometimes eat with my mouth not totally closed. I am not that high collared high handed businessman in a suit or that high profile executive in a professional dinner. I like to forget the rest of the world when I am with close ones. I actually love to, not just like to. More often than not you’d hear the sound of a chicken bone crack than the tinkling of the cutlery on the glass plates. Not that I don’t remember the place and the location and the situation that I’ll make a complete fool out of myself with my informality. But whenever I can I never let go an opportunity.

I am informal. Can’t say I will be.

Standstill

One always comes to a standstill. There’s this moment in life when you will.

If you have always been involved in the rat race, then you might be braked down to a trifle at the fag end. Being a logical guy, you’d say, that’s the best thing to have happened. Being a practical guy, you’d say, you’ll have lived your life. Being just a guy, I’d say you’ve been running in the wrong direction.

If you let life pass you by, then maybe you’ll be feeling this every alternate moment. You will encounter a red light every second crossing. You will always pause to think. You will think to act. You will think to do. You will think to think. And then you will think, what actually did you think.

If you are among those who have visions and dreams and fantasies, you must have started walking with a chrysalis in mind, let it formulate into a caterpillar, and started running. But then, you lose the butterfly. You think it’s there around the corner, behind that hedge, across that river, hidden behind those trees. But anyway you go on, without a reason. Rather, you lose the reason. You go on, more so because everybody around you is going on. People tell you that “a winning horse doesn’t know why it runs, it runs because of pain. Life is a race, God is your rider. So if you are in pain, then think God wants you to win the race.” You run because you have to run.

And then all of you will stop someday. You have to. Maybe most of you will look at it as something you have to. But there’s a reason behind it. Life’s isn’t all about being ‘The Rat’ in the rat race. Life isn’t about being the cat either.

Something/someone always comes along at such dead ends. Be it a Coelho or an Ithaca or a Haley or a Hosseini, be it that cinemascope, be it a philosopher and guide you find in your friend, be it a spiritualist or a sage, be it that ever smiling ice-cream vendor passing you by every day, be it that drunk auto driver, be it your love who you never thought it could be.

‘cause standstill is when you actually stand still, when you actually pause to think, and then when you actually will do and act, when you actually go on into the desert holding the hand of the one you cherish the most.

Is it ?

Is it a pure anomaly that I still believe I can? Because I’ve seen people lose themselves when things don’t go their way. I’ve seen it with myself. I’ve seen it with countless souls.

Is it raw serendipity that I still believe I will? Because I’ve seen hungry minds wanting more and getting less. Because I’ve seen empty souls flatter themselves. Because I’ve seen good souls ending up with more than they could possibly get.

Is it verisimilitude? Or is it a fake impostor bringing himself out in me? Or is it ‘the me’?

Silent Moments

Some silent moments can bring to tranquil peace when you are amidst a hullabaloo of wasted shores. Such moments come once. Such moments are precious. One can live a lifetime in such a moment.

I want to

I just want to go to the riverside. Now. Its late in the night. The cops might raid. The addicts might have a potful. All I want is to go there.

I miss the groan at times, the groan of the machines, the stark rubble of the falling boulders. I miss the pent up screams and the worked up eyes and the suppressed beats. I want to miss them.

I want to just lie there. The silhouette of the distant ships in the dockyard with a few dark lights twinkling. The banks, totally dark and serene, potentially invisible. The stormy sky with the stars absent. The flash of a singular headlight in the stroke of the hour. The thrash of the water along the grassy beach. The gradual rise of the white circle with the ebb of time.

I want to lie down on the soft grass. Let the wet ground soak my backside. I want to stare. I want to forget. I want to wonder. I want to realize the futility of the effort to wonder. I want me to be absent. I want me to be wanted. I want to fall. I want to rise again. I want to be blank. I want to be clean. I want to go far away. I came alone. I will go alone. In the meantime, I want to live. I want to go the riverside.

It's been a long time since I last went through a whole night without sleeping even a wink.

I also realize I can't write anymore. Dunno, as someone puts it, if even this has a reason.

I can't

I can’t take it when you say it’s a waste.

I can’t take it when you say don’t.

I can’t see us parting on that note.

I can’t see when you leave in a huff.

I can’t leave without a troika.

I can’t go without a feather touch.

I can’t bear a loss of opportunities.

I can’t think of anyone but you.

I can’t live without you.

Something

There’s something about those strands falling over your eyes

There’s something about those deep dark eyes

There’s something about those luscious lips of yours.

There’s something about those dimpled cheeks

There’s too much I’ll miss now

There’s nothing more than you’d take me along with you

There’s you and me going over and over, again!

Rooftop Chronicles

I somehow absolutely hate “take care” messages, especially from ones who actually matter to me. I don’t know why. Maybe because it creates a distance or gives the apparent notion of distance.

Sitting on the rooftop, with a bunch of notes, the stark sun scorched me. Carelessly glancing through them, I had my mind elsewhere. As the sweat beads formed and dropped silently, I stared at the Latin and Greek sentences which would be the key to my exams tomorrow. I knew nothing.

The day had not been going right. Well to be honest, it had been going absolutely incredibly wrong since late last night. Arguments and rude words not withstanding I actually missed a parting “I love you”. You didn’t sleep early last night I presume/assume. I don’t know. I know I didn’t. In fact I only slept at 4 in the morning and woke up at 8.the morning went past. I couldn’t hear a voice, a sound of the voice I so long for. It made me all the more restless. I hoped against myself maybe I could yet. Instead a few texts, some rhetorically formal made its way. I, for once, thought I would wait. The wait isn’t over yet.

As the sun made its way across the horizon paving for a cool evening, I lied down on the dusty rooftop porch. A gentle breeze accelerated into a stronger one. I glanced through the notes, occasionally fiddling with the cell with eager wistful eyes. As the horizon darkened and a good many messages later, with the now pretty strong breeze literally hitting me, I nodded a vain sigh to myself. And I cried. Its been a good many days and months since I last cried. There is a subtle difference I find between breaking down and crying. You break down, and then try to maybe hide your tears. You break down, and then you find consolation. You break down, and calm down soon after. But this time I cried. I was alone. No one could watch me. No one could feel me. I cried. Maybe I howled. Maybe I wailed. When I realized, I could see lights sparkling in the distance. I never wiped the tears. The breeze carried them off.

It has been a horrible last 24 hours for me, probably one of the worst such periods in recent times. I haven’t yet listened to your voice. But yeah, now, I understand not listening to the melody kills me inside, yet I fear this doesn’t set a precedent for days to come. And yet maybe I needed this.

Writer's block

There have been things I would love to write.

There have been thoughts I would be better off scribbling.

I can't.

Unfamiliar pangs of writer's block.

Turning to stone is better than wearing stones around your neck.

Hard hitting shocks of reality.

Keeps me awake.

I fail to write.

Unfamiliar pangs of writer's block.

Pluck

I sat down trying to analyze what exactly went wrong. Initially it was the lack of dedication which rubbed me the wrong way. The depths made me understand I always had the dedication within me. The lack of motivation did me in. I can work hard. I can be very determined. I can achieve. But for all that I need a plethora of motivation.

I had been having a talk with D. She somehow makes me believe I am capable of much more. She somehow makes me think I can do things beyond the ordinary. I don’t know what spurs her to think this way but I believe in her.

D, I have lots to learn from you. Your hard work ethic, your dedication, your will. Somehow somewhere I have lost that down the tracks of age. I will rediscover all that. I will try to. All I need is you by my side. Always.

Nothing in the ordinary inspires me anymore. The common motivations fail for me. Maybe I get too idealistic at times, but I will try as much as I can to cling on to my principles.

I have the pluck to fight a losing battle. I can survive ordeal. I have the courage. I still lack the purpose. Once I get a whiff of that, I know who I can be.

I can make a difference.

You and hell

I try and stay awake only to find myself going into a haunted nightmare. I’m not sleeping. I can’t sleep. I won’t sleep. Everytime I go to bed the flashing image overtakes me, taking me into the depths of hell and beneath. I wake up everytime and find tears smudged. And then I find you.

New News

I keep pressing the red button on my cell, eagerly hoping to find the screen showing message(s) received or (a) missed call.

I have stopped smoking atleast for the next 15 days. I’m taking small steps at a time.

I wake up in the morning, check my cell, notice no new messages and go back to sleep. Alarm rings, I wake up again. If I don’t find a message I try going back to sleep unless the situation provokes me otherwise.

I have had a haircut.

My room has been littered with books and copies and notes and files for the past 3 days, since they have had to be shifted from the table, which I am presently using for completing the drawing sheets.

I have no work to do. The previous statement is an absolute misnomer right now.

A relationship isn't just about being there at the end of the day always. It's also sometimes, and maybe most-times, being there through the day too...

Bliss

The door was ajar. Even though it was dark around, the patch of moonlight lit up the floor. Away, a couple of shadows lengthened gradually. He had his arms around her. She had her head on his chest listening to his heartbeats. As they stared upwards into clear sky, with stars peeking at them and an airplane leaving its trail along and thoughts of shooting stars clouding them, he whispered sweet nothings. She merely replied,” I love you too.” And then it was quiet again.

Today

Today is a very important day. I realized a new facet of me. I've hardened myself. Beyond what i could have thought earlier. I have steeled myself. The wall is indeed very strong and durable. And there are doors and windows built too. You don't need to break in. You only need the correct key. It is enigmatic and builds mystique. I prefer it that way. And for the one who holds the key, welcome to a journey beyond your wildest dreams. You've earned it.

Reasons of Me

I failed to see the reason, if only it was to let go after a downtown journey.

I reasoned to myself to realize I possessed something others don’t.

I gave myself enough room to live it up.

I am destined for a destiny I write of my own.

It gives a power to do and explore what I have inside.

I am what I am ‘cause

To be able to surrender is a curse I find less appealing than a boon to give up what you own.

Ghost of me

Tears come streaming down

A shake of the head
More tears
Wiping of the cheek with the fold of the arm
Nostalgia
Not cut out to be
Adamance not to be admonished
Life moves on
So do we ...

Loveducation

You are gone.

I am left on probation.

You would stay awake.

I would lull you to sleep.

You would talk.

I would listen.

You would chatter.

I would patter.

You would sing.

I would compose.

You would dance.

I would match the steps.

You would run.

I would egg you on.

You would cross the road.

I would hold your shaking hands.

You would work.

I would wait.

You would laugh.

I would make it my only music.

You would cry.

I would take you in my arms.

You would make faces.

I would tease you.

You would shout.

I would be calm.

You would be silent.

I would scream.

You would love me.

I would love you.

And then, you were gone.

I looked around.

I found none.

I ran searching for your trails.

I encountered failures.

I was daunted.

But, I never gave up.

I had my obsession.

I had my dream.

But then you realize, dreams are just dreams after all.

The walls crashed.

And then came a time, when I stopped running after you.

I chased your shadows.

Black and Grey.

Never White.

Never Red, Ivory Blue.

I caught you many times.

But I could never hold on to you.

I ceased to follow.

I learnt to let go while holding on.

Snippets of a week

It’s been a funny start to the year.

It’s been only 8 days old, and I’ve gotten drunk 3 times already. And as usual, I haven’t gotten high. So I am now shifting gears to beer ensuring a beer belly. Anyways I am not spilling over.

I tried my hand at designing chemical equipments. Strange how easy it seems, and how the designs seem to fail with weird logics. And how we’ve had to progress without any help from a ‘concerned’ teacher who has ‘forgotten to design’ because he last did it 10 years back.

I restarted CAT classes. Seems like it’s time to buck up. I need to START, and I mean literally and figuratively.

I’ve managed to bathe in cold (icy) water through the dipping temperatures.

I’ve been able to finally write my own college classes schedule in the diary. When I was a fresher, friends did it for me, when I got promoted, the new freshers’ were the honoraries.

I’ve had yummy chocolate cake prepared by MD. She brought it to college to treat us.

I hear that tomorrow’s a highly probable holiday only to find it was a rumour. Jyoti Basu is still alive.

I now come to know I won’t be able to sleep till 10 in the morning till maybe next weekend, ‘coz even the coming Sunday has a family ceremony in place.

I post on back to back days!

Cold Stares

One of the infinite specks of dust

Arises,

Settles on the table.

I stare.

I keep staring.

Coldly.

Morbid translucence rears its head,

I dread.

A buzz quivers and stings.

I turn around,

Recover to rigidity.

I keep staring.

Coldly.

The clock strikes

I hear,

The chilly mist shakes me,

I shiver,

And yet I keep staring .

Coldly.

Darkness engulfs.

I tremble.

And I stare at it.

Longing to open…my eyes

When all I’ve been doing is…

Kept staring…

Coldly…

A New Dawn

The sun is rising

Twenty Ten awaits.

It’s time to start running again …