On the edge of happiness...

‘Riding in silence’…ever felt it? Those moments when you just drive (or ride is it? This term never fails to confuse me)…those moments when you actually feel that you can drive away all your pain…the soft music and an open road…an unknown (or perhaps known) destination…rain kissing the road…you wishing the rain to kiss you… Those moments when you actually ‘live’ your life…those moments when you actually feel alive! Rain walks and rain drives have always been my favorite. Something I relate to…something that touches the core of my existence. Don’t know how, don’t know since when…but since the time I remember knowing me, rain has been there. What drives you? You must have heard this question many times. Ever heard anyone answering “Drive drives me…”? Trust me, it does…just try the rain and drive combination! Look at the raindrops fall on your wind shield….put your face outside the window and feel the raindrops piercing your face…you would know what life means. You woul

The title sounds like homicide…does it? Even if it doesn’t, you must agree to me that it does! Because that’s what came to my mind! Ok…first things first! Am too busy today! Have a flight to catch in the evening, so need to bunk office (I don’t actually have to ‘bunk’, but I like the thought of ‘bunking’ office…so….) But couldn’t resist this post! I was planning to be at office early today. The key word here is ‘planning’. As usual, last night I ended up chatting late (this has been an addiction, since there are some people online at wee hours I like talking to)…and when my Photon ditched me, went back to texting… followed by calls…then story book…then random thoughts…ended up sleeping at 3 in the morning. Was sad thinking that for the next one week won’t be able to text in the middle of the night, won’t be able to post dawn-ish updates on Facebook. For the next one week, my only savior would be work…I will work late nights…and am happy for that! Still managed to wake up early tod

“It seems I started this poem So many years ago I cannot follow its ending And must begin anew” Of late, Vikram Seth has been the love of my life. Nothing new in it though…fell for his writings while I was in college, thanks to a friend of mine. I remember the first book of his I read – An Equal Music. Followed by don’t remember what. All I remember is we used to read anything and everything that we managed to get our hands on! Everything but what was there in syllabus. And talks ranged from Machiavelli to Lolita, from Freud to Jung. And now, suddenly, am again hooked to Seth. For no particular reason though! Just missing the friend who introduced me to him! And the weird part is: I choose to miss. Strange, is it? I bet it is! My mind is! Can never figure out what goes on inside. As Floyd would have said: “There is someone in my head and it’s not me” But I do realize, the poem that begun years ago have been modified and re-modified and re-re-modified so many times that I can’t fo

Come Monday…and I am in this peculiar mood. No idea why, no idea since when. Added to this is a sudden comment from an old classmate: “Why have you become so pessimistic of late?” which made me wonder: Have I? Coming back to my randomness, just realized 57 days left for Pujas . And am not that excited! Though people back home are, with my mom reminding me at regular intervals hoping that I would be at home during the festival. Nothing wrong with that, I mean wanting that their only daughter will be at home. And all I could do was tell her, “Will try Maa”, followed by dad muttering under his breath: “She can come back and look for jobs here naa!! As if people don’t work here!” to which my answer is always the same: “I don’t want to! I need to do what I want…please”. That reminds me, one of my colleagues was shocked to know I am a Bengali. She couldn’t bring herself to believe that I am a Bong. I look like everything but a Bong! And I smiled…kinda used to it. Even I am used to not

Again…no idea why I am putting it here…but just wanted to put it somewhere. Wait! Perhaps I know the reason! Will be back home for a short vacation (though it will be more hectic than my usual working days) in a week…now realizing should perhaps cancel this and go for Pujas, but it’s too late to cancel now! Not that I can’t, but don’t want to spoil the excitement of my family…they have meticulously planned my 208 hours stay in the city (and I let them did that…ignoring all my promises to friends)…and am sure they will try to squeeze in as many relatives and special delicacies as they can in between. Coming back to Puja…haven’t been to Kolkata during Durga Puja for four years now…and I know it’s difficult to plan for another trip in less than two months (mid October that is). Though late night planning is on, with me planning if not anything, will be there just for 3 days! But again, I know 3 days mean nothing…can’t even meet my friends…my family would want me home, my uncles and aunt

Tumi-o ki lukiye chuNyecho hath? kobita-e uriye esecho kuchi-kuchi raat? tobe kopale bhaNj keno? tomaro ki priyo mukh chole gechey neel uthoner khoje? bichana baalish'e morshumi chithi onyo kauke khoNje? They say poetry is contagious (don’t ask me who said so!). And believe me, no matter how hard you try, you can never translate emotions. I tried…and I failed…miserably! And (or will it be but?) I keep trying…only to fail again and again. Another try…maybe just to reconfirm my failure. But trust me; it’s worth giving a try. Did you (too) hold someone’s hand secretly? Have (you) blown away scattered and torn nights in poetry? Then why the frown? Have your darling face left in search of a blue courtyard? Does the seasonal letters scattered on (your) bed search for a new face? A point to note: I prefer to keep the name of the poet anonymous. Not because s/he runs away from limelight, but because for some emotions…the name of the person who puts it to word is immaterial.

just randoms...can't justify their being here...except that a part of me speaks through these lines!  "sab kichhu bhule raat jege ami nijeke niyei kheli; suicide note likhte giyeo kobitai likhe pheli." "sete die jao sab akkhep, jantrona, here jaoa, sete die jao mon gara sab mitthe, vandami; setona tumi shapnotake aposh karar fake, sete die jao avimaangulo; deoal holam ami. " 

Let me be honest...was not planning to post this in the first place. But since this is my blog and I have (read I demand) the freedom to write crappy things here (since the readership is very less, and I prefer it being less), thought would as well write this. The thought comes from my mom's daily calls...get married! What the hell...I mean to look at things; everybody has different set of ideals. My parents’ idea can never match mine...to give you a simple example; my family wants me to get married to a serious grumpy-faced teetotaler who would think thousand times before giving in to something that would make him smile . And I, for sure, know if not for love, I would better end up in being a jail rather than such matrimony. My mom keeps asking me, tell us what kinda guy you want as your partner. And I keep saying her, someone who is equally bad and mad as me. And suddenly, I know the exact words to define someone who would be ideal for me (mind you, am NOT talking of boy fr

North Calcutta…an old two-story building… Red brick walls against the grey sky stands with their head held high French windows…mahogany wood old shiny furniture… Just as you see it in Satyajit Ray’s movies… Saturday morning… The vernacular newspaper lying on the bed… Read… He… Sitting on his (or his grandfather’s) study table, busy working on his laptop… Switching between his laptop and phone calls…handling clients… She… Just out of shower…a saree worn in typical Bengalee style Goes out to the balcony… Enters the room… Under her breath: “Can’t even arrange the paper properly…huh! Let me see this one more day and I will ask the newspaper-wala to stop giving papers” He: “Promise…this is the last time. Can you please get me a cup of tea?” She: “God!! This is the fifth cup you are having since morning!” He: “Please…I need it baby” She: “Grr…don’t call me baby! Am not a kid!!” He: “Yes…you are…baby” Exit followed by another entry A cup in hand…puts it in the table She: “Last cup…go out an

Was getting bored…all the while Facebooking (for the uninitiated, that’s a VERB you won’t find in Wren n Martin) and working from home...was missing my office, my colleagues, my hot steaming cup of tea…etc. etc. In short, missing loads of things that I tend to overlook daily… So…with nothing better to do (since my viral mind is working overtime now), thought might as well do some blogging! Virals… That reminds me…last time I had virals…I guess two-years back! It was fun…the temp was going steady at 104, my roomy was tensed thinking I might as well die…and I was happy to be in that state. I mean seriously I was happy…to be in a state where nothing else matters, no one else matters…a levitating feeling (if I may dare call it so). And when the temp came down after a day (thanks to my roomy)…I started missing my mom! That was irritating! I mean having been out of home for pretty long and still missing mom was kiddish! Remember as a kid I used to wish… “God…please make me fall sic