Attacks on the mind, the country and the soul,
Recession cutting us out of our inevitable goals,
The journey is far, long and hard
And still we find ourselves struggling from the start.

I seem to wither, I seem to cower,
I try to see the burning beacon on top of the tower,
I seem to drench, yet I feel the fire inside
I burst out in flames, in a cold November shower.

The song of of the robin, is heard no more,
Its the Swan that sings of better days of yore,
Bloody hands, yet more on the streets
Little pink papers as New Year's treats.

I ponder along, when all of it would end
And struggle I do,till my wits' end.
...

A flash of serene white; and I hear a voice,
From behind a green apple tree,
Give peace a chance, and leave the rest to Me.

(The words didn't find meaning until they came out, better rhyme and reason could have been achieved; then again, so could everything else in the world...Happy New Year)

The only thing constant is Change - IV

The best thing about my life, today, is that I don’t have to pretend who I am. It’s real, and fortunately for me, there’s no pretence about how I am living it. Today it doesn’t have that satiny, adulterated veneer to cover up the shady parts which I am not really proud of. Its sad, its happy, its fun, its boring, its melancholic, its ecstatic, it has its momentary numbness of defeat, it also has its enlightenment of realizing that sometimes you have to take your defeat with honour. I had read in my school diary quotes long back – The strongest man is he, who fights alone. And I fight, to keep my life real, free from social brunt, which often leaves its scars from its bloody aftermath of the constant proving yourself above your own laid benchmarks.

When you are real, and you don’t have to pretend that you are somebody else, just because the world needs you to be, you can be much at ease with yourself. You can laugh at our own stupid jokes, be ashamed of your folly, and get annoyed and angry when life doesn’t give you its right deserves, and pamper yourself to a honey-dew smooth B&H when the day goes well. And never feel guilty about doing all that, thinking of how your image can affect because of all these randoming. ‘Coz, in the first place, you have let go of that image, forever.

Life changes, or does it? Just a few weeks back I was happy going to SPE, looking at the throng, an obscenely priced KF pint in one hand, and perhaps, a shared smoke in the other; with my constant partner in our newly-found addiction to the Kolkata night-life; staring at the other, more regular “business-bringing” revellers and their skimpily clad “rock chicks” (for the uninitiated, these are the pretty young things that flank the ultra rich, ultra smooth, ultra suave party men, showing off their ultra-deep necklines) who were trying very hard to bring home the fact that SPE is their second home; its music being the sole food for their souls. And yesterday, at another night joint, a girl, who I had probably given a few cursory glances, came right up to me to the comfy divan where I was sitting with my Vodka n Sprite, and asked me my name ‘coz I looked familiar. Hmm, I was no way familiar to the night-prowlers in Kolkata, and recently my photo never came up in the papers, neither was I some Ashton Kutcher/Brad Pitt look-alike. Without going into the finer, saucier details, all she wanted to do was make a laughing stock out of a sheepish guy with the nerdy glasses, in front of her groupies. Well, I dint give her that chance and she looked royally pissed off. My partner-in-crime and I had a hearty laugh over it later that night… I think I’ll go back to trying to look in cool at SPE with my blue rubber slippers; although I really wouldn’t mind more such encounters with unfamiliar hot women at night-clubs, once in a while. Heck, nothing changes actually; I am sure I would never be able to imbibe the supernatural powers of Suave Serenading from our local bearded god of womanizing, with his trusty back-pack and firang followers, even if he chooses me for being his lucky protégée :)


The only thing constant is Change I, II and III.

Five feet Six

The other day I chanced upon hearing a very old favourite of mine – Words by Ronan Keating, as a ringtone in a female colleague’s phone. Regardless to say, I had quite grown out of Ronan, Backstreet and their boy-band brotherhood a long time back. It is the age of rap, house, alter, metal, progressive and punk rock and I am neck deep into it. But something lingered on just as she took the call. Its only words, and words that all I have to take your heart away. It suddenly struck a chord somewhere. Really, what about the people only with a few lovelorn words to say, fragmented and out of sync mostly, not at all with the great suaveness and panache as in the latest James Bond flick? What about those who don’t have a guitar slung to their shoulders with a day old stubble, who cannot croon to the starry eyed women at SPE, with a Calrsberg in one hand, and the beau’s fingers in the other? What about them who cannot play a piano, high on weed all night long, while charming a friend sleeping over at his place, with a wanton desire of something a little more exciting than sleep? What about those men, who are just plain ordinary and simple, having no other extra talents to flaunt than the regular, decaf guy next door? What about those guys are plain available, and just hopelessly in love, and just cannot go without not giving the regular call everyday to his sweetheart, with the simple pretence of discussing some out-of-the way topic, just to beat around the bush, before blurting out one simple, silly compliment, or a silent, hushed “It would be great if you were here” or “I missed you yesterday while watching Harry and Sally”? Are they not eligible for love, for care, for momentary lapses of reason, for small trinkets of soft touch, or at least, for a goodnight SMS?

Intangible as love is, I seem to have finally discovered the yardstick (maybe even quite late!). It’s called difference, how unique you can be from the plain, unremarkable, unattractive, untalented version of Boy 101. Its all about your guitar pick, your joints and how you crush the weed, how many more pegs you can soak up and yet be deft enough to satisfy the moments of lust that she needs from you, its about the goatee, the piece of metal sticking out of your right eyebrow, the smooth jives at the dance floor and the suave nonchalance of midnight serenades, the moments of envy rising out of the time partitioned for other women and on a rarer scenario, the self-help-book-mugged philosophical rantings. And of course, the perennial six pack abs and day-old stubble would give you the necessary brownie points if you miss out on some of the points above. That’s how you take your love to greater heights; maybe even a six feet two.

…

That’s where I start. At five feet six.

Best Out-of-Office automatic email replies

Just had to post this:

1.I am currently out of the office at a job interview and will reply to you if I fail to get the position. Please be prepared for my mood.

2. You are receiving this automatic notification because I am out of the office. If I was in, chances are you wouldn’t have received anything at all.

3. Sorry to have missed you, but I’m at the doctor’s having my brain and heart removed so I can be promoted to our management team.

4. I will be unable to delete all the emails you send me until I return from vacation. Please be patient, and your mail will be deleted in the order it was received.

5. Thank you for your email. Your credit card has been charged $5.99 for the first 10 words and $1.99 for each additional word in your message.

6. The email server is unable to verify your server connection. Your message has not been delivered. Please restart your computer and try sending again.

7. Thank you for your message, which has been added to a queuing system. You are currently in 352nd place, and can expect to receive a reply in approximately 19 weeks.

8. Hi, I’m thinking about what you’ve just sent me. Please wait by your PC for my response.

9. I’ve run away to join a different circus.

Finally this one takes the cake: :)

10. I will be out of the office for the next two weeks for medical reasons. When I return, please refer to me as ‘Lucille’ instead of Dave.

Words of The Prophet

The girl next window

There is a Khirki chaat shop beside my house. Khirki, loosely translated it means window in English. And today is a 24 hour CITU bandh. Loosely translated, that means no office, and nothing to do the entire day, apart from sleeping and staring blankly at the idiot box. Not complaining, just plain bored.

Lots of people out today. Chevys, Mercs, Karizmas, Toyotas and maybe a glimpse of a few BMWs; females in strikingly "bold and beautiful"(not too sure about the beautiful part tho', but couldn't resist the pun!) clothes, men with a fat hip-pockets looking like they have a tumor growing out of their butts; ice-cream wallas, balloon-wallas, chana-wallas looking earnestly at the all-wallas to shell out a couple of hundred bucks for their stuff. Kids crying their hearts out for the oh-so-indispensable bhel without which their adolescent lives may remain incomplete; wannabe biker dudes, with their silencer-removed bikes zooming towards the gang of PYTs not there only for the mirch in their chaats; aunties shouting at there nephews/nieces for not going too near the fearless stuntmen,while secretly trying to avoid gazing at the charmingly bald uncle from next door. The crossroads eternally jammed with the madding crowd, and the this/that-wallas flitting from car to car, trying to put extra butter where required. Looks like Kumbhamela scaled down for the metro. The funniest part: I saw a horse-drawn fittan only seen in front of Victoria at the early dusks; maybe it's also a joyride out here.
...
Yet the door doesn't open. A door long kept locked eternally, after some rowdy, para goons, maybe after a joyous, spontaneously rippling day like this, wanted to culminate their intensely spirited evening, by looting away the last shade of fading pride, from the washer-woman staying beside the Khirki shop, in a state of drunken stupor after a gala evening. No colours, no noise, no wallas there.

The door remains bandh.Forever.

Here without you

I guess I'll just wait. Wait n watch. And stop cribbing about the past, as for that matter, even the present and the future.
I hope you'll just be there for me. Seeing me through.

The only thing constant is Change - II

Its a different feeling, letting go of all your inhibitions. Its silly; you feel so out of place and foolish once you've done it, you feel like kicking yourself in the a*se, you feel like you have been exposed, robbed of all your private emotions and scattered them all around for everyone to see, feel, touch and comment on. You feel like a kid who has wet his bed, and couldn't hide it from his parents in the morning. Yet again, you have to do it sometimes. Because you want to feel robbed. Because you had to feel exposed. Its like a primeval sadomasochistic instinct to feel raped and looted of all your deepest desires, lurking in the forbidden corners of your mind.
Its even tougher when you know that you're mature enough not to do it, and you cannot justify that action by simply blaming it as a childish whim and naivety. You injure your confidence, your ego, your self-belief, your logic and your I-am-fine-Thank-you life. Maybe all things really cannot be put into that equation of life, where the R.H.S is a definite integral of fame, fortune and money over time. I feel lost and confused.
I guess I can see a light at the end of this tunnel. I can see the see the shadowy walls with green lichens pass by me in motion blur. I hope I can reach that light, eventually. Till then, it seems I will just have to read into the twisting shapes of the lichens.
They will tell the story of my life, one day.

The Reason

Is there really a reason? Do I really need one? What if the real reason is that its unreasonable enough to go about in the dark, trying to grope into the cluttered walls with old paintings and sepia-toned frames,with the spiders just waiting for its prey to land; and amidst the clutter, your torch suddenly flashes past by the tin soldier that you lost when you were a kid, and frantically searched for it till the last teardrop left its trail of saltdust over your cheeks? The reason is not what I care for, its the uncanny state of not finding one which enchants me.

A cake with butter-paper sticking to its side.Thats reason enough for me.

Purno das Baul

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The only thing constant is Change-I

Maybe I just liked the way it was. School, mad rush to the tutions, screaming for food before I could actually pull out my socks, the stealthy looks searching out for some known faces while buying the much needed fag during the after-tutions at GDs' or Amartyas'; Even for that matter, college...
...waking up,classes,or bunking most of them,evening escapades to the riverside or Huts or Sashmoler dokan for the regular cha,ciggys,bhaja maggi,dim toast,Projapoti,and other delectables never to be heard of in a Barrista or CCD,drunken stupor on Bangla(70%) or Old Monk,crushing dope while porn being played on mute on one side of the room,and wannabe guitarists strumming Mala or Hotel California on the other,dozing off in beds which could be easily be adorned in a penitentiary,waking up...routine life.

All at once it came shattering down.Unfinished

Best Original Song for "Falling Slowly" from the film "Once" - the 80th Annual Academy Awards

Lyrics | Falling Slowly lyrics

I've Learned

I've learned
that no matter what happens,
or how bad it seems
today, life does go on, and it will be better
tomorrow.

I've learned that you can tell a lot about
a person by the way he/she handles these
three things:
a rainy day, lost luggage, and
tangled Christmas tree lights.

I've learned that regardless of your
relationship with your parents,
you'll miss them when they're gone from
your life.

I've learned that making a "living" is not
the same thing as making
a "life."

I've learned that life sometimes gives you
a second chance.

I've learned that you shouldn't go through
life with a catcher's mitt on both hands.

You need to be able to throw something back.

I've learned that if you pursue happiness,
it will elude you. But if you focus on your
family, your friends, the needs of others, your
work and doing the very best you can,
happiness will find you.

I've learned that whenever I decide
something with an open heart,
I usually make the right decision.

I've learned that even when I have pains, I
don't have to be one.

I've learned that every day you should
reach out and touch someone. People
love that human touch - holding hands,
a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back.

I've learned that I still have a lot to
learn.

I've learned that people will forget what
you said, people will forget what you did,
but people will never forget how you made
them feel.

~Anonymous

Renegade

Simple, the good life ain't so good after all...
Someday,somewhere.....it might get into the quiet plaintive addiction of searching endlessly for it...
And it may never appear.

Two gold coins in a dusty old bag

Dust and loneliness,
Brickbats and careless mistakes on notepads,
Same gellato,with separate souls
Two gold coins in a dusty old bag,
But is there anything in it for me?

Yellow lights glaring over the screen,
Jumbled alphabets on plastic keys,
Voices trailing over the hectic blur
Two gold coins in a dusty old bag,
Could you please find something there for me?

Florescent neons glaring, over metal paints,
Glutton eyes staring, at the "Devil's Own" plunge,
"Caesar" throbbing at the princely shadows
Two gold coins in a dusty old bag,
"Hey you", throw some light, who knows, maybe there is something in for me ?

Chaos and the gloom,
Shrieks in the midnight,jump cuts to the inevitable doom,
Cheque and cash,bills and other pieces of worldly trash
Two gold coins in a dusty old bag,
Gold coins! Can I have one for me?

Lonely paces towards the unkempt bed,
Issues and concerns, uncharted ways to tread,
The pillow by the side, the only one to share your night
Two gold coins in a dusty old bag...

Your finger sticks out, through the hole as you grope in!


The coins were lost for ages,maybe for better...or for worse!

Truths unfolding...

The judgment day,again.The day of realization has come again.The day has come again to sort the flowery chaff,the polished varnish of the dire truths.After much contemplation I have decided to stop thinking about you and dream my extravagant dreams. After the fete, I’ve finally realized that our relationship is going nowhere. The word ‘relationship’ is itself a misnomer;we had never anything between us. Yes,I would never deny that I loved you once, I had craved for you once,I had tried to possess you once against all hopes,all logic,all judgment and against my physical and mental betterment, and I had once even firmly and most soundly believed that nothing can part us in the long run,but that ‘once’ is not now. Things have changed,times have changed,conditions have changed and with them I’ve have changed too,as the rule of life is to change from one phase to another. There are other factors too. Firstly,I am tired of this one sided,frustrating,dejecting,painful,illusionary dreams,and I find no point in ruining myself in an impossible dream,a wild goose chase. Secondly,my peer pressure is now in its zenith,and my father has nearly gone crazy apprehending about my future. He is now mercilessly torturing me to give up all I love;food,music(without which I truly cannot exist),friends, ‘adda’;and to eternally pursue my academics like a mechanical zombie. I’ve tried to make him realize that I cannot do without a little excitement in my life, and I’m not that kind of a study-geek I used to be,but all in vain. I just cannot manage so much pressure in my life,neither I think can any 18 year old can manage. And finally, I’m not the type of person for you,either as a friend,since I could never be your friend,neither fill its position as a friend should. There are certain clauses for a friendship to develop. Friends can tell each other everything without any hesitation they can argue,fight and then make up on a subject. They can be good to you without reason and can also be rude to you at times. They can share each others innermost secrets,and can complain to you on anything. Such are good friends. And neither you nor me can fulfill these terms. And like love friendship is also mutual;if one cannot fulfill its needs,it cannot work out. I could never be your friend, ever give you any advice or help,since when talking with you a very different part of me plays in my mind,which only wants to talk and hear uselessly to you. Nor can any kind of relationship between us. We are poles apart,both in attitude and personality. I’m cool-headed(though the quality is nulled whenever I speak to you!), I’m an analytic,I give every piece of work that I do a logical justification and reasoning,I think twice before I undertake any decision,I’m methodical,humble and I treat my fellows as beings whose every words and actions should be respected, even if it might sound absurd to my reasoning. I freely discuss my problems in my circle, and I’m never ashamed to admit when I’m wrong,neither am I ashamed to point out others mistakes. I like to leave some aspects of my life to chance, and I accept that what comes to me as something good and helpful. And yes, I can provide effective solutions to problems and can can comfort people when I want to. I don’t really know how many true friends I have,and how many like me or despise me,but this is what I really am. I never tell these sort of things to everybody cause I hate to publicize. And I believe that each person in this world possess some quality or the other which the people around him doesn't, and that possession should make him proud and un-inferior even in the company of the elites. But I wouldn't mention your faults and failings,you already know what they are. And if you feel that you are too good and superior to have any faults,its high time to start finding them out. I can give you a starting push. You are proud,arrogant,obstinate and impulsive,you cannot see beyond a person’s superficial image,and you think that the loss of D_ in your life is the biggest loss possible,and you yourself try not to grow out of it. You are immature and cannot make out the goods from the bads. You are whimsical and temperamental and do not know where to stop or limit yourself. Independence is necessary,but without that fine line of difference between independence and stupidity, you would get lost forever. Here I could point to some of my own cons,but I know all of them so why bother? But before saying sionara, there are three things I always wanted you to know. Firstly ,you had once asked me what do I find in you. I don’t remember what I mumbled casually, but the fact that you were so contrary to me made you appealing. You are so not me, so different from my true self was what I loved,craved for and desired. Maybe that’s why they say controversy makes a pair. Secondly there is no other woman in my life because of whom I am drifting away from you. There were never any other women by far, but someday I earnestly wish that there would be some one who can show me,want me and crave for me just as I had once wanted a girl. And for the grand finale, you were the first person I had ever loved, the first to excruciate such tumultuous emotions and the one who had reincarnated my life. I would always remember you and love you even that we are taking our own separate ways. I came to know that you never look back upon a person that you once forsake, all I want to tell that even I have got the same trait. Well I was a beginner, but my luck didnt favour for me.
Adios.

Catharsis I hate;logical justification I have...

Say hello to Rita...

My life is slowly taking a turn. I now feel the need of a true friend,a girlfriend,to whom I can confide my innermost secrets which torment me to be answered. I say a girlfriend,’cause I have got enough boys who will listen to me, and provide me,or at least try to provide me,with necessary answers. But the trouble is I will get them from a guy’s point of view,a viewpoint through which Adams have tried through eons to gain that special someone,but had failed in more cases than not. The subtleties,the mysteries,the craves,desires and wants of the feminine mind can only be gathered from a girl,as I believe that there is one deep,hidden,unaccesible area in the souls of both the sexes,which makes all men,or all women, however different they may be,very much alike. And it’s the touch in that area, if one can ever discover it,which will make them shed all the garments of their personas to reveal the real spirit of the being,that he or she is.
I am slowly beginning to feel that I have found that one woman who can be my true girlfriend,with whom I can share my emotions. She is having the same problem as me;she is also very much distressed with her own life,which had taken a turn for the worse since a couple of years. Being quite beautiful, she has to cope with the pressure of her frustrated wooers,who are taking a toll on her mental,spiriual and academic betterment and leaving her in a frenzy of helplessness and distress. Her own lover,quite a close friend of mine,had broken up their relationship, without any justification,which now makes both of them repentent and lamented. And now she wants to get away from all this racket,and enjoy life just as an eighteen year old should. Say hello to Rita.

Guess who rita is...written sometime in Sunday, September 19, 2004, 2:54:12 PM

Silence is a great healer

Oft the stilly night,
Ere slumber chain has bound me,
Sad Memory brings the Light,
Of Other days around me.
The joy, the tears of boyhood years,
The words of love then spoken,
The eyes that shone,
Now dimmed and gone
The cheerful hearts now broken;
I seem like one; who treads alone
In some banquet hall deserted;
Whose light are fled; whose garlands dead
And all but he departed.

-“The Light of Other Days”-Thomas Hardy

Laughter is the best medicine, but is Silence the greatest healer? When everything comes to an end, when a mysterious loom spreads over the entire momentum of your life, when “the lights are fled” and “the garlands dead”, are you all alone; only Silence giving you company till the grand finale of your life’s sojourn? Life’s atrocities, coupled by your fair share of brickbats and defeats, the ever ensuing urge to keep up to your dreams of success, and all its confusions, does make you numb and ‘silent’ sometimes. The underlying question is, does it heal? Does it make life any better, any less than that it already is? Silence, undoubtedly, is the greatest cure when confronting people with illogical ideas, irrational ways of behaviour and ever burning rage against all the malfunctioning systems of life. Silence, calm and composed, is the undisputed medicine in all such raving diseases.
The healing powers of Silence are challenged in a gamut of different situations. Is it silence that a rape victim will resort to, when uncouthly robbed of her life’s dignity and joy, and wait for it to ‘heal’? Is it the same silence that an underprivileged boy will maintain, when his more affluent and powerful competitors rob him of a chance of employment, by their own power-play? Silence is the potion of a spurned lover who can move out with dignity; it’s surely not an option in the afore-said scenarios. “Laugh and the world laughs with you, cry and you cry alone”. Let me embellish this well known phrase by adding, “Be silent and you are silent alone”. There are times to stay silent and there are other times to speak out, to challenge and rebel against injustice. If the soldiers were in a state of mournful shock, the Sepoy Mutiny would have never happened, hadn’t they rebelled against their religious beliefs.
Raising they decibel is not a solution, but raising it with proper content, proper ambition and a proper goal to achieve, is. Let silence heal, but let it also heal our wounded pride and our lost glories so that we can stand out as winners in the rat-race of our lives.

Creative writing competion at office;did'nt win anything :(