RainMan

My red side-bag didn't have an umbrella. To tell you the truth, even my red side-bag shouldn't have been there. It doesn't at all go with my pinstriped trousers and my formal shirt; even no more with the corporate sewage that I carry home, as my extra baggage, everyday. Looks more like a weathered artifact stolen away from its more carefree times.

So I went into the rain. Thinking, semi-consciously, what might be the consequences if I cannot make it to office due to a violent bout of sneezing, and a sore throat. It was a gentle rainy breeze now, with the occasional flashes of lightening, like Someone up there with a 80-200 tele lens, trying to capture the throngs of scampering people, in a single frame. Luckily, got hold of a cab(Omni), moments after I stepped out of the IT park(its also called a park, nomenclaturally equivalent to the one where little happy children gleefully chuckle when they smudge ice-cream on each others' faces). Plugged on the hands-free, and stuffed the ear-phones to shut out the world(Using the hands-free and incessantly listening to the radio while transit, is one rampant disease that WHO will fail to eradicate from the IT brethren). Windows were shut, probably since the girl opposite to me, blissfully crooning loudly whatever was being played on her radio station, feared the wind would mess up her hair, or spoil her mascara, or something.

I whacked the window-seat as a fellow passenger stepped out at Ruby. That's when I finally managed to slide open a window, carefully watching if no one gets irritated by my sacrilegious act. The first spray of the brewing Kaalboisaakhi fogged my Crizals with microscopic droplets of rain, through which the bright headlamps and street lights blurred out; and I looked to see a Wong Kar Wai-ish motion blur of colours, in the otherwise garish, familiar parts of the City.


...

Carefully maneuvering the Alur chop in the murir thonga in one hand, I lighted a GF(regular) and headed for home. The roads were still blurry with my rain-smeared compound vision, and the man-holes, opened up just before the elections, made it no easier to walk. The ciggy cinder was also having a tough time fighting the big droplets with full momentum, as it tried to douse the flame. Yet, it felt good. Like a surprise break from my regular, complacent sinusoidal world of Office-home-sleep-office. As I reached home, I could hear it. The storm brewing, both in and out. It took me a few moments to comprehend which would be more dangerous to bear. A fateful droplet won at last; as it extinguished the last attempts of the flame to burn it all. Spitting it out, I stepped in.

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-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

A close encounter with the Fairer Kind

There are things which cannot be expressed in words. These words give much pain, agony and contempt to the speaker when tried to be uttered. They are best expressed in lines. The words which are now being written could have never been told to you by me. Yet everyday from that special day I tried to convey them to you. These words haunt me day and night, at work and at rest, at the present and through the past and I know it will haunt me forever still. But, when so many of these piercing words, buzz and drone my mind, everlastingly, all of them seem to condense, congregate and mystifyingly form into three beautiful words which had destined a man’s future from times immemorial. From this broth of words, these three words seem to bloom out as a wreath of pearls, in utmost workmanship and perfection, those three words, those three eternal words, I Love You.

Just a nibble of the forbidden fruit;the first proposal that I had given in writing.

Ode to The Woman on the Judgment Day

A quiet monotonous journey,
As the eyes wander beyond the glassy doors,
Leaving the mind to its pointless, vast journey,
Of Luck, Life and Fates’ slippery toes.

Nothing to report,
Nothing unusual to see,
Nothing that hasn’t ever been thought before,
Nothing for the mind to flee.

Quiet and monotonous;
But behold
And then it happens,
The outburst of Activity,
The crazy, overpowering Emotions,
The fast, relentless and tensed Mind;

The Crave;
For coming a little too close,
For trying earnestly to throw out the words
That stuffs the throat; like a collapsed dam
Do try to gush out to please Desire.

For meeting of the four Eyes
In the unison of a brigade,
For trying to show off
A childish braggart look,
Trying to gain presence;
Looking at the watch, humming a tune
All the while as the eyes peep,
Through the mind’s facade.

And lastly;
For the overpowering wish to touch
To feel the worldly joys
The glory, the honour
To meet the zealous lust;
Just through the soft misty rub
Or even a light dash,
To feel the warmth of May
On skin as soft as a snowy crust.


The Thoughts;
Why, Why, Why the Frantic asks
Why is it so absurd?
Why does it seem so Alien now,
Knowing that it is The one?
Why to deceive the true borne feelings?
Why to let them perish in the bed?
Why to murder these mellifluous notes
With material thoughts, all numb and hard?
Why if Fortune gives me the catch
Miss it should I Must?

And…the Decision;
Hearing all, Conscience, calm and cool
As the placid and tranquil sea,
With eyes as watery as could be,
Replies; Through the pain and shattered wreck
Of the vestige that had once borne Me;
‘The child who wants to grab the moon
Seeing the bright colour into the night,
Try as it might, cannot get hold
Seems so sad, confused with fright;
Then, the wise mother replies,
It has its Heavenly place;
The joy in it, is the Trial to achieve
To pluck it from it’s enthroned peak,
That makes it fine, wondrous and bright;

“As the true Beauty yields
From the place where it reigns”’.

Written when I was first smitten in class 11;people whould have called her a PYT; but to me she was always the Woman