...moving ahead

Of the hundreds of relationships you participate in throughout the course of your roller coaster life — associations of all kind: good/bad, joyful/sad, casual/serious, friendly/hostile, short/long, romantic/heartbreaking and everything in between, there’s always ONE relationship that harrows you like an old wound that refuses to heal. It haunts your mind, frequents your thoughts — maybe because you let it, maybe because you’re reluctant to fight a losing battle when your emotions are swinging like saloon doors on rusty hinges. You live, you breathe, you dream, you repeat — but such austere malady won’t go away and your heart and resolve commit to a constant tug of war, each pulling on one end of your instincts. So you might as well diagnose yourself a royal schizophrenic! Wrestling with your emotions over the dream of someone who still claims so much of your sentiment but is no longer there… well isn’t that lovely.
And so you sit and think.

But you CAN’T think about things like this so you distract yourself!

And it actually works.

Wow, I feel better already.

Goodbye now to the breakdown between thought, emotion and behavior. Farewell to faulty perception and inapt actions and feelings. Goodbye to withdrawal from reality and personal relationships into fantasy and delusion. Good riddance to an overwhelming sense of mental fragmentation!

Life is way too short to worry about the past, and I for one, don’t have time for anxiety.

If you need me, I’ll be in my comfy sweatshirt with a camera staring at the world around me.

maa asche...

It is that time of the year again. The period which I look forward to the entire year. Durga Puja is coming.Its only a matter of days now, as entire Calcutta (i like it that way) gears up to welcome Maa and is lit up in glorious lights, I sit here far, far away from the hub of that one festival I geared up for at least a month ago when I was growing up. Now I am chasing memories, sometimes falling head over heels, getting up again, swallowing that lump in my throat, which I’d like to think of as nostalgia.I can't wait to get back home.

Nostalgia, memories, food and Durga Puja festivities are inseparable.I am thinking on the lines of waking up one crisp, sunny Autumn morning to the intoxicating fragrance of 'Shiuli phool', or rolling in bed to the mellifluous chants of Mahalaya. Wearing a new dress to the 'Pujobari', pandal-hopping like there is no tomorrow, and not even complaining about the shoe bite from which your feet are painfully aching now, and mind you shoe-bite is a serious problem during Durga Puja.

The days leading upto the pujas are usually the most exciting,with plenty of shopping,addaz and so many other fun stuffs.The silvery stalks of slender ‘Kashful’ swaying to the changing winds, the air would be heavy with the ‘pujo pujo gondho'. A willowy breeze would tingle the senses towards evening and a thin blanket would inadvertently need to be curled around our sleeping selves towards morn – the beauty of autumn, the ushering in of winter.

I remember, as the weather readied itself for the Pujo, so did we. Hopping through each others places, we would marvel at the ‘Pujo collections’ from Mamas,Mashis,Pishis and Kakus. More than us, it would be a routine affair for family ladies to be at each other places, apparently to exchange pleasantries, but more so to make sure that nothing in-fashion had managed to elude their entourage! "Pujor Bajar sesh?" would be the ubiquitous question to almost everyone we crossed paths with.

kashful

So,as all those memories come flashing back to me, as I am writing this,I realize that I had planned to put in so many things, but just as the Puja, as with life, nothing goes as planned, and frankly who cares,as long as we have a good time. Pujos are moments of shared joy: of precious memories of walking into a pandal with my parents to see what seemed enormous murtis at age five, fretting over new dresses over the teenage years, hanging out with friends as we grow up and share the joy of seeing Ma Durga in all her splendor all over again.

Maa is coming home..So,am I..:)

..and i am thinking

As I sit down to write this blog, a lot is going on my mind, but that's all random stuff and I can't think, rather can't focus on something in particular that I want to write about.So, a good friend of mine came up with a simple idea to write about 'thinking' itself. Our success in life is due in large part to our ability to think. We are able to use our large, powerful brains for more than just playing back previously recorded programs. We are able to ponder, to synthesize, to question, to analyze, to consider, to speculate, to investigate, to think.

In a world that is increasingly powered by information, thinking skills become more and more important. The world is getting more complex by the minute. Instinctive reactions no longer give us enough skills to survive. We must learn to develop complex thinking skills in order to prosper.

Normally, we don’t ever think about thinking. We just kind of do it as needed. Of course we all go to school as children, where we are hopefully taught how to think, and where we receive some practice in thinking. Yet aside from philosophy courses, we don’t receive very much instruction in thinking. Most of our thinking skills are developed out of the necessity to accomplish some other task, whether it be academic or pragmatic.

The power of thought is something we generally take for granted. After all, thinking requires no physical effort so it doesn’t seem to be that big of a deal. Thinking is an extremely big deal, though. It is a fundamental, essential and powerful ability which can form the basis for literally any achievement you can imagine.Everything you’ve ever accomplished has been accomplished first in your thoughts. And each thing you accomplish in the future will begin with a thought.

Thinking is a lifelong pursuit, and it is important to continually develop and refine thinking skills. Thinking affects every area of life. It can make the difference between success and failure in your career. It can make the difference between good health and sickness. It can make a major difference in your relationships, and in your very enjoyment of life.

So let us all take a moment and put your thinking cap on to ponder upon our life and its happenings, because our thoughts define us and really have a huge influence in our life. Till next time, happy living folks..:)

a midsummer night's dream

I’ll bet a sleepy girl somewhere in the world closed her eyes last night and suddenly found herself twirling.

Twirling hand-in-hand, ballroom dancing with the love of her life. Instead of the worn out nightdress and sweatpants she’d put on before bed, she gasped to find herself draped in the most elegant, exquisite evening gown she’d ever laid her eyes upon. With a humble inward smile, she secretly felt like the most beautiful girl in the room… and believe me, it’s because she was.

She was slightly hesitant at first because everything felt a bit fuzzy and she wasn’t exactly sure who this mysterious admirer was dancing opposite her, but it was both unmistakable and innately obvious that this handsome boy in his striking tuxedo was the ONE. She couldn’t explain it but deep down she KNEW she was dancing with the man of her dreams. He smiled down at her and her knees instantly went weak as a myriad of butterflies threatened to explode from her chest. She couldn’t explain what was happening, she could only feel it. The atmosphere was glistening and the moment was so enchanting, she didn’t even try not to blush.

There was something delightfully familiar about this ballroom duet, this prince and princess swirling and swaying in time with the orchestra. The place was packed and the spiraling motions coated her peripheral vision in a vivid blur of brilliant light and color, but she only had eyes for her boy, and she couldn’t bring herself to unlock her gaze from his. They waltzed and whirled for hours it seemed until she observed a roguish grin sweep across his face before he winked and swept her through an empty doorway and out into the night air. What a stud. She found herself on an open courtyard balcony overlooking a lush green countryside which stretched out for miles in all directions. This was definitely NOT the city she fell asleep in. This was a palace, an old stone castle built right into the rocky bluffs and craggy cliffs of the hills which was silhouetted by the evening sun . She could barely catch her breath. What was happening? Was she in a fairytale?

Twilight approached swiftly as the stars beat down on the old stone veranda and formed pools of light that seemed to shimmer and ripple like tiny oceans. The mysterious boy took her by the hand and led her down a secret staircase that steered them down into the deep evergreen darkness below. The forest reached out to embrace the duo as as a nightly procession of crickets and tree frogs struck up a gentle chorus and serenaded the two lovers deeper into the enchanting arboreal realm. Only the sharpest of eyes peering down from the balcony above could glimpse their silent silhouettes steal through the flower garden, skirt past the goldfish pond, and then disappear into a heavy thicket of blue spruce and white pine.

The eventide deepened and yet she couldn’t brush aside whatever uncanny familiarity this dark, handsome stranger seemed to embody. What was it about this mystery boy? Had she known him before? There was something about his eyes… something enigmatic but beautiful. Was he a stranger from a distant dream? Was he a long-since forgotten acquaintance she’d met long ago? A sudden rush of adrenaline pulsed through her veins. This was beyond words. She marveled silently as they crept through the shadows like thieves, tunneling under the heavy evening hush that hung suspended above the treetops. Her pulse pounded like rising thunder and her eyes grew wide. Suddenly a strange sensation cascaded over her. She felt as though she were made for this moment. This dashing boy, this sense of romance and wonder all around her, this dreamlike reality. She squeezed the boy’s hand and felt him squeeze back.



She’d never felt so alive.

They pressed on into the thick undergrowth until at last the forest seemed to step aside and there in the center of a small clearing, they beheld the yawning mouth of a crystal cavern. The sudden sight struck her with goosebumps but not the kind you get when something frightens you… for this was real, genuine exhilaration. Her cheeks flushed with excitement. The jagged halo of rocks protruding from the hillside reminded her of a skeletal shark mouth, something you’d find in a museum. What was in this cavern? What was it doing here? How deep did it plunge? Where did it lead?

Suddenly the boy turned and smiled at her as if to say “shall we?” before motioning to the cave. Before she could answer, he leaned down and kissed her and in that instant, everything slowed down and she felt as though she could hear the stars overhead flicker and pop with supercharged electricity. The cloudy overcast pulled back and an endless celestial sky opened up above them. The world seemed to burst with energy and light. Still too surprised to utter a word, the tall handsome boy again took her by the hand in the darkness and whispered five words into her ear:

This is not a dream my love.

And then, hand-in-hand, they stepped into the black unknown, ready for anything. The ground heaved and gave way as the mighty sound of rushing wings split the silence like thunder and suddenly they were falling. She felt as though she’d stepped into another world in which gravity had no grip over her. The forest above, the castle in the bluffs, and the deep green countryside all seemed to uproot and plunge into the blackness after them as the great shark’s mouth swallowed them whole. She felt like screaming but not from panic or foreboding, rather a joyful giddy shout of pure bliss. Everything was beautiful and she was perfectly happy in this frozen moment, lost in an unknown world where above all else, she felt what it was like to experience total and overwhelming joy. She closed her eyes and tasted the moment. So this was what falling in love felt like.

When she opened her eyes again, she found herself back at home in her bedroom, everything exactly as she’d left it except for the wide smile on her face and the racing of her heartbeat.

Introverts

Sitting beside my window in this rainy evening put my mind onto certain things..small things,things which I have overlooked in the recent past,'coz of all the hectic course of my life..thinking on these lines,I recollect a conversation with one of my friend Sreyasi Sengupta last night..somewhere we made a point on being an Introvert, and being one myself..I thought whether the so called 'Extrovert' society has a little too much misconception about us.

The problem is that labeling someone as an Introvert is a very shallow assessment, full of common misconceptions. It’s more complex than that.According to science we 'Introverts' are a minority with only 25 percent people in our club.(I love to use the word club).But since we are a minority,this leads to a lot of misunderstandings, since society doesn’t have very much experience with our people.

So here are a few common misconceptions about Introverts .A list I put this list together myself:

Myth #1 – Introverts don’t like to talk.

This is not true. Introverts just don’t talk unless they have something to say. They hate small talk. Get an introvert talking about something they are interested in, and they won’t shut up for days.

Myth #2 – Introverts are shy.

Shyness has nothing to do with being an Introvert. Introverts are not necessarily afraid of people. What they need is a reason to interact. They don’t interact for the sake of interacting. If you want to talk to an Introvert, just start talking. Don’t worry about being polite.

Myth #3 – Introverts are rude.

Introverts often don’t see a reason for beating around the bush with social pleasantries. They want everyone to just be real and honest. Unfortunately, this is not acceptable in most settings, so Introverts can feel a lot of pressure to fit in, which they find exhausting.

Myth #4 – Introverts don’t like people.

On the contrary, Introverts intensely value the few friends they have. They can count their close friends on one hand. If you are lucky enough for an introvert to consider you a friend, you probably have a loyal ally for life. Once you have earned their respect as being a person of substance, you’re in.

Myth #5 – Introverts don’t like to go out in public.

Nonsense. Introverts just don’t like to go out in public FOR AS LONG. They also like to avoid the complications that are involved in public activities. They take in data and experiences very quickly, and as a result, don’t need to be there for long to “get it.” They’re ready to go home, recharge, and process it all. In fact, recharging is absolutely crucial for Introverts.

Myth #6 – Introverts always want to be alone.

Introverts are perfectly comfortable with their own thoughts. They think a lot. They daydream. They like to have problems to work on, puzzles to solve. But they can also get incredibly lonely if they don’t have anyone to share their discoveries with. They crave an authentic and sincere connection with ONE PERSON at a time.

Myth #7 – Introverts are weird.

Introverts are often individualists. They don’t follow the crowd. They’d prefer to be valued for their novel ways of living. They think for themselves and because of that, they often challenge the norm. They don’t make most decisions based on what is popular or trendy.

Myth #8 – Introverts are aloof nerds.

Introverts are people who primarily look inward, paying close attention to their thoughts and emotions. It’s not that they are incapable of paying attention to what is going on around them, it’s just that their inner world is much more stimulating and rewarding to them.

Myth #9 – Introverts don’t know how to relax and have fun.

Introverts typically relax at home or in nature, not in busy public places. Introverts are not thrill seekers and adrenaline junkies. If there is too much talking and noise going on, they shut down.

Myth #10 – Introverts can fix themselves and become Extroverts.

BULL SHIT..WE ARE HAPPY WITH WHO WE ARE..WE DON'T GIVE A DAMN WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT US. :)

It can be terribly destructive for an Introvert to deny themselves in order to get along in an Extrovert-Dominant World. Like other minorities, Introverts can end up hating themselves and others because of the differences.
If you are an Introvert,I would suggest you to feel proud of what you are, and think to yourself, what good would it do, to constantly blabber about everywhere and 'Extroverts' need to recognize and respect us, as we need to respect ourselves.


PS: DEDICATED TO SREYASI, AND ALL THE OTHERS WHO SHARE THE SAME FEELING AS ME..HAPPY LIVING.

untitled

You cringe at each creak on the old warped stairs but that doesn’t sway your determination to reach the second floor. Your gaze is fixed on the top rotten step as you endure the climb. The walls watch. Things crawl under your skin.

The servant’s door shrieks on its hinges as an endless corridor empties into a dark master bedroom, occupied by a moth-eaten canopy bed dripping with cobwebs. Sallow peeling wallpaper sheds from the walls like dead snakeskin and flutters to the floorboards as you brush past. In the corner on a tattered rug sits a child’s wooden rocking horse, the seat worn smooth, the corded mane and tail coated in dirt. A mahogany chest of drawers stands lifeless with the top drawer still pulled out as if someone left in a hurry; a cracked mirror clings to the wall just above it, but you know better than to catch a glimpse of yourself in it.

The air is thick and heavy and it seems you inhale the shadows around the room as they cower and shrink back from the light of your candle. Their twisted silhouettes and outlines bottleneck in your throat like dead leaves circling a drain, and during this moment it becomes obvious that the quiver of a gentle candle flame may not be enough to keep the ghosts under the stairs… from coming out.

Slipping back the way you came, you creep down the hall like a thief and peer over the broken banister. Below lies a sad arrangement of disarray… sheets draped over furniture, tattered curtains hanging by mere threads, a cold stone fireplace, wet rotten holes in the plaster walls, a chandelier with broken strings of crystals, a man’s derby hat still hanging from a coat rack, and all manner of papers and debris strewn about the room.

THE WALLS LEAN IN.

Your blood suddenly stirs. Someone is crying in the room above you. Behind you are the attic stairs.

Your body’s reaction to the sudden drop in temperature sends an icy chill down your spine like a razor blade. A window is open somewhere. A dead breeze wafts the scent of mold and decay over you as the orange pinch of flame atop your stump of candle flickers once, twice, and then is gone. The darkness settles over your head and shoulders like a deathly bridal veil as your heartbeat quickens and goosebumps spread across your flesh. A foul dust in the air coats your tongue with a stale film and turns your throat to dry cotton. Now directly in front of you, like a tomb in a mausoleum, the attic door stands wide open, hanging by one hinge. There is movement in the walls.

Each stair screams out in pain as you ascend into the pitch darkness and both hands grip the wooden banister for fear of stumbling and falling backwards. At the summit, a few paces into the room, a lightbulb chain hangs in the blackness and you hold your breath as you give it a sharp tug. Nothing. Instead of flooding the room with light it seems to deepen the shadows even more, stirring up darkness like a diver stirring up soot in the belly of a shipwreck. You can’t see your hand in front of your face. Sweat soaks through your clothes, a hammer pounds at the insides of your chest and hot shivers cascade down your backbone. The silence is deafening.

Suddenly something moves in the room. You want to scream but you can’t. The sound of fingernails tear and claw at a chalkboard. A door slams somewhere downstairs. Hot tears spill down your cheeks. The mirror in the master bedroom crashes to the floor. Something moves toward you in the darkness. Your body commands you to make a break for the staircase but you’re far too paralyzed to move. Someone is screaming downstairs, shrieking with murderous ferocity, wailing with misery like a lamenting sailor’s widow. Footsteps pound down the second story hall from the master bedroom and pause at the foot of the attic stairs. Your vision blurs.

They know you’re here...

Just some random thoughts on a gloomy overcast rainy day...maybe..but i ask myself, 'Is real life much different from this?'

Barrackpore Cantonment... the place where i grew up

I woke up today to the sounds of thunder grumbling in the clouds above, I opened my eyes to find that the sky was overcast and the weather was gloomy, I always had my romance with this kinda gloomy day and just when I wondered where all those good ol’ cloudy monsoon days had gone, mother nature decided to present me with ‘TODAY’.

I woke up, got myself a large mug of coffee and sat down by my window, gazing out of it, on a small pool of water, that had collected in front of my house, from the overnight rain, the reflection of the grey sky was evident on the undisturbed water surface, and looking at it, I let my mind wander off into a not so distant past..

 the road leading to our school

Only 4 years prior, I had enjoyed going to school in this weather, I remember we used to have our morning assembly in the long corridors of our school building, used to be quite a sight. I also remember how fresh the Barrackpore Cantonment area used to appear in a day like this, with all its green floral canopy..

We used to get ourselves drenched in the morning rain, whilst going to school, and then dried off under those large fans which we had had in our ancestral school building. There was something about the place..Something special, Something magical..

My thought was suddenly broken by a cycle rickshaw which passed over that pool, and I realized it was 8.30 in the morning, I finished my coffee and plugged the head phone in my ear, and while lying on my bed and staring at the ceiling above, my mind seemed to be at the place where I grew up, my mind, which unlike my physical self, wasn’t bound by the realms of the walls around me. It seemed to beckon me there, and after a while I realized there’s no place I can be rather than my good ol’ school at that moment, so I got dressed up, got my pod, and started my journey on a road which I had taken so many times..on a time, that seemed so so long ago..

ASB

As I travelled through those roads, goose bumps went all over my body, and my heart questioned..why do we have to grow up, why do all good times have to come to an end?

As I entered the cantonment area, I couldn’t contain my joy..It had been so long, so very long..Those green trees, those winding roads, fallen leaves, smell of the wet earth..

Barrackpore is the oldest cantonment in India..The buildings, the trees..they have been present for such a long time, our school building itself is from the British era, and their architecture is evident everywhere u see..

While cycling there my pod was playing LP, and the song was ‘burning in the skies’..I don’t know why but somehow the song was perfect for a dark, cold and gloomy day.


I was travelling through the winding road which runs parallel to a railway track, that through years of neglect and non-maintenance is now rusted and covered with weeds, still, few supply trains run on it, once in a blue moon, and if u happen to see one of them, u might as well be lucky to win a lotto..

As you travel along your eyes make out the trees and creepers up to a certain distance beyond which it’s really difficult to separate the trees. One can only make out the thick canopy entwined to create a wall containing many shades of green…resembling the various shades of life.

Many rusted warehouse rise from the behind the woody shrubbery, bearing testimony to the colonial past the place had shared. Built in the 1870’s u just wonder in amazement how they stood the test of time, I guess that’s a testament to the gritty British mentality.

The road carries on endlessly and I wonder only if the path of life was covered with such cool green shades all the way. Nature is selfless and this place bears testimony to it.

emptyness

And finally when I have reached my school building, I am surrounded by my loneliness, I can see the playground, I can see the cafeteria but where are my friends, where is the golden time that has passed away, I know it will never come back, it makes my eyes heavy as I try to check my emotions, in a distance I can see the CSD by with her son in her lap..I stare at her.. long after she has faded away in a distance .Birds can be heard chirping somewhere close, only to be broken off by the sound of a distant helicopter that hovers over the sky above..

I miss these sounds, somehow these sounds have got lost somewhere in the white noise and the blaring cacophony of life. Sitting there by the bench just outside the campus premises, I wonder, ‘why do I miss the place so much’, ‘why do I pain for it every day’, and my mind turns out blank. Maybe it’s because life was simpler those days, the world outside is a much more violent, ruthless one.. You don’t have a moment to wait, stare and appreciate the beautiful gift of life and probably that’s why we feel discontented no matter how happy we are, ‘coz the real happiness, lies within.

I sit there on that empty bench, as hours fade away, as a sense of contentment fills my heart. It’s drizzling again, and I look up at the sky. Raindrops fall on my face, indeed it feels divine, and as I sit there in the drizzle I realize that I don’t know what ever will happen to me in future, in my life, but certainly the times spent here ,those 14 years ,will be ‘the most cherished memories of my life’.

And for all you folks, who haven’t been to the cantonment area of Barrackpore, please do come and visit at least once, it will certainly help you rejuvenate your mind.

PS: a sincere apology to all my readers for not being regular in the last month and a half, been pretty busy with sems, but I promise to be regular from now onwards.

PSS:  a special thanks to LP and Coldplay for giving me company on such a lovely day with their lovely lyrics.

Reminiscence

Dizzy.

That’s how you feel when you run into a significant other you haven’t seen in a long time. A bitter avalanche of icy memories plows into your chest at breakneck speed, stealing the very breath from your lungs. Gasping for air, there’s really no use fighting it; the blow is instantaneous and it’s overpowering. Your eyes land on this person, your heart immediately stops dead, your knees go weak and you internally panic. You force yourself to walk over, but before either of you say hello, you’ve already got an endless amount of things you secretly want to say and an equally lengthy list of questions you wish you could ask.

What affection the two of you once shared was absolutely beautiful, consequently causing any unanticipated meetings thereafter to be twice as awkward. But as everyone always reminded you, life has a way of operating, God has a mysterious way of working, and sometimes things change without a moment’s warning. Even after it was all said and done, it’s still hard to imagine how things could’ve ever evolved from “always” to “never” in what seemed like a single dramatic heartbeat.

Months and months later, you run into this particular person unexpectedly and the realization hits you like a brick wall. The pain is still there. It’s almost as painful as the night you said goodbye, and what if there isn't any goodbye. Enough time has passed to con you into thinking you’ve begun to heal, and of course you probably have, but then you see this person and suddenly those old familiar aches begin to hurt all over again. You were finally beginning to mend after what happened, the relationship withered and ended, however dramatically, but the moment you lock eyes with this person you once shared so many dreams with, your stomach turns and a bitter taste fills your mouth. You can barely breathe. Half of you aches for things to be the way they once were, the other half longs to forget the whole thing ever happened. Regardless of your role in the conclusion of the relationship, it left you shattered and bringing it up after all this time would only pour another dose of potent heartbreak for both of you.

So there you are, standing face-to-face, unsure of what to say aside from the typical small talk jabber. A myriad of emotions swirl through both your heads but they only make former lovers more confused. Maybe you hug an awkward I-haven’t-seen-you-in-forever gesture, but that familiar mixed scent of perfume and cologne makes it even more impossible to know how to act, brief as the impending conversation inevitably will be. You just can’t stop thinking “things will never be the way they used to be” and that’s what hurts most. You both know where your identities lie, Who ultimately claims your hearts and where your fortresses are… and those things are truly what matter most, but this unforeseen meeting is still severely painful and there’s no denying that. It keeps you both awake for nights.

This is me being honest. I tossed and turned a lot last month. I thought about someone so much it was unhealthy.I had to escape.I ran.But that's a story for some other night. I would be doing grave injustice to my trip, and a special someone, if I weren't to dedicate a blog to it. But all said and done, I feel much more relaxed now to have finally let it out.

So here’s hoping I fall asleep easier tonight if I send a simple message out into the void:

Girl,

I still care about you. I think about you all the time. But things are different now.I’m praying for you constantly. I want so badly to know you’re being taken care of. I wish you the best in life, not because you’ll surely find it, but because you deserve it. You deserve so much.

I just wish you knew 'You are NEVER alone'.

Dip.

Insomnia

The clock in my laptop turns to 12.01 am and I realize,that 
                                    I CAN'T SLEEP.

Its as simple as that...Its been like this for about couple of months now.No matter how much I tried over the last couple of months to sleep at night I couldn't fall asleep, before 3am, barring a few nights(in which i was exceptionally tired).

this is ME

It’s a funny thing. Even now I often find myself wide awake staring at the ceiling, and when my play-list runs out, it seems as though all I do is toss and turn. However, a wry irony lurks within such sleepless nights by which my restlessness ultimately becomes the fuel for all sorts of dreams — consciously wakeful though they may be.

Some nights I close my eyes and drift off somewhere between dreams and reality — into subconscious territory where I’m not exactly wide awake, but I’m not sleeping like a stone either. It’s a middle ground,between consciousness and slumber, an abstract reverie where I can see, hear and feel everything around me but cannot control what happens. During THESE nights I must prepare for anything because there is no telling what can happen.

Sometimes I’m yanked back into reality by the most nightmarish threads of illusion, dreadful night terrors that leave me out of breath with a lead hammer pounding inside my chest and a cold sweat. Sometimes I feel myself fighting out of fear, clawing my way through a veil of restless sleep that covers me like a film, yet I cannot manage to slice my way through the thin layer of leathery nightmare. Sometimes I wake up missing my old school days, gripped in a painful swirl of miserable heartache — as if time never healed those scars,and I end up missing ASB a lot more, all over again.

Of course this is all very unpleasant information and is thus, a rather depressing note to end a blog entry on.

However, I delight in the mere fact that being a dreamer often exempts me from the rules of reality and her consequences, be they good or bad — and I love how dreams propel the mind of the dreamer into imagining what the world might be like if such dreams were in fact reality. It’s a compelling thought and it keeps me on my toes. I love that.

All this to say — when my heavy lids finally surrender to the weight of any given day’s worth of living, breathing, working, doing and being, I savor the moment with a vigorous (though slightly reticent) taste in my mouth because, as I’ve mentioned before, there’s truly no telling what might happen.

Reality is a lovely place but I wouldn’t want to live there.

the purple kite

When my mom pulled the covers off me this morning(read early-morning),I was still half asleep,and as I am not much of a morning person,I was pretty annoyed at first,but all that seemed to disappear as soon as Maa brought me a delight-ably yummy cup of hot chocolate.My romance with life continued because as I rose up from my bed,and went to my window,with the cup in my hand,to sit down, a pretty sight greeted me,the neighbor girl was on the roof with her brother,flying a brilliantly striped PURPLE KITE in the pristine blue February sky.


EYES WIDE OPEN!!!


There was something really rejuvenating about the whole thing,I just stared on,as the kite soared in the early morning wind.It kept on rising,until,it was a small dot.immediately I finished my cup,and went over there with my camera,just to capture the moment.I was pretty happy with the picture I got,and while looking at it,in my laptop screen,long after the morning had passed,something struck me.


Kites,or 'GHURI' as they call them here in Bengal,have something really inspirational and awe-inspiring about them.Well...before going further,I must add,that I can't fly a kite,even to save my life,but growing up in sub-urban Calcutta(yes,Calcutta),I know the sense of passion people down here attach,with flying kites.

Staring down at the picture in my laptop screen,I couldn't help but notice the parallel that can be drawn with flying a kite and life itself.Growing up as a kid I could never understand why people had such a craze about flying a piece of paper but over the years,I realized that a kite is not merely just a piece of paper,in fact it is lot more..It is symbolic of the eternal human desire to fly,it provides wings to the person's soul to soar up above the daily troubles of life and fly high.When the kite catches the great easterly and rises up,you sense a thrill of anticipation yourself,as if you are rising along with it.

I remember back then in my teenage days,I sometimes used to spend my entire afternoon just gazing up at the sky and watch those pretty colorful dots,soar up,gracefully.Staring at those flying kites almost took your mind off to a different world all-together,a world without any worries or limits,a world without boundaries where you feel a sense of freedom watching those independent dots waltz to the tune of the blowing breeze.Your heart dances gleefully at the sight of them and you suddenly find yourself,SMILING.

It was a lazy spring afternoon,and I was engrossed in my thoughts while my eyes was fixed at the picture that i had just clicked.The silence was broken when Maa called out for lunch.As I glanced over by my bedside table,I saw the clock indicating that it was 10 past 2 in the afternoon.My room was filled with bright sunlight coming through the open window,and as I went up to it,I realized the roof was empty.The girl and her brother where no-where to be seen,neither was the kite.


The roof was EMPTY!!!


I came back and sat by my bed,Maa called me again, and as I looked to hibernate my laptop,I found her.There she was,flying the kite,right in front of me.A smile came to my lips.Somehow I really loved the picture.I took one last view and put my computer to sleep.I just wondered if she would be there again,when my computer woke-up.

Something told me, SHE WOULD.

I managed a smile again..:)

emptyness

they say,there is a time for everything,and if you want to succeed in your life then that time-table should be maintained.but there-in lies 'me'.'coz you see,the clock in my computer says its 12.03 am,and a depressed 'me',is sitting in front of his laptop,with shaky hands,and a bottle(pint) of whiskey(which i stole from my dad's stock),and is writing down a blog,for which he couldn't decide a title.

they also say,that to be a good writer,you have to be an avid reader.well,as i m not much of a reader.I can't assure you,about the quality of this blog.all i can say is this is the perception of life,'through my eyes'.

i am blogging,because i want to,and its keeping my head occupied,from the world around me,of which i am so disgusted off..

i have some very basic questions going through my head right now,some of which i can't express in words,yet those which can,includes questions such as: "why does it happen,that decisions are based on our ego?",or"why is it,that we often tend to remember the bad memories,while we store the good ones in some cold-forgotten locker of our subconscious?".its really in times,when you are depressed as hell,does these questions come to your head,but you never get the answers....do you..!!



today afternoon,when i was working on designing my blog-page(yes,i m still a bloody amateur),i had a completely different topic in mind,which i was to post this evening.yet somehow,the chain of events leading up to the dreaded 12.03 am,demanded 'me',to 'this',which makes me think of yet another thing.."life's too unpredictable,don't you think".

as i take the first sip of this undiluted whiskey (tastes like hell),i can't help but ponder ,why does life has to be so hard all the time.it keeps coming back at you.it never gives you time to settle,and the moment you think,you have a leash on it,the 'happy' life,slips away again.i just wish,i am consumed by the silence and the darkness of the serene night.darkness is bliss.at
least for me.

so long for now,i just wish,life as it is,could be much better,if it were a lil' simpler.but then again...i guess,it's just a wishful thinking of a semi-drunk 20 year old..happy living folks.


ps: dear readers,i apologize for the grammatical errors in the casing of the letters,because i am too damn tipsy and frustrated to care for 'shift keys' and all.and to all those who are wondering,how i managed to write so properly,it's because from 12.03am to 12.50am,i have downed only 1 peg of the my alcoholic companion,and now,that i am done blogging,i must concentrate..:)

..someone special

Well it has been a long time since I was thinking of updating my blog account,just to make it a tad more interesting read.So,here I am with an all rejuvenated blog of my own,coz at the end of the day 'JO DIKHTA HAI,WAHI BIKTA HAI' (if you present your product properly it will get sold).

So,after thinking a lot on what my first post should be,I couldn't think of anything else,but this topic.You see,love is a very powerful emotion,perhaps,the most powerful human emotion of all and it has been nearly 3 years now,that I am in love with someone..someone special..

In the last 5 years,I have seen many people claim that they have found their true love and they have been made for each other and all that stuff,only to part their separate ways after a few days,which brings a basic question to my mind-"How do you define love?"

Is it only the feeling of happiness and comfort in someone's company,the feeling that you can share all your worries and happiness with your partner,or is it something much more deep and complicated.

When you are spending a lazy winter afternoon with your loved one snugly fitted-in and you gaze deep into her eyes and watch your reflection on it,something deep strikes a note in your heart,telling you,that you want this moment to go-on forever.

In the last 3 years of my 'LOVE'(yes,I don't like the word 'relation'),I have seen many ups and downs.Sometimes it feels downright annoying and frustrating,yet somehow,after a while,the very frustration,the very person upon whom you are so desperately annoyed upon,seems to be the one whom you miss the most.There have been many such instances when we had a fight,and that too upon the most basic of things(well,now that I come to think of them),but the fact is 3 years down the line,she is still the only person,whose presence,whose touch,whose voice,I long for,so dearly.

I don't even know what I am saying and I know,I am not being able to put things down properly,this always happens to me,but the thing is I just wanted to share how much special she is to me,and in between all these fights and disputes,there have been those special precious moments of 'DIVINE MAGIC',which is all a 20 year old boy could ask for.

I dedicate this post to her,and I know,for the figure she has been to me,this is really not justified.Still this is my piece of mind,with all its imperfections.
I love you.

PS: And as always,I didn't quite come-up with what I expected.Somehow words and expressions always fail me,when I sit to write them down.Oh,well..so long,as for now,i leave you with a piece of my mind,more so,'a piece of my life'..