The Bitch I Miss. A Lot.

I met my chaddi-buddy after a long time. You might say that I was avoiding the encounter because I knew the upshot all along. She was the one who spoilt the impeccant mind that once I held dear and literally became my Guru...umm… Guruma, I guess!
I can say proudly that whatever I learnt-regarding certain vistas of life- is from her master-blunders! A free-spirit, a rebel, a dreamer who often slammed me for being too good to be true (But now I know she did that as she had already detected that Black Swan in me).And at some point or other I hated her! And then again she is the one with whom I had the best ‘addas’…the best ever! My best bitchy girlfriend.  I still miss the girl who mollified the fear of the extremely ‘chapofied’ me (school-stuffs, you know, badass teachers and all) and made me burst into laughter within a few minutes.

And today when she came to me and started talking, all I could hear is “Blah,blah,blah” or more precisely the exact noise that  Barney comes across whenever Ted starts blabbering.
And this was the acrid truth I knew I would have to face. It’s not her fault, not mine either. May be in the numerous seasons of the daily soap called ‘Life’, some people goes ahead, their paths diverge and from closest pals they become old acquaintances! But it is those happy seasons that you keep close to your heart, the seasons which you can never rerun!

Indeed a nitwit..

I was wallowing about the motto “go by the instinct” just a few days back. But sometimes following your instinct hurts, hurts bad. And then I experience exactly what they say “sushtho sorir ke byasto kora”.
But then I feel like besh korchhi, whatever frigging things I’m doing I’m doing to myself!
And I’m enjoying it. Man shedding a few ‘precious’ tears or being delirious and doing something rash are much better than just bumming around!
My new mantra has changed to “Chobbo bina chyan kahan re….!”
From “karma is a bitch” to this wacky new one, I must say, a fagging journey!
My best friend must be proud of me. I am!

P.S. Gawwd, what have I just written?!
Oh! I get it, I think this post epitomizes the term DEMENTED RAVINGS.

No-nonsense

Today, out of the blue, I had the misfortune to encounter some old stuffs (it’s been a virtual encounter. Thank god for that!) I got perplexed for good measure. But duh, I sense the nonsense in me (it’s a very recurring case indeed!)

And it’s actually GRAET. Now if I look back I feel excessively pleased for being what I am now, at least at this instant I’m feeling so. To this point I must add what I always add,” akhon mone hochhe,kal nao hote pare…but akhon jeta mone hochhe setao to thik,genuine.”

Someone has finally stopped thinking and she is going by the instinct! There are obviously fleeting hesitations and reasons that argue but come on lets not give them a damn!!
And it's time to shut the Voices up (only if they don't agree with me, heehaw!)

The Boy Who Will Always Live

I watched the very last movie twice and the sense of sadness increased with each dialogue, with each scene. Because I knew that this is the end- the end of an epoch. The last movie, I believe, made everybody much melancholiac. While turning forward the last page of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows I awaited for the movies which were yet to come. And now we have nothing to look forward any more. Everything comes to an end and we can never hope for a better ending than this for the boy who lived.

The seven books and eight movies- I’d felt each character grow and grew up with them.
My sister still sulks about how her little sister made it impossible to follow the movie- Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets- throwing random curious questions about Dobby (Oh! I loved him and his eyes so much), Hogwarts, the sky-like ceiling of the great hall, the Whomping Willow, the characters and everything.
I totally believed that Hogwarts exists (I still do by the way. Period.).And this belief was reinforced by the sudden arrivals of a white owl in our balcony. Ofcourse I was 11 then! And in the dead of night I waited, standing by the window, for a letter and the headmaster of Indian Hogwarts! Even Howrah station seemed so mysterious to me!

The books were dearer to me because I was always a keen reader. Also, by the time the 3^rd movie released I’d read all the first five books.
Harry shared everything with me.
It’s hard to believe that the spellbounding ride of J.K.Rowling has ended!
But I know for sure that it’s a never ending ride. Those beloved books will take me back to the world of magic whenever I wish to.

P.S. A kid even tried to speak in parcel-tongue for a while but couldn’t succeed!! 

I was wishing to let it rain only a moment ago so that I could enjoy my steamy cup of coffee and Norah Jones (completely hooked to it all over again!). But suddenly the sounds of paper pipes (vepus) make me remember that today is Rathajatra. Thousands of kids may be, rather must be, praying to God not to rain today. How selfish of me! How time makes us selfish and indifferent to everything!!

p.s. I would love to attach the picture the  good old Rath of ours. But now i don't even know where it is! May be bundled up somewhere in the attic...

Those places haven’t changed,

And the seasons are still the same.
The sunbeams, the painted clouds, the summer rain
And all that once our eyes had seen together!

Those lonesome places bring back visions of which we two were part.

Words and silence. Laughter and exasperation.

And the feeling of your eyes on me.
Yes, I’m not used to heartbreaks,
the sense of abandonment;
But I’m grateful that it is you who broke my heart!

We were delusional. Crazy twinkle-eyed kids.
Ready to conquer Time!
We knew not from where we have come,

Not interested where we would go.
Our paths crossed- I’m glad I met you

Our paths diverged- I’m glad I don’t know you anymore.

Little Girl in a white dress and a red belt
With loosened ribbons

Hanging from her hair, and the clock strikes 7am

Runs she-unwilling-towards the gate leaving her mother’s warm shawl behind
On a misty wintry morning.

And she prays,” Let me grow up quick and I won’t have to reach school in unholy hour like this”

The Teenager still in a white dress and a red belt

(Does the dress get, somehow, a little shorter, showing off the legs?!)

With braided hair and hundreds of clips that grapple with her trendy haircut

She throws away the ribbon while coming home-grinning and locking gazes!

And she prays,” Let me grow up quick and I won’t have to wear this uniform and the stupid
ribbon and look plain”

A woman found the Little Girl and the Teenager too eager to grow up

In the pages of her diary-yellow and dog eared

And the first drops of summer rains, bright tiny ladies clog dancing while soaking in them,

The black shoes and white socks-sodden!

The queue in front of the food stalls everyday!
 If she goes by that place nowadays the shopkeeper still says 

“You haven’t changed!”

And all she can do is make a secret wish:  “Let me be them once again and I won’t rue growing up, not even for a second”

A Little More of My Blahs

Even with the gruelling thoughts of the exams, yesterday I waited. I waited for a certain something. And this morning I went out to the examination centre – waiting! Ya, as usual, nothing happened. I appeared for my exams and came home, and again the thought came hurrying back and started bugging me. It doesn’t matter anymore. I thought I’ve let go of things but did not know there are still a few things I am holding on to till today. The more I try to let go, the more I think about it and end up being inside the closet.

                  It is peculiar that how all of a sudden one feels all grown up. Grown up just by a single blow from life. I dread that if I feel like this now what will happen when I will be 25 or something! May be I’ll be strong enough to stand tall then. A friend once told me, “You have never struggled to have what you wanted. You always get them easily.” May be you were right! I have never struggled. And lets put it this way,ummm, this girl doesn’t know how to struggle and survive. But I’ll find out the way, I guess! Shit happens! And everybody has to go down in it to sort things out!

P.S. Am i being a bit of a downer,eh?!!

A Fight, A Fall and those Evergreen Horses

It was a wintry evening, may be the first week of January, and that day I watched a magical live concert. 

I saw the advertisement on a paper: Mohiner Ghoraguli presents “Abar Bochhor Tirish Pore”, suddenly I had a vision of a lonesome cassette lying inside my sister’s messy drawer and a 9 year old putting it inside the tape recorder. And some magical tunes came rushing back to me. Yes, that child was myself who didn’t understand anything about those songs but somehow managed to listen to the entire cassette. And she kept on sighing, "Only if my parents could understand that” while the dark room filled with “Porashonar Jolanjoli bhebe murkho bolchho ki…”

Years passed, and memories withered. Even when I listened to those songs afterwards, I felt nothing such strong (though one might often found me correcting people with “ No that song is originally by Mohiner Ghoraguli, aktu bangla gaan shon please!”). But the words- Abar Bochhor Tirish Pore-intrigued me to scheme a plan for the concert. And that was my biggest mistake. Obstacles have to come in the way whenever I plan anything. This time the Obstacles were a bitter fight on the day before and a tragic fall (at the bathroom!) on the morning of the concert. A fall that had left my spinal cord fractured. But the enchantment  soon countered the nasty pain and all of a sudden I found myself running for a seat and savouring the moments with occasional sprays of Rellispray on my back.

It was marvellous. More so because I belong to that group which Ranjan Ghoshal had attributed as “Ar tora?! Tora toh tokhon jonmasini!”

And now, the Ghoras, somehow, is in my blood. I sing them when I am high (pun intended!)  and when I’m low…when I feel lonely and when I feel special to have so many dearests in my life…in rain and sun….in winter and summer, I can go on listening to them forever.

I started loving them with “Porashonar Jolanjoli” and while I’m writing this the four walls of my room are resonating:

Kalke ratri pohale

Doi er fonta kopale

Fountain pen saamle rakhi

Mori admit card harale

Binita kemon achho?

Bipod amar

Porsu B.A Part 2

Ki jani ki likhbo khatay

Ki jani ki likhbo khatay…

Summer and an Old Cabinet

As I was going to my guitar class today, sitting next to the bus driver, I gazed at the road while thousands of thoughts hovered inside my head, and suddenly I got glimpses of colours- fiery colours. My eyes traveled upwards from the blackness of the road and saw those scarlet and yellow flowers. The Krisnochura and Radhachura trees adorned the desolate sky. And someone hummed in my ears,”Summer…Summer…Summer…” Not the intolerable heat, not even the sweat dripping down my face made me realize that summer has come but these two ‘lovers’. They used to make me happy, they still do.

       

        Summer was never a favourite season; tell me which Indian likes Summer! But suddenly I see myself reminiscing. The whole season was centered around the Summer Holiday…In the afternoon when the whole house was having its beloved siesta, I used to sneak out of my room and go to the attic with a storybook and didn’t return till I hear my mother calling my name at the top of her voice. Playing ‘rannabati’, recreating the adventures of The Famous Fives at the terrace,listening to the “golpodadur asor” on radio... And the mouth-watering kacha aam and hojmi. Sluurp! My life and death task before the beginning of the summer vacation was to nag,just to get the keys of  a cabinet. The cabinet full of magazines (Anandamela,Suktara etc) from my parents childhood to date. How me and Sanu plotted and planned for hours to read those precious little things!

       

      And now when I look back I miss ‘my’ Summer days and I feel that at one time this girl loved summer. Nothing remained the same now, no summer vacation, no ‘golpodadur asor’ …nothing. Though I stand in front of the “old and rusty’ cabinet sometimes and wonder, but never dared to open it again!

And today those fiery colours,those two ‘lovers’ evoke in me the same sensation that once a little girl had felt when her Jethima finally handed her the keys.

ভেবেছিলাম নিছক দেশলাইয়ের আগুন 

কতক্ষনই বা জ্বলবে!
সময় কেটে যাচ্ছে, নিভছে না
আরো সময় কাটছে, নিভছে না.

বেড়ে যাচ্ছে কি? নাকি ছড়িয়ে পড়ছে?
চ্যালেঞ্জ করেছিলাম, আর তাছিল্ল্যভরে ছুঁড়ে ফেলেছিলাম সব ভয়
বলেছিলাম, বাধা পেরিয়ে চলতে পারাটাই তো জীবন
পালাব না আমি.

পালাতে চাইনি না পারিনি- আর মনে নেই
মনে নেই অনেক কিছুই,

এখন শুধু প্রশ্ন করি, " তুই কি? দাবানল না দেশলাই?"
দেখি এক কোণে জমে আছে জ্বলেপুড়ে যাওয়া দেশলাই - স্তূপাকার অপচয়.

A Journey back to whatever it was..

Okay, I know you all are going to have a good laugh but I am going to share this anyway… it’s been almost a month that I am tutoring a kid (with a strong hope that she won’t turn out to be just like me). Every time I go to her place it brings back some special memories of my life-schooldays and ‘kiddo’days…

                   I remember I had my first private tutor when I was in class 5. Oh!! That woman was a pain in my ass … she was trying me to understand all about latitude and longitude (how I hated geography!!) and all I could concentrate on was her ugly, long nails painted in different colours different weeks. Believe me; she used to show me the nail polishes she had recently bought. And that pissed the hell out of me… that evil woman should have understood how a 10yr old, who is not allowed to wear nail colours, feels…sigh... I was so desperate to grow up then. And needless to say I was an awful student =)

                   And now when I teach ‘my’ student (coincidentally she’s in class 5 too) I understand how happy I was then… those sexy slim books are real treat to my eyes. Pictures of “ধুতুরা  ফুল ” in Life science book, “কিশলয়”, “নব  গণিত  মুকুল ”, “Gulmohor” and of course the evil Geography book by বসু  ও  মৌলিক - all seems heaven. She hates to study geography too and that’s why I give her homework on geography almost everyday and watch the same reflection in her eyes that I used to be so familiar with …umm…it has been almost a decade now… how time passes by!!!

                            Love those days…. And miss them terribly…

P.S. I had 2 private tutors after that evil one and I drove them nuts as well…but I am grateful to them for making me whatever shitty thing I am today… one taught me getting good scores could be turned into an obsession (which I completely forgot after my 10^th though) and another taught me to love literature and to love myself… wherever you are thank you for everything… 

Retrospection

It’s been almost like an year since I’ve last visited my blog , so forget about posting anything.. Sometimes even I forget that I have a blog…. I don know what made me writing today…the reason might be the upcoming selection test which happens to be on next Monday. Usually at this period I feel like doing anything but study. Huh, the voice inside my head just asked a pretty lame question…”when the hell you like studying San??!!” “ohh..shut up now…this is my blog alright!!”

           Whatever… it’s 2011 and I’m 19… and still the same ol’ confused and clueless bitch I used to be… so much happened throughout the year… I learnt quite a few things…learnt them in a hard way though… we always become habituated to happiness so easily and quickly that never think twice about the consequences… the hard way...

     But you can never quit or escape… only acceptance makes life easier, the oh-so-fucking great lesson of acceptance. This time you can run away but there is always another time when you have to come back and that is your moment of truth…

 Crap,what am I writing!! Whatever!!

            Lost my track…I think its better to sign off now and bury my nose into the books… don know when I am gonna post again but believe me that’s gonna be just like this one, full of  crap…

Impression, soleil levant by Monet