Sunday, December 23, 2007


Winters do something to you...whether it’s those five extra minutes you crave to stay under the quilt or the run you want to run to feel a tad bit warmer, winters bring in times which are not lived otherwise.

Winter, for me, has always marked its arrival with the smell of naphthalene balls mingling with the smell of woolens locked up over a year. Like the countless mufflers and stoles, memories come flooding out-memories long forgotten, memories recently lived and memories that will never be lived again...

I don’t know whether it’s just me, but I find colours growing brighter during the winters-the proofs to which are the vegetable markets. The violet of the brinjals, the green of the cabbage-they all grow brighter. Don’t they?

Winters got me my first blazer, my first puff of cigarettes, my first sip of alcohol, my first baking experience and my first gift from Santa! The waft of freshly fried Koraishutir Kochuri, the candy floss in the zoo which melted in my mouth, the man who sells Joynogorer Mowa and the Kashmiri shawlwallahs...tiles which make up the mosaic of my winter memories.

The Nahoum’s Plum Cake with all its glory, the Park Street Santa who never runs out of Éclairs, the streamers on the Flury’s glass walls...I can’t really tell when my winter memories mingle with my Christmas memories and make up the two inseparable faces of the coin which I call “Winter Memories”. The fake Christmas tree at home which is decked up in trinkets every year, the happy Santa whose sack overflows with bright boxes...pieces of childhood which refuse to be put under the spell of Oblivion. Our house doesn’t have a fireplace, but Santa did come visiting every year. No, I never caught a glimpse of red and white hurrying past my bed, but I always found a brightly packaged gift (which always had a note addressed to me, in a handwriting resembling my mother’s)-next to my tree which shined in all its glory-complete with fake cotton wool snow.

In this book of memories, I added a chapter this year-unimaginatively titled “Delhi” .the two degree nights, the four degree mornings; the thick blanket of fog over my college froze my bones which thawed with a sip of the college café noodle soup. The new winter clothes from Sarojini, the draught that slapped my face in the auto, the striped socks, my college sweatshirt-they all added to a major part of my “growing up”.

But no matter how old I grow, I know that some Santa is always looking at me from his igloo with Rudolf by his side, and there’s no way I’m going to believe the “truth” behind the myth. And I shudder to think of the day when the walk down New Market in its Christmas look will stop creating the magic it’s always played on me...

Some places are meant to be Neverlands forever and it’s up to them to bring out the Peter Pan in all of us...for all the winters to come.

P.S: Merry Christmas to all of you, have a great year ahead...

Friday, December 21, 2007 i am

"I'll be home for Christmas
You can count on me
Please have some snow and mistletoe
And presents by the tree..."

Thursday, December 6, 2007

i fell down and cut my knee.quite a deep cut.
the dettol burnt the wound.the blood stained my tweed skirt.
i sat through mill on the floss as my socks got wet.
i didnt cry.
the tetanus pinched my skin,the cotton soaked the blood.
i hailed the stopped at IHC.
the plays that day were good.performance went fine.
the claps felt good,but my knee hurt.
i didnt cry.
walked in at room was dark.
the night was cold,so was my dinner.
i looked down from the terrace-not a car on the street.
no one spoke.cigarette smoke filled the air.
i cried,i cried,i cried.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

fevered ramblings

there i was.writhing in pain in someone else's bed-looking up at the ceiling of someone else's house.the fever split my head and i cried-hoping someone would listen.anyone.
hoping someone would come and put that palm on my forehead,say something to ease the pain.the tears made it even more unbearable,i couldn't get the sleep i so needed.
i called him up.once,twice,thrice.this time he shouted.there's only so much a man can take.
i couldn't go on like an alien land,with a throbbing head,with a burning body.
i remembered what she had written in my diary:
"i'm sure we will always stay this way.even though you're such a chatterbox,you say it best when you nothing at all."...and here i was-crying in pain,howling for some human form by my side-tired of relating my pain to the walls.couldn't she hear me this time?what happened to the promises?forgotten with the boxes of shared tiffin?
out of sight,out of mind?well,maybe.maybe distance IS too strong an opponent for love....
it's amazing how philosophical you can get with a 100+ temperature.of the many things that you realise,the foremost is the fact that nothing stays-love,friendship,promises...nothing.
you begin to find the truth in the age old statement of man being an island.waves come,waves go...the water flows across leaving behind faint trails which get hidden under the sands of time.the waves come again,drench the island with life...and leave.this goes on till there is no island anymore.just one whole expanse of sea-no land in sight,no life around-just an endless and eternal ring of silence....
"...Then the busy years went rushing by us-
we lost our starry notions on the way.
if by chance i'd see you in the tavern,
we'd smile at one another and we'd say,
those were the days,my friend-
we thought they'd never end..."
~Bobby Vinton

Saturday, October 13, 2007

that thing i did...

Aisi Rimjhim Aisi Puhaaren

Aisi Hi Thi Barsaat

The sky turned a steel grey,

The clouds had something to say…

The winds tried playing with my hair,

It may rain hard here…

Or leave behind just a fond tear….

Khud Se Judaa Aur Jug Se Paraaye

Hum Dono The Saath

We walked together-our fingers searching for eternity,

Our hearts showed us the way to serenity….

We drank with our eyes-the red wine from love’s grail,

Our eyes met, our desires set sail-

Just the beginning of our tale…

Phir Se Woh Saawan Ab Kyon Na Aaye

It hurts only when I breathe…

Shattering of our blue confetti dream,

Fading away of our little world into the blinding beam.

It rains again today-

The clouds again have something to say….

They cry on me-drenching me with their pain….

Din Dhal Jaye Par Raat Na Aaye…….

P.S:this is something i used to do long time back,i used to take paragraphs of some of my favourite songs and then try creating poetry with what the lines meant to me...this one's from "Guide"

Monday, October 1, 2007

the home coming...

the first step on the city's tarmac and i knew i was home...
i knew that beyond that wall,everyone speaks my language...
i knew that the faces which will greet me will have smiles...
i knew the taxis would be yellow ambassadors instead of those black and yellow monsters back there...
i knew phuchka will be called "phuchka" and not "golgappa"...
i knew "adda" will no more just another "bong" word uttered by those who come from "cal"...
i knew i would be sleeping on my bed...after what seems like an eternity...
its crazy how you take things for granted...
your bed,your room...and even your WC...this is when you realise their worth!
i am where i belong...
and yes,hong kong restaurant got a new banner :)...
and lords' is all done up with airtel ads!

Tuesday, September 25, 2007


Colours.Shapes.They make life what it is.
The huge rectangular navy blue sky rained that night.
Colourless drops of hope.
Felt like heaven,or a lot like it.
Our grey city was bathed by the neons that evening.
Me in green.You in crimson.
Little square taxis and long blue buses stopped to see us by.
Smiles were smiled,Zimmerman signed-
On a white cylinder in a white box.
Sands of time drew a shape-
On the land we stand on.
Today,that circle is complete again,
And we are under the same sky.
Blue winged butterflies dance on our palms-
Drawing white lines of dreams-old and new,
And we are glad that,now,they're all true.

Monday, September 24, 2007


Down the rusted stairs which go
round and round,
In that little white room-
That's where they met.
She came looking for the dreams he sold,
As he sat painting dreams with cigarette smoke...
She looked around,took a chair,
He weaved dreams into the air.
The keyhole brought in a streak of dust-
It went through the rings of smoke he drew.
A hint of smile played on her lips,
She knew this was the one she wanted.
He sold it for a tear and a half...,
And the bargain was made.
The dream would be lived when the westward wind
Would bring in clouds of rain.
The tears would be shed by these clouds-
On his broken windowpane.
She looked through the keyhole and felt the sun,
Maybe,tomorrow,it will rain again...

Saturday, September 1, 2007

If I were a beginning, I would be:- the beginning of the monsoons
If I were a month, I would be: -October
If I were a day of the week, I would be :– Friday
If I were a time of day, I would be: - Dawn
If I were a planet, I would be:-Pluto
If I were a season, I would be:- Monsoons
If I were a sea animal, I would be:-Sea Anemone
If I were a direction, I would be:-Parallel
If I were a piece of furniture, I would be:-An old Rocking Chair
If I were a sin, I would be:-Lust
If I were a liquid, I would be:-the first drop of tear
If I were a fraud/scare, I would be:-"Peter the Cheater"
If I were a gem, I would be:-Emerald
If I were a tree, I would be:-Maple
If I were a tool, I would be –A Pair of Scissors
If I were a flower/plant, I would be:- A Blue Orchid
If I were a kind of weather, I would be:-A thunderstorm,digging up the graves of past
If I were a musical instrument, I would be:-a Violin
If I were an animal, I would be:- Tiger
If I were an emotion, I would be:-Melancholy
If I were a vegetable, I would be:-Lady's Finger
If I were a sound, I would be:-the distant strains of a flute
I were an element, I would be:-Fire
If I were a car, I would be:-Rolls Royce
If I were a song, I would be:-Fix you
If I were a food, I would be:-Phuchka
If I were a place, I would be:-the Marianas Trench
If I were a material, I would be:-Satin
If I were a taste, I would be:-the taste of soil in your mouth after a fall
If I were a scent, I would be:-the scent of a new born.
If I were a religion, I would be:-Courage
If I were a sentence, I would be:-the one on my gravestone
If I were a body part, I would be:-the cornea.
If I were a facial expression, I would be:-the right eyebrow lift
If I were a subject in college, I would be:-Modern Indian Drama
If I were a shape, I would be:-ellipse
If I were a quantity, I would be:-a yard
If I were a colour, I would be:-black
If I were a thing, I would be:-a Gramophone
If I were a landmass, I would be:-an island in the middle of the pacific
If I were a book, I would be:-"The Color Purple"
If I were a monument, I would be:-the leaning tower of pisa
If I were an artist, I would be:-colouring the town red
If I were a collection of poems, I would be:-Ariel
If I were a landscape, I would be:-the grand canyon
If I were a watch, I would be.- simple with a black leather strap
If I were God, I would be:-stressed
If I were a vowel, I would be: U
If I were a consonant, I would be: Z
If I were a formula, I would be:-(A+B)^2=A^2+B^2+2AB
If I were a Science, I would be:-Biology
If I were a theory, I would be:-The theory of fluid mechanics
If I were a famous person, I would be.:-A violinist.
If I were an electronic equipment, I would be:-an alarm clock
If I were sport, I would be:-Chess
If I were a movie, I would be:-The Pianist
If I were a cartoon, I would be:-Veronica Lodge
If I were an explorer, I would be:-Amerigo Vespucci
If I were a scientist, I would be:-a mad woman
If I were a relation, I would be:-a mother
If I were a river, I would be:-Saryu
If I were intoxication, I would be:-Ecstasy
If I were alone, I would be:-lonely
If I were a question, then I would be:-what the fuck?
If I were a hobby, I would be:-Painting
If I were a habit, I would be:-Putting the toilet seat down
If I were in an atom, I would be:-a neutron
If I were an end, I would be:-the end of time.
If I were you, I would be:-envious

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

it's crazy watching the rains from the english dept ledge...
rains have always been special to me...
those tiffin times at school when we ran around in the muddy field with our uniforms sticking to our bodies....
that run to the phuchkawallah when it rained in golf green...
those endless hours of chitchat and the world of gossips unveiled in that dark staircase...
that rainy evening ,that phone call as i ran to the tolly metro...
the gradual darkening of the sky...the clouds...the drops...
the janpath shops which brought down their shutters....
the wet roads infront of eatopia....
the leaking roof of the NSD verandah...
those chats under the leaking shade of the hauz khas bus stop...
those movies watched at siri fort with hair dripping with water...
the runs through the field...splashing mud,singing,shouting...becoming the kids we were...

whether it's park street or punjabi bagh,gariahat or greater kailash...
the rains are just what they used to be...
magical,refreshing and exhilarating.

Friday, July 27, 2007

two weeks

two weeks in college!
i would be lying if i said i dont like it...what the hell,i seem to be loving it!
the majestic red brick building casts a spell on me each morning....the lush green lawn with the plants etching out the college emblem....the audi...the orientations...this is what i always wanted to do,always wanted to live through.
we have these huge railing-less french windows with wide seating spaces....this is where i am always,leaning down from the third storey,watching girls walk in and walk out...with their varied expressions,vivid bitchings and eyes which dream on...
but in the midst of it all,i miss home...the moment i find myself enjoying college,i pine to have shreya with best friend with whom i have shared the smallest of joys and biggest of fears...the moment i dig into the bhel puri outside college,i miss suryaa who couldnt let keep her hands off my bhel puri back home,miss anindita when i smile to myself at some perverted hidden meaning i find out of prosaic stuff,which no one else gets...miss the corridor which takes you the library where this bunch of girls laughed away their times unaware of the years of solitude which were to follow...
but yes,i am not friend less here...made some of the cutest ones...virge,adreeka,zoya,nair,tara,sara....
they are the reasons why i dont cry for home nowadays...the tears dont come,but the heart aches and pines and the mind wanders off to the bustling gariahat more teeming with people,or the dingy JU corridors where my best friend is busy chatting up with her new friends...or the white house in Beniapukur lane where two souls dreamt their dreams together...
i love college,i love the siri fort audi,love the TGIF food,love the drive to Noida...but all that is reduced to zilch next to my love for the place i call home,the place where i loved and i hated,i learnt and i faltered,i met and i departed, and did so much more...

Thursday, July 19, 2007


i am in a new city...
with new people...
talking a new language,
and walking new roads...
sometimes the newness just gets too much and i am made to crave...
for the dusty lanes i grew up in ...
the "aaste ladies" of the conductors...
the "phuchka" in the "shaal pata"....

and in short i am reminded and made to crave for the place i call home and this blog is the only remnant i have of it...
and i cant help but get back!!
so guys,i am back i think!

Tuesday, July 3, 2007

last post

This happens to be my last blog post. Maybe I wont delete my blog, it will be there bearing a testimony to the times I suffered under the biggest misconception of my life.

Right now, in this city, there happens to be around 60 people who write better than me so I would rather request you not to waste your time reading this “substandard” blog of mine.

Thanks to all of you who have read the incorrigible shit that I write and left behind comments.

I have loved it all this while...and I am sure it would have got only better in all the times to come.

But I am not worthy of better times...

Thanks a lot.

P.S:I don’t want your sympathies or your requests to blog again

i have been tagged

tagged??!!!i have always dreaded this....

8 things about me:
1.i am unapologetic.i don't repent anything i do-if i have been rude,the person was very well deserving of all the flack he got
2.i used to write stuff,but wont any longer.
3.i am one of those few people who do not like cheesecake-cakes are meant to be sweet and not cheesy(in taste i mean)
4.i have around 25 pairs of shoes which i seldom wear and 100 pairs of earrings which i use and overuse.
5.i am moody.very.(this should have been in the #1 slot)
6.i am too much in love with the city i live in,and would hate to leave it for even the best college in the country
7.i fear i might just end up doing that.
8.i am over rated-everyone overrates me.teachers,parents,boyfriend,girlfriend,senior,junior,sister,brother.EVERYONE!!! do i have tag people??bull!!
i tag neel,indranil and anindita....
i hereby declare that i dont take any responsibility and not,in any way,am liable if the people i tagged dont reciprocate!!

Monday, July 2, 2007

i really don't know what is happening to me or to the world around.
people have become so,i am not Mother Teresa part II,but the way old bonds are decaying,it will soon be time to bid each of my "friends" a goodbye.
maybe i am turning into a misfit,but i cant take this anymore....
smiles which lightened up my days have been reduced to a fake curve of the lips...words which meant a world to me are now half hearted attempts at trying to make me feel better.
i repeat,i don't know what's happening to me.
i see my old dreams realising but i don't want them anymore....i am rebelling,i am shouting back....
doing things i have never done...
this is the best of times,this is the worst of times...
i walk on with fragile hopes which break into a thousand pieces on some unknown footpath-trampled by a thousand strangers...
but i walk on...undecided,un planned and disillusioned.

Saturday, June 23, 2007


Phew! I am done at last! It began sometime in the late Decembers....and it’s been going on since then.

After my bout of jaundice, I finally started studying for my boards in December. The boards exams came and went and soon trickled in the volley of law tests...umm, from what I remember, I sat for 6 of them, making through one, which I happily let go. Then of course, there were the colleges!

And boy, what an experience! My days were all about Xeroxing mark sheets, queuing up to get them attested, chatting up with the school receptionist and then haggling for the right school stamp. But soon the reality slapped me with a thud, and I realized it’s only the beginning.

Collecting forms was all done online and I collected so many that my computer auto saved my name, annual income, address and all that....

Then started the real thing...queuing up for colleges with a scrapped knee, with the guys in the colleges staring up you skirt...eugh!!! It almost became second nature to run through your battery of attestations everyday and sort them out according to the colleges’ demands...and man, what demands! Some wanted my father’s income certificate, some wanted my class VIII mark sheet and some my XI-XII mark sheets, which happen to be the best guarded secrets of my life.

The sun was at its hottest and the pseudo intellectuals studying in the colleges made it even worse with their smart ass presence around which couldn’t just stop bossing on little kids like us!

Delhi was a different story altogether...I dined out, I shopped, I played around with the kids and managed to take an exam somewhere in between! Ah yes, I also had a glass of apple martini and a sip of chocolate martini and realized that I am not made for alcohol...Gah! every sip seemed to be a gulp of fire which burnt my throat down!

If the forms were such ordeals, imagine what the tests were like...I, with almost all of the 18 year old population of the universe, sat through two hours writing pseudo essays, reading weird poetry, chewing our pens and then exalting at the end of the ordeal...

I waddled through knee deep water to get to one college only to be house arrested for three hours before we could take the test! And after the test I walked through stretches of dirty rain water with my trousers pulled up in an uncouth manner with the world’s trash hitting against my legs...I still cant bring myself to relate that walk down College Street without puking!

It finally ended yesterday...with some morbid poetry, preachy essays and deadly short notes!!...

And now is the time to wait for the judgments...whether you took your ordeals well, whether you will have to take the ordeals again and whether you have to keep writing sad stuff on your blog or write something which, for a change, will talk of a brand new beginning...and it is this wait, which is killing!

Thursday, June 7, 2007

Last night I saw those shreds again-
Weightless, they kept floating
In shades of blue, black and green.
They kissed my eyes and sketched dreams never seen before.
We walked down the lanes as the clouds began to pour.
Our wet fingers touched and we saw our world through them-
Each new sun kissed the petals of a flower unnamed,
Every bird sang in tongues unknown.
We sat there watching the sun set-
Into our steaming cups of coffee.
We set our paper boats free-
In the gurgling sea-
Each guarded with a wish, a silent prayer-
Hoping for endless moments to share.
The shreds fast disappeared with the moon,
And I wished for them to be back soon.
For, if dreams really do come true,
I promise to dream of you.....

P.S: this one is doesn't have a you could suggest....

Tuesday, June 5, 2007


Your Love Song Is

Thankyou by Dido

"And I want to thank you for giving me
The best day of my life
Oh, just to be with you is having
The best day of my life."

It's all good, as long as you're in love.

i sure am getting mushy....

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

it's one of those times when you finally throw away the nice star studded veil off your eyes and see all your whites turn to blacks......
all your strengths turning weak....
all that you called "class" turning cheesy.....
it's time when things around you make you feel sick in the stomach and you feel like throwing up,but in vain....
it's time when that sick dormant volcano in you finally decides to erupt and leaves behind nothing but some loose words which you try and put together to make sense....
these are those words i found sticking out of the gooey mess that came out...and i am still trying to make sense....
dont bother if you can't because i still don't.....

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Monday, May 21, 2007

So it’s official...I’m an “ex” now.

That huge cream coloured gate won’t allow me in now, that chair on the right in the fifth row won’t have me anymore.

The stone chips on the floor refuse to listen to the tic-tac of my ballerinas anymore.

That staircase to the library won’t let me sit there anymore.

That thick blue Hercule Poirot on the third shelf won’t feel my fingers through its pages anymore.

The musty smell of the Times World Almanac won’t flood my senses before a quiz anymore....

But two legs hurry through the cream gate. A red bag still finds its place near the leg of that chair. A pair of hurried ballerinas pace over the stone-chipped floor. Tears of a pony tailed girl still stain the blue collar of her friend sitting on the sixth step of the stairs. A bespectacled teenager discovers the joy and magic of Hercule Poirot, runs her finger over the magical print. Three heads huddle up to read through the almanac.......

Tears in my eyes, smile on my lips, I know I’m there somewhere devouring that smell....still.

Saturday, May 19, 2007

yes,i am smiling.....
got reasons....
results aint that good by people's standards...but i am happy....
that's all i could do without giving my selections.....
i smile....and hope i can keep doing that for a long time now....

Friday, May 18, 2007

it's's tomorrow!!!
goodbye,cruel world...

this is not a post...

i really dont know what to write about,but i want to write anyway.
i think i have issues but dont really feel like writing about them....(there are too many)
i am tired of the way people make big deals out of nothing.
i am just so pissed with this principal of this college which is famous for its sky high cut offs..(the dude wrote an article called "marks are not the right yardsticks"..or some bullshit...!!)
i mean,how hippocritical can they get??
we are basically very narrow minded people who measure life in terms of some lousy numbers some lousy people decide to scrawl on our answer sheets...
i know i dont make sense....guess i am not supposed to.
i am still groggy with sleep and still tormented by the dreams i see...
its getting too much now...
i might have all the right to waste my time...but not yours.
so just close the window and forgive this piece as just another bullshit post by a teenage scatterbrain!!...

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

i'm so scared...
the results maybe out anyday now and i have managed to forget how bad it really was.
i am scared that i might get used to failure....maybe when i see my name on none of the college rolls,i will just feel bad and shed a i always do....
and i am scared that i will get used to a life like that,scared that i will just stand and watch while the entire world zooms past.
i am scared of stagnation...of thoughts,of words,of ambitions.
i am scared of jadedness...of life.
sometimes,i wish all this would end.....and drown into a red pool of oblivion.
just like that.

Friday, May 11, 2007

Here’s a story which is a part of me-

Of people who let me be who I want to be.

It was one evening we decided to talk-

Of old laughs and old tears,

Of times gone by and old peers.

She sat pretty with her crimson gown-

Flashing a smile which pulls you up when you’re down.

Poised she is but never calm-

Always moving to a tune or lisping a hum.

Another sat confused brushing her hair-

Saying words of concern and care.

She hides it well, but it manages to escape-

The secret tear which nurses her heartbreak.

Nineteen candles glowed bright and clear-

Her mind disturbed at the thoughts of a future so near.

The mind is in a daze and her heart flutters like a dove-

We all know, my dear, you are so deep in love.

Another sat smiling and blushing next to me-

Fussing over food and refusing her tea.

A lady of words and a lady of rhymes-

A loving reminder of all our happy times.

All that said, there still remains one-

Who talks incessantly out of her turn.

Tries hard to keep her bonds well-

But somewhere down the line, she fears she might fail.

The night grew older and we knew it was time-

We hugged and smiled our parting smiles.

We left back promises of reliving these times with each other.

‘Coz we all know that,no matter how tough the going gets,

“It’s always better when we’re together”.....

P.S:this is lousy poetry....but the 5 people concerned know it's the feeling which is overwhelming and heart-warming

Wednesday, May 9, 2007

"aamar mukti aaloy aaloy ei akashe...
aamar mukti dhulae dhulae ghashe ghashe..."
you gave me the words,you gave me the tunes-
brought me images of far flung mountains and sand dunes...
gave me a vent,
gave me a muse....
painted my vision with a myriad hues.....

Monday, May 7, 2007


Some time back, this word would bring to me this image of a “secure” future. I remember ma’s sigh of relief when I told her that I wanted to do law...she was happy I finally acquired this thing called “ambition”....

January came and went...and I sat for this exam after studying for 2 days with a weak liver just outta jaundice. I thought I aced it but I didn’t. Didn’t even reach the dreadfully high cutoff.....

I guess that was the day I ran to the nearest window and threw my “ambition” outta it...into the grey oblivion of the city’s concrete skyline. Back came my old “ambition”-I really wanted to write. So the life of a journalist appeared so “Yeah!! That’s it!!”-ish. Legal ambitions fizzled out like gas from a soft drink can and I had a new “ambition”....(To god’s grace, I still do)

Dad said something about “job security”. What he doesn’t understand is that he never had a daughter who was meant for “secure” things...she was this girl who wanted to fly, and still does. She is this girl who has always searched for the meaning of the voices that go on inside her little head, always looked for the face behind the unknown call which always eluded her....the call of the future, the call of words...the call of rhyme and metre...

After 18 long years she sees the blurry outlines of those faces which called.....and it’s time she answers them......

It’s time she washes the dirt off her wings and flies off....

"Well I guess that you probably know by now
I was one who wanted to fly
I wanted to ride on that arrow of fire right up into heaven
And I wanted to go for every man
Every child, every mother of children
I wanted to carry the dreams of all people right up to the stars....."

Thursday, May 3, 2007

May be the song that summer sings
May be the chill that autumn brings
May be a hundred different things
Within the measure of a day

May be the beauty or the beast
May be the famine or the feast
May turn each day into a heaven or a hell
She may be the mirror of my dreams
The smile reflected in a stream
She may not be what she may seem
Inside her shell"

words have never felt this good before....
music never sounded this good before.....
my favourite movie never made me feel this good before....

Saturday, April 28, 2007

-“let’s elope”
-“ya let’s”
-“we will fly away to the hills where no one will know us”
-“and what will we do?”
-“I can work as a cook in some joint and play the guitar with some band at night”
-“I can work in some shop in the mall or maybe a bookstore and teach little kids”
-“...and we'll get a small cottage on top of a hill...”
-“with a small garden...”
-“we will wake up to see the sunrise together...”
-“so when are we leaving?”
-“tonight 1:30 I’ll get a helicopter. Will pick u up from your house. Pack your bags and be ready”
-“yes...sing me a song beneath the window and I will be there”
-“ya I’ll whistle Chiquitita....and you slip out quietly”
-“and by morning we'll be dropped off and there onwards it’s just us
-“and the house?? You know where the keys are? I know!”
-“it’s in the basement of that house which resonates with violin n piano strains..... The one below the dusty road...the wooden grey house”
-“oh achha..i know that one”
-“and we will meet Austin Plant the old English architect who lives down that road some evening over cakes”
-“his wife bakes lovely ones”
-“and then we will walk back...hand in hand.... as our breaths will draw white frozen patterns on our faces”
-“at nights you will stitch our socks n coats because they will be torn of use and we won’t have money to buy new ones. Carry lots of warm clothes and an umbrella
you have asthma in the take precautions”
-“Got to go now. Got tons of packing to do. I will wait-don’t be late”.....

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Shaadi no.1, they’re calling it. Thousands of people queuing up just to catch a glimpse of a hair band flaunting six footer set out to sweep a doe eyed beauty (with her ever plastic smile) off her feet. The entire country has, by now, memorized the color of the gem of the ring adorning the little finger of the aforesaid bride’s right hand or maybe the verses which open the invites contained in their gilded booklets.
Lights adorn the entire Bandra scheme, crackers light up the Mumbai sky as the country’s biggest box office moolah rakers dance their wits away within the confines of heavily guarded walls.
Cut to Park View Apartments, Borivali. An eerie gloom shrouds the posh building occasionally interrupted by the sound of tears shed in fond remembrance of a twenty six year old architecture student. An internet networking site floods with sympathies and prayers as the country’s press go berserk trying to capture the aforementioned groom drooling over his bride who, by the nation’s verdict, is “worth it”.
The nation feasts its eyes on the exclusive pictures of this million dollar wedding splashed throughout the papers while a narrow column in some remote corner of the paper struggles for attention to let the world know of a brilliant and young life cut short by a random bullet.
“India Shining”, they say. It sure is.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

love just is...

"love just is...whatever it may be,

love just and me..."

na it aint that easy really.i mean its fine as long as "i love you,you love me.we are a happy family."
but what if...i love you and you dont love me?or the other way round?what happens to the happy family?
does it sink into the tears we dont tire shedding...or does it hammer the head which has muted voices playing in it all day?
do we wait?or do we "make" the other one fall in love?
FALL in love...that's the word.someone has to fall and not be pushed....i guess that's the way it is...
love???...what exactly is that?
security?dependance?sex?fluttering eyelashes?snogging at CCD?kissing under an umbrella at lake?....remaining awake through the night with your eyes wide open...thanks to the litres of coffee in you?...what is it exactly??
and yes,i thank HIM for this definition....HIM...the band and not my guy,your guy or any guy for that matter....

"love's the funeral of hearts,

an ode to cruelty-
when angels cry blood;
and flowers of evil are in bloom"

Saturday, April 7, 2007

for the name's sake....

So I finally managed to catch The Namesake, and to put it in a word, I was disappointed. It was always happens to me-books made into films always fail to live up to my expectations. When you read the book, you tend to make mental sketches of the characters, situations and emotions. But when you see someone else’s imagination take shape on the giant screen in front of you, it is disappointing to see them not match up to your expectations. Maybe this is a wrong approach to watching movies, but that’s the way it is, for me.

Firstly, for me, small details go a long way in making a film impactful .In the beginning shots, the camera rolls over the city roads and pans onto a small road divider sign reading, “The Telegraph. Unputdownable”.The book is set in 1968 and since the film maker does not mention the period of the film, I presume she sticks to the book. The Telegraph began to use the aforesaid catch line only in the last few years.

The trams have been shown with advertisements of ATMs hollering across their tin bodies in the trip the family makes to Calcutta in 1982.To the best of my knowledge, the city saw its first ATM bank around the year 1999.

During Gogol’s marriage to Moushumi, Ashima recalls her wedding to Ashoke when she remembers herself reciting Daffodils till the end but in the beginning of the film, she is cut short in her recitation by her father-in –law-to be, who recites the concluding lines himself.

The make-up. With all the orange and white flowers adorning her hair and the kilos of kohl in her eyes, Tabu ends up looking more like a Bharatnatyam dancer than a literature student that she’s supposed to be. And the Alta on her hands-it is so weird and one of the biggest misconceptions people have about Bengalis. For once and for all people, Bengali women do not wear it on their hands-be it 1968 or 2007.

Moreover, the make up fails to maintain the continuity of Tabu’s age. She looks old with graying hair in the Taj Mahal trip but scenes later, she looks like a newly wed with her parting smeared with generous doses of vermillion and jet black hair when she receives the news of Ashoke’s death.

I am not being cynical but just pointing out the flaws which caught my eye. I’m no stalwart at judging movies by their technicalities and I lack the qualifications to do so. But as an average movie goer, these were the things which kind of jarred my viewing.

Not everything about the movie is bad. There were quite a few scenes which were warm and touching.

When Gogol returns from Cleveland which his head shorn, the bonding shown between Ashima and her children is a major tear jerker and goes on to say a thousand words without uttering a syllable.

The scene where Gogol’s head is being shaved with the loud punk rock playing in the background is a beautiful scene highlighting the in your face contrast of emotions.

The visuals of the Howrah Bridge and the Brooklyn bridge bring out the beauty in the hackneyed things of our daily lives.

The scene with the Saraswati idol hauled and being carried in the rickshaw is beautifully shot. The contrasts in the lovemaking scenes of Ashoke-Ashima and Gogol-Maxine have been brought out very subtly without being too grotesque and flesh flaunting. The difference between love and lust has been beautifully brought out....

The concluding scene where Gogol and Ashoke walk down the boulders is beautiful and touching....the words (penned by Jhumpa Lahiri) are equally warm.....

“Will you remember this day,Gogol..try to remember it always...remember that you and I made this journey ,that we went together to a place where there was nowhere left to go.....”

Monday, March 19, 2007

The city basked in the mild yellow of the December sun-

Had a story to tell with each of its shady turn.

We walked hand in hand-through the sleepy lanes,

As the sun drew patterns of love down our backs-

We talked of our lives-their whites and blacks.

We painted the grey town with the bloody red of our hearts,

We saw our faces glow with the burnt red ecstasy-

We set forth the beginning of our blue fantasy.

The day turned violet and the maroon hour turned wet-

We painted the town back to its grey,

So that the world wouldn’t know of the unnamed hour-

When our souls met.

The last verse...

Hours of walking and my legs are far from tired-

The darkness veils the shy bride’s heart-a shroud to all the desires.

I walk on towards the land of hollow humanity –

But halt, is that you I see?

Is that the blood of my smiles that stain your lips?

Was that my soul which you just tore into bits?

But much before you were here, I was gone-

Into the land which kisses no dawn.

Much before your sole trampled my tears,

I had bid a cold farewell to my old fears.

Here I was, killing myself within me-

Hiding the rotting corpse in a dusty corner

Which you’ll never see.

So while you were busy gathering your ammunition,

I had already put an end to the endless hours of procrastination.

So tell me, do you see the cold grave-

Lined with dusty tombstones and jaded epitaphs?

Do you read what they speak of-

Of incomplete Marijuana dreams and forgotten paragraphs?

Look into my eyes; tell me what you see-

Do you see broken shards of a mirror-

Each telling a tale unsaid?

Or do you see the remnants of a soul which you decided to trade?

I see you rejoice at having gagged my smiles,

The joy of tasting my blood shines in your frozen eye.

But be not fooled; believe not what will never be

Because when death came, the only one by me, was me.

Saturday, March 17, 2007

love to hate you....

I won’t begin off with any courtesy because courtesy’s not meant for b**ta*ds like you. I always thought I could never completely hate a person, always thought that a person cant be completely bad. But thank God, I met you else I would’ve suffered this misconception throughout my life.

You were the worst thing to have had happened to me. If I have spoken to you nicely and been polite and all, God! I’m so sorry for that today. I’m ashamed I ever knew you; I hate myself for being nice to you and feel stupid to have paid heed to your croc tears and other equivalent emotional bullshit.

I know all this doesn’t matter to you ‘coz you are inhumanly shameless. The jerk that you are, you will never realize the futility of your existence...ummm, on second thoughts, it’s good that you exist-it’s for people like you that Hell is still functional. God, I cant even think of a suitable insult for you-you are the biggest insult to yourself...your existence bears a testimony to the biggest bane on my life and reeks of the decaying humanity within you.

If you’ve ever been hurt, good...may it get multiplied by a zillion times. I’ve never prayed for someone’s bad, but I will do that today. May you be unhappy, may all the people who you love, leave you. May you die a loner-may you rot in hell. So much said, I still don’t think I’ve cursed you enough. You’re just a cold blooded sick ba**ar* and you deserve nothing but swears...may a smile never appear on that shitface you possess. I hate myself for being a friend to you, hate myself for standing by you, hate myself for praying for you, but way above any hatred is the one I have for you, for being what you are-a super sucker!

I know you’re not gonna read this...I’m happy you don’t read my blog (hopefully!) ‘Coz I don’t want your fucking shadow anywhere near anything concerning me and my existence...FUCK YOU!!


P.S: Rijoy, Surjo, Shantanu-since you three have a knack of misunderstanding me, let me tell you this aint for any of you.... (If you’re reading, that is)

of more and more bloodshed and bullets.... sure does weird things to you. It makes you jump at the prospect of getting over with your dreaded ISCs and then it snubs you down with the “indefinite postponement” of your last paper.

I’m not here to talk about whether a chemical plant can turn around the state’s fortune and nor am I here to talk about who’s right and who’s not. I’m here to say what I think and if you don’t agree, I don’t really mind.

The Bengalis have spent decades sipping tea over the day’s edition of Anand Bazar Patrika and cribbing, “Na e rajye aar kissu hobe na.” Well, the years of procrastination did help, I guess. The state began to be considered to be the “next big thing” with the corporate biggies taking interest. But wait up, the story’s far from over. There goes the “Bangali bhodrolok” sighing over his ABP again-“kono mane hoe, etogulo manusher foshol!” Halt. Think. So do you want to see the state “debhelaap” or do you want the farmers to thrive? Whatever you decide, just don’t crib. The years of endless cribbing, decades of undecided whims has got us nowhere, really. And for the “humane” folks who think we need both –agriculture and development-I guess you could voluntarily give up your own piece if land for the factories, eh? Hurts, doesn’t it? Well, it always does, when the load is on your ass.

I’m not supporting any party. What happened in Nandigram was bad, inhuman and downright heinous. But let’s not play the blame game out here. The police did try tear gas and rubber bullets on the people who decided not to yield, and then came the showering of stones which lead to lathicharge and then, bullets. What I don’t understand is, when you see bullets coming, why don’t you stop being adamant? You wanted to be brave and pay with your lives, and you did. It was a grievous moment, absolutely. Bloodshed has never helped and it never will. The government WAS wrong in doing this.

But then again, our opposition aint a group of the most intelligent and sensible people either. So what do you think they do? Call a “bandh” of course!...and that too when the students are racking their brains for their board exams. It is sad that our “opojeeshaan” is uneducated enough to not know the difference between CBSE, ISC and HS. They’re this bunch of selfish people who want the slightest excuse to demand the usual-“Buddho babur istofa”. Fine, point taken. But who replaces him? A certain Miss Banerjee who looks around for excuses for fainting on account of “chest pain”? Oh, please! I mean, if you know you have a weak heart, then why go into all that shouting in the first place? It’s still a mystery how she manages to not lose an ounce after weeks of “fasting”. All they can do, is call bandhs and beat the pulp out of people and answer bloodshed with bloodshed, and commit a wrong to rectify a wrong. And you think THEY will make a great government?...umm, not really.

All India exams being postponed, futures being played “chheeni meeni” with. And after all this, you blame the youth for leaving the state for greener pastures and for not joining politics! You can’t really blame them. Can you? Look at the impression you people have on us! “You have to be in the system, to change my system”, you may say. But life, my dear friend, aint a scene outta RDB.

College campuses see millions of dreams take shape everyday...dreams of change...dreams of an improvement...dreams of a utopia...but where do they go? They get buried under the shouts, shrouded by the banners and trampled under the spiky boots of the very system they want to change.

What the government needs is a spine. It needs logic and rationality. What it needs is the youth. We’ve had enough of pseudo people adorning the TV screens with their demands, enough of old hags promising to bring better days to the state when their own days are few. A bandh is supposed to be a weapon of silent protest, and not an extended weekend. All the state needs to do is WORK and prove a point with its work ONLY, because years of shouting lungs out haven’t made a difference and it never will. For all you know, each new morning may still herald a new utterance of, “Na e rajye aar kissu hobe na.”....

Tuesday, February 20, 2007


"Now I see you standing

With brown leaves falling around

And snow in your hair

Now you're smiling out the window

Of that crummy hotel

Over Washington Square

Our breath comes out white clouds

Mingles and hangs in the air

Speaking strictly for me

We both could have died then and there...”

o.k...I am outta school...given my speech, cut my farewell cake....and now? Now what?....

I go back to where I started from 15 years back...unsure of the steps I take, don’t know who’s gonna be the next person I can call a friend....I know you’ve told me we will keep in touch, but can we live those moments again?...that run down the corridor? The hug after the tears? The salsa in front of the loo...well , I will miss you and I will miss me....because I am what you all made me, and when you leave, you take a piece of me with you....

I know I have hurt you and you hurt me back....I am sorry I should have known that you “don’t fight fire with fire; you douse it with water.....”I could have used my tears, I could’ve said sorry, I could’ve ran to you and said that I’m never gonna do it again...I know you were ready to forget but I wasn’t...I was wrong. and I realize that me, I do...but that doesn’t mean, I want to get back or anything of that sort...I know no one understands but I know you do and I know you just too well..... and I hope, I am not mistaken this time....I know you’re sorry and I know you know that I’m sorry too....but the funny part is that that’s all we can do...just know!!!

Just know that I’m there like I promised to be but did not stand by at times...I’m there when life’s gonna laugh at us again....and I’ll cry with you like I always have....

Just know that I’ll pray so that your prayers are all answered ....I’ll be happy just because you’re happy....and just don’t think I don’t care....because I do...a f*c***g lot!!!....

You will change, I will change but the memories will die, I will die but our times won’t....should I be sorry. Or should I be not...I know you couldn’t have taken it....

Never meant things to be this way...but then again, my life’s always been like this....crapped up!!!

All the best to all of you I have written about...I wish you happiness...and that’s it.....

“Now you're telling me

You're not nostalgic

Then give me another word for it

You who are so good with words

And at keeping things vague

Because I need some of that vagueness now

It's all come back too clearly

Yes I loved you dearly

And if you're offering me diamonds and rust

I've already paid...."

Friday, January 26, 2007

just another scribble

there are times when life and hell become synonymous...the time is now!!
i hate every bit of it...
i hate losing people,
i hate crying my nights out,
i hate to break stuff at school,
i hate to be unmindful.....
i hate to try and understand when i need to be understood...
i hate to hope that someday i will be heard....
i hate to choose between the most important people in my life....
i hate to miss my cellphone....
i hate to swallow food when my throat has a lump of sorrow forming deep within....
i hate to give fake smiles to the world...
i hate to say "it's ok" when nothing is.....
i hate my life.....
i hate the people who have given me this kinda life......
i hate it...
i hate it all.....
but i really love you .......

Saturday, January 20, 2007


The eagle soars up to the murky sky-

The winds whisper of times gone by.

The times which had you and me-

The times our hearts fluttered like a caged bird set free.

You gave me a mouthful of sky-

I gave you a fistful of life.

You brought me sunshine in the rains-

I gave you paper boats sailing down the waterlogged lanes.

We held hands as the swing soared high,

We watched silently as times passed by.

We exchanged letters, some secret glances too-

Happily unaware that our days together were numbered few.

We built a house of cards on shores of a silvery sea,

Our days were washed with colours of glee.

“Happily ever after” we thought-

But that was not to be.

A storm passed over our dreamy shore-

Blowing in sands of distrust into our hearts;

A love decayed through its core-

Nothing left to do, nothing left to say anymore.

My wrist cries crimson tears of pain-

Memories bringing in smiles gone pale.

Promises drowned themselves in the red reeking river-

An abrupt end to a tale meant to last forever....

a mouthful of silence

Have you ever felt a knife cutting down your back?

Ever felt like a rotting corpse on a haystack?

Ever wondered what it feels when happiness tastes stale?

Ever lost your voice when all you wanted to do was wail?

I stand here today-

A defeated and beaten Destiny’s prey.

My dry eyes are wide awake-

Disgusted of all it has seen:

Rotting love, estranged bonds, bleeding wrists-

Ah! What a life it has been.

Lone, solitary and beaten out of shape-

The heart fails to keep further faith.

People meant the world, and now they mean a naught-

No one recalls those promises they happily forgot.

Who keeps count, I ask, of what I attained and lost?

Ever felt the insatiable thirst for your own tears?

Ever been a dumb witness to the realization of all your fears?

Ever thought that there might be no future, after all?

Ever lead a life-engulfed with shadows of past-

Splattered all over your heart’s walls?

Bland joys, stale smiles-

The mirage of life-a road which beguiles.

In some hidden alley of the heart,

Amidst some forgotten pile,

A knell tolls and a jackal shrieks-

Through the darkness, a light so bleak.

I raise my hand, clinging on to hope-

Refusing to let go.

So much pain in such little time-

With small joys scattered here and there.

Maybe it’s time now to bid adieu-

Too late to judge whether it is wrong or fair!

So slit my wrist and put on the crown of thorns-

Close your eyes, I will be gone…

a lady out of a whirlwind

my school mag article this year....

I’m a sulk, and a great one at that. But then again, there have been moments randomly thrown up by life which has forced me to believe that, maybe, life ain’t that bad either.

“I caught a fleeting glimpse
Out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look but it was gone
I cannot put my finger on it now
The child is grown,
The dream is gone...”

31st January 2006.Our investiture day. We had to march around a field before the announcement was made, and if walking like a robot with a fluttering stomach and a rising pulse qualifies as marching, I did a good job. The drum roll stopped-and there I was, ready to faint any second and contemplating running away from the field. The teacher walked towards the mic-I prayed so that the ground would open up and I could fall into it. “The last year’s Head Girl-Swati Arora will be handing over duties to the new Head Girl….”-I was sweating in my blazer and the entire school building was buzzing with murmurs-“…Bedatri Datta Choudhury.” Then there was silence and the voice inside my head went, “what? Come again!”-I stood there with an unladylike stare-someone pushed me and I marched towards Swati with the entire school cheering (Or was I running?).

Swati passed me the school flag and grinned. “God Swati! This is heavy!” I said. She smiled back and said something I’ll remember all my life-“well, so is your responsibility.” The following moments were all very blurry with my liver and stomach doing a cute little jig within me.

Moments. They can be the happiest ones and yet make you cry.

Since then it’s been a roller coaster ride - balanced motley of ups and downs.

This little piece of metal on my collar has taught me that life is not easy-there will always be people who won’t listen to you, friends who will desert you at crucial junctures, people who will make you believe that you are undeserving, but at the end of it all, you got to take it all in your stride and walk on, with your head held high.

There have been times when I’ve faltered but this responsibility has made me realize that when you have hundreds of girls aspiring to be where you are, you really can’t afford to go wrong. I think I’ve become a lot more patient and tolerant; more disciplined –rarely overslept and never lost a thing of importance, more conscious- I stopped dancing and singing down the corridors, pinned my hair and, yes, sat with legs crossed and skirt perfectly in place and definitely more responsible-being answerable for hundreds of little imps can be nerve wracking! I’ve come to realize that there is never a wrong time to do the right thing and that it is never wrong to dream, because some dreams do come true. All in all, it made a lady out of the whirlwind I was.

I’d like to thank my Principal and all the teachers who thought me to be capable and helped me through the changes my life was going through. I hope I haven’t let them down.

My heartfelt apologies to my friends for missing lunches with them (because of school work), the non-teaching staff of the school for bothering them with irrational demands and all the people to whom I’ve come across as rude or unkind. Last but not the least, my friends who deserted me when I needed them the most. Thank you. I am a stronger person now.

Almost a year gone by, and yet it seems like a blink of an eye. So many unrealized dreams, so many words unsaid, so many smiles yet to be smiled and so many tears yet to be shed. My mother tells me that we meet to depart and depart to meet. But I live to hope-that all the people I meet in the future are going to be like the ones I met here, under the shelter of this wonderful school.

Thank you GDB for being the most important part of my growing up...

“ What shall we use

To fill the empty spaces
Where we used to talk?
How shall I fill
The final places?
How should I complete the wall...”