-“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!”
-“where?”
-“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 cold...so take precautions”
-“Got to go now. Got tons of packing to do. I will wait-don’t be late”.....

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.

love just is...

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

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.....”

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.

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!!

-Bedatri

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....

Life...it 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.”....

nostalgia....*sniff*

"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 ,umm....no. 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 today...trust 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 wont...you 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...."

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 .......

incomplete

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....