On your Birthday

Happy Birthday...
I wish you were here today- to see what a big deal politicians make out of this day,and to tell me how it feels to lose something for which one has had to strive all his life.
I need to know how one can write poems after losing his son, I want to know how it feels to see people making a God out of yourself.I would like to see what you would have created today when the blood being spilt is as red as the flag which veils the murderers.
I wish you were here today.

tomar ashon shunyo aji,hey bir purno koro
oije dekhi boshundhora kaplo thoro thoro.

update

the last few days have been very fulfilling.it feels good to do something instead of just lazing around at home.there was this one day when i took a bus to work-two girls who would be around 17 sat next to me and were discussing about SRK and the Knight Riders.i wish i remembered more of the conversation-it was hilarious!then of course i had my first byline,and as Brinda says, "there's nothing like a good byline".it's been tiring to run around the city in this heat but it was a weird kind of fatigue which made you feel good...
i went to school yesterday...that place fills me up with life each time i go.but it's not like it used to be.the girls are turning rowdier and absolutely crass.plus,there have been a lot of modifications to the building.it's true that change is the only thing constant in life,but i had hoped that this time the change would be towards the better.

tired

my first day of work.
phew.
i'm tired.
somebody give me a head massage,else i'll die....
going,going,going.....
gone

you and i

when we sat looking at the fan today and listening to that new song,i quite enjoyed the silence between us.it wasn't like those electronic silences we face over the telephone at the dead of night-in an alien city.this silence was like us-breathing,growing and wrapping us in a spell under which no word survived.
and finally when you said that we need to talk,i wanted to run to you and tell you that there's no need anymore.but then,i didn't run because i was there-right next to you,passing on my stories to you through my fingers.and i watched you turn my prosaic stories into songs with quaint tunes...
i watched,i moved and i saw-but never spoke.because you know what,this silence will keep us alive,and we'll be fine without those words which do very little except creating noise.we'll do fine with your quaint little tunes and my inane stories.
and thank you for days like today...
days which bring sunshine in days of thunder.

scribble from the back of a question paper

was done with it and didnt have anything else to write.so this is what i decided to do after completing a doodle :)
and yes,as a disclaimer,it's lousy and childish...

nascent tears,melted smiles.
lost letters,sepia eyes.
dreams telling you never to dream again-
never to tread upon those
half-eaten memories
of two lives walking side by side.
and yet,like an idiot who never learns,i cry every night.

p.s:i'm home :D

you know what,your stupidity and utter mindlessness have begun to tick me off..you used to make sense but it seems that you have happily bid that good habit goodbye.you become different people at different times...i mean,dude are you crazy?
really,i mean it in the clinical sort of way.need help?
i am scared for you,i really am.i maybe pissed with you most of the time but i am worried.very worried.are you ok?
will you be ok?
oh damn why the fuck should i care?
i need to get you out of my system.ASAP.

Developments

I have begun to hate escapists...people who dont have the balls to face life.they disgust me.we have started fighting a lot but we will pull through it all.tokai and i are sharing a room and we start dancing to 'we like to move it' at 2 am!
3 out of the 5 ordeals are over,and they have been good enough.
And,i met Raghu Rai today *drools*,so life's not all bad.

leaving...

I've never felt this scared of leaving before.it's not really fright,but this sense of lingering discomfort.maybe because i have exams to take once I'm back there,but that's not the whole of it...there's more to it.and the worst part is that i can't fathom what it really is.
i am scared of planes because they crash.it would be unpleasant to die knowing that someone you really like,hates you.i can't die with so many questions left unanswered.
questions populate my head and they,somehow,lose their way in search of answers...into the nothingness the plane floats in.
i don't want to leave...not this time.

Untitled

These days have been misty-
Every naked truth had foggy dresses to wear.
They pranced around the hidden alleys of the mind,
Wearing blue roses in their hair.
It was a foggy night,
And the radio played sad songs.
I ran my fingers trough the album,
And saw sepia eyes talking of joys yet unborn.
A beaten grey Ambassador screeched to a halt somewhere,
The headlight gleam pierced through the fingers of night-
It twisted and turned in the long necked refuge of the red wine.
It moved and it churned till it could churn no more-
The wine painted designs of love on the white marble floor.
I think I wrote my last wish on the shards of glass with cigarette smoke,
Before I walked out into the embrace of the night, and-
Heard the whisky coloured snores of the city folk.
I walked on and I saw those dresses being shed,
All the truths, now, danced around naked-
Naked, in my head.

For Dida..

i went visiting my grandma yesterday-my Ma's Ma.she looked better than the last time i saw her (touch wood!)
considering that she always lived faraway,i never really got very close to her.but there were times when i went there and went running out into the "uthon" and invariably ran into ant hills.Dida always used to put "choon" over my feet as an antidote for the ant stings.
she was this woman who ran around that huge L-shaped house-managing the kitchen,looking after the "uthon" and "pukur" and attending to Ranga (my grand aunt) and Aku (my grand dad).Dida always brimmed with energy...so much so that she managed to dislocate her hip joint twice and fracture her leg!
but all that changed when Aku passed away.within days of his death,she became recluse-like...reading spiritual books and centering her day around "pujo".with Aku,my Dida died-she became this another person who was nothing like my Dida-she chopped off her waist length hair and ceased to be the Dida i knew-the huge bindi was gone,her hair parting looked bare without the streak of red.she looked pale in her white saris.
yesterday,when we sat chatting over our cups of tea,she spoke of Aku.she didn't cry but i knew she missed him.I knew this was what they call "love".here was this woman-who was born much before St. Valentine became a celebrity,before white teddy bears holding red hearts became famous and even before love letters became an institution in themselves-who felt lost without her husband,even years after his death.she made me read his letters (he was in the army,and had been transferred to Kashmir and Burma a lot of times)-none of them qualified as "mush".he asked her of their children's health,whether the house was been properly looked after,whether she needed money and other such mundane things.so what was it that "drove" this love?i can't say...probably because i have been born to these times.
it's been 3 years since Aku and 10 years since Ranga left us...that huge house,with just 2 people living inside, looks scary now...except the little space where my Dida sits in silence and reads,sews and,perhaps,cries.the house has remained strong-witnessing births and deaths.it has been my Dida's haven.it was this house she came into as a child bride,it was this house she breathed life into and,maybe,this is the house that will be handed over to promoters after she,too,is gone.
as i left,she hugged me and i,for some queer reason,cried.i cried as i silently prayed to Dida to be there the next time i come down.she doesn't have to be active,she doesn't have to run around,she just needs to be there...she just has to be there.

Tagged

A is for Amnesia. Of the selective kind. So that I can forget all the shit life has thrown up at me.

B is for my name-Bedatri. I hated it as a kid, but love it now for being one of its kind. And Blue. The colour.

C is for Citrus. The smell. Especially when it comes from soaps. And for Calcutta and Courage-two things I shall try and stick to unto death.

D is for “Duh” and “Dodo”-two words which punctuate my sentences.

E is for Eggs. In any form-poached, fried, scrambled, with cheese, without cheese, omlette....

F is for Finding money in some trousers' pocket when you’re broke, and for Faith. In yourself.

G is for Gariahat...the pavement libraries, Iceberg rolls, cheap clothes and cheaper jewellery...

H is for “Him”...God and “him”...the two most important people in my life.

I is for Irish Coffee, Inshallah and Ice creams...the first because I love the cream topping, the second because the word exudes hope and the third because they are man’s greatest creation after safety pins.

J is for Jealousy. The green monster strikes me anytime, anywhere.

K is for Kitsch Art.Specially when they’re on tees :)

L is for Love and Lollypops...one cant live his youth without the first and childhood without the second.

M is for Maach and Mishti...in any shape, form or colour. And Momos...steamed.

N is for the “New” smell-the smell of new things-new books, clothes, houses or rains. And the not so new New Market.

O is for Oshos. Specifically from Janpath (the 90 bucks ones with flat straps)

P is for Phuchka, Park Street and Pandara Road

Q is for Quirks...these make people worth loving.

R is for Rains.they do something to me.

S is for School and its insanity.

T is for Tea. Darjeeling with a dash of lemon, 1 teaspoon sugar and no milk...Heaven!

U is for Unidentifiable...there are times I wish to know no one and to be known by none.

V is for Violet. The colour. And Violins in a rainy night and funerals.

W is for “What re?”...something Delhi has done to my vocabulary and I love saying.

X is for the kisses in XOXO,the red marks which plagued me through school and for mystery.

Y is for Yes...it’s amazing what all this little word can express!

Z is for Zeeshan rolls and Biryani...Slurp!

I tag Fishy,Pongy Papaya,Neel,The Mad Girl and Onnesha.

And thanks to Mandy for tagging me.