Tears n' Rain

Lost confessions of someone unknown

2011-12-17T01:32:00.004+05:30

Please don’t mind the tape recorder; it is just for my reference. Look here I turn it off. No wires and modern technology. Let’s just talk like two people who are eager to know each other. You tell me whatever you feel like, and I will do the same. No questions, no answers.

"Yes, no questions, no answers. I am not answerable to anyone, am I? I am not. I will not be answerable to anyone. But what is your name?"

Name. My name is let me think. It can be Rajesh. Or Ratan. Maybe even Ravi. No not Ravi. I know a person named Ravi. Me and Ravi were in university together in our electives of Journalism. Last I heard he is in Delhi, or Faridabad, maybe Delhi. So maybe people will confuse me with him. Hence, my alias will be lost. Then what is the point of alias.

"Dear, you are new to this aren’t you? You want me to relax you a bit. You know maybe these breasts have sagged a bit, but still this bosom holds a lot of warmth for young blood like you. A good time. A money's worth."

No, thank you. No No, I dint meant to offend you. Yes, your breasts look enticing. No No that doesn’t means I have a thing for older woman, any kind of woman is fine for me. Not that I mean you are old. You are just mature in a soothing way. You remind me of my Asansol's aunt. She was soothing. And then she died.

But I guess we are deviating from the point. We are supposed to talk about you, your life, your beginnings, your endings, your..

"My life? Kid the biggest delusion is that they make you think it’s your life and it’s your choice. It was never about me. It was always about their happy endings."

Who do you mean by they? Wait. I don’t think it is appropriate for you to call me kid. It doesn’t have the glamour or mystique an alias name should endow. After all it’s a career choice. It is so tough to carve out a niche in journalism and a bland alias is almost a career suicide. Wait. I meant to ask who is they.

"Everyone is they. They are everyone. Why? Even you are they aren’t you?"

Me! No! Me! No I can’t be they, I have never done anything bad, leave alone you, but to anyone. Ah well yes sure it was me who poisoned Mr.Rastogi's dog but that was just because the dog was mean to me. And I never thought if you mix milk with phenyl the dog still drinks it. I surely can’t be hold responsible. It was the dog who was responsible, whatever happened to his exquisite sense of smell that he used so expertly to smell my crotch. That sniffling wet nose, can give erection to any hormonal adolescent. It never meant I have a thing for dogs. I had to kill it. But that doesn’t makes me they. I am sure they are worse. How you landed up in this unspeakable city anyways?

"Hope. What else do you think? Hope is Satan's way to get you wet in your panties, and after that there is no looking back. But mind you it was not greed, I was not greedy. I am not greedy. This flashy extravagance you see around me is just to cover up peeling interiors. It’s just an illusion of well being. Because the biggest trick for a man is to allude himself."

But hope is something nice isn’t it. I dunno what exactly hope is but surely at times I have felt hopeless. Maybe to be hopeful one needs to stop feeling hopeless first. But hope is nice. Hope is something that moves you forward. At least that is what Ranju Uncle says whenever we meet at our family gastro enticing gatherings. Though I admit I don’t like how his hand stroking my thighs somehow callously brushes my crotch. I somehow think his words have double meanings but everyone else seems to agree to him. After all he is in the Civil Services. But I mean is how your hope is different from our hopes.

"My hope is different because my hope was not celebritic; my hope was what you people take for granted as reality. But I was not ever granted that, I was part of age old chess board, where I was a designated knight. I can take two steps forward but they choose the next step sideways. Tell me did you ever rape anyone? How you men do it? Doesn’t the cruelty of it stop you from getting an erection?"

Rape! What! Rape! No, no! I never raped anyone. Why did anyone told you anything different? Trust me! I respect woman. I can’t rape anyone. Horrible. It must have been Shashank isn’t it? Did he tell you anything? I must not drink with him. Don’t know what all I blabber out. Look I don’t know what convoluted reality you believe. But I never raped anyone. What happened with her was just out of curiosity. We were just trying to explore each other in our attic. Yes I admit she told me to stop, she told me it was hurting her. But I can’t stop just like that. Trust me I tried to stop. But once you begin, you vision blurs, and your mind transfers all your common sense to your phallus. By the time I regained my posture. She was crying. But I did made her promise that it was fun. It was no way a crime. After all we successfully experimented.

"Yes, you people think with your penis. That's it. Even he thought with his penis. Told me he will teach me something nice. Told me I was too old now to just come to school and learn to read and write. Told me education was more about experimenting. Told me that learning was more about exchange of physical knowledge, and then threw me down on the table of the staffs’ room to violate me with his hand choking on my mouth. Strangely even today when a man explores me, that hollow creaking on the depilated table fills my ear and the aftertaste of the chalk dust rises from my throat. I guess it was the collateral of what you people calls the gift of virginity. All left of my virginity was a dried blood stain on the dusty table of staffs’ room."

Yes I know chalk dust can be terrible isn’t it? I recall my terrible allergy of chalk dust when I was kid. I guess it had something to do with the calcium. Every time Pandu Sir violently dusted the chalk infested duster by the side wall, I would indefinitely end up coughing like an addict on dope rehab for minutes at stretch and he would just stand there and watch me with amused silence. And then with a sudden start will come beside me and with a big paan stained smiled rub my chest to sooth me down, with his sticky fingers occasionally twitching my nipples and his other hand in his pant pockets maybe repeating the same twitching for his penis. Chalk dust allergies were surely terrible.

But you could have complained to someone, couldn’t you? After all that person was supposed to be you guardian after your parents, someone you can submit yourself with trust. But I guess you were too ashamed to come out with your truth.

"Ashamed? No I wasn’t ashamed. Why will I be ashamed for the hunger of a mongrel that you men get overpowered with? I cried and shouted to my parents, to my brothers, to my neighbours. All they said was it was nice to know that master-saab was taking interest in our chutki. They even told me how lucky I was to be loved my someone of such stature and qualification. And when he came to our doorstep to ask permission so that he could take me out of the shackles of rural rust to modernity so that I can succeed on the platform modernity. My parents felt privileged to hand me over to the person who raped me so that he could give me a glorious future in your despicable city."

But surely you could have ran away, after he bought you here I am sure you could have ran away. After all the doors are always open. A step out of it and you can rush out to a life of dignity.

"RUN? Out of these doors. But dear this door maybe opens, but after I get out of this door, the doors on your end is closed. The doors of your society will be closed isn’t it? I won’t be allowed to get inside your door. What kind of independence is that? At least my doors don’t let people through judging them on scales of honour and respect. Your doors are cruel than mine. But I did try to let go of everything. I did try to chase out life. Gulped down a can full of kerosene. But the effect was only nausea and loose motions. Even death cums inside me and leaves me with a sticky notion of orgasm."

Oh, why would you do such an awful thing?

"Self sacrifice is not as awful as you think when you don’t have any self respect left."

No, no, I don’t have anything against you killing yourself. Not that I want you dead, please don’t quote me. Last place I want myself stuck is in an investigation of a dead whore. No No, I don’t mean it in a derogatory way. Dead woman sounds more tuned. But I never meant you dead. Death I can understand. But why kerosene, when there are such beautiful devices to die. Dead people are much more attentive than the live counterpart. They are patient and serene as if they have achieved all there is to achieve and now just resigned to the pouring calmness. Though morally it’s wrong when covering a crime beat I do occasionally try to cup a feel of those cold and firm breasts of the victim, and occasionally give myself the pleasure of a quick erection. But they don’t complain. Maybe they are too happy in their own death to realize a violation. I like dead people. They are less of a nuisance.

I think there is something gravely wrong with me. Some error in the architecture, some malfunction.

"Haha, there is malfunction is both of us, actually most of us. Most of us are just a faulty product of a good species."

Yes, maybe Darwin will come to rescue and over the time olibrate the weaker ones, and our legacy will be rejection in the survival of fittest.

"Dar...who?"

Never mind madam. I shall take your leave now, the night is crowning out and I am sure you have a business to attend to. I shall find my way out of here. Don’t worry once upon a time I too was a regular. Now though I have a wife.

-----------------

P.S: what is the ideal threshold of absence...i guess when i feel like a intruder in my own space...like an abandoned house..where you come once in a decade and find that it may have been your house..but now its a home of flora and fauna and probably homeless creepy guy...and u are nothing more than an intruder in ur own space....blah blah apart...i feel like an intruder to my own blog...it feels familiar but now own... so what changed in this past months...well people used to say "get a job...get a life"...i got a job, the latter one refused to tag along....so 9 to 5 in formals...i lost the informality of my blog...and when i got down to write down what i felt like writing...all came out was bitterness...pent up bitterness...and it overflowed that somewhere i drew a line....and hence came out this...if this post doesnt makes sense or disgusts you in anyway...then u would have found me disgusting anyways so bother not :) most likely my last blogpost from this despicable city of mine...i still wonder at the enchanting warmth of this city that makes me hate it but love it all the more....a lot more is still left to be said... not one of my fav blogpost...infact i m happy atleast i wrote something...so if u hate it shout it out...and if u like it...whisper it once atleast....2011, you are a disappointment!!

Ballad of a Blind Man

2011-06-16T03:07:00.010+05:30

Darkness has many shades, maybe even more than colors. Yes, you can call me a deluded fanatic behind my back because I never knew color, but then again you never knew darkness. What you recognize as darkness is just momentary absence of light in your neon lit world. But I have lived in blindfold of darkness all throughout my life and I do have the authority to claim my truth.

When I was born, a comment on my medical report stating 'damaged cornea' destined me to a world of oblivion. But little did I care. For a newborn, life is itself excruciating punishment served on the platter of celebration like the fine print of some insurance policy. By the time you realize the selfishness of those sugarcoated promises, it is too late to rewind. But it will be hypocritical of me to claim that I did not enjoy the excess attention, the fake care and the hushed tone of people around me and their desperate attempts to make me feel inclusive to their colorful world.

But I could feel the mockery in their voice pinching through my skin every moment, their claims of superiority was always a hollow justification of their miserable existence.

''Mr. Chatterjee....few more hours. In afternoon we will remove the dressing, but let me assure you the operation looked promising. The replaced cornea should not be rejected by your system. If you are lucky you shall reclaim your vision today'' the nurse said.

''Haha, who told you I am unlucky sister. But I am pretty sure my luck won’t be destined by the vision, but still it would be a privilege to see your world and it’s so called grace''

''My world?? It’s your world too, isn’t it? Don’t you want to see it?''

''No sister, my world is not that shallow to makes judgment on basis of the colorful glitterati. I tend to rely on my other senses more for a more accurate judgment''

She mouthed an audible laugh and walked away.

My mother died when I was 7 years old. And suddenly the cushion I had from the vulgarities of the world wad torn away. People used to say my mother was very beautiful. But what i missed was that damp charcoal smell of her that slowly stuck to her skin after the long hours in the kitchen stove of our joint family.

My father married soon after that, and no it was not as cruel as it sounds. He married because somehow he was not equipped with rearing his blind child. And you can’t blame a person of being cold hearted just because he can’t feed and clean his blind son. He thought a new mother could do that for me, but the only fault in her was she used to bath with those imported soaps every day after cooking. The 7 year old me could not just let a new mother touch him if she doesn’t even smells like mother. But somehow people took it as my arrogance, and i never bothered to correct them.

Only person who I could not manage to dissuade with my anger was my cousin Sreelekha. She was 4 years older than me, but she never showed a little bit of pity on me. I guess she was jealous of all the excess attention i got over the time and as a result my every effort to push her away from me was responded with a slap out of nowhere. I admit at those times I surely felt the loss of my vision crippling my independence. But slowly I did not mind losing my independence to her and she in turn became my new guardian.

No one in the family protested because by now they were fed up of my tantrums and my behavior. But in our society the blind child with a dead mother has social apathy as his fundamental right, and I was exploiting just that.

No, I did not go to a special school. My father simply did not know any and did not bother to find out. But that did not stop me from learning. I always had a private tutor at my disposal who would read out my lessons to me and I learned about the world though his words. But writing was a whole new challenge, though I could write perfectly well but my teachers could not make any sense out of it.

On my 13th birthday i got my first typewriter as the birthday present and surely i found a new best friend.

''Mr.Chatterjee, can you please sign this form I have?'', the doctor said approaching in a hurry.

''Ah...Dr.Das, don’t you know you can’t just ask me 'blindly' to sign anywhere...its illegal''

'' Funny Mr.Chatterjee. I assure you that at the age of 72, I won’t scam your money off. It just a affidavit that states you won’t sue us off if things don’t work out as planned.''

''Aha..you don’t have to worry about that...I am planning to sue god for my blindness after I die. I have heard heaven anyways have a faster judiciary system.'' I said scribbling my illegible signature.

''Very well, Mrs. Chatterjee is completing the formalities downstairs. Within few minutes we will be back to remove your dressing. Best of luck'', and he walked out with the aloof arrogance i could always sense in the walk of doctors.

The peaceful silence of our home in those sultry afternoons was soon ruined by my incessant clikety claks of typewriter. Though no one mouthed any protest against me, but mysteriously my typewriter used to disappear from my cupboard if left unattended and again used to appear out of nowhere during evenings and mornings. Finally, people were learning to exploit my shortcomings and i was pleased. Till now my arrogance against normal people in general was like a unfair fight. Now the humanity in form of my fed up family, my uncles and aunts, my step brother and Sreelekha came back to draw blood. It felt fair and gratifying.

My typewriter was my way to get back to world. To shout back at them till the point the clicks drown the cry of my mind. I have reached puberty and I wanted to break free. I began with documenting everything around me, the sounds, the voices, the breeze, the screams, the cries. I typed pages after pages to be swept to garbage in the morning by the house maid. But slowly i learned to listen to one voice that was drowned in all these noise. My voice, voice of my thoughts. I typed down every passing thought in my mind and my typewriter was the patient listener. Initially I could feel sreelekha hunched at the corner of my room, reading silently my private thoughts inked on the strewn pages on floor, but she soon could not keep track and lost interest. I did not mind, she was not that smart anyways to decode me.

''How are you feeling? Nervous?'' she whispered slowly near my left ear, moistening it with her fragrant breadth.

''Not as nervous as the day i got married to you under all those disapproving eyes burning on me'' I replied a bit startled at her ability to always cheat my alert senses and stealth beside me.

''Mrs. Chatterjee, ask your husband to at least fake bit nervousness. Else it robs us doctors of our proclaimed godliness of miracles.'', the doctor slowly walked up to us.

''Ahh Dr.Das, I might as well call you a thief of robbing me of the comfort of my darkness. You better make it a miracle.’’, I replied almost choking over my laughter.

''Mr. Chatterjee keep your eyes closed as we remove the dressing and don’t open them until we ask you to.'' I felt the cold steel of the scissors cutting slowly through the gauge.

I was in my early twenties I guess when Kolkata was swept with one of the worst heat waves of the decade. The slow fan of my room on attic was fighting a long lost battle with the sweltering afternoon heat. I lay on my bed slowly tracing the trickling sweat down my neck, channeling through my chest. Sreelekha busted into my room with a suppressed excitement in her voice.

''I got a letter from the editor for you, came just now by mail.''

''Ok keep it on my study table.'' I already had a pile of such letters on my study table. I don’t mind the fact that they don’t find my book suitable for publishing, but what I hated was the pity they felt for the blind struggling wannabe author. I was not struggling for got sake.

''Don’t you want me to read it to you?'' she said almost with firm conviction.

''Something tells me you did not wait for my permission to read it. So why don’t you go ahead and recite.''

She came and sat beside me and whispered to my ear, ''Well if you insist on knowing, the editor of Rita Publishers incidentally found your book a fabulous account of a beggar in a world that is much more colorful and optimistic than the one we live in. He finds it’s almost a fable of inspiration and fantasy.''

Though i failed to understand how a struggle of a beggar in was bland world that I tried to describe with fake metaphors was optimistic for him, but I was too overwhelmed to care.

I might have cried unknowingly a bit because all I remember was she hugging me and for the first time i touched her sweaty back and chill passed through me. She kissed me and I opened my mouth to the moistness of her lips.

My hands were kneading through her softness as a blind man struggled to discover new secrets of her feminity. As she undressed herself and guided me to herself there was an unusual calmness in her and I realized how beautiful she was. I traced those pointed nose, carved collarbones and her soft breasts. Every curve and troughs in her body that had accumulated pool of sweat for me to discover and taste.

I lay on my back while her hands tore every off every piece of fabric that separated us before she climbed over me and claimed her every right over me as if I was her trophy.

She pinned me down and took me inside her. I felt her warmth spread through our loins to our soul. In a moment I knew all those hidden words we never said. I reached out to inhale the musk smell of her neck before I exploded with such vibrancy that it felt like the New Year fireworks all over again. I loved her and she was mine.

''Mr. Chatterjee, now slowly open your eyes, Mrs. Sreelekha Chatterjee is standing in front of you. Calmly open your eyes.'', doctor said.

To hell with being calm, before the last layer of the gauge was removed, I could already feel the burning sensation of brightness. The darkness was already fading, and literally world was just a blink away.

Slowly i opened my eyes and light like an angry mob busted through my pupils. Bursting into my inner confines light was winning the battle against the darkness and insanely erasing every trace of it.

I opened my eyes to whiteness, burning whiteness pricking my eyes like a million needless. For a moment i thought as if this is all you people mean by vision, stark bland whiteness that overpower your every senses to blur your ability to judge.

Then slowly the colors erupted, I don’t know what colors because till now I only knew them by mythical names of greens and blues. They drew outlines on my white canvas, outlines that took shape and maybe even meanings.

When the confusion receded, the blurriness sharpened to make her shape. I saw her for the first time, i saw my wife for the first time, standing there with a pleasant expression on her face, which something told me was expression of happiness. I saw her, I saw Dr. Das, I saw his stethoscope. I saw my hands, my legs, my bed, my white washed walls, my glittering bottles of medicines and it was mediocre.

I so wish they were brilliant, vibrant and exquisite. But more I tried to over value them, mediocre they appeared to me. I kept staring for more, for something new to happen, but I guess that was that of the miracle I had in store for me. No more splendidness waited.

I gazed at her, trying to recollect her from my memories. That lushness of hair that tickled me was replaced by a dull bunch of hair that did not shine as they told in stories. That pointed nose of her, I used to pull, was little crooked to left. The small mole near her left ear that used to make her different was no more than glaring imperfection. She was nothing those women i met in the books I was read to, or I imagined her to be. She was ordinary.

I felt the walls closing in; trying to squeeze me in this normality I was gifted. I needed to breathe, i needed to falsify myself. I rushed to the window to breathe as all of them stood there failing to understand my dilemma.

But they say when you wake up from a dream, reality strikes you hard. It was not the fragrant world i write about in the books, it is a world filled with stark clarity. The green lush trees were not meant to be dull and sparse. The sky was meant to be serenity of blue, not scattered yellow. The brown soil was grey and black. And when I saw my reflection on the window panes, it was not me.

It was a stranger who was tired of living, tired of the lies I was webbing in the comfort of my darkness. I was disappointed with myself for the first time. The arrogance suddenly felt all so fake, overcome by humility of reality. The velvety stubble was an overgrown beard covering an expressionless face as if documenting my failures.

I stared at those confused faces, perplexed by my sudden aggression and disappointment. Somehow I struggled to my bed and kept hoping for a sudden surge of rewind to take me back to the day when I first got my typewriter and learned to dreams. Then I realized dreams were nothing but god's way to laugh at our disappointments.

''Mr. Chatterjee, please talk to me. Tell me is there any problem? Are you feeling sick? Are you fine?''

'' Yes doctor I am...no actually.. no no, I am perfectly alright. I just need some time alone.'', I tried a fake attempt to smile.

''Take your time; we will be waiting outside, just in case you need us.'' She said in her always reassuring voice, with that smile with a hint of melancholy, I knew she understood.

''Sreelekha? Why dint you said to me before? Why dint you said they all wrote lies in their books?''

''Maybe I was jealous of your dream world. Maybe I wanted you to shatter a bit'' she said without looking back.

''Can you please switch off the lights on your way out, please'', I lay on my bed and closed my eyes.

--------------------

P.S: I am getting lazy day in day out. Dear future me, if you are reading this and if you have turned into a workaholic (which i seriously doubt!!), kudos to you, you did it. And if u are still this good old lazy bum, then, kudos...atleast you survived till now...u shall keep doing it...amen!!

Now about the story, it was written on my phone all over kolkata, sitting at parks, footpath, coffee shops, buses and autos. Hence it means a bit more for me, coz it was fun writing it :) But also apart from that I tried to write something which I dont have any experience with, I always wonder about people who cant see, and their perspective of world. Maybe they have completely different perspective, but it was just my take on it...no hard feelings. I also refrained from giving my protagonist a name, coz then his identity wud have mattered, and i dont want that to matter at all...he is just a medium..his perspective is the source. Enough Said!!

My New Queen

2011-02-28T04:35:00.004+05:30

He woke up long ago. The bright orange aura of light has already infiltrated into the closely guarded darkness of his room, but he just could not get up. He felt no need to get up. The curtains conveniently kept the glare of the sun hidden. Only streaks of sunlight escaped through the cigarette burns in the curtain and illuminated bright spots in on his naked body lying on the bed. One on his left thigh. One below his belly button. One on the right shoulder just below his neck.

He instinctively reached out for the curtain with his cigarette bud and as if in response another bunch of virgin sunrays hurried to make a new spot on the hollow of his chest. He felt like a cheetah preying silently in the folds of his bed, ambushed and strangely erotic by the whole idea.

He instinctively reached out to his growing morning erection and masturbated thinking of nothing in particular but everything. It was more of mornings exercise now, a mere attempt to look alive. The orgasm was nothing more than a chasm of relief.

He was a very ordinary man. He has a name but neither of us has bothered about finding it out, it was not important. But like most ordinary man, he did not know he was ordinary. Though he had no delusions about his insignificance, but he still did not know the definition of ordinary. Neither do I know the meaning of ordinary, but I guess if there is really any criterion, he would not be far off.

A small cubicle that he called his home was a partitioned corner of an abandoned English barrack in the outskirt of Kolkata. He laid back and tried to follow the broken conversations that floated through the thin walls of the neighbouring cubicles. All occupied by ordinary people, who refused to believe they were ordinary. But unlike him, they do so because they do not have the time to decide if they were ordinary. Still I am sure given aplenty of time, they would not. People are scared of being insignificant. Little they knew.

---------------

Calcutta has no bus stops. Or maybe they are there hidden somewhere, like a great treasure hunt that no one played cause no one knew the rules. No one has the treasure maps. Mostly no one cared. The buses were always lost in their way and it was a snake ladder game to find them. So when you did find them you could not let it go.

He saw her through the shutter windows of his D-47 bus. The rain was splattering on the tin roof of the bus, like the angry knock of the landlord, and through the dirty khirki of his shutter window, he saw her. But she was soon left behind before he could open the jammed shutter. But he knew she will wait for him the next time.

Next day he waited, patiently by the window, scanning every shop, every display. He knew she will be there and he will recognize her. She kept the promise. She stood by the window in the maroon sari with black border. Same as yesterday. Exactly same.

She was not like every other mannequin on every other shop window. She wasn’t just another plastic mould of cheap white plastic of the thrown away refuse. Maybe the mould of her face was broken.

She smiled, rather tried to smile to imitate her other neighbours those graciously flaunted the best of the displays of the shop. But she had a smirk on her face, more of a scorn. A broken smile, a smile that was once proud but now realised that she is just another hollow plastic mannequin.

And he kept staring. That marble sheen of her face, and those hollow eyes with white eyeballs. She refused anyone the permission to see inside her soul. She refused anyone to draw attention towards her face. Maybe she was revolting, angry at being normal.

A small part of her lip was chipped away. As if even the artist was scared to make her perfect. Maybe even he knew perfection is a myth of consumerism.

She stood straight, unashamed of the stark baldness of her head. Unashamed of the conventionalities of being a woman. And he knew how much he loved her for that. He needed her. He understood her and she said silently, even she did.

---------------

"Sir?" The broad fake smile disappeared from the face of the salesman as expected.

"I need that maroon sari mannequin, I want to buy it", he stressed unable to understand what was the fuss all about.

"Sir you mean you want that maroon sari. I shall get it for u"

"No No...Ok I want the sari and the mannequin, both."

"But sir we don’t sell mannequin, I can give you the number of the dealer from whom we buy our mannequins."

He laughed silently at the salesman. Another mannequin. Surely this person has never fallen in love. What will he do with another ordinary mannequin? It will not be her. He wanted her, he wanted to earn her.

"Arrey, get me your manager, just give me that mannequin with the sari, I will pay for it. You buy another one, I don’t want another one."

They finally gave off the mannequin for free. Maybe out of pity for his desperation, or maybe out of mockery. He could hear the hidden giggles when they put her and her brand new sari on the dusty floor the motor van.

They had tried hard to persuade him to pack the sari separately. But how could he let them strip her in broad daylight to stark nakedness. Animals, they all were animals.

---------------

People did stole glances at him as he dragged her through the narrow stairs of the barracks. But no one was bothered enough to ask, strange things happened and they have seen stranger things to be amused.

He marvelled at her lightness, as light as an angel that will shatter under the tight squeeze of his grip.

As he carefully laid her on his bed, he could have swore that broken smile had got a new shine in it. He knew she was happy, she was home. Away from the glare and afternoon sun of the display case, she was no more a whore to the eyes of the world, but in the soft darkness of the room, she was a woman who is proud to be a woman.

He sat on the chair scared to go near her, scared to get her scared. He did not want to impose, he never imposed.

The streams of sunlight through the burned curtains now formed the same patterns on the flimsy chiffon and filtered through it on the whiteness of the belly.

For hours he stared at her chest, for the slightest of movement. But her white eyes never blinked. It never betrayed the presence of life that she hid somewhere, not sure if it could disclose herself to him so soon.

Maybe it was late in night, almost midnight when he realised the street guard has started his hourly tapping of his stick to the steel lamppost, playing that lonely game he did every night.

He walked up to her and in a moment of acquired courage, planted a soft kiss on her cold lips. His eyes closed so that she cannot judge him.

Then with a sudden overflowing weariness slept beside her, with his shoulder touching her. Nothing less nothing more.

---------------

The first time he touched her, it was magical. The late afternoon sun was on the other side of the apartment, no part of the outside world infiltrated their life apart from the radiating warmth. It has been weeks and they have orchestrated and new rhythm of their own. The new curtains did not allow a bit of sunlight to touch her marble skin.

They did not talk much. He talked a little bit, but she never replied. I think it is but natural. But nevertheless she always has an expression on her face to let him know her point of view. A soft nudge maybe, which could almost go unnoticed.

First time he placed his hand on her chest, he could almost feel her pulse and she smiled, almost smiled as if adjusting her pulse with his so that they never go out of rhythm again.

Beyond the drapes of sari, was her perfectness, an expanse of whiteness that traced every curve of her body. Her breasts smooth but firm refused to budge under his fingers, defying him but still coy under his grip.

The seamless edges were crafted not with eloquence, but with love of creation. Maybe god sometimes should reconsider taking a lesson or two about creation.

The sari slipped off and the rest was just a formality. And there they lay stark naked beside each other, as if comparing themselves and their own master of creations.

The humid afternoon sweat came out of his pores and shined on her plastic skin. They slipped on each other, laughed on each other but held on to each other. She was stiff and he was clumsy, somehow in between they found a way to melt into each other. And then with a sudden burst of multitude of emotions, came heaven.

---------------

It was still dark outside, he knew with his eyes closed. The brightness of the rising sun has still not created an aura over his eyelids. But something was just out of place. It was like unknown warmth, which scares you of the impending chill to follow.

By the time he got his senses in place he could sense the burning smell, the distinct nausea of it has already hit him. But he was still not ready for reality. With closed eyes he could savour darkness for another minute or two.

She lay beside him with not a single complain or frown on her face, as if nothing have happened. She was brave and daring. Even the burning smell of plastic failed to nauseate her, she was plain indifferent, maybe blind in love.

The cigarette lay in the hollow of her stomach, the smouldering glow magnified in the darkness. The plastic slowly curling within itself, as if suddenly dancing with a life of its own. The white flesh of her, shrivelled under the heat of addiction. What was left behind was a gaping hole of imperfection. A mark that took away everything that was special about her.

He was neither sad nor angry, maybe just plain indifferent. They sat looking each other and they knew something has broken. It was not love but it was the comfort of love. Someone decided to pull the shades off, and the daylight of reality was no more stopped by the curtains that love has knit.

As the sun climbed through the windows and alleys of suburban Kolkata, and through that small hole in her stomach, her life seeped away. Today the sunrays felt no resistance by the curtain those were torn in the darkness of the night. And as they streamed through like a gush of water, with the darkness her life was dissolved in the soft morning sunshine.

What left behind was a plastic mannequin with its imperfection. Suddenly she was tainted and ugly. Did not someone say beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder? Maybe beauty also dies in the eyes of the beholder.

He got a small blunt knife and stabbed her in that hole of stomach and slashed her into half.
Then he slowly cut her into pieces, first her stiff fingers, then her hand, then the limbs and then her neck, in small and large irregular pieces of plastic. But she offered no resistance. She did not cry nor did she flinch. She did not even care. There was just a broken smile on her face, a hidden sarcasm maybe.

---------------

P.S: I felt weird and comfortable while writing this one. It was skewed for me and if u felt it was skewed and somewhat sick, i know exactly what are u feeling.

But again sickness is a very personal opinion. And personally let me tell u i am a very sick person. Not exactly proud of it but then again, there is no point of lying, is there.

I always had less people to talk with in my life, partly by choice partly because I am tab bit uncool and uncomfortable. Glare of existence irritates me. I like sunset more than sunrise. The diminishing lights are always a comfort.

The whole idea was to write something that conjoins two of my most treasured feelings, loneliness and love. If u could not relate to it, tell me where exactly u lost me, and if u could relate to it, tell me how exactly u found me....but talk to me...i am bored of talking to myself anyways!!

I wont say i will be more regular, coz i am a sucker at promises!! Ahh 2011...ur not dat great anyways, stop pretending!!

Sorry for the length btw...i hate long stories, too much extravagance...so if u have read through the whole of my story....i already like u! :)

The man with many pasts

2010-12-23T11:15:00.007+05:30

I stared at his chest for long time. Waiting to trace the rhythm of slow heaves and sighs. The soft hum of breathing. A conformation that behind those closed eyes he is asleep, but alive. A relief. I know it’s childish but for 87 years old I guess possibility is no more a question.

My grandfather lay on his rusted armchair that makes squeaking sound every time he tries to make a slightest of movement. He was lulled into his late morning nap. The sports page of the newspaper acted as a warm cover. The sun was making the shadow of the window grill patterns on the verandah over the canvas of his chest. The strands of his silver chest hair always strangely reminded me of the coir pushing out of the mattress hole in our guest room. The dentures less hollow of his cheeks were hanging loose. When I was kid, he always let me touch the shiny baldness that graced his head. It was an excitement; the warm soft skin on a bony underlay gave me creeps. Today they looked dull in the morning glory.

I instinctively walked up to him and sat beside him on a small bamboo stool served as his breakfast table in morning. Slowly I tugged on the newspaper carefully tucked under his hand. He woke up with a hustle and then subdued, gave me an ample smile, ample toothless smile that always radiated a strange warmth.

"It’s a very bad habit, sleeping till almost afternoon" he said as he always did seeing the cup of morning tea in my hand, and as always I smiled the shy smile of a kid caught dismantling his new toy car.

He slowly glanced at the paper and with a sad melancholy looked at me.

"This city has changed. It’s not dying anymore, it is long dead. I wonder how you people survive in this swelling filth." He said with a fake disgust but genuine intention.

"Janish, once from here you could see the Howrah Bridge and I still remember it being constructed. Year after year the steel bars taking shape, connecting each other, and reaching out to the other end. That was the Calcutta I grew up in."

"But dadu, there must be lots of Englishmen that time, with all etiquettes and rules. Weren’t you banned from big places being brown and all”, I conjured a bit of fake amusement and some real inquisitiveness.

He always loved to tell stories about his youth, always with a tinge of nostalgia and a dollop of excitement. It was like an early black and white movie scene without the background buzz playing silently in back of your head. His words gave them the meaning, the direction and understanding.

"Those were just stories to glorify the agony. Ingrez always minded their own business; they did not go around beating every other man on street. You should have seen those lonely officers’s kid begging to let them play football with us on the cantonment dump ground after school"

"Dadu, you are just coming of in front of me as a big fat bully. Not advisable", I grinned.

"bah!! Bully we were. But yes there was always an arrogance of the white skin that we could never match, and tell you what, they never sweat. I remember how jealous we used to be when after the game we are dog tired and they just pounding on. Kochuris ruined us Bengalis”, he said with an amused smile staring at the left over oil stains of the Kochuris on the empty breakfast plate.

"Ahh!! That explains the reason of being bully isn’t it? Jealousy", I mocked him.

"Haha, call me whatever you want but friendship with those white kids were our only way to meet bideshi women whom they were acquainted with. It’s all give and take", he chuckled.

"Nah dadu, not interested in listening to your love story. No way could you have known English girls."

He gazed silently for long to the newspaper, as if lost in the array of the black and white ink, or maybe just lost in his mental photo album of past.

"Amelia, her name was Amelia", he smiled to himself rather to me.

"Dadu, I am not going to believe that you were in love with your "my fair lady" and survived", I grinned amused.

"My dark lady, you can say. She was dark skinned, worked as a housemaid for boro babu, my boss"

Behind the bifocal lens showing his obscenely magnified eyes there was a twinkle of solace, a comfort in the warmth of past.

"She was an african-american?” I blurted with startle with the inability to come up with anything more appropriate.

"No, I guess neither African nor American, just her, big eyed shining brightly and lush of black hair. At least that’s what I remember of her."

"Tell me more, promise I won’t tell grandma" I smiled trying to cover that strange feeling of excitement rising through by belly.

"That you have to promise, I can’t risk a divorce at this age, can I?” His said choking on his laughter

"She used to come daily evening to sit by the playground, to watch us boys play in the evening setting sun. Daily I used to watch her from distant end. Occasionally she stared at me and gazed intently and did not removed her eyes when I stared back" he voice was distant as if flowing through decades

"Don’t know when I it all started, and when I started getting jealous when she stared at other boys instead of me. I once kicked my own teammate to make her look at me" he told as he gazed intently at me for a reaction.

Smiling I said, "And I guess u did?"

"I did and she did. And I was suddenly sure about something, I don’t know what, but I could feel the surety inside me", he exclaimed with a glitter.

"Then...then what dadu?” I don’t know when an unintended smile filled my face.

"Few days passed, one day coming back from office, I saw her there, sitting all by herself, and suddenly without myself, I walked up to her and sat a few feet away from her. She stared back at me. Not with love, nor with curiosity, but with a strange sadness, sadness that you feel when while watching a movie that you suddenly realize it’s going to end badly, inevitably.", he said with a finality.

"And you just sat there, staring at her. Oh dadu you are spoilsport."

"I did not; I went up to her and tried to say something to her in English. But neither did I understand what I said, nor did she. We just stood there smiling at each other in a desperate way to express ourselves."

"When was the first time you formally talked with her?"

"Never, 2 years later I married Asheema. And somewhere in between Amelia stopped coming to park. I searched for her, but somehow I always wanted to not find her. I told my mother about her the night before of my marriage. And her hysterical laughter still rings in my ears. Leaving my room she said you could have told me earlier, I uselessly wasted so many times to find you a milky fair wife. And she left."

I was quiet for long and for some reason even he was, I could see him loosing the sudden sparkle from eyes and clouds of uncertainty covering him all over again.

The silence was broken when my grandmother, Asheema shouted from her room,

"Won’t you go for your bath today, or are you waiting for the sun to set. I am not going to take care of you if you catch cold this time. It’s just this bad habit of yours, uff baba..."

He smiled at me but a kind of smile that lost the personal feeling it had few minutes ago. Hopping on one leg he went on his way to bathroom.

I could hear him cursing under his breath, "This arthritis will kill me someday"

My grandfather is a schizophrenic patient for the past 10 years.

The truth is he was a small time clerk at an English Oil Mill. He could never look into the eye of his English boss. He always hid himself in the crowd. He never owned a motorcycle or a car. And courage always failed him. He married the only woman he knew in his life, his childhood playmate and his only love Asheema. If anyone asks me to say something significant about him, I will be at loss of words. He always has been that unknown face that makes the crowd, nothing more, and nothing less.

But is it really the truth, because last time I checked truth is what I or we conceive to be true and for my grandfather there are many truths and all of them are true on a particular day and false on other days. And with help of this array of truths he can live so many lives that most successful people cannot dream of.

Given a choice, what would I choose a constant realization of what I could not become or an alternate reality where all my whims and fancies are real to me? I don’t know, but the possibility is surely exciting.

I glanced at the back page of the newspaper lying on the armchair. HBO is screening a new movie on their Friday Premiere at 9, "Amelia"

"As the present now
Will later be past
The order is
Rapidly fadin'.
And the first one now
Will later be last
For the times they are a-changin' "

-Times they are a-changin', Bob Dylan

P.S: Finally I finished a post successfully... :) laziness and winter are bad combination i tell you.

About the story, it is a pure work of fiction and has nothing to do with any real person. But I imagined my grandfather while writing this post so in a way its a dedication to him, the bravest man I have known. Again the conversations did not had the eloquence I intended, so critical opinions are wholeheartedly invited.

Also I like to point out the constantly changing timeline spanning over adolescence and youth alternately of the flashback was intentional because schizophrenic patients cant follow a fixed timeline in their imaginations.

Hopefully I can do justice to my blog more in the coming year...so Happy New Year to all of you!! :D

..and a coffee with extra cream

2010-10-31T16:21:00.004+05:30

The ashtray was overflowing with cigarettes stubs. Some burned, some crushed and scattered like the half burned hands and limbs of the unclaimed body pile in Municipality Incineration ground. The thought always gravely disturbed me.

The evening crowd started to pour in at Coffee House. The day has lashed at them, but yet again they have survived and as if to celebrate another victory of survival they gathered over a cup of coffee. The college students of Presidency were laughing hysterically at one corner huddled in their group and the grey haired bureaucrats mused over politics and diabetes. The waiters visibly tired and disinterested over the meagre tips were moving like zombies in the labyrinth of the tables and misplaced chairs. And in midst of all these the big portrait of Rabindranath stood silently and stared right through us to an unknown distant.

In the left corner I sat on my 4 foot by 4 foot table decorated with a glass of water and my lonely ashtray. By now the cigarette smoke was slowly engulfing the high ceilings and burning nicotine slowly numbed my senses that I could no longer smell the fresh winter breeze outside. It always feels good to be invisible in the crowd, to see life from a distance, to see happiness from a distance so that you can’t touch it and ruin the moment. Maybe this is what life is supposed to mean, a cup of coffee in a winter evening and an occasional cigarette. Maybe there is no higher meaning. No higher thought. Maybe even no god. It’s just us alone in a lonely planet, a mistake, a miracle.

What if there is no heaven? No one waiting at the pearly gates. If everything is just a myth. The fountains of youth, the happiness, and the virgins. What if there are no 72 virgins awaiting us but it’s just an endless void.

I shuddered at the thought. Commander-Sir has told me again and again that god tests his chosen disciple with impure thoughts and one should not give in to such feelings. How could I lose my self control so easily? It has to be done for the greater good. I took my handkerchief and slowly slid it inside the plaster casing over my belly to wipe of the accumulated sweat.

They said it was a safe explosive, but it still isn’t a comforting thought to sit strapped with half a kilo of strapped C4 RDX explosive. I mentally repeated the instructions, clip the electrodes, punch in inside the C4 and for the last 2 minutes pray to Holy God, because I am lucky enough to be the chosen one, but am I?

"May I join you if you don’t mind?" She interrupted

"Ye..Yeas...Yes Sure", I said spontaneously as if out of control. Last thing I needed was someone sitting close to me and getting suspicious.

She was not beautiful, but she was comforting. She has a calmness inside her that always makes you feel good.

"So you are an activist?"

"What gave me away?" She said with a fake amusement.

"The book on History of Communism to begin with. But isn’t it a sinking ship. It’s a lost cause I presume"

She smirked, the kind a mother smile when her kid asks her the most innocent question in a serious manner.

"Bapi Da, 1 coffee and 1 sandwich. Should I order something for you too?"

I stared amused at the waiter who till now so conveniently ignored me and suddenly revived his interest in his job.

"No, I am already late. I should have left early" I said to her but more to myself.

"Do you know in Rome, gladiators used to fight animals? Yes, its brave and few did manage to kill the beasts. But most died a pathetic death", she said staring right through me with those fiery kajal lined eyes.

"Not that I approve of it, but yes I have heard about such stuff. But weren’t they forced to fight"

"Yes they were. But my point is, faced by impossible odds for being torn apart by beasts, won’t you just gift yourself with a peaceful death of suicide.Isnt it more logical?"

I smiled at the trap of words I walked into, “Yes, I guess so"

"Yes communism is a sinking ship. But if the other option is to drown in the waters of this so called democracy. I will take chances with mending holes in my ship."

"But what’s in it for you. What will you achieve?" I said a bit arrogantly.

"Tell me what you achieve by a cup of coffee and a handful of cigarettes. They are certainly not to satiate your hunger is it?"

"No but it at least gives me pleasure, which I feel is important"

"Exactly, pleasure. Pleasure is only thing apart from need that forces us to do things. Maybe I need a good job or a nice salary. But I don’t find pleasure in something I don’t believe in. You believe in your cup of coffee and I believe in equality or call it communism maybe even naxalism"

"Do you know I am a Muslim", I said as if to dare her. I always found it amusing to see how people reacted when I said my name. In their fake mask of secularism, they always squirmed a bit, their voice turned softer, and a bit more cordial, with a hint of pity.

"No I did not know that, nor could have guessed.
But if you think that your religion defines you, then I am glad to know you are Muslim"

"No, my religion does not. But what does is the fact that I grew up in a slum listening fairy tale stories of the lost riches before partition. What defines me is the fact that I am tired of feeling scared of any person staring at me. What defines me is how you people unashamed take the liberty to judge me." The words flowed out of me, as if escaping a life sentence inside my mind.

She still retained the smirk, the smile, which now felt like a mockery, mockery of my exposed emotions.

"But are you not changing that definition. I think you are scared of revolution, scared of struggle isn’t it. So I guess you are even scared of changing that definition."

"I am not scared of changing it. I am just scared, if I am following the right way to change it. I am scared that maybe in process of changing my definition, I will lose touch with my goal."

"But the path is not important. What important is the end, or at least hope of the end. Do you know what the difference between hopes and dreams is? Dream is a romanticism of future, but hope is need of future. Have you lost hope?"

A thin array of wrinkles of worry appeared on her forehead like a rippled sand on river shore. A harmony in noise.

"No, certainly not. But I have lost trust. Trust in humanity. I have lost trust in right and wrong. I don’t even trust judgement. Does that make me inhuman?"

"Yes, I guess that does. But humanity is always being a myth to hide our selfish self. We are scared of chaos inside us. Hence the veil of sanity", she said in a sad melancholic way, as if reflecting some forgotten past.

Then as if suddenly realising the flimsiness of the surroundings she smiled and started picking up her bag.

"Care to join me to the Metro Station? You seem quite lonely and a little bit sad. I guess it’s the peeling paints on the walls of Coffee House"

I smiled as if hide my emotions.

"Yes this walls are old, even the fans needs some rest. They do look tired, don’t they? Nah!! You carry on. Maybe I should start changing the system with some renovations out here" I smiled a satisfied smile first time in ages.

Bapi da came running as she put the money in his pocket. The extra tip was visible excess and the smile of Bapi da told why madam got better treatment.

"Hey, you haven’t told your name?" she shouted over the hum and bustle of crowd near the door.

"Neither have you, but I guess that is not important" I retorted.

"Hey! By the way, you know we are not much different, we both hate the system to such an extent that we believe, whatever is on the other side of this life, is at least better than what we have now!" I shouted with a rising excitement

She smiled her first genuine smile and walked down the stairs.

The evening breeze has turned chilly and I had forgotten my sweater.

--------------

She did not know how long she lay on the sidewalk. It was like a sudden gust of hot wind, a desert storm in winter night that swept her off her feet. The distinct screech in her ears deafened her from all the scream and chaos, giving her much needed moment of peace.

She closed her eyes to rest as the peeling walls of Coffee House burned in a cold silent night and hands and limbs were strewn across like an overturned ashtray full of cigarette stubs. The irony.

"When It's Time To Live And Let Die

And You Can't Get Another Try

Something Inside This Heart Has Died

You're In Ruins"

-21 Guns, Greenday

P.S: 1 Post in 2 months is pathetic, and yes i know it. But when life itself is pathetic cant exactly blame my blog. I hate the word writers block...coz i m not even a writer enough to have a block...but sometime its a comforting excuse..isnt it?

I myself think conversations could have been a bit more deeper...but I refrain from editing it, coz apart from being just a fiction, it has bit of my personal views as well.... As always let me know ur honest opinions....but that doesnt means u will be outright brutal :P

I am not stereotyping anyone here and if anyone finds this post offensive in any manner do let me know...i will amend...just dont kill me without giving me a chance to explain myself :|

A stranger, an old whore and a city to die

2010-09-14T16:41:00.005+05:30

I am going to tell you a story. I guess that makes me the narrator. I always like being the narrator. Because then I can be god. I can be omnipresent, in and around my characters, my protagonist. It is appeasing to see the dilemma of my protagonist, his tears, his amused smile, because he has no idea how it’s going to end, his story is going to end. I am the one who peels it skin by skin.

It’s late in central Calcutta. Shovabazar traffic is thin. The street lights sprayed its orange light on the rain washed streets. The uninhabited Rajbari cries silently in the nostalgia of its lost grandeur. The rikshawallas were sleeping in the shadow of their hand-pulled rickshaw to find peace in the darkness of its shadow. Mongrels tired of fighting over the city roughage also curled up to hide their face under their half filled bellies. Chotka is again drunk today, sat by the lamppost singing songs of Dev Anand and Uttam Kumar. And I stand on top of those depilated buildings of English-era that serves as slum in today's world. Its high ceiling rooms partitioned by cheap cardboard to give them fake privacies often violated by the small holes at the edges.

But they don’t concern me as I stood on the roof and saw my protagonist down on the street. In the stillness of the night, he walked with a hunger in his eyes. Such was the longing that it showed as pain on his face. His pale face and his black eyes. He walked carefully avoiding the glare of the street lights, as if the light intrudes his dark inner privacy. His long overcoat scraped the dirt of the footpath, making noise as if a snake slithered.

"Ohh look who is sad, should I make you happy", she snickered.

She was squatting under the closed shutters of the Homeopathic shop. Hidden in the darkness she was witnessing the nakedness of the city under the neon lights.

He stopped for a bit to find the source of sound. And abruptly without raising his face, he quickened his pace.

She smiled at herself. It was Monday night. Less business. Apparently most of them are religious enough to abhor non-veg and women for 1 day. They thought that made god happy. If only god cared.

But the nervousness in his eyes betrayed him. She could sense he needed her. She has got her prey for the night.

"It is indecent to ignore a lonely woman in such a dark night", she shouted back.

He turned and looked at her for the first time.
The kajal and the foundation did a very bad job hiding the visible wrinkles of the onset of old age. The red lipstick, the kind they sell on local trains was smudged at the corner of her lips that now smiled broadly at him. The thinning hair overflowed behind her.

Her fake chiffon, with the silver glitter was like a distant city skyline of high-rises. The deliberately pulled down sari oozed out her ample cleavage, where the sweat and talcum made ripple patterns as if to camouflage her identity.

"It’s a very dark city, the kind that kills you. Kids like you shouldn’t be roaming around alone. Let me invite you to my place, it’s just around the corner”, she declared mockingly

"No thank you, please don’t bother me", he tried to squeeze out the words so it does not betray his growing pain.

The hunger was not spreading throughout his body. The pale skin felt like parched earth in mid July summer in Gujarat.

An uncontrollable giggle erupted from her, echoing in the darkness around her.

"Am I bothering you? I don’t think you are roaming in the darkest alleys of Calcutta in the dead of night, in search of god"

She regretted it as soon as she said. She can’t afford to lose his only hope of income. If she doesn’t pay Rana da in the morning, he will again beat her. For the past few months she is losing deadlines. Maybe old age is forcing her into early retirement.

"I like you kid. Tell you what. I will give a discount rate. Come with me. Haven’t you heard some sick man is killing off beggars and lepers on the street? This city is drowning in blood and filth"

This time he sniggered.

"This city is not drowning in blood. It is getting drained of blood"

He could smell her blood, gushing though her veins like a whirlpool. He could almost feel the warmth of her body engulfing him.

But he knew he could not do it. Those beggars were different. When he looked into their eyes for the last time, he could see the gratitude they felt of being relieved of this punishment of life. He just helped them, but I guess people don’t understand that.

But she is different. She is fresh; there is something about her that repeatedly says she has not lost hope on life. She is the warrior-kind.

"You cannot satiate my hunger. Leave me alone", he was getting tired of his efforts to save her from himself.

"Is it so? Kid. There is no hunger in a man which I can’t fulfil. When after a day filled with hypocrisy, men comes to this underbelly of the city, I have fulfilled their true animal hunger"

"What if I say, I want to slowly dig my fangs in on the soft and moist skin, below you ears, and drain you of every bit of life you have inside you. SO that you are left behind as a dry and lifeless body and a bad aftertaste in my mouth.” he sniggered.

"Hah! You have to pay me double than. My aftertaste is worth it", she tried to be bold, to hide the uneasiness building inside her.

"You don’t get it do you? None of you humans ever get it. I did not kill them; those amputated pathetic creatures, which you "humans" shunned out of your brightly lit high-rises. I just sucked their life out of them because it fulfilled my hunger of blood and their hunger of death"

The horror slowly descended in her eyes. The first beads of perspiration started to appear from nowhere on her forehead. He could sense the slight shifting of her foot, which looked like as if she was floating away from him.

He smiled satisfyingly, he liked predictable people. Who feared him and loathed him. He liked to act monster in a world of monsters.

She did try her fair chance to run, but no one can really run away. I saw as he dug his fangs on her soft flesh. I also saw the first trickle of blood from the corner of his lips. I did not missed to see the teardrop rolling down his cheek, because he knew he liked her, he knew she did not deserved it.

But still he could not let her go. Maybe he too was selfish. Maybe there is a little bit of human hypocrisy in every vampire.

P.S : Before u judge me, I would like to mention that I am trying to write in a new kind of fiction which has active narration, as in the narrator is the part of the story and also some dark sarcasm. Hence I felt pretty awkward writing it out of my comfort zone and cant quite judge the quality of it....So i request the junta to let me kno dere honest opinions in the comment section :)

Btw sorry for being such lousy and irregular regarding my post.....its not dat i am busy or sumthing...i m just plain lazy!!! :P

One day at a time

2010-08-04T17:54:00.003+05:30

There was no clock in the room. So there was no time. Just an abandoned sense of passage of time. As world took baby steps toward the unwanted future, I lay still on my bed, white bedsheet with dark patches of midnight drool of last night. A polaroid. A snapshot.

I kept gazing at the upturned steel glass on the table. Its curved surface gave a distorted reflection of the world outside my window. My fenced window. My barbed window. My false window. The trees were upturned and strangely elongated. The ground blue as sky. Skies green and brown. And the inverted people, with their inverted logic and inverted sense of well being on the streets. i dare not see outside the window, just in case, the reflection may turn out to be true indeed. So I stare at the glass. The steel glass.

He was silent for long time. I turned my gaze to see if he was even there or not. But there he was reclining on the lime white washed wall, lost in his own thoughts. I repeatedly told him to stay away from the walls else the lime dust will ruin his clothes. He can be stubborn sometimes you know. I always wondered how he can stay so well dressed and clean shaved all the times. He says its but natural to him.

He chuckled, as he caught me staring.

"Maybe next time I will get you some of my clothes. Would you like that?"

"Maybe next time you stop meeting me forever. I would love that”, I said.

"Will you. Others outside who does not want us to stay together will love that. But I guess you won’t. You know i will get away from your life if you truly mean it."

"Ohh don’t you patronize yourself. I can survive without you. You need me as much I need you."

But inside we both knew how false it was. He did not need me a bit. But chances of my survival without him were bleak.

He looked quite a bit like me. Means if I get rid of my overgrown beard and maybe get a bit in shape, I am sure you can confuse between two of us. Maybe that’s why I trusted him from the beginning. It may sound odd but if someday you meet yourself on street and he asks you for help, would you just walk away. You may sure feel odd, but I bet you will end up helping him.

Our first meeting was equally strange. To tell the truth I don’t exactly remember how we met. All I remember was me sitting on the stone steps of Babughat, the river water few feet away spreading a humid and strangely comforting stench. Stench of human sweat that has over the years replaced the sweet water of the river i suppose.

And there he was, sitting two steps above me, even then smiling, as if he knew every thought that crossed my mind.

"You can try, but I doubt in such a crowded time they will let you drown. Someone will rescue you", he had said.

"I don’t want to die", I said. I was always bad with sarcastic comebacks.

"Neither do I. But isn’t it a discomfort knowing that, even if I wanted to, these strangers won’t even let me die."

I knew I would like him then and there.

The sky was suddenly darkening. Maybe a monsoon storm approached. Or maybe simply sun got tired of humanity and decided to abandon. But I will have to wait till tomorrow to know for sure.

I turned on my bed, now facing him, no actually, now confronting him.

"They think I am insane" I said, period.

"Are you?"

"Am I?"

"Insane, a person who is no more sane, that is funny", he said.

"How come that’s even funny"

"No the funny part is sane is also defined as a person who is not insane. No one cared enough to identify the differences. Maybe there are no differences. You may as well be sane and they be insane if you like that."

I felt a bit better. Maybe even they did. Maybe that’s why they mark me as insane, because it appeased their sanity, their make believe sanity.
Sanity is relative. Einstein missed it. I did not.

Somewhere a bell rang. Its high pitched gong absorbed by the thick walls and metamorphed into a soft clank. He gave me the goodbye smile. You know the smile where the happiness is just a veil to cover the pity in their eyes. A false assurance. A fake sense of understanding. A good riddance.

I looked again at the steel glass, the reflection of the distorted world. A world that promised not to judge my sanity, because everyone there is just as distorted as I am. A world free of you all, but filled with your ugly reflections.

The door unlocked from outside and the nurse walked in with my blue green pills. One pill for hypocrisy, one for a mock smile and the third one, a little big to make me differentiate between real and fake.

Nowadays I sometime do wonder if the door stays locked, how can he come inside to talk to me, but never stay to meet others. Maybe he just has the key. The key to my room. The key to me.

"I’m on the outside
I’m looking in ,

I can see through you
See your true colors,

Cause inside you’re ugly
You’re ugly like me"

-Outside, Staind

Purple dreams, Red realities

2010-06-03T16:08:00.003+05:30

My blood is red

In the dim haze of the streetlight I checked my syringe. The blue liquid glazed in the yellow glare of distant light. With a hard learned accuracy I stuck it in my veins. I pulled the piston back with a jerk. The red blood slowly diffused as if conquering the blue bliss. And then it turned purple. I pushed it back in one go!

My blood is purple

The comforting numbness took over the control. I lay there reclining by the lamp post, in the darkness of the broken bulb. Slowly it all turned bright with a new aura. Distant voices rose and faded by my side. Words that I could not decipher, meanings I could not understand.

As I lay there in the darkest alley of the posh Park Street of Calcutta, I heard the distant laughter of enjoyment, glamour of riches, whispers of scandals, sighs of lust and occasional squeals of pain and hunger that goes unheard.

In distance I saw him slumped over the sidewalk. The legs floating lifelessly on the overflowing drain of filth and lies.

A closer look at his silhouette revealed that he was a she. Her slender legs and lean arms betraying her feminity. Her hands in a strange melancholy seemed like a call for help.

I pushed pulled and ultimately jerked my left-of-self and staggered towards her.

Around me people lay in their own darkness escaping pain and reality, maybe even waiting on Armageddon.
But she seemed to call me somehow.

I turned her slumped shoulders towards the light. In the yellow glare, her face seemed to lose its colour to desperation. I reached out for her pulse.

They say drug peddlers can find your veins and pulse faster than a surgeon. I smirked at the thought.

Her pulse confirmed my fears. The lub dub of her blood was losing its existence every minute.

The sudden panic overflowed my senses. The haziness cleared up and reality was pouring in on me.

I slapped her hard in desperation. She faintly opened her eyes and looked at me. She tried hard but words failed her.

But that look placed all her trust with me as if she gave her responsibility to me from then on. Then she slowly lost consciousness losing herself to deep sleep.

Suddenly I needed to do something, maybe its long time since anyone trusted me, and anyone believed me.

She gave me the importance that my world and my parents always failed to acknowledge. I was always the one who lost his way and hence could not be trusted.

Her trust on me gave me that lost reason.

I scooped her and lifted her in my arms. For a moment I was amazed by the fragility, the lightness of her as if the burdens of life were slowly dropping off her, letting her go.

I clutched her hard, in a way to stop her from flying away.

In the blurred glitter I ran out of the alley. Suddenly the darkness pulled its blanket of me and like a rabbit of a magician's hat I was out; I was out naked in the world of mute audience.

I stood with her on the crossing of Park Street and shouted for a cab. In the glare of the man made sun, I felt naked, I felt open and scared. People passing sneered and some showed fake detachment. We are a generation of voyeurs, who enjoy misery as their daily evening show when it is on the other side of television. Death is a good entertainment.

The cabs getting hint of my evident poverty stayed away. I was the clown and she was my prop. We had to perform.

I shouted and frantically waved for a cab. One stopped. I looked at him; he motioned me to get in.

I carefully laid her and climbed inside. Her head rested on my lap. The irregular pulse on the back of her neck passed current of hope through my thigh.

I looked at her face for the first time in clear light. A small round face of middle class dreams that somewhere in the sin city lost its way. Now under the dab of cheap Chandni Chowk makeup it hid in the dark alleys. The paleness suggested her fondness or maybe her need of the veil of darkness.
But still under that flashy brown-red lip gloss and double layer of kajal, there were those large Bengali eyes, a faded rosy lips and a dusky beauty.

She was an evening sky covered in clouds of south-west monsoon. She was Meghna. At least for me she was.

And in a moment I wanted to hold her hands when she woke up, and never leave them again.

In the thinning traffic of late night diners and half drunk truck drivers we approached Medical College Hospital. The smell of swabs, antiseptic, pus and death engulfed me.

I dragged her out in my arms. The driver gave an understanding nod that he will wait. I looked around for help.

The porters in stained uniforms turned their gazes and got themselves busy. I walked inside the emergency with her in my arms.

The sadness and blood were strewn aplenty. Diseases were overflowing everywhere. Doctors stayed in their AC cooled cabins and in the cover of darkness the attendants played their little game of doctor-doctor to the winding queue of injured patients.

I went in and put her in the sofa of the emergency room. The attendant with look of anger and self importance came and looked at her. He checked at the pulse and saw the numerous punch holes of self injected syringes.

He rushed for the doctor. The doctor came up and gave a look of pity and disgust to her. We were the lower creatures of the society who are loser by the social standard to those hypocrites of the high rises.

She was for cheap pleasures maybe; she was not for treatment and caring.

He looked up to me and said in a monotonous tone, "So shall I call the cops?"

I said, "But wouldn't that mean decrease in your share of income!"

He gave me the look of hatred and said, "You people ruin the youth"

I smirked, "Sorry!! But it’s you who ruin the youth, we just provide a cushion for their fallback when u shun them with your high ambitions and frivolous dreams"

With a hopeless sigh, he said, "It’s a lot of risk to treat without police consent, 5000 would suffice"

I took out whatever was left in my wallet, I laid it in his hands, and a mere 2000 rupees did suffice his need.

After all we all bargained for our skills, we all are a pimp of our art.

I sat beside her and touched her cold cheeks; I whispered in her ears that I will be by her side.

They asked me her name, I said, "Meghna, it’s always Meghna"

I sat outside till the morning, the darkness was diminishing.

Stream of people flowed in and out, some dead some alive, and few like me stuck between the two.

In the morning I went inside and enquired about her, the nurse went through the file and replied nonchalantly, "Meghna, Expired, before admission" and got herself busy with other files.

I don’t remember how long I stood there. And when my legs got tired I took the bus to esplanade.

I dint cried, but all I remembered was the fainting warmth of her cheek when I bid her goodbye.

They say unclaimed bodies are burnt after 14 days in morgue. So they say!

But in the rising sun, I promised Meghna that I will climb my way out of darkness, I will give myself a second chance.

My blood is purple

My blood will again be red! Someday.

P.S: Am in Hyderabad babey!!! And slowly but surely getting into the tune of dis place....again a crappy fiction for u ppl to deal with....well actually i dint myself liked the flow of the story much...but the whole fiction was a result of discharge of anger on the mismanagement of hospitals which i personally faced a hell lot of times!!

Damn I am one of those once in a blue moon bloggers now!!! Hope to get back on track soon!!!

B.O.R.E.D help me!!!

2010-05-09T02:37:00.004+05:30

Now what is the limit of getting bored...means when can you really tell that you are bored

is it when you sleep more than you remain awake in a day?? yea..hav done dat...but no dats not the benchmark!!!

is it when your eating schedule is centered more around to pass time instead of pacifying your hunger??...

is it when you watch back to back 2 good porn??..now lemme tell you..the goodness of a porn is decided by the fact that how less amount of time you "need" to watch the porn...if its less than 5 mins..dude work on your system...if its less than 15 mins...yea..ur in my league...if less than 30 mins...ur GOD!!...if less than 40 mins...u need god!!
so 2 good porn back to back is really sad!!!

is it when you actually refresh your face book home page more than twice per minute??...oh yea...i am telling u...dis is desperate!!

thou you shud kno that options like finishing seasons of series and watchin 3 back to back movies are already done...and they feature at much more insignificant position

hung around pubs and bars alone for long enuf to ppl start to wonder abt my intentions!!

oh yea!!! now again...can anyone explain...why I am frisked more at malls than my friends...kk I get da fact my beard can compete wid Osama's(ahh!! dunt stare like dat...its a metaphor)

nyways..back to boredom!!

now I have heard and read writers and who-even-read's-them-poets blame their success on the leisure and boredom they undergo to let their mind roam in another level of intelligence(rocket science wala intelligence is 1st floor...dis special wala is 2nd floor of intelligence)...

but I tell u...ideas comes to me during pressure periods...cummon dunt tell me that microcontroller pin diagram doesnt reminds you of strip tease dancers???

kk..everything reminds me of strip tease dancers...but I am sure you also have your own happy place where you can go only when you are under pressure...

and guess what...just as soon as my friends will get over their exam...i will be away for 2 months to Hyderabad!!!!!!

now I am not exaggerating..but even Armstrong had Aldrin with him on moon!!!

how are you supposed to survive all alone in a city working on some project at a godforsaken out of civilisation college campus!!!

so I cry out to the internet community...if anyone reading this blog is as bored as me and is from hyderabad...please rescue me from this loneliness..and well less dramatically show me around the city!!!ahh...whom am I kidding...show me around the pubs too if you can!!! (dammit there there is no doe-eyed emoticons)

and hey!! I went to my old school...and damn it was emosanal!! and I now sooo miss school life!!!and ad my creativity is on a medical leave...i leave you with this rhymy poem I wrote!!! :D deal wid it!!

A bit of me died,
when dad said goodbye.
In a pricky tight uniform,
I clutched the school gates and cried.

A bit of me died,
in my first school fight.
My first torn button,
my first bruised thigh.

A bit of me died,
when i first wet my pants,
with eyes lowered,
and shame realized.

A bit of me died,
with bits of broken glass pane.
An abandoned cricket ball.
Under the principal's glare.

A bit of me died,
of anxiety of delight,
of those precious 60 minutes.
When i first bunked my class to hide.

A bit of me died,
choking on my first stolen tiffin.
On the dry cold breads.
and sweetness of sly.

A bit of me died,
when i saw her smile.
My first love letter,
my first rejection alike.

A bit of me died,
in guessing the words,
and muted silencies,
of flash of genius in dumb charades.

A bit of me died,
in wide eyed awe.
on those slipping chiffons,
of my english teacher.

A bit of me died,
on the farewell dance.
In illusion of good riddance,
in search of a better world outside.

The rest of me that survived,
is endangered in the fight of might.
Wants to go back in a reverse drive.
Inside those closed walls,
where i am my innocence personified...

P.S: Hey!!! its my half random post after like months!!!.... :)

P.P.S:Hope I can come up with something worthwhile soon :P

Under the glare of Neon lights...

2010-03-27T15:18:00.006+05:30

Many may not know but Jhontu da makes the best Jhal Muri in Calcutta. Maybe he doesn’t know himself. I wonder would that make him proud if he knew.

For 18 years Anindo have been a regular customer to him. On his way to Esplanade Tram Depot he always stops near the Grand Hotel junction and with a faint smile of acknowledgement Jhontu da gets busy to mix all those myriad flavours and a handful of Muri.

Extra Aam chutney and no green chillies. Green chillies cause acidity to Anindo. And after that as sun slowly sets behind Victoria Memorial, Anindo slowly walks toward Tram Depot. It was as if both sun and he knew what lies ahead in the darkness of the night and have stopped expecting miracles long ago.

TR-114.Thats his tram. For all these years he spent most of his evenings serpentining through the neon streets of Calcutta. But it still brought the same excitement inside him.

The soft hum and rattle of the tram, and the occasional electric flashes of the power line, still brings creates the same fervour inside him.

---------------

It was a summer evening of long lost year when Anindo saw her.

The evening twilight was losing battle with the growing glows of the street halogens. Both the bogies of the Tram were crowded. Last group of Office babus were in hurry to catch the last ferry to Howrah. And young couples were on their way to the evening show at Metro or Globe Theatre.

That was when Anindo saw her waving her hand frantically to stop the tram. She was wearing a dark yellow sari with maroon embroidery. The starch of the sari was long lost in day long perspiration. But still the folds of the aanchal was neatly held by hidden safety pin.

With eminent tiredness of the sultry day she climbed up the tram and took a window seat.There was a strange melancholy in her eyes. Or maybe it’s just how fatigue looks in those big black eyes. Anindo could see the beauty hidden under the sweat ridden face and beneath the wheatish complexion. It was a beauty that was losing battle to the dust and pollution of Calcutta.

In an instant Anindo knew, he was in love, and he regretted it.

---------------

She always wore 2 saris in rotation throughout the week and rotated the same combination of sari every 5 week. By now Anindo could successfully guess what she will wear that day. It was as if without any words they reached a mute agreement. A symphony. A routine.

Year have passed and seasons changed. Every cool breeze of evening reckoned the arriving monsoons. The rain washed streets of Chandni Chowk glittered in the glory of streetlight. Big black umbrellas and tiny pink umbrellas together made a cocoon for lover’s respite.

But today she forgot her umbrella. In the merciless streets of Calcutta Anindo saw her shivering in the chilly breeze. The wet sari was obscenely outlining her most intimate features.

A pang of jealousy passed through his spine for all those men whose eyes seemed to pierce her.

She dint even noticed. She was busy reading a obscure magazine made of cheap grey paper.

---------------

In some other year, it was winter in the city. The hazy sun in the evening Maidan failed to provide enough warmth. So the lovers found warmth in arms of each other. Safely wrapped in the descending fog, they dreamt of their happy future.

Government finally found out someone to blame the poor traffic management. In the soon arriving 21st century, trams were to be erased.

Roads were less and people were more. So government came up with a new plan. In the dark underground demon trains will ferry people through the gutters of the city.

Robi da says Doomsday is near. We are day by day moving nearer to hell. They are even naming those demon trains as Patal Rail.

Anindo's marriage was called off 4 days before the engagement. If trams are not there, how will he feed our daughter, they blamed.

Anindo was happy. Tightening his muffler a bit he rattled his tram forward. It was the festive season. Bakeries overflowed with sweet smell and spread it across the streets. Twinkling stars and garlands of light gave the dying city a new zeal to live.

She stood there with her friend and a packet of cheap oversweet fruit cakes. She looked at him and their eyes met.

Somewhere someone skipped a heartbeat. Her friend called out "Archana,Wont you come?"

And Archana climbed in.

Of course, she was Archana, he wondered. What else could she be? She justified the name, she justified the beauty behind it.

---------------

Spring was never a season of Calcutta. It mysteriously lost its glory in parts to winter and summer.

All that was left was a few weeks in end of February, when the Babus of Writer's building get the imperial ceiling fans cleaned up for the approaching summer.

The nights still held on to the winter chill.

Archana today sat just behind the driver's coach on the tram. And it was as if Anindo could smell her scent. The export quality roses of Barabazar lost their fragrance to her. It was a scent of a woman.

In the thinning traffic of College Street, Anindo turned to steal glances of her. Maybe he should approach her one day.

But she might get scared. She might even complain. He was nothing but a background prop in her world. Why would she care?

He looked back and she looked up. Their eyes met and recognised. It was gripping, those big black eyes. And then a faint smile of understanding appeared on her lips.

A lips discoloured by those chemical impregnated local lipsticks glittered with the colour of her smile.

It was an acknowledgement, of all those hidden glances over the years, of all those yearnings, of all those dreams that were to come true.

It was a smile of love. Of new promises to be made. Of new life to be led.

Moment broke with a loud shriek. A jolt shook the tram and few flares of electric discharge sprinkled in the streets from over head lines. Anindo held on the brake, and passengers bumped off their seats.

Many have heard of those moments when earth stand still. Today it did. Cars screeched to stop and people stood with open mouth. The breeze from the south was too scared to flow.

Anindo peeked from the window.

She must be 25-26, returning from college maybe. There was still a freshness of life in her face. Maybe death was even confused to engulf her.

There she lay in front of the tram. Eyes closed in a peaceful sleep, but the dark maroon blood overflowing through her nose betraying the illusion.

The brake was bit too late. Life slowly seeped out of her.

Last thing Anindo remembered was running frantically through the by lanes. Behind a reeking smell of a burning tram and a faint roar filled the air.

Anindo ran for his life. Ran till he was exhausted to the point of death. And then he lied down on the concrete streets of Calcutta. Under the glare of a neon light.

---------------

Today also Anindo finished his Jhal Muri. The sun has set but the evening glow persisted.

He started his tram. It rattled a bit and then got in rhythm and them started to roll slowly on tracks.

Anindo many times tried to recall the face of that girl. But oddly every time that face transformed into face of Archana.

Today also Archana climbed up the tram and sat behind Anindo. But Anindo looked straight.

His Archana was dead, or maybe his love was.

Love lost.

P.S: Ahh!! its been about 2 months I am off blogger. Sorry for the delay,to anyone who care :) Its a bit of a long post...so apologies if u had to strain ur eye muscles longer.Let me know da guds and the bads in comments!!

P.P.S: Well I am myself not sure about the timeline of my story. But I assume I have tried to restrict it within late 70's to early 80's. Which was times way before I was born, and have no idea of.... so if by any chance u are resided in Calcutta during those times...do let me know the authenticity of the descriptions i used!!

Death and All his friends!!

2010-02-04T18:03:00.005+05:30

Date: 04/02/2010

Today I got this diary from my LIC agent. I never really wrote diary before. I am a constable for god sake. I am not supposed to be poetic. But 20 years of service in the filth of my city has sure left me with lot to tell.

In my life I have seen this city weep. I have seen it fall. I have seen my city decay. But still not for one day I was not amused by it. Few incidents do leave a mark on you.

I distinctly remember few years back I went to his flat. The distinct smell of rot told me waited for me inside. He lay reclining on the wall. A small puddle of dried blood around his left hand which was carefully placed away from himself, and an unfinished cigarette bud on his lap.

In the glow of the morning sun and the buzz of the flies over him, I saw a distinct satisfaction on his face. A smirk that intrigued me.

And on the nearby table a neatly folded piece of paper. A letter.

Hello,
I am Abani Chatterjee, BA English Honrs. If you are the first person reading this letter I assume you are from police or medical attendant. So let me clarify no one forced me into this. My regret will be that I have no one to stop me from doing this.

I expect this letter to lie trapped between the pages of my death certificate and reports in my closed dusty FIR file. But if possible after the investigation is over, tear it up and throw it in any drain nearby, I want me to flow around Calcutta.

I am Abani Chatterjee and this is my story. If you are busy investigating my case I suggest you stop reading here because I assure you I have nothing more important to disclose here on.

Have you ever noticed the yellow light in a traffic signal? Maybe you miss it most of the time. I have always been that yellow light, not the red which everyone hates and avoids neither the green to bring smile and hope on those sweat ridden faces of hurry. But the yellow, often missed in the hustle of reigniting your engine and embarking on your journey.

Only people who were ever happy about me were my parents. But again they were happy about everything. I never saw them fight, or love. They never shouted at each other. For days they even forget to talk with each other. They always agreed on every step of life.

They never scolded me on my pathetic report cards; slowly they even forgot to ask for them. Then I realised that they were not happy, they were plain indifferent, to me and to each other. They were what I was to be in future.

I was never a good talker. So friends were something I never had. I grew up with that small abandoned water bottle in the back of our class. We silently used to stare at each other and share our boring little lives.

I never remember crying. Crying is for weak they say. Crying is for human I say. No one taught me feelings; no one gave me hope, so disappointment never visited me.

I remember once I pee-ed in my pants. And how dumbly I went to others and showed them my wet pants so they could laugh at me make fun and maybe talk with me.

I am abani Chatterjee and I never had my picture on the school yearbook.

She is happily married now. Once she said she will always be with me. I guess she forgot. Sadly forgetting is bit hard for me.

Those 2 years with her was when life forgot to be miserable with me.

She was afraid to hold my hand in college. She said she hated displaying affection, I knew she was embarrassed of me. I smirked and hid myself to meet her in the back lanes of college square where we had those thick glasses of cheap lassi.

She loved my broken English poems that rhymed too much. I knew they were pathetic. But I still loved to see the pity in her eyes for me when I read in the soft sun of Maidan.

Pity looks similar to love and I was happy.

She stammered a lot the day she said that she wants to be single. I knew she was in love with someone else, and pity can never win over love. So I lost.

I am Abani Chatterjee and I have only kissed the soft skin of my wrist in the darkness of my room.

I tried, trust me; I tried hard to live, to love. I have 37 chat friends whose real name I don’t know. But they are nice, they don’t find me boring, they listen to whatever I say and reply with link of varied porn sites. It’s funny how sometime a porn site is solution to all your problems.

I am Abani Chatterjee and I masturbate 4 times a day.

To tell you the truth being alone is not that harsh as it sounds. In this overflowing city of mine, loneliness is a bliss I suppose. But slowly this voidness seeped into me. Even so that I was an intruder to my own privacy.

I have spent 22 years of my life with me, and seriously I am bored of myself.

I am bored of the fact that on my birthday only wish i get is a computer generated SMS from my bank.

Surely I don’t approve of suicide. That’s what losers do isn’t it? But if someday you realise that throughout your life you have been nothing better than a loser, what will you do?

All I can say that I have no guilt in my life; I am just a bad outcome of the game of probability. But life has stopped to excite me.

I am Abani Chatterjee and this is when I say Goodbye.

PS: My apologies to my neighbour, hope they don’t have to deal with the rotten smell of my decayed self for long.

Apperently Kolkata Police did not required a letter to make the assessment. The case was soon closed. But I fell in love with Abani. Today I freed him to flow around his city. Hope he is happy!!

(*** Its not a fiction I suppose...Maybe it is!!...point is i wanted to tell something about myself and apparently I needed a character to hide behind...so be it!! Question is if its my life, shouldn't the choice of death be mine too?? wat u think!!)

"It was a lie when they smiled
And said, “you won’t feel a thing”"

-Disenchanted,My Chemical Romance

Tick Tag Tick Tag!!!

2010-01-13T22:47:00.002+05:30

Ohh!!! A sucky new year fr me!!! evrything goin wrong as of now!!! even not getting time to write a good blogpost!!! and as i was tagged by pebbles.. here it goes

1. What is your current obsession?
Picking my nose.Dammit I cannot just get over it!!!

2. What are you wearing today?

seriously u care...bermuda and tshirt!! stalk me!!!

3. What’s for dinner?

jst had a cheese patties and a thumbs up....slurp!!

4. What’s the last thing you bought?

Matchbox.last to last would be cigarettes.last to last to last would be a cup of tea.

5. What are you listening to right now?
Gravity-John Mayer...."gravity is trying to bring me down" beat dat lyrics!!!

6. What do you think about the person who tagged you?
a bit rebellious,a bit sweet, wid lotsa emotions and pinch of heat....and she likes her left side of face more dan her right(hint: her profile pic)

7. If you could have a house totally paid for, fully furnished anywhere in the world, where would you like it to be?
sumwhere under pacific ocean...spongebob type!!!

8. What are your must-have pieces for summer?
a scorching sun, lotsa dust, adequately salty sweat, body odour optional

9. If you could go anywhere in the world for the next hour, where would you go?
north pole....i always had a fantasy of peeing right on top of north pole!!! :)

10. Which language do you want to learn?
Mesopotamian!! sounds sooo cool!!!!

11. What’s your favourite quote?
"Next time you r having a bad day, imagine this, you r a conjoined twin,your brother attached to ur shoulder is gay,youre not.He has a date coming over tonight. You only have one ass" -anon

12. Who do you want to meet right now?

i want to meet her,it has been soo long widout her and i cant take it anymore....i miss her..and i admit on my blog..yes i love her...anne hathaway!!!

13. What is your favourite colour?
Blue...oh i soo love it...xcept da song "bulue..mere pass ada hai" ruind it a bit fr me

14. Give us 3 styling tips that work for you.
always wear underwear...widout dem ur whole world is hanging in balance!!!
never listen to ppl who say wear wat u feel confortable...bermuda nd baniyan is never a style statement..wear wat luks gud on u..
pls dunt overdress xcept on ur wedding!!!

15. What is your dream job?
movie critic nytime...u get to watch movies and get paid to thrash their 2 yrs of effort!!

16. What’s your favorite magazine?
u ask a guy fr his fav magazine and still wait fr an answer!!!dose angels have humongous silicone implants...hard to resist!!!

17. If you had $100 now, what would you spend it on?
beer, books, playstation!!! woohoo!!

18. What do you consider a fashion faux pas?
socks....dey smell bad...dey hav to remain hidden....and not wearing dem wid shoes is style statement..

19. Who according to you is the most over-rated style icon?
jadoo the alien...

20. What kind of haircut do you prefer?
ny haircut dat pisses off my parents is gud enuf fr me

21. What are you going to do after this?
dream about world peace!!! and occasionally fart!!

22. What are your favourite movies?
churail ki jawani in close competition wid mann ka radio...hard to decide u see

23. What inspires you?
darkness...i luv darkness...hides me frm myself u see!!!

24. What do your friends call you most commonly?
It varied from Roni to Sandy to Bangu...lord knows wats coming next!!!

25. Would you prefer coffee or tea?
tea...i love havin tea at obscured small shacks..beats all pleasures of life...

26. What do you do when you are feeling low or terribly depressed?
sit wid a blade and decide if its right enuf time to slit my wrist...

27. What makes you go wild?
free food!!! well thinking about it...anything free!!

28. Which other blogs do you love visiting?
if u have comments frm me i love visiting u...and if u dont...den welcome 2 my blog..coz u must be a 1st timer!!!

29. Favorite Dessert/Sweet?
cup of tea and a fag!!!

30. How many tabs are turned on in ur browser right now?
arnd 12 tabs...wat wud i hav done if tabs werent invented :O

31. Favorite Season?
FRIENDS all seasons!!! :P

32.Whats ur current facebook status msg?
"feeling bublablueish"

33. What is the right way to avoid people who purposefully hurt you?
I forgive dem..but dunno all of dem mysteriously lands up in some deep shit soon after :)

34. What are you afraid of the most?
raped by Rakhi Sawant!!! yes i said it phew!!!

35. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
Arghh!!...oww!!...huff!!...phew!!!...cool down!! its just me!!

36. What brings a smile on your face instantly?
money!!! food!!! comments on my blog!!! and many more!!

37. A word that you say a lot?
"Abbe yaar"...."Fuck be"...."Wazzaaaapppp"...

38. Tell us a bad PJ u heard recently??
Q:What did Pebbles grew up to be?
A:Stoned (self creation :P) (hope she doesnt kills me fr dis)

Rules for those who are tagged:
Respond and rework – answer these questions on your blog, replace one question that you dislike with a question of your own, and add one more question to the list. Then tag few new set of people.

And, I’ll tag :

Chanz
Bliss
Gkam
Meenakshi
Communi
Urvashi
Iddy

Hitchhiker's guide to Hyderabad

2009-12-14T19:30:00.005+05:30

my worst fears are realized....all dese time surrounded wid great friends i always maintained this hope that maybe I am not a loner after all....

but guess what...i am such a hardcore self absorbent bitch!!!

on the lieu of some cool sounding research project, it is my first getaway to Hyderabad...all alone....no family, no friends...just me and me..

I as usual stocked up my laptop and novels scared that I will be totally bored away frm ppl i kno...

well novels stayed untouched and most of da movies in lappy still to be seen and my trip is goin to end in 5 days...

I am soo much in love with myself that I lose myself everyday to this city to find a tired me at the end of the day.....I am finally a hitchhiker ....

I dare me to explore, I treat me, I flirt wid me(not in gayish sense!!!!!!!), I fight wid me and den again reconcile....

losing and finding me in this small by lanes and to visibly revolting street food...may surely hurt my tummy in coming days...but who cares..!!!

But apart from me dis city has been hugely exciting....and hence i would like to list some my views about Hyderabad!!!!

(**My critical views should not hurt ny hyderabadi...dey are meant to be taken as fun...and even if dey do...u dunt kno my name :D .... so u cant even sue me!! :P)

1> Whole world is troubled abt Telengana...but hyderabadis dunt even care...dey r happy go lucky ppl...as long as Biriyani is dere...dey as well stay in Africa!!!

Only difference it makes to me is i cant crack my joke like:

Q> What does Hyderabadis drink??

A> AP Fizz :D

That was funny....okk dat wasnt funny...but people who found it funny lemme kno!!! ur r my tru fans!!!

2> Now lets study English.... when the word "Footpath" was used to define those thin elevated side of the road...dey had some meanin...

'foot' as in ur leg....human leg, should traverse that 'path'....now if it was meant for motorbikes...dey could have called it 'wheelpath' isnt it??? u see da difference!!!

3 >Now in any normal part of world a TAXI can carry 6 ppl at most comfortably......but if a tractor size auto is carrying 10-11 ppl comfortably(ummm!!!) wats da point of calling it MINI TAXI.... 11>6...get it!!!

4> The best ppl to bargain with is the auto walas.... 1st day to go to Ameerpet... I said '80' so agreed on '90'...
next day I said '60' so dey agreed on '70'

gues wat...3rd day i said '40'..dey agreed on '45'

I tried '20' ...now da guy gave me dirty glance!!!!

5> Guess the most common shop in Hyderabad....obviously its not medicine shop...i rarely found any.....it is ...tada...liqour shop....aka 'WINE' shop( thou they mite not keep wine)

each gully has atleast 2 liqour shops....

I stay at a place called Balanagar....here there is a Bar flanked my 2 wine shops on both sides...wtf!!!

6> Now i kno prostitution is bad, immoral, unethical and blah blah...but apart from that can anyone tell me how come dere r hookers on streets at 7 in the evenin....dammit....its just evenin...not even night....even there are kids in the park

Chandra Babu thout abt a gr8 idea for a cheap theme park at NTR gardens....but let us poor mortal souls rest in the cool breeze of Hussain Sagar rather than constant pestering from veiled women....ooo scary!!!

7> Now I have to admit I am impressed by the bus service here...but i am greatly annoyed by da way conductor asks fr ticket.....in case u dont kno...every state conductor has a unique ticket calling tone....dats how dey recognize each other at Annual National Bus Conductors Meet...

well here dey was is "tiickkeetsssssssssssssss......." and dat ssss continues till u get frustrated and feel like peeing....

warnin....never board bus here if u feel like peeing....chances of a dry pant are very less :|

8> Comin back to auto walas....its funny that no auto wala here knos da places properly...hw to recognize....welll

if the autowala doesnt knos da place u told...he will give to dude-are-we-both-in-the-same-city look!!!

and if he knos...back 2 steps..coz he gets soo excited dat he as well hug u and cry!!!

9> telegu is an easy language..trust me....i had a conversation wid an autowala in telegu fr whole 10 mins....thankfully...."hmmm"(wid a deep grunt) and laughing out loud....is same fr all languages...I kept doin it alternatively...coz he was so excited talkin wid me...i dint had da heart to tell i had no idea wat he was talkin abt!!!

10> I love the cyber cafe here!!! dey are a big room wid small cubicles a wid door...only thing missing inside is some tissues and lube..... :P

u can actually listen people grunting in some cubicles....and if u come across someone else while reachin ur cubicle...i get da luk "dude...y u need a book if u r goin to watch porn"

nobody believes me dat i actually need net for my project work!!! :(

well always wash ur hands after u use those cyber cafe keyboards!!!!

11> anoder great place is da tea cafe here on every road corner!!! wid dere over priced and over sweet tea and allowed smoking inside...dey are my ideal couch fr day!!!

but in these past 10 days I fell in love wid this bitter sweet hyderabad!!!

and for da rest 5 days of my stay here....hyderbad!!! entertain me!!! :)

"To be on your own
With no direction home
Like a complete unknown
Like a rolling stone"

-Bob Dylan

Blah Blah!!! Blaaah!! Blah!!

2009-11-29T23:42:00.006+05:30

I am happy....yea it happens rarely...but i am happy!!!

Exams are over!!! I have 1 month of vacation to look forward !!! Winter is getting all the more chilly!!! And so many prospective fun plans hatchin in my mind!!! Ahh life!!!....

So as I am so happy I am so unable to write any fiction.....my next story is still playing in my mind...searchin fr a deserving ending and proper words....damn!!! waiting to get sad

Thus i thot lets blabber a bit randomly.....

let me admit at first I have a peculiarly bad habit on evesdroppin oders conversation....in bus stops, restaurants and parks....wen i m alone i m drawn to oder's convos....

And if u try doin it...u will be amused dat how funny they are....
Disclaimer: All the characters below and events are real and they happend in front of my eyes!! So if u r one of the characters in those events.Dunt mind. Shit Happens!! I have kept the dialogues in Hindi as they were told to retain the flavor :D

Location: Chai shop behind my college

Characters: Few guys frm our college prolly...dunno!!

Guy1: "abbe chetan bhagat ka one night @ call center para"

Guy2: "wo kaun hai"

Guy3:"arre ise kuch pata nahi.bahut sahi writer hai"

Guy1:"kafi sahi book kai. mai kal se 4 page par liya.wo train me ja raha hota hai. summer train. ek ladki se milta hai.to wo use bolta hai ki mai writer hoon. aur uska 1st book kya tha....haan kuch 3 mistakes.....wo bolta hai uske bare me"

Guy2: "sahi be....ladki kaisi thi!!"

Guy3:"arre uska kuch movie bhi aa raha hai...'hello' naam hai shayad."

Guy2:"bhag...wo to kabka release ho gaya...kuch aur hai....mai to kal hi bookstore jake uske charo book order de diya....mere full collection ban jayega"

*****************

Location: Cigarette Shop (By some eerie coincidence all of india's cigarette-pan wala hav a best friend who is inevitably chai-wala!!! And dey talk abt evrything frm politics to poultry!!)

Characters:Cigarette wala (A) and Pan wala(B)

The conversation was in Hindi and Oriya mix....I translated Oriya to Hindi!!

B: "arre ek naya oriya filam lagi hai... 2012...kal dekh aaya"

A:"wo angrezi filam hai.....oriya nahi....dubbin ki hai"

B:"ooo...par sahi movie hai....dikhata hai duniya 2012 me khatam ho jayega"

A:"ye sab jhut dikhate hai"

B:"nahi...sahi me!! wo ek movie thi na...titanic...uski tarah duniya kahatam ho jayega....mai to pura dar gaya"

A nd B both hurriedly lighting cigarette

A:"isse aacha to hai cigarette pee ke hi mar jaye"

******************

Location: Train to Kolkata...meant to be reserved....more crowded than general!!

Characters: Two guys stayin in some hostel

Guy1: "Arre aaj mess me mai aur prakash gaye the....wahan abhi paisa dene par ek coupon dete hai meal ka"

Guy 2: "accha"

Guy1:"mere coupon me 'M' likha tha....par prakash aake bola...abe yaar tere me M likha hai par mere me 'W' kyun likha hai!!"

Guy1:" main coupon dekha fir bola....abe gadhe tere me bhi M likha hai....tune coupon ulta pakra tha"

*********************

Location: Same train as above.....now more crowded...and a guy fallin over me....me disgusted

Characters: Uncle and Cousin

Uncle: "Tune seat kaise chod diya....??"

Cousin:" Arre mujhe toilet jana tha...aake dekha seat le liya"

Uncle:" Arre gadhe aise koi toilet jata hai....itni lagi thi to yahan newspaper bichake karna tha na!!"

Me(Almost loud): "Wat the fuck!!!"

------------------------

Guess wat!!!! I got my 1st award....yay!!!!

Thanks Chandni for considering me :D

Now as per rules....7 things dat no one knows abt me!!!
1> Most of da mornings I wake up wid a hard on and lose 5 mins convincing myself dat its only mornin...no need to get excited (**cummon no disgusted luks...u ppl wanted to kno!!)

2>I stole a 20 bucks wala cold drinks bottle frm our college canteen....(ohh cummon...he overcharges!!! and if ur da canteen wala, I am just boasting...how cn u even imagine i wud steal frm u)

3>Dere was a language skill class in college long time bak...we were supposed to giv speech on our idol.....I choose "Himesh Reshmmiya" (I still remember da face of da teacher and whole class fr dose 5 mins...horrified to core.....dunt worry Himesh is not my idol....maybe Anu Malik is!!)

4>Till class 7th or 8th I thot engineers are ppl who drove rail engines...and cudnt figure out why it was so coveted....its just lame ass drivin!!!...(hah!!! now i am studying engineering)

5>The farewell gift I gave to my class teacher after 10th... was actually bought by a frnd of mine to propose to his crush....sad fr him he got rejected.. :D (cummon...nyways he ws gonna throw dat away!)

6>I actually went to see RGV ki Aag....and sat thru the whole movie....(I cudnt speak dat whole evenin)

7>I can fly....(wats dat look...see now u dont trust me...u trusted me fr all of da above...nd not fr dis...how mean)

Now as per rules I pass on this award to those few who truly write frm heart...in tru spirit of bloggin...

1>Shreya: Creativ maximus....she has her way wid words...and she writes her heart out!!!

2>Orange: i adore her wen she ponders...coz she ends up askin such questions dat we all fail to answer.....she dares to ask!!!

3>Bliss: I wait fr her comments..coz apart frm me rarely nyone reads my post wid so much sensitivity....she writes less...but writes wat she feels...unadulterated

4>Raghav: He black paints darkness....switch off da lights...and read some of his scribblings...darkness will engulf u!!!

5>Annie:coz she is da magical maiden...coz wen i see ny new post frm her....i keep it to read at da end of da day...coz i am sure...she will always make me smile at da end!!

6>All my oder new blog frnds and very old blog frnds who knos how much i love dem....u know how precious u ppl are....and ur comments are!!!...cheers!!!

And finally, the rules for you guys out there:

1) List 7 things about yourself that nobody know.

2) Pass on this award to 7 other people.

3) Comment on their blog and let them know that they are tagged.

Yea....I boast!!!::

"BF : There is a very peculiar character in his writing. He says more than what he 'needs' to say. I wouldn't. But he does."

-Chandni

Seat belt

2009-10-29T18:51:00.004+05:30

He dint knew the name of the road, neither did he cared. Slowly he walked. Staring at his shadow slowly circling around him, as he passed under the array of street lights. His dark alter-ego dwarfing and elongating, as if replaying his life.

In never really cold in Calcutta, but the fog was dense. Moon looked hazy, but beautiful.

A drop of blood trickled down from his forehead and got stuck in his eyebrow.

------------

'We should have started early'

'I know, and it’s the 10th time you are saying this'

'Huh, but what’s the use, Arijit. You had to see sunset at the beach. So did your sun do a little tap dance before it set’, Neera replied.

'Come on it was beautiful, the changing colours of the sky. In Calcutta sky is always dull grey, don’t you get bored of it'

'No, I have better things to get bored of'

------------

The pain was setting in. But he refused to acknowledge it. Slowly he limped forward.

Occasional cars zoomed past him. He wished they switch off their headlights. The glare irritated him.

Arijit searched his pockets. The cigarette packet was still there, but crumpled.

He took a broken cigarette and lighted it.

------------

Arijit's dwarfed Maruti desperately tried to keep pace with the mammoth Lorries overtaking him.

The loneliness of highway was luring him with its overflowing breeze.

Neera looked visibly bored.

'Why don’t you put the seat belt?'Neera asked

'Is there any check post out here?'

'No, but seat belts are not meant for check post, it’s more about something called safety'

'Yea right, as if they don’t tie me enough on Calcutta roads. Let me be free here at least'

'Whatever' She replied, tightening her seat belt a bit.

------------

Few urchins huddled near the burning garbage. The raw smell of burning plastic nauseated him a bit.

But he hobbled towards the fire for the welcome heat.

With his dusty torn clothes, he dint attracted much attention.

------------

'Call Montu da and order sum dinner. I think there is nothing left in fridge' she said

'No network dear. Don’t worry we will parcel something on the way'

'Uff, I don’t wanna have outside food again. Let’s go home we will manage something.'

The fog was turning dense. The sharp glare of passing Lorries turned into distant aura of light.

Mist seeping in through the windows filled him with a musky smell earth.

------------

His head was slowly clearing up. Thoughts and pain rushed to fill the emptiness inside him.

He resisted. He wanted to be void.

He looked at his watch. A shard of glass was stuck between the hands of time. A desperate attempt to stop time.

9:12 it read.

-------------

'What is the time?'

'God, look in your own wrist watch would you' he replied

'Cummon I like when you tell me the time!!’ she smiled

'OK weirdo!! Its 9:10 or something' he tried to read the time.

The light of an approaching lorry suddenly engulfed him. Night turned into day it seemed.

He pushed the brake hard, bit too hard.

A snap.

The car got mind of its own.

The lorry sped away. It was darkness all over again.

The screech of the burning tyre broke the silence.

'Jump out of the car' he screamed to her.

He jumped out of the door and glanced back.

She was struggling to open her seat belt.

Death smiled. Life apologised.

The crunch of the breaking window panes.

The car turned once. Then twice.

The hungry flames lighted the vast fields of harvested wheat.

Smell of burning flesh confirmed.

-------------

He stared at the dying flame of the fire. He sat alone.

The urchins and the mongrels huddled around another garbage bin on fire.

It was going to be a long cold night.

Tomorrow he will cry.
Tomorrow he will burn in guilt for rest of his life.
Tomorrow he will accept pity and listen to those sugar-coated lies.
But tonight he will live for one last time.

Tonight he was allowed to shed just

One Drop of Tear!!

P.S: Tried to keep it short dis time....hope it not too cramped :)

...And then Love!!

2009-10-11T15:38:00.004+05:30

The crispness of panjabi kurta was long lost. Sweat is an uninvited friend in this perennial humidity of Calcutta. The chaos was getting on his nerves. Still he managed a bleak smile to those unknown guests lost on their way to the Buffet room.

Standing at his own wedding Sudeep felt as a total stranger. Everything happened so fast. His travel consultancy business was just holding grip when the news of his mother's throat cancer shook him.

He couldn't muster courage to confront her when his mother asked him to marry her best friend's daughter.

He always believed there will be plenty of time to fall in love after he made something out of himself. Love cheated him.

He lighted a cigarette standing on the balcony.

------------

Someone was kind enough to turn the table fan towards her.

Sitting at centre of the hall under the critical eyes of hundreds she silently cursed every drop of sweat that made her twitch.

She never thought that the day she dreamt about all these years will turn out to be such a nightmare. She longed to get out of this heavy Benarasi sari.

As other upper middle class daughters Anindita was convent educated. But still in her family, politics and freedom was something women were never trusted with.

She never dreamt of falling in love. It was all very filmy. All she wanted was to get out of that monotonous past of hers to a liberal present.

She never really had any conversations with Sudeep but he seemed decent. But how could she really know? She trusted her parents. But he is a complete stranger.

She looked around. Where is he?

----------

'So, are u comfortable here?' Sudeep asked, unsure if he should open his kurta in presence of a woman or not.

'Yes' Anindita replied trying to keep the fear hidden in her voice.

How she wished she got a bigger suitcase from home to hide herself inside it.

'So how was your dinner?'

'Nice....and yours?' she asked

'Yes, nice too...I mean good'

'I will be leaving for Delhi tomorrow evening...just for 2 days....work....will u be fine?'

In midst of this chaos, this office tour came as a welcome relief to him. He so desperately wanted to get away and rethink this whole situation.

She nodded. She was not really sure what was she supposed to do. She recalled how her mother packed her father's luggage before every such trip.

Maybe she could go to her home for 2 days. She felt a bit relieved.

Suddenly the double bed felt so cramped. They tried to stick to the edge of the bed making sure not to touch each other. The silence was broken by the whining of the ceiling fan and the soft rustle of her sari.

'So are u comfortable here?' he asked.

------------
He looked so innocent when he is asleep, she thought.

She sat silently and watched a thin smile play on his lips along the rhyme of his dreams.

He was curled up in the corner of his bed as if guarding his secrets of the night from the cruel sunlight.

He felt a soft nudge on his shoulder. But somehow it seemed to go along with his dream.

Then he heard his name but the voice was different.

'Its 9 already, your mother asked me to wake u up’, she said.

'Oh...yes...soorry...hmm...hi...I mean good morning'

She smiled.

She was combing her wet hair and he realised he never really looked at her till now.

The tiny little drops of water shaken out of hair by the brutal pull of her comb formed a glittering aura around her shining in sunlight.

The pain in her face when a knotted hair got pulled and her struggle to hide it.

The soft fresh smell of turmeric from yesterday was still there and she justified it.

She is beautiful.

-------------

Sealdah Railway Station has been an epitome of confusion for every Calcuttan. Nobody gets there direction right for the first time.

In midst of the flowing crowd of Office returning people it was hard to find the platform for Rajdhani.

Anindita secretly regretted her decision to come to the station to drop Sudeep. But she was getting tired of the constant pampering she had to deal with morning onwards at that house.

Sudeep's cousin was too busy figuring out the coach number. Sudeep slowed down to catch up with her.

He saw the horror in her eyes and smiled.

Sudeep held her hand. But as soon as he did, he regretted not asking her permission.

Then he slowly felt the grip of her fingers around her palm. He could feel the flow of her blood. He could feel the throb of her heartbeat.

They walked towards the train. The crowd has slowly thinned. But he forgot to lose his grip.

The train was about to leave. He suddenly regretted all the hassle for the trip. 2 days felt years. And he had so many new feelings to be felt.

The signal turned green. He loosened his grip, but her fingers kept holding his hand for a moment too long. A hesitation.

Her engagement ring left an impression on his palm. He wished it stayed for 2 more days.

He walked, and then ran. But climbed on the pedestal when he could not keep up with the speed of the train.

A last look into her eyes. She had so much to say, he wanted to listen, he promised to listen. But all her eyes could say was,

A drop of tear!

"Train roll on, on down the line
Won't you please take me far away
Now, I feel the wind blow outside my door
I leave my woman at home

Tuesday's gone with the wind
My baby's gone with the wind"

-Tuesday's Gone,Lynyrd Skynyrd

P.S: Wanted it to be shorter....but couldnt make it ny more short....hope its readable!!!

Howrah Bridge - 55 Fiction

2009-09-24T02:54:00.006+05:30

"My exams are going on...and i am thoroughly frustrated.So due to lack of time, decided to write my first 55 Fiction(itz a form of micro fiction to be limited under 55 words)....bear wid me "

Sweaty feet made railing sloppy.I looked back to life, saw traffic jam.

I jumped.

The blades of wind ripped my skin.My flesh bare.

Death promised more than life.

Suddenly ropes of life tightened over my chest.

A jerk!!

I was flying back to life.Death disappointed.

My first Bungee Jump from Howrah Bridge.

Monologue of a dying Cigarette

2009-09-09T03:34:00.004+05:30

A kiss of your lips,
a guilty look in your eyes.
Your tight gripping fingers,
lost hopes realised.

Sudden stroke of your thumb
and ashes of sorrow falls by.
The light headed look,
now you are floating in the sky.

Let me be your failures.
Let me be those lies.
Let me be the key,
to your lost paradise.

The fire in my heart,
is burning your pain.
Let me be your last,
promise me never again.

Am I death?
as the wise men say.
Or just a nail,
in the coffin of pain u lay.

Lying on the roadside,
crushed and bruised.
I am dying your death,
as u and another me walks away.

-Me or my cigarette

P.S: I personally found it too rhyming for my comfort....lemme kno ur views :)

Funny thing called Love

2009-08-28T22:18:00.003+05:30

It was the last cigarette of the packet. It’s funny how the last cigarette suddenly feels so costly as if compensating for the rest 9 of the burned ashes, he thought. His fingers now had a distinct smell of nicotine and sweat accumulated over the years.

For Animesh the lanes of Esplanade was a respite, the crowd seems to live his lost happiness on his behalf. The relentless clatter kept his mind calm, it was his own thoughts he feared the most.

He edged towards thirty but looked a lot older. Pollution he blamed. But somewhere down the rat race it was life that cheated him. Dreams were traded for reality. Promises he made to himself were long broken. A low paying job that took care of his addiction was enough for him. His eyes had the darkness of a dying person reminiscing.

His most evenings were spent in those dingy old bookstores in the back lanes surfing through sleazy crime novels. He hoped he may someday find his own story printed somewhere there. But it was too dark in there for him to find.

He walked slowly trying to make circles of smoke with his mouth. Then suddenly, a glimpse. He stopped and scanned the crowd again. Maybe he was imagining things.

Then she saw her, on New Market junction. She was still the same; bruises of life seemed to have escaped her. He was about to call her but his voice failed. The past came rushing to fill the vacuum

----------

Sitting in some un-named park in central Calcutta.

'Promise me we will always stay together’, Trina said.

'We will' It was her innocent rhetorical questions that still amused him 3 years after he met her.

He could see his future. He believed in himself.

By thirty a nice apartment in South Calcutta, those which have a park for kids to play. A happy job in one of those promising high rises coming up in his city.

After all he is an engineer, who could resist him.

And then there was Trina. All he could ever want. She always looks so pretty in blue and she knew that too.

Love is the warmth of her cheek on his shoulder. Love is her long soft fingers that so tightly gripped his hand, that sometime hurts but he wouldn’t admit. Love is that unknown perfume that she never disclosed she used. She is love.

-----------

'Do you love me?' she asked

'Yaaa' he said slightly irritated, those useless questions of her bothered him. It was 4 years of their relationship.

This was a great opportunity for him. Working at the head office in Mumbai. After all that’s where he could make all contacts that can accelerate his promotion.

'In India opportunities means compromise' his father used to say.

And he wasn’t leaving for good. Within 2 years he will be back with her and with a better life. Why can’t she understand?

----------

'Maybe we should break-up' Trina said on phone

'Maybe we should' he replied.

They haven’t met for over a year. Sometimes it was hard to recall her face. Shopper’s Stop dint kept her perfume.

He couldn't believe that she can leave him. His ego was hurt. He knew he could stop her from abandoning him, but why should he?

It wasn’t his fault; all he wanted is his career to shine enough to light both of their lives. Is that a crime?

----------

Trina stopped calling long ago. But she took something from him. He still could not figure out what. But it hurts.

Mumbai is so lonely. Every Sunday lots of family comes to crowded Juhu Beach to make sand castles. There happiness mocked him now.

She is also sad, he tries to reason himself. Hah!! Whom am I kidding?

------------

They said he had lost the edge; they have to let him go. He smirked.

He had nothing to pack. Mumbai was never his home. It was just a stop-over.

All he was worried about how he is going to spend 30 hours in train without smoking. Smoking Kills!!!

-------------

He followed her through the crowd of Esplanade. She looks happy he thought satisfyingly. Maybe she is happily married now.

A pang of jealousy shot thorough him quickly subsided by a feeling of fulfilment. He loved her so much he realised.

He thought if he should call her name, but den he saw the cigarette butt in his fingers. He had changed a lot, for worse.

He would just get her sympathy now, he didn’t deserved love anymore.

Love is her unmanaged hair through which she runs her fingers.

-------------

She was suddenly lost in crowd. But this time he did not tried to find her. He quietly turned towards the approaching tram. Its slow pace was something he could relate to.

-------------

Trina suddenly stopped in front of that dimly lit store. A blue salwar kameej displayed caught her attention. She remembered the sparkle in eyes of Animesh whenever she wore blue.

Love was in his arms that once held her tight. Love was his eyes that used to stare her for hours. Love was his voice that filled her heart. He was love.

A Drop of Tear!!

The Day Earth Moved To and Fro!!

2009-08-08T02:23:00.004+05:30

Firstly.....

DRINKING IS INJURIOUS TO HEALTH!!!!!

SMOKING KILLS!!!

SNIFFING UNKNOWN CHEMICALS FROM MYRIAD SOURCES MAKES U RETARD!!!!

AND DOIN ALL THREE SIMULTANEOUSLY....WELL TAKE A GUESS!!!

ok ok!!! now forget all dese....coz dat night i dint remember dis too....

8.30 pm:

world is still a happy place....ppl sings....enjoys...and i can still figure out my left hand from right!!!

da auto arrives....dunt give me cheapo luks...its rourkela!!

9.30 pm:
well by sheer luck we can manage sum space at da lounge...our very own booth....well yea it was lill cramped...but adjust yaaar!!!

10.00pm:

my sore throat lost da battle against da chilled beer....and slowly gave in....no more fits of cough...

and a cheered beer bottoms-up round (**performed under controlled environment...dunt try at home...visit ur nearest bar!!!)

world slowly turned into a lill to bright....but still happier place....ppl smokes more dan sings....

10.15 pm:

apparently we were supposed to stop now!!....well if we had...den we wud hav had a nice dinner..and came bak and slept....but we dint....u see!!!

10.30 pm:

do u kno a funny thing abt whisky.....never hav it raw...on da rocks...and especially after havin beer....

wolrd is a bullry palce....ppl dirnks oops...sings...and movsss sloooolllyyy

10.45pm:

devil may care!!! may not....but devil shots does.....

never have booze shots in a silent dinner party!!!...well it remains not so silent....

woldr ishh a sahdy place....ppl skoms nd sniffs!!!!

(***rest of da following events r recollection of my flashes of memory and other sources***)

11:00pm:

we are apparently out of lounge in our table...foods are apparently served!!! and believe it or not...we maybe ate it...well nice dinner huh!!!

11.20pm:

we were supposed to stop drinkin isnt it!!!...well guess wat....we dint!!!

man!!! alcohol tastes sweet!!!or does it!!

11.30pm:

i actually attempted to match our enormous bill...to things we had...well i faild to remember...dunno why....

man!!! y cant i walk straight!!!

btw remember....wash basin is fr washin hands....toilet is fr peein....now i am not suggestin nythin thou!!!

12.00 am:
we successfully landed at our destination.....hugged our nightgaurds....and totally managed to exchanged a fag for a biri...trust me on dis

01.00 am:

Q: why did a guy named Pawan K. Jhonke managed to goto Pakistan widout ny restriction

A:"Panchi nadiya pawan k jhonke.....koi sarhad na inhe rooke"

well i kno u found it disgustin....but dat time we dint....we laughed on dis sittin on top of sum roof we dunt remember climbin...

02.00 am:
i was confused why my left hand is on da left side of my body and wat will happen if i had a right hand in left side of my body instead...yea...u get da picture!!!

03.00 am:

well we may not sing well!!!...but we sing loud!!! and so thou after disgusted looks by oder sane ppl in our vicinity...we sang...umm...we shouted and tried to sing.....

by now my once-upon-a-time-sore-throat....was plannin an action plan fr future!!!(wich i am facin currently)

04.00 am:
an omelette just off da oven is supposed to be hot and can burn ur fingers!!!

hah!!! its just a myth i found it just warm!! and tasty ofcourse!!!

05.00 am:

i tried to drink water....i tried to make my bed.....but my bed was swaying...i hardly managed to hold it....climb in...buckle me up...so dat i dunt fall in da vast space over wich we were flying....and i slept in midst of zoomin meteors!!!phew!!!

02:00 pm(next afternoon):
my clothes r all white by lime dust...i am half off my bed....and my head was conduction a nuclear explosion test!!!

i can hardly move my hands.....and why da fuck is my fingers tips burned!!!

I looked at you and....

2009-07-01T02:08:00.004+05:30

you said 'Hold me tight'
like the sky holds quivering starlight.
like the darkness holds,
a lonely tree highway side.

you said 'Add colors to my life'
The reds of the Mediterranean,
The blues of the Niles
and bit of grey of my Calcutta sky.

you said 'Walk with me'
in the melting heat on the concrete streets.
Hand in hand so tight,
even the sweat fails to trickle by.

you said 'Be my sunshine'
Scattered in the morning mist,
a secret warmth,clandestine.

you said 'Hide me from those judgemental eyes'
we reclaimed our darkness,
in the glare of neon lights.
the mute night stands alibi.

Then you said 'goodbye'
a drop of tear from the black sky.
occasional wind fail to stir the leaves.
hush, can you listen her lost lullaby?

-Me wid a dash of romanticism

She-Pee-Amm

2009-05-27T01:33:00.005+05:30

dey came...dey conquered...(well ya sometimes by riggin polls...buts dats ok!!)....dey destroyed a state....and well....now dey got whupped by Mamata di....phew!!

mom dirt and homo sapiens (well i m pretty sure dat means same as maa mati manush)....congo....u won....how?? well i dunt hav a clue!!

"Is Jyoti Basu a man or a woman???....it is a woman's name!!!"

dat was my 1st proper question to my dad about Bengal Politics or CPM...or Bengal politics...well was it ny different???!!

well i must admit i always hav soft corner fr communist.....

cmmon....'comrades' is way too cool.....and also da fact dat if all two faced hypocrite bongs hated dem....how cud dey always win???

equations did changed now...."Tata" communists...catch ya later....

so as our leftists(man...i hope dey use dere right hand while eatin!!) make stage fr a quick disappearance....i go down to investigate....hows thing gonna change fr us...

1> mastermoshai: "potka...y ish eur homewuark not complete...??" potka: "yeshterday bangla bondh sir"

well potka....get a new xcuse....bangla is no more gettin closed....

2> mom to son(in recent future) : "soja mere munna....nahin to mamata di will scream....!!"

well guys...more scream therapy fr next 5 yrs....

government sucked....she screamed.....people died....she screamed....Tata took lands....well!! she screamed......elections began...she screamed....she won.....ahhh!! she had a bad throat!!!

3> Hungry Kya!!

till 3 yrs ago...for Bengalis....McDonald was a dumb American...and Kentucky was Wild West....

wake up babey!!....no more egg rolls from Montu da's Fast Food......wid no more RED on da horizon....its sholoanna burgeriana....!!

4>Its a frog....Its a Tasmanian devil....its "Nano".....

well nano-giri..is da new gandhi-giri....get one of those soon...

5> Hands of gods....

well ....da news is....da communists r feelin dat star quotient is absent frm dere election campaign...

come nxt elections.....maradona will be our very next potential MLA....he is langotia yaar of subhas-da...

dunno my fellow bongs wat future holds fr us....but surely da present sucks!!!

"She-Pee-Amm will be back....yeu know....communishm ish in awar bilaad...."

-overheard an old man in metro rail

too much...too soon

2009-05-06T01:26:00.004+05:30

I am confused...
or maybe realised too much too soon.

a line of thought too fast to read,
or even understand.
a flickering image of something so known,
yet so vaguely dormant.

I have lost the scale of happiness,
not that I am sad.
but could I even realise that.
After all sorrows and ecstasies are same play
just different acts.

I cant remember her smell
hard I try more I fail.
all I recall is her fleeting glance
trust i lost formalities sans.

I from my morning blues,
through late afternoon and evenings too.
parting my hair is my mother's nail
a touch I know will leave someday.

I am loosing the fear of pain.
the trust in god,
also comfort of blame.
an erratic mind to comfort.
an ailing body to sustain.

-me or a looser who desperately tries to be me

Shut up and dance!!

2009-04-10T00:57:00.005+05:30

Dancing like mad in a group dance : !!check!!

yea cummon....i m sure u also have a list of things u want to do before u die....those freaky things abt which u had silent fantasies in night ...those emotional vows that u gave urself every time u fell and thought that this is the moment u will change urself....those angry revenges u planned so vivaciously for da guy who ran away wid ur date.....!!!

well atleast fr me 1 got checked off da list!!! yipeee!!

so da occasion was our hall day...wid overrated food and high bass music system....

and da best thing oder dan dancing madly is watchin ppl dancing madly....u can see a person whole emotion coming out....unrestricted....pure....and sometimes...ahem...ugly!!!

but i noticed u can group dem into few categories...and it do tell lots abt dere character:

1>Party Starter: dey r da self-presumed-cool-dudes of da group.....and dey always need to keep one step ahead as a measure of dere coolness...so as soon as da drumroll beings...dey r on da floor...thou dey dunt do much of dancing....dere main objective is pulling dere not so interested partners on da floor and get lost in crowd!!!

2>Touch-me-nots:dey r da ppl who r found on da periphery of da dance floor....all dey can manage is lill hip groove and claps....loads of claps....as soon as u invite dem to dance...dey will blush away...but nevertheless dey will stay at dat periphery awaitin more invitation to reject!!

3>1-man-band: dey r mostly in da centre stage....closed eyes...and drenched in own or oders sweat!!....dey r totally frustrated wid life....and want to dance as vigorously as dey shag off!!....behind dere closed eyes dey r wid aishwarya in da valleys of Ooty...dey mostly end up wid asthma attacks!!

4>toy-train-runners: yes....u have dem evrywhere....dey dunt kno a dime abt dancing....dey dunt have faintest idea dat dey suck in dancing....all dey can do is make annoyin human trains wid dere fellow train-runners and stamp through ppls feet over da dance floor....ouch!!! mine feet hurts even now!!! assholes!!

5>body-vibrators: dey r da friendly guys on da floor....all dey do is vibrate dere odd body parts occasionally and keep welcomin newcomers to da floor and bid goodbye to those leavin....dey stay till da end...wen da DJ requests dem to get da fuck off da floor...nd keeps wonderin...why??

6>territorial groups: dey r da late joiners....dey always find dere own territory on da floor and shows all dere monkey dance on dat labelled region....rest of da floor is alien to dem...and incase some one wanders off ...he can be found in a state of shock at da end of da party....totally lost!!!

7>hippie dancers: dey r probably da best dancers of da floor...and dey feel sorry for we lesser mortals....so all dey do is go to person to person...shows dem some steps to keep dem engaged for rest of da evenin....nd carries on!!....long live hippies!!!

8>worthless commenters: dey r da useless of all...dey sit in a far corner away from da dance floor...and all dey do is comment on oder ppls dancin style....but silently covets abt burnin da dance floor....hey wait a sec!!!...dat sounds like me!! ohh hell wid me!!!

so as i was outwardly laughin and inwardly coveting abt da whole situation....my fellow frnd commenter Anubhav( anubhavrath.blogspot.com ) said those golden words.....

"I always wanted to dance madly in situation like dis....but i guess i am too shy"

and dats all i needed....wat followed is a fierce realisation of our dreams....on non-understandable vulgar Oriya tracks....and rest was sweaty!!!! really sweaty!!!

"We're fools whether we dance or not, so we might as well dance."

-Japanese Proverb

So Dark The Con of Man

2009-03-24T22:13:00.004+05:30

have u ever embraced darkness??

yea i kno sounds funny...but if ur a person like me, who loves da darkness of darkness....u kno xactly wat i mean....

we both share a black heart...and r selfish enuf to love our self in da blanket of dark....

few days ago the hostel authorities gt bored nd decided to play wid us wid a long midnite power cut....xcept for da fact it was all hot nd sweaty nd i dint had much battery backup in my lappy :(

i went out to explore....

da first thing abt darkness is u realise importance of ur eyes....and in its absence how ur all oder senses get alerted....

every sound is magnified nd sppoky.....da tossing of my roommate in bed, da frequent beep in nearby rooms in a attempt to keep dere mobile screen glowin...

walking through the corridors...u can hear snippets of conversation in da passin rooms which u always so conveniently ignored earlier....

have u seen da nite sky in those hours of darkness...i can bet dere is nothin more beautiful in dis world dan dat....xcept Anne Hathaway of course....

how da black sky turns grey in a split of a second da darkness befalls.....nd all everythin turns into a mere black outline in da canvas....big trees....imposing building...walking men....all turns into a mere black shadow...

its da way da dark disguises u....turns ur face into a sheath of black veil....and u always keep guessin da expression

nyways tired i cam bak to bed to my singin mosquitoes.....dey love to entertain me.....nd kept openin nd closin my eyelid tryin to figure da difference in da degree of darkness...

yea...i m wierd....gudnite!!!

"Darkness is to space what silence is to sound, i.e., the interval." -Marshall McLuhan

Anatomy of Failure

2009-03-12T01:14:00.007+05:30

wat is it wid human nd failure....da way we hate it...despise it....run away frm it....

i dunno who was dat gr8 guru who justified dat winnin is good nd loosing is bad....but if u happen to find him...pls slap him on behaf of me....he just made all our life miserable.....

I am a big failure in my life.....but look, I am as proud as dat nude slum kid shittin in side of da road nd staring at u wid da confident mind-ur-own-business look....

ya ya...now u will say its his blog nd all so he is jst showing off.....

1stly....it is my blog dear...so i can show off...

nd 2ndly... I am not showing off....its just happens to be da fact..

I particularly dunt feel suicidal as my fellow classmates wen dey score "0" in class test....

I dunt get embarrassed nd all wen a gal givs me...who-gav-him-da-right-to-be-so-ugly look....

nd I m pretty proud of my fat reserves...makes me feel comfortable abt ny future famine....

but i dunt understand why dis simple things freaks out most of da ppl....cmmon....if a person makes fun of me....it can have only 2 reasons...either he is insecure of me....or he is trying to show himself off....he doesn't have ny particular grudges against me....

nd if it helps him...its fine wid me....

actually accrdin to me....humans r better off as failures....its our ultimate goal.....we r da catalysts of destruction.....always runnin around to increase da entropy nd all.....yeaa!!! i discussed some science shit....cummon roll ur eyes!!!

nd more da failure ur...more fun is ur life.....nd ur better off

1> Bill Gates: Windows sucks!!!...he is richest!!

2>Ambani bros: Reliance connection sucks....again rich!!

3>Himesh Reshmiyya: Well!!!!

4>Deve Gowda: slept thru his PM term.....no controversy PM

5>Danny Boyle:Slumdog......8 oscars :P

6>NIT Rourkela Electrical faculty: no comments!!!

so cant we just be proud nd happy abt our failures....accepting it as da way dey r.....like our ex-Indian cricket team....(ya i acknowledge the current one isnt dat bad!!)

thou i promise u doin all dis wont make u successful or nything....u will continue to be a failure...but at least a happy one!!! :-)

so make it ur motto to congratulate urself nxt time u fail....coz i m always dere wid u.....

nd thou i kno u will forget all dis nd continue to be miserable in ur life....i just wrote it coz it will make my blog luk gud.... ;)

'Have you ever seen a one-legged dog making its way down the street?
If you've ever seen a one-legged dog then you've seen me

Then you've seen me, I come and stand at every door
Then you've seen me, I always leave with less than I had before
Then you've seen me, bet I can make you smile when the blood, it hits the floor
Tell me, friend, can you ask for anything more?'

-The Wrestler,Bruce Springsteen

maTure matter

2009-02-16T23:13:00.007+05:30

"As we maTure our relationship maTures with us"

-Marshall, How I Met Your Mother

me as a child always wanted me to be da matured man....ideally dad-like....always givin assurances and buying the tickets...and i am sure its been da case with mostly all of us...

all of us at sometimes of dere childhood had brushed dad's razor over our cheeks and wishin beard pops overnite.....nd tried to taste tiny sip of drink frm his glass..wen he isnt looking and kept a straight face wen our mouth was burning....in short...each one of us has tried to grow up...

but did we really grew up anytime??? did any mornin we were short for our pants....

never happnd 2 me at least....days passed and we stopped wanting to grow up so desperately...we secretly started to like da laid back attitude of our childhood...

den BAM!! somebody tells u dat yes...u r mature and its about time u start to act like one....dress like one and be a eloquent two faced bastard like one...

so wat is exactly being mature!!! how can u distinguish dat person in a crowd..

Ahh well!! few tests r dere:

1>He/She never uses the words like 'yes' or 'no'...its always 'maybe', 'i will try my level best' or 'i hope not'......we r bunch of no-risk-takers who always plays safe keepin all option open

2>He/She is always jealous of u...nd believe me most of da time da kicks u get frm dem in ur ass are of frustration....but will always keep dat sweet-poison smile and give u a "hearty" congratulation for ur success....

3>He/She is still loves to have dat candy-bar frm dat they-make-ice-cream-frm-drain-water ice cream wala....but will roll their eyes nd make fun abt how people even dare to think abt havin dem

4>He/She still loves da window seat at the bus...nd wen dey graciously ask u to go and have da seat...dey r literally stabbing you in our thoughts...scary huh!!

5>And lastly wen u grab out dat extra candy from their pocket thinkin its ur birth-right...well hello!!

actually wen a guy says he has grown mature all he means is dat he has started to have underarm hair.....rest all is an illusion

a frnd of mine always keeps me asking, "Why I am not as mature as rest??"

All I can say is 'coz u have guts to face da world and dunt need to pretend like rest of us'.

just under our fake skin we r all dat selfish fat-ass bully who used to steal ur tiffin in primary school.

And it is us u trust with ur every thing....ur freedom...ur tax money....and ur patriotism....

God Bless u!!

"They got caught up in your talent show,
With you persnickety little bastards in your fancy dress,
Who just judge each other and try to impress"

-Wise men, James blunt

Salli Khushi!!

2009-02-07T00:01:00.003+05:30

Ahem!! Check 1 2 3....

yea...my hibernating season is over...so am bak....

and if ur concerned y was I ' long time no see!', dere r loads of factor leadin to it....namely

1>In da last one month i was drunk most evenins....so lukin thru my perspective i m not gone

fr long...

2>I was concerned why our director is such a pain in arse.....nowadays he is only givin lectures to Osama, LeT nd Raj Thackrey on new methods of torture....

3>I again tried to analyse wat worthful things i did wid my life....all i cud figure was payin 20 bucks to Helpage India during skool

4>I spent a considerable chunk of time gettin lost in IIT Kgp campus....man it was scary!!!:P

5>and yes....obviously as my new year resolution was to learn to wear boxer underpants instead of briefs...hence i spent lots of time adjusting my assets to da new surroundings...

But gettin to da point...as we r all gettin adjusted and acquainted wid da new year....things r turnin out differently for me and Ramalinga Raju....

we both r facin da much awaited wrath of fate.....

be it da already availed grade bak in dis semester for my bunkotsav to da not so successful :P venture to IIT frm summer internship....things r goin 2 drain fr me....

luks like its gonna be a helluva year fr me...

summer uselessness and severe grade recession is soon to follow.....

but yes...i hav my laptop and bed to fall back on at da end of da day....literally...so who cares!!

"Dararein dararein Maathe pe maula

Maramat mukkadar ki kar do maula"

-Arziyan,Delhi 6

Jingle Balls,Jingle Balls, Jingle in da pants!!

2009-01-01T02:39:00.005+05:30

Happy New Year!!!

Ahhh....anoder year passed..and i hav to practice writin '09' instead of '08'....

So after a pretty decent party wid family....I am now alone in my room speculatin wat dis year holds for me....

it feels funny how dis year came to all of us.....for me on a footpath wid my ipod blaring nonsense in my ears.....for few of my frnds cursing ourselves fr not gettin drunk...for my galfrnd being too drunk to speak nonsense....

so all i do is to luk bak at dis now-past-year...and decide wat it impression it left on mine and our mind for our future

GOOD IMPRESSIONS:

1>Exactly a year ago...i was travellin to hostel missin my home...2day i am sittin at home missin my frnds.....2008 taught me to live alone happily....hmmm ...very happily

2>Meeting da woman of my life....ya...finally i met her...and 2008 taught me to be in love...wich is much better dan falling in it

3>Discovering the flavour of my life....omlette...cummon dunt giv me dat look.....its da only thing our mess-wallahs can cook well.....2008 taught me to value eggs...more dan hens..nd even cocks

4>Being comfortably numb.....yea...i was introduced to da dizziness of alcohol.....that was as decently i can put da phrase 'being drunk'....2008 taught me to booze...

5>Buddys for life.....dis year i met my best buddy.....my laptop.....he is my best hangout....and we also have some e-books stored to fool ourselves dat we can study if we like.......we hope to remain together forever....or till a better laptop model is out...2008 taught me how to waste time

BAD IMPRESSIONS:

1>Himesh Reshmiyya released his 2nd film.....yea i kno its sad

2>Sharmili became our permanent teacher.....things cudnt get any worse....2008 taught me dat for every bunch of hopeful engineers...dere is a hopeless sharmili

3>Our director's rumour abt retiring was turned out to be untrue....our only streak of hope abt happy college life was shattered

4>I got few very gud frnds....my best frnds....and why da hell is it a bad impression...coz wid da end of 2008 i will have only 2.5 years more to spend wid dem....2008 taught me gud things dunt last forever....bad things do

5>I lost very precious things this year....and wid those precious things i lost my blindfold from the pain of life and death...i realised...life is the hard way out....

So wid all dese impressions I step forward to 2009....maybe the last year when i can afford to be careless...

maybe da last year i can dream before beginin to work for it.....

maybe da last year to make a mistake and afford to forget it......

"Aankhon Mein Jis Ke Koi To Khwaaab Hai

Khush Tha Wahin Jo Thoda Betaaab Hai

Zindagi Mein Koi Arzooo Kijiye

Phir Dekhiye ……"

-Phir Dekhiye,Rock On!!

once again.....a VERRY HAPPY NEW YEAR!!

Chicken Soup for the Terrorist's Soul

2008-12-12T04:48:00.014+05:30

Terrorists.....thou not one of my favourite terms but most definitely one of the amusing terms....

Funny they are!!! Wat kind of ranks they mite have.....Asst.Terroriser, Terror commander,even...Terror-in-chief

The recent terror attacks on Mumbai had left many baffled,including me(thou the electrical machines paper da next day ws more terrifying)...but throughout a question lingered in my mind...

All through the last decade Kolkata....has been mysteriously kept out of the attacks.....why???

means cummon....arent we worthy enuf to come on national television for whole day???

dunt we want Barkha Dutt to jump around the stage praising our Kolkataites spirit??...ok i kno we dunt have any...but still...

and shudnt our very own Buddha da given a chance to quit as CM....man!! he looks

so tired???

But no...nobody wants to terrorise us.....nobody.....ok!! Mamata Bannerjee tries sometimes.....but not upto the mark!!

So in order to improve our Terror Tourism....i would like to introduce my quick look list...dat shud be handy to Lafter-e-Tauba or Deccan-Mujrahidden(cmmn...even dat IPL team wd similar name faild miserably...think of sumthin better nxt time)

So I sincerely urge terrorists to go through my list to top 5 places that should be a

nd shouldnt be targeted if they plan to attack us:

Top 5 places to be attacked:

5>Indian Museum: Yes!! dats the one place we suggest every tourist to visit.....but

believe me...we never visit it ourselves.....even dat forsaken mummy inside the museum is sometimes found boozin in park street...so wats da pointof having it.....blast it off!! atleast it will

help to open up few more much required pubs...

4>Mamata Baneerjee's Residence:no no dont worry.....she wont bite you....but be careful not to get caught....all she needs to do is yell

3>Abandoned Tata factory: thou the Singur battle is long over.....nd tatas got new land in gujrat...Mamata-di got tha vote bank.....and CPM got nothin....never mind...dey never get nythin...did nyone cared to demolish the factory fr which all dis took place...so i urge da terrorist

to do dis gud work

2>Lalbazar: translated to "Red Market"....no no...it isnt some cheap 'whore house' i m talkin abt....its actually da kolkata police HQ...yea nt much difference...i knw it.....pls blast it...atleast wil giv dem an excuse fr non perfo

rmance..

1>Writer's Building: coming close second to CIA headquarters...its a place that has mystified people for long...nobody knows

what happens inside it...not even the people inside....and everyone is confused why its is even named so...nobody writes anything inside it afterall....

Top 5 places not to be attacked:

5>central park:well also known as lover's park......i seriously dunt have ny qualms against it....bt da point is u wont get ny free "jhari ke peeche" to hide ur RDX...its either booked by hopeless lovers....or sadists watchin those hoepless lovers...so dunt waste ur time....

4>Metro Railways: if ur sooo interested in stppin transport system...why dunt jst call a bandh...wats da point of all dis blast nd fanfare....learn fr we bongs sometimes.....

3>Alipore Zoo: recently da last two stray dogs caged inside posing as white tigers also broke out....i think its da only zoo in da world lovd by maneka gandhi....so wats da point of blasting it off....

2>Nandan:Dare u do it....ass hole....da only place i can watch movies in Dev Anand ke

jamaane ke rates....if u do it.....i promise i will put u in 2 bak 2 bak screenin of Karzzzz....

1>Jyoti Basu's Residence: Haha!!!....fools .....he is 94 and even Mamata Banerjee cudnt kill him.....u seriosly wanna waste ur Ammo...

P.S If ur wondering why i m such a moron....it makes 2 of us...

Wrapping up in a hurry!!!

2008-11-16T00:34:00.005+05:30

so this was it!!!

anoder semester over!!!! anoder set of 4 blissful months gt cataloged in the rusty vaults of memory to be blabbered unceremoniously in frnt of my kids

here i am wrapping it all up in a sweet overview....fr u nd fr my future kids

prologue:

haha...things were funny frm beginning.....we were taught

pigeonhole principle:

the smaller da pigeonhole...i mean..room....more the number of ppl share it....

Rights for insects act:

no extra charges can be taken from the residing insects....and any derogatory action will be severely herpes-ecated

impossible is nothing theory:

nilabjendu and debaditya can share a single room......believe it or not.....

The revenge of Sharmili:

and u thought it was all over in 1st semester....she returned and dis time she was dumber den ever.....and with her annoying smirk,she came to teach electrical machines....she is on da verge of killing us...so if u dont get any further posts frm me.....u kno whom to blame

The Lift that was:

again u presumed we were dumb electrical engineers....with the sheer talent and dedication we delivered a record more dan 15 times lift malfunction.......we hope we will be remembered in future and our arts will be advanced to a global scale...we r da liftbusters

An area of darkness:

Due to some unknown reason.....this semester we faced huge power cuts before mid semester....but never mind...we were happy.....atleast we got some reason to blame our poor mid sem performances....

How the nightcanteen-wala become a millionaire:

this is in tribute of those souls who wasted there life fortune giving us treat at night canteen and wondering why dey were born on their birthday....

The Saptarshi Gas Tragedy:

The weather was sunny.....innocent students roamed the corridor unknown of da fact of the things about to follow....it was the silence before a storm...and suddenly while rotating through his own axis....saptarshi slowly but effectively discharged those potent mixture of his inner wind.... last thing we cud remember....was ppl running fr fresh air.....classes got disrupted fr da day....and saptarshi was escorted to safer confines of toilet

the 1st Semesterly GMAT diwas:

it is one day we back benchers come forward and give tribute to those GMATS who wasted their college life in search of that golden 9 point....

we kept their tradition by occupying 1st bench...and asking innocently dumb question......this event was taken by surprise to both Shamili Das and P.K Sahoo...thou Bikas Sahoo merely wondered about those new faces in da class(he suffers from Jagga-opia)....

Annual Sleep...oops...Athletic Meet:

As hilarious it may sound....our institute authorities dared to organize athletic meet and asked us to participite....ya u guessed it.....we slept all day long....

Epilogue:

15 Novemeber 2008: Remarkable day in the history of NIT Rourkela. The teachers had finally rose against the tyranny of students. The coming days will witness heavy inkshed....where students will fight a losing battle to hands of the Electrical department.....End Sem War III is about to begin....and the stage is set....

courses hav already been fired.....and if i fail in this war....i will be happy to be a failyr...bt i will fight till the end....better say till Electrical Machines paper...

Let's go to Puri!!

2008-11-06T00:41:00.011+05:30

It all started with three words...."Let's go somewhere".....maybe said with innocence....maybe said to be soon forgotten in the rush of life....

but things somehow worked out and all i remember was payin 1000 bucks and getting all prepared for my 1st outing wid my college frnds.....as they say....it was supposed to be "LEGENDARY"....

so on gud friday nite....with a half digested chana batura in my tummy instigating my bile juices....and a unhappy parents calling me for 100th time,with all attempts to sabotage my trip....i with my 12 branch mates(we all share a common goal of no goal in life) boarded the train to Puri....

next morning i woke up to one of the most interesting day of my life.....

actually we overslept and some coolie woke us up informin dat train has long arrived at puri...and was plannin its return trip by now.....

den we bunch of 13 ppl wid smelly mouth(arre!! we dint brushed yet)...cramped into an auto and somhow managed to land at the cheapest hotel of puri.....

but sadly....they cud manage 3 rooms for 9 ppl at most....so...rest of us had to climb in over the back wall of the hotel.....

breakfast was not a problem.....the evil mithaiwala.....managed to sell sweets of 200 bucks to us....and we fools kept gulpin....until we realised we only have to pay for dis.....

and den we decided to do somethin worthful and creative....so we hit the beach.....

and though i cant give u details of what we did there...it was something as gory as the Vietnam war....and we lost soldiers returned all salty and sandy after losing the battle.....dunt blame us....waves totally outnumbered us.....

and all we cud manage was a quick bath for which i stole water frm manager's bathroom.....cant help my cleanliness conscious mates had already finished the stored water....

lunch wasnt a problem either.....we always love being at temple when it comes wid da package cheap but delicious bhog....

so by evening....we were all tired...ready for a perfect nite's sleep...haha....u kiddin me....we were ready for getting more tired.....

we managed a quick dinner of pizza...where a few chinkis....were so insistent on takin pics wid us dat we finally had to give in.....dunt giv me dat look....we both kno the truth.....

thou rest of da night was kinda blurry....jumpin over the fence...runnin down to the beach...and shouting out nonsense in the darkness of the beach...mine and Jaiswal's peeing salute to the ocean..

and in the end of night....me falling on the bed.....beside Bhushan....crackin some bad PJ's and den fallin asleep.....

a sleep from i wish i never woke up.....a sleep which i dunt think i will ever get again.....but i woke up.....and things did happened......things that i may tell u someday when i believe it myself......

".....I hate the ending myself,
But it started with an alright scene...."

-'Disenchanted',My Chemical Romance

Thru my camera lens!!

2008-10-14T22:16:00.025+05:30

Sorry!!! I am no man of art.....for me M.F.Hussain is as significant as Einstein's GTR to my messwallah!!

I never been to an art gallery.....even watchin Drona for 2 times sounds far lucrative!!

neither do i justify billions wasted on auction of a few relics of art!!

But this few days of celebration in Kolkata proved me one thing....art is everywhere around u....u just need to look in a right manner....nd u will see its beauty....

Hence i take a backseat nd let my camera guide you through this amazing kaleidoscope of culture, art and enthusiasm dat tells me one thing.....

somewhere down the line I m proud to be a bong....

This amazing piece of pandal art signifies the value of time....and its history

Maybe this could answer those hopeless fundamentalist....god is a concept of inner self...and can be presented however u feel he is....
This is the modern take of the goddess of Shakti

Beauty is truth, truth beauty - that is all, Ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.

--John Keats

An attempt to save our ancient art of mask.....anyways ppl nowadays r bold enuf.....to crush da progress of society...nd nt even ask for a mask(read Mamata Bannerjee)

God doesnt have to be someone larger than life....it is something u can recognize wid.....she can be just another woman

This pandal was a wonderful piece of ceramic art....wid broken china pieces....one that i will remember for a very long time

The doors of devil sometimes lead to god.....but its important to overcome your fear

Just gave me the feeling of being in wonderland.....and all this was made up...believe it or not!!

Sometimes i feel non-violence is not that bad afterall....

Dint quite understood wat it meant....but watevr it was....it was gorgeous....

This made me think...why we always thought god to be fair skinned!!.....deep down in heart are we people as liberal as we portray ourselves????

Maybe all good things are supposed to end...so here we are saying adios with a bit of sweet and bit of colour....

Maybe somewhere down the line I regret being a bong.....i regret all those lost years....wid this magnitude of talent i regret of wat we cud hav done if we had the right light to show path!!

Shubho Bijaya!!

A view from my window

2008-09-19T00:12:00.002+05:30

Sometimes all u need is a view.....sometimes all u get is a view..... so in this 10 feet by 5 feet room of mine....all i have is this lovely view....and to this view i dedicate this poem....ahem....attempt of mine....

I sit beside my window,
in the breaking daylight.
The sun rises from the mist,
with some hope,and a little pride.

I sit beside my window,
from dawn to dusk.
In the early morning chill,
in the late afternoon lull.

I sit beside my window,
to watch time pass by,
an occasional hello,
an awaiting goodbye.

I sit beside my window,
in search of my love.
My eyes on the horizon,
my hopes in my heart.

I sit beside my window,
and watch people fight.
In anger of revenge,
wats wrong, wats right!

I sit beside my window,
watching my city skyline.
Where a million dreams break,
in the glittering neon shine.

I sit beside my window,
when the kingdom fall.
Where the pawns die,
at the master's call.

I sit beside my window,
in the full moon night.
In search of stars,
lost specks of light.

I sit beside my window,
with a wish to write,
the glimpses from my window,
in the limit of my sight.

The Mosquito-Murderer

2008-09-11T23:04:00.003+05:30

"Trivial things do matter... more people are killed each year by the bite of mosquitoes than are stepped upon by charging elephants."

Thou after 2 months of stay in hall-7, i have learned da value of joint family....hence i dunt exactly mind the 549 species of insects inhabiting my body rite now.....

but still after all these years i cudnt come in terms wid one particular insect dat has always made things hard for me.....

yea they r the almighty mozzies(ok u non-chetan-bhagat-fans!!! mosquitoes).....

maybe the first insect we indians come across starting frm our birth in dingy i-am-doin-a-favour-on-u-hospital rooms....mosquitoes remains an integral part of our life thruout....

from those early red patches of mosquito bites to those swimming angels in ur much needed cup of tea..dey frustrate u in every possible way.....

dont u recall the sense of relief nd calmness u felt wen u squashed those tiny devils in ur hands......

dint u felt those sadist pleasures seein ur mosquito choke to death in those deadly Mortein coil fumes.....

nd dont u remember the desperation wen the mozzie u were chasing just cuts out of ur reach to reach the ceiling....nd gives those devil's grin to u....

but believe it or not....dey have helped us in many ways making us wat we r today....

may be i can just list a few:

1> they r the messengers who r 1st 2 inform u in the darkness of the nite...dat ur fan is not working....nd u better not try to sleep

2> wid every mozzie we kill...they gives us hope that we can fight evil nd win.....

3> nd wid the next badge of mozzies arriving....it brings bak u to reality....tht point 2 was just a hope not a possibility

4> They gives us our 1st lesson of killing....1st taste of power over the weak

may not be da best insect to live with....but i have learned my ways.....atleast they dunt retort wen i vent my anger on dem.....

so wen i see one lying dead near me due to my wrath....i feel maybe somehow this mosquito is da better one out of us....atleast it dint asked for a reason....dint argued....dint manipulated.....

just accepted da law of nature.....the big dominates the small......bullies it nd ultimately kills it......

ppl say......mosquitoes r a burden on earth....gud for nothing.....hence they reason tht its better we kill dem.....

but we forget dat wat gud r we for??? nd who gave us da rite to claim our land as our own.....

i dunt feel guilty....nd maybe i will keep killing dem nd i m sure u will too.....we hav "graver"concerns to attend in our life......

but yes....given a chance i wud wish things werent this way....maybe something better cud hav been worked out by god.....

A cup of Tea, plate of Maggi,nd a poached egg

2008-08-31T03:51:00.007+05:30

"At the stroke of the midnight hour, while the world sleeps, India will awaken to life and freedom,"

-Jawaharlal Nehru, (either president or prime minister of India...am not sure coz am drunk!!)

But never mind...we NITians won’t be present to awaken to so called "life nd freedom"...coz we will definitely be busy munchin at the night canteen....

so lemme tell u a story......

dere was dis guy far off in da land of foods.....his mom used to cook good good things for him....but it was never able to tantalize his taste buds....he thought he was meant for higher food....

until one sad day he was bought nd left to da hands of this demon mess-wala.....

he laughed nd laughed nd laughed....until he forgot why was he laughing.....

nd den began da days of peril......every mornin he was acidified wid those oil parathas(ok ok...also a bit of flour)....

den followed da lunches of devil's dal....conspicuous karelas....

he wasnt even spared of those "chee"ken at da dinner...

but he beard dat wrath silently......nd prayed to god for a messiah.....but he felt his prayer went unheard...he even tried to suicide by gulpin down a whole bowl of dal in one day....

den one nite...after da darkness covered every possibility of lite....

messiah arrived....armed wid is stove nd frying pan....he cam ridin thru in his cycle.....

his face glowed wid benevolence...or was it sweat....

nd he bought wid him.....our dreams....
dis guy felt da presence f messiah...nd ws drawn towards him.....

nd den he heard those magic words...."kya chahiye.....maggi ya bread omelet, ya fir lobster in oyester sauce"......(ok u got me i was kiddin!!)

he settled for a maggi....nd he saw how dis magic cook....made 5 plates of maggi frm just one packet......
by now dis guy mesmerized had no doubt abt his capabilities...

do he began to eat his plate of maggi....nd wat a experience it was coz by da time his fork reached da plate....it was empty...all he cud see was his frnds lickin their fingers....

but da messiah saw his plight nd gave him another plate....dis time....he tasted da elixir of NIT....it was lke nothing else u hav ever tasted before(maybe a bit like maggi,but nothin else dan dat)

nd satisfied he thought dat yes.....i do hav reasons to live.....

so he turned to leave da nite canteen nd face da world wid a new front...wen da messiah called frm behind...

"saab.....30 rupaiye(Rs.30) hue"

nd frm dat day onwards...his dad awaits a messiah to fill up his sons depleting bank balance....

Loving to Love

2008-08-20T00:55:00.003+05:30

"Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are.

Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossom had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two."

-St. Augustine,Captain Corelli's Mandolin

Does love fades away......or does it grows stronger wid time???

Does it loses da initial awkwardness...or does it gains da required stability?...

Does it brings a end of possibilities.....or opens doors for a new set of dream.....

Maybe everyone of us asks one of dis question at one point or other in life...today after a year of being in dis bliss full state i hav to decide am i happier dan before or it never actually changed anything.....

My frnds says i hav wasted my precious independence.....i have got myself struck in some un needed obligations......

maybe dey r rite frm dere way....but still wen i close my eyes to imagine a life widout her...all i face is void....

means how cud i deny those moments of warmth.....those trusts made ,broken,nd mended....

those glances of assurance.......nd words of confidence.......

wen i close my eyes i cal still feel her warm sweats in my palm......clutchin me afraid to loose....

i can feel her tears markin every moment of joy nd pain.....

yes da dependency is an obligation......but da faith is a gift....

yes da dreams have changed course....but dey haven't deserted me......now i can dream for two......

yes dere r moments of arrogance....but dey follows those moments of reconciliation.....

yes, i may have my strings attached but somewhere at da end of they day.....these strings hold me in place.....

and after all this i can say i have enjoyed all da moments i faced.....we faced.....

we may hav lost da spark.....but we did lit da fire.....

Here I Am !

2008-08-14T01:02:00.003+05:30

"The distinction between children and adults, while probably useful for some purposes, is at bottom a specious one, I feel. There are only individual egos, crazy for love. "

--Don Barthelme

So its 1 year nd countin.....

1 year of initial awkwardness....1 year of standin in line for loo bettin which will come out first....da guy in da toilet or.....errrr leave it.....

1 year of transporting literally afternoon shit thru oesophagus...havin hope dat things will change one day.....
1 year of sneakin into night canteen widout frnds knowledge....nd burnin tongues wid hot Maggi....
1 year of rushin collge wid swollen eyes...nd promisin oneself....2morow i m gonna wake up early......
1 year of losing da privilege 2 change pants behind close doors.....

but after things did change......abt 365 days ago.....i was da guy who went to bed eagerly by now coz he had to catch his train next day to go home for weekend...for da very 1st time....he was super excited....he planned his 2 days of exile......he lived every moment of it.....

but 2day in da darkness of da nite...1 year nd numerous weekend at home later.....he is a bit reluctant 2 go bak to home dis weekend.....
he is bit reluctant to leave late day sleep of da cumin weekend.....he is reluctant to leave his internet connectivity(thou its shitty!!!) nd downloading movies frm LAN......

he will miss his weekend dining out.....nd surely being wid his frnds 24X7......

so this guy thinks.....is it da change he was sure will never come.....is it da beginnin of his tru adulthood....his true independence.....time....wen he will come out of dat unseen cocoon of teenager to be all alone in da facing race of life wid eagerness.....or is it being da selfish guy who will leave behind his past, his parents in his race of adventure, stunt of friendship....

is he losin his past or is he gainin a new future.....

why i dunt feel those butterflies in my stomach which i felt 1 year i ago.....i see dat same guy in mirror...am i grown up....or i m trying to be....or am i avoiding to be.....

its been 1 year of every damn thing.....but it has been da best 1 year of my life......i found my direction.....i found my friends.....i found my most precious gift of my life....which i intend keepin all my life....if da gift intends to bear wid me.....

So here i am today wat i intended to be yesterday!!

Hopeless in Hostel

2008-08-06T01:37:00.002+05:30

Sittin half nude....wid a laptop constantly plottin against ur potency...in a 7 by 7 feet room which is shared by a by-now-in-dreamland roommate....dere r too possibilities....

either i m in a really gud prison or a really shitty hostel.....but wats da difference.....

So welcome to NIT Rourkela.....mah college....oops institute....oops...watever..

thou by now....any fellow hostilities readin dis post mite be givin me i-kno-wat-ur-goin-thru look...all i can say is dat...dude....u dunt kno...

only hostilities worse dan us r waitin for dere body parts to be cut by some manic wannabe surgeon...but at least dey got a movie made for dem

we do have facilities,better nd unlike any other place....but rarely does dat facilities...facilitate us:

1>we do have toilets....ample of dem....but our institute believes...cleanin ur hands is more important dan ur ass...so either u can hav smelly butts or u hav to impossible gymnastics on washbasin....err...i hop u got it....

2>again we do have geysers.....but again...we believe in burnin ur skin for once and all....rather den cleanin dem regularly....

3>we hav bath cubicles(cant xactly call bathrooms)....but ppl have to understand...bathroom is da place where we bath...nd garbage bin is da place where we throw garbage...dey r both completely different.....

4>i cant also complain abt our mess....its gud....but dey shud kno we dunt quite like those dead flies toppins...

5>also u shud kno our insti is expandin nd introducin new courses....but i may request dem to keep da insects in their custody until zoology courses start...they can be allotted halls later...we dunt particularly njoy there company...they r quite gayish nd attempt kissin us unasked for...

6>i can understand dat we hav to learn adjustin to all kind of cuisines....but egg-water curry....ndchappati disks...are not a cuisine...accrdn to internet.....

7>nd even thou blood donation is noble thing to do...but can u ask ur volunteer mosquitoes to be less frequent?

So all in all its not dat bad afterall....isnt it???

but all i need to ask is to da Jain guys dat...if u think ur doin hardship nd will attain salvation....wat da fuck are we doin....???

Backpack To Nature

2008-07-15T18:33:00.013+05:30

“For my part, I travel not to go anywhere, but to go. I travel for travel’s sake. The great affair is to move.”

- following those words of Robert Louis Stevenson......one fine day me nd my frnds jumped out in search of new lands.....

Thou by da time we reached railway station....we discarded the possibilities of going top Hawaii or Switzerland or Austria....mainly because they r tourist spot not traveller's destination....nd maybe also becoz we hav lill cash left wid us......

So we settled for da more exotic Shantiniketan....

Giving u da brief details about da place....Shantiniketan("home of peace") was founded by Rabindranath Tagore....and....ok forget it...its all crap!!!!

Hence we hopped on the next available train....nd after 3 hrs of duel....we reached our destination!!

As we r not quite used to shabby living conditions we booked into da only 7-star resort available dere....and jumped out on da streets to reality....

So crossin da fields....jumping over da mud....nd ultimately landing on cow dung...we reached da home of da poet Rabindranath Tagore....

And the only thing i can say is.....why da fuck am i studying engineering and not writing poems....

means if u can make bungalows of ur own and live life king size by selling poem books...thts outrageous....

so we came back dazed....so much...tht people mistook us as ghosts and kept running away from us.....i hope we werent dat scary....it was just we were shocked....

next day...we had more financial concerns worrying us.....and i still cudnt figure....how come a bread omelet can cost 8 rupees.....and was i been cheated....

but anyways i was quite satisfied by the arrangement our resort made for sight seeing.....it was a double deck open roof limousine as they told us....but I thought it resembled the luggage top of a public bus.....but watever it was fun!!

and den it was shopping time....thou i dint indulged in shoppin but its always fun to encourage ur frnds to waste money on something.....isnt it!!

and after dis hard day we relaxed down....in our personal saloon on da returnin home.....thou we asked da railway personnel why they gave us hard wooden seats instead of cushion in other compartments....

they explained that it was specially designed for rich people so dat we dont have spondalitis and remain healthy....

Thou still now i dunt kno.....why dat guy who was begging on the station was sharing the seat wid me???!!

The Great Indian Robbery- 1

2008-06-28T21:45:00.008+05:30

Call it theft....call it robbery......or be the modernized scam......all in all its da same.......

Theft has been the identity character of India throughout history nd mythology..... frm da theft of loaf of bread to kingdoms.....we had been really gud at it.....

but thruout the question always remained ....who has been the best at it.....who made The Great Indian Robbery possible....

So out here I am rating top five mythological nd historical theft as of my knowledge(which i kno is really shitty)...nyways.... who cares!!!

"DECLARATION: All da events listed below are best of my historical nd mythological knowledge(haha!! as if i have any)..... nd has no resemblance to ny character living, dead or in coma!! So pls dunt mind.....nd if u do be happy coz u atleast got a mind to mind....."

So 1stly da top 5 mythological lochas:

5>Ramayana:Its OK to steal a pen....a car....a house maybe.....at most a person's whole property....but how about stealing a whole mountain.....Ok hanuman-da.....i understand u needed a herb...but better consult Google about how da herb luks dan bringin out da whole mountain...suppose ur family is plannin holiday in Ooty nd somebody cums nd tells u, u cant go to Ooty, it just now got stolen......ridiculous!!!

4>Ramayana: Kaikai stealin da rights of kingdom frm Rama for her son.....means with teary eyes nd hunger strike u deceive da king get da kingdom for ur son is not fair.....our MamataBannerjee does it all the time.....nobody even gave her a gud flat in kolkata leave alone government....

3>Mahabharata:Our very own Shakuni Mama stealing all frm da sweet Panadavas.....again....wat da heck....ya ya i kno u won it in a fair game of gamblin....but i have also studied Probability in +2....nd if u played fair.....wont u thing Daniel Ocean wud have taken u instead of other 10 Hollywood stars....wud have been cheaper.....

2>Mahabharata: Mr.Krishna.....ur da runners up.....man!!!.....u the mastermind of Ghee Ghotala....kept stealing thruout ur childhood nd the end u have a huge fan following.....how u manage it......our pickpockets need a serious lesson frm u......u rock

1>Ramayana: The dream of every Street Romeo....nd the benchmark of every Plastic surgeon.... u 10 headed cutie pie....stealing a gal frm a world class security system.....nd flying her off to Lanka nd dat also da gal of Shree Rama .......so Ravana ur da clear winner.....how in the hell u manage to hid ur 9 heads nd got a perfect sanyasi makeup.....our plastic surgeons r really baffled bout it......thts called real love......cummon everyone can pickup a dhanush nd shoot at some fish eye.....but kidnapping her off is kewl.....it takes real guts!!

Phew!!! Now dunt blame me....dis was the mythology supposed to teach us the better aspects of life.....nd it surely does!!!!

Thts da 1st installment of the Great Indian Robbery.....next time I will return wid da top five historical thefts....

nd if u think i missed some famous goof ups of our beloved Gods....be free to comment!!!

Rendezvous in Rickshaw

2008-06-18T17:35:00.002+05:30

" rickshaw or ricksha
Pronounced: rick·sha

Noun

1. a small two-wheeled passenger vehicle pulled by one or two people, used in parts of Asia

2. a similar vehicle with three wheels, propelled by a person pedalling [Japanese jinrikisha] "

-This is da definition of the so called vehicle .....developed by gr8 love nd care by our neighbours...nd properly utilised by us.....

People who r frm "advanced" cities of India may not be quite acquainted wid either of the two kinds of these species.....but we in kolkata...have our bonding wid both...

So in a way of introducing u to it i can say....

they r kind-of tricycles....only difference is....here one hunger stricken being is responsible for carrying two fatballs frm one point to another widout some noticeable profit....

at the end of the day.....da fat balls put over them an extra layer of fat..which is peeled out of the famished body of da puller..... nature's perfect maths.....

but da amazing thing about it is this Japanese inventions after hundreds of years of stay in India has not been modified....even a bit.....

->it still have seats made in measure of those Japanese arse.....i dunt have any idea how our Indian fat butts manage to stick on dat.....

->dey do hav a foothold....but if our rickshaw puller dares to pull brake....da foothold ensures that no part of ur body is held bak....nd u skate down to mother earth....

->and the best thing they have is a pullover cover....thou it wont cover u frm neither rain nor American GPS enabled missile...but in India covers matters....

But wid all these "provisions" its still for all kolkatans the most favoured public transport...... a transport.....banning which can even cause our favoured government to overturn..... cause they have dere uses too:

1> in comin times then u will start gifting ur wife one ltr of petrol on anniversary in stead of a diamond pendent(coz ur wife always likes da most costly thng in market....watever it may be).....
human sweat will still get cheaper.....so a vehicle which runs on human sweat and also not urs ....is surely a necessity

2>we all at times luv to get wet in rain.....wat a better excuse dan got wet while coming in a rickshaw....wet ka wet and excuse ka excuse

3>next time ur child want to ride a animal....rickshaw can be fun ride for him......coz human is the only animal u can ride widout inviting Maneka auntie to ur home for dinner

4>and all those coo-chi-koo couples....i know how u feel wen da security guard watches u kissing ur galfrnd as if u r mixing saliva to make a new chemical bomb for Al-Queda......try it inside a rickshaw...peace guaranteed

5> OK u fat asses.....i have some thing for u too....rickshaw on kolkata roads is much better dan those African Sky Shop vibrators ( damn! i meant fat reducing vibrators....not da other ones)

So next time u see a Japanese.....thnk him on our behalf.....or at least enquire wats da secret of there microscopic arse!!

K-night fall

2008-06-14T21:46:00.005+05:30

Sorry Sourav da......thou Shahrukh uncle is richer by 8 crores......and u at last have some award to add to ur old TV shelf(whose rusted key u mite be busy oiling now).....both of u did suffered frm the above titled syndrome...

".........And then to compound the ersatz feudal note, a fifth team called itself the Kolkata Knight Riders. When did knights last ride through the streets of Kolkata? Who dreams up these names, anyway?........"

-These were the words of Shashi Tharoor, Sunday Times editorial

Thou in my wildest dreams i cant imagine Jyoti Babu and his dhoti clad antiques(for obvious age reasons) of our very own CPM(Chauvinist Part of Murderers) ridin horses thru the streets of kolkata....

what matters more is those Nandigram "cadres" may have performed much better thn the lousy team u ppl selected......
I dunt blame Mr Shahrukh "Dard-e-disco" Khan.....he was nyways trained to be the bad boy of Hockey......

but wat went into our Ganguli-da's head....put some of me and those under performing novices and we can win those Royals out dere.......and yes tarka of Shohaib will be delicious too....

Can't blame those kiddos thou.....after Priety Zinta hugged her Kings after the victories....may be Shahrukh also provided dem wid similar kind of "lucrative" opportunities....who takes the risk....

But at da end be happy kolkata ppl.... :-

->we have one more shahrukh song for ur new ipod ( oh no.....now dunt think i m flaunting my new 80 GB classic ipod)

->we have a state rich wid gold reserves ....in next season shahrukh is also planning platinum pubic gaurd....

->we at last have something better to reply to Punjabi's "chakde"......and "korbo lorbo jitbo" sounds inspirational.....

->we have da most kewl luking jersey and thou Rbk pinches ur pocket u can still get them easily frm our esplanade markets....who knows.....and thou u will luk dumb on streets....did u thought u lukd smarter earlier

->nd next time during team selection change ur name as some McMukherjee or McChatterjee....and tada....u will find urself in middle of Eden wid we throwing eggs on u.....

INDIA: Million mutinies now

2008-06-12T22:04:00.000+05:30

"India is one of the most hot and sweaty country one can ever see.....and if that was not all people dere is also hairy......

they have hair .....here there and everywhere.......
so when god were making Indians.....he was in mood for fun.....he called all his mates and told...... look i m going to send dis species to the most fucking hot place on earth....and just.....just for fun.....i am gonna make them hairy......"

---Those were the words of Russell Peters.....Canadian cum Indian stand up comedian

So welcome to India:

a country...where u cant enter from the north widout displacing one guy....at da south India into da ocean.....
and after u get in....the guy who is by now half drowned in the water.....snorts at u and says....."haha.....now u r the loooser"

a country....where government uses fresh...pollution free air to kill people....coz we r adapted to smog pretty well now.....

So have u ever thought wat went wrong wid we ppl just below the Himalayas....tht we suddenly started procreating our own species like sum kinda "zygote revolution"....

cummon.....luk at countries like Afganisthan...Khazagistan....and all those Bullshit-sthans......where a group of more than 3 ppl is sighted....its national news....

I doubt its all due to China......they must hav given us a challenge....."lets see u Indians niggers.....u ppl r anyways lousy in producing electronic goods....so atleast.....procreate humans faster dan us".And by da time we r on the way to win da challenge....they snort at us like dat by-now-already-drowned-south-Indian,
"Haha fools....u forgot to notice that ur country is not so large as us and ur overloaded"

But who knew....we Indians has already knew of a better plan.....they had bribed Columbus to find a country of dumber ppl.....and parcelled half of the population dere disguised as engineers.....

So Chinese....keep pullin ur blunt nose....we r smarter!!!

Back 2 Bedlam

2008-06-11T21:43:00.000+05:30

Its well said--"You never win the silver......u always lose the gold"- dunno who said it.......
I have always justified dis statement.......
by the way I m 'Satan'.....haha may not be the real one.....but believe me if a non-Asian tries pronouncing my name he will get 2 nothin better dan dis......

hence after loads of making and breaking of resolutions.....this one fine day i realize i have done nothin in my life......not even tried to bore nyone.....thus dis bold venture......

I kno u dunt want to kno any damn thing abt me....but why shud i care.....its my blog.....get ur ass out of here and surf porn if u dunt wanna read ny further....

but all about me I wanna say is dat.... I m not a loser......hence dat starting quote:

I m kinda guy who just before reaching the finishing line realizes.....oh fuck, why am i running?....and by the time the i get bak to my goal.....its all messed up......

So i m basically a guy......who is just a bit less successful than his parents expectation.......just 2 inches shorter dan his girlfriends expectation......has hair just few inches longer than da relatives expectation......is bit less serious dan my frnd's expectation.....bit less cordial dan "elders" expectation.....nd a bit more boring dan ur expectation.......

I m da guy.....who u see and u cant exactly place in any particular category......

nd dis is my blog....where i will discuss almost nythin......frm politics to poultry......frm life to laundry......frm endurance to envy.....(cant help.....they just rhymed well!!)