Of course, I am insane

Of course, I am insane. I am insane to go clubbing late hours on a Saturday night, in a pair of denims. Yes, you got that right, I was in an outfit that was provocative; provocative enough for you to snatch away my chastity. Its bizarre to even think that "provocative" is actually used to term a style of clothing. What exactly does the style provoke - Desire? Temptation? Rape? Had I not been in the denims, but a burqah, I would have still provoked you with my kohl lined eyes, or tinkling anklet-wrapped ankles or wrists. Yes, I shall provoke you, as always, to rape me, because I am insane.

******

Of course, I am insane. I am insane to give away my heart to a lady who doesn't worship the thirty-three thousand Hindu Gods and Goddesses like me, but goes to the church instead. The father who has been an atheist ever since my memory goes, suddenly realizes religion is more weighty than the right to live and love. This patrilineal society has has taught me culture of honour. Honour your family, honour your acquaintances, honour your society - but never commit the sin of honouring your love. I was insanely in love with my girl to get ourselves killed in what was an accident to the world.

******

Of course, I am insane. I am insane because I feel gay. Till half a decade ago, gay was a term mostly used to define a happy state of mind, and not someone homosexual. As I grew up to realise my sexual preference, I was stamped by the society as that gay guy which surprisingly took away my freedom to live happy and gay. Irony, ain't it? My best friends deserted me, my siblings shunned me out of their lives, my relation with my parents was on an egg-shell. All because, being a man I am insane enough to have a boyfriend.

******

Of course, I am insane. I am insane to even wish that I could live to see light of the world. I had just learnt to breathe and move, I had just felt the warm love of my mother's womb. I would eat when hungry, sleep when tired and kick when happy. I was a girl child basking in the warmth of a dark,cozy womb, waiting to let the golden sun soak my tender skin. I was insane to build castles in the air. It was not long before I suddenly felt turbulence around me, as if someone was pulling me out of my comfortable abode. I resisted, I tried to cry out loud, but no voice was heard. And I lay dead and cold; even before I could learn to breathe in the open air. How I wish I was a boy, so I could cherish the moment you are born.

******  ******  ******

A world of insanity, a world crumbling down like a castle made from a pack of cards. Humanity today is in question. Each one of us owe an explanation. What path are we creating for the future generations to come? What are we leaving behind for them? Insanity. That's the gift from us to the generations to come.

God save this insane world!

This article can also be read @ Conics Cradle

From my Diary : Entry# 157

The talk of the town - CORRUPTION. Surf the TV channels, seven out of ten channels are telecasting some kind of round table discussion on this issue. Open the newspaper early morning, there it is, right in front of your eyes, in black and white. Back home after a day's hard work, I log in to a social networking site, its painted all over with different opinions on the same subject.

My encounter with this moral impurity is what I am going to pen down. It was early 2010 when I decided that my document's folder should contain an additional document, my passport. I applied for it on 31st April, 2010. As per the rules and norms, a cop paid me a visit one fine morning to verify my identity. Baba was not at home at that time. It was just mom and me. The cop seemed a friendly guy. Mom offered him a cup of tea, along with a plateful of sweets and savouries. After his interrogation and gastronomic satisfaction, he got up to leave, assuring me that my passport will be in my hands in a couple of months. And me being the fool that I was, believed him.

It was in a family get together some months later, that one of my uncles asked me if I have a passport ready as I was about to step into the corporate world (the myth still prevails, IT industry means relocating to the US of A). That suddenly reminded me the police uncle's fat chubby smiling face telling me that I will have the passport in my hands in two months. I made a quick calculation. It was almost 4 months since I applied, and no passport yet! Uncle asked me in a grave it's-a-matter-of-fact voice, "Haathe koto guunje diyechili" (what amount did you place on his hands)? I beamed and told him, he was a good man, he didn't ask for any! As soon as I finished my sentenced, every pair of eyes were on me and everyone in the room started talking at the same time.
"Haaa Bhogoban, kichui dili na?" (Oh god, you did not offer him anything?)
"Ebaba... eyi jonneyi eto deri hocche" (Oh, that's the reason it's taking so much time)
"Poltu'r ta korar shomoye to ami chaa er shatheyi paansho taka guje dilam mishti khawar jonne" (while applying for Poltu's passport, I have him 500 rupees along with his cup of tea and asked him to buy himself some sweets)

It has become a common practice to bribe the cop when he comes for verification. So much common that it has imbibed into the application procedure and has become an integral part of it. Or maybe, the most important part! As I was sitting in the room, with people around me discussing about the delay in my passport delivery, it appeared as if I had missed a major step. And I was supposed to feel guilty about not handing over money to the cop.

Yes, no greens were exchanged in the entire course of my passport application, except for the application fee. And I am suffering. Had I pushed into his palm a couple of 100 rupee notes, probably I would have seen by today what a passport looks like. Today, after 1 year 4 months, my passport is still under process.

All over a cup of coffee

They say 'A lot can happen over coffee'. I agree. A lot indeed can happen over coffee. No, its not what you think... I am talking about a discussion that I had with one of my friends over 2 cups of steaming hot coffee. A discussion which compelled me to pen down this post. We started talking about the weather, and the office and the election results and finally relationships. The friend in context is of the male species. And as expected, the definition of relationship was different for both of us.

While talking to him, I realized the fact that guys consciously or sub-consciously starts taking his girl for granted after the initial "lovey-dovey" days are over. When you are new in love, you feel everything around you is bliss. It seems every love song has been written for you, every happy ending movie is the story of your life and you suddenly discover the hidden poet in you. But then suddenly one day you realize love songs don't attract you that much, love stories seem to be different from your life... and biggest of all.... you cant write poems anymore!! Oh gosh, whats wrong? Does that mean you are falling out of love? Don't panic, the answer is NO. It's just that you get used to your partner's love. That's precisely the juncture from which a guy starts taking his girl for granted. Maybe in a conscious state, or sub-conscious or maybe even unconscious!

This is where my male friend, taking a long sip of the hot coffee, made an important statement. He said that men start comparing their girl to his mother. He expects her to be as understanding, as loving and as caring as his mother. And if he is a lucky chap, his girl has excellent culinary skills which can be matched up to that of his mother's (that's a bonus though)....!!! Let me tell you, this friend of mine does not flaunt a 'single' relationship status. He argued that if a guy is actually comparing his girlfriend to his mother, it means he trusts her nearly as much. And according to him, the girl should feel privileged about her position!

Things started to get interesting...!! I was leaning back in the sofa and sipping my mocha, but his comment made me sit up... I just could not agree to the fact that a girl should feel privileged about her position when compared to her boyfriend's mom!! In fact, why on first place should such a comparison arise? I started my argument in defense of the female species..!! A girl enters your life when you are a matured individual. She starts knowing you when you have already decided upon your likes, dislikes, actions and reactions. And your Mom, she knows you from the minute you see the light of this world (practically, even before that). She guides you through your likes, dislikes, actions and reactions. A mother has the biggest heart for her child. How much you fight with her, accuse her, abuse her, she is the ever-forgiving lady. Every guy has experienced this. And this has made him believe his girl will digest his tantrums and mood swings like his mother does. This is where every guy goes wrong and this is practically where every problem starts.

I was surprised to hear this confession from my friend that he has his own check list against which he rates his girl. Rating here depends on how close she is in being like his mom!!! I called up a few of my other guy friends to take their opinion on this matter. I asked them if at any point in their relationship they have drawn a comparison between their mother and their girlfriend. And trust me, everyone of them gave me a positive answer!! They all wish to have a girl who will be like their model lady... Surprising, indeed..!!

Our coffees had finished by then, and so had our hour long discussion on this topic. It left me intrigued and set my mind into thinking. A time will arise when I will be a victim of the same situation. When I will be rated against a check-list. That angered me. This psychology of men may never change, but it keeps me wondering why can't they accept their girl the way she is? Why does she need to be reflection of someone else? Individuality has indeed lost its importance....

LIFE

Lingering ray of hope
In the heart of a sick child
For him to see the next sunrise.
Each moment for him is a new LIFE.

LOVE

Long term war prevailed in our heart,
Over the years we fought so hard,
Victory it was finally for us,
Endless it is, what I call LOVE.




P.S : My first attempt in writing an Acrostic. An acrostic is a poem or other form of writing in which the first letter, syllable or word of each line, paragraph or other recurring feature in the text spells out a word or a message.

Nursery Rhymes

We all have grown up memorizing and blabbering Nursery Rhymes. The moment our mothers realized that we have learnt to speak syllables, in came The Big Book of Nursery Rhymes for Children. They spent hours behind us to make sure that we can recite them so well that each time we had visitors, we could put up an impeccable performance in front of them. Nursery Rhymes were taught to us in a blind manner. Did we ever analyze them? No. No never really needed to, right? But now if we do, we'll realize that those lines of rhymes were completely unfit to become a child's read. Let us critically scrutinize some of the very popular ones...

1.
Hush a bye baby, on the tree top,
When the wind blows the cradle will rock;
When the bow breaks, the cradle will fall,
And down will come baby, cradle and all.

It indeed starts of in a soothing manner. You can feel the zephyr, you can visualize a rocking cradle. But suddenly a mishap occurs. Do you think the sight of a bow breaking, bringing along with it a small sleeping baby, is a very pleasant one?

2.
Piggy on the Railway
Picking up stones;
Down came an engine,
And broke Piggy’s bones.
‘Ah !’ said Piggy,
“That’s not fair,”
“Oh !” said the engine driver,
“I don’t care !”

A speeding train coming and hitting you.... does that sound delectable enough?

3. And how can we forget our all time favourite.......
Jack and Jill went up the hill,
To fetch a pail of water.
Jack fell down and broke his crown
And Jill came tumbling after.

Two young kids, coming down a slope with a heavy pail of water. (child labour, is it?) And the inevitable happens. A small boy and a small girl rolling down the slopes of a hill, with the boy having a cracked skull..... is it not a gory scene to even imagine?

I just showed you three of the numerous nursery rhymes that should come with an 'A' rating. Start analyzing them the next time you read. They won't appear as simple as they had till today!

P.S : The idea is based on a discussion I had heard years ago.

Adios

I had never thought goodbyes could hurt so much.

Its strange when I sit back and think of those people who have taken a lazy stroll on my life's pathway. Some came walking in a leisurely manner, some made a sensational entry, while others were there even without me realizing that they were there... But the common thing among all of them were, they came never to stay.

Some part ways to meet again, and some part ways never to meet again. The latter one hurts. Even if I never had a chance to converse with the person. The girl in a pony-tail who used to sit in the second last bench in class VI A... yes the one who left school in class VII... was never my friend. But our paths did cross. I don't know where she is now. But I know our paths will never cross again. Or maybe that chaiwala, who made the best lemon tea I have ever tasted, stepped out of my life the day we migrated to a different city. I know I will never go back to that city, to that tea stall. So, forever goodbye it was.

Promises always tags along with goodbyes. Promises of keeping in touch. So many text messages everyday... then once a day... gradually once a week, to once a month then once a year... maybe not even that. That's what we promised. Promised to get so busy with our life, that we, in a way, make sure that our paths don't cross.

Yes... I absolutely dislike goodbyes.

Change...

They were sitting close. With her head on his shoulders. The only sounds that could be heard were the flowing of the river and the song of the birds. Everything seemed so perfect. They were so New in Love.

She : Do you drink?
He : Not much. At times.
She : And smoke?
He : No. I don't like smoking!

She : (smiles, cuddles up closer to him) I have never tried drinking or smoking. Would you mind if I try?
He : (sits up straight) Oh! No.... I'm never gonna allow you to touch alcohol. And never talk about smoking in front of me!!
She : (laughs) A day will come when you will pour me a glass of drink and light me a smoke!!
He : (draws her closer) : In your dreams, baby!!

5 years later.....

They were sitting close. With her head on his shoulders. There was music around them. And a group of friends. She was excited. And so was he! She was about to try out shots of Alcohol in today's party. She had not done that before. He placed some salt on her hand, handed her the lemon and the small glass of clear liquid. Their eyes met. Both smiled. Probably they both recollected the conversation they had 5 years ago. But that was PAST. They were "kids" then. She gulped down the liquid at one go. It felt good. He cheered. Came up to her and hugged her with one hand, a beer bottle in the other.

She smiled. She wondered how people change over the years.

P.S : All characters in this post are completely fictitious. Any resemblance to any person, living or dead, is purely unintentional and coincidental.

growing up with books

I can identify the sharp transitions that I have had in my literary life. I don't think i could put it very well. What I mean is, how I have grown up reading books of different flavours.

I don't remember the first book I owned. Must be something which had colorful pictures in every page with little or no writing. I remember a particular series of books which i used to borrow from my Kindergarten library. It was called Peter and Jane. Ma used to sit and make me practice reading. Also there was The Enormous Turnip, Henny Penny, The Shoemaker and the Elves. All these had lots of pictures. Attractive ones!!

As  I graduated from Kindergarten, I was introduced to the Magical world of Enid Blyton. The Faraway Tree, The Barney Series, The Adventure Series.... they became my bible! I was a voracious reader! I gradually imagined myself as one of the Secret Seven or The Famous Five or The Five Find-Outers. I fell in love with Fatty (leader of the Five Find-outers). I tried writing letters with invisible ink. I tried having a secret society where you had to give a  password to enter the meetings! I wished I was in a boarding school like St. Clare's or Malory Towers!

Apart from the Enid Blytons, I read Sweet Valley kids! As I grew up to a permissible age to read Sweet Valley High or Sweet Valley University, I realized that Sweet Valleys are Sh!T...!!! I was never a Sweet Valley fan! Girls in my school were crazy about that series!! Ugghhh!!!

And gradually, Sherlock Holmes, Hercule Poirot, Miss Marple became my bedtime stories. At times I used to stay up late and finish a book and then go to bed. Ma used to get angry at times. But the urge  to reach the last page of the book was too strong to listen to anything she said.

As I gained age and wisdom, the Secret Sevens and Rip van Winkles took their place in the top most rack of my book shelf, where you need to stand on a stool to reach out. The middle rack (the most accessible one) was furnished with The Sister of my Heart, The Glass Palace, A Princess Remembers, classics like Gone with the Wind, Emma, David Copperfield. I rearranged the books of the middle shelf and made space for The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns.

I was not confined only to books in English language. I ventured a lot into the world of Bengali literature too. Feluda,  Professor Shonku, Tarini Khuro and every short story that came out of the pens of Satyajit Ray was and still is my favorite. Pother Panchali, Parineeta, Ramer Shumoti, Chuti, Rajarshi... the list is endless. Books were my Best friend. In fact, my bestest friend (if that term existed)!

And today, I find myself so drained out after the day's work, that I don't get time to read. And I regret it. Always. The days when going to the Book Fair was like an annual ritual. The smell of new books was intoxicating. I miss those endless idle hours which I could spend behind those black and white letters.

Alas...!!

P.S : There are tons of other books and writers who have been a part of  the "growing-me". So many, that I cant possible fit them all here!

randomly random

Catastrophe.
First, there was an unnatural bursting of my thought bubble, scattering the contents to corners beyond reach!
And then, as I gathered them together, the random thoughts suddenly get caught in a mouse trap.. with no escape!

Result : a random string of words with vague or NO sense!!

Pujo 2010 - I Miss

Its Mahashashti today. And my blog post is being written from office. For the first time in my life, I am away from Kolkata during the Pujo. There are so many "first times" in one's life. But not all are pleasant. Like this one...
Sitting in my cubicle, miles away from the city of joy, I realise how much I miss it. The way the city gears up for the festive season is nothing but spectacular. The lights... the pandals... the sea of people pushing you down the aisle just to get a glimpse of the idol... the late night pandal-hopping... facing the terrific traffic jam for hours just to spend an hour in Maddox Square with a couple of old school friends... the Ferris Wheel of Deshapriya Park... walking from one corner of the city to another, in a pair of new shoes and ending up with terrible shoe bites... the pink candy floss (or burir chul as we better know it)... offering Anjali in saree on Ashtami morning... the late night addas without Mom getting annoyed... 4 days of pure bliss!!
Way back in school, the first feeling of Pujo was felt when my Bengali teacher used to give us an assignment of writing a paragraph on Sharatkal (Autumn) or DurgaPujo or maybe Amar Priyo Utsab (my favourite festival)... thats the time my Thamma or my Dadubhai used to help me write a beautiful write-up, quoting Tagore. And that added an extra flavour to the whole feeling.

And this year, i felt no remote signs of the festival arriving. No Kashphool on the sides of the roads, no pandals, no lights, no smelling the new pages of a Pujobarshiki, no whole day trip to New Market and coming back loaded with bags of new clothes.... :(
But I guess thats how Life is....
P.S : people who are my near and dear ones and who know the essence of Durga Pujo in Kolkata, might be sympathising with me... but don't worry, I am landing in my City Saptami night...!!! just couldnt bear to stay away from the city at this time of the year!!! :)

Linked to Let's Celebrate Durga Puja

Just another text message

Few days ago, i received a text from one of my dearest friends. What I read, actually made me start thinking. And I thought of setting your thoughts into motion too....

I have seen castles made out of sand,
Met people who believe destiny is engraved on the palm of their hands...
I have seen people change their faith,
Experienced love change into hate,
I have seen people grow younger with age,
And a bird who wouldn't fly out of an open cage...
I have seen love sold for money,
People who are devastated inside but outside they are funny.
I have seen the unicorn fall in love with the toad,
People who owned half the city,have now hit the road.
I have learnt to expect the unexpected,
Perfection does not exist, we are all defected.
Everyone cries, some just hide their tear,
They say coal turns diamond over a thousand years.
Someone may believe you are one in a million,
For others, you are another nobody in the billion.
So live life with all that you have,
Cherish all your moments, Happy or Sad.
Feel blessed with what you are,
'Coz life is too short, and we can't go too far.....

P.S : Author unknown, but beautiful words through his/her pen.....

retrospection

My mind is blank. The thought bank is void. But my olfactory nerves seem to be functioning more than always. There is a quaint smell in the surrounding air. Of memories. The old ones. And the fresh ones too.

A smell of spices drifting from somewhere. Spices being fried. Just like the one which used to come from the Paratha shop in Majitar.

I can see a notebook on my table. I pick it up. Opened it. A wisp of smell greeted me. A dried flower. Once a red rose. Now a dark reddish-brown memory between white pages. It carries your smell. Across the distant lands.

Its raining outside. Suddenly. And its not monsoon. Its one of those unexpected showers after a sultry day. Accompanied by the smell of the newly-bathed earth. It carries freshness along with it. And memories. Of the day when we drenched ourselves in the fragrance of the rain, the wet earth...amalgamated with the scent of Elizabeth Arden and Azzaro.

Suddenly the strength of these scents becomes weak. Weaker.

And I realise that I am being dragged out from the "limbo" of the fragrant memories. To the grey reality.

Output of a SDLC lecture..

This Blog post is unlike the rest. I am writing it from Office. From my training centre to be precise...!! There is always a sense of alertness... my mind, eyes and ears are all open at the same time. Making sure I dont get caught :)

There is a certain level of excitement in this kind of activity! A feeling similar to what we felt while bunking class in school.. making sure we don't get caught. Or maybe the times when we sat through a lecture, playing "Bollywoods" or "Bingo" with our partner!! Or maybe those times when we placed a "Mills and Boon" between our textbook during exams, and kept a ear open for Mum's footsteps!!

Right now my instructor is busy creating a mind-map...!! I wish he had a the ability to look into my mind and map down how it feels to be at work on a Saturday :( But thanks to a digital classroom!

I guess its time to wrap up my write-up! The pressure and adrenaline rush is quite high! And I need to get back to the PPT thats being shown!

P.S : this was a very random post, so my apologies if you were bored...!

A new life...

Again its time to leave home. Time to move from my familiar surroundings to a new one. Adjustments. Each morning when I'll wake up, I wont see the black clock on the wall facing me. Or the study table overflowing with books. I wont have Mom shouting at me for sleeping so late. In fact, I wont be able to sleep late!! (Oh god, how will I survive?!! )

Its not college. I dont have to rush for my classes. No need to be afraid of the teachers. Now its time to be screwed by my Boss!! No bunking classes, no texting friends during lectures. Oh god, I'm going to office!! Like Dad. I always wanted to go to office like him when I was a kid. It felt so nice then. The idea then was, Office is for grown-ups. And today, I am a grown-up.

Ahhh... just a week left. My first job. Hope it does me good. I have dreams. Big ones. I need to turn them into reality.

I am...

I am the epitome of power.

I am the mixture of the artist's colour on a white canvas.

I am the poet's blank verse.

I am the sculptor's chisel-work.

I am sunshine. I am the monsoon shower.

I am the cool breeze. I am the starry sky.

I fight. I love.

I cry when I'm happy. I pretend to be happy when I'm not.

I am strong. I am delicate.

I am calm. I am fiery.

I am a daughter. I am a wife. I am a mother.

I die million times but I revive each time.

Because....

I AM A WOMAN.

The Wait

I wait for the day

When the mornings will turn from red to orange to pink.
When the nights wont be black anymore.
When the moon will shine from grey to a sparkling silver....
When the rainbow will be an amalgamation of purple, jade and emarald hues....

I wait for the day when you'll pull me close to you and say,

"Crazy girl, you were always mine....!!!"

Untitled....

Why is it that at times I feel so depressed, down and disappointed? Its the gloomy weather, I guess. Or is it? There are times when the sun is shining with all its might, yet I'm feeling blue. Is it the hot weather? I guess not.

Then what is it that at times make me feel so small, so unwanted? At those times I feel I have not done justice with the people around me. I could never become the daughter my parents wanted or the elder sister that I should have been to my sibling. I failed to love the person I love. Have I done any good to my friends? I dont think so too...

I feel like venting out my bottled up feelings. They make me feel so nasty and crappy.

I wanna shout out and cry... But I am strong.. Or am I?

Merci Beaucoup

After pondering over it for quite a while, I finally decide that in my first blog entry I would like to thank certain people,who are all special in their own small way.

The person who gave me the idea of starting a blog to kill my time indeed needs to be thanked absolutely at the beginning. He's my cousin. The first cousin who made me realize the importance and existence of bhaiphonta... that cousin whom I've seen grow from a baby in diapers to a young gentleman now... that cousin who is a techie guy... the cousin who was named Boudhayan by his Mum and Dad... but the cousin whom I call Bua.

A sister is a little bit of childhood that can never be lost.  ~Marion C. Garretty
Yes, you got that correct... its time to thank one of the important person in my life. My little Sis, Toma. I think of the day years ago when she saw the light of this world... I was a kid of exactly 5 years and 7 months and 23 days.....!! She brought along with her a new kind of excitement in my young and tender life. It was an experience which was never experienced before.... I remember the first time I saw her... like a cherub,she was asleep in her cot, holding on to the rod as if she was afraid of falling off...!!!
And today this little baby girl has turned into a beautiful young lady of 17...!! All my admiration for this strong-headed girl, in spite of all the rough times we have had throughout our childhood...(and still have)!!! the fights, the tears, the smiles, the pranks.... everything holds a special place in my heart....a special note of gratitude to the "sister of my heart".

Ahana.... the friend I have been having since the days of Sahaj Paath and Barnaporichoy. We've been in and out of touch quite a number of times (usually when we got seperated by the virtue of being in different sections!!) yet, our friendship emerged as a successful one. Analysing our friendship at the present times, I can confidently say that I have been blessed with a sister whom God forgot to give me! This crazy yet sweet little girl has been there with me through my ups and downs. I've shared my deepest secrets with her, I have found solace in her words when I was down and needed a loving hand to hold.  My best friend...for now and always... Thank You.

The person who is a crackpot, crazy, loud, talkative yet gentle, practical and the best when it comes to heal your wounds, is none other than Debduti. We have been friends for the past 9-10 years and its has been a relation of fights, sulks, i-wont-talk-to-you-ever days, hugs, tears.... There is no topic under the sun which I cant share with this girl. Thanks DB and cheers to our friendship!

Many are blessed with such a friend whose mere existence adds a splash of extra color in one's life. Sayantan is that friend to me. At a time when I was venturing into a completely new world, stepping out through the gates of school, walking into the unprotected world, I befriended him. And he has been my confidante, my guide, my support ever since. I have found him whenever I needed a friend, he has seen me at my best and tackled me at my worst...!! One thing I know for sure, that in life's pathway, destiny might design separate paths for us, but I will find him by my side whenever I need him. THANK YOU Sayantan, for loving me as your friend and tolerating me whenever I behave as a rude,arrogant monster!! :D

At the end of the post, I thank the two most important people for whom my existence is a reality. Thanks Ma, thanks Baba.

Some people whose presence has made a significant difference to my life....

Thanks Ujjwal for being the best brother.
Thanks Arya for making me realize how to "fall in crush"....!!!
Thanks Jeet for cheering me up each time I'm blue.