In First Person

Pack up

2012-01-11T07:04:00.000-08:00

Yes. 3 more months and I'm gone from this place.

Shall we meet again?

I want to live with you. I want to wake up every morning with you by my side.

I love you, for your information.

2012-01-07T13:28:00.000-08:00

I am looking at the gaps between my fingers. I am terribly, helplessly lonely tonight.

I want to pack my bags and leave.

2012-01-07T13:17:00.000-08:00

How is the beer-bottle man?
Could he find more bottles to sell?

Sometimes they haunt me like a sad dream
The sailing bottles, the shimmering waves

Do you remember to remember to ask?
Could he find more bottles to sell?

2011-12-26T12:18:00.000-08:00

The impression of life that one gives is pretty different from the real picture. The real picture is always colourless and unattractive. The impression you give of it is more like using Timeline. Scrape a few things here and there, cut and copy and paste, and look you just managed to make everything look so pretty.

But you know, you, who just messed it all up, know that everything is not very pretty. Certain things are ugly. And you know that you had a big role to play to make it look ugly; and now you can't do anything about it but look at it as it obnoxiously smiles back.

But know that you can't judge an artist by one painting. You have to see what other paintings those hands have created. You can't blame it all on a few things gone wrong.

2011-12-09T07:30:00.000-08:00

Everything's mad around me. I haven't gone home for one year now, and probably will not be able to go back this time, either. I am going mad with passport and VISA applications and entrance exams and lab work and this unexpected interview call has sucked out all the happiness out of my soul. I have never worked harder, never felt more tense, never experienced these bouts of ecstasy and misery and panic attacks, or such uncertainties about life in general. I am on my own, miserable in this hot city full of cold people; happy because they let me be.

Someday, I know, I will pack my bags and leave for a happier morning in a different place where everybody minds their own business.

The ground under my feet will never settle. And as more and more Western Blots go to the records of negative results, I realize that research is a big adventure in itself. The moment you throw yourself into the whole current, you never know how it will meander and twist and turn and where it will take you or what plans destiny has for you. The journey always favors the brave. And how painful it is, and how ecstatic and how sad and happy.

Maybe I was meant to always live on the edge. In profession, in romance, in life and that's the only way I feel alive.

2011-12-07T04:27:00.001-08:00

Occasionally, you'd say that all my love and affection would evaporate when I meet a firangi at Austria.

I was too tired, nervous and sad. I saw the sun and the grills of the window of the train making squares on your face.

Harimon, what would I have done without you?

Raiyo.

2011-11-20T04:06:00.001-08:00

"My love,
We have found each other
Thirsty and we have
Drunk up all the water and the
Blood,
We found each other
Hungry
And we bit each other
As fire bites,
Leaving wounds in us.

But wait for me,
Keep for me your sweetness.
I will give you too
A rose."

- Neruda

2011-11-19T23:18:00.001-08:00

Nervous, heavy, spaced-out.

2011-11-17T06:10:00.001-08:00

How many roads must I walk, before I'm called a woman?

2011-11-17T06:01:00.000-08:00

I can't fall in love again. I have seen it, smelt it, drunk it and it's like alcohol, really.

When you are high, you are in Neverland.
When you are sober, baby, the same things are so annoying.

It's just a phase.

2011-11-17T05:55:00.000-08:00

Let it be, let it be.

Goodbye?

2011-11-12T00:24:00.001-08:00

When I closed my eyes
I were yours only
And you were mine

And coffee was brewing
In the kitchen
And the spider was weaving
And it was raining outside
And you wrapped me
In a blanket and
Kissed my eyes
And sang to me
And said you'd cook tonight
And we'd go for a walk
In the evening

And when I opened my eyes,
Baby, you were a stranger
Strangely.
Your eyes were somewhere else
Your smile was sad.

2011-11-05T01:23:00.000-07:00

Finally, I feel completely alone. I am starting to be okay with it.

It is growing on me.

2011-10-21T09:38:00.000-07:00

When I want to hold you

You trickle like sand from

The gaps between my fingers

When I want to feel you

Wish you would feel me too again,
You say you are so wounded
And you wound me, by not wanting
To tame me when I am wild, anymore

You want me to be
Free, when I
Want to submit, be yours

It is so suffocating
To not be suffocated
In love

Do you not miss anymore
The gap between my fingers?

2011-10-18T08:55:00.001-07:00

come back.

Ending

2011-10-17T11:01:00.000-07:00

I see you have died

I do not know when

You started dying

Slowly, quietly,

Like a whisper under the rug

Baby, you died.

Break-up

2011-10-16T22:10:00.000-07:00

I want to:

catch the next train to Kolkata.

go for an early morning tram ride

have piping hot langcha from Bancharam

sleep next to my grandmother on that small bed

I am:

tired of laughing to hide my tears

However:

there's no however.

2011-10-16T10:15:00.000-07:00

I thought I was not alone, walking here by the shore,
But the one I thought was with me, as now I walk by the shore,
As I lean and look through the glimmering light—that one has utterly disappeared,
And those appear that perplex me.

-WW.

YOU

2011-10-10T09:49:00.001-07:00

I want to do to you

What rain does to evenings

What sun does to dew

And you know that there are few

As transparent and perplexing

And as strange,so when I hold you

Every morning you are new

Like a flame in old beginnings

Or a shimmering bubble of dew

And at nights when you're blue

Counting the number of sad buildings

I play around to distract you

Feeling your face, to construe

The love you hold for endings,

Or your tears that swell like drops of dew,

To you, I want to be true

And to all seasons that sway in your musings

I want to memorise you, I want to do to you,

What sun does to a bubble of dew

YOU

2011-10-10T09:42:00.000-07:00

I want to memorise you

To hold you like a cluster of sunflowers in mornings

I want to do to you what rainbow does to morning dew

You know that there are only a few

With your whiffs of rivers and rainy evenings

I want to memorise you

When every morning you come to me, new

Like a sudden splinter in old beginnings

I want to do to you what rainbow does to morning dew

And at nights when you're suddenly blue

Counting the number of sad buildings

I want to memorise you

Feel your face and construe

The love you hold for endings

I want to do to you what rainbow does to morning dew

To you, I want to be true

And to all seasons that sway in your musings

I want to memorise you,

I want to do to you what rainbow does to morning dew

2011-10-01T03:41:00.000-07:00

It has been exactly one year that I had put you through what I had put you through.And as an old rule of nature, I am going through exactly what you had gone through one year back. I am not as strong as you are and I cannot get through, however, this pain. It rips me apart and puts my soul on fire.

I do not have anyone to share this with. I do not know how to put words to the feeling. I feel like shutting down and rebooting all over. I feel like running away.

I donot know how you moved on. It is so hard. It is so hard.

#@#@% #%$

2011-09-30T09:05:00.000-07:00

I am highly irritable these days. Work has taken a toll on me. And nothing is working. There is nobody for my random outbursts and frustrations, moreover. No one who can hold me in the middle of everything and say that everything will be just fine. Nobody to take care of my intense mood swings. People have their own mood swings.

I am left with no vent at all. Not even words; words come to me rarely and with time, they fail me these days, as I struggle.

For, I may be late.

2011-09-22T15:20:00.000-07:00

I want to know a couple of things:

What happened to the beer-bottle man? Could he find more bottles to sell?

Is lemon tea still over-priced there? Are the paper cups still leaking?

How is the old man in running shoes? Is he alive? Did he buy a new CD of old Bengali songs? Does he still drop by randomly? Could he contact his son?

What about the peanut seller? Does he carry the bottle of water now?

And the beggars at the car parking zone? Are they as irritating?

Then, how are the trees, the grass? How are the white water birds? How are the rocks? Remember me to all of them, can you? And tell them, I remember them clearly.

2011-08-12T14:45:00.000-07:00

The city never sleeps.

Every city has a soul, an odour, a colour, a spirit.
Every city has a little bit of Neverland.You need to dig it, find it beneath the heap of nothingness.

And the password you will know, if you deserve to belong to it.

2011-08-05T13:35:00.000-07:00

Twenty three,
You've been a pain in the wrong places.

Goodbye, gladly.

2011-07-23T11:37:00.000-07:00

I hope you will understand this; I am really gone. I can never come back to you, or to anyone.

I have tasted the Wind. I cannot tell you what it means to me, to go with the flow of shimmering waves towards the setting sun in the horizon. You know, the journey will never end because the sea cannot meet the sky. It is not practical to want to hold a wisp of cloud in your hand.

You know, that I loved you. I loved you more than I thought I ever could. And you know, I have been called. And when I am called, I forget everything and join the wind. If you call me back, I will only move more and more away from you. If you hold me back, I will rage like a tempest and break you into pieces.

You can wait, but I donot know when or if I will return. I may not return. I may die in my quest of finding that miracle I have been looking for. Or I may come back to you, without fire, tired and out of breath. Then, I am sure, you will not love me like you do now. You will not look in my eyes with that glint in your eyes, you will not want to hold my breath in the hotness of your breath, you will not want to draw alphabets tenderly across my spine.

You can just let me go. If you donot, I will anyways go. But if you do, we will remember each other with a smile, every time we remember each other. We will remember the good times. We will remember the peacocks, the crickets, the rocks and the raised platforms.

Remember, I will remember you. I donot remember anyone till now. But I know I will remember you.

2011-07-23T11:03:00.000-07:00

I have started smoking. It is a shame, but it is true. EFLU spoiled me.

I am really sick these days. I am always out of breath and all my clothes are suddenly loose. Yesterday, I had trouble sleeping at night. I feel tired all the time.

I have stopped feeling homesick. I am alone but I like it, although sometimes I get very lonely and melancholic.

I have started preferring people only in small doses. Most people annoy me after a certain thresh-hold period of company. I get irritated by people who are snooty, more than I used to and I have started having CERELAC WHEAT, STAGE 1. Everyday, I boil water in my electric heater, mix it with 8 spoons of cerelac in a tiffin box, add sugar if there's any in the room and eat with a white spoon. My roomie strongly recommends me to wear Pampers to lab, so that I don't have to go to the loo in the middle of experiments. I love my roomie. She is amazing.

I do not miss anyone anymore. I have moved on like someone, and unlike someone else. I am auditing English classes. Yesterday I went for this awesome Socio-Linguistics class in the Department of English, School of Humanities. The professor was some 70 years old and we talked for 10 mins in the corridor about animal vocabulary.
On Monday, I plan to audit another class, a creative writing class, taken by a gay poet called Hoshang Merchant. I am slightly bored, in other words. In fact, I am so bored that I even sit and study these days. I am so ashamed of myself.

I watched a Hindi movie called 'Zindagi na milegi doabara'. I loved the Hindi poetry in the movie; which reminds me that I haven't written poetry in a long, long time.

My MSc project will start, come Monday. I got the lab I wanted. I'll work on DNA damage response in yeast. It is going to be a tough semester.

Finally, I realised something about life. It can get really boring unless you work on it. And everything including love, joy, grief is only transient. You just need to kill time doing something that keeps you occupied enough.

I also realised that I am not quite the girlfriend material.

2011-07-11T10:43:00.000-07:00

I remember going to burn his corpse. It was a January morning. He was dead when I came down for breakfast. Nobody had cried. He was garrulous, stingy and a bachelor till his last breath, lived with all of us.

I disliked him sometimes. But sometimes, I felt so sorry for him that I would run to the terrace and cry.

Nobody took him to a hospital; when he was sick, the doctor never came on time. The day before he died, someone got into a fight about spending too much money.

They carried him on a wooden bed. There were fifty corpses that day to be burned before his.There were crying women and children. There were men running around.

I was in college then. I had never seen so many corpses together. Most of them were old, some looked younger; there was one of a little girl. She had a little wooden cot.When my grandfather's turn came, they picked him and placed him somewhere else. They broke his wooden bed into pieces as a part of the ritual. I donot remember much after that. I only have faint memory of a furnace and some chants and snippets of conversation with my father's friend. Everybody kept up a firm face and looked busy.

My older grandfather had died a few months before him. I used to like him a lot till his ears got weak. He couldn't hear much by the time he died.

I donot remember feeling very emotional at their demise. I kept up a firm face, too and everyone thought I were brave.

Tonight, many years later, I suddenly feel their absence. I miss them, I want them, I want to go back.

For years, I haven't been pampered with mangoes and eclaires or have held their hands to cross the road.

For years, I haven't hidden under the bed to scare them and for years I haven't cried on their shoulders.

I haven't seen them for ages now, and I will never see them again.

2011-05-23T07:25:00.000-07:00

I am convinced about one huge thing about myself:

In order to love, I need to be in love.

Which applies to everything I do.

2011-05-11T02:26:00.000-07:00

I am stuck in a royally boring laboratory in Hyderabad. So far, it has not been anything great really, and the people here are excruciatingly silly. I am not having fun.
I thought I'd get Peter Pan to read but god knows why I changed my mind. I truly dread turning into one of these creatures in the lab I see around. They even label their own pens and books!

The biggest nightmare of my life would be to wake up one day and realise that I, too, have turned into one of these.

2011-04-30T22:15:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I went to the Dean's. A pious old man with silver hair and silver eyebrows and in a dhoti with golden borders. He was checking their answer scripts when we went.

He is the Dean of School of Humanities in our university. He reminded me of Pishemoshai. He talked to me, asked what I was doing, where I stayed, what I had plans for the summer, where I had gone for school. He spoke in broken Bengali too and warned me that he knew it enough so I wouldn't be able to abuse him much in Bengali.

He gave us tea and we chatted for an hour or so. Later, his wife joined us. And as I was leaving, I touched their feet and they blessed me.

For once in ages in my life in HCU, I felt like I were Home.
'So, you will know where to find us now. You can come back again', he said.

And then, maybe, I never wanted to leave. I do have a weakness for love, I think.

2011-04-29T15:14:00.001-07:00

I feel like a flippant dolphin in the sea.

2011-04-17T09:49:00.000-07:00

Every day I forget you a little
Times have changed and
Seasons are changing
And in the arid land I live now
The leaves are changing colours in the sun

Everyday I forget you a little
Like the way you forget me a little everyday

My smell that diffused into yours
Places that belonged to us,
The rag pickers, the beggars, the flies
The tea sellers, the beer-bottle man

Everyday they fade from my memories a little
Like they do from yours, slowly

And that day when you will set free
Remember that I will set free from your roots too
And catch the wind for a new nest

To be held by other hands
When you are holding someone else's face

Like a cluster of sunflowers in the morning.

2011-04-17T03:09:00.000-07:00

No more whining, whaning posts.

You get used to difficulties after a point of time. They become a part of living so quietly under the humdrum and bonhomie and with the passage of time -- that one day you finally completely forget that they once were real problems that used to rake your brains up. They become so normal, so mundane, so you. This is really the saddest thing.

One day, you suddenly find that you have gotten used to your own skin. In fact you feel snug, contained , comfortable in it and from that day, there is no question of self-forgiveness.

You stop thinking. For, the more you stop thinking, the happier life is, the merrier you will be.

It is really, really sad, somewhere.

2011-04-10T18:47:00.000-07:00

I feel heavy these days, irreversibly. I cannot fathom why. It could be the pre-exam blues. It could be the recent developments.

I feel uneasy and alone.

2011-04-03T00:49:00.000-07:00

But this time, I know life a tad bit more than I used to. The ground under you feet is unsettled and will always be. And life is so unpredictable and brief, you can never guess where the road forks or where the road ends.

I think it is disrespectful denying someone's existence in my life. I think it is stupid to be scared of uncertainties.
I am more comfortable with uncertainties than commitments now. Somewhere the former sounds more sincere and transparent to me.

RELOAD

2011-04-03T00:26:00.000-07:00

It is one of those times, when it seems someone just knocked the air out of your lungs. The most difficult tussles are the ones you have with yourself. Forgiveness is toughest when it needs you to forgive yourself.

I have finally chosen to let it leave me. Sometimes when a ship's moving with an iceberg tailed to it, someone or something needs to break chunks from the bigger piece, so it can move forward again, effortlessly.

For, life is too brief, I want to be weightless again. I will let this burden leave me. I will reload. I will forgive myself. I will not carry the guilt. For, it's been so draining emotionally. There has been a time when I could not look into my eyes in the mirror. Not because of what I had done, but how I had done it. I think it is true for most blunders in life, it is not what you do but how you do it.

I know it is sad to let go of old branches, but sometimes when you need to grow, you have to get rid of a few branches to grow taller and stronger. In this case I have been asked to leave anyways and I need to pack my bags for I cannot do anything to change this; I cannot be sticky to a place that has forgotten me. I have to forget this place, too.

Or, maybe, more than the place, the echoes of my own laughters and cries that reflected from the walls and ceilings of the place, stunning me by the music created by their own reverberations.

I have to forget that for once, I thought I had found a nest warmer than home.
And I know I can do this.

For it is not always relevant to preserve memories, specially when they weigh so heavy inside your heart.

Disease

2011-03-20T23:47:00.001-07:00

You play with the half-lights of lonely dusks and dawns
I can see that in the shadows inside your eyes they leave behind
The wisps of your grayish thoughts like nooses of fire;
They tangle you in a thousand knots

You are slowly dying

And I am slowly opening
Like a flower in the beams of night

Everyday, you come to me like a slaughtered butterfly in the metal air
When the perfumes of spring rip you apart, you come on torn wings
And like a firefly in fire, sometimes in shimmering nights,
Tired of forgetting or remembering

And the shadows crowd like phantoms in your blood
I can feel them in your kisses, when you give away one rib at a time
From the rickety skeleton you hide beneath
Your flesh;

You are slowly dying
In the fires of autumns and nights

2011-03-16T02:32:00.000-07:00

This gives me some solace. I had read somewhere that it is just not important to forgive others, but also to forgive yourself at times.

Forgiving yourself does not mean to justify something wrong, but to accept that you have wronged.
And to let go. Just let go.

2011-03-13T16:24:00.000-07:00

There was a house in North Road where I had belonged for a few days in my life. It came in my dream a few days back.

It had a small balcony with railings where I would sit and from its terrace you could see an abandoned chidren's playground.

There was a small garden in the rooftop and a little pavement that led to the terrace and a few steps that led to the pavement. The pavement fell right to the main entrance to the terrace. You would have to climb the stairs and turn right.

There are a few memories and secrets locked up in that pavement. I donot know though, whether they have cleared them all. They have renovated the house, I have heard.

So maybe the white, yellowing walls have been splashed with new colours and that dirty bucket, the junk tools, and the idol have been removed.

Maybe someday they will shift to another house, too.

I can never return to the house at North Road. I have lost my copy of the keys. But a part of me will always return there, from time to time. To smell the whiff of coffee from its kitchen,
and to feel the warmth of its people.

Maybe I cannot visit in person. But I will be there in some way, because it has some of my roots that I've broken away from, anchored deep to its own roots.

That little house in the corner of the alley where it stands, it came in my dreams a few days back.

2011-03-13T16:05:00.000-07:00

Tonight, once, I took out my little prism that I had hid in my mind when I had been a child, and saw that all the beautiful colours that it could reflect have darkened to morbid blue-grays.

I have come from one sad city to another. I'm moving from one sadness to another.

And the void in my life continues spreading like cancer.

2011-03-13T15:41:00.001-07:00

It is 4:11 in the clock. I have an exam today at 11. I am unprepared.

Well, that could be a good reason for some depression at this hour, had there not been worse reasons in my life now.

It does seem, I have been dreaming all the while. It does seem I am still. Just about to wake up, I am, maybe. I can sense now that it may be a dream I am in, which means maybe I am about to wake up, and my sleep is almost broken.

What goes around, comes around, they say.

I feel haunted.

I know already that I am running away. I may hit something.

That old pang again, in the middle of the night.

A chronic desire to hold another hand.

Nightmares. And an empty room to wake up to.

That coffee shop. That blue shirt.
And 16 Mandeville Gardens, Kolkata - 19.

Sprite

2011-03-12T06:05:00.000-08:00

I had a strange dream. And I woke up inside my dream where a black-haired street guy told me that I had been dreaming all the while.

He stood under a dim street light, grinning in a saffron shirt. He had one wisdom tooth. He had a bunch of keys dangling from the pockets of his shorts. He had a sparkle in his eyes.

And he broke into this lovely peal of laughter and walked away slowly. His keys jingled. A wind blew.

Then I awoke, and I was alone and sad.

Mirror

2011-02-22T12:16:00.001-08:00

I have a mirror made of glass called the Mirror. It shows me my reflection and it does so because I cannot see myself and because it cares for me.
(Albeit, I do not know whether the latter is true, but I like to believe it.)

Well, it is not as inanimate as it sounds to you. The Mirror catches my thoughts, my cravings, my fires, my beliefs, my fears, my depths, my frivolities and hold them in front of my eyes to see. And neither is it as delicate as it sounds to you, but nor is it made of hard glass. It shatters from within many times, and each time there is a crack, it catches a different reflection of a different emotion in me. Sometimes it uncovers a plethora of colours when it is in a good mood. Sometimes it reflects a string of grey shades.

I donot know what joy it gets, playing with my randomness, dazzling me with images, but it does make me fall in love with myself.

2011-02-22T11:42:00.001-08:00

I feel not a morsel of remorse anymore. The metal taste is lost, the stench of death has evaporated. And the silence that surrounded some fragmented pieces of memory has been replaced by the silence of forgetting. I realised that I am capable of letting go.

I have been uprooted and relocated. It confuses me whether I ever had a home, whether I ever belonged anywhere. It unsettles me whether I can, ever, in my lifetime, belong, somewhere.

It is difficult to have both wings and roots at the same time. But what if you realise that you have neither? neither wings, nor roots, just an illusion of both?

Lonely

2011-02-20T01:26:00.000-08:00

Yes. Again.

And also bored.

One day, when he will have a BMW to ride, and a sweeter, cuter, less ambitious and more fertile girlfriend with longer hair, I will realise what I have lost and how stupidly.

Till then, I am cool.

2011-01-29T04:15:00.000-08:00

I have a weakness for love.

2010-12-19T05:32:00.000-08:00

It was twilight and I was crossing familiar places. Familiar pavements and traffic signals and cops and buildings.
And I suddenly stopped and felt something, something from somewhere deep inside, maybe from the handful of the small things buried under all of those big sights and loud noises of the streets and strong stench of public urinals and laughter and sounds and smells and people and thoughts and feelings that all of life is cluttered with.
It was like just a small tender feather from under those layers of laid down, manufactured distractions that have become concrete now; somewhat like the feeling of the pea placed under the mattresses that the princess had once felt in one of the fables I had read early in life.

It gave me a funny, fuzzy, weird feeling. It tickled me and I twitched.

I think I missed, for a second, someone I used to be and someone I had been in love with and a few moments we had spent together when we had been together.

And then, it was all gone, in a flick, and then lost forever.

2010-12-15T01:33:00.001-08:00

2010-12-13T11:27:00.000-08:00

When I'm sleepy I am drunk
Dum Dum
When I'm sleepy I am drunk
Dum Dum
When I'm sleepy I am drunk
And I'm really really drunk
When I'm sleepy I am drunk
Dum Dum

Glass Palace

2010-10-13T05:14:00.000-07:00

There’s a place

Where tamarinds and flowers grow and crickets breed

Somewhere in the city

It breathes like a secret

Away from the humdrum and bonhomie

Trapped

Inside a bubble of gray-blue dreams

There was a glass palace there once

That glistened in sunbeams

And in drops of rain

And it was a strange house

With a strange attic

That reeked of rivers and storms

There’s nothing sadder

Than a house standing in rain

Like a lonely old couple with sticks

Yet once

There used to be cherry trees

And spring

Dancing like lovers

In its balconies

And golden blossoms that flamed

In autumn’s sun

And burnt

And clouds that crowded the skies

And melted like small wisps of dreams melt

Into morsels of memory with time

There, I once wanted to live

With a man who reeked of

Rivers and coconut trees

Away, after nightfall and away, before

The breaks of dawns in summers

To melt like clouds; and to waft like wind

In springs.

And is there anything sadder?

Than a house waiting in the rain?

2010-10-10T14:19:00.000-07:00

He smells of river and coconut trees. In the city he comes from, it is a taboo to fall in love. In the city I come from, there is a piece of my heart beating in another's body.

Sometimes we sit on an abandoned rock at night. Sometimes he settles my hair and whispers on my ears. Sometimes it's morning when I return and peacocks cry from a distance.

There's a house we've built which smells of river. It hangs in the air like a supersecondary structure with random strokes of gray-blues, the colours of dreams. It twists, turns, sashays and morphs to form new structures.

Whenever the river of his place feels lonely, it looks at the space between its fingers - that is where the silty, slender fingers of the plains will perfectly fit in.

And there, sometime at the terrace of our House that-can-never-exist, sometimes under the sky that has neither stars nor moons, sometimes behind the bushes where crickets sing, I surrender to him like river surrenders to land.

Chapter Closed.

2010-10-10T13:56:00.000-07:00

And there were no stars in the sky then.

2010-10-03T04:26:00.000-07:00

I have nothing to say.

2010-09-22T08:46:00.000-07:00

My boyfriend says that I have become a Pinky. A Pinky is a woman who wears pink nailpolish, pink lipstick and carries a pink handbag.

Slippery

2010-09-18T04:08:00.000-07:00

And then dawn broke. Coffee was brewing.

2010-09-16T23:43:00.000-07:00

Suddenly the music is over. There is no murmur of words flowing beneath quietness. The river has dried.

The one heart has broken into three little pieces with dried memories of a single river that flowed inside a bubble like a secret.

Boundaries once erased, have been redrawn.

2010-09-16T11:26:00.000-07:00

Hari found four chocolates. Hari ate one, gave his Bengali girlfriends two, his Malayali girlfriend one. How many chocolates does Hari now have to give his little niece?

LITTLE PRINCE

2010-09-16T11:23:00.000-07:00

I noticed that when he smiles, it spreads like a wave in a summer wind over his face. It wobbles through the crevice on his chin and the dimple on his left cheek. It seeps through his skin and it rustles softly underneath, and the little furrows on his face tremble.

And suddenly it spills like a river spilling from a barrage and his laughter has a ringing, jinglebell-y, Christmas-y feel.

‘What’s wrong with you?’ I say.

He says: ‘What’s your problem?’

And the smile stays in his eyes long after it leaves his lips.

2010-09-14T10:10:00.000-07:00

One day I will pack my bags and leave.

2010-08-16T05:56:00.000-07:00

I am studying in a class of geniuses. My presence here, in this bunch of walking-talking corpses, could just be an accident. But I am here. And the campus is huge. And the place is great, albeit very far from being even remotely close to home. I miss home. I miss ma, baba and gugu. I miss the terrace and the jet black Sintex tank that glistened in the half-lights of evenings. I miss the tall red building and the house under construction and that only window in it which sat like a small yellow square against the darkness of the sky.

And in nights when the darkness is too piercing, I stray aimlessly without direction through the streets of this campus with two more strangers I have found in my class.

2010-05-22T07:47:00.000-07:00

I am in the perfect mood to write: because I am hit very hard. If you follow my blog, which I am sure you do not, then you will know how this is nothing new and I will not be surprised if you are not surprised. By the way, if you donot know, I am incoherent and clumsy and do not know the 'method' of doing things the 'right' way.

Anyway, I want to move on. I am done with most people. I wish to walk alone.

Which means, I may even break up soon.

Rs. 20/-

2010-05-15T07:40:00.000-07:00

I have never prioritized money over everything else.

I ran out of money today and I was hungry and there wasn't any food home. I asked for money. He gave me twenty bucks. I asked him whether he would be short of cash and he said he wouldn't but I knew he might. So I returned him his twenty bucks because I felt horrible and I lied that I had food back home.

I am back home. I have no money and I have no food, but I am not hungry anymore. I feel horrible and I have never felt what I feel tonight. I feel sad and sorry for myself and him.

I must never run out of money in life.

2010-04-17T21:45:00.000-07:00

Isn't it sad that I cannot write well? I envy those who can. It's painful when you cannot express, really; it's painful to contain when you wish to regurgitate, and it feels like impotence.
If I were gifted with the gab, maybe I could tell you exactly how it feels - to swell up with anguish or joy, hatred or love and not being able to express yourself.
I wonder how my life could have been so complacent otherwise! I needn't have to resort to small abrupt half-thougths, half-phrases and half-lines.

Cloud

2010-02-28T05:39:00.001-08:00

It is really sad or is it?
That I come from a land of clouds?
My hair is always ruffled,
My kohl is smudged,
My dreams cocktailed and confused

And you still hold me like you are responsible
To fix and mend my kohl-smudged dreams
You are fascinated
By the kohl in my eyes
My rubble of thoughts and cloudiness

But I am just a rag picker
I collect rags of surplus thoughts
And all words are borrowed, none are mine
Of what I string to a broken verse

But you find profanity
In aimless thoughts and cloudy eyes
And you wait for me when I drift away
And you tame me like you are responsible

It’s strange of you to want to own
An aimless, straying, rambling cloud
But it’s stranger for a cloud to belong
To a single mind, body and soul.

2010-02-28T04:42:00.000-08:00

We all come from a world of clouds. Sometimes a cumulus meets a nimbus. Then they become a cumulonimbus, the greatest of all clouds.

2010-02-22T18:17:00.000-08:00

I feel like a walking, talking corpse. For long, I have not lived. I feel like shit.

2010-01-15T07:59:00.000-08:00

Just how evident had I made that I loved him? And why the hell couldn't he love me back? I am not that nutcase, I suppose?

Anyways, but now the story is different. And It was just a short-lived guest appearance before the real man came in.

2009-11-27T08:39:00.001-08:00

I have been in a relationship for 5 months now.
Life seems smoother and easier these days. Problems seem less difficult for there are always two heads to think, sadness seems bearable for there are always two hearts to contain.

Sometimes I wonder what the real importance of a relationship truly is, in life. For, you know, it could be only an opium, without you knowing it, it could change your perception.
Perceptions are after all, just electrical impulses interpretted by the brain.

And your mind can twist a few facts in the dark, when you aren't looking.

2009-11-27T08:33:00.001-08:00

I have always looked into life from one perspective and felt really brave and intrigued of the strength of my own thoughts but when it has come to living them, I have performed rather miserably.
Courage, I need, I think.

To go against the dominant thinking of your friends, of most of the people you see every day, is perhaps the most difficult act of heroism you can perform.

2009-11-25T10:00:00.000-08:00

Made on 25th November,2009. By me.

2009-11-08T08:37:00.000-08:00

There are days when nothing works your way and no matter how much you try. The printer runs out of ink, the shops run out of what you want, and your wallet runs out of money. And it's Sunday evening suddenly, when you have all the money and all the shutters are down. And no matter how much you try to get things straight, nothing works your way. And the more nothing works your way, the more nothing works you way.

And you wonder how those friends of yours are Just.Shit.Lucky. Luck is disgusting when your neighbour has it all the time.

Sanatdadu died today. I loved him. He loved me back.
At times when I was sad and I played the flute from my balcony, he'd listen from his. At times when he was sad and sang from his balcony, I'd listen from mine. At times when I went to his place, he spoke of old days and new days and then and now, and I'd listen. He spoke of Shantiniketan and red alleys. And how he hated his contemporaries who only spoke of diseases.

He never had any disease, if you ask me. Diseases are all in the mind. If your mind is diseased, it spreads like plague to the body.

He called me a few days back to fix his computer. I lied that I had exams, for it was difficult teaching him how to operate the computer.

I saw him lying, face up, in his computer room at 7 o'clock in the evening. Someone has stuffed cotton into his nose.

He's gone, by now.
His body, I meant. I won't see him sitting in his balcony when I come back home, anymore.

I broke my flute long back. It's scary, now, really, at this hour of night, for if I'm sad suddenly, I'll have nothing to play and nonone listening.

2009-10-08T08:57:00.000-07:00

'aj amadr sir ekta darun kotha bollen..
bolln life is a football match...
tui kokhno goal khabi..
kokhono dibi..
kokhono hobe tui prochur chesta korbi..but post e lege ball baire chole jabe...goal hbe na..
kokhono tui kichui korbi na..but opposition toke penalty kick mere goal korar sujog kore debe..
kajei wats imp is dat u play d game wd ur full efforts..n enjoy d game..

dont thnk jitbo na harbo..'

Doc.

2009-10-04T03:59:00.000-07:00

Things change. Perceptions change. You change with time. Maybe time changes, rather. Or, you grow old. I don't know.

Maybe you settle for the best of what you get and forget what you wanted. For, few get what they want. Most get an alternative.

There's nothing bold I am doing, if you think I am by the way, for truth anyways, isn't that relevant. What is relevant, rather, is whether you and I are sensible enough.
However, I am happy that I haven't changed and I am writing about certain things I never get a chance of venting these days. That's all.

Sometimes I hate to admit that I have made a compromise. Something that I had never thought of doing, at least not with love, you see.
It seems like people get used to everything and everything seems bearable after a certain point of time.

And it's sad, isn't it? that this post is the product of the love of my life? When it didn't happen, Poetry called. When it did, I forgot words.

2009-08-14T17:58:00.001-07:00

There's some serious trouble at homefront because some important people who have brought me up are as dead as a doornail, against the relationship.
Meanwhile, I've realised an important taste of life. It's approximately called Intensity in English.

When you madly want something crazy, the following strike you sequentially:
1. Fear
2. Excitement
3. Passion

And finally, I must add, that I am indeed, immensely, immensely surprised with myself.

2009-08-10T09:48:00.000-07:00

For sure I'm in madness but maybe I'm in love.

2009-08-09T02:42:00.001-07:00

Sparkler

2009-08-09T01:33:00.000-07:00

I am restless. There's madness and drunkenness and sleeplessness and helplessness in the air and coherence is.JUST.NOT.HAPPENING.

Madness is like a wind inside a letterbox.
I am in madness, if not love. Love is too heavy a word. Too heavy to carry around, too heavy to flaunt.
Madness is portable. Madness is mad. Nothing's crazier than madness.

I am carrying around madness like a fire in my chest.

2009-07-26T09:53:00.000-07:00

I think I am falling in love. Really.

Love.

2009-07-24T07:24:00.000-07:00

O tower of light, sad beauty

that magnified necklaces and statues in the sea,

calcareous eye, insignia of the vast waters, cry

of the mourning petrel, tooth of the sea..

O separate rose

from the long stem of the trampled bush

that the depths, converted into archipelago,

O natural star, green diadem,

alone in your lonesome dynasty,

still unattainable, elusive, desolate

like one drop, like one grape, like the sea.
(Neruda)

.... *sigh*

Hence..

2009-07-19T10:13:00.000-07:00

This was taken by a friend. I think I'm looking like the author of this blog in this picture, and I generally do not look like this in person, really.

2009-07-17T07:52:00.000-07:00

i had to tell him. You see, I had to, for I have started a new book and I am in a relationship and warm. I had to tell him because i couldn't have told him later and that was unfair on him and me. Anyways. It doesn't make much of a difference. But I'm really happy with the whole thing - that I could tell him that i had loved him and for quite some time.

He took it expectedly. So that made things happier. No problem. At all.

However, a fortnight after the incident, I feel like I am consciously trying to push him off my system.

2009-07-17T07:48:00.000-07:00

I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decideto leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
rememberthat on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.........

- Pablo Neruda

P.S: It is sad. It is sadder than this. It is sadder than a train standing in the rain. I feel a little sorry for myself.

Orkut Goodbye.

2009-06-25T05:30:00.001-07:00

I am deleting my Orkut account (a certain social networking site that's getting increasingly depressing in my life with time.)

And I decided to put up all the testimonials I had received from my friends in the past 3 years, so I can go back to them when I wish to feel good or bad, accordingly:

3/9/09 Dhrubo For a moment, step back and look at her. Looks the most beautiful inside a chapel, silent, seated, dreamy with far out gazing eyes, vision perhaps pegged to the long candlesticks on either side of the cross.Needs a lamp-post and yet my huckleberry friend grows as a person everyday. Stands by my side and looks out into the world. Is the queen of perfect evenings. And cheesy love songs.

12/21/08 Minko My huckleberry friend.

12/11/08 Sayantani amar RAI HUNNY.....

10/24/08 Rai? Who has taught you to smile like that?

10/19/08 Minko It's tuktuki's evening out. All purple.Wet tramlines and skewed curvature tops need not get clumsy. or too clear, for that matter. It's tuktuki's vision of her lime green sea-weeds.Submarine.

10/16/08 I have named you queen There are taller ones than you, taller. There are purer ones than you, purer. There are lovelier ones than you, lovelier. But you are the queen. When you go through the streets no one recognizes you. No one sees your crystal crown, no one looks at the carpet of red gold that you tread as you pass, the nonexistent carpet And when you appear all the river sound in my body, bells shake the sky, and a hymn fills the world. Only you and I, only you and I, my love, listen to it

Minko Mysteriously mercurial.Claims to have a thorough knowledge of casual lying. Just like a Matisse painting, try to get a whiff of her and a lovely afternoon will break out just before your twilight eyes, with picnic baskets scattered beneath a strawberry sky and the hint of a mischievous moon.On a good day, is unashamedly esoteric.On a bad day, hopelessly so.Rai rocks. Even when she blues.

9/15/08 Shourya Well this pretty looking girl was in her nappies when I first saw her.So you guys know that I am probably better equipped than most of you to write a testimonial for her.Sense of humor is the first thing that comes to my mind when I think of her.She is an unusual combo of beauty and brain.But any ideal match (if it exists) should have three “B” factors…..beauty brain and bank balance.So you guys know what you need to have if you are thinking of dating her.But I would better give you a warning.Don’t go by the innocent smile on her face….you never know when it turns into an impish grin.

8/14/08 GauravMy friend, Shamnath...

8/12/08 Devapriyai find peace wheni'm confusedi find hope wheni'm let downnot in me ... in Youit's in youi hope to lose myselffor goodi hope to find it in the endnot in me ...in You

8/9/08 Devapriya Rai makes me smile

6/27/08 DevapriyaLove

6/25/08 SNEHANKITA: Oh my God!!!!!!

6/15/08 RitayanA mistake brought us together, a choice made us become friends and a bond shared will be protected forever. I hope to keep this one friend of mine for as long as i live. She is an amazing girl fun to be with, deep in her thoughts and extremely romantic...and it does help that we are both crazy about rain and evening skies. She has the amazing ability to be detached and be with her self even when she is in a group yet not seem distant. She is a great person to talk to...a patient listener and a sound adviser. She plays the flute...and i think she plays it quite well...i do hope she takes it up seriously someday...here's hoping she finds the love of her life and everything else she ever dreamt of(that doesn't include the ones in which she kills cats....)

4/29/08 Ritama Once upon a time a believed in this :"Panic thy name is Rai"(remember the play before exams and you freaking out?)..But then when I realised that I was worse than her..(you taught me to be calm..you,of all people!)..I stopped thinking that way...!She reminds me of those toys with wind up keys...if you wind em up real hard..they move too fast in all directions...She is intense.(That's the only word my failing vocabulary will rovide right now)AND she is the female version of my chocolate cream soldier. Here's to all the crazy adventures we had..(remember the time we...??!!)Love you to death.*mwah*

1/5/08 Ani College wouldn’t be college without having met Rai…considering her ..ahem..”admirers” have already filled this space with no paucity of compliments I’ll refrain from doing the same. Rai is insane and she’ll drive u to madness with her medley of words delivered in the dramatic of manners! And beware if u thought her to be just a pocketful of brains, ‘coz her melodramatic takes on “life” will put even Ekta Kapoor to shame! Inspite of this she still manages to retain her sanity, enough to remind u to study and study real hard before your exams. God, what I would be doing without her last minute notes!On the upside (read downside) she doesn’t hesitate to embarrass u in public by asking questions like “the lowest attainable marks in the exam” as if she’ll get anywhere near that! Duh, my genius girl(and I mean it).Having said this there’s still space to say that Rai’s a sweetheart.And if I’m still alive after she’s read this I’d add that I can’t imagine 3 yrs without her.Love u girl!

9/29/07 // Som if i was a cartoonist the first thing i would do is to initiate a major switch. dexter in dee dee's shoes looks er.....RaIsh. hair pouring over the ears...smooth texture light very light. a habitual constant pushing it back to its place. petty but important. a phone that defies all its likes. a voice that amplifies sound beautifully into music. all converge into what seems like maybe a sequel to major romantic classics. Irony. classics are out. RaI is in.The aura of a girl next door. Essence of a lady in red. Attitude of a woman at the top. RaI has it all. With a personality that can make goofy hawkers go berserk she walks with it all...complete...as said...RaIsh...hair pouring over the ears...smooth texture light very light....man i just cant forget that part....to be continuedlightscameraaction

9/6/07 // Som e saader bhaag hobe na!!!!!!!

9/6/07 // Som RaI.NOUN."A girl ever impossible to shake off from your system"; ALSO: "A random controller of people's psychologies who feigns innocence about her own charms."e.g. "Way to go, RaI!" OR "RaI hates my elaborate style of speaking."ADJECTIVE."A pretty little thing that exhibits weakness in the knees upon the mention of ice cream." (This might be archaic.Please refer to her scraps for an update.)e.g."The RaI girl fell off the stool when she saw a chocolate sundae."VERB."The act of falling down hard and rising up harder." OR "The process of telepathic exchange of sentiments,esp. weird ones."e.g."After several years of RaIing about the bush, she finally decided to go on her pilgrimage."(The word is also known to have certain rare connotations that are confined only to a particular locus called "Room R." It may not be used in formal or informal speech without the prior approval of approximately 20,000^n of her admirers....to be continued...

9/6/07 // Som A woman under the child-like exterior,waiting to love,to be loved and cared.A child in this cruel world,waiting to be hurt,yet again and again.A thinker frm heart(expressing emotions which others may be scared to even think of.No longer the confused teenager,she speaks with conviction,keeping others in awe,though high time she realized action speaks louder than words.The girl has a spark of brilliance hidden somewhere,hiding in the clownish exterior,dont misjudge,dont misinterpret,look deep...you will find her true self. coulda. woulda. shoulda. but i didn't do any of that. it's time that i write something, even if it's impoverished and stretches only for a line or two. shes the best er...crush any miser cud possess....is always into blogs and puns...yet wen u look at this woman through her own contact lenses ull know dat her heart longs for solace...solace in success..solace in life...a fantastic person...indeed a gem of her state...her kingdom of thoughts...rajyer sree...rajyasree...luv som

6/12/07 AbhranilThe mean truth as of now, and as I see it:Pessimism > 50%Hardwork around 60%, which needs to improve.Weirdness 70% (Normal would be 40%)Confusion 67.5% (It's no absolutely meticulously computed value. It's the value between 65 & 70.)She makes a nice friend. Could have been nicer if her brainwaves were closer in phase to mine.Who gives a damn about could have been?

6/1/07 Anandarup
GIVE HER A PEN AND SHE IS AS SMART AS THEY COME....PROBLEM IS WHEN SHE OPENS HER MOUTH,ALL SORTS OF TRASH START COMING OUT...NAH!JUST KIDDING....BUT SHE IS A VERY GOOD WRITER AND ALSO A GOOD SPEAKER....OTHET THAN THAT,SHE IS FUN(I SUPPOSE),N VERY FRIENDLY(I AM SURE ABOUT THAT)....DONT KNOW IF SHE IS TRUSTY BECAUSE I HAVE NEVER HAD TO CONFIDE IN HER,BUT THE GENERAL COSENSUS IS THAT SHE IS....WELL,THATS ALL I HAVE TO SAY ABOUT HER...

2009-06-15T09:39:00.000-07:00

You find Home in the most unusual places.

For instance, in the air when it reeks of the perfumes of evenings and of musty lost times.

For instance, in the sky when it is red after a sunset and on a round seat around a shegun tree.

Or, for instance in a pair of eyes, when you have blindly rambled randomly; and then that holds your gaze warmly and fondly, assures you that nothing is lost, really.

You find love when you least expect it.

2009-06-05T09:30:00.000-07:00

A new chapter may open in my life in sometime.

It may or may not or may or may not or may, by the way, but let’s just sound positive for a change? Shall we?

You know? The day before yesterday, I was walking down a bridge in South Calcutta. And as I looked around and smiled at the people scurrying, the buses and the train lines, and at the giant clock in the sky, I realized suddenly that I was no longer lonely and it was no longer scary to be alone.
But then it’s not that I didn’t feel like the yellow-wasp-in-the-city-accidentally, it’s just that I felt I could survive it all, forget it all, forgive it all.

So I was humming under my breath, a very old song that the wind brought with it.

I think, in the drive of looking for happiness, I have started liking myself a little.

Dust in the Wind . . .

2009-06-02T10:08:00.000-07:00

I close my eyes, only for a moment, and the moment's gone
All my dreams, pass before my eyes, a curiosity
Dust in the wind, all they are is dust in the wind
Same old song, just a drop of water in an endless sea
All we do, crumbles to the ground, though we refuse to see
Dust in the wind,
All we are is dust in the wind
Don't hang on, nothing lasts forever but the earth and sky
It slips away, all your money won't another minute buy
Dust in the wind,
All we are is dust in the wind ...

2009-05-17T09:03:00.001-07:00

Some people have repeatedly insisted that I am too depressing for a twenty year old. I think they are partly right, as I have been going through my blog for the last sixty minutes.

hence, I have decided to come back with something happy and cheerful, and soon.

2009-05-10T06:42:00.000-07:00

I have been in love with someone for a very long time now. So I decided to write it down somewhere.
It is funny how ideas of love are sold in movies and novels. It is funny, really. It is funny how people fall in love at first sight or in a mouse-click or how they can never tell whether it's a thing or a person.

Am I lecturing you, am I?

The reflection of sunset on glass is beautiful, possibly better than the sunset itself. So I am happy we aren't together and I am happy about the boundaries.

And I am lonely suddenly, and also sad when it's evening these days.

There's just a part of me that loves fiddling with the sad things. The small ones, the small sad things.

2009-05-10T06:38:00.000-07:00

I think, more than success, it is wisdom where the real celebration of life lies.

2009-04-30T07:24:00.001-07:00

I have lost a few good friends, of late. Some of them are aware, some of them are not.

And I was distracted for a long time now, I don’t know why. I guess I was just taking an unplanned break from the old me. And it’s been a long unplanned break, I think.

A year and a half of being someone else, of traveling blind and of traveling far, I guess I have learnt my lesson and I guess I need to come back home. And this might be disappointing to all.

I want to be detached. I want to be alone. I want to sit back and count stars. And possibly, I want to start again then, from scratch.

And I want to thank Ani who keeps reminding me of my priotities.

2009-03-06T10:59:00.001-08:00

The good news is: I've realised what I want to be in life. The sad news is: it is so difficult that it's hardly possible.
The moral is I am a little pessimistic and I give in a little too early.
The fun part is I know I have one life and one chance and it is so funny to give up on something like this, that I want this passionately. But, I'll tell you what, right now, I am a little low on hope and belief and that is what is causing all the trouble.
But maybe, there is no problem ! Apart from the fact that I am being stupid for I leave no other option, the kind of person I am, other than following my heart.
I think I was talking about a good thing that has happened in my life? I now know what I want from life? Yes, right, err. But you see, right now, I am having a hard time, for a mysterious force is almost on the verge of convincing me how everything is impossible. If you are reading this right now, whoever you are, and if you are having a problem in your life too, let's do a little trick. Let us wish together that everything will be fine and the Universe is with us.

Words

2009-03-06T10:44:00.000-08:00

I have heard
In a pair of eyes

The whispers of rain
And the sounds of words running
Beneath quietness.

And I have also heard
A few strange beautiful things.
Like trails of thoughts and half-thoughts ripple
In an ocean of words
Where twilights float like memories.

Words were then,
Some bags of tricks
Too many, too few.

Vizag

2009-03-02T05:02:00.000-08:00

..and past midnight on our way back, we were hanging from a running train.

2009-02-28T07:34:00.000-08:00

I am having difficult times. Difficult days, these. Difficult task, this. The toughest fights are those that you fight with yourself.
Meanwhile, I am venting all my frustrations out to people who donot deserve them.

I went to the terrace tonight. There is something about the winds on rooftops that gives me hope. That reminds me of the valour of a person I admire a lot, a quest and a dream. The past has sogged on neglect; I have to rejuvenize lost strengths, I think, and relocate the misplaced jigsaw pieces. For they say, when you set out for treasure, every little step of the journey is a moment's encounter with eternity.

And here, I know now how miserable I am in prose, and I'm sad that I couldn't give you even a morsel of what I'm feeling. And I really donot mean to not share with you, but I guess I am bad with expressions, I'm sorry; I donot want to give you the wrong impressions. Then you may start feeling sorry for me and piss me off completely.

Bruised

2009-02-26T03:29:00.000-08:00

I guess I have stopped believing in everything. Some people learn the hard way.

2009-02-16T09:19:00.000-08:00

I have spent a long time listening to the sound of water running. It was past evening and the night floated over the water tank.
There were shadows in the terrace moving. There were stars in the dark, water in their eyes. So I made circles with my fingers in the air, hummed a tune. And the night showed me the flowers through the garbage, the treasures through the leftovers, all what are found only in half-lights and moonbeams.

And then the wind broke into this lovely peal of laughter . For once I felt rich , for this clumsy mess you call life gave a jolt in my heart.

It felt nice for I was terribly sad, you see. For I had missed a few trains and taken a few wrong turns in life.

I really don't have anything to write on today. It's been a long time and a worthless try and I feel like a little dot in the universe. Too little for sadness or joy, problems or solutions.

Sin

2009-01-25T07:59:00.000-08:00

He said my eyes looked sad

He lifted my face gently
Held my face in his eyes
So I could hear the smile in his sockets
The words in his smile-

And the sun leaked through a hole in the roof-
Burnt like red gold
So our bodies blazed like flames in the attic
Our shadows melted like butter

And my breath he held in his own's,
Sealed my eyes with kisses
Then seasons swayed in my heart,
A storm, a rain, an ocean
A hymn that filled the world.

Drunk in a mildness older than dawns
A wildness older than nights
In the tricks of wispy half-lights
And cloudy half-asleepness

He said he could set me free.

The CORRS.

2008-12-26T00:28:00.000-08:00

Khodar kasam, jaan...

2008-12-23T08:20:00.000-08:00

... ami bhalobeshechhi tomaaye =)

This. brings back all those worlds.