tumi chhile... aaj o achho...

Chhile bhorer prothom rod

Ushnotay bhoriye dewa

Chhile sheetol shomiron

Mon k chhuye jawa

Tumi chhile brishti…

Jar chhowa, barbar, protibar

Bhijiye dito e deho k…

Swopner rong tuli te anka rongdhonu chhile tumi

Dile rong, dile prem, dile hajar hajar protisruti

Kintu aaj? Tumi ki? Tumi k?

Fnaka ghor… chhera choti…deshlai baksho…

Chhai r chhai… dhnoa r dhnoa

Tumi kobi? Tumi lekhok?

Na, tumi raastar dharer bhenghe jawa neon baati

J chhilo shuborno, se aaj eto kalo?

Raatri haray sei aandhare tar aalo...

Tumi kranti? Tumi andolon?

Na, tumi rokto pipashu pishach…

Tai tumi laal…

R ami vebechilam tumi bhalobasha !

Tumi nobin? Tumi nuton?

Na, tumi hingsha... tumi krodh…

Tai tumi shobuj

R ami vebechilam tumi boshonto !

wish i were benjamin button!!!

Sometimes I imagine, why can’t there be second takes in life?

No philosophy intended, I was just going through some random college snaps, when I realized, all of a sudden that almost a year past, I suddenly want to be a part of all the pictures, have a share of all the memories that were created during those three blissful years of my college life. Canteen, quadrangle, union room, room number 23, and all that could be accommodated at 86/1 college street, my alma mater… I want to live it all over again. I want to go and attend every class, and I also want to bunk every class and be a part of every adda that took place in the canteen, join every procession that started from the union room, cry at every failure n rejoice at every success of a certain “neel rong”.

I want to have every meal at the dingy CHEENESE and bargain for every book bought at “boipara”. I want a bottoms up for every cup of tea at Promod Da’s and I want to sleep all my way on the hostel bus on the shoulders of a certain someone.

Presidency taught me all about life, yet in a very beautiful way. We learnt the tough way, but the learning was blissful with friends all around. The college gave us an identity, taught us who we are and what our potentials are. At the end of three years, we graduated in life, not only in our subjects.

Yet, how strange it feels to think we are no longer a part of it, the benches we once occupied are now taken up by a bunch of known and unknown faces, who would repeat these very lines once they are out of the place. Feels strange to realize how fast the hands of the giant clock called life moves… 

tete-a-tete

The heart and the mind converse,

I bear a silent witness to it.

They fight, argue, make-up, break-up, do it all…

I sit, simply tapping my feet, yet it’s not so simple.

Ever seen that grin across my face?

That’s when heart has things its way.

Ever noticed the frown across my forehead?

That’s when mind takes over.

My face, it always sides with my heart.

But the eyes, always loyal to the mind.

Whom do I side?

Probably none…

Whoever wins, I am always the loser

Why?

I trust my heart, I rely on my mind.

They go on, the two naughty brats,

Bitching about each other…

“What happened when you started thinking with your heart?”

“Oh really? What when the mind could not decide?”

Stop now, the two of you.

And strangely, as I shout at them,

They become the best of friends!!!

“Okay, we don’t say anything, happy?”

Unbelievable…

Cummon now! I thought you were mine.

Help me out.

“It’ll be fine, do whatever makes you feel good.”

“Hell, no! You need to be practical.”

And it starts all over again.

Shit.

Why didn’t I allow them to not say anything?

But how could I?

They are me, I am them.

I let them deal.

The heart and the mind come to a conclusion,

I bear a silent witness to it.

p.s. – thanks to a special someone for the thought. I merely put it in my words, rather saw it through my eyes.

i thought i would move on...

I thought I would move on

but the same hallucination

the same ringing voice

I thought it would leave me.

My first love, starting from the days

of adolescence.

The first days when the realization

dawned upon me…

The realization of love, romanticized

to the extreme;

You were the one who came out

straight out of the pages of some novel.

Ruffled hair, shabby kurta, high

sounding words, a cigarette in hand

Yet dreamy eyes, artistic fingers.

U were careless yet very caring

A love I worshipped, looked up to

N then the real world dawned upon me

U became blurred, yet never

Non existent.

I loved n lost, loved n lost

Never felt alone, coz u were there

Always with me, when I was happy

I forgot u, when hurt, I wanted u,

U were there.

A witness to all those lonely nights

N wet pillow

U heard those silent screams

That calm madness, u saw it.

You were, u are , n u will b

Every dream I see, I wish it were u.

You are a lie

But a truth greater than any truth.

A stranger, yet my closest confidant

N now I never want u to leave me.

I hear your voice again,

But never can I see u.

Still, I am happy u r there.

ages, stages n places...

growing up has not only meant growing in ages for me, it has also been growing through stages n places...with every shift in place, i have known that its time for growing up... i shifted first at 5, then at 13, then 18, and then at 21... i have grown up in four phases... n i know there's a lot left to grow still... with every shift there have been new people, new environment, new rules and regulations,( new freedoms too), but 1 thing has remained intact, adjustment.. an old thing to b done with all the new things.. 
nevertheless, life has been worth living despite these shifts....and the footprints... that have been left on the shifting sands of time... only to look back... and cherish memories, laugh and cry over lived moments...wishing some would repeat, and some would never have happened... all in a flashback, and again looking forward to creating more of moments... day and night, night and day, life happens...to me, to everyone…

6 degrees of separation

Its the random thoughts and the unspoken bond

The broken strings and yet the attached cello-tapes

The running between rooms or the fleeting glimpses

Its the six degrees of separating separations...

[P]

It’s the drinking and the puking

It’s cheering for every grade

It’s a celebration, it’s a memory

It’s more than just a passing phase...

[AJ]

Its the fights and differences

its about being smitten by each others enthusiasm

its the varying wavelengths of attitude

but mainly about balancing the rhythm of friendship

[AG]

It’s the kisses and the misses

It’s the group studies and the gossips

It’s the eating and then walking

It’s the separation which always ends in meeting again

[T]

its the tea in the mess and 'n' number of glasses,

the rumage for the seats for lunch and for classes,

Its the fights, the laughs, the claps and Shanghai

Its the 6 degrees entwined in  the "Us" and the "I".

[M]

its the bread&mayo n hot water bags 

the 500bucks per head n personalised surprises 

its the american pies n dominoes fever 

the separating every second n uniting forever... 

[D]

p.s. - this is a post created at random by the 6 pods in a pea,  on the uneventful night of the 24th of feb, 2010, and will appear on the blogs of all the pods...

the pods : "P"- Paulami aka Polo

                     AJ - Aashi joshi

                    AG - Anu G

                       T - Anwesha aka Teddy

                M - Amropali aka Mango
                D - Debashree aka Debo

the pen ruined us...our childhood...

i wonder why i started writing with a pen... it was different earlier. when i used to write on slate with chalk. mum taught me, she said it was ok if i made mistakes, i could always rub it and start all anew... afterall, we all learn by making mistakes. i rubbed n wrote, rubbed n wrote, rubbed n wrote until both the legs of A became proportionate, until i could make the perfect half rounds for B and a flawless curve for C. D, P n R weren't that difficult once i got past B. G n S were the toughest to learn n i hated them. but mum said i could always rub n write... once in a while she would rub the slate with a wet cloth, n it would become as good as new. i liked its cool surface then, i would press my cheek against it n absorb the cold. it felt just like her hands when she came out of the kitchen...

then  i started writing on paper with pencil. it was good, i felt like a grown up. i was but a bit upset when i learnt i wasn't allowed to make as many mistakes as before. i would have to be careful. in case i made a mistake, i could erase, but it would leave a faint shadow behind, which was not very welcome. i tried my best, tried to become perfect at every stroke, started to make tails for "a" and "c" and "p" and so on. mistakes were still rectifiable, n unless anyone made a deep scrutiny, my copies were more or less clean.

the excitement started to grow as the time for writing with a pen approached nearer n nearer. so many varieties in the market, i simply could not decide which to use as my first... it was a big thing you know, writing with a pen! what excitement, what joy, what fun would it be!! my first was a "WING-SUNG" ink pen, i had put "CHELPARK" ink in it. now, all the excitement apart, i was adviced to be very careful of what i wrote, no mistakes were accepted any longer, coz what once done could never be undone. i realised, i grew up... i cannot rub n write, rub n write, rub n write. i cud always cut it, but that would make a deep, unforgiving mark on my paper. 

no longer was life crystal clear. no longer was i young enough to make mistakes n learn, no longer wud faults remain mild shadows behind corrected words, but every mistake would remain dark, n unforgiving.  I wonder, why did i ever start writing with a pen, why did the blissful years of slate n chalk pass away... why did pencil-years become fast fading? why can't i rub n write, rub n write, rub n write? why can't she clean it for me with a wet cloth,  make the slate cool n soothing anymore...

 
 P.S - I am participating in Share Life Blogger Contest(sponsored by  Tata Docomo) under the category My friends. My life. My phone.