priorities switch !!

After a 3n a half years of loyalty, I finally changed my cell. My friends were as excited as I was, especially my room mate, coz she would finally listen to different ringtones!! as I inserted my sim into the new handset, I realised what a tough job lays ahead... copying my contact list... as i had loads of time ahead, i thought i would do it manually, n sort out wanted and unwanted numbers... it took me a night, and that night taught me a lot... about myself, about my life, about my priorities... my previous cell had a list of 800 odd contacts, n after i filtered them, i transfered only 273 of them to my new one. as i came across names starting with "A" and ending in "Z", i realized, how priorities have changed.

a certain name, which occupied the maximum space in my call log once, has remained untouched for time unknown to me. a certain name which entered my phonebook only a year n half now reigns over my call log.

a certain number once had all my utmost secrets in its msg box, now there's hardly any. a certain number was once my morning alarm, it doesn't exist anymore. a certain number was my trobleshooter for all situations, i hesitate to dial that number now.

some names made me smile, some names made me cry, some names made me angry, and some names irritated me; yet some names made me feel guilty... of broken promises, of promises to keep in touch, of being friends forever, of fights, arguements, break ups.

i realized, how priorities have changed, rather switched, from one person to another. so many faces came and went away, in a brief span of 3 n a half years, so many people became important in so many ways, and then so many lost their importance.

yet the process continues, new names enter the contact list everyday, only to become old in the course of time. strangers become friends, n vice-versa... the process of adding and deleting continues... so like life!!!

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

a corporate once said...

i love my air conditioning... 
but i preferred my open window 
i love my fancy shoes, 
but i preferred walking barefeet across the meadows
i love the city ambience,
but i miss my serene village
what is modernisation
is also the loss of innocent bliss
small wishes, and unkempt desires remain blank
i look at the phosphorescent patterns on my ceiling
and remember the night skies of yesteryears...

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

muted...

when the voice within,

is not the voice without

when what i intake

is not what i absorb

and what i emit

is not what i release

when desperation cries out

with muted yells...

i know... i realise... life is just a performance

memoirs

as the dusk merges with darkness, 
and a new dawn awaits... 
a question that always arises, 
was the day well lived...
 memoirs of the past, 
filled a lot of the album of life... 
but pages ahead lay bare,
                                                                        for us to fill up...
                                                                        life goes on!

every drop matters?

… And then comes the dusk,

The time for home and hearth,

Back to my empty flat, the jingling of the door keys

A warm bath and a quick mug of coffee…

The balcony,
The creeping sound of the backdoor opening

The empty armchair, soon occupied

The light goes off…

Black glass.

Rain water seeping through it.

Drop by drop trickling down… and down.

Submitting itself to the puddle forming below.

Adding on to it, every drop makes a difference.

The coffee mug.

Above it, whirls of smoke rising up,

And up, disappearing into the void.

The fag is lighted.

All a dusky hue,
Except its end, glowing red,

Proudly.

One puff, a cough, and the eyelids close

Taking it in, absorbing it.

As it spreads, the senses numb with every puff.

The downpour outside grows,

The eyes open,

Looking through the glass.

Horns of cars that swiftly pass by.

Men women and children

Trotting by.

The street glistens with rain water,

The puddle is growing bit by bit.

Every drop matters, or it doesn’t?

The coffee is cold, and untouched.

The cigarette reaches its butt end.

I crush it down, putting out is proud red glow.

An eternity seems to have passed.

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…