To You.

There is something about you that makes me want to find me in your eyes..

Of Shattered Dreams.

An escape route.

To drown every failure.

To suppress every desire.

To kill my soul.

Where to? Where to?

I walked a freaking lot today. Through lanes and by-lanes that I never knew existed. You'd think I were escaping from somebody / something if you could trace the strange route I took. But I really was escaping from myself. Escaping reality. Which I couldn't, though. Would suicide be the only way of escaping from myself?

Shadows On My Wall

How long can you constantly keep staring at the ceiling or the walls? Do you search for images on your walls? I’ve just found a man suffering from elephantiasis with gorilla-arms living in my room. On the ceiling. A bunny rabbit on the wall to my left. A walrus balancing a ball on its snout on the ceiling at the far end. And the initials of a very dear friend written below the tube light. Tomorrow, when I am to look at the walls, I’m sure I’ll discover new creatures in my room. Pretty amusing, you know. I suggest you try it, that is, if you haven’t already, when you’ve got nothing better to do. You could just catch yourself advertising for Surf Excel. ‘Daag acche hote hai!’

A Thing Called Love

Nahin saamne yeh alag baat hai

Mere paas hai tu mere paas hai

Mere saath hai mere saath hai..

It was 11:50 in the night. She was going to be nineteen in ten minutes now. She was waiting for the call. His call. It was a festive night. Outside the window, beside her bed, she could see her city decked up with lights for the occasion. She received the call at 11:54. He couldn’t let anybody else wish her before him of course. With a grin plastered on her face she heard him sing to her at the stroke of midnight. The crackers outside her house seemed to be controlled by him. What perfect timing! It just had to be the best birthday of her life. She knew it already..

Thirty years later, he woke up from his sleep. It was 11:54 in the night. Her birthday was in minutes. He’d sing to her again just like he’s been doing for so many years now. As he sang she smiled back at him, the way she’d always done, from the dog-eared photograph he’d preserved for so long now. It was raining outside. None of the festive spirit was to be seen tonight. The rain came down in pellets. He opened the creaking window. Warm droplets of water trickled down his face to meet the icy cold droplets of rainwater. The wind felt crisp and fresh against his skin. He sensed it immediately. She was very happy. Just as happy as he was with her. She was still alive. In all his senses. A freak accident couldn’t separate them. Never. He wiped his tears away.

P.S.: This is my first attempt at fiction writing for the blog. I started on this on a sudden whim today after reading some Twitter-sized-fiction on Twitter. Well, this wasn't exactly 140 characters. So it found a place in my ever dying blog. :P

Conflicting Feelings

I can’t stand up straight what with my head spinning like hell. But I still suddenly feel very happy. And sad.

A distant neighbour has chosen to play some beautiful Rabindrasangeet. I don’t understand why but these songs seem so pujo-like at the moment. Maybe it’s just in my mind. Because for all I know, it isn’t in the song. But the point is that I feel happy all of a sudden. A feeling I have only fleetingly known for quite a few weeks now. Images of chokkhudan are flashing across my mind. It’s amazing how even the thoughts of pujo cheer me up like this. In spite of the fact that I don’t believe in worshipping the Gods..

The weather though is extremely depressing. Foul winds and rain. I might have appreciated it at other times but I really can’t right now. It somehow, in some convoluted manner, reminds me that I can’t possibly be with the person closest to my heart, right now. Every disease would have become much less nagging if only I could talk to the person for a while. Mindless blabber would even suffice. Really.

Needs.

I need my monkey. Back from the bushes into which it was once shoved 15 years back.

I need a hug. A nice and warm bear hug.

I need somebody to tell me that even though I'm a moron in many ways, I'm not all rotten.

I need some sleep. But I suppose I won't be getting that soon now.

I need to cry. Cry myself hoarse. When nobody is around.

And. Most importantly, I need to die. Or get back from the dead. Or something to that effect.

Well, that’s all for now. Go get back to your complicated lives. Shoo.

...

I am back. From the dead. But I ain't sure how long it'll be before I return to the dead..

A Thank You Message

Sometimes certain actions by people can make you feel very special. It is really nice to be reassured that somebody [Read: somebody who does not normally express his emotions frequently] actually takes you and what you say seriously or spends time thinking about what you would appreciate or does something for you in spite of certain difficulties. It's not that affection for a person depends on what he does for you but the fact that it gives you a pleasant feeling cannot be ignored. And moreover you realize all over again how important you are to the person.

I find it very difficult to say thank you to my parents. Somehow it seems very formal. An enthusiastic smile is all they get. But it's different in writing. So here's a formal thank you to baba for what he did. Thank you baba! I loved the surprise!



P.S.: And I just realized that I have an urge to write before my Mechanical Science exams. I wonder why...

Frustrated Thoughts

Why is it that Nabla ma'am always asks me what she had taught last week? I never seem to know anything about what she teaches and then she looks at me as if I were some alien from Neptune sitting in a class of humans... Yes, I do admit that I yawn every two seconds in her class but I do not fall asleep like the others who she thinks are interested in her class. Staying awake is quite an acheivement on my part. I'm in grave need of acting lessons!

Photos!

Since I don't feel like writing anything at all at the moment and I'm being forced to post something by LD here are some pictures taken by me. I'm very fond of abstract photos but very bad at capturing them. So adept photographers please forgive the new kid on the block.



Cycling through smoke?

eeeeeeeeee

A city of diversities- My city

This was taken during the immersion of Durga thakur last year. Hoping this year pujo will be as much fun as it was last year.