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An Ending

It wasn’t the ending she had hoped for. It didn’t fit with her prolonged fantasy about this moment. She had pictured it differently in her infinite bound mind. To begin with, she didn’t imagine the day would turn out to be so gloomy, so disastrous. The incessant rain, worsened by the roaring of wind was only reminding her of the emptiness that filled every square inch of her chest. Her damp clothes were hanging limply around her somewhat shrunken frame, sending repeated shivers through her spine. She was dying for some warmth. She was probably missing another human's touch against her numb skin. She was losing out on way too many things lately. Why today? She couldn’t help feeling a little resentful. But then almost immediately she got the answer from herself. The universe doesn’t give a damn about her moment. No, not really. 
Rain or no rain, she expected this moment to be a lot more emotional. But no, they didn’t hug before parting ways. No farewell wishes were spoken. Nobody l…
Recent posts

The Many-Faced God

Ok first let’s make this clear. I am not suicidal. I am not contemplating killing myself. This is not a suicide note. If I die after writing this it would either be an accident or someone has murdered me (I’m sorry I’m reading too many whodunits these days). It is just another blog post. The topic might sound creepy but then you see, writing about cute things is not really my forte. Everyone has got their own style. So someone writes heart wrenching, feel good stories of her day to day life in the capital city of India. Someone writes about her travel stories and her (so far unsuccessful) trysts with men. Someone writes about recipes. I write about creepy stuff. That’s my thing. And whenever those episodes of depression and mental turbulence hit me I get awesome ideas in my head. Well, you see as long as you are living in those little bubbles of temporary happiness you try not to look at the harsher aspects of life. You shut your eyes really tight and try to recall the taste of wine …

Pujo Outfit: 2/2

Ashtami and Nabami were the most fun-filled days but rain played spoilsport. We (D and I) couldn't get to wear saree owing to obvious reasons. And mine was a cotton white one! Ashtami evening was spent at the complex playing silent but secretly disgruntled spectator of the cultural programme that got right on our nerves. Even the photo session was a tricky one. It's not easy to balance umbrella in one hand and use the spare one to click that perfect instagram shot. D's parents were out of station on a trip so we had the whole place to ourselves. A freedom that we celebrated watching TV at the highest volume and eating Maggie at 12 o' clock in the night sprawling over the floor. Well, we are geniuses. On Nabami morning D and I set out to explore south Calcutta pandals. We had just left Ekdalia Evergreen and were having a late breakfast at the nearby Cakes shop when it started raining. Rain, like the devoted partner, kept us company till we hopped into a dilapidated yel…

Pujo Outfit: 1/2

Let's begin with an honest confession. I had a shitty pre-Pujo time this year. Usually the pre Pujo period feels better than the actual Pujo days. The month long anticipation time is much better than those blink-and-you-miss five days. But this year I had reached such an almost half dead state before Pujo that not only the fun of counting the days was totally gone but also I was dreading every moment of upcoming festivity. Pujo was early this year so the late October chill was not in the air. Instead it was stiflingly humid and hot. And maybe I am really losing something with age but I really couldn't smell Pujo in the air this time. But to be honest, most of the time my nose was blocked due to excessive crying. There you go. I just cracked a joke on my misery. I rock! But then miracle happened. And despite a completely sleepless Shosthi night (No I was not busy pandal hopping, I was in my bed lying wide awake, wallowing in dread and agony), and a scandalously strenuous Sapta…

Shubho Bijoya

There are times when I regret not blogging in my native tongue. Few minutes ago while watching Belur Math’s thakur bhasan on tv I again felt a pang of that regret. Every year, every single year when Ma’s idol hits the water and it sounds jhopang I realize the inevitable lump in my throat doesn’t speak any other language but Bangla and Bangla only. Every year I think I have grown up this year; I am not going to cry. And then Navami nishi comes and the lump begins to build up. By the time the idol boards the mini-truck and Ma’s vermilion smeared face suddenly starts to look unbelievably alive in dying yellow light my self-control betrays me. My vision goes blurred and I have to make excuses to people for leaving the Bijoya gathering. I look at my eyes, the tip of the nose in the mirror and wonder. Even after all this time? Where do you keep all this innocent sentiment you silly girl? I don’t have an answer. I am just having a hard time taming this engulfing emptiness in my chest that I…

Yeti Obhijan

Though I am a voracious reader of all entertainment related news (both global as well as local) I was not aware of the next Kakababu adventure movie until two weeks back. And you can’t blame me. I don’t watch Sangeet Bangla and the tabloids are apparently more interested in ‘actor’, ‘superstar’ Dev’s latest venture whose reports I avoid in fear that I might end up vomiting on the sofa. When Kuntala di expressed her wish to watch Yeti Obhijan on her blog I thought she must be talking about some NatGeo documentary film. But in Bengali? I got my answer the very next day. I was going by auto from Ultodanga to Sovabazar metro and I saw the poster. So after Mishawr Rohosyo Srijit was coming with his next Kakababu-Santu story. I have never been a fan of Kakababu series but something in me told me that I must watch this movie.

What compelled me to watch this movie? I hadn’t read the book before and I can guarantee it was hardly a big miss. I never liked this very popular Sunil Ganguly charac…

Quote of the Week

Don't do it. Unless it comes out of your soul like a rocket, unless being still would drive you to madness or suicide or murder, don't do it. Unless the sun inside you is burning your gut, don't do it.

When it is truly time, and if you have been chosen, it will do it by itself and it will keep on doing it until you die or it dies in you.

There is no other way.

And there never was.

-- Charles Bukowski