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Showing posts from 2017

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

Of GAD and Fear

How does it feel like to be living with Generalised Anxiety Disorder? Google says it is the most common form of mental illness; even more than depression. Women are more prone to having GAD than men and most of these people spend their entire life being undiagnosed and untreated. But these are just dry facts. How does it exactly feel like to have this disease?

Some research says GAD has some genetic legacy. Like many pathological psychotic disorders it might too run in the family. I haven’t studied psychology so I cannot give any expert comment on that. But I can share an interesting fact here. Both my parents suffer from anxiety. My mother’s reactions usually go outward. She screams and jumps about the house. And she admits to be staying awake whole night worrying about things that may or may not befall us. My father’s case is a more disturbing one. He doesn’t speak much. But I have seen him sitting in the corner of the sofa dead silent with a look on his face that is all too famili…


When you have many topics in mind but nothing materialises properly writing becomes a tough task. Whole day you spend writing lines after lines in your head and when you come back home and finally sit to jot it all down you feel totally lost. Not a very good feeling. It’s a bad kind of writer’s block. Since I always travel to and fro from being alright to empty in matter of seconds writer’s block is a usual phenomenon to me. I hardly take it seriously anymore.
Last week I couldn’t post anything here. I was away. Out of station. I had a trip down south. No no, I did not travel to the underworld, but I can tell you the experience was somewhat similar. This is the first trip since I started my blog which will not turn into any travelogue. Not even a single line. Over the years I have learned one thing. Never define any event in your past as a ‘worst’ one. Oh the worst year of my life! Or, that was the worst birthday ever. Or, that was the worst relationship I have ever had. Don’t dare t…

Quote of the Week

And taking her friend's hand, she put it on her breast, on that firm round covering of a woman's heart which the male often finds so satisfying that he makes no attempt to find what lies beneath it.

-- Guy de Maupassant


Until about two years ago I used to be one of those hopeless romantics who believe in impossible oxymoron like unrequited love. In this modern era of one night stands and using app to find soulmate there is still a certain segment of people who is constantly seeking a solid purpose in everything. What is life without some good old purpose? We live in a weird world. We grow up being taught Romeo and Juliet or Shesher Kobita as ultimate relationship goals. And then when adulthood hits us in the face and we are suddenly thrown up in a world where casual sex, infidelity and divorce are talked about as haughtily as part of pop culture. Our confusion begins from there. Blessed are those who are quick to accept and become just another passing face in the crowd in no time. But what about us? We, the ones with rock solid faith bordering on being zealous to bloody end? Every single day of living becomes a struggle for us. What to choose? The easy way out or the right path? Not to mention there…

Ola and Rosogolla

It was around 4 o’ clock in the afternoon perhaps. I looked out of the library window and spotted a thick layer of darkness hindering my vision. The inactive fountain on the courtyard, the pink IIT building with a little swatch of sky on its back which was supposed to have a dull orange look at this time of the day, all had been soaked into an untimely shade of black. It was going to rain.
I am not a rain lover, especially when there was only an hour and half till we left office. And rain in Calcutta means water-logging, traffic jam and hiked Ola/Uber pricing. When I finally called it a day and started climbing down all I could hear was the deafening sound of rain lashing against window pane. I had booked an Ola share after half an hour of desperate struggle. My eyes were fixated on phone. I was keeping a close watch on the movement of cab which was still fifteen minutes away.
I hate Ola share. The free tour of half of the city with pain in the ass strangers is the kind of experience…

Quote of the Week

"The purpose of life," Munro said, "is to stay alive. Watch any animal in nature - all it tries to do is to stay alive, it doesn't care about beliefs or philosophy. Whenever any animal's behavior puts it out of touch with the realities of its existence, it becomes extinct. The Kigani haven't seen that times have changed and their beliefs don't work. And they're going to be extinct."
"Maybe there is a higher truth than merely staying alive," Ross said.
"There isn't," Munro said.

-- Michael Crichton | Congo

Current Mood

The other day my friend D was lamenting how badly she wanted to say 'fuck you' to someone. It was one of those soul sisters moments for us when she was expressing my wish through her words. In fact the urge to utter those two words into one awesome phrase is so high in me these days that I am avoiding human contact as much as possible. Colleagues, random GoT spoilers spreading bastards, the girl who won't stop bragging about her recent admission to Presidency University, opportunist nri housewife trying hard to prove she is a crossbreed between Oprah and Erin Brockovich with a dollop of Taslima Nasreen. I am constantly being reminded of that iconic sequence from the movie Behind Enemy Lines. Life is hardly medieval battle drama for us that we would go about decapitating anyone who pisses us off. And I don't even have a dragon to do the nasty work on my behalf.

Thoughts of the Moment

vI didn’t read a single book during the first quarter of 2017. Now I am in a race against time to make up for the loss. Happiness makes one unproductive at times. It does to me at least. It takes some turmoil, some pain in order to bring out the best in me. So I am on a reading marathon now. I am keeping my head immersed in the mystical world of written words during my lazy afternoons, my tired evenings, and those long, silent, sleepless nights. That’s probably the best way to keep the cacophony of the throbbing silence away that is pecking at the inner walls of my brain all the fucking time. I had an initial target of three books per month. Now I am on the twelfth book of this year.
vYesterday I went to attend a family function with my mother. I would usually fake my death rather than getting stuck in a place surrounded by relatives. But this was a memorial ceremony so even my most clever excuses would have sounded insensitive. So I went. It wasn’t so bad though. Even though I realise…

Quote of the Week

My gripe is not with lovers of the truth but with truth herself. What succor, what consolation is there in truth, compared to a story? What good is truth, at midnight, in the dark, when the wind is roaring like a bear in the chimney? When the lightning strikes shadows on the bedroom wall and the rain taps at the window with its long fingernails? No. When fear and cold make a statue of you in your bed, don't expect hard-boned and fleshless truth to come running to your aid. What you need are the plump comforts of a story. The soothing, rocking safety of a lie.

-- Diane Setterfield | The Thirteenth Tale

International Dog Day

Many wonder how come a misanthrope like me could shower so much love for you guys. I reply, because humans don’t deserve it. You guys do.
God didn't give you a long life span as of humans. This earthly life is full of suffering and sorrow and god needs you badly on the other side of that rainbow bridge. And even in that short span of time you touch so many lives and teach them how to love unconditionally. We, humans, with all that impurities in our heart would never be able to love like that. So we bring you home and try to give our life some meaning, some purpose.
My life started with one of you guys. He was my uncle, my grandmother’s fourth son. He used to sit guarding over his infant niece under my grandmother’s supervision. I was fourteen when he left us. He is only a memory now in those black and white pictures clicked by my other uncle; sitting proudly in every group photo as just another member of one big family that broke into pieces long back. After him I have met many o…

Battle of B's

Of all the places on internet where time is a lost concept I spend (or waste?) a shamefully considerable amount of time on Pinterest and Tumblr. My interests vary on a day to day basis and it solely depends on my state of mind on that day. So it could be anything from fashion week street style to the latest Game of Thrones memes to articles on Vajrayana to zodiac signs. I usually steer clear of recipes and DIY projects – not my forte. So the other day while wasting another precious evening off the book of my life I stumbled across this discussion on Tumblr. Beauty vs. brain. Or if there is really a vs. there in between. Of course those nerdy, uber-cool Tumblr girls did not disappoint me. As always they punched the apparent trade-off between physical beauty and intellectual quotient into oblivion with their witty, sarcastic comebacks. It felt good.
During my tenure at a B school of Calcutta I had a colleague who once shared an illustration (not by her) on facebook. Three rows of ident…

The Thirteenth Tale

The main reason behind my inconsistency of reading is my slippery mind. My attention span is so small and erratic that I am always having a hard time about sticking to one task at a time. It is always fleeting from one interest to another, creating a pattern that is undecipherable to me as well. As a result I am always struggling to finish a book in time. And there is the catch. It took me exactly three days (or to be more precise, three long nights) to finish this book. I usually don’t get time to read a book during daytime. Or there is too much chaos in light that thwarts my concentration. So when everyone else sleeps I read.

The Thirteenth Tale is a Gothic novel by Diane Setterfield that was published back in 2006. I first came across it while browsing on Goodreads quite a while ago. Then it remained forgotten in my long list of ‘to read’ waiting to be remembered someday. Eventually that day came. The Thirteenth Tale has two central characters. Two women. One young, one old and dy…

Quote of the Week

A witch ought never to be frightened in the darkest forest... because she should be absolutely certain in the depths of her soul that the most terrifying thing in the forest was her.

-- found on tumblr (by slytherinnheadgirl)


When all else fails Go back Go back where it all started Stay there Lie on the grass Look at the sky You will realize That you were never alone How the constellations Were looking after you All along Then try to read Their open book And you will see How they have maintained The journal of your Each tear And laughter How they have painted The whole sky With your colours And then give in Give in to the trees To the earth To the sky To the stars Shed your clothes
Shed your name Become nothing You will find everything You have been looking for This whole time.

Jhargram Unfinished

Wherever I go, whatever I experience there is one thought that is always in my mind along with other fleeting ones. Will I be able to blog about this? Well yes, I take blogging way too seriously, even though it is not my profession (read I do not earn a single penny from blabbering crap here). During my entire stay in the miserable town of Midnapore I tried very hard to experience everything with utmost optimism so that I could come back and tell stories about it. Human mind has its own way of processing things and memories can more or less always be recalled with a certain degree of detachment and sometimes with humour. So now when I look back at the events I can reminisce in a more amusing tone. But don’t mistake it with my actual state of mind when I was living those incidents.
I had a lot of expectations about our day trip to Jhargram. I was eager to see the beauty of forest in monsoon. I wanted to follow the trail through the woods that wound down to the bank of Dulung River. I …

Quote of the Week

I lied and said I was busy. I was busy; but not in a way most people understand. I was busy taking deeper breaths. I was busy silencing irrational thoughts. I was busy calming a racing herat. I was busy telling myself I am okay. Sometimes, this is my busy, and I will not apologize for it.

-- Brittin Oakman

The Love Room

Lately the general mood on my blog had been too heavy and serious. I had to break it. So here goes the post that I have been meaning to publish for a while but somehow it was getting delayed. I am perhaps the only blogger in the world who could visit a place and then blog about it three months later. In my defence I utter the same cliché. Better late than never.
I first came to know about this place from a friend. The Love Room is Calcutta's first pet friendly cafe. The two owners of the cafe have nine dogs who are the USP of the place. There is a separate place for the pets here where they roam freely and play with the visitors.
The day we visited we got to meet Igor the husky, Tipsy the terrier (?) and I don't remember the name of the little ball of fur who was more interested in taking naps than mingling with the crowd. I tell you, that's my spirit animal. Tipsy seemed more interested in male visitors and his apparent favourite activity was to hump on their legs.
The f…


I have Generalised Anxiety Disorder. I suffer from terrible insecurity and the fear of being persecuted by people around me. The fear has grown so stronger over the years (not to mention how many times it got validated on several occasions) that I no longer trust people. So much that I feel even scared to maintain my own diary. So blogging helps. This is a kind of virtual diary where I can talk freely yet not spill out all the secrets. Life is not easy for people like us. Especially in a country or society where you are not considered as sick unless you have a terminal disease. Even viral fever will bring you empathy and attention. But go and tell people that you have Borderline Personality Disorder so your emotional quotient is like a third degree burn patient and you will see how the stares turn suspicious. They will go home and discuss at night what a scary crazy person you are. But somehow over the years I have started to become more unabashed about who I am. I am on my way to le…