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Showing posts from May, 2017

Feline Fatality

I once read a quote somewhere; I forgot whose it was. “Only a few people care. Rest are just curious.” I probably had come across this on pinterest, now I don’t recall exactly. But those words etched into my mind and heart. And yes, fed to my already developing misanthropic attitude towards human race. I don’t have many friends. I am very stingy when it comes to love. You have to be extraordinary in order to win my respect and then yes, love. Although I have a very different definition of extraordinary. Given the standard of today’s world, traits like sincerity, honesty, kindness and above all, a spine strong enough to call a spade a spade are extraordinary to me, owing to their sheer rarity. Not a fat bank balance with a chiseled body or an ability to sing or play guitar. Sorry, I don’t have time for fake niceties. I either like you very much or would like to high five your face with a chair.
During and before my recent Manali trip from at least (stress on the at least part) five pe…

Quote of the Week

"You never talk about your regrets. Don't you have any?"

"I guess, but I don't like to call them regrets. I refer to them as wondering."

"Wondering?"

"Because I always wonder what would have happened if things had played out differently. But to name my past decisions 'mistakes' or 'regrets' is foolish. If I chose something, it was the right choice at the time. We never purposefully make mistakes; we only call them in hindsight."

-- Amanda Torroni

Disequilibrium

It’s official. The Calcutta heat has got the better of me. And add to it the recurring hangover of my recent trip coupled with the gut-wrenching, sleep inducing, exhausting pain of impending separation (temporary, but still) from someone. Voila, every day I am dragging my body off the bed and heading for work while mentally cursing my pitiable condition and coming home with a terrible headache. My urge to sit and write a few hundred words for my infernal blog has gone on an indefinite summer vacation too. I have a habit of playing ‘what was I doing last year this time’ game when I am feeling either overjoyed or utterly pissed off about life. So I am sitting here trying to recall whether the month of May was this insufferable last year. Weather-wise of course. People who have to put up with me every second of their lives are feeling absolutely grossed out by my very presence. I am a cranky little bitch when my inner equilibrium is misplaced. However, I am utterly fortunate that none o…

Quote of the Week

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple With a red hat which doesn’t go, and doesn’t suit me. And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves And satin sandals, and say we’ve no money for butter. I shall sit down on the pavement when I’m tired And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells And run my stick along the public railings And make up for the sobriety of my youth. I shall go out in my slippers in the rain And pick the flowers in other people’s gardens And learn to spit
-- Jenny Joseph

Leave of Absence

The past two weeks have passed in a state of trance. Many things happened. Many things to write about. Many things I wouldn’t write about. Many things I have missed to write about. Watched two movies – Guardian of the Galaxy 2 and Bahubali 2. Finished reading three books (hopefully I would write a post). I visited the first pet cafĂ© of Kolkata (I would definitely write a post about that). Then my one week trip to Manali happened. Six days. Countless memories. And now I am sitting here with a lump in my throat dreading the reality (read Monday and office). Not to mention despising the miserable Kolkata summer.
I was reading someone’s blog and she wrote that she had forgotten to write a mother’s day post this year. Same here. Then another realisation hit me. I suddenly remembered my last year’s mother’s day post and some incidents relating to it. Oh god, how the tables turn sometimes. How life surprises you out of nowhere. How it makes you feel that this is it, this is the end of the t…

Quote of the Week

If you have yet to be called an incorrigible, defiant woman, don't worry, there is still time.

-- Clarissa Pinkola Estes

Currently Doing

Obsessing over:

Ikat. all kinds of ikat apparels. Dress. Trousers. Scarf. Top. You name it. And I have it. Or I am in the process of acquiring it. These days I am either busy googling or hashtag hunting on instagram searching for ikat apparels. I am also stalking and screenshoting whosoever I see wearing them. Whenever I get comments like “Wow your outfit is so good!” or “Where did you get such amazing accessories from?” I try to maintain a nonchalant face and give them non-committal answer and all the while I am internally screaming "Bitch I stay up till 3 o’ clock in the morning hunting for clothes. I am a lunatic.”
Indulging in:

Some good, old organic skincare. The face wash smells so good that sometimes I smell it like smelling salt. I just repeated one word three times in one sentence. Yes, it smells that good. The facial elixir is also good. Personally whenever I hear the word elixir written on a beauty product, I think “oh yes, finally! No one can stop me from being the mos…

Ray

After all these years I cannot quite recall at what age I first became acquainted with his creations. It must be very early childhood. My uncle used to bring home his books from his office library. My first experience with Feluda happened like that. My first crush. Ever. Even after so many years that tall, dark, deviously intelligent man with Charminar hanging from his lips can turn me on like no other man in the world. And yet, the pure innocence of those feelings has still remained the same. Life’s harshness could not be able to touch that treasure box hidden safely away in one corner of a very Bengali little girl’s heart.
My father had promised me the newly published Golpo 101 if I performed well in the upcoming board examination. At that age, I could not think of a more precious gift or a stronger motivation. My father’s proud message for his little girl in his immaculate handwriting is still shining in all its glory on the front page of that book.
And those old Anandmela from my…