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v  Not blogging makes me fidgety with guilt. Yet scary words like stress, grief, depression have such crippling effect they leave one gasping for air let alone sit and play with words.

v  I hate rural Bengal. Or as a matter of fact, rural India. The paddy field, the log huts, the posters of B grade movie, hair cutting saloon with bollywood hero’s face on the signboard, the absence of taxis and blue-yellow public buses, the curious gaze of people. You name it and I despise it.

v  I don’t feel the same surge of excitement standing on Howrah platform as much as I feel at the departure gate of Netaji Subhas Airport. I might be a snob.

v  A new movie song is showing the smalltown hero is stalking his crush and clicking her pictures without her knowledge.  No wonder our Indian men find it so hard to take no for an answer. And then somehow ‘I have a boyfriend’ line becomes an internet troll for girls who use it as last resort to get rid of over-enthusiastic Romeos.

v  Some people’s instagram accounts make you think that their only job is to wear pretty clothes and travel to Europe or Dharamshala. And may god bless their friends/spouses for being at their service 24x7.

v  Going to work has become a tedious affair for me. Especially when half my day is spent contemplating violent instances of death that should befall my boss. Remember the movie Horrible Bosses? My condition is almost similar to those three chaps now. But apparently, horrendous, disgusting piece of shit people don’t die so easily.

v  Long distance relationship is hard. And I mean H.A.R.D. The gut wrenching feeling makes you cry under the shower, cranky for no reason and leaves you hollow in the chest. The hollowness is so overwhelming that it haunts you even in your sleep. At least for now I don’t know how to make the nightmares stop.

v  And in the end, writing is the best possible catharsis I have, no matter how shit it is.

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