There is something wonderful about writing pages about your misery. And then deleting all of it just before you wanted to click on the publish button.
Misery is not to be shared. There is enough in the world without my added tuppence, no?
Its strange how I haven’t taken my life for granted yet…
18 Bangladeshi students paid us a visit on Wednesday.
It was supposed to be an idea exchange program about cyclone shelters. There were presentations and design displays. Apprehension, pride and mostly relief. And M.R and Arpan Da actually believed that 40 twenty something students were discussing ramp heights in that huddle. Lol.
We were expecting them to be very alien and vindictive and snobbish… Goodness knows why!! They proved us wrong and made us happy.
They were one of us. In design preferences, proff mimicry, clothes, gadgets and Facebook fetish. Exactly like us. The guys shy and the girls desperate to buy saris for their mums and call their boyfriends when they got back to their hotel rooms. And there language sounded so familiarly sweet.
They were a happy, bubbly lot. All praises for our city, studio, phuchka, Gariahat, traffic control. We gloated like we had created all of those ourselves.
The warmth was incredible. And no matter how cliché it may sound, it did feel like we were meeting old friends.
It is strange how I was meant to be one of them. How I was supposed to know Comilla, Shylet, Dhaka, Rajshahi, Jessore better than just in political maps. But am not and I don’t.
I’ve been thinking. And I’m still not sure how I feel about it.
Thankful? Regretful?
Plain nostalgic, I think, about my country that I never got to know.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
For Ami, Tui, Dadabhai, Titlididi…Plus..
At this very moment…
Dadu is taking dida’s dinner things to the kitchen sink. With one ear tuned to the radio for the nine o clock news.
Dida has had her Nitrosan tablet. Half.And wants somebody to let the mosquito nets down.
I think before they go to sleep…they will think of back home…bangladesh…school...siblings…partition…struggle…mum…mashi….the 4 of us…tomorrow…and each other…
Right now…
Mashi is working in the dining table. Very lonely. Lost in a crowd of birds.
Mesho is driving home.
Tiltli didi.I’m not good with time zones. But I know whatever be the time. You are proving everybody wrong. Who would have thought delicate you had such a fiery leo inside?! Am so proud of you!!
Dadabhai. That’s way too much to ask for, I know, with even mashi not knowing your whereabouts most of the time.
And right now…
Dad is in the emergency room. Doing what he does best.
Mum is thinking about dad. Justifying him inside her head. Tearing up. Holding back. Being hopeful, uncomplaining, dutiful...
Wonder woman.
Dada has a Harrison in front of him. Miu sleeping on it.Which is why he can’t turn the pages. That he has a sketch pad hidden under his pillow is a different issue though!
Now…
Sulagna, sudeshna and sreya are waiting for calls, ims, texts..in that order..
He must still be in campus… talking non-stop… texting me… and smoking away to glory…
I want to hug you all right now. Very tightly. And all together. And not tell you how grateful I am to all of you.
How you make every day sunny...every yesterday special...every tomorrow worth anticipating.
I don’t care how average you think I am…
I will always be overtly self-satisfied…will feel smugly special…will always find myself extraordinary….
You see..
I am loved.
And we don’t care if it is time that is passing by…or if it is you and i…
Oui we. So don't!
And the rest can be Luciferdom.
Dadu is taking dida’s dinner things to the kitchen sink. With one ear tuned to the radio for the nine o clock news.
Dida has had her Nitrosan tablet. Half.And wants somebody to let the mosquito nets down.
I think before they go to sleep…they will think of back home…bangladesh…school...siblings…partition…struggle…mum…mashi….the 4 of us…tomorrow…and each other…
Right now…
Mashi is working in the dining table. Very lonely. Lost in a crowd of birds.
Mesho is driving home.
Tiltli didi.I’m not good with time zones. But I know whatever be the time. You are proving everybody wrong. Who would have thought delicate you had such a fiery leo inside?! Am so proud of you!!
Dadabhai. That’s way too much to ask for, I know, with even mashi not knowing your whereabouts most of the time.
And right now…
Dad is in the emergency room. Doing what he does best.
Mum is thinking about dad. Justifying him inside her head. Tearing up. Holding back. Being hopeful, uncomplaining, dutiful...
Wonder woman.
Dada has a Harrison in front of him. Miu sleeping on it.Which is why he can’t turn the pages. That he has a sketch pad hidden under his pillow is a different issue though!
Now…
Sulagna, sudeshna and sreya are waiting for calls, ims, texts..in that order..
He must still be in campus… talking non-stop… texting me… and smoking away to glory…
I want to hug you all right now. Very tightly. And all together. And not tell you how grateful I am to all of you.
How you make every day sunny...every yesterday special...every tomorrow worth anticipating.
I don’t care how average you think I am…
I will always be overtly self-satisfied…will feel smugly special…will always find myself extraordinary….
You see..
I am loved.
And we don’t care if it is time that is passing by…or if it is you and i…
Oui we. So don't!
And the rest can be Luciferdom.
Perhaps
You don’t fall in love…you choose it…
It is less providence..more intelligence…
Of knowing what is good for you…
Or maybe…barely eliminating all that is bad…selfishly mutual.
An infatuation that you are too afraid to let go of…
Like a lama in red walking across scorching Nubra sands
To quaint, hidden monasteries that still cling to the idea of peace.
A movie that I made would surely end up a slideshow…
Bleary eyes. Coffee mugs. Propped pillows and cropped images.
Self-pity. Nostalgia.
A solitary puppy sitting like a samosa on a cold night at Kalka platform.
Rustling of starch and the smell of marker pens.
Blank sheaves of paper. And minds scribbled upon…
And it’s ending today would leave no scope for regrets.
It is less providence..more intelligence…
Of knowing what is good for you…
Or maybe…barely eliminating all that is bad…selfishly mutual.
An infatuation that you are too afraid to let go of…
Like a lama in red walking across scorching Nubra sands
To quaint, hidden monasteries that still cling to the idea of peace.
A movie that I made would surely end up a slideshow…
Bleary eyes. Coffee mugs. Propped pillows and cropped images.
Self-pity. Nostalgia.
A solitary puppy sitting like a samosa on a cold night at Kalka platform.
Rustling of starch and the smell of marker pens.
Blank sheaves of paper. And minds scribbled upon…
And it’s ending today would leave no scope for regrets.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
-
I love the nights in this city…the narrow overcrowded pavements…humdrum…umbrellas jostling each other…and the possibility that one of those rods will poke you in the eye any moment now...:|
I loved last night.
The wet streets reflecting the yellow lights…the cool air...the speeding cab..
The solitude…and the togetherness…
It is all gone now…the way you held me and told me you’d be there forever….it all is a distant memory…
Like one of those dreams that make you wake up smiling and you don’t know why…
I hate sunday afternoons…gloomy and lethargic... with the promise of a monday...
Or maybe because they are family times everywhere…and I dread them…
The family has been reduced to three now…all subconsciously blaming each other for the loss/gain…
Families scare me…with their scope of breaking up…
People scare me….with their chances of changing…
Relationships scare me most…because they inevitably hurt…
I should stop caring about loads of things…because nobody else cares about them either..
And this will help hurt less when… later, but surely…my world falls apart…
Stop caring about being judgemental…apprehensive…pessimistic…misunderstood...
How can one even expect understanding?? I mean, why somebody out there would even bother to understand stumps me…!!
People have separate lives…separate ambitions…
And they are forced to make separate choices…
Their not being me doesn’t make them any less wonderful..
I am scared of these thoughts as well… and i’m tired of wanting you to ward them off…and tired of wanting to stay wrapped up in your arms forever...i’m tired of being dependant on you for every little thing……
I’m scared that one day…you will be too…
I always thought Bollywood made this huge deal about how magnificently screwed children of broken families can be… i’m getting there… LOL..
I am forever weak…and unreasonable…and insecure...and needy…
Thanks for bearing with me.
I loved last night.
The wet streets reflecting the yellow lights…the cool air...the speeding cab..
The solitude…and the togetherness…
It is all gone now…the way you held me and told me you’d be there forever….it all is a distant memory…
Like one of those dreams that make you wake up smiling and you don’t know why…
I hate sunday afternoons…gloomy and lethargic... with the promise of a monday...
Or maybe because they are family times everywhere…and I dread them…
The family has been reduced to three now…all subconsciously blaming each other for the loss/gain…
Families scare me…with their scope of breaking up…
People scare me….with their chances of changing…
Relationships scare me most…because they inevitably hurt…
I should stop caring about loads of things…because nobody else cares about them either..
And this will help hurt less when… later, but surely…my world falls apart…
Stop caring about being judgemental…apprehensive…pessimistic…misunderstood...
How can one even expect understanding?? I mean, why somebody out there would even bother to understand stumps me…!!
People have separate lives…separate ambitions…
And they are forced to make separate choices…
Their not being me doesn’t make them any less wonderful..
I am scared of these thoughts as well… and i’m tired of wanting you to ward them off…and tired of wanting to stay wrapped up in your arms forever...i’m tired of being dependant on you for every little thing……
I’m scared that one day…you will be too…
I always thought Bollywood made this huge deal about how magnificently screwed children of broken families can be… i’m getting there… LOL..
I am forever weak…and unreasonable…and insecure...and needy…
Thanks for bearing with me.
Friday, July 2, 2010
jlt#3
I love the feeling of standing in other people’s shoes. Literally.
I love the clatter of the scrabble letters...especially when somebody brings the game to an unmade bed.
I love sniffing unlit gold flake cigarettes. Even from outside the box.
I love musty smelling armwars...and knowing which leg of it is broken.
I love playing with the tassel of cut glass perfume cases.
I love familiarity.
I love mashi’s overcrowded kitchen top.
I love it when mum mumbles a bit in her sleep...and falls deeply asleep again once
I've covered her with a blanket. I can leave ps and gtalk combined to do that….smiley sigh...
I love the fact that I can stomp to dada’s room whenever I’m feeling frustrated and just sit and sulk and be grumpy in companionable silence. Nowadays with the cat watching…condescendingly.
N I miss dad. And the elaborate chow that the two of us used to cook every Sunday morning.
I’m sorry I never wanted to be your partner when we played 29. But you did suck at it!!
I love you and I miss you.
And the worst part is that I know you love me. And that you miss me. Possibly more than I do.
I love the clatter of the scrabble letters...especially when somebody brings the game to an unmade bed.
I love sniffing unlit gold flake cigarettes. Even from outside the box.
I love musty smelling armwars...and knowing which leg of it is broken.
I love playing with the tassel of cut glass perfume cases.
I love familiarity.
I love mashi’s overcrowded kitchen top.
I love it when mum mumbles a bit in her sleep...and falls deeply asleep again once
I've covered her with a blanket. I can leave ps and gtalk combined to do that….smiley sigh...
I love the fact that I can stomp to dada’s room whenever I’m feeling frustrated and just sit and sulk and be grumpy in companionable silence. Nowadays with the cat watching…condescendingly.
N I miss dad. And the elaborate chow that the two of us used to cook every Sunday morning.
I’m sorry I never wanted to be your partner when we played 29. But you did suck at it!!
I love you and I miss you.
And the worst part is that I know you love me. And that you miss me. Possibly more than I do.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Back Home Blues
Feels good to be back…!!
The swaying of the train hasn’t left me yet…and my eyelids can not resist the gravity anymore…i have a zillion tabs open in chrome…and ps cs3 (havto get 4)…and word...and nero all at once…
Time must have flown for my poor old pc with a 1 GB RAM…just a few more days, love...only till i get my shiny pink dell…AGAIN…shiny PINK dell…heehaw!
The kaajer mashis aren’t here yet…
The world around is stretching and yawning…synchronized with the green, humid weather!!...waiting for mum and her characteristic T-rex shriek that’d jerk them back to bright white wakedom…
Welcome home me… :)
With some godawful paneer and chicken…
Behind food that sucks even after u have survived the Maharashtrian, oniony, super spiced, thick, mucky, yucky, gravy thing that they serve with everything for 8 days..there is a cook who needs to be fired...
Dada peers into my purple sun burnt face…
‘Have you lost weight?’…*soaring heart*… ‘Naah’ and he walks away..
Crumbled. Grumbled.
Piles of laundry everywhere…the place looks like Howrah station at rush hour…the rooms could have inspired the Rat-a-tat-tat illustrations…
Dogs…fishing rods…turnips…red and white striped socks ….stray toads…watering cans..a blue letter box with a boot tacked on it…spades..fire crackers and porridge cauldrons...
I’m pretty sure that they are all in there….somewhere..
4 days to go before college starts… too much to do…too little time…
Mera Bharat Bandh Mahan btw!!
.
.
.
.
The peacocks must have started their evening-calling ritual by now in the marsh… the red-black earth must be radiating a soft sunset warmth…
I know exactly what the forest smells like right now…
And how the swing in the porch is moving imperceptibly with story book creaks…
And how waaaayy up into the mountains the caves are growing darker..till the paintings vanish into the rocks…and go to sleep with the melancholia of three thousand long years…
And the flutter of the saffron robes...and chants echo through the cliffs…
.
.
.
.
And it still feels good to be back.
The swaying of the train hasn’t left me yet…and my eyelids can not resist the gravity anymore…i have a zillion tabs open in chrome…and ps cs3 (havto get 4)…and word...and nero all at once…
Time must have flown for my poor old pc with a 1 GB RAM…just a few more days, love...only till i get my shiny pink dell…AGAIN…shiny PINK dell…heehaw!
The kaajer mashis aren’t here yet…
The world around is stretching and yawning…synchronized with the green, humid weather!!...waiting for mum and her characteristic T-rex shriek that’d jerk them back to bright white wakedom…
Welcome home me… :)
With some godawful paneer and chicken…
Behind food that sucks even after u have survived the Maharashtrian, oniony, super spiced, thick, mucky, yucky, gravy thing that they serve with everything for 8 days..there is a cook who needs to be fired...
Dada peers into my purple sun burnt face…
‘Have you lost weight?’…*soaring heart*… ‘Naah’ and he walks away..
Crumbled. Grumbled.
Piles of laundry everywhere…the place looks like Howrah station at rush hour…the rooms could have inspired the Rat-a-tat-tat illustrations…
Dogs…fishing rods…turnips…red and white striped socks ….stray toads…watering cans..a blue letter box with a boot tacked on it…spades..fire crackers and porridge cauldrons...
I’m pretty sure that they are all in there….somewhere..
4 days to go before college starts… too much to do…too little time…
Mera Bharat Bandh Mahan btw!!
.
.
.
.
The peacocks must have started their evening-calling ritual by now in the marsh… the red-black earth must be radiating a soft sunset warmth…
I know exactly what the forest smells like right now…
And how the swing in the porch is moving imperceptibly with story book creaks…
And how waaaayy up into the mountains the caves are growing darker..till the paintings vanish into the rocks…and go to sleep with the melancholia of three thousand long years…
And the flutter of the saffron robes...and chants echo through the cliffs…
.
.
.
.
And it still feels good to be back.
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