Motion Blur

Coming back to life

2011-07-17T10:50:00.000-07:00

Its been almost a year without posts. Strangely, since I never had that incessant urge that I used to have.

Maybe today, things would be different. Maybe I would have like to dream, to go beyond my routine, to expect. Maybe this is what I will call my intermission bell, for my post quarter-life lacuna of desire.

I am, sometimes, afraid to tread beyond. Rarely, I am dispassionate. Most of the time I just headily swing between lethargy of un-excitement, or the seeming uselessness of it all. But today, it is different. I can feel the ember starting to burn deep within, and the cool, comforting velvety covering of hope, overlapping it. Its a strange, a powerful, yet numb, feeling of happiness. In my eternal pursuit of it.

Today, I feel like falling in love. Once again, but like never before.

Untitled II

2010-08-24T05:41:00.001-07:00

Can we start everything all over again? Can we go back to those days, when I was a loner in the middle bench, and I found you beautiful but couldn't compel my heart to think that way, only because you're too charming, too sought after, & too out of my league(I dint even have a 'league').

Can we go back again to those days? Days I thought we could walk, hand in hand, endlessly through the city-smoke and the fast running cars; the only moments I could brush with your fingertips was when we were crossing the roads? The only thing in my mind, playing endlessly, was how not to say something stupid, but make you laugh?

Can we again freeze that hour? The one we had spent, inches apart on the two li'l steps, talking endlessly about our passions, our whimsical dreams that our minds could conjure from the bits of cultural affinity that the City infected us with.

Can we again stop those minutes? Minutes that we had spent over endless calls to mend our broken hearts from the wrongs done to our innocent lives, or later, the catharsis over our wrong-doings to others.

Can we again live the moment? The moment when I, looking into your eyes, running my fingers through your hair, listening to you hear the truth of my self-obsessed life; the one moment when my mind was shouting inside me, to tell you that I need you, to be who I want to be...and I couldn't utter a word.

Can we turn back time...or let time turn us back...together?

Untitled I

2010-08-24T05:40:00.000-07:00

I know that you should follow your heart. It says what it means, and leaves the rest to you. If you think it over, you may misjudge what it wants to say. You may take peoples' opinions, go for a cost-benefit analysis, ponder over the fact whether its risky, or otherwise willingly try to procrastinate your subconscious decision with your intellect. That's where the problems start.

I have tried to break free from over-exerting my brain with such reasoning, but not following the heart had'nt been a choice. A choice that I had'nt taken alone. 'Coz, I am not alone. I may be the decision maker for my life, but I will not face the consequences alone. Thus I think.

Well, its what I have been doing all the way...

A Christmas Carol

2010-01-07T09:23:00.000-08:00

I did'nt stop cursing them as I banged open the door to my mezzanine floor. Infuriated by the lesser mortals that I have to share my living space with, I cursed my life thinking how I would...and then, I saw it!

A Christmas tree put up on our table. Standing on a corner beside the heap of old, torn magazines and cover-stripped old books, just where the glass top refracted out the tube-light rays through the brown semi/quarter circles of teacup stains. Cheap, brightly colored paper balls, crowding the tapering top, with two red woolen Santas; the tree wasn't any longer than my arm. Bells and stars, with the silver dust slowly falling off them 'coz of the cheap glue, sharing the little space in the arm-long wooden stick, with frills of green marble-paper leaves. A small teddy cutout and a single Mentos lay underneath, the only gifts to be opened. It was one of the best Christmas trees that you would have seen that day.

I feel, still, that there is hope in this world. And a wish for a brighter day, and maybe, a better tomorrow.

2010-01-07T09:00:00.000-08:00

City...of joy?

My City. She's like my ex-girlfriend. Howsoever much she's hurt me, however much we have been there, done that, however she might have shattered me into pieces at times, and did'nt let me go beyond the boundaries of expected realizations; I just cannot move on. I still cannot get over the silly bits of comfort and the familiar imperfections, that make her mine. My joy. My City.

...the same bits of chayer bhar still go into my mouth, with the hot, over-sweetened tea and the warm, corrosive smoke of regular-sized cigarettes; beside the same doorsteps by the Academy canteen; where two souls can only sit together if they are in love, or one has to stand.

Recession blues!

2009-04-24T22:58:00.000-07:00

or No, this is not another post on how "Since the economy is 66% consumer driven, when consumer spending slows, the GDP begins to fall. Consumer spending slows for a multitude of reasons: when the consumer can no longer get reasonable credit rates, when he's fearful of loosing his job, when his debt load is higher than is comfortable, when he already has all the stuff he needs. The economic cycle has periods of expansion and contraction. A recession is a contraction.(Yahoo! Answers)" End of theories, here!

...And finally, it arrives! What all began as the hush-hush talks about how our IIM-ed and ISI-d friends at Lehman Brothers and Bear Stearns, would eke out a living without their 8-figured payslips and merely manage to survive only on cheap Frito (Leh)ys and Corona (Bear)s; and as it escalated to the serious talks of our end to partying on Thursdays(warm-up), Fridays(get-set-go) and Saturdays(the day before) and giving up on the single KF pint(that's the only revenue we bought to SPE/two people) and thinking of various alibis for our lady-loves to spare us on their next Chaitro/Year end/(50+25)% flat sale shopping sprees; and finally, all the brouhaha about the unforeseen, lurking monster from the past(1929) that is slowly going to relieve us from our jobs and meagre salaries for non-performance, that scared the living daylights out of us.

There was no silent way to go for the killing. It made a lot of noise, and spluttered a lot of blood and gore here and there. Although, it did conceal itself, like the Trojan horse, the frightening details in the seemingly lucrative package of an alternative and revised performance based variable compensatory scheme, broken up into individualistic and holistic goal achievement metrics, the message was loud and clear. Loud as the crack of the fidayeen bullet that took Major Unni's life at the Taj, as we all heard from Kolkata, while cursing our times; Clear as the intentions of the next political party that we are about to stake our lives into, this FY elections. Like everything else, that's also how we would have to live with the recession. On your mark, get, set...

Top 10 things that you should remember to get you going:

Limit spending. Spending is contagious, like a yawn or a sneeze, or like tucking into a Zinger even when you had lunch half an hour ago. Often our subconscious(and sometimes our girlfriends!) leads us into glitzy shops in super-malls with expensive things; many of which we have no need for. Believe me, you will survive without that Tommy red undie, or a 5.1 mp camera in your cell.
As good as it sounds, a bottle of Fosters/KF/Carlsberg at any regular bar is around a 100 bucks. Affordable, right? Multiply that with 2(at least) each evening(leaving apart the farewell parties/birthdays/treats and other social events), and 2 evenings(at least) every week, and for every week, for every month. As bad as it sounds, you can do the math.
(I would have said to turn of the AC when you drive to office, but thanks to CESC for your sleepless nights, and to Apollo for 42 degrees in the shade, I wont be that cruel). Car pool is good; chartered bus is better(fixed time, fixed expenses :) )
Power saving lamps, power saving fridges and power saving ACs should be the mantra to shed off that extra electricity bill. I sometime hear of power saving capacitor banks; don't know if they work.
If you are a sucker for downloads/torrents/P2P/iMesh/RS, better skip over to the unlimited version of your broadband, to save yourself from a shocking BB usage bill. Try as you might, you can never limit yourself to the quota, how much you schedule all your d/ls late at night!
Lunch from home is a very good idea. Its not pansy, sissy, or inconvenient to carry a small Thermos-box to work(Dude, it's your Mom or whoever cooks lunch at your place, who's taking all the pains, not you!). Its also healthier than the roadside crap or the Cheeli Chiken/Frayied Rise that you have at your local food street.
Smoking kills your sperms. Unless you want to be celibate or suffer from ED, cut down(I didn't say quit, I know the pains!) on smoking. Alternatively, you can also do the math to get a tentative figure of how much you actually spend on ciggies.
Go for investment in real-estate and other bearish options like LIC, FD, MIS etc. unless you really know what you are doing.
Credit cards.(Should have been way up the list, forgot all about it). The 10% cash-back on dinner and movies is nothing compared to the remaining 90% that is being debited from your account. And, Titanium and Super-Platinum cards are not being given to you alone since you are a loyal customer; every fool walking with an i-card in Sector 5 has one.
Use Blackle.com. 1,204,510.432 Watt hours will be saved.

RainMan

2009-03-30T09:33:00.000-07:00

My red side-bag didn't have an umbrella. To tell you the truth, even my red side-bag shouldn't have been there. It doesn't at all go with my pinstriped trousers and my formal shirt; even no more with the corporate sewage that I carry home, as my extra baggage, everyday. Looks more like a weathered artifact stolen away from its more carefree times.

So I went into the rain. Thinking, semi-consciously, what might be the consequences if I cannot make it to office due to a violent bout of sneezing, and a sore throat. It was a gentle rainy breeze now, with the occasional flashes of lightening, like Someone up there with a 80-200 tele lens, trying to capture the throngs of scampering people, in a single frame. Luckily, got hold of a cab(Omni), moments after I stepped out of the IT park(its also called a park, nomenclaturally equivalent to the one where little happy children gleefully chuckle when they smudge ice-cream on each others' faces). Plugged on the hands-free, and stuffed the ear-phones to shut out the world(Using the hands-free and incessantly listening to the radio while transit, is one rampant disease that WHO will fail to eradicate from the IT brethren). Windows were shut, probably since the girl opposite to me, blissfully crooning loudly whatever was being played on her radio station, feared the wind would mess up her hair, or spoil her mascara, or something.

I whacked the window-seat as a fellow passenger stepped out at Ruby. That's when I finally managed to slide open a window, carefully watching if no one gets irritated by my sacrilegious act. The first spray of the brewing Kaalboisaakhi fogged my Crizals with microscopic droplets of rain, through which the bright headlamps and street lights blurred out; and I looked to see a Wong Kar Wai-ish motion blur of colours, in the otherwise garish, familiar parts of the City.

...

Carefully maneuvering the Alur chop in the murir thonga in one hand, I lighted a GF(regular) and headed for home. The roads were still blurry with my rain-smeared compound vision, and the man-holes, opened up just before the elections, made it no easier to walk. The ciggy cinder was also having a tough time fighting the big droplets with full momentum, as it tried to douse the flame. Yet, it felt good. Like a surprise break from my regular, complacent sinusoidal world of Office-home-sleep-office. As I reached home, I could hear it. The storm brewing, both in and out. It took me a few moments to comprehend which would be more dangerous to bear. A fateful droplet won at last; as it extinguished the last attempts of the flame to burn it all. Spitting it out, I stepped in.

Smell the sun

2009-03-13T10:47:00.000-07:00

Sunshine on my shoulders, made me happy
Sunshine on my eyes, should have made me cry
Sunshine on the rainbow, have looked so lovely
Sunshine, the rarest, faded in time.

Some things, in the world, looks so simple
Others, can be there, just for a while,
When I, looked out, I saw the moonbeams,
To play, in my tears, and disappear, in a while.

Love is, to comfort, to please and to feel,
To bring out the smell from the lilies, to steal
The Joy and Laughter, found in the chatter of muddy kids
In the satisfaction of the lemon-slice, of a day's only meal.

For the urge of Being...

2009-02-04T10:01:00.000-08:00

I think, therefore I am human,
With wild ramblings
And incoherence
Filled with high hopes and serendipity.

When I try to understand you,
When I give all I have
When I ponder over sweet, fleeting tales
Of lullabies which makes me not sleep,
But brings me back to life.

With reason, and logic, and with all the God-forsaken maths of living,
With envy, and sadness and grief rising from the depths,
With love, with empathy, and with belief in the Master,
I try and try, to delve
Only to fall back in the same hypnotic confusions.

Two little shards of broken glass,
With grainy dreams in sepia tones,
With green thoughts, and rusty body,
And little dissolved specks of hardships
Makes me who I am, yet am I?
I am human. Cut me, I'll bleed.

Apples and Oranges

2009-01-18T08:36:00.000-08:00

It's fascinating to meet different people, in the same City, who think differently. It shows sometimes that you aren't a recluse. It shows that people can have independent thoughts, have different prerogatives, and ideologies, living out of the same length and breadth of the City. The same chayer dokan, the same solving of socio-economic problems from around the globe in the chayer dokan, the same people solving it, the same pulse of the laid-back, procrastinating City driving the people, and the same chayer dokan giving back its signature pulse to the City.
Yet, I find people having the same difference. You feel you are'nt alone anymore. People have made decisions, or taken it through compulsions, as you have. You can finally find people who reads a para twice in a novella just to visualize the scene, who thinks that cheap Vodka is a slow killer, yet tastes great with Appy on the rocks, people who act like a Walt Disney animation film on Sundays, 'coz they know its going to be Monday sooner than you know it, who thinks Mithunda isn't just an actor, but a walking, talking, Shaolin Temple who can wipe off the scum of earth by his power packed dialogues, more than his punches, and people who think infidelity is as guilt-free an emotion as wanting to fall back in love,again.
...

Although, I am yet to find someone who feels sniggering isn't always meant to hurt :)

A post...long overdue.

2009-01-12T08:50:00.000-08:00

Birthday. Friends with a heart-shaped chocolate cake. Songs and a lots of laughter. Eating till your belly bulges out first, farting it out later. Smoking up under the shade of broken bricks, under the open sky, as open as it can be in a thriving metropolis. Friends again, this time with a goo-ey chocolate cake(lotsa' chocolate, I know!). Cutting the cake, at the pillar-sill of a renowned eatery. With burning candles, and street urchins joining in for the song(mostly,the cake!). Shaking a leg. Smoking up again, with a Floyd playlist. Dreamy, hazy, unobtrusive and cross-faded, with momentary lapses of reason. Warm chocolaty moments of love, brushed away. Going to sleep; waking up again at the dead of the night to sing the birthday song, again. Going to sleep(or maybe coming off it?), at last.

Maya

2009-01-09T06:59:00.000-08:00

Give. Take. Life is. will be. to die for. have. wants. desire. change. common. happiness(in pursuit of). Monotony(the order of the day). Defeat(only when you compare). brutal arrows of self inflicting pain(ha ha ha :) fooled you!). of pretty desires. dreams in a corner. of blurry red and yellow. lights. distance(how far can you go before you reason with yourself, Where are you going?). of love. of low self-confidence. of becoming. of getting away from it all. of a soft hand ruffling your hair. to die for. will be. Life is. Take. Give.

Frivolity of an Ecstasic Man and a Thinking Woman

2009-01-06T07:24:00.000-08:00

"In sooth I know not why I am so sad..."
...
And there, over the wanton wisps of her hair,
Through the white sinewy threads of string,
She wreaths a poem with her mystic air,
A pensive gaze, a Monalisa smile,
And she waits for her Romeo, forever
...
As the salty breeze makes love to her hair.
...

Juliet...I wait by the sands of time...
The shores beckon me...to dive, and give it all up...
Yet I wait...for your cold gaze, to cut through my foolish desires

To punish, the audacity of my wanton thoughts.

2008-12-31T21:44:00.000-08:00

Attacks on the mind, the country and the soul,
Recession cutting us out of our inevitable goals,
The journey is far, long and hard
And still we find ourselves struggling from the start.

I seem to wither, I seem to cower,
I try to see the burning beacon on top of the tower,
I seem to drench, yet I feel the fire inside
I burst out in flames, in a cold November shower.

The song of of the robin, is heard no more,
Its the Swan that sings of better days of yore,
Bloody hands, yet more on the streets
Little pink papers as New Year's treats.

I ponder along, when all of it would end
And struggle I do,till my wits' end.
...

A flash of serene white; and I hear a voice,
From behind a green apple tree,
Give peace a chance, and leave the rest to Me.

(The words didn't find meaning until they came out, better rhyme and reason could have been achieved; then again, so could everything else in the world...Happy New Year)

The only thing constant is Change - IV

2008-11-01T00:56:00.000-07:00

The best thing about my life, today, is that I don’t have to pretend who I am. It’s real, and fortunately for me, there’s no pretence about how I am living it. Today it doesn’t have that satiny, adulterated veneer to cover up the shady parts which I am not really proud of. Its sad, its happy, its fun, its boring, its melancholic, its ecstatic, it has its momentary numbness of defeat, it also has its enlightenment of realizing that sometimes you have to take your defeat with honour. I had read in my school diary quotes long back – The strongest man is he, who fights alone. And I fight, to keep my life real, free from social brunt, which often leaves its scars from its bloody aftermath of the constant proving yourself above your own laid benchmarks.

When you are real, and you don’t have to pretend that you are somebody else, just because the world needs you to be, you can be much at ease with yourself. You can laugh at our own stupid jokes, be ashamed of your folly, and get annoyed and angry when life doesn’t give you its right deserves, and pamper yourself to a honey-dew smooth B&H when the day goes well. And never feel guilty about doing all that, thinking of how your image can affect because of all these randoming. ‘Coz, in the first place, you have let go of that image, forever.

Life changes, or does it? Just a few weeks back I was happy going to SPE, looking at the throng, an obscenely priced KF pint in one hand, and perhaps, a shared smoke in the other; with my constant partner in our newly-found addiction to the Kolkata night-life; staring at the other, more regular “business-bringing” revellers and their skimpily clad “rock chicks” (for the uninitiated, these are the pretty young things that flank the ultra rich, ultra smooth, ultra suave party men, showing off their ultra-deep necklines) who were trying very hard to bring home the fact that SPE is their second home; its music being the sole food for their souls. And yesterday, at another night joint, a girl, who I had probably given a few cursory glances, came right up to me to the comfy divan where I was sitting with my Vodka n Sprite, and asked me my name ‘coz I looked familiar. Hmm, I was no way familiar to the night-prowlers in Kolkata, and recently my photo never came up in the papers, neither was I some Ashton Kutcher/Brad Pitt look-alike. Without going into the finer, saucier details, all she wanted to do was make a laughing stock out of a sheepish guy with the nerdy glasses, in front of her groupies. Well, I dint give her that chance and she looked royally pissed off. My partner-in-crime and I had a hearty laugh over it later that night… I think I’ll go back to trying to look in cool at SPE with my blue rubber slippers; although I really wouldn’t mind more such encounters with unfamiliar hot women at night-clubs, once in a while. Heck, nothing changes actually; I am sure I would never be able to imbibe the supernatural powers of Suave Serenading from our local bearded god of womanizing, with his trusty back-pack and firang followers, even if he chooses me for being his lucky protégée :)

The only thing constant is Change I, II and III.

Five feet Six

2008-10-29T11:41:00.000-07:00

The other day I chanced upon hearing a very old favourite of mine – Words by Ronan Keating, as a ringtone in a female colleague’s phone. Regardless to say, I had quite grown out of Ronan, Backstreet and their boy-band brotherhood a long time back. It is the age of rap, house, alter, metal, progressive and punk rock and I am neck deep into it. But something lingered on just as she took the call. Its only words, and words that all I have to take your heart away. It suddenly struck a chord somewhere. Really, what about the people only with a few lovelorn words to say, fragmented and out of sync mostly, not at all with the great suaveness and panache as in the latest James Bond flick? What about those who don’t have a guitar slung to their shoulders with a day old stubble, who cannot croon to the starry eyed women at SPE, with a Calrsberg in one hand, and the beau’s fingers in the other? What about them who cannot play a piano, high on weed all night long, while charming a friend sleeping over at his place, with a wanton desire of something a little more exciting than sleep? What about those men, who are just plain ordinary and simple, having no other extra talents to flaunt than the regular, decaf guy next door? What about those guys are plain available, and just hopelessly in love, and just cannot go without not giving the regular call everyday to his sweetheart, with the simple pretence of discussing some out-of-the way topic, just to beat around the bush, before blurting out one simple, silly compliment, or a silent, hushed “It would be great if you were here” or “I missed you yesterday while watching Harry and Sally”? Are they not eligible for love, for care, for momentary lapses of reason, for small trinkets of soft touch, or at least, for a goodnight SMS?

Intangible as love is, I seem to have finally discovered the yardstick (maybe even quite late!). It’s called difference, how unique you can be from the plain, unremarkable, unattractive, untalented version of Boy 101. Its all about your guitar pick, your joints and how you crush the weed, how many more pegs you can soak up and yet be deft enough to satisfy the moments of lust that she needs from you, its about the goatee, the piece of metal sticking out of your right eyebrow, the smooth jives at the dance floor and the suave nonchalance of midnight serenades, the moments of envy rising out of the time partitioned for other women and on a rarer scenario, the self-help-book-mugged philosophical rantings. And of course, the perennial six pack abs and day-old stubble would give you the necessary brownie points if you miss out on some of the points above. That’s how you take your love to greater heights; maybe even a six feet two.

…

That’s where I start. At five feet six.

Best Out-of-Office automatic email replies

2008-08-30T23:06:00.001-07:00

Just had to post this:

1.I am currently out of the office at a job interview and will reply to you if I fail to get the position. Please be prepared for my mood.

2. You are receiving this automatic notification because I am out of the office. If I was in, chances are you wouldn’t have received anything at all.

3. Sorry to have missed you, but I’m at the doctor’s having my brain and heart removed so I can be promoted to our management team.

4. I will be unable to delete all the emails you send me until I return from vacation. Please be patient, and your mail will be deleted in the order it was received.

5. Thank you for your email. Your credit card has been charged $5.99 for the first 10 words and $1.99 for each additional word in your message.

6. The email server is unable to verify your server connection. Your message has not been delivered. Please restart your computer and try sending again.

7. Thank you for your message, which has been added to a queuing system. You are currently in 352nd place, and can expect to receive a reply in approximately 19 weeks.

8. Hi, I’m thinking about what you’ve just sent me. Please wait by your PC for my response.

9. I’ve run away to join a different circus.

Finally this one takes the cake: :)

10. I will be out of the office for the next two weeks for medical reasons. When I return, please refer to me as ‘Lucille’ instead of Dave.

Words of The Prophet

2008-08-24T01:10:00.000-07:00

The girl next window

2008-08-20T09:15:00.000-07:00

There is a Khirki chaat shop beside my house. Khirki, loosely translated it means window in English. And today is a 24 hour CITU bandh. Loosely translated, that means no office, and nothing to do the entire day, apart from sleeping and staring blankly at the idiot box. Not complaining, just plain bored.

Lots of people out today. Chevys, Mercs, Karizmas, Toyotas and maybe a glimpse of a few BMWs; females in strikingly "bold and beautiful"(not too sure about the beautiful part tho', but couldn't resist the pun!) clothes, men with a fat hip-pockets looking like they have a tumor growing out of their butts; ice-cream wallas, balloon-wallas, chana-wallas looking earnestly at the all-wallas to shell out a couple of hundred bucks for their stuff. Kids crying their hearts out for the oh-so-indispensable bhel without which their adolescent lives may remain incomplete; wannabe biker dudes, with their silencer-removed bikes zooming towards the gang of PYTs not there only for the mirch in their chaats; aunties shouting at there nephews/nieces for not going too near the fearless stuntmen,while secretly trying to avoid gazing at the charmingly bald uncle from next door. The crossroads eternally jammed with the madding crowd, and the this/that-wallas flitting from car to car, trying to put extra butter where required. Looks like Kumbhamela scaled down for the metro. The funniest part: I saw a horse-drawn fittan only seen in front of Victoria at the early dusks; maybe it's also a joyride out here.
...

Yet the door doesn't open. A door long kept locked eternally, after some rowdy, para goons, maybe after a joyous, spontaneously rippling day like this, wanted to culminate their intensely spirited evening, by looting away the last shade of fading pride, from the washer-woman staying beside the Khirki shop, in a state of drunken stupor after a gala evening. No colours, no noise, no wallas there.

The door remains bandh.Forever.

Here without you

2008-08-13T08:49:00.000-07:00

I guess I'll just wait. Wait n watch. And stop cribbing about the past, as for that matter, even the present and the future.
I hope you'll just be there for me. Seeing me through.

The only thing constant is Change - II

2008-08-03T08:56:00.000-07:00

Its a different feeling, letting go of all your inhibitions. Its silly; you feel so out of place and foolish once you've done it, you feel like kicking yourself in the a*se, you feel like you have been exposed, robbed of all your private emotions and scattered them all around for everyone to see, feel, touch and comment on. You feel like a kid who has wet his bed, and couldn't hide it from his parents in the morning. Yet again, you have to do it sometimes. Because you want to feel robbed. Because you had to feel exposed. Its like a primeval sadomasochistic instinct to feel raped and looted of all your deepest desires, lurking in the forbidden corners of your mind.
Its even tougher when you know that you're mature enough not to do it, and you cannot justify that action by simply blaming it as a childish whim and naivety. You injure your confidence, your ego, your self-belief, your logic and your I-am-fine-Thank-you life. Maybe all things really cannot be put into that equation of life, where the R.H.S is a definite integral of fame, fortune and money over time. I feel lost and confused.
I guess I can see a light at the end of this tunnel. I can see the see the shadowy walls with green lichens pass by me in motion blur. I hope I can reach that light, eventually. Till then, it seems I will just have to read into the twisting shapes of the lichens.
They will tell the story of my life, one day.

The Reason

2008-07-25T09:39:00.001-07:00

Is there really a reason? Do I really need one? What if the real reason is that its unreasonable enough to go about in the dark, trying to grope into the cluttered walls with old paintings and sepia-toned frames,with the spiders just waiting for its prey to land; and amidst the clutter, your torch suddenly flashes past by the tin soldier that you lost when you were a kid, and frantically searched for it till the last teardrop left its trail of saltdust over your cheeks? The reason is not what I care for, its the uncanny state of not finding one which enchants me.

A cake with butter-paper sticking to its side.Thats reason enough for me.

Purno das Baul

2008-06-07T06:11:00.000-07:00

The only thing constant is Change-I

2008-05-31T12:07:00.000-07:00

Maybe I just liked the way it was. School, mad rush to the tutions, screaming for food before I could actually pull out my socks, the stealthy looks searching out for some known faces while buying the much needed fag during the after-tutions at GDs' or Amartyas'; Even for that matter, college...
...waking up,classes,or bunking most of them,evening escapades to the riverside or Huts or Sashmoler dokan for the regular cha,ciggys,bhaja maggi,dim toast,Projapoti,and other delectables never to be heard of in a Barrista or CCD,drunken stupor on Bangla(70%) or Old Monk,crushing dope while porn being played on mute on one side of the room,and wannabe guitarists strumming Mala or Hotel California on the other,dozing off in beds which could be easily be adorned in a penitentiary,waking up...routine life.

All at once it came shattering down.Unfinished

Best Original Song for "Falling Slowly" from the film "Once" - the 80th Annual Academy Awards

2008-05-24T22:17:00.000-07:00

Lyrics | Falling Slowly lyrics