Bullshit

For quite sometime I thought of writing in here....just anything. But couldnt manage time... Couldnt manage time? or was it that I was so confused wid my own self that I refused to publicize that? Dont quite know....
Life has been smooth....has gone over the hedge at times....and at times has taken the long drive...but now it seems to have come to a standstill. Am doing something I dont like doing...just for the sake of not staying in the phase of "not-doing-anything" anymore that I had been in for almost 6 months.... 'sucks' is the word I would like to use to describe that phase of my life but then, am not even in the mood to use the word.

Its the same old monotony returned in a new place. Faces of people u get accustomed with for being a regular student of the institution....see them and smile....like i often use the cliche: extend ur lips. Some of them know my name...others dont bother. I never bothered....nor do so now. Most of the time am sleeping...either wid my eyes closed...else open. And when they are open my pen scribbles some bullshit on the paper.... ok that reminds me...bullshit is another favorite word of mine.
The only thing I like about that place is the campus itself. Especially so when I look at the greenery from the 3rd floor.... the winds blow through the branches....makes a swishing sound..... gently shaking off the dead leaves from them.... good....looks beautiful....

But that's it. Nothing else.

Aamar Rabindranath....

An english medium girl finds pleasure in claiming her ignorance of her mother tongue....but point out for once that she has made a wrong statement in ENGLISH-- she goes mad and starts shouting back at you. I was not an exception. As a student my Bengali was very poor, managing somehow to secure a pass marks (it was a sin to fail as my mother was a teacher, and she would under no circumstances tolerate such nonsense!) Bengali was always that one period which started from class one with a book called "Anando paath- paathmala." Although I resented the very thought that someone could be happy reading such a pathetic language with so many AAKAAR, I-KAAR, II-KAAR....etc.....etc. Never did a line start and end with pencil markings. inevitably a red mark made its way in all my lines. English was atleast better in that way, cause those colours were seen rarely, I SELDOM WROTE. I was quite confused with language.

As I grew up, I learnt there was a man who had different titles in different languages (I seldom use language now, I say lingo). And, he supposedly was a great man, a "writer" as I was told then. I asked my teacher why Rabindranath was called TAGORE in English and THAKUR in Bengali? She looked at me as if I was the rotten piece of flesh available on earth, frowning at my stupidity as to not be able to make such an easy interpretation. The answer came: "DONT ASK SILLY QUESTIONS!!" My confusion went unbound as to how a man who had different titles could be assigned a "great man" whereas I who had voiced my opinion about that issue became "silly", to top that, I had just one single surname in all languages!!

Later, my dad (the most patient man I've ever come across) told me that during Rabindranath's days, India was ruled by English Rulers who could not pronounce THAKUR, and so, they said TAGORE instead...in fact my dad even made weird facial expressions to make me understand that. My recently acquired knowledge found its use when I said DURGA TAGORE that ashtami while offering my prayers to goddess durga...

Years later I realised that day I made no mistake. Rabindranath was God no doubt. Still now I seldom read poems I like to hear my dad recite them...somehow Rabindranath has a wonderful emotion which I realise only through my dad's voice. 'Debotaar graash' left me so touched that I could not complete listening to it...I left midway...my eyes brimming with tears.

Much later, I fell in love with a man who asked me to read a few lines myself....."Ei kshan tuku hok sei chirokaal....aasha jawa dudikei khola robey dwaar..." Rabindranath again bound me to this man in a much different way. The man, whose surname was the biggest controversy in my infant world, made me realise two different relations with two different men. Both loved dearly, both loved uniquely....aamar rabindranath aamar babar porey dewa kobita chhere kakhon aamar hridoye probesh korlo...jantei parlaam na...

Love again was never as good as I thought it would be. The best part of love was when you were falling in it...knowing there was no break to stop you....no accelerator to speed you up....you just fall...freely...unbound....quite like falling from a multistoried building in the U.S. but unlike it, you did not know your destination when you fell in love. The very feeling of meeting the man you love...the man who has no idea as to how much you love him....what you could do for him....that inexplicable feeling was the best part of love. Once you are already in love...its more like you have landed in a soup.... We split. Two years from when it started.

"Nibiro bedonaate pulok laage gaaye....kandaale tumi more.
Paraane baaje baanshi nayone bohey dhaara, dukhero madhuri te korilo dishahaara...
sakoli nibe kere...dibe na tobu chhere...
mon shorey na jete, felile eki daaye?
Kandaale tumi more....."

I had no idea that, that silly man as I had thought years ago.....managed to become a part of my existence..... aamar Rabindranath....sudhu amari. Bakider Rabindranath...tader...kintu ami jevaabe bujhechhi...sevabe keu konodino parbena.....amaar babar golay pora kobita....amar sekha kichhu gaan....srikanto, indrani eder golaay sona casette.....r ta chhara.....amar hridoye lokano Rabindranath....

Profile today

As I looked out of the tiny window of the multistoried building,
I saw-----

Vast stretches --- of concrete jungle
Of red rubble --- of brick, of unseen dreams....
And, my future.
A city --- of joy, of frustration, of success, of failure.
And there I was sitting comfortably as the manager---
Feeding on my dignity, fame, and money.
Not pausing to think--- how many live, how many survive
And how many exist in this city.
These words meant nothing after my schooldays
Now, everything I did, I did, as the world wanted me to do
There was a time when I did things I wanted to do.
When I said words, which made them, smile
Words that were said without a voice----
That which would draw a smile inevitably.
A smile it was and not the mere extension of the lips
As it was, now.
Then on meeting a friend I would've extended my arms,
Or probably given a warm welcome, or, embraced
Would've sat under a Banyan tree and erase the hands of time
Drink from the same glass and talk incessantly!
But now, the very thought gave me shivers

I was a lofty official---
Living on my ego, and a seven-figured salary.
I looked at the world through powerless glasses
I moved in an AC car with windows rolled up
For, I knew, the world had nothing to offer me
Because I never saw the rainbow. Not anymore...
It was only the glaring sun, when I looked up.

Memories.....of another day?

[ I looked out of my windows to stare at the rains...]

There were the huge black clouds in the sky,

Had the monsoons arrived already?

Aren't they too early this time?

A drop here...and another there....

One on the just opened rose in my garden...

I walked out...as though it would help me take in the smell of the wet soil....

The moist air...and the fragrance of the wet earth....

Aaaaah......So familiar....yet,so ruthless!

The drops, bigger now...fell in pours....and soon I was drenched

Drenched with the memories of another day...

A day which had been so perfect in my life....

With the winds caressing the few strands of unmanageable hair away from my face....

And whispers of I-love-you....in my ears....drenched with the rains...

I looked back to see if you said anything...but you were quiet...

Staring outside...seeing the huge drops splattered on the black pitch of the streets

Did you not say anything to me, I ask myself...

An urge to hold your hand and ask, well refrained...

An urge to let you whisper in my ears....

A prayer let out silently to the clouds above-don't stop the rains tonight...

A despair....of feeling the goodness seep inside me

What a day god! What a beautiful day......

To fall in a vast ocean of endless water of unfathomable waves

....to drift away....

A feeling so dangerous, yet so desired

To know death is imminent and yet do nothing about it....

Did I remember the story of the red rose?

Of the nightingale that sung....till the thorn pieced it's tiny heart?

Wouldn't I love to feel a similar pain?

Of wrenching my heart again and draining it out

To love....and drown in your love?

Till I could feel nothing else but love?

....A thunderclap....and I saw a huge mahogany turn ashes infront of my eyes.....
Has anyone ever seen the love of gods? Would it look somewhat like what I just saw?