The wait finally ends.
The obscurity fades...
And thus emerges the dawn-
The one most venerated
Loved and desired.
What stays back is the past.
With the resonating feel,
That lingering touch
And that gentle caress.
Dead but resounding.
Barren but fulfilling.
Lost but not detached...
[Dedicated to the year that was...]
If you stood by a busy road with hands dug deep into your pockets, you would see the world whiz past you. Fast. Very fast.
The motion might even seem intimidating for its comprehension may not seem plausible. You might want to see how it feels like to be on the other side of the road but the relocation again will be a much hindered one, if at all. Undertaking the risk might also not seem to be a very receptive option. And you stay back. Just where you were. Looking at the world whiz past you. Fast. Very fast.
If you tried reasoning out as to why you can’t help but wait for the world to slow down, you would find yourself in an uncertain state mostly with no answers. And if you managed to seek the answers somehow, they wouldn’t be definite.
You’ll be told- “that’s how things are…that’s how they always have been…”
And ironically you have the freedom to choose to either accept this established proposition or reject it. More often than not established propositions are further strengthened by our meek acceptance for defiance though attractive is not a very easy-treaded path.
If you stood by a busy road you would also want to know where everything is headed to and why this urgency to reach there as soon as possible. And if you on the contrary do not know where you are headed it might bother you. The botheration might consume you day after day, month after month, year after year till it makes you hollow. A scary state of affairs.
But if you stood by a busy road you would also notice that this is not where you were destined to be. You are just on your way to get to some place. Anywhere. And this is not your settled position. This is not what you have been waiting for, where you’ve wanted to be. You’re still on your way. The journey is not yet over and maybe the time has not yet come…
Every girl practically dreams of this day. She hopes. She waits. She wishes.
So what is it like when "the guy" finally takes your hands in his, looks into your eyes, draws you closer and says...
I never knew this would happen to me. And this fast. Sometimes you are so surprised you don't know how to react and sometimes you are just so beyond surprised you simply don't react. I'm not sure if I should use the word 'embarrassed' but that's just how I felt. I could feel my cheeks going beyond a blushed-pink. I'm sure they must be red. An embarrassed red. And my eyes must have surely betrayed me. I'm not sure...
Well the toughest part is to withdraw your hands (the ones he's clutching tightly). Actually no, the toughest part is to look away. Something, I was pining to do and which I eventually managed to.
The guy had chosen just the right time. There were fireworks, some soft music behind (which I just can't seem to recall), the beautifully illuminated college campus and a crowd which didn't care who was in love with whom. They preferred to leave us alone. Not a much desired state if you ask me. I'd never felt more uncomfortable than this. Well...finally the official proposal was over. The guy was done with his going-down-on-my-knees-for you. Thankfully.
And who so ever thought getting proposed by someone is a dream come true let me tell you darlings, there's more than that. Trust me.
You actually have to give the poor chap an answer. That is a 'yes' or a 'no'. And that's the worst part of it. Lame and cliché excuses like I-err-need-err-some-err-time won't do. And the look 'this guy' had on his face, I'm sure he would have either killed himself or me if I dared say anything like that.
So how I actually wriggled out of the mess is a story in itself but what's worrying me is I someday have to come up with an answer. And that'll hurt. I don't know what lies ahead.
But hey getting proposed ain`t that bad. And the best part was,
"Take your time...think over it..."
And after I had just managed to blink and steal in some air,
This one's for my buddy (Reema Bhattacharya). And the exclusivity factor predominantly prevails.
That little talk with you I never believed could do wonders. And to think of it we literally spoke after months. And we talked and talked. There’s something about old buddies. And that something is a lot.
And I’m sure if we were to meet now after some years, we would absolutely take it right from here. Like we always were with each other. And what’s strange is we are always with each other. And we defy the distance norms. And laugh at those who lose at its expense.
Loved you and always will. You are that one person in my life who makes me believe that it’s not a lonely world. Not a lonely day. Not a lonely night.
(As mentioned above this post is meant only and only for Reema Bhattacharya. Worthless and unrelated comments are vehemently uninvited.)
I am not a Bengali but
Barman is my family name. So people are like,
“Barman?? You must be bong!!”
“Tch…tch…actually no…”
I might originally be from Uttar Pradesh but
Music and literature is profusely stuffed in its distinctive panache, here. And this city is politically charged to the core. Every one has a political opinion. And Mamata Banerjee is one crazy lady. When she’s not too busy yelling her lungs out in Singhur or some such place, she indulges in her favorite activity-calling bandhs. No here in
Matter of fact I hail from a college which lives, dreams, speaks and breathes politics-
I think I actually got to know what
It’s just cool out here to wear a Che T-shirt and proclaim yourself Communists. So when I asked a senior to tell me something about his philosophy, all he could manage was, “Che is my hero…”
Your T-shirt told me that already. Bloody fakers!!!
But not all are thus. Some know what they are doing. Some understand. I think most of them should do a little bit of exploration for themselves and then talk about Che and his philosophies. And if they really are as intellectual as they pose, I think they can give the environment a break by relaxing on their cheap ciggis…
The canteen seems to be a far cry from a conventional college canteen. At first your eye brows spring up on seeing the place, and then you get curious and mostly succumb. The crowd if not interesting is queer enough. It’s dark inside and mostly smoky. I don’t need to explain why.
I don’t think I can immerse myself into all this. Not this way atleast. I don’t believe in Communism. And I don’t understand State Theory. And I don’t fag.
The College needs to wake up and realize that there is more than simply dragging the autonomy drama. Anyways they have already lost on the autonomy thingy and even partial or complete freedom seems a distant possibility. In the mean time they can atleast take the initiative of clearing the mounds of garbage in the College campus.
Sorry, but it’ll take some time before I can point to the building above and say it loud without any inhibitions, “That’s where I belong…”
I’ve been rummaging around for a while now. I’ve lost something. And astoundingly, this new-found Absence is benign enough to calm me and wholly fill me up with serenity.
Losses manifest into answers, similar to the manifestation of sufferings into wisdom. Wisdom brings in tact. And tact is the weapon to prevent the next loss.
It’s all about that little loop. Its intransience brings in faith.
Faith restores the yearning to live again. To win and lose. And lose some more to finally win. Continuity is all it needs. As innate as it may seem, it’s the most implausibly achieved attribute.
As long as the loss paves the way for a sufferance which rekindles tolerance, rummaging seems worthwhile.
So, I’ve been rummaging around for a while now…
It’s the Happy Birthday today.
This is what The Telegraph had to say about those born on the 30th of October:
“You are more intelligent and curious than ambitious. Your independent and rational mind is hardly ruled by emotions alone. You are good at reading people’s nature. You are scared of loneliness, and conceal emotions. In love you are an idealist.”
Hehe…no comments. :D
Happy Birthday to me!!!
“But I couldn’t respond. My culture had taught me all the wrong things well. So I lay completely still, and gave no reaction at all. But the soul has no culture. The soul has no nations. The soul has no color or accent or way of life. The soul is forever. The soul is one. And when the heart has its moments of truth and sorrow, the soul can’t be stilled.
Gregory David Roberts.
Dear R,
It’s startling how someone tip-toes into your life and then makes a thundering departure. And yet you simply cannot fathom the reason for it all. You ask yourself if this is the end, you wait for something to turn up, in any form, in any way, something, anything…
You wonder if this was the pre-assigned termination to what seemed like an eternity.
You look back at all that had been and is no more. You feel the emptiness within; you find something stark about the entire set-up. You blame, you curse, you try to hate, and you undergo anger, frustration. Everything eventually fades away making way for your present, for your today, which looks back accusingly at your past.
Perhaps, what remains behind is a loss which only time can take care of.
They say to open the door ahead you have to close the one behind.
No matter how new the New may seem; no matter how familiar the Old may be. You ought to accept the conclusions.
You can live as a zombie for a day or two. You can cry into your pillow for a night or two. You can not really feel good about yourself for a while. You can ask everyone to get lost. You can…
But one fine morning, you will wake up, smile to that old fact, and gain normalcy just as miraculously as you had gone insane…
So just hold on.
Love,
M
[This is for you R. Your call really startled me. And a lill bit of it is for me as well.]
