Random

1.I spotted a big boat on the roadside, at 4 30 in the morning, on my way to the
Calcutta airport
2.I have never hated going on a tour so much before
3.I miss my childhood days more now; I guess getting married is a definitive seal on
the fact that those days are gone. Forever…
4.I hate dreamless sleeps. Even nightmares are welcome.
5.The restlessness that guides me is back.
6.It’s official- I hate the corporate world.
7.I just love the soundtracks and background score of “Love Aaj Kal”
8.I have started day dreaming again
9.I feel like going to a temple more frequently now a days- sign of strengthening or
weakening of belief?
10.I am more in love with myself than I have been for a long time now…

Dreams are nothing but the wishes...

10 things that I like the most
1.Winters
2.Rains
3.Old World Charm
4.Holidays with me having nothing to do
5.Eating out at different places
6.Sitting in a coffee shop, reading a book
7.Being admired by people
8.Tea in a clay cup or in old china
9.DDLJ & The Harry Potter Series
10.Friends the sitcom

5 things that I dream of
1.Living in a quiet hilly place with snowy caps (or snowfalls), in a wood cottage (with fire place) and running a nice little coffee shop (ideally Switzerland, Ireland, or UK countryside)
2.Doing a Ph.D. in classic literature from Oxford/Harvard
3.Going back in time in a early 1900’s set up and living there (ideally close to Tagore)
4.Being a backpack traveler and just spend my life like that
5.Being a professional author (something like J.K. Rowling)

Sigh...

The close skyline, the smell of big city, the twinkling lights of moving traffic, the alternate rings of my mobiles, the buzz of coffee machine, the music streaming from my laptop, the scent of room freshener, the aroma of fancy restaurants, the experience of a great mall, the heat beating air conditioners, self clad in high end brands, the urban conversations, the big dreams, the rush of modernity…

The missed dawns and dusks, a silent, serene walk, smell of first rain, whiff of clay cups and special tea, the light of twinkling stars in the naked sky, the scent of summer breeze, the hustle and bustle of a traditional market, a careless attire, slow moving fans, road side food joints, flowers thrown carelessly in the courtyard of a temple, the tranquility of a solitary evening, the ease of staying anywhere, the thrill of rare rings of the telephone, the endless wondering aloud, the meaningless talks to kill time, the small wishes, the thrill of life…

And he said...

Everything ends badly, otherwise it wouldn’t end…

Wish you were here (again...)

The careless existence…
My ability to dream, and to dare. My wish to soar up in the sky. The child inside me that was still holding on to your hems. The grown up woman that had started understanding your pains. The girl that had all her thoughts read by you. The brat who had the tiniest of her wishes fulfilled by you.
They all miss you…
I do not understand how you spanned the entire expanse of my skies, without me realizing it! I cannot figure out how you made everything fall into place for me without me even noticing it. All I saw was a life full with comfort and happiness. I could not see your invisible hands tidying up my now-topsy-now-not world. Now when I look back to those innumerable insignificant moments of my life, moments that were pleasure, joy and peace- I realize you were the guiding force that shaped them the way they were. And I understand the significance of those moments now- when I miss them, when I can’t have them. Reading a book comfily in those winter afternoons, having my favorite samosas on those wet evenings, having my favorite dishes in the tiffin everyday, receiving a carton full of goodies in the hostel totally unexpected, getting more dresses to wear than even I could desire as a teen ager, getting my favorite music cassettes unexpectedly…. Trivialities like these… And also significant moments, when you supported my decisions when nobody else did, when you willingly colored your dreams according to my choice, throwing away your wishes, and when you gladly made my plans the purpose of your life…
And then one fine day, without saying good bye, you just went away, never to come back…
I miss all these. And more than anything else, I miss having a home.
You were my home. I have none now…

Untitled

She sat by the window the whole night, watching the sky turning from pitch dark to grey to maroonish orange. Her eyes were dry. Stark. She knew it’s a bad omen. Tears mean hurt. Arid eyes mean hurt that went too deep to induce tears- like a bullet that goes so deep in your innards that no blood comes out. She could feel the shadow of dead in her eyes. Few months had given her a lifetime of memories. She wondered whether that’s what they would remain now-memories. A ghost of what it was and never could be. She felt cold, in the midst of a very hot spring! She wanted to think but couldn’t. She wanted to talk, to tell somebody what she was feeling. She thought that would take some part of the pain away. Talking about it. It’s like letting your dense pain out in the thin air through words, so that it gets diluted. But there was nobody she could turn to. The clouds were dark and there was no sun. She knew she needed courage and conviction and above all, a clear understanding. Instead, she had got confusion, and cowardice. And like every coward, she wished for some divine help, knowing full well there would be none…

And like her story, it’s incomplete….

Magic Dust

And when the waves are high,
And the night is dark;
Wish thy light shone,
Away and yet so close.
When the path is wrought
With hardships galore,
Wish thy feather touch
Took away the sore.
And when tired and wasted,
I sleep on the bed of stone;
Wish thy magic wand
Will drop some magic dust
To fill my eyes with dreams…

of broken wings and sunday morning web surfing....

Your poetry-
I wish to look at,
As they look into the mirror…
But they reflect the world,
And I am but a tiny speck…
The craftsman’s skills
You possess
To create a world
And be the king.
And a page
You make of me;
Never, ever a star
That the monarch longs for.
Playful you are
With your words
And I am a butterfly
In the lad’s hands
My fate
As always
To lie on the flower’s bed
With crumpled wings
And broken breath…

Mirage

In the free sky,
He flies.
Soaring above
In the blue expanse
A vision of world
From a distance
A song in heart
Of free existence,
He flies…
And dipping a little
He thought he would rest
In the oasis
Little did he know
That what he thought
A haven of peace
Was just a mirage…
In the free sky,
He flies.

The wind blows sharp;
The night is long,
The night is dark…
She walks alone
Takes tiny steps
Bracing her heart
She prays (in silence)
Lining the path,
Silhouettes galore
Voices of darkness
Rise to the fore
But in her soul
She sings a song
Of the morning to come,
When the night is gone
Walks she on,
The obscure night she defies;
As she walks and waits
For the sun to rise...