A Memoir

Was it you I saw
Through the crowd
Of people and memories
Whose fields well ploughed
Are home to the
Wasted barren scapes?
My heart digests
My mind escapes.


Was it you I touched?
On my window sill
Disguised as dew
So cold and still
And full and fresh
And clean and pure
Was it you I felt?
I guess I’m sure.


Intricately carved
Explicitly viewed
Every glance every look
Is deemed miscued
As I think it over
Was it you I knew?
The questions are many
Answers, very few.

Troughs And Crests

Forbidden and forgotten,
I walk on thin ice.
I feel lonely, hurt,
And surprisingly nice.

Wandering withered
Blank look in my eyes,
A distant gaze comforts me,
As i feel i rise.

Barefoot and bareback,
I walk on narrow ridges,
Love you more than i've ever loved,
And try to build those bridges.

Shamed and shunned,
I walk my way.
They look to me for answers,
There's nothing I say.

Inherently impatient,
I wait for you here.
I force a languid smile and,
Drive away those tears.

Heartbroken and happy,
On river banks i stand,
Waiting for your ship to dock,
And you to hold my hand.

Pronouns: 5

Pronouns hide
What you mustn’t see.
I write about.
Her and me.

Plot holes aplenty,
Potholes rare.
If there is no 'I',
My story ain't there.

Strands of moments,
I pluck and twist.
Sleight of hands,
Turn of wrists.

The one Pronouns are for,
Doesn’t read them much.
My tragic comedy,
Is ironic as such.

They think I am glassy,
Brittle yet bright.
Say no, I would on loop
If they weren't so right.

Now you can laugh
All you want.
I know u wish to
But u shan't.

Coz yes you are lovely,
But not more than she:
My rock of strength
The one for me.

And it’s a secret,
I wouldn’t bare.
I thought it was easy
It isn’t, I swear.

I have been in,
And I have been out.
And this one time
I'm expecting a rout.

A rout not of nature
But of her force
Blindingly exquisite
Delicately coarse.

That, at the moment
Is all you need to know.
I'll leave you with that,
And now I will go

Go away to,
A lost paradise.
Where she is with me
And all else is nice.

Pronouns: 4

They hated each other. Sheer, dark, passionate hatred. The feeling was mutual. They were both popular, strong, aggressive. Many loved them, and many derived pleasure from the way they would always be at each other’s throats. The mere thought of them fighting it out in the open would make many shudder. Such was their impact. They were the most revered men out there.

They would be surrounded by women at all times. Neither paid much attention. They were too focused to let such things interfere.

They were friends when they were young. An incident as naïve as name calling had led to their first fight. There was blood; later tears. Never again were they seen together.
Fear motivated them. Fear of losing out. Competition brought out their best. They were addicted to each other. It would be impossible to imagine either of them working as hard as they normally would without a direct threat from the other. Their situation was tense, always on the edge. The “tipping point” was always around the corner. They were to erupt. They were to fight.

According to a Peruvian tradition, people go around punching one other on Christmas Morning in order to start the festivities on a fresh note, leaving all ill will behind.
They needed something similar. They had held their emotions within themselves for long enough. It was time to take it all out. They fixed up a meeting. The time had come.

Rumours spread like wildfire, they say. The truth spreads even quicker.
Soon, the town was buzzing with excitement. Its two most successful sons were about to sort out an issue that had exceeded its welcome.

They met at the city ground. It was crowded. The crowd had gone quiet.
Anticipation was uniform. Calmness rare.

The two men, tall and strongly built, were staring at each other. Staring hard.
They were amazed by how only a few knew the truth. They would later laugh at their ignorance. Assumptions were wrong. People doubted the truth; they trusted lies.

People expected them to fight. A few punches at least. That is how, they thought, emotions bottled up for decades emerge.

They incessantly stared at each other. One rolled up his sleeves, the other loosened his collar.
Then they moved towards each other and kissed.

They would fight this together.
#377

Pronouns: 3

He loved her. Yes he did. A part of him always knew that. A part of him wasn't ready to accept that he did.
He had been in denial for long enough. It was time. Yes, he loved her.

He would sit in a corner, looking at her from far. Their eyes would meet, his eyes would light up. He used to tell her how she would be the first to know if he ever fell in love. The time had come.

She loved him. Always had. Unlike him, there was no denial in her story. She had always been straight forward about her emotions. She knew she was in love, she was just waiting for the right time. The time had come.

Every meeting would cause her to grin endlessly, every touch would make her spine tingle. His raspy baritone would get her weak in the knees. She used to adore him. Worship him. Love him.

He meanwhile, was in awe of her. Her beauty was mesmerising. She was beautiful to him. It didn't matter what the others said about her "not being his type". If he ever had a type, it was her. Wit, edge, humour. She was a goddess to him. He loved her.

She was scared. Scared that he would turn her down. Scared that an emotional confrontation would pose a threat to their friendship. She was scared of losing him. She was scared of him leaving. Of things never being the same again. She pushed all these worries away when she met him that morning. The leap of faith was necessary. She was in love and nothing else mattered.

He had his own insecurities. He knew how people changed after they began dating. He loved her too much to risk losing her. He loved her as she was. He was scared she would change. Distances would creep in. He had convinced himself that she had no feelings for him. It wouldnt be a proposal; it would be a confession. That morning was to be big.

They met that day. Both hiding the same thing from the other. They looked at each other. They both had a feeling of loss. He was looking at her as if this was to be the last time he would see her. She returned the look with a tinge of pain in her eyes.
They knew that their worlds would change if the truth came out. They knew that what they would be risking was more than what they were to gain. Both wished to take the leap. Neither could.

The truth can wait, both thought. They smiled again, and walked away.

It was not to be.

Pronouns: 2

And then he stopped. Stopped mid-sentence. Something had hit him; he had no idea what. Or maybe he did.

These were recent occurences.
He felt for her. An unhappy childhood isnt easy. Being alone for years isnt easy. The ability to count your friends on the fingers of a hand isnt one to be proud of. They hated her. All of them.

He felt for her. He could do anything for her smile. He had done so for months. He thought he could go on forever. He was wrong.

Today when she shouted at him, he saw his patience run out. He had given up his all. He had nothing to speak of. He was spent. He was weary. He was tired. He was angry.

He realised that expectation was a monster in hiding. But he hadn't expected much, had he?

He had expressed extreme concern. He had been caring. He loved her. Almost.
He never asked for a reciprocative show of emotions. All he asked for was some respect. Some sensibility. Some sensitivity.

Sadly, she never felt that he deserved any of it.
He was nothing to him. She thought he was smitten. She felt he enjoyed her company. She never realised that it was he who made her time worthwhile. It was he who completed her.
Yes, realisation is rare.

He had loved and failed. But that never hurt him as much as this did.

He had lived for her and her alone. Her whims were his commands. He just wanted her happy. He could die for that smile.
He wasnt in love he said. He was wrong again.

She found him great. She found him fun. She found him soft. She found him easy. She never found what lay underneath those smiles, those blank eyes, that crazy exterior. She never cared to look for what was to be looked. She was wrong.

And then he stopped. Stopped mid-sentence. He knew what had hit him. He saw the nonchalance in her eyes. He saw carelessness. He felt disgusted. He felt hurt. He felt like slapping her. And he would have. But he was right and she was wrong. He would never let that change. He walked away. Never looked back.

She never heard from him again.

Pronouns..

Often looked at as an incomplete science, astrology has its takers in the modern world.

There are people who swear by their horoscopes. She most definitely wasn’t one of them. Rational, pragmatic and smart, she’d lived his life well. Much loved and with legions of friends, she was genuine fun. Horoscopes, though, meant nothing to her, being fun reads at most. She believed that astrology was for escapists who wished to blame all their misfortunes on their stars instead of growing a pair and taking it all chin up. Deep within, she longed for love. There had been relations galore, but none had made her feel the way she wanted to. She had never found love, but would keep telling herself how she hadn’t yet looked for it in the right place.

He was different. Silent and receptive, he had been a happy soul. Known for his sense of humor, he was the entertainer. But he had always lived a quiet life, laughing with abandon around the people he cared about, and amazingly awkward around everyone else.

While returning from college, he pulled out his cellphone, and searched for the character traits assigned to his zodiac sign. They read it together and had a good laugh. The zodiac said that the two were made for each other. He laughed it off and so did she, superficially. Within her, a storm was brewing. Tomorrow, it would be.

She had always felt for him. There was always that tug at her core she felt when he was near. He was a charmer, she’d told him, he had always shrugged the compliment off. She was hot property, with guys queueing up just to have a glance. She’d been asked out innumerably, but she hadn’t accepted any proposals since college had begun. She wasn’t sure, if she could commit to anyone but him. She thought she liked him, she thought she was crazy.

Her feelings weren’t periodic, as she would have imagined. There was no ebbing of tide. All that remained was a stable, static, positive feeling. She felt for him. She always wished to see if he would ever drop a hint.
He meanwhile, was oblivious of the world around him. He had always maintained a safe distance from what he called “The abyss of dating”. People thought he was scared. Scared of rejection, scared of heartbreak. Actually, he was too happy with his life to care.

They spent most of their time together. There were others of course. He loved them all equally, but she had always had this special place in her heart for him. She found it difficult to imagine how he hadn’t noticed it yet. She had always paid him more attention, always prioritizing according to his comfort. She could do anything to spend time with him, she had made that quite obvious. She was in awe of his wit and humour, of how good he was at heart. He found her incredibly sweet, period.

She had other men in her life, yes. But there was this resounding voice in her head that reminded her that dating any of them would mean that she would lose him forever. She knew, that he hardly felt the same way for her. She knew, he would never date her. But the thought of losing him for ever, was too much to take. No other guy held a candle to him. He wasn’t perfect, nobody is. But she felt that “they” would be.

He had always liked her. She was one of his closest friends, very pretty and an amazing person to be with. He knew that he was at his best when he was with her. She was awesome. She had been very supportive to him, and he acknowledged it all. But he had never thought of a romantic alliance.
The question was, what if he did?

She had never thought that things would reach a stage when she would face an urge to ask him out. She knew that this was what she had looked for, what she had been longing for. She had always dreamt of this being special. But in her heart she knew, that he was simple at heart and it was simplicity he would fall for. It was the timing of the move that she was concerned about. She realized that she was on the edge. Any closer to him, and she would fall over.

TOMORROW

She woke up that morning with a spring in her stride, jumping to the washroom and dressing up in her best. For the first time in her life, she read her horoscope with her fingers crossed. It said “A perfect day with your perfect one”. Her heart paced within her. She smiled the most charming of her smiles at the mirror, felt well about how she looked, and raced to meet him.
She could see him near the college gate, avidly waiting for her. Waiting to enter the college together, as always.
He noticed her from far, waved first, and then smiled. She returned both with fervor. She walked up to him, and gathering all her courage, told him how she felt for him, how she loved him, how she’d been in love with him ever since college started. She went on, passionately, looking into his eyes, searching for the tiniest bits of acceptance. She spoke from the heart, he noticed that with ease. But even when she was speaking, she couldn’t keep herself from noticing his all knowing smile, his perfect hair and those two eyes which meant everything to her. Her eyes caught every little movement his loose strands of hair were making. She was in love, finally.

She confessed her love, asked him out. She was rejected.
After all, astrology is an incomplete science.

Of Focus, and Journeys

It’s normal to assume that working individuals need a break. Irrespective of the type of “work”. But I wasn’t working. Ever since school has ended, I have been on an extended vacation. College began, the first semester is now over, but my break continues. All that I have done during this 6 month period is write a couple dozen poems, with a handful of good ones and the rest worthy of only the trash box. And some part of me knows how true this is, and I don’t feel too good about this.

It all began last July. By all I mean college. The one place which has become the focal point of all my activities. It suddenly feels like my life rotates around this one expanse we know as the University Campus. Not that it is a bad thing. Focusing one’s existence is necessary, but I fear that that isn’t what has happened here. I’m hardly drawn to the buildings, the fields, the admin blocks, the corridors, the classrooms. Somehow, despite all this being integral to me, they still feel empty at some level. I do realize what causes this emptiness, and how to fill in. Places are never memorable on their own; it’s the people who make places memorable. And the reason why I love college is that I love the people at college.

This could very well turn into those thankful endnotes at the conclusion of what people consider an era, filled with acknowledgments, apologies, words of appreciation and those of gratitude. But it would be silly to do so at this stage. Most feelings are immature, most understandings are conjecture and most conclusions are assumptions. To write about the people around me at this stage will be a sad attempt filled with illogical projections and subjective idiocy on my part, something I can totally do without.

So, all one can make out of this piece is:
1) I know I haven’t been writing for quite some time now and really wish to resume.
2) Life is based on campus. Campus is all about friends.
3) I’m not in a position to write about my friends.

So where does that leave me?
Back where I began. With the fire to write, the will to type down pages at end, to go on without stops, to do what I love. To write. But with nothing to write about.

Four hundred words on, I haven’t yet started.
This, I’d like to believe is a phase. A phase that is meant to pass over with time. But now, with time I have come to realize that this unproductive phase has become periodic in nature. It requires immense focus to recover from this crevice I find myself trapped in. Focus sadly, is nowhere in sight.
And that is where I’ll stop. I’ll stop because I can see that I have ceased to make sense. I’ll stop because I know something’s wrong, and unless I set that right, its pointless looking for the focus I keep talking of.
I can see now what people mean when they say that one has been circumlocuting for hours without reaching anywhere. I see myself, backing off and onto a journey looking for what I need, because I’m not sure that I know what that is.

Till then, keep faith.

Fire & Light

No! I can’t breathe
No! I can’t wait.
I run, and burn,
And suffocate.

These walls around me,
Their suppression is on.
Oh my! Oh my!
How woebegone!

Seasons have changed.
My throat still dry.
I wish I could sulk
And sit down and cry.

Hopeless, insatiable;
My inexplicable need.
The thirst, pain, want;
All ineffable, indeed.

The big Man above me.
A guiding light? Maybe.
But then what use is light of,
To a man who cannot see?

My being rocked, fits of pain.
Shuddering thoughts, in my mind.
Some say it’s clear, right ahead.
I can see, yet I am blind.

Bleeding within, I am tonight.
The infighting resumes with the wrong and the right.
I push and I push, with all my might.
But it eludes me; much needed insight.

Battered and bruised, tattered yet whole.
I’ve lost my mind; now losing my soul
The world feels empty, dark and cold;
As I put the assent of darkness on hold.

The light must emerge,
The light must inspire.
After eons of darkness
I’ve just found the fire.

The fire will heal me,
Put me to rest.
But come back, I will.
With more of my best.

Scarlet Letter..

Written in a jiffy, just to prove a point, but apt enough to earn a place in my heart.
From Someone....To the one whom I thought of as "THE ONE"

My Dearest,

I won’t take much of your time
Knowing that it is precious.
Too precious for my letter,
And for me, for that matter.
But few things need to be said.
Firstly, I need to thank you.
Thank you for coming
In my life, and befriending me.
You made me look forward to
All our meetings.
Thanks for that.
I thank you for all
The memories you left me with:
When they come back to me
They still make me smile.

Now, do I need to thank you
For going away from me?
For moving to a remote place
Where I can never reach.
If you want, I can
Thank you for that too; you know
If you want I could’ve done
Anything, for you.

Now, I say sorry.
For failing to live up
To your expectations; you know
Living by others’ expectations
Has never been my strong point.
Sorry, for all those times
When I needlessly came up
To talk to you; you know
My heart wants relations.
Sorry again for failing
To be the man you wanted.

If someday, you need me,
I am still there for you
Just where you had left me.

To this, I sign off.
So long, my dearest.

Ever yours

-------------------------------------------------------

Thank you Satyaki Dasgupta . And sorry for not informing you.

Ishaqzaade....

Love is life. Even more maybe. That is what this movie professes, and with some conviction.
The introductory part of the movie will definitely leave a smile on your face as Director Habib Faisal pops up ingenuitive ideas at crucial intervals to keep you engaged through a slick and span screenplay, with ample twists and turns to keep you guessing, “what next?”

The story isn't exactly "different" but the presentation is definitely refreshing. The raw appeal of the movie also works at many different levels, be it the brilliantly choreographed “Chokra Jawaan” or the post-election firing spree.
The characters have been chalked out brilliantly by Faisal, true to his detailed style (eg. Do Dooni Chaar) and are truly endearing. Parma, the hot headed grandson of a Rajput patriarch with an angel of a mother and Zoya, the only daughter of the incumbent MLA who prefers Guns to Earrings are a match made in hell. The acting is pitch perfect as Parineeti Chopra and Arjun Kapoor slip effortlessly into the layered characters of Zoya and Parma. Arjun does full justice to his role while Parineeti does very well to give a domineering performance around an almost all-male cast.
The dialogues are raw and charming, besides being humorous on most parts.

The movie is a tad too fast in certain sections as the “falling-in-love” part is almost rushed through and one remains bothered whether love actually happens that fast. But once the initial jitters give away, u can’t help but love this awesome onscreen pairing of Zoya and Parma who remind you of cute memories from your own story.

The music, by Amit Trivedi, is outstanding. The quantity, quality and placement of the songs is in tune with the theme of the movie and Amit Trivedi proves his mettle yet again. “Pareshaan”, ”Aafaton Ke Parinde” and “Chokra Jawaan” were the best of the lot while “Jhalla Wallah” was a light hearted tune and “Ishaqzaade” an endearing melody.
The movie has political undertones which remain largely suppressed by the romantic saga of the leading couple and show an uncouth and barbarian side of our society.

The message at the end of the movie is, indeed, heart rendering and, the climax is unexpected, and will be liked by some, disliked by others but remembered by all.

Few movies and their characters refuse to leave you even long after you have left the theatre.
One of those movies, totally.

I'll Wait Forever...

It pained me a lot
It pains me still
Today i love you
Tomorrow i will.


My hope is true
And full and deep.
Did i go wrong
In this faithful leap?


I am left weak
I am left tired
This terrible defeat
Is fate conspired


You are YOU
And I am ME
I miss those days when
We were WE.


Bucket-load of tears
From my eyes.
Painful screams
Hopeless sighs


I had planned so much
It was good to see
But happiness and me?
Not to be.


It wasn't working for you
Or so had you said
Wish you thought with your heart
And not with your head.


We were perfect
I can still say
I'll keep trying
To get it that way


Love, hope, tears
Sprayed and showered
At night without you
My heart cowered


In my poems
The subject was you
In my heart
My love was true.


My love was enough
For two of our size
I'm waiting for the day
You wake up, realize.


Realize you will
And the moment you do
You'll find me waiting to say
I love you too....




INFINITY...............

Living Hell

“This Week Has Been, The BEST EVER” That is how my last post ended. And I meant every letter of it. It WAS the best week I had ever had. All of this sounds ironic now. Now that things have gone SO wrong. I wouldn’t have wondered much if anyone else would title this entry as “Worst Week Ever” if he was in a similar situation. But, I wont. Never.
I made a mistake, a silly one indeed, and paid the price. I was pushed right out of heaven into the burning fury of hell, and that too by someone, I could give my life for. And for the records, IT HURTS.

I have always heard, and believed, that “Good things happen to good people, always.” And every time I fall upon this line, I look up to heaven and say “Why me?” All I know is that I am a good person. Never cheated in an exam, never stolen from a friend, never hurt a soul (knowingly). Actually, as I used to tell my friends a little time back, “There is nothing I have done which I can’t tell my mother about fearlessly.” Explains my stand. “Why Me?”


Past 25 days, she owned me. Now, I’m like discarded trash. I used to wake up waiting for her SMS. I would give her a short, sweet call and head towards school. We’d meet at school, during the breaks mostly. I’d come home and would always find her SMS waiting for me “Call me up. J” And call her, I would. I’d text her after the call, and wait for her reply. The numerous intermittent spaces in between would feel like hours and would be spent studying (mostly). We would sneak small moments from our water-tight Class 12 schedule. This would go on till we had to study or either of us fell asleep. Those days were sweet. Very. I loved her voice. I loved US. I just hope that she did so too. I hadn’t dreamt for years before I met her. She made me dream. And how.


I still can’t get over her. Need proof? I don’t dream now. I have nightmares.



In those 25-odd days, she became a habit. She was the neatest piece of treble whisky and I was a oh-so-cravingly-thirsty alcoholic. I don’t get over people easily. I’m not the “move-on” types. Have tried it on a number of occasions with a number of people, but this time, I ain’t even trying, because I know, that I won’t be able to. Or rather, I just don’t want to.


This blog might never have been THIS personal. But today I am so emotionally broke that I sincerely don’t care what people think of me. All I can say is that I’m still paining. It’s reduced, considerably due to the overtly optimistic nature I possess but sometimes, reality does bring me down to earth and, it hurts again.



Now that she is gone, there is this gaping, scathing, searing hole, punched through me. The texts are gone. The calls aren’t half as close. It’s like I’m going through cold turkey. Maybe it wasn’t just a habit. It was an addiction. And I was an addict. The hole through my chest goes so deep that I can’t do anything apart from study. Good for me? I don’t know. Maybe if you want a dead-from-within-95%-scoring-zombie. Not what I want. I want her. No, I need her.


She said she wasn’t ready for this. She said she needed time. She said she needed space. I said I’d make sure she gets it all, and more. But she just didn’t need me. End-of-story.
Every cloud has a silver lining, and so does this one. We are still friends. We used to be good ones before it all started. I’ll have to make my castle all over again. All this for my Architectural ambitions. Hopefully I’ll make a real castle someday. One which will stand tall against the skyline. That would make me proud. Not happy. My happiness lies somewhere else, with someone else. And you, hopefully you read this. And when you do, please remember- P.S. I still love you…


:’(

Something Beautiful...

Millions are praying for it daily,
But just somehow, happiness chose me.
And though I can’t believe it still,
Something beautiful happened to me.

Poetry is just a medium,
A medium to express my soul.
Last week I was incomplete,
Now suddenly, I’m whole.

Chains and fetters bound me,
All of a sudden, I’m free.
I just found an angel,
Something beautiful happened to me.

Tonnes of songs, written and heard.
But cried and died, for your one word,
Pain will go, Joy will stay.
Forever, Truly, I’ll remember that day.

I was I, and You were You,
Before the day, we became We.
Believe it or not, actually,
Something beautiful happened to me.

To be happy now, I don’t need to try.
All credits involved, belong to you.
You are what, I’ll remember myself by.
Now that my dream, has actually come true.

Your wish, My command.
Was and will always be.
For you are, the very reason,
Something beautiful, happened to me.

Hope it always stays this way.
Wish this may, end never.
This week gone by, truly,
Has been THE BEST EVER.

P.S. I love you..

After 12 years of formal schooling, I have seen people meet, hate each other, like each other, love each other, get into a relationship, and then, unfortunately, get out of it. There is this friend of mine who “loved” a girl for two long years before he “got” her, then stayed together for a year and then, recently broke up. There is another friend of mine who hasn’t seen the girl he loves for 2 whole years but still insists that he does, and trust me HE DOES. Then I know girls who have hidden their feelings behind a smile for seasons together, just to see the guys they love happy. Love can be mushy, bittersweet, tiring, painful, etc. But it’s love, so never mind.

I had never been able to wrap my head around the entire concept of “love. But that was until, I met a couple.

When I do a bit of soul searching an ask myself “Why I thought of writing this?” I have but one reply, “Oh c’mon, they are perfect.”

This weekend, I met the perfect couple. PERFECT.

And when I asked them what love is all about, this is what they said:

”Love is something that makes one feel that life is perfect. One forgets all pains. One bears all troubles. One endures all storms. One does everything he can. One smiles. That’s the power of love.

It is like your life revolves around a central point. It is like you find the focus of your existence.

You wish you could be with them 24X7, 365, and you still want more of them. That's love.

You were having a rave party on the outskirts of the city and on your way home the police catches you drunk and driving, and right when you think that nothing can save you and you have screwed up big time, your sober friend on the passenger seat owns up and takes the blame, goes through a lot of trouble, while you stay free.
When in love, you want to be that ‘friend on the passenger seat’. That is love

You have Rs.5 as your cell phone balance and just because you want to hear her voice, you spend every penny you have (even go into negative balance) and don’t think about it once with regret. That’s love.

When you, dreamless for 5 years, see the face of the person of your dreams, in your dreams, standing barefoot in the sand, underneath a clear blue sky and her face lit up by the sun, its love.

When you feel twice as awkward as she does when you introduce her to your friends, it’s stupid, and it’s love.

When you promise something out of the way and then end up doing something out of the way just to ensure that you fulfill your promise, its love.

When you see a smile on the face of that special person, and you wish to hold on to that moment forever, its love.

When you are in the balcony, and the sky is twilight, and the moon has just started to shine bright, and you are on the phone with your special one, and you tell him "this is the best moment of the day" its love.

When you want to die immediately just because “I always wanted to die this happy” its love.

And when it is love, well, it is love”

Sounds great.
God Bless Us!!
;-)

*ting*.

Someone...

Well, this isn't my creation. This is what someone wrote about someone. And as soon as i read this, i knew that I was posting it here. What if it isn't mine? It's from the heart and, well, that's all that matters. To someone, wish i could write as well.

It’s the scariest thing ever to realize how much someone means to you. When it hits you, I mean really hits you, all these thoughts and questions rush through your head at once. A sad emotion even starts to creep on you slowly inch by inch as you start to wonder. What if for some reason things don’t work out? - How are you possibly going to live without them? Someone that was once a stranger, now is the only person you know like the back of your hand. Someone you once had no emotions for, now has the power to break your heart. Someone you never used to hang out with, now owns most of your time. Someone you never thought you’d care about, now owns your entire life. Someone you once lived without, you now wish to hold onto forever.

That Sinking Feeling

I walk for a minute,
It feels like a mile.
That sinking feeling
’s been around for a while.

Life is scattered;
Torn pages.
Somewhere within’
Fury rages.

Places and faces, zip me by.
Memories return, in the blink of an eye.
Move on, I must, and so I try.
And as I fail, I stop, and cry.

I cry out loud,
but then, no one hears.
This is worse
Than the worst of my fears.

I know not what,
Causes me grief.
Though it shouldn’t,
Pain brings relief.

You, me, us.
I can’t correlate.
My being suffers,
My soul suffocates.

A simmering storm,
Is in my mind.
Heart and soul
In perpetual grind.

In pain I stand,
Laughing away.
This sinking feeling,
It’s here to stay.

Town To City: Life In A Metro!

Town to city. A small, sleepy, boring place where the only bustling areas were the main markets; to the largest city in the country, full of life, full of people buzzing , moving, running, never ending. It’s a geographical distance of 1600 km, a mental distance of a million more miles. That is how far I’ve come- Siliguri to Delhi.

Problems, I had in plenty. I had new friends to make, new place to adjust in, new people to accommodate and new city to live; and all of this without parents.

My father once told me, “Not all fingers are same in length, but when they bend, they all stand equal; life becomes easy when one bends to adjust to all situations.”
I took it to heart and tried to adjust as much as possible.

Friends were easy to make, given my extrovert nature. I was strong willed enough, to accommodate new people and slowly, with the passage of time I started to enjoy living in this megacity.

9 months have passed, since I shifted base to New Delhi. These 9 months have changed me quite a lot. Not enough for you to see, but enough for me to feel it. I had come here with a certain excitement within me. I had a spring in my steps, a smile on my face, jolly good song on my lips, a sparkle in my eyes. All that’s lost now, under the layers of adjustment I have added to my being. My highly adaptable nature tends to go against me. My only fear is that at some point of time in the near future, I might just end up losing my overall self due to the adjustments; something I don’t want to happen, ever. The mirror doesn’t show much of a difference but whenever I look inside me, I see frustration building up. "Dil walon ki Dilli", isn’t exactly so. Actually, I won’t think twice before calling it heartless. People are headstrong, confident, self obsessed. They claim to have big hearts, but have big egos instead. The wide roads are polar opposite to the narrow mindset of people. The greenery around seems insignificant to the darkness in people.

But just when everything starts to go wrong, a voice inside me says that despite all its flaws, Delhi is not all that bad. It’s visually beautiful and if one looks at the right places, one may very easily find genuinely good people. These people are the only ones who keep my life worthwhile. People here are emotional and tend to get easily attached to you(very deeply, at times). And this has both its positive and negative effects.

These 9 months have taught me more than the rest of my life put together. I have met so many different people. I have learnt to communicate to my benefit. I have learnt to put up a certain level of pretence in my daily life to keep my cards close to my chest for extensive periods of time. Now I differentiate better (both people and scientific variables.)

I find detaching myself from people easier I know the limit till which I may open up. I might have lost a little bit of stability, but have grown on grounds of mental strength.

Rockstar: Love is Divine!!!

ROCKSTAR (U/A)
Director:Imtiaz Ali
Cast: Ranbir Kapoor, Nargis Fakhri, Kumud Mishra, Shammi Kapoor.


"Udhar, yahaan se bahot door. Galat aur sahi ke paar. Ek maidan hai..........wahin milunga main tujhe." - Rumi

Imtiaz Ali's modern-day epic begins and ends with the afore mentioned lines.

The movie starts in spectacular style with Jordan, the rockstar, being chased onn the streets of Prague and then kicking off a concert to a tremendous response from the audience. From here on, the movie works in flashback, with the main plotline revvolving around a yong Delhi-Jaat boy Janardhan Jakhar(JJ) and his ambition/dream/hope/wish/desire of becoming a rockstar. Someone as big as Jim Morrison, if not bigger. The manager of his college canteen tells him(perhaps in jest) "Toote hue dil se hi sangeet nikalta hai" (True music emerges only from a broken heart). JJ takes him a little too seriously and pursues Heer, the college bombshell, in order to get his heart broken. The plot evolves with the friendship of the young couple and their separation, how JJ(now Jordan) loses control over his life and how he gets it back. The climax, to say the least, is magical. And i am speechless.

Imtiaz Ali proves once again that he is the undisputed Baadshah of love-stories. No one knows, understands and depicts love the way he does. Socha Na Tha, Jab We Met, Love Aaj Kal and Rockstar. Four movies from the genius, four movies from another world. Outstanding.

Nargis Fakhri, as Heer, is spell-bindingly beautiful. You just want to see her. On and on. For ever and ever. Yeah, THAT beautiful. And even though her dialogues are ni=ot quite up to the mark, the effort she has put into the role deserves appreciation..

The true Rockstar of the movie though, is Ranbir Kapoor. His portrayal of JJ/ Jordan is outstanding, amazing, awesome and simply brilliant. He has dissolved himself in the soul of the character and how well he has acted can be judged from the fact that when you see the movie, you do not see R.K., u see only JJ/Jordan. The evolution of the character has been beautifully depicted by Ranbir. R.K. is going to be remembered for Rockstar. For Long, very long. Mesmerizing. Extra-ordinary.

The movie has a beautiful background scores and really soulful numbers from the king himself, A.R. Rahman.The songs are so good that they almost single handedly carry the movie forward.

Dialogues are crisp. Editing is crisper.

Overall, Rockstar is a movie with a soul.. If your heart beats for someone, Rockstar will make it beat faster. Its been an hour since i left the movie theatre and sat down to write this but, i am still speechless, dumbstruck, amazed by sheer cinematic genius. Guys and gals, a MUST WATCH!!!

Post Boards Blues

Class 10 was a pain. A year of endless studies. A year of innumerable failed attempts to solve mind-boggling mathematical problems. A year, which held five full term examinations for the students of my (ex)school. Out of the twelve calendar months there were five months of examinations, three months off, for preparations, two months of vacations and only two months of classes. Such a schedule could have sapped anyone dry but here I am, fit and fine, up and running, my boards all over and a whole new life ahead of me.

But as I plan to leave Siliguri, I look back upon the years I have spent in this town and the thorough enjoyment that I have had as a resident of this place. It was thirteen years back, in 1998, that I first came two this sleepy town at the foothills of the Himalayas and I have loved every moment I have spent here. School had become an integral part of my life and now as I think of leaving it in order to broaden my future prospects I feel nostalgic of all the moments I spent with my friends laughing about the incidents of the day before and ruminating over future possibilities of the humorous kind. The lunch breaks in which my friends and I used to play some sweet football will always stay embedded in my memory. The school field was amongst the largest in Siliguri. A sprawling belt of green with goal posts at regulated intervals was the centre of our footballing activities. The enormous size of the field can be depicted by the fact that it was large enough to accommodate four football fields, two cricket pitches with full boundaries and a volleyball court. The edges of the field were cemented as if meant to be sit upon and that is what we used to do sometimes when we were not sweating it our on the football field. This was our very own version of the classic Bengali adda. Topics of discussion would range from politics to Sunday’s cricket match, from exams to marks and from love, to life in general. These conversations on the most serious of topics were made jovial by the brilliant sense of humour that we possessed. At times we would be seen guffawing for extensive periods of time and when sanctioned by teachers we would include them in the revelry and ensure that no one left without a smile on their lips. Sitting on the first bench in classes and still continuously chattering to friends about love and life despite being literally under the nose of the teacher was always so much fun.

An injury to a friend would concern all of us and it would be amazing to see how the fellow who had only just cracked a joke at the injured guy would be the first to rush to the infirmary and inform the nurse of the pain his friends was in.

We were a tolerant and non-violent group of fun loving students. Most of our time was spent poking fun at each other but never would anyone mind such good spirited jokes made on him. None of it was taken seriously. It was all meant to be fun and what fun it was. None of us would fight anyone. Quarrels there would be and people would also hold grudges against each other (though for the silliest of reasons) but never would anyone of us participate in a physical fight. At times some of us would show tendencies to get involved in a fight but the group used to be there in order to calm him down and talk sense into him.

Now in Delhi, I am still trying to acclimatise myself to the place and its work culture, which I find way different from what people follow in Bengal. I have been meeting locals and trying to know them and their mindset better and I have found a diverse variety of people here in Delhi.

Here I see a truly cosmopolitan environment with people from all parts of India and all walks of life mixed and mingled amazingly but truly speaking, this is where the true beauty of Delhi lies.

I’ll miss Siliguri, no doubts about that. And I’ll miss my friends a lot more as they were the ones who made Siliguri really special for me. And as I leave the least I can say is that although I may reside in Delhi henceforth, but my heart shall always stay in Silla.

Robert Frost expresses my feelings better in his poem “Stopping by woods on a Snowy Evening”

“ The woods are lovely, dark and deep
But I have promises to keep
And miles to go before I sleep
And miles to go before I sleep.”