Wandering scribbler..

One of the many things that I miss the most about not having Dadi around is, whenever we left for school,my father to his office in the morning. I used to say "Dadi jachi" (Dadi I am going) to which she would scold me lovingly and say "jachi bolte hoyna bolo ami ashchi"(You shouldn't say you are going, say I am going, to come back) and then she used to fold her hands and say " Dugga Dugga ".  I would always purposely make this mistake of saying "ami jachi" almost every day so that she would correct me affectionately. I would ask her to say "Dugga dugga" again and again for extra protection and sometimes I would imitate her saying Dugga Dugga myself. But whenever she said that I would feel safe inside, such that all the obstacles and problems on the way are cleared.  Now nobody says Dugga Dugga when I leave home but when I look at her picture smiling at me before I leave, I can feel it somewhere inside me a faint but vivid soun

What is it about unattainable men that attracts us to them? Why do women almost always fall for men who they can't have? That unkept beard, that careless smile and eyes like the lake shinning in the moonlight! Huhh! That's my kind of 'Mr Impossible' but I am sure most women will have their own 'Mr Impossible' in mind!(There isn't any dearth of careless cute guys oblivious to the trouble they cause to our poor hearts!)  Anyone at any stage of their lives can have a crush! As I always tell my friends its never too late to have a little bit of flutter in your stomach. Maybe it will make you love and pay attention to yourself a little more.  Has someone ever made you so nervous that you eat your words and forget to eat the food in front of you?  When your crushing on someone you remember their each and every word and gesture.  Every time your eyes meet your heart skips a beat. And you wonder if they're feeling the same.    You stalk them on all possib

I have reached a point where I have a lot of thoughts and words in my mind but none of them end up turning into a complete blogpost. Perhaps I have lost the patience to sit and complete a post or maybe I've become lazier than I was before. But whatever it is I am here now in front of my laptop to write something which I hope will make up for the long break I took from blogging. As they say Pujo is a state of mind for the people of Bengal. Pujo is not only a religious occasion for the intellectual, communist state of ours but it is a thought where faith meets art, craftsmanship, imagination and creation. Pujo Pandals in Kolkata are made not only for the sole purpose of worshipping the goddess but every year they come up with a new theme to suit the taste of the average finicky Bengali!   Durga Pujo in Kolkata is not a festival but a 4 day long celebration where the whole city gathers together like a big family to welcome the Goddess. People buy and gift new clothes for the 4 day

Kabhi kisiko dekhkar yun laga hai ke jaise har khwahish ne ek insan ka livaas pehen lia ho. Ke jaise tum kaho aur yun lage ke humare naseeb par khuda ka kuch rehem hua hai. Fir tumhari bhuri ankho mei apne har sach aur jhoot ko dekhliya Na chehra samjha, na roop, na rang bus dekhaa usko aise ki jaise koi insan aisa na dekha ho.. Kabhi kisiko dekha itna roshan itna khoobsurat ke jaise raat mei taro se bhara asman Kabhi kisiko dekhkar yun laga ke bus yahi hai jiske liye zindagi abtak dheeme se chal rahi thi aur ab usko raftar milgayi. Kabhi kisiko dekhkar yun laga ke jaise har manzil usse shuru hoti hai aur usi par khatam hoti hai Ke jaise maut bhi ajae toh usi ka chehra liye ayegi, aur usi ka naam har marz ki dava hogi.. Kabhi kisiko dekhkar yun laga?

I've cried for you in unknown places, famous infamous lanes, in huge monuments and snazzy malls in front of staring people and when you forced me to pose for photographs. Ones that I may never look back on. I've cried for you when you hurled expletives about me and my parents, demeaning every bit of my existence by scraps and chunks not knowing that the damage is permanent. I've cried for you we you left me alone in an alien city and ran away , and watched me find you like a lost child. I've cried when I realized that all this was just a game. I've cried for you often and sometimes clutching pieces of my broken heart which you thoughtfully tore into pieces. I've cried for you in dark lanes and bright corners abstracted by thoughts drenched in the blood of my dying love. I've cried for you when I realized that no one but you knows I am here now. And that you know, I've got no one to run to. I've cried for you when you've shaken me to bits b

I have dreams the ones that scare me, The ones that engulf me And make me a prisoner they won't set free. The walls come closing in on me. And a sinking feeling tells me, the new dawn I won't live to see. And I just wonder what should I spend this last breath on? Which words are worthy of the last moments, Should I tell you the words you're waiting to hear. Or should I say nothing at all. Dreams the ones I can never compose in verses dreams of a fire burning so bright that it pierces the eyes Dreams of a blinding undaunted ray of light i have dreams that you are moving out of sight.. But dreams are not black or white Dreams that make me all sweaty and restless I wake up and wonder what a show! Because you cant die in dreams you know Dreams that wake you up to chase to other dreams! Those are the dreams I always receive.

I suffocate at poetry. Loving you made me write poems and now there is just silence.

 Tum marksheet ke anko mei ho Ya dosto k ठट्ठे में हो Maazi ki yaado me ho Ya bhavishya ke sapno mei ho Prativadi morche mei ho Ya saal bharke kharche mei ho Gita, bible, quran mei ho Ya sache prem ki uran mei ho Raste ke bhuke bacho mei ho Ya rangin husn mei doobi mehfilo mei ho Bus aur train ke dhakke khate safar mei ho Ya roz ke kaam ki naakaami bhari thakawat mei ho Zindagi ke chote mote parajay mei ho Ya nirasha bhari khamoshi mei ho Tum hindu muslim isayi mei ho ya unke khoon ke pyaase atankwaadi mei ho Safed mei ho ya saanvle mei ho Ya unke beech ke gaade bhure mei ho Tum zameen mei ho ya aasmaan mei ho Ya chote 1 kamre mei basayi grihasthi mei ho Taaze khoon ke rang mei ho ya abhi bahayi huyi asthi mei ho Tum kis kis ki baato mei ho? Tum ansu ki boond mei ho Tum khud ki khoj mei ho Tum khud ki soch mei ho Tum aj aur kal mei ho Tum aadi ho aur anth mei ho

The third continuation of the fictional story : The beast called father. This is the 1st and 2nd chapter: 1st -  http://memoriesinrain.blogspot.in/2015/02/beast-called-father.html 2nd  -  http://memoriesinrain.blogspot.in/2015/02/amma-and-her-peacock-blue-sari.html Why does amma suffer so much? why can't she leave the beast?  Everyone in school has a father, who takes them to zoos and amusement parks. He tells them stories and brings gifts for them on their birthday. Why can't he have all that? He dint want to tell amma all this and hurt her, he looked up to the sky and wondered. The clouds were the only one he could trust.  The summer holidays were going on, he spent most of the time on the terrace. Amma used to get irritated by his behaviour sometimes, when he got late for lunch or breakfast. She never understood what he did the whole day on the terrace. Bablu the boy in the next house often came on his terrace to fly kites. Biplob hated Bablu who often asked hi

"Did you do the maths assignment?" Biplob asked Prakash who was sitting beside him in the school bus, chewing on a packet of salted peanuts.  "Yes i did 8 of them, Appa did the rest." he laughed. "Ohh.."  Biplob looked out of the window as the bus stopped at a traffic signal. A Maruti Esteem stopped near the bus.  Biplob looked with disbelief his face stuck to the window, he couldn't believe his eyes. It was their car.  H e saw his father in the back seat of their black Maruti Esteem with a woman. She looked pretty, her face was glowing, she was thinner than amma. His father's had one hand on her shoulder. He looked different with her than he looked at home Biplob thought.. ------ He got home that day after school to find amma wearing her favourite peacock blue sari and silver bangles, combing her waist long hair. He wanted to tell her about what he saw on his way to school today. "Amma where are you going?" "Baba is t

He was sleeping in amma's lap when he heard a stamping sound from outside, he adjusted slightly covering his head with the end of amma's sari. Suddenly the loud sound of someone banging the door woke him up, amma got up to open the door. He knew who it was he held the end of his mother's sari tightly as if asking her not to leave. She turned towards him and slowly freed it from his clutched wrist and touched his forehead asking him to sleep. He sat on the end of the bed looking at an ant scurrying away in his red floored room, his feet hanging down. "You wretched woman, what took you so long"  "Please speak softly Biplob is awake" she pleaded. "You bitch how dare you speak to me like this..I will break your face if you say that to me again" he shouted and threw his shoes across the room "Please don't say such words Biplob is growing up now", she said picking up the shoe which fell near her. "You will not understand l

I had written a post titled Hokkolorob , i would like to inform all of you that : Justice was done. The VC (now ex)  of Jadavpur University was removed.  ( On  September 17th the peacefully protesting students were brutally assaulted both by police and the local goons on the orders of their respected VC. Women protesting there were assaulted and molested. 40 students had to be hospitalized, and 38 were arrested! ) And as Kolkata raised its voice in Kolorob it showed us all that we're not all apathetic, we too can unitedly raise our voice for a cause. Anyway I'm gradually becoming this unapologetic, careless, forgetful person.! Yes this is my excuse for not updating my now dead blog! So readers(I wonder if there are any left?) this is a sincere apology from the bottom of my dark demented heart for not writing anything. Well! the year that just passed was one helluva year and praise the lord i got out of it very much alive and kicking! We've got home a bratty li