An Odyssey

If you had been here now,

You would have seen a cat

Sitting quietly in a corner of the street;

And listened to the duet of the silent night,

And the chirping bird,

Who forgot what night and day mean.

Had you been here

You would have felt the breeze,

As it would have cooled your sun warmed cheeks,

The starry night would have smiled down

And told you, why

Van Gogh loved her more than the sun’s streaks.

You might have enjoyed walking

The solitary road,

Loneliness wouldn't have touched you still;

Your own slow stride would have ruled the path,

And the race of man

Wouldn’t have trampled your prints.

As you would have made your way

With the living around you,

Safe in their beds, sleep oozing from their doors,

You might have had noticed,

A dreamless window,

Sighs clogging its every pore.

Had you looked there,

You would have found a soul,

Detached, yet forlorn;

A silent audience of the night

Lurking in shadows,

Torn.

Would you have looked closely

To find the secret?

Would you have waited to investigate?

The beauty of night is a cruel seductress,

Would you have delayed

Just a bit?

As the unknown entwines with magic,

And the breeze blows coolly

Pulling you,

Would you have walked, not looking back,

Or would you knock the door,

To make someone’s dream come true?

In Furious Memoriam

The one frozen moment when that beautiful white hot rage fills you up perfectly, and the supreme powerful being in this universe manifests itself through you; when a slight gesture of that almighty entity is enough to infest a destruction so huge, recovery seems wretched and unrealistic : What would you do when you get that power of the gods? Would you strike thunder, laugh at the shock of your victim? Or would you be the wise owl, and smile at your opponent’s perplexed face when no retaliation occurs?

Anger is a drug, and the release of this rage is probably the greatest consummation of human emotions. The moment the monstrous hold lets go and you escape in to that selfish joy of being victorious over your petty adversary, is simply intoxicating. But just that, it's just for that miniscule of moment, not a bit more. As the haze of white clears, red diminishes and all the colours surface again, you realize you just bought yourself a one-way ticket to your own personal pit of inferno. You may pretend otherwise, but it is inescapable, at least in the privacy of your closed doors. And you end up wondering, was it all worth it?

Now I am no moralist. I am a staunch believer of convenience, and pity doesn’t really take us anywhere. I have had my share of anger, and what I see from all those white bright sparks of wrath, I understand why hell doesn’t have an owl. I fought with someone, and the next day I had to fix my broken phone; another time I had to buy my own dinner. Once I couldn’t talk for three days as my throat had gone sore from all that shouting, and then there was also that time when I had to miss my favourite show because intoxication always leaves a bad taste with a hangover. So, I sold my anger for patience, and though I can’t say it easy, but at least I don’t have to think about making my own dinner or miss my shows. Let's face it, anger isn't all that "hot", and peace is oh-so-good!

Thus, this isn't me, lecturing about anger management. It’s just me telling, dude it's just not worth it. If you want to feel powerful, shout in a rock concert or may try breaking a wall. That might teach you something (like common sense, or get you a record deal or may be you would turn out to be Superman or Hulk. Go figure!).

Cheers..! :)

p.s I was really pissed a while back. But I managed and saved my lunch, wrote this amazing sh*t and now grooving with Lil Wayne :D

p.p.s I hope the Garfield pic isn't copyright infringement.

No Miracles Here

Now, this is not a funny story, how much it may though seem to be. So promise that you won’t laugh. (you didn’t, I know, let’s try that again, Don’t LAUGH). Here goes..

A few months back, one very late August morning, I was on my bed, doing what I do best, sleeping. By the time my dream paradise kicked me out and I pried my eyes open, I realized I was late for college. Now this isn’t new, nothing to be jumpy about. But remember those days, those days of the “last-chance-for-the-last-date-for-the-already-late-submission-of-the-very-late-and-very-badly-done-project” ? Well, that was one of those days. So simply said, I ran. Didn’t bother changing or brushing ( and food? what’s food?). As I ran towards the bus stand, popping tick tacks on my mouth, I braked to a sudden stop (SCreeEECh). Where the hell is my project? I ran back home, keys fell from my hands twice, I somehow managed to break into my house, take the file and run again.

I couldn’t wait for the bus, (Kolkata traffic I tell you, mind blowing, you really wish you had something to blow your mind). So I cursed a bit and hailed a cab. Reminding sacred old-school conscience how urbane and techie I am, I took out my phone to check how late was I, and as I tried repeatedly to unlock it, light up the screen, pressing all the buttons, sweet realization : my battery was dead. Well, no worries, what are taxi drivers for? I enquired and found out that I was late, but guessed not late enough ( late enough = professor leaving building).

Now it WAS a miracle that there wasn’t much traffic, and I reached college just under 20 minutes. Thanking the taxi wala profusely, and cursing under my breath for the fares, I checked my bag and realized I had just 20 rupees with me; the meter read 60, the cab wala asked 70. (Come on! I didn’t PLAN to sleep late, you really can’t blame me) But hey! What college folks are for right? Nothing. Exactly that. No class mates around, no helpful seniors feeling remotely helpful, and those who had a nagging conscience had an even better “prompt-excuse-to-the-rescue-search-engine”. But it was the day when I had (at that moment) vowed to make things right. I begged the gatekeeper, gave him my id card as safety deposit (…), and got saved from being kidnapped by the taxi driver (he had scary eyes.. uughh).

Marathon run again. Tracker on, search professor. *beep* *beep* *bee..ee.e..p* And... no prof on sight. I took out my mobile to check the time, just to put it back in the jeans again. Now this is the sad part. I felt, lost. I felt, well the word I would have liked to use was Scr#@*D, but more than that, I felt broken. For weeks I had toiled for that file to complete; for those 20 pages I had to read some 60 books and browse through 2000 websites. For that file I had to forget about everything, even that darned break up pangs which kept me from even swallowing a morsel, gave me nightmares, and made me wander aimlessly for hours on my freaking roof.  Damn you professor! why couldn’t you wait, I was worth it, the file was worth it; why did life have to be so unfair, why did I have to get my heart broken, why did I have to cry and tear my hair for that pathetic idjit moron, who couldn’t use his (non functioning and useless) head properly...

I slumped on the floor, and couldn’t stop the few tears from flowing down. I felt tired, and sad, for me. I opened my eyes and saw my best friend looking down at me. She smiled her famous all knowing smile, gave me her hand, helped me up, and said “Madam’s in the conference room, I asked her to wait up.”

I don’t know much about Jesus or Rama or Krishna, but I am very sure, without Peter or Hanuman or Arjuna, they would have had been in pretty bad shapes. Clichéd I know, but what the heck! Cheers for the best friends. When u have them, who needs miracles?

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A Bit about Love

It's a quiet lazy afternoon. The rains have stopped. Old jazz in the player. As the saxophone croons along, I think about feeling alone and left out. I think about the heartbreaks and the tears, some memories made and the moments destroyed ...

...  A view from the Ganga ghat, a lone figure looking at the other side, trying to find a company in his isolation, but it is getting dark and there is almost zero visibility. The jet zooms through in the late twilight sky, leaving behind a trail of condensed air. The crickets start their nightly orchestra, and the homeward bound birds chorus to the beat. Everyone leaves once the day ends, but the night brings some one different. Nothing is ever left alone. As the waters of the river lap the shores of both banks, a silhouette walks slowly by on the other side, stops, picks up a stone and throws it as hard as she could in the water. As the stone skims through almost half the way and finally sinks in, sending ripples around, the guy in the other side wonders what caused it.

As he turns back for home, his ipod and he hums along with Louis Armstrong, and he wonders about the rippling water, and vaguely wishes that there was enough light...

The night hugs the earth, the birds sleep for the night, the lil’ ones cozy in their mothers embrace. Somewhere an owl hoots, and keeps on hooting, and hooting..

…Oh wait, no.. It’s my mobile ringing. I pick up the call, its you. I smile as I listen about your interview. Thank God you understood who made the ripples.

Tempestuous clouds, bid me farewell

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A Winter Memory

"If you miss the train I am on

You will know that I am gone…"

Everywhere you look you see mufflers and sweaters, and scarves with pretty patterns, caps and shawls, walking by; talking, arguing, laughing. Notice a black jacket and a grey sweater walking together..

The evening was really cold. As people in mufflers and sweaters huddled past, a couple made way towards the ice cream shop near the train station. While the girl was busy with her ice cream stick, and the guy enjoyed his cold drink, an announcement was made from the station; the train they were supposed to be on, was leaving. “They are early!” she yelled, as she checked the time on her mobile phone “Doesn’t matter” he said, and finished his drink in two big gulps, and ran towards the ticket counter. The girl, managing her ice cream, followed him.

A few seconds, and they were running towards the stairs, the guy taking two or three steps at a time, the girl, trying (well, more likely lumbering) to keep up. Once on the bridge, they saw the train had started to move. “We are not going to make it”, exasperated guy. “Come on”, laughing girl. Again, the guy jumping two three steps at a time, the girl (you know it) trying to keep up. By the time they reached the platform, the train had gained more speed. They guy looked worried, but the girl laughed and hopped on one of the approaching compartments. The guy followed. People inside the compartment shouted, as she jumped inside, but she had no ears for them, her eyes were for the person in front of her. “What a rush!” She laughed like crazy and slumped on a seat. The guy trying to fan her with his ticket, sat beside her, smiling. She held his hand, tight, and put her head on his shoulder. He looked at her and she kissed him.

The journey was long, and thank God they caught the train.

In nothingness, we unite

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(Yawn) I Made Soup

Cold winter evenings. Correction, cold rainy winter evenings. Hungry, frozen, lazy and very bored. Nothing to do, no one to call or to meet, even Mary took away my little lamb. Trudging towards the shelf, I again thank the inventor of the mix-it-all-up soups. I finish stirring the ingredients of the packet in the boiling water, and pour all of it in a big bowl. There are some lumps still, but who cares. I take it to my bed and (sh@%), my bed's turned cold. Then I realize how hot my soup is. With a silent thanks to the physics of nature, I put the bowl on the bed, and after a few moments, take the bowl on my lap and sit on the very spot. Its not much, but warm enough. 

As I try my hand at a doodle, epiphany yawns : Laziness is definitely the mother of all inventions.

Lazy rainy winter evening, warm-ish bed, n mix-it-all-up soup. Sweet heaven. Slurp!

A Fresh Taste

Welcome New Year, along with a new cook. Presenting ME, a certified cuisine chef (confirmed and licensed by my mother, of course). I have, successfully, been able to prepare, dinner along with desert, with no help whatsoever, AND I have managed to do so without vandalizing the kitchen nor flooding it. Ergo, I am finally a grown up. (Applause)

So, here’s presenting my first chef-d'oeuvre, my masterpiece, two grilled pizzas - one topped with egg, and a strawberry custard. (Yaaeee, applause again).

Wish you all a good year ahead. Happy Eating!! :) :) 

(Random thought, no.54 : As I struggle with the piece of cheese stuck between my teeth, I  think about the stochastic cosmic alignments of the god forsaken planets, running after each other and getting barbequed by the sun, with their little alieny rulers, jumping here and there, looking at us with their big green binoculars, and getting turned on by some cow mooing in some green dung stinking field. Hmm..)