My Beyond Solitude...

Just as I wished the way it should rain,

After a sultry summer of absurd warmth,

It is raining through my window, in my bed,

Hiding the streetlight, the piercing eyes, the moon...

I could enjoy the sparkling music in my tv, moderns showing them belly buttons,

Or an evening in New York with Rachel,

The African Black Mamba could hypnotize me...

A  kibbeh, chicken schintzel,  carribean cooler should do...

Or I could write a few worthless lines.

It’s just 11:45 P.M.

These days the clocks have ceased to make a sound, still time manages to flow,

A glass of whiskey in my hand,

Alone, blissful solitude, a beautified, adorned solitude,

The mobile sings to it,

Won’t pick it up, today I am a nobody,

Don’t want to know the unknown either...

This glass of whiskey,

 Hanging casually in my chair,

This ceaseless rain outside my window,

Within the absolute silence of the crickets,

In a short frame in space with volume too tiny to measure,

You appear through the closed door...

And you vanish in oblivion...

The pen drops without a clue to my annoyance,

Let it roll, in whichever way it may prefer...

My Mirror Speaks...

                                              Carrying junk is such a bad habit of mine. As I looked in my purse, I found an entry pass to Sindhudurg fort; a calling card of Barati, a Chennai based call taxi company; a train ticket from Belur to Ambika Kalna, travelled on October 2007; a gate pass issued by the hostel superintendent of Narendrapur Ramakrishna Mission; a bus ticket of IIT Madras; a movie ticket, which I went with a friend, whom I lost due to my callousness; a small chit of paper, that consists of a poem written by a very good friend of mine, whom I lost due to my being so callous; two 25 paise coins, which are practically useless now, but kept with utmost care. Well, I am getting to these.

                                              I don’t like Werner Heisenberg & Einstein. It is all because of them, that I could never organise the particles around me.

                I tried to synchronize myself with the reference system. To do that I needed to identify events,which are in harmony. And to measure the simultaneity of events separated in space, one necessarily require involving speed of light. That is absurd!

               And you know, you can never measure the position and momentum of even a tiny electron with accurate precision. How are you then going to do that for your life?

                                               So, I changed the parameters. Instead of momentum, I introduced time. I guess moments, in any set of mind, tend to run away. But as you hate Einstein and his theory of relativity, the concept of time dilation comes very easy to common mind. On certain dilated afternoons, I picked up elements that I shouldn’t have. I remembered to exact precision what the reaction of our other four companions was when my friend recited that poem during a long train journey or the words that the same friend had said while handing me those two 25 paisa coins, which I wish not to spend ever.

                                               Probably by nature we defy change. And I guess elements of life always tend to run away from the point of origin. It is some time now that with blurred precision I remember why I used to love anybody whom I loved. As I now touch the coins, I roughly estimate the value of them on a predetermined perception, lacking heavily the exact knowledge of the feeling I used to have. Initially for a few days, I was so restless knowing what I did let go. But as time slowly soothes down my anxiety and I pause to cherish a puff of smoke and reflect upon my activities that seem insane from today’s perspective, I don’t know whether I always need to tinge the canvas with a droplet of pathos, I do not feel anything. I go to my mirror, gently touch the cold glass. But I do not ask anything. 

(Title is the same of one of my most favorite songs by Death Cab for Cutie)

অসংলগ্ন অবক্ষয়ের গদ্য...

অচিন পাখির সাথে হারিয়ে যাব ভেবে
গোটা  দুপুর জুড়ে
নিজেকে নষ্ট করার ছেলেখেলা করলাম.

হালুম হুলুম বাঘের শব্দে পালিয়ে যাওয়া
দিনগুলিকে উল্টেপাল্টে একপাশে রেখে,
এখন স্বাভাবিকতার গান শুনব ভাবছি.

চারপাশে সবাই ন্যাকা ন্যাকা গল্প লিখে
শেষে এক সুরে গান গায়

এবং শেষমেষ,
'এই জন্যই শালা গোটা দেশটা উচ্ছনে যাচ্ছে '.


এইসব জিলিপির রসে চটচটে হাত মুখ
ধুয়ে ফেলে ফের অনলাইন হওয়া যেতে পারে.
অদৃশ্য-সবুজ-লাল চালাকিতে ক্লান্ত হলে
আবার দিনগত অবক্ষয় খতিয়ে নেবার কথা ভাবা যাবে.

পুরো দিনের নিয়মিত গদ্যের শেষে...
সব অসংলগ্ন ভাবনা ক্রমশ একই পথে সঞ্চারিত হয়.
সমস্ত ক্রমাঙ্কিত ভাবনা কেবল সুচিন্তিত স্বরূপকে বিদ্ধ করে ...

How Cadmus Peverell died!!!

                       Idiosyncrasies of human mind are quite random. I guess every hyper-pseudo intellectual bong carries a part of Bibhutibhuson’s Apu in their heart. And I think it is a very common tendency of general homo sapiens of dreaming absurd. And another more typical fashion is disobeying social barriers and ignoring and trying to go beyond normality. It is always possible to contradict, but, still somehow, I like to see my character depicted largely under the impression of these.

                       As a child, on sultry summer afternoons I dreamt of being on the back of railway wagons, getting lost in unknown regions on my own. A romanticism generated from uncertainty and pathos of life used to fill my heart with complex happiness. A hope of freedom of thought, my free will and consequent possible diversities in life used to lure me.

                       

                        Now that I have finally decided to go easy on alcohol and try doing something substantial, at least something that will amuse me as any of my other frequent whims do and will not kill me anytime sooner, it is quite fascinating how choosy even a troubled human being can be!

                       So, at present time point, like every other insomniac night, on my quest of killing time I took up the resurrection stone to realise time and again how Cadmus Peverell died.

Oh Dear Horatio!!!

Sedated dark nights,

Kept inside a large box,

Under the largest banyan tree in the woods.

And every night I go and silently wait,

We all wait night after night,

It rains and it snows,

And the moss grows beneath all our feet...

And every night I go there and silently weep,

Climb up the damned tree,

Higher and higher...

Strings you can pull as many as you wish,

But oh dear Horatio!!!

Oh my dear Horatio!!!

Fragility,Happy B'day,Non sense-alcohol induced-Morbidity

It will be a horizontal blog... So, be aware of it, the content may be not so adult, but the implication may be so...


It was awaited...the passion, people sitting with you being of same intensity...though alcohol worked on them to the same proportion as in me,it was good.


I am happy,today being my b'day,I am so damn happy...


So, I will write this stupid blog,induced by alcohol,so don't blame me that I suck!!!


But...ssshhhhhhhh!!!!!!! I am way too fragile!!!


And Mittir, sorry darling,being less morbid!!! Nah, That's not gonna happen!!!

My Joker!!!

Dancing dolls,

Painted red in the face...

And it will dance until it bleeds,

And that’s just an improbable hypothesis...

That is such an improbable hypothesis!!!

God help the drama!!!