Happily ever after is so once upon a time...

"Sweet heart, do not love too long: I loved long and long, and grew out of fashion like an old song." Yeats shaheb

There's nothing half as expressly disinterested, blatantly bored and insultingly emotionless as that mindlessly onomatopoeic 'LOL'. Even 'Hahahahaha' shows you cared enough to laugh. And if you didnt find it funny, dont bother to 'LOL', please!

May 9, 2011

Calcuttans:Pls b so gracious as 2 remember that the footpath is not after all a ramp where u sashay down with your arm-candy(ies) at the slowest-mo possible taking 'show-stopper' to ridiculously literal levels.For us lesser mortals who need 2 get somewhere,ideally on time,this can be,just a wee bit problematic,u see.And in this sweltering heat,we could,I think,just about get by without that xtra bit of ramp-scorching

May 12, 2011

There's no word more convenient, more elusive, more explanatory, more reassuring and more confusing than 'emni'. Translated roughly:Just-like-that.

July 25, 2011

Parar je goli tay aalo taman teebro noy, du-ekta cycle chhara gaari-taari-o beshi jay na, badminton er net tangiye khelar prostuti cholchhilo dekhlam; full shirt er haata khanik gotano dekhe mone holo eder keu keu office ferta pothe CCD te girlfriend er sathe 'appo' korar cheye akhana khelte beshi bhalobashe. Sheeter Kolkata. Bhaggyish kichhu janish paltay na

Nov 14, 2011

The other day, our grandfather who is 90+ was recounting his days as a young boy in Bangladesh and taking us through the various reasons why he and his family had to leave. He told us stories of some of his dearest friends who became so, irrespective of their religion. 'Why then do you think a new nation was carved out for them?' Sourya asked him. 'All because of Jinnah', Dadu said with unflinching wrath. I once thought I'd intercept the discussion and dole out all the theories I had learnt from my books and temper out the rather sharp reaction. But then, I thought, who am I to 'correct' an opinion - one that has been shaped, not from notes and footnotes, but from lived experience...I kept quiet. Long live the tradition of oral narratives. And their narrators.

Half-Yearly Progress Report:

At the stroke of this ungodly hour, when the world sleeps, I woke up to a realisation: The realisation that it had been six whole months since I'd been waking up and sleeping on a bed - in a room - in a house - which is not all-mine. Since sharing private physical spaces has always been a bit of an issue with me, I didn't think it possible - or easy, at any rate - to sail through a half of a year with another person, whose habits of existence, in spite of all the love I feel for him, were almost entirely unknown to me, except for in snatches!

Surprisingly however, it is in these six months that I've had my real (and embarrassingly late) foray into adulthood - as I've learnt to be responsible not just for my own self, but of another human being, in every possible sense - material and otherwise. I've learnt to get accustomed to stubbing cigarette butts on floors or window sills when ashtrays get locked in the fridge; to know that shampoo bottles need not "necessarily" be capped after use; that he may legitimately scream out 'Foul Foul!' in his dreams, flailing the limbs around, while remaining blissfully oblivious to the fact that 'yours truly' may have toppled over on the floor; that it's okay for me to oil my hair and tie it in an unattractive bun before going to sleep, not worrying if the sight or smell might make him cringe; to be able to fall asleep comfortably even as the light stays on as he writes; to still be able to read on rainy afternoons knowing he'll take care of the laundry; to learn to sacrifice my favourite tee in the greater cause of mopping the vomit of drunken friends.

Bottomline (At the risk of saccharine extolling or hurting delicately radical sensibilities): I have a boy room-mate who's taken away my fear of sharing spaces and sharing lives in all their unrefined and crude glories; teaching me instead, that freedom is being able to decide if you want to be bound. I feel free, yes. So...Thank You, Sourya...?