Sonnet to thy soul..

You travelled the corridors of my soul
When the dead hour struck nightfall
And enfolded the love pining for thee..
In thy silence, that says it all.
You whispered to me thou tales of winter
And hummed the nightingale's song
Within scarlet confines of thy heart
Sheltered me all night long
You held me across the realms of truth
To where moonlight stays by the day
Closed the eyes of the princess within,
And let her dream away..
You kept her from the canopy of pallor, till solitude stormed a clout
And beheld the princess cling to her dreams, till time had run out.

Winters, wreaths and wishes

Christmas yet again, idiosyncratic of good times, zoomed past the city in what seemed like seconds. And it has been yet another day to etch somewhere in between the countless memories that'll make me love this life for ages. I must admit, that it started as a nightmare..and ended with an unpredictably delightful climax, the details of which I do not wish to give out in my blog. But amidst everything, the high point of the yuletide celebrations had to be the coveted surprise gift I received, that absolutely made my day.

Winter is back with its colours to the city's nest, which rested on me as another excuse to coax mom to get me a long woollen overcoat in blue. Strangely enough, for the last couple of years, I find myself getting obsessively smitten by cardigans, or winterwear in that case, to be loaded with literally dozens of them in a few year's hence. And I do not wish to see any prospective vent for overcoming this obsession, living in a city where one can literally make the most of this spell. I've always believed Calcutta to be one of the cities, globally, to enjoy the most beautiful examples of winter season..way better than the Delhi chill that leaves one shrouded under comical monkey caps, or the hints of a winter season in Bombay that can make woollen pullovers a matter of shame. But apart from the season itself, the other snippets of celebrations that completed my day had to be me, trying a hand at origami, making paper wreaths from my grandmother's Christmas editions of origami books. And lastly, I loved myself hugely in the Santa look and was utterly mesmerised by Paulo's Angels.

p.s.:- Hope everyone had a great Christmas..with sincere wishes of having more of good times ahead.

Growth pangs..and Christmas eve

Exams finally got over after what seemed like eternity. And being truest to my ownself, they failed to meet up to the expections concerning them at any length. Probably that's what kept me from blogging, till almost a week after our fifth semester concluded with itself...that feeling of atonement, inevitable after shrouding a well "dreamt" career, literally for long, under layers of negligence. And amidst amends, I can't wait for this dreadful year to come to an end. No words minced, 2009 made me see through the worst of times, if 'worst' is indeed the superlative term for something so despicable. And its because of a handful of pleasurable phases woven in between this otherwise-horrible-nightmare of 365 days, that made me survive so close to its end. As of now, snippets of Christmas, and whiff of a new year hanging loose in the air, is one of such phases which'll possibly help me make it to yet another week, till the year finally ends.

Its Christmas eve today, and this time, it has been different. I've always refused to believe that anything in this world can match the nostalgia connecting me with my city more than the one encircling Durga Puja. And I can literally go on and on regarding how deadly the feeling can be, to stay away from home during the festive autumn season. Winter, probably, has never been famous for festivities, which literally, comes coupled with idol worship, has it? Its probably a period when people do not dread going out in the Sun lest they might end up within an envelope of sweat. And of course when a New year is imminent, that makes you amnesiac of all the shits life has thrown upon in the year just-spent, letting you see the most of hope and optimism for unfathomable reasons. But, somehow or else, I happened to get nostalgic today. Unexpectedly enough, I found myself missing the days I pined to visit the Park Street of Christmas..the Park Street which lost its vigour somewhere between the tiring miles walked towards college. Or the nights I hung socks in the window, filling them with anticipations and infantile enthusiasm. For some reason, I couldn't help requesting dad today to keep a surprise waiting for me in the window when I wake up this Christmas, followed by earnest persuasions to get atleast something..maybe even a Santa cap..disguised as a surprise. Sadly enough, nothing of that kind happened, and I was nonchalantly handed over a fruit cake on Christmas eve itself, with a sermon that I should try growing up someday. Growing up, well then, possibly happens this way. Its about the processes that robs you of your abilities to wish crazy or letting nostalgia get the better of you. Somewhere deep down, I sincerely wish to voice my hatred against the science behind ageing some other morning, not today. And all the more, yearn to live a grown-up life sometime hence, only to come reversibly back to my normal self. Till then, its Christmas time yet again, and I had to buy a Santa cap for a whopping 45 bucks to satiate myself.

P.S.:- This, for sure, is a lousy post..but somehow couldn't help writing down the same.Merry Christmas to everyone out there.

November Rain..

Its seemingly feeling like decades after I had last tended to my blog. Perhaps exams do this to oneself..that I kept coming on and off the 'line' for the past one-and-a-half months only to rummage fruitlessly through some social networking sites, scribbling nonsense that led me nowhere. And tried keeping up the best of my efforts to hope to be back again on some fine morning at my literary best. Somewhere down the line, I wonder, whether I really should have taken up microbio in graduation. Or science in the first place. For nothing can be more excruciating than the attempt to comprehend how hard your T-lymphocytes and B-lymphocytes work in order to protect you from the big bad world, with two lines of poetry crossing you every now and then, that has just stumbled upon your mind. In the meanwhile, my monitor went dysfunc. and the entire system had to be transplanted with a second hand cousin, bearing innumerable scratches and fingerprints on its facade, which was enough to strain my eyes from having a view of whatever I'm scribbling down. But its comforting to be back on a writing spree..and I definitely refuse to put my pens down.

There has been some relief of late on the academic front. After shouting endlessly (behind closed doors) at the irresponsible stance of the college authorities to have scheduled an honours exam on the day of a BJP strike, and implore them politely with abundant reasons, our fifth semester exams have finally been postponed for half-a-month. And that was more of a success than what the BJP themselves can achieve through their strike..though I seriously doubt how effective this extended spell would be on our analogous lazy minds and what degree of futility will these silent demonstrations and noisy pleadings amount to, for the reverse doesn't work in Xaviers. But still, as of now, the thought of exams are a tad bit relieving. Rather, life seems worth re-living now.

Winter perhaps, after their long break-up spell of two years, has decided to settle its differences with Calcutta. Last Dec-Jan months had barely been a trailer of what Calcutta is like without men sweating profusely. The rise in humidity post Diwali is somehow endurable..for I had learnt of something called 'October heat' in class five geography books. But any justification behind January heat, I bet, can even put geography to shame. But this time around, winter, it seems, is here to stay..thanks to a few unexpected spells of November rain.

College life is nearing a dead end. Way more dead, since the next avenues are still under heavy mist cover, hesistant enough to go open. Wish its not what we've spent three years hearing to..the pride in declaring that there's "Nothing beyond". Cheer Nihil Ultra, anyone? Finally, making ourselves believe that we have literally concluded with five semesters out of six is something to wonder about and ponder upon.

Today, its one of the most special days of my life, if not the most..Only that it hurts to be alone on a day like this. Its we who made it special, and its us to whom it is. And hence, its all the more painful to celebrate such a day with exams intersecting the back of my mind every second. This blog was an effort to celebrate the day in my own petite way..owing the present joyous state of my mind to the little pleasantries that has been trickling onto my life now and then. And to reach out to you miles away with a share of the feeling that is destined to remain the same..

"When I look into your eyes, I can see a love restrained

But darlin' when I hold you, Don't you know I feel the same?

'Cause nothin' lasts forever..And we both know hearts can change

And it's hard to hold a candle

In the cold November rain.."

The Way She Looked That Night...

I bet its the last day that the Mother looks her best..with a vermillion smear adorning her face. And she seems to make every other woman acquire a fraction of that beauty she defines. Just like I've always wished to look exactly a copycat of the way my mother looks on every Dashami evening. The beat effusing from the dhaak on this day, I feel, seems the most elusive and irresistible, slipping out from everyone's reach in the blink of an eye and engulfing the festive spirit alike quicksand. The last few hours of the festival seems to pass over in no time. And its when you pointlessly argue with yourself that it would certainly have been better had the Pujas arrived a little late. Its always a sulk that the fervour is finally over and I'm really getting short of words and rhyme and thoughts to write something that'd be somewhat a pleasure. Seeking a vent, its imperative to walk the optimistic way..that we are surely getting nearer to the festivities awaiting in the forthcoming year.

P.S.:- Subho Bijoya to everyone out there. Hope all of you had a great puja.

She...

And this time the wait has presumably been the longest for me. There is a certain unnamed aroma I've always linked with Her. Probably its the product of sweets and incense, flowers and clay..but I've always called it 'Her' smell, which floats around since days before Her actual arrival playing the messenger bird of the homecoming. That idiosyncratic smell of Her arrival has never left to enchant any of my fractions, but this time it seemed all too irresistible. Too heavy a feeling to carry around. And now that She's here, that She's finally perceivable from my balcony, it seems all too surreal..to perceive, to smell, or to reach out for a touch.

This is seemingly the last Durga Puja of my 20 year stay in Kolkata. And next year around this time I'll probably be missing classes to stay near home, near Her. But what I'll really miss is the countdown to the festival..the moment since when monsoon starts drifting away giving way to cottony clouds..when a clayey aroma wanders between us, implying that She's on Her way..and the mushrooming shopping destinations which go berserk with their offers. I'll miss the framing of the pandals at almost every corner, which first bring about Her smell..and Her arrival at midnight amidst some euphoric dhaker baddi, when on such an event, once a kid told me.."Didi, Dugga Puja eshe galo!"These will always frame the bits and pieces of my life that can never be shrouded under ignorance or oblivion, irrespective of how much tears they bring about. And there'll always be some little things like the occassional dhaker baddi and vibrant dhunuchi naach, whose mere thought will convey the smell of my city to whichever corner I am. Leaving apart all the political and economic changes that it imperatively requires, I'd really wish to stay alive to see Kolkata exactly this way during the Durga Puja ever and forever down the millennia. And seek that ethereal smell through and through my marrows that plays with me so often, and that, which has and always will help me to keep myself spirited, effevescent and alive.

When Imaginations fly...

When the day sets afar with the Sun
The queen of evenings peeps through her veil..
Alike the bride blushing scarlet,
As she dissolves in her new found delight
All that’s dreary and withers away..
All that was gloom till last night.

And someone alights a blown out candle
Renewing the vigour of a new dusk in life
Along the horizon where thoughts cease to wane..
Across the courtyard where dreams shimmer bright..

When grief conquers the course of life,
And the sun adieus with a tear and a sigh
When despair gathers murk too dense
To behold the zenith of the twilight..
Someone stretches a hand through the mist
Someone, who is nowhere in sight..

Somewhere the mind trails a wrong way
Somethings make it falter to sway
Somewhere the mind faces its end
Someone it seeks as its only friend..

Times when solitude throttles every might
Deserting behind with multitudes of plight,
The kiss of a breeze whispers it all
That beyond here there’s nowhere to fall..
From where the sky gathers all its white
And hopes fly high and free as a kite.