Fruit and nut

I remember that when I came to Chennai to pursue my post graduation, I had written in a blog entry that blogging would be a luxury from then onwards. Now i am afraid it is time that I revisit the emotion. Though it sounds fancy, but its a fact that I have little time at my disposition to pursue my leisurely activities. So blog entries could be scarce now. Sometimes when I am in the midst of paraphrasing the latest comments of arun jaitley on the 2G spectrum allocation 'scam' into TV language, my mind wanders off into portals which supplies me with rich content for a prospective blog entry. But alas, the call of duty and the overseeing CCTVs forbid me to translate my passion into practice and by the time I reach home late way after midnight, my mind becomes numb, insusceptible to any ideas or drive.

The princeton dictionary defines 'testimonial' as 'something that serves as an evidence'. Well, so the 10-odd testimonials that I have received in my orkut account is meant to be evidences for me, if somebody questions my integrity and suspects the nobleness of my mind. But hasnt it already been questioned and suspected and reached to a conclusion by some people who had once written me testimonials? This is just an ounce of the reason why I shrugged off a couple of them a few minutes ago. The other reason is far more important for me.

social networking sites are a good invention. people have less time now and they want to display their daily trapping and achievements in the form of messages, taglines, pictures, videos etc on such sites. So when I see a photograph of a lonely girl sitting on a cliff silhouetted by the evening sky in ranjeeta's profile, i ascertain that she is missing home. When I see sayan's profile name changed to 'Salman Khan rocks' I conclude that he must be one of the lucky ones to have seen the my hero in city centre mall in Kolkata a couple of days back. or when i see simantini uploading her album with photographs of her friends from C.U, I understand the joviality that was showered on them during her riend's birthday bash. I can cite numerous egs like these. I feel good when I scan through the recent updates of my friends section. smiling pictures greet me. sad taglines worries me. a shocking revelation conjures up in my mind, the different possible reasons for it. But nevertheless, it feels refreshing. Although I havent ventured into any other social networking sites like facebook and twitter other than orkut (I feel that they would be a little confusing for me).

I am reading Jhumpa lahiri's 'Interpretation of maladies' right now. And I have stumbled upon the fact that every Bengali word can have a corresponding english word to it. The style is impeccable and the flow very simple and gripping. 'Mrs Sen's' is a personal favourite. I am not so much exposed to good literature and there have been very few stories that have brought tears to my eyes. Mrs sen's is one of them. As I could not control my tears at the rear seat of my cab when Mrs sen wept yesterday, I felt miserable. This happens with me sometimes. That is why I feel horrified to read rabindranath, to watch a sad foreign film. I stil cant erase the depression that i had developed after consuming the impressions from 'pikur diary', 'the seventh seal', 'bicycle thief', 'pather panchali'. I dont want to dwell in the domain of music, whose reactions on me are even more difficult to veer my mind from. But I do have complains. I didnt like the ending of 'mrs sen's'.

The amusing melancholia

Aami majhe majhe bhaabi je...

Na ! bhebe ki laabh?

A nip in the air
A slash in the heart
A lump in the throat

I miss you honey...

The Sand and the Sea( Baali aar aami)

Numb, I go
Drenched by the showers of unscrupulous ignominy
Pins and needles
A fit, a rupture
A rupture of cold, gray gloom
Blanketed by some more of it
Entering my soul and paralyzing it

Words stop short
The futility the pain the introspection
The introspection I ignore
For I am a lost soul
Unable to understand myself
Choosing not to
For It knows me. know not me myself

So I live I survive
Amidst the bludgerings and protect my castle
Groping at the sand
Wet by the unceasing and shrewd stream
Propping it up. Admiring it
Only to witness it washed away…again

Only my existence remains as my inspiration


(Obosh ami
Bhije bhije lojjate te, shey paaena lojja
Gaae kaanta
Mrigi fetey fetey beroe
Fetey beroe konkone, kaalo megh
Aar arektu
Shey khuchie dhoke aamar bukey
Aabar obosh

Kotha gulo theme jaae
Haal chhere di koshto te bhetore takaai
Taakieo takaaina
Aami je akta haraano sur
Bujhina nijeke Ma
Chaiona
Kanona Shey chene (taar chenai aashol)

Taai aami thaki aami baachi
Aakromon er maajhe aamar rajprasad taakey aagliye
Baali gulo mutho kore
Bheja baali, joley bheja chalak jok
Aastei thaakey
Durgo baanai Durga
Bhenge jetey dekhi taarpor…aabar

Aamar aami aamar dorpon)