Loneliness overpowers me sometimes...Though I desperately stick on to my facade of "oh me so happy" "oh me so fun" "me the extrovert" but still sometimes my lonely self surfaces over all facades, all the fake smiles, all the "I don't like it but I need to smile" moments...I lose the battle...I give in sometimes...Its embarrassing...
The world around me is not used to my lonely and quiet self...thanks to my pukish pretentions...they keep on nagging me with the question ..."Ki holo, aj eto chupchap keno? Mon kharap korche?" I answer with renewed vigour..."Arey na na...emni"...I can never define this "emni" in my life...I don the mask again...and again I'm a part of the world around...
Nights are all the more empty...a vast expanse of dark sky stretches beyond my iron grilled windows...I have figured out the world outside is equally lonely and cold ...just like me...

The night unfolds and my eyelids get heavy with age old slumber...I'm tired...it finally gives me the long awaited respite from my facade...shields me from all the pretentions...I hide like a helpless child inside its unfathomable darkness...but then yet another day begins...

La Lettre

She finally wrote the letter..the letter was a vivid detail of her emotions...bare naked emotions..She read it all over again..How would he react? Is it okay to let him know....the questions overbrimmed her helpless mind...she was desperate to let him know of her feelings....she badly wanted to speak to him once...let him know how she still feels about him...is it too late? whats the point? the eternal negative pangs of reality stopped her again...

She badly wanted to tell him tonight... tell him how important he was in her life...wanted to tell him that how his absence affected her... how she wanted to get back...how she just wanted a world of their own...

"Maa..." Her 13 year old son shouted from the other room...18 years or was it more? the letter was stacked in one of the dusty useless envelopes in the attic, written ages back...Mrinalini discovered it this afternoon , while cleaning the mess...A teardrop gently kissed her cheek after all these years...She crumpled the letter inside her soft palms...she tore it to pieces...the waft of autmn wind scattered her emotions over the concrete skyline... The white pieces of paper abandoned in the whirlwind of time kissed the tarred stretch beneath...words ruthlessly crushed under speeding vehicles... or was it speeding Time?

"Maa",Mrinalini wiped off the last trail of tear drop that kissed her dusky skin...Its too late...Its really too late...

Influenced, Inspired plagiarism

I was going through a blog last night...author was a friend of mine...shared a lot of precious moments with her years back...As I read her posts...I saw how she had skillfully lifted from my posts ....She not only lifted them...edited them...added her own words and posted it on her blog...My posts my creations but with a little here n there modifications...

It was not surprising...as she had done this before as well...but then I will not really get into this...I take it as a compliment friend...You can go ahead and lift the rest of the stuff...well of course I'm no Shakespeare and blogs are not copyrighted...

Somebody once said , "Copy from one, it's plagiarism; copy from two, it's research. "...

Well hope your inspired research continues...And moreover "influence is used as a nice word for plagiarism"

So happy lifting...though I really love my posts, my phrases, my words...but then at least I'm happy my posts are worth lifting...a big thanks goes out to you sweetheart!

This post goes out to all the mindless readers who hardly read/think/ use their brains before they comment:

You may be the smart ass in town...do not have to prove it on my blOG...SPARE MY BLOG from your cheeky idiotic comments...

There are days when you just feel like talking...saying the right words...but then there are also days when you dont have a listener.... I have somehow started smsing myself...

Its kind of strange, when you start speaking to yourself...somedays...when life suffocates you, you feel like taking a break, when theres a lump inside and you cant speak about it, when you are happy, when theres nothing, yet something to talk about...talk to yourself... it doesnt help...but it doesnt harm either...fast life, facades, faces, words, time...things are moving so fast, all I can hold on to is... Me... may be