As long as my cellphone's switched on, I expect...I expect they will call, I expect they will have the time to speak...I expect they will make me happy, I expect I will get the solace...i will share, i will listen....This fucking gizmo is making me one hell of a dependant bitch...I need to be happy on my own...

I will be happy...and no one else, but I will make myself happy...

About Me

And every Facebook or Orkut or watever XYZ site has a About Me section...I have seen people fill in this space with hundreds of poems, quotes, oneliners, funny messages and deep and soulful sissy lines...

How do people know so much about themselves...how are they so sure that they are confident or arrogant, negative or positive,selfish or selfless?

I have never really bothered to know myself..I have spent hours discussing other people, gossips, issues, sympathies, envious sighs...but when it comes to me I don't know myself at all...What are the things that makes me the me I am...I don't know..I may be arrogant sometimes, and sometimes a chicken, I may be confident while taking an escalator but scared to press a button inside the elevator...People call me jovial...'mishukey' is the term they use...but to tell you the truth...when I'm scared I speak loads...I'm scared to meet new people or talk to strangers... I don't have the slightest bit of confidence...public speaking makes me all the more nervous...(my boardroom presence is the worst)

I cry easily...I'm emotional...but then not always...there are times when I should be crying but then I dont...and vice versa...Right now..as I write this post I feel I'll break down...but then I'm not crying...I'm just listening to music and scribbling on this white space endlessly...

Crowds scare me..my parents said that during my adolescence, I was so scared, I used to run away from my house, hide in the terrace whenever a group of relatives, or any groups came to our place...I'm still scared to speak...I'll think a thousand times before asking someone.."Whats the time"...But well I hardly let people know about that... Take me to a new place, and I will be be the first one to make friends...Though each word comes out of my mouth is a desperate attempt to bring me out of my inconfidence...

I'm negative as a person and positive at the same time...I like to believe this will work..But then I don't like to be that positive, so that it wont hurt me...it really hurts me when something turns out not the way i expected...then I just console myself saying ...i knew this wont work...though i badly wanted it!

I'm a hypocrite..I'm pretentious...I can pretend and make you feel you're really the best...but I can just turn my back and bitch about you at the same time..I have all signs of a hypocrite...I can't keep secrets if they have the potential of becoming the juiciest gossip of town...

I'm totally in love with myself...I cannot think beyond me..Though I can never express that...I get a strange kind of happiness when I can make someone happy...it makes me happy...and when people are all in praises about me...i just love that...I don't know I always expect to be the centre of attention...I'm an attention seeker...i want all eyes on me! but scared to declare that! may be thats the reason i blog...

There are so many things which are so complicated about me...I hate so many things in life..but when it comes to Facebook/Orkut, I just mention body odour and snobbery....I hate so many things...I hate people who are practical, who are mature and boldly declare themselves to be the epitome of these two qualities.... i dont like too much of straight forward people..whats the use of so 'on the face' stuff if that hurts someone.....i hate people who ignore me...i love something more than photography, ice creams and music... i love to be wanted by everyone... i want attention...in my bedroom you will not only find my bed but my thoughts, my messed up bed and me...

there are more than 5000000 things i cant live without...i really have no clue what i cant live without...i can live without business news channels may be, i can live without hardware shops, i can live without strawberries and baby corn in the traffic jam...i can live without ministers, elections, i can live without furniture shops...and so on...and i can live without fake emotions!

I cant live without so many things...

I love to live on self pity...brood over my loneliness, create sad stories out of it and post it as sulk saga on my blog...i cant live without comments on my blog...

and still you want to know more about me...then keep checking my blog for more details.

Careless Confessions

I changed the name of my blog to Careless Confessions. Raindrops was a name which I coined up just like that...it hardly had any meaning...just out of the blue.. then I started a blog named careless confessions, but I was so in love with my 'Raindrops' that I stopped it midway... I have finally named my blog Careless Confessions...Though raindrops still remains a part of it...

Why Careless Confessions?

Is it possible to express everytime? Why do people expect me to express ? I think this is a disease...I cannot express ...I don't have enough words which will make me express...It seems I'm always short of words...always searching for the right words... I always end up dragging a burden of unspoken feelings , of silent nights and wet pillow covers...but I have failed...failed to exress...

Careless Confessions...is not just a blog...it means expressing 'Me'...I want the world to know 'Me'... I think someday someone will read this blog...and get to know...the real me...I call it careless confessions...each confession a part of my life...a part of my unspoken feelings, unseen smiles, unnoticed teardrops...I cherish them every moment...hope you will have the same feeling when you go through my blog...And if you don't, I dont care!

Journey of X

X is back to her workplace after a long time...X falters while taking the steps inside the highrise, may be its the slip ons...X looks around...familiar faces, indifferent expressions and usual pace...X wants to shout..."Look at me, I'm back"... X cannot...

X enters the elevator...X looks at the specky tagged guy and says "Excuse Me, Y floor please"...X ends up on floor Y...The same color, the same posters, unfamiliar security guard and familiar smell of room freshners...

X walks towards the same old door, swipes the card but the door doesn't open...through the transparent glass door, X looks at the cubicle, someone else sits there...the cubicle still has all the stuff.. ..the terracota mask, the clay dolls, the painting, the desk calendar, diary, scribbles all over, paper planes they made on one idle afternoon, the white floral boquet that came for a friend, the stick ons, X's blue bottle which often got lost...

X looks at them...yes they were there, having fun, throwing paper and calling names...they surely missed X ... X desperately swipes her card again...the door is still locked, it does not open...

X has every little moment etched on her mind about that room, her chair, her cluttered desk, the people who were not just team members, the time they spent, the pranks, the gossips, the giggles, smiles, and the tears, the anxious calls, the celebrations, the failures....At the end of each day X used to look beyond the the huge glass windows in that room that opened out to a vast green expanse bordered by the blue sky on the horizon...

X does not have 'access' to that room anymore...X lost the access to that room, to the moments, to the little treasures, and 'them' who X called friends...X takes a look from behind the closed glass doors... they do not allow trespassing...X is just an outsider right now...X does not belong to the place anymore...

X walks down the corridor...doesn't look back...gets back to her new seat.....sends out the mail..."chocolates at X's desk"...theres suddenly a rush...people run for the chocolates and occasionally stop by formally asking X "Ki kemon laglo", "How was your trip", "How does it feel to leave your husband and come back" , "how will you live, you poor soul, without him..", "Why don't you go back"...X smiles and then they leave... X walks towards her seat, leaving them alone to bitch about her which is the inevitable part of their conversations...

X sits alone...alone...no one to talk, no one to ask, no one with questions, no one with prank plans... no one who will just pat X and say "Ki re aj eto chupchaap...kichu hoeche"...no one needs to know how X feels, what X went through...

X will miss them... X will miss a lot of things... X will get used to her new life and to the busy professionals in this part of the world...X will surely become 'Formal' and 'Professional' some day...X will not make friends, X will only have team members...

X is back....X realized that X has lost a lot of things during her journey....X scribbles again...X gets used to the new cubicle, new seat, new people ....people call her X here...no more paper planes but documents on her desk... a new journey begins for X....Hope someday X will reach her destination...

Homeward Bound

Phew...last 12 hours was HECTIC! Real hectic... From Heathrow to Dubai to Calcutta...heavy handbags, duty free chocolates, running aimlessly, sitting in between a car geek and a makeover freak for 8 hours and finally taking a glimpse of my own city from 19,000 feet..............i'm back home!

Heathrow to Dubai:
All sad to leave my deodorant at the security check section...exploring the duty free shops in 15 minutes( 5 minutes more than my husband's specification).... picking up Toblerone and Kitkat packs (I know whats coming "Kitkat ota to ekhanei pawa jay")

Looked at the directions for my specified flight gate...It was Gate No. 7... Standing in a queue.. behind me a strange looking guy with a punk hair girl.....glitter all over...the girl was kicking her hand luggage instead of pulling or dragging it like me...Innovation at its best and faster than my strolley!...One kick and bull's eye, it was almost close to the ticket counter...

A gentleman with his wife interrupted me amidst my profound thoughts..."May I"....Its a polished way of barging in...polished me says "Oh Sure"... This couple was sitting beside me while I was bidding my husband goodbye.... "Mr. May I" speaks "Tumi ki Bangali" (my first thought "Shit I kissed him in front of Bengalis...Embarrassing realisation after an hour !)... Yet the curious me smiled "Ha apnara?" (though the answer is written all over the question!!!!) Silly me!

My Bong Connection:

Mr. May I: Rich upper middle class...J.U passout... Typically in his 60s...salt pepper hair...travels all over the world with his wife...plans his tour itineraries on the flight...has a share trading business...Has a famous Bong lineage...palatial house in North Calcutta..one more in Salt Lake (well furnished, in case you missed that)...got my invitation for the Durga Puja... baritone voice which comes more out of his snobbery... Frequent use of accented English..

Mr. May I's wife : Quite close to Arundhuti Debi...Interested only in making matter of fact statements and reiterating her husband's statements...Totally a "Repeat after me" chorus

As I was listening to the next announcement, Mr. May I said "Ki Nervous"...( read this as "Are you flying for the first time... look at us...I almost fly everyday! ") I replied in affirmative...As I could not find the perfect fake answer...

Was getting bored so I just moved on...thank god my seat was not next to them...My seat was between a blonde make up maniac and a car geek...both busy in their respective spheres for the rest of the flight that is 8 hours...so no issues...I watched Shrek, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, Diary of a Wimpy Kid, Henry v, 7 things to do before I turn 30 (quite apt!) and Rebound and a few more!

Dubai, Mr.Drunk and Home :

Reached Dubai at 230 am IST... Almost running through the terminals for my next flight...I finally found my seat...Stacked my chocolate bags...And my first thought 'Calcutta--just in 4 hours'...

My co passenger speaks up, "Lots of chocolates"!
Me: Yes.
A specky geeky 40 ish Bong...works in an oil refinery in Bahrain...going to meet his parents...Was interested in talking about the recent economy in Bahrain, number of Bengalis in Bahrain, comparison of Dubai Airport with DumDum Airport (common topic for all flyers)...But I was more interested in the Jennifer Lopez movie, so he was forced to stop....But he was nice and quite simple...

It was around 2 hours to Calcutta....The guy sitting on the left aisle seemed drunk..Copper brown hair(overdose of cheap brown mehendi)...red tie with floral motifs, pointed shoes with heels which had geometric designs embossed on them..Style icon for sure...speaking crap with the air hostess like "You are so nice..I work in Dubai in a pub but I'm from India...I also worked in tv serials"...The air hostess mechanically replied " Thank You Very Much Sir...Would you like any drinks sir? (Gosh No!) ...he replied... oh yes.. "Do you have Rum"..The conversation seemed boring.. I went off to sleep...

The flight was approaching Calcutta in a few more hours...I took out my pen to complete the immigration form...

Mr. Drunk: Excuse me madam, do you have a pen?
Me: (Silently gave him the pen...scared of losing it forever, I keep an eye on him)
Mr. Drunk: Are you married madam? (read this as, "doesnt matter, I'll still try my luck")
After a few minutes I had to speak,
Me: Excuse me, I need that pen
Mr. Drunk: I cant believe this that you are married? ( talking to himself it seemed...disheartened for this child marriage taking place without his prior permission)
Mr. Drunk: How is your husband?
Me: Fine
Mr. Drunk: Is he handsome? !!!!!!!!@#$$$
The air hostess drops in..."Sir are you feeling okay"!

Passenger Announcement: "The flight will be reaching Calcutta, in 30 minutes. The weather blah blah blah".... I could not figure out the rest....I looked below... my city, my matchbox houses, the blue sky... my home...
Home again...Everything seems like a dream as I wake up in my apartment in Landsdowne...Everything is just the way I left it...Back to home, back to my empty room..and back to my reality...

Ode to Coffee

As I start this post I'm sipping my hot morning cup of coffee.

I guess the world is divided into 2 groups--"coffee or tea". I belong to the first one.

I'm not a coffee addict. But I hate tea and I have not tasted it at all or may be once ...once while trekking in Sikkim. I had to drink tea, as coffee was not available. The sad after effect was, I puked throughout. May be it was the after effect of the altitude and not tea. But then, I associate my puking with tea. So tea is totally out from my life.

My earliest memory of coffee traces back to my childhood when Pushudi made coffee every morning in a huge steel mug. She was in her 60s. A retired school inspector, she was the eternal dominating cynical aunt in the family. I was scared of her. She did not have a single 'grey' hair. It was all white. Her hair was like a bunch of white candy floss. That scared me all the more.

It was at her 'request' I was once served coffee. I hated it. Hated the idea of drinking something like a brown chocolately liquid in a huge cup. But I was so scared I could not refuse. I was around 10 years old and it was black coffee! To this day I hate black coffee. I like my coffee with lots of sugar and milk. Anything bitter, reminds me of Pushudi!

I remember when Pushudi came over and stayed with us she used to make me coffee every morning. I got so used to that aroma and the taste that I got addicted to that morning cup of coffee. I carried on the legacy for the rest of my life!

My memories of coffee takes me back to my Darjeeling trip. I remember a foggy morning in Darjeeling. I was walking down the mall with ma and we felt like having coffee. There was a coffee shop right at one corner of the mall. Keventers. That was my first trip to Darjeeling and to Keventers. But trust me it was not the last.

But then, we did not have coffee that day. We had hot chocolate with bacon sandwich. The hot chocolate flavor still lingers on and everytime we are in Darjeeling, Keventers is surely on the list. From the terrace at Keventers we watched the busy Darjeeling mall waking up to a new morning as the sun rays glittered on the snowy peaks of Kanchenjungha.

I think I associate coffee with moments more than its flavor. I remember every time during a train journey, my father asks me "Coffee Khabi" and I smile. The coffee vendor with his skilful hands pours the milk from the steaming kettle and adds sugar and coffee. He hands over the paper cups to us while my father gets busy taking out the coins. I promise to myself I wont sip the hot coffee, but invariably I do that. I always end up sipping the hot coffee that leaves a strange sensation on my tongue throughout the day. But then it does not stop me from having it. I like it everytime. Not the coffee. But the feeling.

Our neighbors were South Indians. Everytime I went to Sanju's place, Aunty asked me 'Coffee'? And I happily nodded as I loved their taste of coffee. May be it was not Nescafe, it was Bru coffee. They had a strange way of serving coffee. It was in a stainless steel glass placed in a bowl. I loved the entire experience of having coffee holding the bowl and the glass. The coffee had a different flavor too.

Well if its about coffee I cant forget the innumerable coffee dates I had with friends, boyfriends, crushes and can be crushes and casual dates. My first cafe date was with a guy and we went to Aqua Java in Elgin Road. I ended up marrying that guy later on but then thats a different story. The place has closed down. Though I was quite reluctant to go to a coffee shop with him. We had something in Mocha flavor, the first time we had coffee. Even he doesnt remember, but then we enjoyed it. Though we ended up fighting!

Later I tried a number of coffee shops. Different Barista joints, CCDs, Costa Coffee, Starbucks, Zen, though somehow Barista remains my favorite. Specially the Gariahat Barista. And yes how can I forget my Barista Blast!

Lake road CCD or fondly called Ashok er Dokan is also special. But the breakfast at Flury's with a cup of hot coffee beats any cafe joint coffee for me! Well may be I have special memories with Flury's as well.

The coffee at Compare, my previous office also deserves a special mention. The "Coffee Khete Jabi" call meant GOSSIP! Also if we were stressed out, we often consoled each other during the coffee breaks. There used to be a thousand coffee breaks during our 8 hours of work which we called 'pata lekha'. Miss the terrible coffee at Compare and the gossip sessions all the more.

This December, me and Supriya discovered a restaurant called 'The Cafe' while walking down the streets. Though we planned for Flurys , as luck would have it, it was overcrowded on 25th December morning. We were in a queue waiting behind 1000s of Flury's fanatics. So two hungry souls( we had a few jalebis only), tired after street hopping ended up at this insignificant place called 'The Cafe'. Its just close to British Council. We even decided not to spill the beans and pretend to others that we had Christmas breakfast at Flury's . This was our statement :

"Shobaike bolbo Flurys ey amra kheyechi" ! But the purely South Indian meets continental breakfast at The Cafe was not even close to Flury's at all in any possible way.

And yes how can I forget Sector 5 CCD and Barista, where me Pallavi and Supriya used to meet. I almost sneaked inside to find indifferent Supriya with that typical "You guys are always late" kinda expression on her face while Pallavi missing as usual. She is usually inside the elevator during these 'SOS' situations.

Miss u guys and that coffee and the sizzling brownie too!


However would like to mention this strange incident related to coffee:
A few years back when I went for a trip in North Bengal, we stopped at small street side shop and asked "Coffee kothay pawa jabe"--- The man was kind of half drunk it seemed. He took out a large cauliflower and said "Phul kopi ---ey to"!

I finally added some color to my blog! Hope it adds color to my sulk posts as well! and I end up writing something other than sulk stories.

I often end up writing my posts in a note pad and not saving them, bingo its lost! However this is not a good enough reason for not posting for the last 2 months.

Its not really working these days. I feel I cant write anymore. Not that I was a Shakespeare meets Tagore in my last birth, but then whatever it was, at least there was a need to express, need to shape up my thoughts, I dont feel that within me anymore. Back then I felt that I wanted to write, scribble, sulk and ended up posting my eternal melancholy on raindropsandshadows. And yes I badly waited for those detailed comments.

I have often asked myself, why did I end up creating a blog. I was quite comfortable scribbling on notepads, scribbling on the pages of my diary, on the last page of every school/college/office notebook I have used for all these years...Was it just to be with the trend, to post the link on orkut and facebook and say, hey I have a blog too, or was it just simply to give a shape to all these confused yet myriad thoughts that haunt me all the time.

I really dont have a clue. May be all of you have a reason for blogging , for me, I simply cant find any. May be the attention seeker I am, this was just the probable after effect. I dont know. I dont want to think. These days I have stopped thinking. I just like to go with the flow.

However this post has a reason behind it. The reason why I ended up posting today. Last night as I checked my mailbox there was a mail that said that some Anonymous has posted a comment. It was for a post written ages back. I published the comment. There was a strange kind of satisfaction that I owed to myself for a long time. And so I ended up posting once more. Thanks Anonymous. For you I ended up scribbling on a notepad again. And this time I wont lose it , at least for the time being.