I'm feeling terrible tonite...my machine says its 11.16 PM...and wat am i supposed to do now? sulk? sleep? scribble crazy stuff? silently look at the lavender walls? everything looks so neatly arranged....is this my room? no unfolded levis...no half opened books... no scattered towels... I have changed...

My window opens out to a 19th century red brickwalled structure... a mansion built by some nameless zamindar of yesteryear...the dark terrace looks eerie tonite...its lonely out there too... the summer breeze gently whispers through my half opened window...may b i cant write anymore...may b i'm losing it...

How would you feel if you were under a microscope, where you're completely unable to do anything...and even if you do...that would be the laughing stock of millions who are watching you... the eyes that follow you every moment... the glances, the smiles exchanged...why do you have that spot on your face...why is it kept this way? why this and not that...why dont you smile? why are you crying? are you feeling lonely? hungry?

And burdened under this 1 million whys ifs and whats...you start parting with the 'you' which you had carefully nurtured for all these years....

Silhouette

She walked down Mandeville Gardens every evening... Her floral printed skirt kissed by gentle summer wind...Her legs covered in stockings that almost resembled her skincolor... She carried a dark red umbrella, with its brown oval end clasped in her palms....her black shoes though quite old fashioned had the pointed heels, that made a quaint sound on the tarred stretch of the posh locality...

I saw her always from a distance..Never managed to see her face...Her back was quite alluring..Her fully formed hips, her stockings, shoulder length hair that kissed her loosely fitted shirt, formed a silhouette on my mind...I follwed her often, though keeping it as a cherished secret...Her red umbrella, and floral printed skirt, gently combed hair all added to the silhouette... I never had the courage to speak to her... I was never confident...My middle class Bong sensibilities overpowered me, everytime I wanted to approach her...

Today I had made up my mind... I stood on the other side of the road for the entire afternoon, just to have a glimpse of her face...

"She listen'd with a flitting blush...with downcast eyes and modest grace...and she forgave me, that I gazed too fondly on her face!"

I was in love...I knew her by now almost...How she walked...how she gently moved the curls that kissed her face... how she wiped the trail of sweat from her face...i just wanted to lift the veil...
just like the anxious lover on a first date, I almost stood there for hours....expecting her long awaited arrival...expecting the sound of her heels...her floral skirt and a girly fragrance that filled in the air each time she walked by...

There was a commotion near the main road...May be some sort of accident...I rushed to the spot...A trail of blood on the black asphalt...over enthusiatic and curious crowd...clueless cops...

A speeding vehicle had crushed another life... The face could not be identified... I peeped in... The red umbrella was lying on the side of the pavement... The pointed heels on the other side...It was almost twilight... I returned home carrying the silhouette on my mind and a secret in my heart...

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...