So I was sitting there in the car munching on a chicken sandwich when I feel a pair of eyes on me.

I look up to find this rikshawala staring at me, eating. And as he realizes that I am looking at him, he turns his face away with an embarrased look.

And I realize, that he was, at that moment, probably more hungry than I had ever been.

The suns rays slash through the ripples of muddy water with venegence..as though wanting to wipe them from the very face of earth forever.

And I grasp and pant to hold on to the shadows of my words.

And then the meaning of happiness changes.

The radio doesn't sound quite that nice,

Tram rides dont excite so much.

A bottle of beer seems more alluring

Than candy floss.

A dance floor at a night club,

Seems a better a plance to be in than

The vastness of an empty playground.

Amusement parks don't amuse all that much.

And joy rides arent very joyful.

The price tag on a gift begins to matter

And it becomes embarrassing to

Have mothers kiss you on the forehead.

Friend change acording to the job profile,

Loved ones become the bothering ones.

Life takes a sharp turn,

Plunges into whole new definitions.

...And then suddenly

The very meaning of happiness changes.

Changes, as you grow up.

To the lights that blazed on streets,

The fire that sounded in their heads.

To the love that was there,

And the one that pretended to be there.

To Eagles, Dylan and Straits,

Eliot, Dickens and the rest.

To my nation and the tricoloured flag

Feeling proud despite what isn't there.

To a room that became the world

And words that lashed out like swords.

To belief and loosing faith

Life, death and all that jazz.

To laughter that echoes in our ears

And eyes that made you touch the sky.

To revoulutions and their revolutionaries

The ones who brought hope to a million hearts.

To that one song that took your breath away,

And those few words that left you spellbounded for the rest of the day.

To utter chaos and board examinations

And overrated and overpriced education systems.

To winning and losing,

Past, present and the future.

To falling in love and getting heartboken.

To falling in love all over again,

Attaining new heights of impossibilities.

To making sense out of the senseless

And love out of nothing at all..

To methods of madness and potato heads,

To pot bellies and long legs!!

To Ma and Pa,

For pocket money and the rest.

To dreams and illusions.

To joy and happiness.

To ecstacy and bliss.

To disiilusionment and sorrow.

To grief and bitterness.

To the explainanble and undecipherable.

_________________________________________________

To lovers, haters and the indifferent

A very Happy New Year.

This might be stupid but who cares???

I don't.

You know what I don't care about?

I don't care about the fact that I haven't written for months...I don't care about the fact that I have totaly lost touch and to tell the truth don't even know what I am going to write but here I am..writing...YES!! I am writing and thats the most important part.



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They wished me last night. Many of them. They wished that my new year would be a great one and I have all my wishes fulfilled. But they ignored my very first wish.

I wished that the year doesn't end. Its not that my year was a fantastic one. I mean,yes, there are a few fantastic things that happened this year and the way round as well.

But the one thing that I realized the most this year is that it hurts...it hurts to leave the old times behind...and it hurts the most when old time leaves you behind.

It hurts. Really does.

I sit here in front of the computer and wonder how to begin and where to, for that matter; and there is much to say. But I shall begin, anyhow.
It is 26.11.2009, a year since the Mumbai blasts. And for some strange reason I see no signs of any emotion in this city that apparently has a soul. True, a peace walk has been organized from the Citezen's Park to Victoria Memorial covering a distance of just about half a mile, but is that enough compensation for lives lost. Belonging to a school which has a firm belief in the existence of God, made no mention about Him resting the souls of the men who lost their lives and the ones who sacrificed. Belonging to a family where the father has been serving in the Indian Army for more than two decades, no mention was made of the officers and jawans who laid down their live this day not less than a year ago.
How many of us remeber the names of the defence officers who were shot on this day. How many of us remember that it was because of a defective bullet proof vest that a woman lost her husband and a child, his father. How many of us remember just the number of people who were shot down by terrorists exactly a year back.
There is much that I have to say but at this moment I have a lump in my throat. So this where I stop.
Kolkata, is perhaps no more what it used to be. Perhaps, it is no more the city of joy. ___________________________________________________
Someone had once told me that I make a very bad writer when I am angry. I make a bad writer anyway, I realize. But today, I feel an emotion that I havent felt in a long time. Today, I feel ashamed. For the first time ever, I feel ashamed of belonging to a city which perhaps somewhere, is losing its heart. I feel ashamed that the city which made me fall in love with the very existence of mankind is making me question my love for it.

The sweet smell of wet earth,
Bent trees
Drops of water on leaves.
Wet and cold,
Mushy,
Snug.
Her disarrayed hair
His warm skin.
Tangled locks
Slippery sandals
Dark skies,
Dark eyes as the skies above.
Smell,
Of his skin.
Puddles of muddy water
Ripples and a paperboat
Driftwood.
Walking down narrow lanes
The hem of her skirt
The whiteness of her legs
The smell in his neck
Nose rubbing nose
Eyelids touching eyelids
Light brush of lips,
And melting down.
So drowsy,
Long fingers clasped around
Pudgy ones.
So very drowsy.........