Yet another of those events which make you want to take a walk down memory lane. We have very few pictures together but each one has a story to tell. Now just imagine how many stories Twenty five years would have to tell? Recently my parents celebrated their twenty fifth marriage anniversary. Rather they didn't have an option but to celebrate in style. My family and I decided to give my parents a party, it nearly turned into one of the much loved soap-opera's on daily television. What with self invited guests and unexpected twists and turns miraculously it was a success. As I sat with my trusty computer trying to put together the best moments of my parents lives I realized a simple collage is not enough to house so many memories. It is like trying to fit a lifetime of happiness in a paper boat. It is such an overwhelming thought. However thanks to my father we have photographs of every significant event of our lives. Just short of photographing his own wedding he has diligently clicked away with his numerous trusty cameras. The drawback being there are more pictures of me and then the birds and the beesand then my mother and very few of him. My mother and I have tried to make it up by photographing him after I was old enough and my mother confident enough to be trusted with his precious cameras. Nevertheless I managed to turn up with quite a few photographs and what resulted was a tiny peek at their lives.   

A Conversation

These messages were sent while you were offline.

12:52 PM Amrita: "you're under arrest. The charge- trespassing in my dreams"

12:53 PM "you must be tired because you've been running through my mind all day"

12:54 PM "Do you have a map? Because I keep getting lost in your eyes"

  which one do you like best?

In Reply...

Why do want to arrest me now?

I have for long surrendered myself to you.

If I had been running it was to find an answer.

Can I love you and forget that we had been in love?

So that I can give myself to you over and over again?

Who knows what love is and how it is born?

I am just an ordinary man with no direction.

I lose my way home everyday.

I have no map to guide me out of the wilderness in my mind.

I had once walked by myself, drenched in rain and cheap liquor.

The rain drops had knit a curtain before my eyes through which I had seen a face.

The face is long lost now.

But what I have is so beautiful.

Those fawn like eyes of the princess of my dreams.

I wish I could see it till my hands can feel and my lips can touch.

                                                                  -- Nowhere Man

In answer...

Can you forget that you are alive?

Will a life without a hope be living?

Its not a life that doesn't dream...

It is a mere existence...

How can I forget that which gave me life?

Your mere presence, a brush of a finger on my cheek

A warm breath in my hair....

That rekindled hope and steadied my faltering dreams...

A whiff of fresh air, a burst of energy and I soar

The wind never turns, it takes me with it...

higher and higher to secret places...

Lets me be where ever whenever 

Doesn't hold my hands but I know its there

When I fall it cradles me in sweet embrace

I do not know what it is but I know it is here to stay

for ever and forever with you and me...

Living in Hyderabad for the past eight months has shown me the vibrancy of language. The subtle nuances and turns of phrases which make a language unique. Currently I can express myself in three languages and attempt to express myself au francais. Juggling four languages day and night was an unique experience. I realized that I have actually stopped thinking in hindi, bengali or english. I think in all three or I think in a language of the mind.

Comment tu t'appelle?

I had once commented on a poem my friend had written on his blog. When I finished it turned out to be this..... I lost my friend to time..... but certain memories last a lifetime. I will not fill my posts with bygones but a little dash of bittersweet is always necessary.

......She tossed aside her shroud of clouds,
Parted the winds and waited...
As the first flickers of light touched the pyre
She claimed what was her own,
andConsumed the flames ire
Some thing touched his brow,
something soft and sweet
something which gave him a slight shove....
He sailed accross the murky troubled water
sand landed on his arse into a rich and prosperous happy future....
with happy memories of the girl he tried to cremate....
ready to start afresh....

Sounds a trifle mad doesn't it? there is a bit of eliot in it the influence of Preludes stanza III.

Blues

Am I caught in a mood swing? sad.....maybe listening to jazz....none of the above ... I am sitting in Bhubaneswar and it is 16:10 the sun shines like it has never shone before,result-a sweltering heat, my room on the roof is worst affected,it makes me think of the blues the hues the cool sea breeze the crisp white waves and you don't mind the sun. geographically I am 2 hours from the sea around 70 kms but it is hotter here than in kolkata.....

....Last night I dreamt that I was all alone I think it is my biggest fear, I am seldom scared of rodents and cockroaches unless they catch me at unawares. ghosts intrigue me I would like to try a planchet someday. But the thought that people's existence in my life is temporary unsettles me. these fears come when i am sad and unhappy, the thought that you will leave me a lot of memories to give me company isn't something i can deal with calm composure. I believe I weave my life too much around people, with emotions and feelings to strengthen my knit so it is always difficult to rip apart...It leaves a jagged tear which is difficult to patch it is never a clear mend, leaving behind a memory of that....what was once a part of a whole.... but I knit diligently when I put my heart to it...maybe the new weave will be as intrinsically a part of me but the blue will be a colourI have never imagined before,ephemereal yet earthly in texure rich and warm in shade...I do not know what makes it so special.....it is the colour of my soul i hope....

The Dream Interpreter

I often dream to while away time( technically speaking daydream)of things which are never going to happen to me because I am unfortunately not a fictional character of a victorian classic or a mystery thriller or a romantic nonsense. Daydreams are often fun since I can tweak and twist it o my own liking, however they also depend on moods, my black moods can make me dream of really dark happenings all around me where a special person dies or leaves and the dream is vivid enough to make me cry....the first tear which rolls down my cheek is a splash of cold water which jolts me back to reality. How foolish I am crying over something which hasn't happened and may not or will not happen at all. My deepest fears tend to magnify with the help of my clarity of thought and imagination. Nevertheless many a times my pot of dreams has tided me over unpleasant things and situations, I have learnt to see the brighter side of most situations I can always dream it to be something else. Am i an escapist? or is it a psychological defense mechanism?One thing I am sure of is that I am definitely not a psychoanalyst so my intrpretations are purely mine not subject to any elusive theory..