"Tola"

The enigma of this word is unmistakably obscured for the non-bengalis. The meaning is grafted into the minds of gluttonous individuals for whom single hood is hunger. The quantity and quality of fodder is relative though. The deprived is glutted with frustration. The virtual vacancy is not given due worth by the birds(read fairies/cindrella/snow-white/rapunzal/…). In such cases follow Techno chronicles.

Lets not exaggerate on the negative aspect. Optimism says how you should execute this “tola” operation. Firstly, flood your network providers with as much fortune as your guardian’s profession allows you to. Mere gratitude towards the heavenly towers. The construction of the cage would have been impossible otherwise. Once she recoils, retreat. Attitude, they say. The lubrication / catalysis step. Next, quote famous rock-heads(whether they follow or not, they are bound to take severe interest). Perfect fillers. Garnish with masked sycophancy. The most delicate mechanism. Triumph will ensure endurance.

The aforesaid paragraphs can be further diluted. Distortions occur at times so apply at your own risk. For further details contact the blogger.

P.S : Experience brings expertise. Vice-versa is not-applicable.

Et tu Brute

The story starts with a mid-day detestation towards an attitude-drenched lad. The then-lanky “dude” was hero-worshipped by aspiring pacers. The top-order was a piece of “Kookie-jar” chocolate cake to him. Gobbled it up in a split-second. Then the “Diwali dhamaka”. Finally some 2 years back, I came across the actual person. People who say I am bad at judging others are proved wrong. I am the worst decipherer of the intrinsic behavioral patterns. A professor in making. He solved WBJEE stuff supersonically. To top it all, ego couldn’t even book the remotest of houses in one of the obscure broadways of his mind. That’s my departing-friend in short. The neighborhood found it difficult to guess our flat numbers. I wouldn’t be awestruck if someone said that the boy belonged to A-22/8.

One fine morning he jubilantly produces his cell and displays the infrastructure of his new abode. Gallantly, I approved his notions. Deep down an uncanny something pricked.
A few days later a frustrated figure says “ I m leaving on the 28th of October”.

The shifting process terminated today. Sraboni (the housing complex in which I stay for the ignorant), has always been exasperating. So shall it remain……….

No more 5 km long walks. No more cribbing about the way different damsels look. No more balcony-room conversations. No one to patronize Manchester United. No more whole day FIFA’08.

New Garia is not far-away. Maybe it’s just the spirit of A-20/5 that has been distilled out and refrigerated. Delicacy for another gloomy mid-day. :)

Stranded

Now this time, air was not my sole companion. Maddox was blushing with all the cozy compliments it received from the twosomes. I failed to concur. Well the complaint vanished in thin air as we criticized the sparkling beauty of the society. Few did abscond from our candid appreciation. Limit tended towards nullity. We evaded the dazzle and took refuge in a money-sucking-vault. A banner read - “Café Coffee Day”. Followed by- “Here comes the rain again to drain out my bliss again”. Confidentiality eroded. It wasn’t quite possible to escape the clutches of antipathy. The snobby pugs maintained a constant decibel level. We failed to interact. Congruency played its part. Words were not required. Exaggeration may be the theme of this piece but there are no other means to accentuate the vivacity. An hour passed by. I stared passionately towards the pork sandwich(maybe it was something else). Firmly evading the glance. The authenticity of this statement is questionable. Its better to mention one point – the chatterbox flavour was not what I wanted. Wish fulfillment. The digital printout read 298. Fooling around is not acceptable at some joints. Finally we moved out, quite entertained by the economy-blessed dolts and their mobile-phone gibberish. My last act did give them a reason to laugh(I could not muster up the courage to put it down). A kilometer long walk. Reached another famous focus of human concentration. Deshopriya Park – they say. As the name suggests, the place is indeed loved by the “Desh-bashi”s. The ultimate cab ride. The penultimate one was not that soothing as the K-550i bearer was quite messy. CCD and Maddox had already pissed us off. Though the day ended at a different note.

P.S: Its better not to draw conclusions as it’s a general ordinary narrative piece.

Stallion & Clay

The raven stallion gazed wearily
A half-chance is all he prays for
Bonded to the salient stable
Comfort endless, only lack – soul

Have you ever seen a fist-full of clay
Un-watered for days after days
Until it, develops fracture and snaps
The specter of fertility – unwanted

Defying the countless obstacles
The stallion breaks free and flees
Into the serenity of the woods
Bliss dances in rhythm – apprehensive

Adequate water resurrects the clay
Ready for the daffodil to grow
The weed invades to spoil the show
Conclusion to be drawn - unknown

Cameo & Nuliet

Act I Scene I

Location: Haldirams, Exide on St. Valentine’s day

Cameo(with an impish smile) : What would you prefer?

Nulliet (blatantly) : Raw meat. As if, you didn’t know.

Cameo (a bingo grin) : Adulterated, I surmise.

Nulliet (whining) : You regard me as a contaminant. Is this my position? Its as if I am
your harlot and not your girl

Cameo (frustrated) : Why does it always happen that you take my joke a as an
insinuation? Even chopped chicken is meat. Therefore, I was being
a bit more accurate.

Nulliet (wrenches out the words required for the quarrel) : Chopped chicken lacks life and is digestable.

Cameo (surrenders to the lady’s high intelligence quotient) : Oh baby. Why do we fight?
You are my girl. I am your man. That’s what matters. No more
issues. Lets get out. Its valentine’s day after all.

Nulliet (could not reconcile to the fact that Cameo has accepted defeat) : Its over? I don’t
believe my ears. (Not dragging the episode) Lets go.

Cameo (the baazigar) : We will take a bus to Park Street.

That’s the beauty of this duet. They are so much in “love” . Their ethereal “love” just doesn’t let them go.

Act I Scene II

Location : the mid-day streets, flooded with vendors. The swanking couples in lemon yellow and stinking red.

Nulliet (enthusiastically, examines a fake-emerald ring) : Wouldn’t this be a perfect vday
gift?

Cameo (bewildered at this creature’s idiosyncrasy) : Are you off your chump? Why the hell do you need this plastic toy? (followed by the wry smile)

Nulliet (embarrassed ) : Leave it. (starts walking)

Cameo (petrified) : Pardon me sugar. I never meant to hurt you. It was a genuine remark.
(as usual, he is screwed. He craved for a time- machine)

Nulliet (furious, was waiting for this second) : That’s perfectly understood. This is what I receive as a gift from the person I love (love love love alone. Ladies and gentlemen mark the word) the most. I should have listened to Juliet. I mistook her concern for vilification. Alas……………(I don’t have the requisite faculty to explain the varied gestures of heart-ache via words)
(Juliet is Nulliet’s long lost friend. She was dead against Cameo.)

Cameo (the abrasive mode) : Romeo called you a bitch. Wish I could have trusted him.
(Romeo is Cameo’s dead brother). Its impossible to drill something into your pigeon-head.

Nulliet (in the perfect James Hetfield patch) : And its impossible to extract out romanticism from your soul. You can only gobble. You cant chew. Body Body Body (each with an increasing frequency).

(The pedestrians were not much surprised. They are used to such stuff. That’s the “vday” crowd)

Cameo (strategic mention of his dead brother didn’t work. Plan B. Modulating his tone) : Baby, we are drifting away. (Two droplets of croc-tears) I am really really really sorry. (On his knees) I beg of your forgiveness. I ought to be stuffed with nails. Please honey. Give me last chance.

Nulliet (duel effect of the sun and Cameo’s maneuver melts her) : We should move off to Elliot Park. (holding Cameo’s hand and giving it a jolt. Cameo springs up. In a sugary sweet snotty pitch) Why do you say such things? You know na I love you sooooo……. Much. You are my shona….. (sorry comrades, I was not blessed enough to catch the rest of it)

Cameo (the vampirish glare) : You are irresistible today.

Nulliet (the blush, finally) : Dushtu…

To be continued…

Monogamy - A social evil

The day starts with the mobile alarm crooning at its best. Pouring out every electron of its damned emotion (the protons are coupled with neutrons). As if, wailing for its demon-lover. Followed by, the sugary yelling of his most beloved. That’s what marks the commonest of days. A solitary bath where he experiences the sound of silence. “Perfect music”. An egg-poach with two toasts, buttered with trans-fat-free “Amul butter delight”. A soothing bus or auto ride. Car preferred in case of a wealthier dolt. Barring Boredom,everything prevalent is abstract. That’s what life tends to become when you step into your forties. Sorry folks, I forgot to mention the Napolean-like-rebellious brats. They spark at the slightest friction. Even if you ask them “How was your day ?”. They snap back with such ground-breaking answers that jams your jaw for the rest of the day. Flabbergasted, you refrain from uttering any further words. Actually you get intimidated. You lack the essential faculty to evaluate the fuel-content of the next sentence you speak out. Therefore “ Chacha apna jan bacha”.

Dwelling in this abysmal pool of frustration, a hope still lingers in the forsaken airways of mind.
A latent aridity which can only be satisfied with a little warmth(no pun intended). Day-dreaming about the girl-next-door who is just about to get married may suffice. Frustration would then take its toll.

What if your 20 yr old love did not end up in this identity-crisis. What if every drop of protoplasm still fought for the partial passion, that has accidentally endured. Your lack of enthuse stealthily creeps in. Acidity.

Comrades, this is the problem with the society. We are prejudiced. Forced by the exasperated dogmas of the knowledgeable. Monogamy is a social evil. With the increment in the number of "istiris", the stagnation in every "swami"'s life is likely to flee. Not one but many faces to fascinate about. No requirement to throw tantrums at your peers in the place-of-pilgrimage. Just keep one fact in mind - "Women are in no way inferior. They are by far superior to the race of men. Thereby the are not to be confined. They too have the right to earn". I hope this will keep you out of any "forecasted" financial crisis.

Confrontation

I stared intriguingly into her semi-raven eyes. Perhaps, trying to figure out the facts well camouflaged. Success was least expected. Failure may not have been the best of friends but lately I do relish its company. On a route to total obliteration of the uncertain. Seldom did I understand the subtlety in tears. They say that women do have this fundamental aptitude. The righteousness is often questionable. Neither did I intend to delve into the vile actuality. At that moment the most credible choice was to believe her. Hmm, it was essentially unessential to state that I was bespectacled. To tell you the truth, tears exaggerated her charm to an unfathomable level. Well, I fell into the abyss. The winter wind soothed. Pathos waited eagerly, slightly bored. Her numb lips finally moved. The inebriating ambience lent its quintessence. That made us talk. Another mumbling-fumbling attempt to lubricate the process. Paradoxical fate confused the hapless soul(s).
Was it confusion? Or was it confrontation?
Falsehood-corroded history seemed to be far-away. What prevailed was ever-enduring. Instantaneous joy can act as a really bad intoxicant. A perfect dose of lament and time may be the right remedy.
The next segment of the animated evening was not that eventful as expressions are incompatible with narration.
Utopian life is not quite possible in the big city. The realm of realism is ready to exterminate people who tend to revolt. Thereby, I joined the futile masquerade.

Midnight Caffaeine

The useless inanimate cuckoo reminds me of the fact that its 12 and i need to befriend or to put it in a better way, allure my ever-absconding slumber. This is quite a difficulty for an egoist or male chauvinist like me(assuming slumber to be a girl). Reluctantly, i made an attempt to switch off the think- tank. Failed. Well anticipated, but didnt take an attempt to get rid of this exhortation. Played along. Overfilled with the generosity of the falcate-white. And I got hooked again. It was just an ordinary night. Yet it was enduring. Sick and tired of the age-old acid-base reactions, a freshness spurted from the inside.

My ever-weathering epitome pleaded and conscience aided him. The provocation was out of range. A desperate jump into the chasm of make-belief. Satisfied but sabotaged. Wrenched out what should have been buried. Falsehood poked me. Down I went.

On diluting the above piece(of shit) its quite clear that when you dont have a reason to sleep or you are seated at the climax of idleness you seem to wander through the world wide webs and tire out your eyes so as to gather the requisite impetus to fall asleep. Thats how life goes.
Boredom forced me to pen dowm this piece of garbage/gibberish without reason so as to distribute a bit of my sufferings.

Change

The ever-pragmatic Brutus brutally daggering the aspiring-tyrant, Caesar to death or the half-intoxicated frust impregnating the girl-next-door. Both the above procedures are hardcore examples of change or irreversible change, to be more precise. The former changed the history of the green(read blue/yellow) planet whereas the latter changed the fate of the innocent(thats purely co-incidental) maiden. This sort of change is quite easily dealt as a deccelerating force cannot undo whats already done.

The white-clad lady hoping from one Bengali-news channel to another has finally given up the habit of throwing tantrums or shamik sen giving up the habit of bunking classes. The specified actions can be classified as changes. In this case its reversible. The fake-phD-holder will never sign a treaty with tranquility nor will the semi-porcupine have the courage to tolerate his teachers for more than 1 day. Ever tried counting the number of children Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi had(or has). Constipation guaranteed. Countering reversible changes are quite similar to it.

Gut-outrage

Meandering through the falsehoods of the augmented psychological complexities, certain corollaries strike my mundane mind.
Changing your vista in order to suffice the needs of an already-satisfied soul is the epitome of commitment , precisely srwewing up your own existence.
To harbour a sense of feel-good is perhaps the best way to justify your misdeeds.
Yet at the end of the day she steals your show.
At this juncture, your image seems to perfectly overlap a professional-dreamer's cast.
The stereotypical idiots empathize while the intellectually-blessed mock.
Either you suffer anxiety-attacks(most of the lot are good in dramatics) or you follow Shakti Chattopadyay's footsteps.
The former tend to become more and more attack-prone while the latter turns a new leaf.
A unique lot is blessed to possess dual-characteristics and luckily I belong to this sect.
She enjoys the company of this sect. Fodder of two different flavours well packaged and market-friendly.
Actually, she has various un-apprehended demands which fail to maintain a steady state and is stabilized dyanamically. Therefore, its quite clear that I have the most important role in this obtuse reaction. The side effects of this potentially-challenged reaction has had an acute effect on my gut which in turn makes you people go through this torture.

A Porcupine's Tale

One fine sunny night a precarious porcupine was on the move. The intimidated sun had to follow his order. Although, he was paid for his overtime, it was a bit too much for him. The adamant exhibition-of-thorns was confident. He oozed out optimism. He has waited and persisted through the vacant vintages. Fate finally blesses him and his quench thrusts him towards his prey.

The bunny was adorable but easily tempted, quite similar to the lady featuring in Led Zepp's stairway to heaven. The horrendous cur waited at the end of the causeway, unaware of the porcupine. The bunny was on the move. A gap of five minutes which rounds up to about 50 bunny-steps. In comes the porcupine with the sun stealing the darkness of the causeway at the dead of night.

The fight began. The bunny was perplexed and was inept in taking a firm step. The cur had his beastly charm and two years of fellowship. The porcupine's trump card was the wrath of the mighty star.

The first segment of the fight was easily won over by the porcupine. Three direct darts. A headbutt and two deadly punches. The cur had to retreat. He had not yet finished. The jubilant porcupine was nearing his ex-foe. A sudden hit of mighty claws. The cur was back on track.

What followed is not certain. Some say that the porcupine, aided by the bunny vanquished the cur. Some complains of the contrary. Some spend their precious hours searching for the rest of the myth and some dont bother.