Atomic study of the object would have yielded groundbreaking results. But object is again a very incorrect term. A tad more lust may have made the perfect amalgamate. Still, its completely subjective. Well, I tried to delve into the origin of the event. Uneventful stuff doesnt have an origin. Or are the thoughts unfathomably divergent. Now, the upsurge of relentless adrenaline did not help. Guess, over usage led to its complete consumption. Should have known its conventional.\
Shamik - "What did I expect?"
Rhiju - "Obscured"
Shamik - "Reason for getting into such a thing "
Rhiju - "Blurred"
Shamik - "Should I feel numb ? "
Rhiju - "Futile"
Shamik - "People may think I am evading"
Rhiju - "Fools"
Shamik - "What is my destination?"
Rhiju - "Camouflaged"
Shamik - "Did I rise from it's ashes?"
Rhiju - "Fleeting"
Shamik - "Re-established glory"
Rhiju - "Evident"
Shamik - "Mission Half complete "(grin)
Rhiju - "Kuddos" (quissical smile)
Tuesday, April 13, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Cameo and Nulliet
Act II
location : an abandoned park(preferably in salt lake)Nuliet(wailing) : You dont love me. You fantasize that.......(with the advent of act 377, this void can be "de-void"ed by any name, barring Cameo's own blood).
Cameo [terrified (stupidity cajoled him to take a false step). He is desperate to refrain this siren from breaking free. Also afraid of..........(fill up perverts) ] : Why? What have i done ?
Nuliet : You didnt (producing her cell, as if to smash Cameo's nose) reply to this L.M [lunatic(read love) message]
The message:
How many moments do you miss me ?
[Units favourable : picosecs, nanosecs,microsecs ........secs(no perverts no) ]
[Time : five minutes after their two hour telephone(read loveline) conversation]
Cameo (sigh) : Am I that bad a lover(i mean modern day lover. perverts at work again)? Am I ? (shedding a tear drop)
(All of a sudden, starts singing) Baby (and not maybe) I m addicted
.......ur the drug that keeps me from dying.......baby i m a liar
(holy shit, Cameo is screwed)
Nuliet (yelling) : Yes, yes, yes. Now u speak. You are a liar. An excellent one.
[A peal of thunder(read screech) followed by a zephyr of tears]
Cameo (understanding the subtlety in tears, starts cuddling) : How can you............
Rest is recorded in the minds of modern perverts.
P.S : This extract is taken from the " World Perverts United " forum's daily journal, under the category "Stereotypes"
Monday, March 1, 2010
Six more months
“Six more months, not a second less,” proclaimed the biopsy report. Patient repeated the affirmation quite a number of times like a hymn. Doctor was exasperated for the first time. He detested this patient’s lament. He was used to such cases. In fact, he was the only gastroenterologist of Midnapore municipal hospital. Colon cancers are ‘in’. It renders the affected a distinct historic value. So why is this creature crooning? Death is the cardinal truth of life. Evasions are impossible. Therefore, no point cribbing. Coming back to the Doctor, being a prodigy does not guarantee you a satisfactory life. Moreover, he was an anachronism of the bygone era. A period in the history of homo sapiens, when people preferred service to money. They held themselves responsible for the betterment of society. His disarrayed thoughts took him back to his reflective pension.
“….brightest of the lot,” ended Professor Munshi, then H.O.D of the Doctor. Munshi was the most profound admirer of him. He was especially impressed by his dogmatic approach. He was determined to join a government hospital and be posted in some forsaken village. This sort of behavior would definitely be termed as “ersatz” in this mechanized ambience. His retrospective parentage could not justify such vehement discrepancy in his character. They tried a bit of retardation technicalities citing examples of poverty. The never-yielding soul refuted. He renounced his luxuries and off went to Sundarban. Only objective was to serve the people, desperately in need.
A peal of thunder inaugurated a new phase in the Doctor’s life. His absentmindedness had gained another dimension. The patient was gone and he did not even notice. He was relieved. Once again, he drifted away.
Sunderbans was harsh as expected. A span of three months, which rusted his ironical youth. The youth, which could have been utilized in, amassing as much as possible and establishing a happy materialistic family. Yes, it is true. He had a lover. A love-lust amalgamation. The girl too is a doctor. She preferred a branded hospital. Repulsion. The sole complication was one missed period, which was an outcome of an unprepared night. Anyway, He paid for the abortion. Being the only son of a competent stock-broker has its own set of pros(and cons). That was the only sin, he dared to commit. The last time he saw the girl was in the hospital, post-abortion. The mixed stare of disgust, detestation, disgrace and the most effective love. He camouflaged his share of emotions.
A phone ring helped the Doctor regain his senses. He refused to answer. Gulped in some water and started for his car. The swanking second-hand-decade-old Maruti 800.
After serving Sunderbans, he was transferred to Midnapore. A township where people know the market price of an M.D. This helped him earn a lot of respect. He transcended the hospital single-handedly. The amount of funds rose considerably. He refrained from getting addicted to extravagances. Thereby, he used to donate a lump sum portion of his salary and stuck to a bare minimum. It took four years and an ocean of compassion to reach the pedestal of a ‘demigod’.
The Doctor netted the ball. He was detached, in this forsaken land. Faraway from the maddening crowd. The patient rekindled some of his extinguished emotions. Today, he craved for a bit of recklessness. Felt the dash and balm of his lover’s stare. Beyond the veneer of vanity and economy, a girl wailed for him. A desperate crippled lover, whose feeble pleas were specious enough for this humanitarian to ignore. Today, he wanted to relish that love. The nincompoop father failing to recognize his son’s broadmindedness. The demigod’s final ride through the most intimate causeway of his mind manufactured a few tiny droplets, which trickled down his wrinkled cheek. The death of his mother happened when he was eight. He blamed the money-thirsty hounds who are better known as “doctors”. His father pledged to accumulate an immense fortune, which would last three generations. On a contrary, he did just the opposite. That incident shaped up his altruism and a voluntary visage. His stoic cocoon was now shedding. The cancer-inflicted patient has stirred up his forlorn spirit.
Next morn, another rendezvous with the same pessimistic patient. Uneasiness crept in. The ruddy eyes of the patient hinted at his insomnia. Their face-off would have been a bit more drastic if the patient wouldn’t have asked the most foolhardy question, “Just six months! “.
This statement was like a medium to attain a state of incredulous tears. The façade has evaporated. Just then, his father called. The infuriating 10 digits always led to a fit of supreme professionalism. Today, an unconventional zeal manifested the obscured-humanity in the otherwise stoned baritone.
“Hello father, I was about to give you a call….just to say…..I have six more months, not a second less”
“….brightest of the lot,” ended Professor Munshi, then H.O.D of the Doctor. Munshi was the most profound admirer of him. He was especially impressed by his dogmatic approach. He was determined to join a government hospital and be posted in some forsaken village. This sort of behavior would definitely be termed as “ersatz” in this mechanized ambience. His retrospective parentage could not justify such vehement discrepancy in his character. They tried a bit of retardation technicalities citing examples of poverty. The never-yielding soul refuted. He renounced his luxuries and off went to Sundarban. Only objective was to serve the people, desperately in need.
A peal of thunder inaugurated a new phase in the Doctor’s life. His absentmindedness had gained another dimension. The patient was gone and he did not even notice. He was relieved. Once again, he drifted away.
Sunderbans was harsh as expected. A span of three months, which rusted his ironical youth. The youth, which could have been utilized in, amassing as much as possible and establishing a happy materialistic family. Yes, it is true. He had a lover. A love-lust amalgamation. The girl too is a doctor. She preferred a branded hospital. Repulsion. The sole complication was one missed period, which was an outcome of an unprepared night. Anyway, He paid for the abortion. Being the only son of a competent stock-broker has its own set of pros(and cons). That was the only sin, he dared to commit. The last time he saw the girl was in the hospital, post-abortion. The mixed stare of disgust, detestation, disgrace and the most effective love. He camouflaged his share of emotions.
A phone ring helped the Doctor regain his senses. He refused to answer. Gulped in some water and started for his car. The swanking second-hand-decade-old Maruti 800.
After serving Sunderbans, he was transferred to Midnapore. A township where people know the market price of an M.D. This helped him earn a lot of respect. He transcended the hospital single-handedly. The amount of funds rose considerably. He refrained from getting addicted to extravagances. Thereby, he used to donate a lump sum portion of his salary and stuck to a bare minimum. It took four years and an ocean of compassion to reach the pedestal of a ‘demigod’.
The Doctor netted the ball. He was detached, in this forsaken land. Faraway from the maddening crowd. The patient rekindled some of his extinguished emotions. Today, he craved for a bit of recklessness. Felt the dash and balm of his lover’s stare. Beyond the veneer of vanity and economy, a girl wailed for him. A desperate crippled lover, whose feeble pleas were specious enough for this humanitarian to ignore. Today, he wanted to relish that love. The nincompoop father failing to recognize his son’s broadmindedness. The demigod’s final ride through the most intimate causeway of his mind manufactured a few tiny droplets, which trickled down his wrinkled cheek. The death of his mother happened when he was eight. He blamed the money-thirsty hounds who are better known as “doctors”. His father pledged to accumulate an immense fortune, which would last three generations. On a contrary, he did just the opposite. That incident shaped up his altruism and a voluntary visage. His stoic cocoon was now shedding. The cancer-inflicted patient has stirred up his forlorn spirit.
Next morn, another rendezvous with the same pessimistic patient. Uneasiness crept in. The ruddy eyes of the patient hinted at his insomnia. Their face-off would have been a bit more drastic if the patient wouldn’t have asked the most foolhardy question, “Just six months! “.
This statement was like a medium to attain a state of incredulous tears. The façade has evaporated. Just then, his father called. The infuriating 10 digits always led to a fit of supreme professionalism. Today, an unconventional zeal manifested the obscured-humanity in the otherwise stoned baritone.
“Hello father, I was about to give you a call….just to say…..I have six more months, not a second less”
Saturday, November 7, 2009
"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.
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.
Monday, November 2, 2009
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. :)
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. :)
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
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.
P.S: Its better not to draw conclusions as it’s a general ordinary narrative piece.
Friday, September 18, 2009
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
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
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)