Ageing is a difficult process and I didn't even know when it slowly crept up my neck and entered my brain cells.
This year has been crazy. I still can't believe it's over. I still can't believe things were so different last year.
Like a storm everything turned upside down, then there was calm, then I saw the light.
Little T is dead, he sailed away with the water. I know he's around, smoking one of his fat doobies. It's just an illusion that he went up in flames. I know you're around. I'm sorry I was rude the last time I met you, but you know.
I'm glad I still have people around me who matter. Then there are some who don't anymore.
I am glad that me and you are awesome friends. I'm glad we know each other inside out. I'm glad you have found someone to be insane with. You are one of the best people ever. And don't change too much.
And I found you, in this strange place, strangely, fit into you like I should have maybe. I promise to be your strength, as you are mine. I promise not to let the world come between us. It's our sky.
I feel closer to the parents than ever before. I think they are the best people on earth. It's not that I don't get annoyed, but still they are rock solid quirky people who brought me up. That must have been quite a lot of effort!
It's been a long trip. Let's see where it all goes from here.
Be good people, and make those resolutions, whether you keep them or not.

"Once upon a time, there was Candy and Dan. Things were very hot that year. All the wax was melting in the trees. He would climb balconies, climb everywhere, do anything for her, oh Danny boy. Thousands of birds, the tiniest birds, adorned her hair. Everything was gold. One night the bed caught fire. He was handsome and a very good criminal. We lived on sunlight and chocolate bars. It was the afternoon of extravagant delight. Danny the daredevil. Candy went missing. The days last rays of sunshine cruise like sharks. I want to try it your way this time. You came into my life really fast and I liked it. We squelched in the mud of our joy. I was wet-thighed with surrender. Then there was a gap in things and the whole earth tilted. This is the business. This, is what we're after. With you inside me comes the hatch of death. And perhaps I'll simply never sleep again. The monster in the pool. We are a proper family now with cats and chickens and runner beans. Everywhere I looked. And sometimes I hate you. Friday -- I didn't mean that, mother of the blueness. Angel of the storm. Remember me in my opaqueness. You pointed at the sky, that one called Sirius or dog star, but on here on earth. Fly away sun. Ha ha fucking ha you are so funny Dan. A vase of flowers by the bed. My bare blue knees at dawn. These ruffled sheets and you are gone and I am going too. I broke your head on the back of the bed but the baby he died in the morning. I gave him a name. His name was Thomas. Poor little god. His heart pounds like a voodoo drum."

Yet there's no one to beat you no one to defeat you except the thoughts of yourself feeling bad

Only one teaspoon of sugar

You were sitting idle, staring at the computer screen intently. I sat near your leg with a newspaper, pretending to read. Something was bothering you. Your eyes were distant, little beads of sweat formed on your nose.

She sauntered in, tall, quite big, a gentle smile playing around her lips. We looked up, startled. I refused to acknowledge her presence. I excused myself and went out for a walk. Bought my favourite coffee, smoked a cigarette. Humming a tune, I stepped on the sidewalk, crushing a few dry leaves under my feet.

 I wondered what you two were talking about.  Maybe you were looking at her, admiring the curve of her cheek. Maybe your fingers brushed against hers as you served her tea.  Maybe you were dissecting current world politics.

She looks at you lovingly, holding your gaze. You brush aside your meandering thoughts. You are determined to be in love with me.

I walk back slowly, impatiently pushing truant strands of hair away from my forehead.

You smile at me. “Where were you? I was waiting for you.” I look around the room, sniffing discreetly for a whiff of  her fragrance. You look at me strangely, “Are you okay?”, you ask, touching my chin.

I move away, a little ashamed, a little surprised.

Where is my mind

November, starkly different from the previous year, but December is almost here. The slightest hint of winter is disconcerting. Want more, want more.
No angst, so no rant. So zen i surprise and scare myself. Zen is an antagonist. I can never be zen.
Nightime collagemaking is the best thing in the world, post refrigerator raid.
Watched Dick Tracy yesterday. Such magnificent sets. Strange, nice.
Oh, and I love sparring with you. I feel alive, sparkly.

I wish I could write more, but no.


Ta.

What to believe, what ideas to discard? Too much meat to create one big fat lie and difficult to give up on your own fiction.
A few songs, a few movies, a few adored names, a few hastily read lines, and you were created.
Presently, you refuse to leave, presently wisps of your character collides violently with my well-loved, well-comforted, well-nourished soul.
Poor you, unaware, in your own little world.

Letter

Last winter, you and I were loafing around a cinema. We were warily glaring at cops and I remember you said something nice. We drank awful milky coffee and bumped into people we knew.
Last winter I met you for the first time. Liked you instantly. You reminded me of someone I adored, one of mine, who does not belong anymore, someone who decided not to belong. Decided I was too inconsistent to be her friend.
You and your schizophrenic conversations. Your tears, your drama. Your constant need to discard, to be merciless. I liked being with you however. I liked how lazy moments spun new thoughts, I liked eating out of boxes, I liked falling asleep suddenly. I liked our strange friendship, till you decided to push too hard.
And you, something about you I loved to love.  I liked our conversations, I liked your room floor. But you moved away with time and a precious piece of me.
I miss you, our pointlessness, our intense friendship, the blankets, the laughter. I'm grateful you're still around.
You, who I kissed one drunken night, without a thought, a care, and then cried guilty and heartsick. You don't exist.
Your grin disarms me even now. I dream of it sometimes, and wake up, alarmed. Then, as familiar noises fill my ears, I lie back with a sigh.
I miss you too, my brother, my own. And you little funny clown, with a golden heart.
You, young boy, you are wonderful, with your curly mop and songs and dreams, so similar to ours, old like the scattered us, stretched over these years.
You are special, you were perhaps meant to be mine. You who walked in like a storm on a still day - and I exploded. I need you, I want to be around you, to look at you, touch your nose, feel your gentle breathing against my skin, hold you as you thrash around in your sleep. I need to be your story, the most significant one.

I wish I gave myself a chance. To see, explore, rise above my mind. I never listen. I don't really know what's in store. 

Acrid, sweet September. Strange, almost prophetic weather. Destroying cells, biting asses. 

As expected, I'm okay. Lying on my back, inhaling love. Chasing fictitious mice, leisurely chewing on cloth. 

so what do you think
i know your brain's buzzing
with stories old and new
strangely it's like a riddle

what happened to the times i thought i knew
everything about everything

my blood honeys
i turn into a monkey
keyed into you, fitting
like glove, aftertaste of cinnamon

travelling with love
i leaped and jumped and found

our synchronised breathing, like the wheels of a caravan. 

I took a leap of faith.

I think of you occasionally. I miss your laughter. 

I like my hair blowing around my face, and settling down slowly. 

I feel crazy, as the world changes around me. 

It's nice, our eulogies are the same.

We can connect the dots and move across the universe. 

How to?
How to?

You come and go as you please, elusive night star

And I sway with you, your whims

I had a ball, I must say, with new love on my branch,

Friends, laughter, music and a fast, fast life.

I will remember and cherish every glorious morning and night

Every moment of camaraderie, every note of music, every doodle

And yes, my selfish love

Stands out like shiny green ink on a fresh new page.

I am not scared of losing this game anymore.

Humour will stand me in good stead.

Lonely nights, I won’t dread,

Will welcome them instead, with their dark cloaks and messy hair.

I wish my throat could swallow the hurt.

I wish I had the brains to analyse complex situations,

I wish you were ok, I wish you were here,

I wish you wouldn’t love me this madly.

I am just trouble.

afraid to break some bones?

Am I right in the things I am thinking, should I be even allowed to dream a little dream, sing a little song, hop skip jump fly taste?

I have a sun in my heart, shining crazily but I don't know what to do with it.
I have a friendly green monster to tame in my soul.

I think of you, your heart-shaped scar, but I let you fly away in bits.
I lie next to you, hearts beating in unison, dreams in focus, a whole lot of love.

Nowadays, I keep breaking into little pieces, as my best friends sail away. I feel rootless. I feel like scampering away to nowhere, where nothing can hurt. 

Come with me

Baby, are you running away, slowly, surely, peeling off skin and more skin?

Dusting off gathered dust, wiping the grime off my brow?

Bare boned beauty, I didn’t want this. I didn’t see your storm, the potential, the immense danger.

Yesterday, I cried over lost love, cried over a faraway soul sister.

Special places slowly fade, special places glow in the dark,

Like a million fireflies clustered together, dying together.

I would like to be your little darling; I would like to be my own too.

I don’t need my head to spin faster than this.

What do you think of me now, destroyed?

Do you want to be a pretty boy in my pretty, picturesque life?

I needed to mourn, needed to alter slightly, but we started walking.

And wave after wave crashed on the shore.

I swung back, feeling tiny, elated, sad.

I embrace the new, the wonderful

My heart warms inside

But I can’t stop these images inside my head.

Blurry, technicolour,

Like three years zooming past in super quick motion

But I am okay, I have to untwist.

I want to fall more, let myself go slowly,

I want to know you, your stories,

I want to memorise you,

I want to walk with you, take trains with you, read with you,

Feed cats with you, talk for hours with you.

Baby, don’t run away.

Stumble

I don’t know what to make of you.

So new, so alien, yet beautiful

I was falling, swaying with the wind,

I was walking backwards, compelled

To rethink, rearrange, walk into a wall

I wasn’t prepared, in all honesty.

Naked to the bones,

I held my head and moulded it constantly.

I don’t know what happened when

We started running,

Like strange children on a rainy day,

Splashing on puddles, holding hands,

Lisping stories, making faces

I am glad. I am learning to read your face.

Learning something new, something delicious everyday

I pinch myself every morning.

Trace my footsteps back, looking in vain at empty corners

I don’t know what to do about that either.

So much love I float

So much love I laugh

So much love I wonder

How did we stumble upon each other? 

Gone sugar

I would write a hate song if I could, hiss like an angry teapot and weave a tale of decay.

But I really don’t know how to deal with this mess.

I don’t know how to handle this headache, this constant flitting between fury and despair.

You may think its okay, shrug nonchalantly, smile indulgently, or maybe you are an adolescent, a miserable one.

I don’t know. I am not used to heartbreaks.

I miss you, your familiarity, your smell, your stupidity. I miss talking to you, fighting with you.

I knew I could come back home to you, you were a constant in this turbulence.

Now, I swallow gum accidentally, worry about dying from it and I don’t know whom to share it with.

How did it all come apart?

All arguments in my head come undone piece by piece. There’s so much to think of, so many wounds to lick, I don’t know where to begin.

I am trying to run away, savouring the anger, strangers, incessant revelry, and conversations with heart sick sisters.

Once alone, there’s only an acid aftertaste, and an acute sense of abandonment.

I deleted the last post, because inevitably everything's pointless. I don't know if this too shall pass, and i don't know if I can ever be a ball of happiness radiating positive energy.
All I know is that something has broken. Something major has changed. Turned its back.
It's not that i am enjoying this. But I don't know what to do about it.
I wish to be patient, I wish to start liking myself and others around me.
I wish to talk, mystify, have a ball.
I wish to be brave. 

The inside loves drama, the outside detests.
I liked Gigantic for a bit, because of the difference.
Tomorrow is your birthday. I can only sing. As I grow older, your offer so much solace. As i tiptoe over my fears, as i wake up startled from a dream, as i fight existence:

তোমায়     নতুন করেই পাব বলে হারাই ক্ষণে ক্ষণ
ও মোর      ভালোবাসার ধন।
          দেখা দেবে বলে তুমি হও যে অদর্শন,
ও মোর      ভালোবাসার ধন॥
ওগো       তুমি আমার নও আড়ালের,  তুমি আমার চিরকালের--
          ক্ষণকালের লীলার স্রোতে হও যে নিমগন,
ও মোর      ভালোবাসার ধন॥
আমি        তোমায় যখন খুঁজে ফিরি ভয়ে কাঁপে মন--
          প্রেমে আমার ঢেউ লাগে তখন।
তোমার     শেষ নাহি, তাই শূন্য সেজে  শেষ করে দাও আপনাকে যে,
          ওই হাসিরে দেয় ধুয়ে মোর বিরহের রোদন,
ও মোর     ভালোবাসার ধন॥

I was staring at scars some day last week. The woman caught me staring and shot me a glare. I looked away, ashamed.
This new found oldness is comforting, it lulls me to sleep every night. Long before dawn, insects gather at my feet, shadows dance on walls, and unaware, they don't frighten me.
Sometimes, I break the routine, listen to a new song, keep my desk cluttered. Sometimes, I smell your hair differently.

here all the bombs fade away

Sitting around a candle, trying to form a complete sentence. Or, a headache at 5 in the morning, and we wonder aloud.

I really want to go a-travellin. Thinking how to go about it.
few weeks of bumming around, a routine is alluring right n-ow.

bad trip. bad trip. as the bathroom floor swirled around, and giant droplets hallucinated rainbows.

trying to be okay since then.

if you think i am dissociating, it's true.

When we arrive
Sons and daughters
We'll make our homes on the water
We'll build our walls aluminum
We'll fill our mouths with cinnamon now

Norwegian Wood gnawed on my insides. It was a beautiful gnawing, i must say.  It was worth the sweet wait.

Roaming the streets at hours beyond sleep, sun high in the sky. Hungry and feeling slightly askew. My summer fringe is shorter, i like it ahaa-n. Would you like a cup of tea, mister?

Today the lane seemed narrower than ever, and i tried talking to a beautiful grey cat, only to be stared at with great disdain. Floated across the asphalt, then, thinking of a heartbreak. 

full

Train rides are an essential aspect of travelling- staring into the vivid sky and across the green, always a blur of darker green.
Revelry often involves an adamant frog and music which throbs steadily into the tremble of the night. Outside, incessant insect-music and tree-conversations. A bohemian man drinks up the beer, staring at stoned young strangers across the thatched bamboo mat, and insists on talking eloquently. Before the fire crackles and shoots tiny star shaped sparkles into the darkness, something slithers behind the circle making my wretched city-heart shiver.
I smile as we stare into faces, half-known, cosy in our familiarity. Quaint wooden uncomfortable bunk beds filled with the scatter of the temporary, the busy. All our dreams mingle in the ritual mess.
Dusk, we sit on a tractor, filled with sand, jiggling chests, shrieks and thick, still, swirls of smoke from the chillum.
A slow trail of rickshaws, almost a caravan, snakes its way through crumbly red lanes into the heart of a closed market. Fireflies, like stars, pulsate everywhere, lighting up dark trees, and the violet sky dances nimbly, slowly, taking its time like a caress.
Bauls sing known songs, and we stare at the half-moon between two branches, startled as someone unknown, faceless lights a cigarette and his contours slowly become visible.
I sleep happily, in another room, and run through the jungle in the middle of the night. We meet a bunch of snarling langurs sitting close together, and a small one on a tree. I think of a languid hour spent in a circular red room, staring at kindred trees, head resting on my bag, and fold the image carefully away for keepsake.
:)

One, two, three. four

If I have been too presumptuous, I sincerely apologise. Last night was special as I realised how love and hate coexist in different vestibules. I am really sorry if I have hurt you. To put it simply, I think i am finally over this entire mess. but I also want to tell you that once upon a time, ancient as it seems now, I really liked you and considered you to be a friend, and for me, that bond was more special than anything else. (I think the photographs are wonderfully warm, by the way)

Memories are strange, you know, even though you think you have deleted particular depressing blue moments, they suddenly creep up on you and then you can only gasp for breath. 

Right now, what we are doing is more important to me than anything else, and God knows we are working our collective asses off. Yes there are times when we feel that it's not going to happen, we won't be able to do anything, and there'll be no revival whatsoever, but then there are euphoric moments, there are moments after a hard day's work when we sit under our tree, and that huge chunk of hope and happiness engulfs us as we feel, no fuck everyone, this is going to work out, we ARE going to make this happen. And it's so beautiful to see every corner of the country responding to us, and getting ecstatic! I can only feel grateful, cross my fingers and hope not to jinx it. 

As brainscrewed as i am, it felt nice to confess.

"Sweetheart bitterheart now I can't tell you apart
Cosy and cold, put the horse before the cart

Those teenage hopes who have tears in their eyes
Too scared to own up to one little lie

Oh, you're changing your heart
Oh, you know who you are"

....................................................................

as a friend said that day: tooo much dramatixx! :D

hey hey hey hey.

To much drama happening! haha. but i stand my ground firmly. Anyone can justify anything, like I can say er, that I can talk to people without an actual conversation happening,. like ourminds are speaking over tens and thousands of currents, or suchlike. I can't be vicious after a certain point, extremely stoned right now. And, well, what i have understood is that some people never change, and well, they are not meant to! Such sincere hatred for noone else in this world. you coward, hope an annoying orange nibbles your brain into tiny pieces.

okay, this is going nowhere
love

Every spring reminds me of the time in school when the tree outside my window started sprouting scarlet flowers, and it was examtime, and always always a bunch of new books from the book fair lying around tempting me to run to the bathroom, sit on the pot for ages and read, read. Or that time when the chhaad in Bijoygarh was ideal for daydreaming, and the cuckoos used to go crazy singing to the tunes inside our heads.
And then stolen hojmi and kaancha aam from Shreo's neighbour, and staying at her house for weeks, and giggling at night over a crush on a class six senior.
Now, there are only  memories, and a tremendous sadness tugs at my throat, and I know the world's all fucked up, it's all strange. 

Call this shameless publicity, but i would still love you people if you would read my scribbles here: http://www.ujaanfestival.org/blog/ Support this cause, and gear up for the festival- with lots of sun, great music, beautiful people, and fresh local seafood! Also, I promise to give you candy if you start commenting on that blog, and like my daily updates. Do leave your feedback, and make me a happy girl?

a singularly strange week, as one year leaped to strangle a new one. I might lack coherence, and mutely observe. Forlorn, slightly stoned, mad colours behind my eyes. But, never expected such strength from myself. An almost dying best friend on my lap, speech-slurred, eyes rolled backwards, tiny hands holding my bosom, and the tragic stench of vomit. Surreal night, and you seemed so solid. Hospital action, sick heroic dad, endless caffeine, people people, mad rush of people, dying youth in the nightmarish, very sanitized lift. Blue is the colour of sleep. Blue is the colour of my new found self.