One Wish!

One wish, just?

Alright.

Listen to me, here.

Melt me into him,

God, whoever you are!

আমার সন্তান যেন থাকে দুধে-ভাতে

বরং -

বর্ম খুলে রাখব তোমার পায়ে,

বা যদি চাও, 

ঈশ্বর ডাকো যাকে।

ঘুণাক্ষরেও বুঝতে দেবো না, জেনো -

ঈশ্বর মানিনা আমি, 

শুধু মানি - আপনাকে।

Rest in peace, Nirbhaya. We will not.

This poetry has been published in the anthology "She The Shakti" which can be purchased HERE!

------------------------------------

I can't say why - 

But have you not noticed too?

That,

Decembers...

These days..

They got colder

Colder than before

Colder than ever

colder in a different way?

It is a chill of another kind - 

Oh, it is! It is!

অতলের পথে...

অন্তর্নিহিত শূন্যতাই হোক 

অথবা, অতল খাদ।

ডুবুরিদের বোলো,

শ্বাস চেপে তুলে আনে যেন 

প্রাণ -

নির্মোহ, নিস্পন্দ,

ঝিনুক আঁটা মুক্তোর মতো, স্থির।

Teenyweeny Series: Over Coffee!

The alarm went off in it's soothing, tinkling tone. It rose in volume over the moments it was left to ring, until he finally gave in.

He opened his eyes to the bright blue morning and turned to his side. Either side. He now slept right at the middle of the bed, and enjoyed the space on either side. The barrenness, the freedom.

He patted the pillow cover straight, and then stretched his hands to tuck the corners of the bed-sheet towards his head. This was a regular affair before he left his bed everyday.

On his way to the washroom, he picked up his toothbrush from its stand, laid a thick layer of toothpaste atop it and carried it along.

Fifteen minutes later he came out, leaving behind the gushing sound of water that filled the cistern back. 

He now moved towards the kitchen. Collected the saucepan, poured some water in it, reached out to the upper row of the kitchen rack for his mug and the row below that for a spoon to mix things with. He got the milk from the fridge. The other ingredients were laid neatly in bottles, clearly marked by their contents, one beside another, on the base of the window right next to the oven.

He made himself a cup of coffee. He carried the mug to the living space and laid himself on the easy-chair, legs stretched, slowly sipping in it. Like every day.

....

The care he took, the attention he gave, the touch that warmed these left behinds - the pillow cover, the bed sheet, the toothbrush holder, the fridge, the kettle, the oven, and even the chair that he sat upon - if only he could spare some of it on the one who actually left them behind, they wouldn't have been left behinds at all.

...

Over coffee... wasn't that how they had met, exactly a decade back? - She sighed a smile, musing over this, a coffee cup in her hand, his picture printed all over it.

....

Tooth fairy - Episode 1

Myra was newest of the lot, and youngest. It was her first assignment. A little girl of nine had lost her one of her teeth last night, as said the record-book. She was fend to fetch it against a surprise token of 10$ for gift.


She was also nine years old herself , but she had never known what losing teeth could be like. Fairies do not lose tooth, her Mom had said when she asked.

It was a stormy night, and soon as she got going down the clouds, the clouds changed their colours to grey and then to black. They roared in thunderstorm and burned in  lightening, and little Myra lost her way. But then, she was a brave, little girl, and she never wanted to return home unsuccessful on her very first assignment. So, she held out her little wand to show her the path, and kept climbing down her way. The clouds she stepped on were quickly melting and forcefully dripping down their way to the earth in loud, deafening splatters. She kept moving, careful from the electric of the lightening and the turmoil of the water waves as the clouds hit against each other with roaring vengeance.

She finally found her way to the earth.

She landed on the rooftop of the house and then crawled down from the sun shade. She quietly slipped her way through the window pane. It was an easy task for a fairy, though her Mom told her that humans cannot do the same. They cannot pass through the opaque and have doors to houses to let them get in and out of them. Funny, she thought to herself.

She tip-toed to the inside of the house. From the little she could make out, it looked like an old house with many rooms. The record-book said it's a red brick-house, double-storeyed, with pictures of sun and rainbow on the walls of the room where the girl sleeps. There, that way seemed the bed-room; though it was all dark and she couldn't really be sure. She could neither make out the colour of the wall or the paintings, if any, on them.

But then, she could not return empty hands, could she? - she told herself yet again. And so, she stepped further into the house.

Clink! Sounded something metallic, as she stepped on it. Oh, she go to be more careful! She took a few more cautious steps, slower this time.

She finally entered the room. In the flash of a lightening she could make out a large bed positioned at about the center of the room, and a small bed-side table just beside it. She could also vaguely make out a short human figure cuddled on the bed, tucked in a blanket, deep asleep.

She slowly stepped towards the table. Maybe this's where she should start from. There, a glass jar filled with water, and through it shines what she has been looking for. Oh, it's such an easy job! -  she eagerly steps forward and grins to herself.

She quickly wears her hand gloves, brings out her silk pouch, puts the shining white enamel into it and zips her purse. Before she tiptoes back and steps out of the window, she doesn't forget to leave the precious 10$ note in a pink envelope atop the pillow on which the girl is fast asleep. There, her job is done! She gallops her way up the clouds, smiling ear to ear at her first success.


xxxx


Sneak-peek into Episode 2...

It isn't until the next morning that she realises it!..........................................

ভাইফোঁটা

- তোমাকে ফোঁটা দিলে তুমি কি দেবে?

- কিচ্ছু না...

- সেকি কেন?

A Loss called Home

It has been a long day today - she thought in her mind - waving her hand mindlessly in the direction of the stray autos that whizzed her past on the highway. Some had passengers, some went empty, some didn't want to take one as they announced their close of day to themselves. Close of day it was, as the hand of the watch crossed eight and steadily moved closer to nine as did the colour of the sky, from dark to darker. 

It indeed was one of those days that she couldn't wait to go home.

As with every regular day, she finally had her turn of luck with transport after the usually long and impatient wait-time, and cutting through the ruthless traffic and the foul traffickers of the city, she finally reached in front of their community gate and heaved a sigh of relief.

Home, ah! Home. Finally.

My “Room”

Now I know - it’s consistent. The hallucination bit.

Last time when I was put to sleep, medically, I had had a strange experience. Strange - in lack of a better word. Strange - to make it brief. Strange - to not confuse myself again, perhaps.

Yes, it was the time I gave birth. The first time I was put to sleep, medically.

Shubho Bijoya!

- Not done!

- Why?

- Well, you know!

- What?

- Why can't I do the kolakuli I want most?

- Do!

- What rights do I have?

- I grant you the right.

- And for how long?

- Until you want to free yourself.

- Sigh.

- What?

- Well, that's for me. And for you?

- Grant me the right.

- I do.

- What?

- I grant you all the right that I have left with myself.

- Shubho Bijoya.

- Shubho Bijoya, dearest.

Orkut... Au Revoir!

I lived a life in Orkut. Looking back, I can even call it a lifetime in its own. I found friends, soulmates, anchors. I found people who I then thought I can never live without.

Sigh! Some stayed, some went, some, I left. But orkut did shape the me that I am now!

RIP, friend.

But Orkut Friends, we'd rock still, won't we? :)

Of confessions...

Google had once played a game. I don't know who coded it, if at all. But that, that game, had coded my life. I believed it to be destiny.

I surrendered to it. In the richest and the poorest form of submission that has ever been.

Sigh!

Destiny, it was. But how!

এখনও আছে আগুন

ক্লান্ত ছিলে।

ছায়া দিতে চেয়ে
বনস্পতি সেজেছি,
নিবিড়ে ঢেকেছি শুকনো কাঠ খড় যত
স্নিগ্ধতায়।

কল্পতরু সেজেছি
তোমার জন্য।

নিজেকে বদলে 
নিয়েছি -
নিজেকে ছেঁকে 
দিয়েছি -

সাজিয়েছি নারীর সাজে
নিজেকে।

কারণ -
পুরুষ ডাকটা আজও তোমার বড় প্রিয়।

দুর্বল বলে ভুল করো নি তো, তুমি?

অসহায় ভেবে -
অথবা, নেহাতই মূর্খ?

করো না ভুল।

আমার এই রূপ -
আমার স্বেচ্ছারোপিত,
জেনো।

জেনো,
এখনো বারুদ জমে আছে -
এখনো আছে আগুন।

জেনো,
এখনো জ্বালিয়ে দিতে পারি আসমুদ্র -
পারি, দাবানল।

অথবা,
আপাদমস্তক -
নিজেকে,
এবং -
তোমাকে।

শুধু ভালোবাসাকে আমি আজও ঈশ্বর মনে করি।

করবও - আজীবন।

আর তাই,

বাসবো আবারও ভালো -
তোমাকেই,

এবারে - আগুন নিয়ে।

HOK...HOK...HOKKOLOROB

A day spent almost entirely on Facebook and television, sobbing, wiping tears.

Tears of pride, tears of joy. Of hope. And all that.

We are. We still are.

Oh that simple yet boldest revelation!

We may not be safe. We never would be. But then, there will be people. I am still sobbing, whispering this to myself to sleep.

Thank you, Us! Thank you!

#hokkolorob

PS: This day will go down in history. It will.

Babel Fish - Episode 2

Read EPISODE 1 here.


I step a step closer, and then yet closer, and it isn’t exactly my mind but rather my hand - my right hand - that does what all it does next. That is, it pulls out the small fishing spoon-net from the box stuck away behind the aquarium, removes the brown plastic roof of the glass-box, dips it inside the water, and waves it to and fro. Somewhat mindlessly. 

I mean, since when did hands have minds?

Babel Fish - Episode 1

Hi, there! – A rather cheerful voice quirps.

I look around. I have hardly opened my eyes now, and the voice is both unfamiliar and impractical.

As I am sleeping all by myself. So it’s just a flickering semi-dream, the sound. I tell myself and turn and try to go to sleep again.

Hey, it’s morning! – This time, it startles me.

I remove the blanket and half-raise my upper body and look around. I still cannot figure out from where it  came. Or, if it at all did, really.

I look hard, everywhere.

Here, here! Look to your right.

My list of Turn-offs

LIST OF TURN-ONs, in case you haven't read it!


As promised, I come with my list of turn-offs in men. Something that will surely interest much fewer, predictably! :/

1.       Stock brokers

There are men. And then, there are men who understand money. Way too much. They understand where money lays egg the best, and the climatic conditions and the hatchery et al. Better than anything.

I understand them very less. Appreciate, lesser!

2.       Decision makers

This one’s tricky. And one of fine balance. There is a kind who makes decisions for you. And those, who jump to conclusions. Well, I don’t like them meek and weak, but then, don’t I just love to blabber too? So, I get itchy when faced with people who’re like – “So, this is this and that is that. Next?”

3.       “Come, fall in love” people

They’ll do all they can. ALL. Online, Offline. Trust me. Only to end with taking an upper hand and saying… well, not saying anything.  Just for the love of it.

Somehow, flirting doesn’t have a clear definition and neither does it fall under sadism. It very well could.

4.       “Girls are from Venus” people

Trust me, we are just normal people. Just for a few anatomical differences. Insignificant they should be, unless you aren’t going to bed or fancying to. And even if significant, under the alternative condition that is, we still are normal people.

And no, it doesn’t contradict the point above. Not at all. You can also be just normal, you know!

5.       Office politicians

Stay away from them. Period.

(If they let you, that is, though.)

Bonus entry:

Leave it. Too many!

A strange role-play.

- What is God?


- I don't know. i knew for only those few minutes, that i was very peacefully aware that i hold all the power and i am giving shelter to all these people and they are chanting hymns for me. Not just chanting... they are very happy to have me for their god. A state of total submission.


- What is being God like?


- To be very confident and knowledgeable of the power that you hold.. Which is all the power that is there in the whole of universe.. But neither are others envious of your power, nor are you proud! It’s a very responsible kind of holding power.
…do you believe me?


- I completely do. Can you handle it, the power?


-Thanks :) Yes. That's why i said - knowledgeable, confident, responsible. And at peace with the power


- Was it a happy thing?


- Yes. Both me holding it and that sea of people giving that to me - both the sides were just equally happy about it. But then, I don't know what the next scene could be like. I just lived that one scene.


- If you had died then, would you have died happy?


- Yes. YES.

My list of Turn-Ons

This has also been published in World of Moms!


Suddenly in a romantic mood, me. 

Well, not romantic exactly. Flirtatious, rather.

So, what do you do when you are thirty-three, married, and a mother of one, and have already noticed the two grey strands as you combed your hair in the morning while rushing for office, and yet cannot but feel flirtatious one fine evening?

Well, you make a list.

Yes.

Who knows, there can well be a next life somewhere sometime, and if your folks remember to bury you along with the list you make today (yes, I refuse to be burnt) you may even find it handy then. Less likely, someday your daughter may need this list for herself. 

Or whatsoever.

But here, I feel flirtatious now, and given my circumstances,  all I can do is make a list. So I will.

Now, coming to the point. What are the things that turn me on in a man?

(Yes, I am heterosexual. Just saying. I don't like guesses.)

1.     First and foremost – Baritone voice

Oh, that’s a killer. Deceptive, yes, but still. I can give up all my demands for looks and intelligence and intellect and poetry writing and reading that a man must, must have, if only he has a voice baritone enough to make up for all that. 

Well, almost!

+ 10 if speaks good English

+ 50 if knows good poems by heart

- 20 if speaks with strong accent

- 50 if the accent is fake

2.     Checked shirts

This one is easy, but a sure win. Checked shirts are sexy. Period.

            + 20 for blue, green, white

            +10 for brown, grey

            + 25 for black and white

 - 50 for fluorescent colours

3.     Moderately tall guy. Five feet eight to five feet ten.

The exact height at which, if we hug, I reach.. well you know! I like that. :/

4.     Frames.

What’s a man without large spectacles and a changed look when you take them off?

+ 5 for rimless ones (are rimless glasses called frames at all?)

+ 10 for Black or Brown frames

+ 15 for thick frames

- 50 for any other colours

5.     Keyboards

I somehow get very impressed when someone don’t have to reach out for the mouse at all while doing stuff at the computer. Very!

+ 10 if also good with writing magical Microsoft Access codes, ones that makes humans redundant at office save for security guards and tea-boys.

- 20 If uses terrible combination on colours on tables or graphs

+ 50 if the cartoons on the Microsoft Powerpoint slides gets across the messages better than the words on them, and with a twist.

Bonus entry –

Putting a hand on my head. Staying there. Like that. For a long, long time. 

(That makes up for most of the above.)

So much for my list. 

What’s yours?

PS: Just as I finish typing this on my handheld and am getting off the cab with a customary "thank-you", comes a "welcome Ma'am" in a, well, noticeably nice voice. Erm, the driver in a checked shirt. And just as I  walk towards the elevator, musing that I should add this fact as a post-script to my this post, comes a "Good evening man" from the security guard. Yup. Checked shirt, thick rimmed black frames. There you go!

PPS: List of Turn-Offs. Coming soon!

PPS: List of Turn-Offs. Came!

Just Friends - II

I wish I could say to you, we’ll always be friends.

But you must know that we cannot; and why.

When I’ll ever meet you, I don’t think I can take your hand in a light friendly grip and then let go. I cannot but take another step closer and put my head on your shoulder, and stay like that until you move.

But yes, we can avoid seeing each other in person. We can still stay in touch. Of course!

You know what? You need to remember the face of the person you are friends with. But then, I cannot see your face anymore when I try to. I close my eyes, and the soft of your chest covers up my face and my neck and my whole, so that I can see nothing! I only smell your smell.

Cave...

There's a cave inside her heart. A cave, deep and dark.

She never had let anyone in there.

Once when she had...

Love? This.

Day 30 - My hopes for my blog

Someday, when Dhopash is all grown up and has her babies etc., she would read out her childhood stories from my blog to them and remember me fondly.

Someday, they'd connect all of it and understand me in a way they now don't.

The chaos in my mind, someday, will lead to something worthwhile reading, and fingers crossed, printing.

Someday!

Day 29 - A confession

I was not there to buy any books.

Day 28 - Most embarrassing moment!

Rickshaw.

Enough said!

Day 27 - What's in my closet

My real spirit.

Something I have stopped revealing or listening to years ago. Something I have possibly started revealing and listening to again, quite recently. Something so fiercely powerful that I myself am not quite sure of what would happen if I set it free.

Day 26 - My hidden talent

Well, this was “hidden”, until I pen it down.

Now.

Erm… I think I can draw decent cartoons. I write a little, too, as you see here and all over.

So, probably, if you join these two together, I could one day come out with a comic strip. Someday.

I quite could, trust me. I seriously could!

Until then, it would remain a not-more-hidden-but-still-unexplored talent.

Oh, and.. Another wildcard entry -

I think I would make a decent babysitter. Bring 'em on, as many as you wish.

Day 25 - My biggest regret!

(Well, this one will, for a change, be a really real matter. So, just in case you have been following my endless narcissist blabbers for the last so many days of this 30 days’ challenge, while I assure you they’re soon coming to an end, it is also my duty to warn you about this particular one. That, this one I will let to be real one. And serious, therefore.

So, skip or read-and-forget.)

I once had a friend.

Well, let’s take a step back. I have always had friends as everyone else did. With some I had good group-times, with few I had good small group times. With few I even had adventures, like ones where you got to lie to your parents about where you are going and what you are up to. Of course, only until they find it out all themselves, eventually. So, it’s surely not uncommon that I had a friend.

What, however, was uncommon is that this was a different kind of friend.

I won’t get into the description of the kind of friendship we had; I’d neither know where to start or to stop, or telling what would make it adequate. So, I’ll leave it at that.

Only, when I had that friend, I did not need anyone else; to accompany, to tell stuff, to conspire, to share passwords, to sing out of tune or to recite over the phone, to shout at, to cry or laugh aloud with, to express my deepest desires and wildest dreams, all at once. I could just tell everything, EVERYTHING, to that friend. That friend understood, even when I didn’t tell.

I broke that friendship.

Suddenly. Without a warning. Without a parting word. Without a reason, most importantly.

If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have been so miserable today. I know. I just know.

Ask me about my biggest regret?

This!

Day 24 - What attracts me on love

Let's admit, I possibly didn't get the question right.

But as some teachers once told me, if you still have time, never leave a question unanswered. Write something, even if you aren't too sure.

I love the idea of love. The ache, the insomnia, the deprivation, the envy, the insecurity - all of it. I suffer, but not that I'd wish it away.

Like everyone else, or mostly everyone, I have had my share of small and big crushes. Of the grown-up years of my life, I've been in and out. I've been to reserved or shy enough to let it pass, I've been shameless enough to drop hints at every chance, I've been hypocrite enough to admit it not even to myself,  I've been coward enough to shudder away and then give in.

But all in all, it's worth it all!

Too serious, eh? :)

Day 23 - If I won the lottery

I'd first clear all the loans. Then, put away a corpse for Dhopash's education, medical exigencies, rainy days. And fix some amount to guarantee a fixed monthly income which should cover the standard expenses and fees.

Then, hopefully with quite some peace of mind, I'll take the plunge.

Or, will I dare, even then?

Day 22 - My worst habits

To not tell people who I love, that I do.

To not tell people who I hate, that I do.

Yes, quite stupid that is!

Day 21 - What makes me sad

Songs, such as this!

What makes me happy!

These are a few of my favourite things...

Sports activities... you know!

Cliff jumping

Bowling

Bunjee jumping 

Paragliding

Cricket, erm!

Water-skiing

.....and then, for a change,

Staying in hotels such as this... with three walls for glasses overlooking the sea!

Visiting a church... 

Musing by the sea, all by myself...

Quite time with Nature...

But not quite!

Old pals!

Ice-creams, of course!

Jewelry, for a buy (hardly for a wear)

Snugging a puppy!

Puppies, puppies... (do you think they'll let me keep me one, ever?)

Hogging... Hogging...

Let loose, once in a while!

And making it up with a peaceful napping (snapping) on a hammock... (I know it's torn, but nevermind!)

Streams...

And rivers!

Such as Jhelum, at Pahalgam.

 Fishing...

And fishing...

Enough said!

But this. O yes!

Swimming pools, at standing heights!

Holidaying :)

Paint my walls (I can't afford a painter, but that's fine!)

Or, when I run out of walls, paper...

Or, wood.

Or, after running out of everything, watch Dhopash paint.

And playing colours, otherwise as well!

An occasional dance recital. Occasional, as in, once in twelve years!

These days, it extends to watching Dhopash perform too...

Playing with Dhopash, despite my spine!

Kids - more, the merrier!

 Hear Dhopash strum and sing all at once...

Watch 'em play! 

- do -

When both of us read, peaefully!

Or when she is at her easel...

See her perform...

Or just catching up, about the cruel, cruel world...

Reading, of course!

...and, of course, SNOW!!