Sunday, March 28, 2010

Oh dear lord. It's the eve of an examination and I've never felt so uninspired. I  have also had three people telling me various unflattering things about myself. I'd have laughed in normal circumstances, but I'm going through a rather bad phase generally, so I've taken the three comments about me to heart. The worst part is, I'm usually quick to retort, but on all three counts I've remained silent out of shock and also because I'm already upset about certain things and a little phased out.

Time to move into a shell therefore and focus on work and studies and just a few people. Yes I know I'm being oversensitive and all of that, but that's all I can handle at the moment and I really don't need naysayers at this juncture of my life.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Notes From my journal

You feel strange. The same way you would probably feel if an invisible hand suddenly reached out and clasped your throat. Those radio jockeys ( the ones you listen to as an afterthought) become your single source of information. Collectively, they rue the lack of fire fighting equipment in Calcutta. 

People jumping off buildings. People bursting into flames. People looking on helplessly.

The firefighters arrive after 85 minutes. You do not know that yet. You read about it in tomorrow's newspapers. 

Marked in beautiful bold letters are cold statistics of warm blood.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

No I don't forgive and forget heartbreaks, even if they happened eons ago. Sorry, no second chances. Don't even try.


As I entered the university gates today, I saw the little black puppy I've come to adore lying spread-eagled on the floor, presumably trying very hard to procure his (rather well deserved) afternoon nap. However, the cries of victory was distracting him and he twitched from side to side, too lazy to move to another corner and too little to voice feeble protest as if to say, "stop it, you're distracting me. Can't you see I'm trying to sleep?"

Red abeer, laughter, tears and sweet enmeshed together while the jheel, with its mucky water was subjected to yet another onslaught of vile colour. 

The policemen* in their yellow ochre robes seemed to be enjoying themselves. A whisper here, a pat on the back there- the scorching afternoon sun it seemed had not dampened anyone's mood. "They're alert, alright," he whispered. " I was there last year. And the year before. The policemen are always here when the votes are counted."

Guitars were played, songs were sung and cigarettes smoked as the afternoon rolled on.

In the evening, the cucumber seller arrived as usual. By then the mirth had subsided and stories were shared, jokes were cracked. 

The evening saw three weary souls stopping for a glass of water, tired but content that the day had come to a close.

*Safdar informs me that the policemen were actually guards and not *real* policemen. They had J.U (acronym for Jadavpur University) pinned onto their shoulders instead of K.P (short for Kolkata Police) *

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Life, as is.

Age : 21

Time : 10.55 a.m

Mood : Pensive

Food : 4 pieces of Guava, One jam toast, three pieces of cucumber.

Reading : Dead Dad Diaries by Lydia Prior.

Sift through grandfather's notebook. Meticulously listed number. Dead friends. Dead relatives. Dead companions. Some names have been scratched out with pencil. Others, too recent to have been left out.

Notice arms and legs. Considerably thinner.

Age : 83

Mood : Relaxed.

Food : One chocolate boat. Struggling to eat. Chewing. failing.

Saturday, March 6, 2010


*At first you'd think that they had nothing, except almost a mile of garbage. Other people's waste. The entire stretch of the enclosed space on the road was strewn with dirt, spit, remnants of someone's breakfast, a banana peel, a toy car, peeled oranges and half of a sequinned scarf. Two street dogs were fighting it out over a toy dog.One of them had successfully managed to tear its head off. The man was hugging, presumably his partner, who wore a saree-blouse and a long swishy red skirt. He was wearing a long black thread on which was hung three sets of keys. Near his heart was a "Free Tibet" badge, attached with a safety pin. On his chest, he had stuck a Trinamul congress flag. He gestured to his female companion and asked her to look up. She smiled and kissed him on the cheek.The two dogs, tired of fighting with each other, slowly inched towards the man and the woman. One dog put his head on the woman's lap while the other nuzzled against the man. Near the enclosed space, I noticed that there was a hoisted flag- an Indian flag.

*None of this is fictional. I saw this at the stretch near Circus Avenue. I'm going back there again tomorrow.