She hopes to see him somewhere someday
Sitting on a porch spinning dreams
When on that summer afternoon
The blue bohemian eyes would finally say
Those wonder words of love
The love that will forever stay
She hopes to see him somewhere someday
On a slippery rainy day
While she would struggle without her umbrella
He would offer to help
And the bad boy would take her over
To the land where dreams lay
She hopes to see him somewhere someday
While the autumn leaves would fall
He would write songs for her
Sing them loud to all
And those magic moments would linger
As far as their cobwebbed memories would crawl
She hopes to see him somewhere someday
Wrapping his arms around her waist
Together surviving the chilled winter
While his strings would play the familiar tune
She’ll blame him of being like the rest
And he would make her believe that this time it’s not grey
She hopes to see him somewhere someday
In rain, snow, sun and storm
And together they’ll sing the happy songs forever
Under the crescent moon and the glittering stars
The day she would actually meet
The blue eyed bad boy with the sitar
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Aratrika
My plane landed 5 minutes ago and here I am, back to the city of joy which did not grant me any. Here I am, back to prove that even “I” can be SOMEONE to my friends and most importantly, to “Aratrika”…
Almost 12 years ago I first saw her, rather, a photograph of hers and I knew she is the one for me. No, she was not beautiful, not even fair, but there was something about her which made me like her and I wanted to be her friend. She was a friend’s friend and by various sources I came to know her, Nabanita Roy, my Aratrika.
Tried being her friend, tried convincing her t be mine, in return, never got any answer but hatred from her and smirks, laughs and ridicule from friends. I, Neeleshwar Ratan was a loser, but I did not give up. At times I felt like one of those cheap guys I forever hated but I could not help myself from liking her. But, the girl who was Nabanita to the world and Aratrika to me did not even bother. The only time she talked to me was when I got the question paper of their annual examination from my brother’s locker who was a teacher in their school and told her the questions. How happy I was when she said a word or few. How much I got insulted when she again started ignoring me once her purpose was served. I spent nights crying, I was dying, and all I wanted was friendship, nothing else, nothing else.
Like every other depressed teenager, I found my solace in drinking, smoking and poems. I wrote many poems under the same title, ‘Aratrika’.
One day, my bhabi showed me a local magazine where ‘Aratrika’ was published, it was bhabi who sent the poems and immediately I got an sms saying, “meet me near the bus stand in half an hour” and then I saw a number which was not saved in my phone but I knew it by heart. “She wants to meet me bhabi, my Aratrika wants to meet me…”
She came and before I could say anything, I saw the magazine in her hand too.
“Who do you think you are?” she said
“But, I, what…”
“Writing such nonsense won’t change anything you moron. Who are you? I mean, who the hell are you? Look at yourself, you neither look god nor are intelligent. You are not my friend, you don’t even know me…” said the girl I thought about always. I knew what she liked, where she went, what she wore. I knew her more than I knew myself. She went on and on and I kept quite.
12 years have passed. Her last words still haunts me, “You don’t deserve me loser…” LOSER, this one word has forever been associated with me. Teachers, friends and her, yes, maybe I was a loser and that day, this loser cursed her, cursed the person I could give my life for. “She won’t ever be happy. NEVER. She’ll be a loner and die off a lonely dearth”- I shouted that day and look at me today, I am Neel, the famous poet, with a wife as beautiful as beauty can be, fans scattered around the globe and today, I am back.
24 hours later…
I am going back, with a heavy and a guilty heart.
I went to her house, it was locked, and most of our common friends were married by now, finding anyone was not easy. I rang the doorbell of their neighbors, at the mention of Nabanita they said “Oh, poor girl, could ever think this would happen to her.” “What happened?” I was getting panicked. “She had some nerve disorder mainly due to loneliness and was shifted to the mental asylum a few years ago but last week she passed away. She ran away from the asylum a week ago her body was found at the Gariahat station. She probably dies out of starvation. She lost all her senses you know…”
Almost 12 years ago I first saw her, rather, a photograph of hers and I knew she is the one for me. No, she was not beautiful, not even fair, but there was something about her which made me like her and I wanted to be her friend. She was a friend’s friend and by various sources I came to know her, Nabanita Roy, my Aratrika.
Tried being her friend, tried convincing her t be mine, in return, never got any answer but hatred from her and smirks, laughs and ridicule from friends. I, Neeleshwar Ratan was a loser, but I did not give up. At times I felt like one of those cheap guys I forever hated but I could not help myself from liking her. But, the girl who was Nabanita to the world and Aratrika to me did not even bother. The only time she talked to me was when I got the question paper of their annual examination from my brother’s locker who was a teacher in their school and told her the questions. How happy I was when she said a word or few. How much I got insulted when she again started ignoring me once her purpose was served. I spent nights crying, I was dying, and all I wanted was friendship, nothing else, nothing else.
Like every other depressed teenager, I found my solace in drinking, smoking and poems. I wrote many poems under the same title, ‘Aratrika’.
One day, my bhabi showed me a local magazine where ‘Aratrika’ was published, it was bhabi who sent the poems and immediately I got an sms saying, “meet me near the bus stand in half an hour” and then I saw a number which was not saved in my phone but I knew it by heart. “She wants to meet me bhabi, my Aratrika wants to meet me…”
She came and before I could say anything, I saw the magazine in her hand too.
“Who do you think you are?” she said
“But, I, what…”
“Writing such nonsense won’t change anything you moron. Who are you? I mean, who the hell are you? Look at yourself, you neither look god nor are intelligent. You are not my friend, you don’t even know me…” said the girl I thought about always. I knew what she liked, where she went, what she wore. I knew her more than I knew myself. She went on and on and I kept quite.
12 years have passed. Her last words still haunts me, “You don’t deserve me loser…” LOSER, this one word has forever been associated with me. Teachers, friends and her, yes, maybe I was a loser and that day, this loser cursed her, cursed the person I could give my life for. “She won’t ever be happy. NEVER. She’ll be a loner and die off a lonely dearth”- I shouted that day and look at me today, I am Neel, the famous poet, with a wife as beautiful as beauty can be, fans scattered around the globe and today, I am back.
24 hours later…
I am going back, with a heavy and a guilty heart.
I went to her house, it was locked, and most of our common friends were married by now, finding anyone was not easy. I rang the doorbell of their neighbors, at the mention of Nabanita they said “Oh, poor girl, could ever think this would happen to her.” “What happened?” I was getting panicked. “She had some nerve disorder mainly due to loneliness and was shifted to the mental asylum a few years ago but last week she passed away. She ran away from the asylum a week ago her body was found at the Gariahat station. She probably dies out of starvation. She lost all her senses you know…”
And after 12 long years, she again made me cry, my ARATRIKA
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
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