"    ... She was a vacant empty imitation of a writer    "

Its admission season yet again and I see so many very of us with eager eyes... while all of them will cherish the days ahead only a handful will be able to actually relate to their dreams.
While we, rather, I can only pretend to like the place miles away from here and pretend to make the best of friends and pretend to finally own the long dreaded dreams...
The heart that is ashamed still cries for 17 Sarat Bose Road and Gate No. 4
I hope THE girl, my sister that is, makes THE mother proud some day

Time on its merciless wings...

From mono coloured PT frocks to white and blue skirts to the bridal attire...

Mone purano diner kotha ashe

We had a dream... of one such sunday morning
.
.
.
and we relived each and every moment of it... somewhat

I wonder why with every passing day we stop dreaming or stop sharing just for the simple fact that we are not expected to... gone are the days when dreaming was allowed.

And my magicman
I Love You











Obladi oblada life goes on....


There will be one such sunday... one day nishchoi! :) :*

And I say to myself What a wonderful world

I thought you understood. I really did

She got a text from a friend which said "... njeke khb gutiye rkhs jta age rkstis na."
and she for once in her life didn't know how to react and found shelter behind the closed door all alone all by herself... and she cried... yet again... the tears of silence, of happiness for once being understood, of sadness for being misunderstood again.

She cried.

A few years ago I saw a similar photograph of a senior from NLS and was jealous, when I say 'similar', I only mean the fun part and today I actually saw it happening...
Have a wonderful holi everyone

Think school think class viii
REMIX
The one hour everyday
The epic serial as I say
I wonder WHY i liked it back then I wonder WHY don't they have repeat telecasts

The churanto nyaka Tia

The churanto over actor Ashi

The churanto bad actor Yuvi

The churanto nonreal Ranbir

But I Loved them
I still do

I still remember 'duh, bhaggu, puhleez, dude, bimbo, bada' and things like that
My childhood ideas of love and romance
The kisses on foreheads the non acceptances of love
The music
REMIX!

Love Is A Sad Thing

Today a heart broke, dreams newly made were shattered, men were again tagged as dogs.
The same old story

A likes B and B might like A but B might like C and A hates C but still wants to sacrifice for B while B still does small little things for A but "parallel" things for C might be going on which is equal to too much confusion too many teardrops and weird situations

I have always wondered what on earth is the need to fall in and out of love. The love that I've read about is not forgotten after shedding a tear or two, the love does not speak against love once it is not fulfilled, the love does not disappear with new colours glittering on the horizon.
Am I disgustingly orthodox? well yes may be

After spending an entire evening with youtube and sad scenes from various movies... I repeat.
LOVE IS A SAD THING

And I am absolutely in love with Mr and Mrs Debnath
They, after so many years of marriage still have the time, zeal and love to sing songs for each other.
How I wish....

Of all the good and bad things about this couple, in fact the most balanced couple of college, I was absolutely surprised at how the MAN has been missing her.

As I was telling the best friend a while ago, being sappy being neka being disgustingly childish when just the two of you are around is something which every relationship demands and the lack of which brings in voids... it really does... but the fake coat of sugar and public displays of affection, love and hatred are probably the worst things ever... so this is one couple I absolutely respect for the way they are... as of now...

"Distance makes the heart grow fonder"... they say... and I've always thought this is an absolutely wrong statement... distance only creates distances and finally "out of sight out of mind" is what persists unless of course if there is continuous effort to get things on and going  but these small little episodes of detachment and consequent attachment are extremely sweet.

Yes he missed the fest while he was all there and yes she was all here while being there.

God Bless

Much Love

Get Back Together ASAP

Of saying sorry

Over hyped, over rated and over used word.
If I really am I can never say it and keep on saying it whenever I am not although I actually have a problem saying Sorry specially to the ones who ARE important... egoist? a little maybe.

I thought of writing too many things, about too many incidents but
BUNK

here is the chhobi i absolutely loved but bilu baron kore dilo... i loved it... and am absolutely amazed by sandy da's Dark White!

Sexy brishti

The mad woman who keeps on fighting with me day in and out is in love... yet again... and this time I am getting too many laughter sessions and panic pangs each day... good till it lasts but ...
someones inability to take rejection bothers me and there is the elephant god i absolutely hate (JAM) and amidst all this... too much of BLACK does not make my head go round and light...

P.S.- i wrote this yesterday and saved it in drafts... and today after a lovely rain soaked day...
I love Shreemoyee Chakraborty
I dislike the life that somewhat was beautiful.
and Tempo dearest! i miss thou :)

I have always believed that bengali brides look their best on the day after their wedding. The day they leave their their houses forever, the day of unnecessary drama and overacting in certain cases...
With the gaudy and immensely uncomfortable makeup partly erased by the tears and partly half done after the hush hush of the D day the day before... hair loosely tied, chandan done by amateur hands, the slightly tilted mukut, the wrinkled new saari, the eyes with sorrow and happiness merged into one and the all new sindoor's bright crimson effect... somehow these things together makes her divine, makes a bride look her best...
bow down to thee

Bring back the days we lived

When in love we believed

At a fine instance while Oli sheds a tear or two and Rani ma’m walks down the memory lane of making daddy dearest ‘proud’ I wonder if I ever have made or could make anyone proud? Ever?

The answer to which I got a few hours after I reached home… gift wrapped in the word ‘LOSER’

I was? Am? And shall forever be?

Tumi tai tumi tai go