i dont blame you if this does not make sense... i wanted this to be somewhere so i put it up here...
written and explained by subhayan after a terrible and misunderstanding wala din
courtesy. fb chat:

"me: so what exactly happened
subhayan:

well, we all(students) went inside to meet apurba saha

that man is a ashlil lok

he was sitting with his tummy out!!

he said at least 3rice "ami onno jogeter lok"

i run this colg for my passion

nt business

he quoted last day and said if that ever happens again he will get us beaten up by his locals, and lock us up in jail!!

and has done it in the past

ultimately not much of soln

after our vain attempt, parents went in

ultimately negotiated that we will pay 39.5k untill he shows us the circular he was bragging about

apurba: "i circular, u triangulr"

god knows what that meant

.

and pailan locked up the hostel lads

so they cold not come out

there was a small bawal in girls hostel also

best incident of the day

when AS was moving out

some1 said "dhil chure kach bege debo"

and he came out and startd shouting "putte debo, !@#$#%, ke boleche"

then something happend, and there was a arugment with an IT girl

he was shouting at her,

she shouted back "nijer may ke samlan, student der gunda diye petabe dhumki diye baray"

he would have hit her then, bt maytar baba

eshe boolo ami OC charu marketer

ota shune saha packet

and gari niye beriye galo

...........

the end"

LMAO ROFLOL 

rest of the story -c-o-f-i-d-e-n-t-i-a-l

The End

and another 30th of november...
time on its merciless wings...
sigh

...
And then I met the brown eyes
Those eyes in which the tears had dried
Which told the tale of a battle once fought
One against oneself
Whoever won
Self  lost

here is something someone wrote and made me numb... 

"A little girl came into my life 16 years back...tiffins together our tiny hands unpacked...the big secrets, the small fights, the heartbreaks, the stomach ache we faked. The little girl around whom i build my world...who cried everytime i would fall...she still is my little girl though we both have grown tall... copied from each other in exam...made boyfriend With each others permission...shared magic moments,together took all decision. We danced,we sang,we laughed Out love...Shared The same umbrella under the cloud...Wiped a tear everytime the other was down. Beat up the bullies & together got caned...Big promises together we made...And though the world moved on my little girl stayed. :*"

*loud

and i am truly madly deeply in love with you BEN since... since???

and study hard love... next year no coconut oils please :/

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

love ???

and i just realised that there is still so much to learn from you...
i love you ms jahan and i detest writing "mrs"
come back :(

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…”

And after 12 long years, she again made me cry, my ARATRIKA

PUJO :)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))

Anamika

I saw her today, a bit taller than the last time we met and then, I noticed her heels…

She was always a sweetheart, Anamika, my best friend. While the world got themselves pampered at beauty salons, my dearest preferred to spend her bit on me. We became friends back then when I had my front teeth missing and she had hers, popping out of the upper jaw. Intelligent, shy, loving- that was Anamika for me throughout the 15 years of my school life and then…

She got admission in the best engineering college of Kolkata and I moved to Delhi to do literature. The seven times a day phone calls started reducing their numbers, our conversations, letters, mails, letters became limited to festivals and formal wishes. While I got my first job as a Montessori teacher, I had no idea whatsoever about Anamika, my oldest friend. Anamika was the one who could actually read the pain of this Montessori teacher who grew up hearing that she is born to write and I thanked God for the irony. While I got busy with my life- two children and chauvinist, dominating husband, I never had enough time to even wonder how Anamika has been.” Is she as lean a she was? Is she happy?” Anamika somehow dissolved in the dusty warmth of my golden days…



She wore a white salwar with beautiful silver bangles and yes, I saw it correctly, she actually had kohl in her eyes, my Angel who did not even know how mascara differs from blush on, today, has changed with straight silky hairs that once resembled jute sticks. She was standing outside a mall. I thought I would call her but I looked at myself and what I have become with a sari that had a few holes, tanned skin, hard tough hands, a 10 year old watch which said I need to reach home before my husband does. “Will she recognize me today? Today, when the ‘Princess’ of Anamika has died?” I thought…



Before I could decide, I saw her going away in a black car. She went and I lost her yet again but this time, maybe for good...

one long month... one long long month... not really though...
thank you eveyone for making college bearable
cheers :)

coTHE WHOLE IDEA... THEME... MOST OF THE THINGS ABOUT THIS ONE CAME OUT OF SUBHAJIT DASGUPTA'S CREATIVE MIND... THE SONG VERSION OF THIS ONE (BY HIM) IS WAY BETTER


You were not more beautiful,
Than the many angels smiling above
But the stolid, the rustic girl I saw,
Somehow made me fall in love.
The way you held my hand back then
The promises made aloud,
I knew you were mine biatch
All mine, without a doubt.

The crimson dawns of happy songs,
When times were not tough,
You leaned against my chest and said
'I’m all yours my love'.
The day you left,
I was torn apart and cried,
But I hid it all within
The salty poison didn’t come out of my eyes.


You walked away
Left me all alone,
With a desire to get back
The bitch I have forever known.
Yes I need you,
Like I’ve never needed anyone before,
But I won’t call you back my love
I’m just too strong though weak from  core.


You are a part of me,
The part that can never part,
So enchanting, so alluring,
So incredibly beautiful,
You still are
And This is known to few,
So  let me accept all over again
… Biatch, I LOVE YOU.

I saw him kissing his grandson again
In mid winter, his eyes showed me the rain.
After forty long years he is still the same,
One 'victorious' man of life's game.

The old pile of yellow books,
The sepia tinted memories,
Back to the fun filled college days,
Of the semi love stories.

And today yet again
He left on his 'jet plane'
This time forever
Forever... yet again.

I woke up to get a message from Titoo saying “Ato ghrli,adda marli… tao no new blogs?”


And I wondered yes, I actually have not blogged for a long long time primarily because my “Ben” dearest is sad…

What do I write about anyways…

College has finally become “FUN”

I actually regret telling Satabdi two thousand times ‘I’m not going to your class, your classmates don’t like me much”- I loved the whole gang for the ‘SURPRISE” and making my birthday so special, I actually danced … ahem ahem (details not required)…

Bunking, lying- all is done in just 3 weeks- from mani square to nabina to south city to MC D to coffee house to jhilpar to dakshinapan to freshers to teachers’ day to rehearsals to dramas to nothing at all to what not and where not… I’m actually loving college… I’m loving the love around be it Chirki’s ‘spark’ or the ‘bad boy’ I ‘had’ a semi crush on…fights- tears- heartbreaks- friendships- all in all- the next four years wont be as bad as I thought they would be….

While I still miss Shreemoyee, I finally love my class and absolutely crazy friends and the “ECE-CSE-IT” bond and most importantly, the place called “Pailan” has finally become “my college”… if only “V”ictory came the way I wanted it to…

P.S. I love you Shreemoyee

And

Satabdi, Moulika, Sir, Olivia, Hirak, Saougata, Subhajit, Sayan, Wriju, Sahin, Arindrajit, Golu, Gunjan, Dipanajn, Soham, Banhijit, Jelly, Arjun… and so very many people…

Thank You

Almost two weeks (4months +2 weeks that is) of constantly texting Shreemoyee and nagging nagging and some more of nagging about how I hate being a Pailanite and how I missed “MY” friends and how weird and dehati everyone around is, Debjani’s patent dialogue “Abhi, toke world’r best college e boshiye dileo you would have felt the same way, give it some time”, Dipabarna’s tears flooding all the way from Haldia with “Hyan re, amar o bhalo lagchhe na” and our usual midnight 4way conferences…. I finally am feeling good, I actually am singing and writing and blogging again.




Not that I don’t miss the thousand silly things that used to be normal and regular, I HATE disconnecting Shreemoyee’s calls while the basic electrical engineering sir teaches some shit, I hate the zillion cheapos in class who have just two questions to ask

1. Are you single?

2. Can I have your number?

I hate the constant gossip about BOYS ranging from seniors to the cute guy with ugly girlfriend to the CR, I hate hate hate so very many things. I still remember crying my eyes outs ( a rare thing though) for hours on end with poor Shreemoyee on the receiving end but of late I have started liking the rush to catch the bus, the regular bus VS auto discussions at 'shakher bajar' to save 2 bucks= 1 dose of “nicotine”, I absolutely love the pukur par specially while it rains, I am back to giving names and mimicking

and thank god for the glimpses of Dio that I can finally see in Pailan



“POSIMISM” (the word we invented) is in the air again and I have again started liking LOSERS ;)

WTF

“…


A: Just a sec just a sec, she is dating aaa ki jeno naamta?
J: *** Ali Khan’s grandson
A: The name?
J: *** Ali Khan’s grandson
A: And what does he do?
J: He is *** Ali Khan’s grandson, that is enough…”



LOSER

Ah Dio! My Dio

as I write this I'm ver very sad...everyone apart from my 'Ben' is leaving the city (almost)
from Prerna to Dipabarna to Suchishmita to so very many people... ( G, A, R, J)
and Dr.Dearest sings it loud...
"koi aur ho ya na ho tu hai main hu bus...
jaane tu jaane tu ya jaane na, maane tu, maane tu ya maane na"

Ms.Jahan n Prerna, I miss you
rest... I will miss you a hell lot
*love*

Dears and darlings, I love you
Happy amader day!!!

Thank you everyone for everything

Oh Kolkata

My city, I Love You


This is something I wrote about a week ago while I was sure never to ‘write’ again but I guess life is too long and unpredictable to make such decisions and today I suddenly feel like putting it up.

Friday, 17th of July 1:22 am, Bilaspur station: - yes that is read correctly, I have never been to a station for such a long time, our train is late by 3 hours and that leaves me with the next few idle hours, a book which would make any sane person mad (I wonder why I don’t listen to shreemoyee) and of course, my thoughts!


Coming to ‘mamabari’ has always been something I thoroughly enjoyed until the time came when my maternal grandparents sold their gold old house at “Dongargarh” but, this time it was different. Now that everyone is busy trying to find the ‘indigenous incognito of an individual’ and I am absolutely nowhere with no school to go to or college to look forward to, everyone apart from my oldest bestest friend seems to irritate me these days with their ‘ki porchhish, kothay porchhish’ and other bit of shit, my mother’s caring and genuine advice of joining one of the best five engineering colleges here left me with weird emotions.


This time while I was here, I did not look in awe at the small villages passing by or the very many small things here and consciously or subconsciously whatever it is, I started comparing each and every aspect of this place with the city of joy, my city of joy.


While my Maashi and Dada failed to understand why am I so keen to join any bad college at Kokata while I’m getting better colleges at Bhilai, the Kolkatan soul inside cries out loud. Nobody really understands the ‘phhuchka’ can never become ‘ghupchup’ for me who has grown up loving the city. They say college life is fun, maa says hostel life is the best ever but the mere thought of leaving Shreemoyee and Maa and Kolkata takes away my smiles far off.. I know that a year later probably Shreemoyee will go away as well, I will definitely regret about this decision and won’t be able to stick to my city forever but still, the ever so dry eyes gets wet at the thought of the instance when I’ll have to leave life behind.


Today, one hour forty two minutes past midnight while I listen to ‘Tania’ and write this, I am very very sad. No, not because I did not do well in my competitives, not because the pre college tension is becoming unbearable but because things are changing so quickly. Shreemoyee will be busy a year later, Prerna is goin away, Satabdi is happy to join Pailan, Aritri found a new world in city college, Debjani got whatever she forever longed for in Xaviers and thus everyone has taken a step further and here I am, still wondering how to leave behind this chhad and that chapel and those mango trees and the F.R.I.E.N.D.S behind which are all MINE.


Now, I myself have lost the link. I don’t know what I wanted to write and where this is going and while I am pessimistic and sad and disgusted and ashamed, today I look behind to realize, Hello, this is not the way I wanted my life to be.


And the music player correctly sings… “koto ki korar chhilo je”

PLAY THESE FOR ME A MILLION TIMES AND I WOULD STILL WANT TO HEAR THEM AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN!!!

Mera kuch saamaan tumhare paas pada
o o o ! saavan ke kuch bheege bheege din rakhe hain
aur mere ik khat main lipti raat padi hai
vo raat bhulaa do, mera vo saamaan lauta do
mera kuch saamaan tumhaare paas pada hai
patjhad hai kuch ... hai na ?
o ! patjhar mein kuch patton ke girne kee aahat
kaanon main ek baar pahan ke laut aai thee
patajhad kee vo saakh abhi tak kaamp rahi hai
woh shaakh gira do, mera vo saamaan lauta
ek akeli chhataree main jab aadhe aadhe bheeg rahe the
aadhe sookhe aadhe geele, sukha to main le aaye thee
geela man shayad bistar ke paas pada ho
vo bhijwa do, mera vo saamaan lauta do
ek so sola chaand ki ratain ek tumhare kaandhe ka til
geeli mahendi ki khushbu, jhoot mooth ke shikwe kuch
jhooth mooth ke wade sab yaad karaa do
sab bhijwa do, mera vo saamaan lauta do
ek ijaazat de do bas, jab isako dafanaaungee
main bhi waheen so jaungee
main bhi waheen so jaungee



tujhse naaraaz nahi zindagi, hairaan hoon main
o hairaan hoon main
tere masoom savalon se pareshaan hooN main
o pareshaan hoon main
jeene ke liye socha hi na tha, dard sambhalane honge
muskuraoon to, muskurane ke karz utaarne honge
muskuraoon kabhi to lagata hai
jaise hontonn pe karz rakhaa hai
tujhase ...
aaj agar bhar ayi hai, boondein baras jaayengi
kal kya pata inke liye aakhen taras jayengi
jaane kahan gum kahan khoya
ek aansu chhupake rakha tha
tujhse ...
zindagi tere gum ne hamain rishte naye samajhaye
mile jo hamain dhoop main mile chhaanv ke thande saaye
o tujhase ...



Dil hoom hoom kare, ghabraaye
Ghan dham dham kare, darr jaaye
Ek boond kabhi paani ki mori ankhiyon se barsaaye
Dil hoom hoom kare, ghabraaye
Teri jhori daaroon sab sukhe paat jo aaye
Tera chhua laage, meri sukhi daar hariyaaye
Dil hoom hoom kare, ghabraaye
Jis tan ko chhua tune, us tan ko chhupaaoon
Jis man ko laage naina, voh kisko dikhaaoon
O more chandrama, teri chaandni ang jalaaye
Teri oonchi ataari maine pankh liye katwaaye
Dil hoom hoom kare, ghabraaye
Ghan dham dham kare, darr jaaye
Ek boond kabhi paani ki mori ankhiyon se barsaaye
Dil hoom hoom kare, ghabraaye

Koto Ki Korar Chhilo Je

There are a few songs which are bound to make you sad… they either bring back memories or one can relate to the lyrics so badly that it brings the salty poison out, or the tune takes one to the sad land but, this song somehow brings back the ‘dream’ that I grew up with and which finally got shattered… JUDE

and I’m not ashamed to accept the fact that I was not good enough to make it there, and for once if I stop trying to be the ‘matured’ myself I would definitely say, I am ashamed, very very very...

Jani hariye jabe jani, amader ei golpo ta

jani furiye jabe jani, sokkoler chhelebela
tobu aankre dhore rekho, tumi tomar joubon
jotoi buriye jak, char pasher jibon
jani kaal bhule jabe amader golpo e duniya
tobu hoyto theke jabe amader gaan taniya
somoy thake na theme, ekdin bhule jete hoy
tai hath tao amader ekdin, thik e khule dite hoy
tobu chharbona amra hath kichutei, moner bhetor
jotoi bodle jak charpasher ei shohor
jani kaal bhule jabe amader golpo e duniya
tobu hoyto theke jabe amader gaan taniya

Ol Ol Days...

Mile sur mera tumhara
To sur bane humara...



Adbhut adam sahas ki paribhasha hain
ye mitti manavta ki asha hain
Yeh srishti ki shakti ka vardan hain
yeh avtar nahi hain yeh insan hain
SHAKTIMAN SHAKTIMAN SHAKTIMAN



Books, books, books,
Babaroobaabaa,
books, books, books
..................................
.................................
Its the Bournvita Quiz Contest



Yeh hain antakshari,
close up antakshari



Flintstones, meet the Flintstones *something something*


Scooby Dooby Doo
Where Are You
We've got some work to do now
Scooby Dooby Doooo


Aaj kal porshu ekdin
shomoyer shomudre mishe jay
eet kath pathorer *somethimh*
itihash phishphish kotha koy
din bodlay
raat bodlay
mon tobu khoje
Jonmobhoomi Jonmobhoomi


Jungle jungle baat chali hain
pata chala hain
chaddi pehen ke phool khila hai
phool khila hai.



Main samay hoon...
yada yada *something something*


She is a smaaaaaaaaaaaaaal wonder
that makes your heart go... *something something*


Go planet
Earth! Wind! Fire! Water! Heart! (forgot the sequence)
With your powers combined
I am Captain Planet


Aao sab mil gaaye
SaReGaMa
TVS SaReGaMa


saanse sada nahi rehti
saase sada nahi rehti


Waqt ke saath saath saya bhi
apni haar pal disha badalta hain
ek se ek hain jure firbhi
kahi kuch fasla sa lagta hain


Raja rancho rajaaaaaaa RANCHO!!!


Aliflaila Aliflaila... Aliflailaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Life was ‘life’ back then when dreaming was ‘allowed’ and everything seemed possible.

its 24th June... its St. John's Day and I'm not in St. Pauls cathedral, not singing 'Make me a channel of your peace'... *sad*

I woke up at 6:20 in the morning at the sound of Maa and Kutu. It wasn’t the sound which

irritated me but the old familiar sounds (which I was once a part of)… of the usual ‘pre-school hours’ hustle pustle. Summer vacations are over and my sister’s school has reopened but in my case school is over… I am an ex-diocina.

I remember the summer holidays we had and how we always did the ‘holiday homework’ after school reopened, on the last date of submission (after postponing the actual date 5times) and … 24th June… rehearsals used to start ei shomoy. Either we sang or we went to St. Paul’s Cathedral diner por din (all thanks to our prefect badge)… it was St. John’s day afterall.. Soon came ‘Monday tests’… man! Those were something. The black board used to be the the ‘question paper’ and we sat ‘bondhur pashe’ and thus the first two periods of Monday mornings always brought similar marks (almost) except for the times when the ‘cruel’ teachers changed our seats… DAMN!. Block tests followed after 15th August celebrations which we always screwed, all thanks to “Aaye Mere Watan Ke Logo” and “Aisa Des Hain Mera” and what not in the sun, rain and mud and of course, we always have our Annual Theme Quiz and Shreemoyee going mad around this time.
RESULTS… BASHING… THRASHING… and then… Teachers’ Day!!!

In every possible place there used to be students and tape recorder and DANCE. Right from the Primary kids to the senior didis, the scenario was same and this was the TIME for bunkers like us. Come teachers day and nobody no more needs to think of new ‘bahanas’.. bunk- eat- play- eat- fight- eat- chat- eat… usual routine till the first week of September and then… Half Yearly Exams. The switching off the phones, swearing on teachers for the incredibly huge syllabus, the ‘amar kichhu hoyni’, the ‘ei, konta important’. The ‘tui ki ki chharli?’ and finally exams!!! At times our life was made more miserable by the pre-pujo results (not always though) and again with “I expect you to do much better” came…
RESULTS… BASHING… THRASHING… and then… Durga Pujo.
Thus came the long hours during classes discussing “ki kinli?”, “kokhon kothay meet korbi” and the running away on Wednesday checkings and running away with big nails from prefects and running after (for prefects)…

Post puja vacation used to be a long long period with no exams to worry about and no holidays to plan for and this was the time for teacher-student clashes and bonds. While some teachers (needless to tell you who) made life miserable with the school politics and sarcasm for most of us, the others made us fall in love with them forever with their incredible teaching, love and care. Then came the children’s day and gifts… (from school)..
While -50degree temperature prevailed for prerna right after pujo with her 2-3 cardigans and muffler and slacks and socks and whatnot! DIO starts getting covered in blue from December. Porashona again starts taking a backseat (for us) with the Christmas tree party preparations and rehearsals. We always had the last working day and the Christmas party on the same day before a month long winter vacation. The school gets covered in all kinds of colours and all thanks to the senior girls (IX and XI mainly) and the non-teacing staff with “Dharma kaku balloon lagiye dao” and “Mrs. Sarkar, the Santa is not ready” and the ‘LONG TIME AGO FROM BETHLEHEM’ from here and there around the school starts the Christmas party and ends with gifts and “We wish you a merry Christmas and a Happy New Year” .

After a month long (yes A MONTH) vacations school again used to reopen and this was the time for Annual Sports and the most significant “HOUSE FIGHTS”. “Green house is the best! Blue ke to partiality kore jetano hoy” and friends turning rivals… anything for the “HOUSE”… practices for marchpast, drill display and hit and finals and fights. Whoever whenever won, won because of some “partiality(?)”!!!
Tarpor Annual Prize Distribution day and the running away from rehearsals (our dear teachers failed to understand je prize newar jonno rehearsal’r dorkar nei)…
In the mean time it would soon be February and picnic!!! The sleepless night the day before- chips- cold drinks- music- dance- lukiye adventure- jhoper arale lokjon- this and that…
And again… “ Miss the syllabus is inhuman” , “ Please be lenient”… and the study leave.
Most of us opened our books at time this time (only) wondering where to start from… and yet again… phone off… janla bondho… mathay tel… ki hobe ki hobe… 5days and ANNUAL EXAMS!
After exams life was back in track except for
RESULTS… BASHING… THRASHING… and then… New Class!!!

15-20 days of the new session with “ei amader bio buladi nichhe” “lalburi chem… e bocchor fail”… and the Rabindra Jayanti celebration before a month long summer holiday with holiday homework and Monday test routine to worry about but… nobody cared…

And amidst all this was friendship… life
‘canteen e eto line abar’, the cold drink didi saying ‘ebar tomader daant gole jabe’, Friday’s ‘aloo peyaj’ and bahanas, class diary niye bunk, drawing miss’r ‘nonstop blockbuster’ , Bhuniya’s ‘phallowed’, Bhanja’s ‘Meet me when I’m empty’, Rowchowdhuty’s ‘wanna see me more?’, Dimbo’s ‘six ta to erom bolchho jeno…’, Debi’s ‘anko question paper dekhbe aar amay mone korbe’, Majumdar’s ‘I’ll ttthow you out of the class with your bag and baggage’, Pb’s “Ei last bencher meyegulo koto bochhor dhore ei class ei pore’ and… “miss matha byatha” miss mrs.XYZ is calling”, “gastric problems” (whenever we got caught eating in the class) and .. the “DUSTBIN making competitions”, “Sec-D’r teacher ra beshi marks dey”, “ei tiffin ber kor” , “Abhi… oshomoy khawa thik noy”- Prerna, Ria’s low scale gaan and the so very many things… konta likhbo konta noy…
I miss you all… life somehow is still back there behind the green walls and mango trees and hostel building and chapel and back compound and……
in 17, Sarat Bose Road.

Was it not yesterday when things were beautiful? Was it not yesterday when we all were 'EQUAL'? Was it not yesterday when the first thing that we did when we met a friend was to smile and not ask “koto rank holo”? Was it not yesterday when the only thing I had to worry about was my ever increasing weight? Was it not yesterday when Maa still had that smile of trust and belief which I see no more? Was it not yesterday when I was not ashamed?

Yes it was…
Sigh

porikkha shesh ... porikkha shesh.............. but i am not as happy as i thought i would be....
if only the physics paper was better
if only they could start experimenting from the next year

if only 'i' selected my subjects

if only today was not the last day i wore my school uniform
if only..............
sigh...

i so miss the feeling of "last porikkhar din"
and i miss Ms. Jahan

Anonymous is dead
Anonymous… whom we all have been, is dead.
Who will spare at his grave?
A man made of fingerprints whom nobody wants?
The dead letter writer?
The breather into telephones?
Who were you when you were somebody else,
Do you remember?
Anonymous doesn’t want to play any more.
Cover the face you never saw.
-Anonymous

its 30th of november again... 4 years.... i woke up... decided to finally sit with "S.N.Dey"... n then i realised... its 30th november...

and then... i smsd all the "purono" frndz saying...

"Aaj 30th nvmbr... evrythng chngs so quickly"

most of them replied...but two of them touched me in a weird way...

first one was a 'pointer' who said

"Why wat hpnd? Plz tell me Meri memry is qte weak"... i mean. how the hell did she forget the 'badambhaja' and 'false hair' and 'robotic dance' and 'shaan' and so very many things....

second one was my darling Aritri. Her sms says

"Ryt! Ajkr ei dine kno ek bocjor amra ek scl e portam! Ekshange kto utshaher 7e mddle estrn dnce nechechilam netaji te! N 2dy we al r sitin alone preparn 4 our upcmn maths xam n rst of our lyf. 2dy we dnt knowr we'l go? Wt we'l do? Whether we'l b in tch or nt! Ys evrythn chngs quickly..."

i miss all of you my dears and darlings, even the "pointer" who matters a lot... will write more on this topic after maths exam n yes, this post may not make sense to anyone but Diocinas...