Over time and experience and love, I have started to become
this agony aunt. Partly because I am insecure big time and party because maybe
I am not a good human being after all.
I part of me dies every time I realise how my lifestyle
would be completely different from my mother in the coming years, the life
would not quite be different though :/
Midst all these I graduated on the 25th. One
nice day after and before too many not nice days. But
heck yes, I am a graduate now! Big deal? It is :)
I have also started to be this desperate begging machine.
What is wrong with me? There used to be times when I would be this nasty
prefect to juniors and sarcastic bitch to seniors, nose stuck up in air. And
today? I beg away to glory forgetting what self respect has ever been.
You always get back what you deserve; you also get back what
you give. The god, the bad, the worst! Guess it’s my turn now. And I regret
laughing at people about certain things which has been folded back at me by the
fate monkey. You folks can have your share of laugh now at my expense.
They don’t even call me to Bangalore. Now you know what I
meant when I said I’ve become an agony aunt?
It will be all party and happiness in the next 100 days in
this part of the world while I probably would be sitting with strangers or
alone, eating things that I don’t like and missing everything because. Ah. And the
funny part is, nobody else would miss me back during that specific time.
I AM at my pessimistic best since yesterday for various
reasons and the things that go on absolutely fuel the mood. It is like the fate
monkey throwing the rotten bananas at me.
Nothing, NOTHING depresses me more than rude talks and
rejections and here I face both off and on. I was not prepared for this bit of
life after college to be very honest. What I imagined was patta from here there
everywhere because you feel and are grown up and a graduate (almost) but I see
people judging me for my “biyer boyesh” and “chakrir boyesh” at every social
gathering I go to and I leave all to the distant future with a smile. I have
been recently rejected at an article because I was not good enough at a place
which gave me a leetil hope until the denial of course. I have also been endlessly
waiting to join the company that still gives me hope, although end September-October
will see me crying and complaining. But that is for later. Recently I have also
been introduced to the politics that happens professionally and Maa happily
told me to learn to shut up and speak when spoken to or need. I mean WHY! Why
so much of this and that. Why can I not ping and pang like I always do without
the slightest bit of doubt and fear. Why can I not exactly write what my
problem is, at this point of time which makes me write this vague shit. I will
so break down or break away I swear.
The good things? Little mercies in life? Yesterdays cycle
ride back home in rain, fully dreanched through the almost empty lanes, after a
long long time, which again freaked Maa out because it is like everyone is
suffering from Viral. I also loved the back strokes yesterday where I could see
the rain drops falling right on my face ^_^
That counts? For all the nonsense that life is giving me? Am
I asking for too much? Maybe.
It is the 21st of June this year and before I
sulk away to glory and forget, last year today was veeeery sweet. I left my
specs at a distant graam called Sonarpur during our summer training last year
on the 20th evening and as always, was all sad about it. So, on the
21st morning the soon-to-go-abroad-man called me to meet, pretty
early in the morning, and I thought it was to say bye bye. I was so pleasantly
surprised when he handed me the specs back. He went all the way back to
Sonarpur early in the morning, sacrificing his morning zzzz, to get my specs,
gave it back to me and rushed off to catch his bideshi flight :D
Sweet that was! And I was so touched. Why can I not name him? Because I am
supposed to behave in a specific way to please people and I am also supposed to
say things keeping in mind how those will affect the future of people and mine.
And what not. I am so sick and tired of everything. I so needed a holiday.
That was one 21st June and today is another. Many
things have changed and many did not. The love and care and affection from two
people that I get, I should be eternally thankful to the omnipresent for that,
yet, I think I deserved a little more. Or, maybe not. The rude talks and word
slapsticks atleast could be avoided God? No? Sigh!
Oh and now I remember, today also is the birthday of a girl
called Priya Mukherjee who was so smart and cool that I used to totally idolize
her back in school :D
Happy Birthday :)
I miss school so much. SOOOOOOOOO much!
So college is over. What started on the 9th of
August 2010 ended on Monday, the 2nd of June 2014.
To be very honest, I was NEVER happy about being at Pailan,
never happy with what I was studying. I
started off with dreams of being at JUDE and reality took me through
auto-bus-bus-auto to Pailan College of Management and Technology every morning
for a 12 hour long story. From the professors to infrastructure to placements
to fests to fresher’s to farewell, there is not one thing about Pailan that I
am proud of, yet, today when I sit back and read the farewell notes that people
wrote to me, I cannot stop crying.
Crying? Yes! I do not remember crying when school ended yet
school days were the best phase of my life. Back then, when people claimed and
promised that nothing would change and ties break not, I believed it that way.
Today I know that all of that is nonsense. Yes the ties break not and yes you
do meet the selected set of friends, because meeting the specific them is most
convenient and not the others, for whichever reason(s), but nothing remains the
same. Not one thing. EVER!
Come to think of it, Pailan has taken away from me much much
more than whatever it has offered, yet my mind cannot slip away the four years
that marked most of the ‘firsts’ of my life. It is not the college that I will
miss; the college happily harassed us even on the last exam day but the people
and the feeling of being a student. Officially I would be on my own after
results are declared in a month or two (passing is required but let me not
get into that angle) but in reality, the college ended and today, this moment,
I am ‘bekaar’.
People were in tears after the farewell dinner. That is when
the feeling of shit-I-won’t-get-to-see-many-of-them-ever slowly started
crawling inside. When I reached home late, Maa gushed (not in a nice way :D)
about crossing her return-home-by-this-time deadline and when I said ‘ei toh
shob shesh’ she said how happy she is that her duty of providing me the basic
education is over and of course, that I will not have to go to the distant village
every morning. Like really? The phuchkawala was atleast sad about us going and
treated us with unlimited phuchkas for Rs.10 each on the last day. Now I even
miss sulking and boycotting him for the last 2 years for a petty fight in 3rd
Sem.
I hope to have years ahead that will make me miss these 4 years in a happy way.
The terms and equations will change and that is part of life. In today’s world,
being in touch is no big a deal. Still, one little corner of my heart is heavy
today. Choked. Who knew? We experienced
two KKR wins and a World Cup win in the mean time too! PJ? Well. Errr :P
Like and unlike many, I did not mind going to Pailan. Was
lucky to find good people around. Won’t name them because I am sure to miss out
on a few names and years later, like when I am 80 and doing a little jig and woofing with arthritis, when I read this, I would not want to remember
how I felt for anyone with any wrong impression. If we talk of memories, I will
again miss out on many! Am sure to meet many of the friends and acquaintances
in future but the sad part is, I would never meet them all of them together, at
one place. I know I am just going on but
I just feel bad right now and nothing helps more than writing.
Because a bit of me still lives at those classrooms with red walls, the
intentionally broken tables, unintentionally broken tube lights, the cemented
seat at Ganja pukur, cafeteria beside the septic tank, Lipton stall and
overpriced food, the chhad, jol bhora roads, haat, the long stretch of open
land and Bollywood road from PCMT to PSIS to World School, the stone chips
which were the hotspot in winter. A part of me would forever be ashamed of
ranking 42369 and the other part of me hates the first day as a graduate
(almost).Because a part of me will always be fighting with the teachers for not
letting us sit together for internals, having ‘phau’ phuchkas at Selim’s,
planning to run away without paying for the cold drink at Suresh da's, setting up horrendous
outings, asking about nit grits, standing at the no uniform line and slipping away
with weird names at the register, doing extensive PNPC about every possible
person, falling in love at random graphs, admiring the buzzing rehearsal rooms, hiding the 29 cards at the sight of techers (read BG), sulking about the college at the college. Because THAT long U shaped corridor,
THESE friends, THOSE long bus rides, THIS orange white and blue building is
mine. And shall forever be.
Hence it is proved. No matter how much we crave, complain, nag and demand for the rain, it is a dangerous thing for exams.
You can either look at it with dreamy eyes and go along the romantic mind walk.
Or you can just snooze off to sleep, at 1pm, wake up VERY guilty and start admiring the rains again.
The exams would have been so over by tomorrow. We would have been clicking photos and talking sappy this time kal. WBUT played with us one last time. Here I am, half asleep, half dreamy, admiring the rains, feeling like a heroine. I wish and hope and pray to be lucky and happy the 8th time, this time. Please.
2nd June! Come Soon.
Sunday, May 18, 2014
Inferiority complex. Broken dreams. Could have beens. Jealousy.
So the ‘pochishe boishakh’ happens in the most non happening
way for me. I see the people staying out of Kolkata missing and pining away in
glory while I feel no lump. Maybe I would do the same a year from now.
Dariburo was never the favourite during school years of
‘kobita mukhostho’ and oral tests. I remember how the much loved ‘dui bighe
jomi’ used to make me stammer. I loved the poem endlessly but that bit of ‘nomo
nomo nomo shundori momo jononi bongobhumi’ was such a tongue twister! I have
always believed that Sarat Chandra wrote way better stories than Rabindranath
but the poems! Kobiguru literally is THE man!
Later came my years of gaaner class and struggling with the
harmonium. Aunty never taught me to play “Amar o porano jaha chaay’ which once,
during my good old days of dreaming, I thought I would get to hear and maybe
sing as well. I loved the songs that I could play easily. I loved the Pujo
porjaye-r songs that I found very Prem porja-ish. No, I am so not demeaning
Dariburo and so not trying to confuse the non-bong readers, if any.
I have also had my days of shada phool on head and yellow
saari and horrendous ‘Phule phule ghole dhole’ on stage and also singing
performances when I went to the mike, stood silent, took my packet of mishit
and happily strolled to old amma bari!
What did I do for Rabindra Jayanti? I edited files, ate and
went printing binding in the sun, stood for quite some time, ate again, tried
understanding codes and gave up, ate again, got terribly cursed by a random man
begging down the road (which has made me VERY upset), met people, ate again,
walked home happy, showed Maa the final year project knowing that I know
nothing and she would still be amazed that I made that copied thing.
The post again following my trademark going nowhere trend.
And since that has happened, let me just advise everyone to watch Apur
Panchali! I am extremely amazed by the character played by Parno Mitra! I would
have married that cute a woman any day! The way she cried and instructed the
husband going away for a while, or the way she was mocked by the loving
husband. I was so pleased and dreamy eyed. I so wish I was born a generation or
two ago. I do feel old and way too old fashioned for my age at times. These
days, quite a lot. The values, wants, actions, reactions and everything that is
there to me has started to be so 19th century that people are
getting affected very badly. I could have done with people who happily bear me
less during those centuries? K jane. The other side of the land with greenery
is quite a deceptive concept.
Well, now that this post just going nowhere, I may also add
that college is ending. Not that I was particularly fond of the place called
Pailan, I did not hate it either. Minus the last semester which hardly
happened, I had a lot of life experiences here. On 27th, it all
ends. I would be meeting some of the people off and on for sure. But that does
not change the fact that nothing would be same. I won’t call this feeling
nostalgia, I don’t even want time to stop because I have never liked the place
that Pailan is, the management it had, the course I did there, but somewhere,
deep down inside, I am not too happy that college is ending.
Did not read this far? Well I don’t care! I have semesters in
12 days and I am blank and still, jobless and all up for writing on and on and
rant a lot. SO, I rant and write. I had and have a LOT to rant and rant and
rant about. Ah another day again maybe :)
Saturday, May 3, 2014
Sunday, April 27, 2014
A movie called Apur Panchali released and the trailer at 2
states told me it had scenes from the trilogy. I am not too proud to admit that
I have only watched and read Pather Panchali. Read, because it was a part of
our class V syllabus and watched because I wanted how the book has been
painted. Now, before watching Apur Panchali, I wanted to watch ‘Aparajito’ and
‘Apur Sansar’. I did not bother reading the books because the death of Durga
had taken my interest away already with the first book.
So yesterday, when I was utterly bored, I started to watch
Aparajito and paused and eventually got a little bored at the speed and closed
VLC after about 20minutes. Also since I had not read the book, I was finding it
difficult to concentrate.
The reason why I write this is because a small scene really
made me think and over think. There was a scene when ‘Sharbojaya’ declares that
there is milk for the husband as well in the ‘chhoto baati’ (small bowl). Now,
everyone who knows about ‘Apu’ and ‘Durga’ are aware of their financial status.
‘Horihor’, the husband had happy eyes that he too, other than his ‘khoka’ (the
son) will get milk every day. He enters the small kitchen, finds his bowl of
milk and relishes it with a ‘bah’. All that was alright. Now, the catch. After
he finishes his bowl, he goes to tap that his wife was using to wash the
dishes. He takes the same water that was used for dish washing from the tap
into his bowl, and drinks that water. Because? He wanted to waste not even the
last bit of the milk that was his luxury food. And he was not one bit unhappy. Apu was the usual us though.
That is it. Ei gorome r lekha jabena. Interpret and over think if you have the time and heart.
What an amazing movie. Although a scene by scene copy from
the book but, what a movie!
No, not an Oscar material. A lot of keblami, a lot of over acting and a LOT of
good clothes! But I loved the movie.
I had started to think that I have attained a stage when I
cannot like any movie anymore because honestly, from Gravity to Queen, I found
everything okay-ish. And 2 states took my heart away.
Want to judge me on my taste and intellect? I give a flying
duck.
Now, 3 scenes!
First, when Krish dashes inside the interview process of
Ananya to propose for marriage. Second, when Krish’s mother claps out at the
IIM convocation. Third, when Ananya burst out into happy tears at the Orange
Mangalsutra ritual.
I am going to remember these 3 scenes for a long long time.
And had it not been a hall with people I know by my side, I would have cried
buckets. I don't have the heart to explain why. Let me keep it to myself for a change. But, THESE scenes!
It is always about priorities. Always. It is always about
someone else. Always. It just depends on which part of the coin you play and
which part of the coin you get. And how much effort or no effort things need. Perception. A dangerous thing. I don’t even know why I am writing this. I just
am very happy and sad at the movie. KJo! *biggest hug*
I have been continuously hearing how marriage
spoils it all and how it is burden to the fairer sex (taking the term literally
and not figuratively). Somewhere deep down inside I had started to consider the
old self as old and too desperate to find someone for the bills and small and a
burden. But then THESE!
LOOK how happy and proud he looks! Not even a subtle hint of regret. Ah Ranvijay! The hero of my growing up years. I have never been in love with
him but I have hardly admired any man more. He is smart, handsome, protective, athletic,
down to earth, humble, kind, rides bikes like silk, dances like a lunatic,
respects women, talks sense and I can just go on and on.
Not that I know him personally with his many flaws and I definitely don't think
the ghar ki murgi is dal barabar but RANVIJAY! I don't know if age did that
happy thing to him or the girl, the pictures just made me insanely happy and
jealous of all the happiness that I see in them.
There are times when you want to write and write more and
you have so much to write about but you just can’t.
There are times when you just want to hold on and you have so much to hold
on to but you just can’t.
This is one of THOSE times and no I am not inviting
sympathy, empathy or pity from anyone in any form. Sometimes I do miss school.
I am sure everyone does. We would just wake up on summer mornings hoping for
the small mangoes to fall off everywhere on the grounds after a ‘Kalboishakhi’
night. Being in bus no 16, we were mostly the second set of bus students to
reach school; the first were always bus no 14 people. Those silly little
competitions of gathering the maximum number of mangoes and not gathering
enough certainly was the ONLY disappointment I had in those times of fairytale
living.
Yesterday I had a chitchat with Papu regarding all the
possible problems of this age and he made one small comment, ‘Sukhe rakhi bhalo rakhi bhablei mushkil’,
regarding a significant someone. Do we all think the same? DO we really feel
the need and want to keep someone happy rather than our self selves? Maybe Yes.
Maybe Not. Or maybe in the process of trying to make/keep someone happy we
overdo things that make them just sad. Do we care? About anyone
by ourselves? In this case?
One thing that I have noticed is that my post these days totally
loses the track I start writing them on.
Maa always told me being an obligation
to someone is the worst thing that can ever happen to anyone. The worst thing?
When you just know that you are. They invented a term worse than the worst? It
is when you become a pain in the A place (YES I am too pretentious the B word)
to someone you wanted to give the world to.
There are days when you just would want to run away.
Although I found the much loved and critically acclaimed ‘Into the Wild’ the
most depressing movie EVER! I would just live to do that once. Just to check if
anyone at all cares enough. Other than Maa of course. And then I would just
change how the movie ended, walk back alive through the pretty sunset to you if
you like. Or not if you don’t. I did talk about obligations.
It was a mad hectic day and this post shows! When I become
old, I would surely be embarrassed to even mention about my blog to my
grandchildren, the possibility of which is again bleak. Bleh! Listen to Lobo
instead
So today is the International Poetry Day. I got to know about the existence of such a day after I logged into facebook today.
I used to think I am quite a Poetry Stud (I don't think something like that exists! Judge me again) at school before I got to know others, quite a reality check that. Then came other this' and thats.
Yesterday we had a small communication practice at the German class where we were asked to introduce ourselves using the 5-6 points given to us. The last point being hobby. And I had no idea what to say. So what exactly is my hobby? Watching tv? Sleeping? Reading? Chatting? Surfing net? Painting? WHAT? I mean, I do none of these with the passion that one needs to pursue ones hobby with. In fact, I do nothing ever. Useless? Aimless? Boring? Yes I am and you are not welcome if you are here to judge me.
I thought I would say watching the rain or something more vague, thinking or, dreaming. By the time my turn came, I said writing. I just knew the German of writing. Hence. Counter question from the teacher being, writing what? And Ma'am gave me the German of story and because I asked, Deutsch of poetry too.
And since she did. And since I somehow still am extremely proud of all that I wrote, and since I have a condition called I Complex eating my head these days, and also since today is World Poetry Day, I post the last line of a poem I wrote in 2007! Those were the days when I used to weave my stories :')
Don't judge me. Or maybe, do what you feel like.
"...
Will you always hold my hand
Even if I fail (you) in life's game?
Will you remember all these promises
When things will not be the same?"
Once
upon a time, not too long ago, there were two clouds. Since they had difficult
cloud names and we are stupid kids, let’s call them, Cloud A and Cloud B.
So
soon after being born as the most beautiful things ever, they were appreciated
and loved by all. They together went for strolls all around the world. They
were light and carefree. They looked at the world from far above and were
deciding which way to channelize their lives.
‘I
liked the green all around. It attracts me deeply’ said Cloud B with love. He
had never seen a prettier site. Cloud A agreed to the wholeness and beauty of
the green lands. Who would not want to complement such beauty? Cloud B said ‘so
let’s start our journey back to the green parts of the earth and spend the rest
of our lives with happy togetherness?’ Cloud A looked worried.
‘What is it mate?’ Cloud B enquired ‘Do you not want the beauty and the whole?’
‘ Indeed I do. But that greenery deserves rain. It will destroy me. Destroy me
to rain’
‘That is what we are meant for aren’t we, A? Clouds break to rain and become
one with the land. That is how it should be. That is how you must prepare
yourself. And when you fall in love with the land, you would want to be
destroyed to make her happy’
‘I disagree with you. I am meant for happiness. I am meant for great things. I
will travel far and wide. Love the sand, love the dunes. Atleast they will not
expect me to change myself to some other form. It hardly ever rains there.’
‘That is impossible my friend. You must accept the reality and enjoy the few
days that you have to live. I am going to green lands, they call me with love.
You go to your dunes. And expect to never break down. Adios old friend. Will
meet as rains’
‘That is quite an impossibility B, Goodbye’
So
finally A arrived to the desert. It had been long forsaken and the amount of
love and gratitude received from those sand dunes made Cloud A instantly fall
in love. The desert would listen to his stories and tell him hers. They found
peace in difference. They loved what they got.
The
cloud told her of his plans of travelling far and wide. Of leaving all that is
there and exploring places that would not change his form. Like the desert
which is happy without rains, and she pretended to understand. Deep down inside
the desert knew she has a lot of work to do. How did she fall for someone who would not
quench her thirst? The cloud will have to fall as rain. Somehow. Anyhow. The desert knew she was selfish and knew that the cloud was not.
Thus
began the journey of manipulating A. The desert spoke of her greatness and
love. How she has suffered and what she dreams. She has been thirsty for years
and nobody has ever cared to ask why, and now that there is a source, she must
not let him go. The chains of emotions she had worked and the cloud fell. The
dreams and visions of A changed. The plans of travelling far and wide seemed
unwise.
‘Who
would listen to my stories if I am all alone? And would I be happy to
travel alone? I may have to submit to the fury of the sun someday. Why not sacrifice for my love.’ A thought. Suddenly all his plans of never changing his form
vanished. For he, was in love.
Cloud
A smiled. He knew he had to do it. Change him and be the rain. And as far as
the desert was concerned, she was too much in love with the cloud to let him go
and way too much in love with herself to let herself suffer any more. So the
cloud fell. In love. And this time, as rain.
Does this necessarily mean the rain loved the desert still?
Does it necessarily mean the desert soaked the rain not? Well kids! Do you
believe in happy ending? You know what to infer. Do you find solace in sadness?
You know what to infer. And as far as I am concerned, I would really like to
know what happens. Really.
Do you love that song still?
The one that took my heart away?
With which you assured
That you are here to stay.
Do you promise these days?
About crimson dawns and violet nights?
To those new faces
Who get to share my rights.
Do you plan to come back?
Hold my hand again?
While I pretend to be angry
Till you wash away my pain.
I am alive,
So to say.
Soon would wrap the tall black coat
And bluntly walk away.
Unless of course...
-Abhishikta
Tuesday, March 11, 2014
“Obhimaan” and “Nyaka” are the two words in Bengali that I
have forever wanted to translate to English. So my dear non Bong blog visitor,
if there is any, this post is not really meant for you.
So, Obhimaan and Nyaka. The two most difficult words to translate. And
together, when they become ‘Nyaka Obhimann’, the result can cause the world to
turn upside down. Your world ofcourse! And maybe a bit of my world. Maybe the
whole of it. Or maybe not. Who knows?
Today, for ‘Shibratri’, while the women go foodless and
happy at the prospect of good husbands and uhmmmm... well... good husbands
indeed, I started my day looking at the flab of fat that has accumulated in the
last three months of sitting at home! I did blame it at the white colour that I
was wearing, as suggested by the self proclaimed awesomeness. Yes it indeed was
the white colour. But the flab that walked before me was a very ugly sight.
Imagine spending the rest of your life in Kurtis not by choice, but because
everything else makes you look like a football, And with this vertical
extension, definitely a football. Now if you have ever liked the game where men
is shorts show their hot or not so hot legs, and run after a ball, I have a
chance. See! There is so much to look forward in life. Life is wonderful. And so
are these offers that they provide at food places of and on. So munch on the ‘healthier’
sub with the healthy cheese on it, which of course is made from milk! And milk
makes us strong! Yes! And suddenly I am one of those school seniors who have
become ‘oshobbher moto mota’ after school. And it is not even funny anymore.
I first heard this song on the radio on a show called “Between
the sheets” during school days when I used to solve Maths sums late at night.
And you thought I am not a good girl. Huh.
So when I first heard this I was like 15 and thought what a
cool dude the man is. Went out and down all the girls and still had the audacity
of accepting it all. Back in those times the secondary school, sweethearts I saw
were impossible to be separated and we even planned how their weddings would be
and breakup was the next impossible thing. I never had a proper ‘love’ and
all my likes and oohs and aahs lasted for 2 days and then phussss. I wondered
what is wrong with me. So I loved the song, it became my love anthem and I thought
that yes it is absolutely okay to have random crush at so many of the silly
boys because when I turn 50, I would have something like this to write about my
life and eventually nail the Nobel or at least the Pulitzer. Judge me :D
Years rolled. 2014. Valentines Week. The rj of the show “Between
the sheets” posted this on his wall:
To all the girls I've loved before.... who've travelled in and out my door... I am glad they came along, but I dedicate this day (and this song) to just one girl I love to the core. Happy valentine's day my love! — with Deepali Srivatsa.
“
I was very very happy to read that. I have always loved
Valentine’s Day. All those who constantly defend their morkotness behind the
age old every-day-is-valentines-day, are idiots. There are special days which
must be celebrated. So going back to the topic, this song! I heard the song the
first time after leaving school on the 14th of February this year, after
reading that status. This time I felt like it is a sad song. Not a song for the
stud as I used to think back then. You can actually imagine the morose and
lonely singer sitting on the rooftop with his guitar and a bottle of whiskey
while he sings this, remembering and contemplating life. Because all the fun and variety of youth would finally find their own destinations and the restless bee would be left alone, in one of those dark corners, where he will have life experiences galore but not someone to tell those tales to. Men, accept it, you need us. Today and tomorrow. The SAME us!
My college is about to end. 2010-2014. And suddenly, there
are break ups everywhere. A recently heartbroken friend concluded that men need
immense amount of time to mature and hence she should have known this would
have been the final outcome of weaving dreams with a classmate. I get those
what-would-you-know looks when I try justifying the sticking around and trying more
policies. With time everything loses its charm and then you hunt to find new
ones and end up gathering experience, love and good time from everyone. Who
likes extra baggage? Says the hep and smart society, says this song.
Really? What are we? Pigs?
And then there are nice gestures and people who celebrate
their nth year of being together. Happily? Sadly? Matters?
I can just speak for myself. After the initial
lets-try-to-be-cool-and-stay-out-of-love years, I have become this sappy,
melodramatic idiot from B grade Bollywood movies. There is nothing cool or
awesome or modern or reassuring about that. I believe in love and commitment
and long term and everything else that is a turn off. And that stays! And about
this song, I still love it.
