Love...????

Dungeon of Despodency , A pointless expectancy ,
A painting colourless , A paper of emptiness ,
Forcefully abominate , Hopelessly infatuate ,
I scream , i shout and wait ... Trust me , its a pathetic state !

The Story of Ms.X

Who mocked me ??????
The situation was such that i was compelled to cross the noisy crowd . The people were making quite a din simply to get their hands on one of the goodies chucked by the priests of the '' Rath Yatra '' . I saw their eyes , it gleamed . I saw an innocence in their eyes . An innocence that at ages well above childhood (grown men..) they rushed for sweets , an innocence that reflected what illiteracy could do to you , an innocence which stared back at me and which i adored as they were all calcuttans .
I approached the crowd to cross it and to meet my friend on the other side . I entered and broke what the hindu mythology would call ''The Laxman Rekha '' . I noticed that i was noticed . I walked swiftly , horizontally bisecting the horde . But within seconds , the crowd as if to have a combined motive faked a minor stampede and before i knew it, all the men came towards me like sexually deprived monsters . Some were grinning like apes , some making an ''i-dun-know-wats-happenin'' expression and some serious as they were working on something important . Their filthy hands reached out to me .
I screamed as fucking loud as i could . Loud but not loud enough to drown the amplified chants of the priests . I tried to run but i cud'nt evn move a finger . There were too many ppl and way too much force .

I looked up at the sky . All i saw were the gods in saffron clothing nonchalantly walking and occasionally peeping from their heavenly curtain , all i heard was an ambiguous blend of the amplified chants and my shrill screams and all i felt was doom breathing hard at the back of my neck . Bit by bit i was slipping into the crater of madness .

Hundreds of hands frisked me . Hard hands which seemed to have a mind of their own delinked from human emotions . I was'nt bothered about the pain . It was just about the feeling of prefering death .

Then through all those demons my eyes fell upon a man decently clad , pushing and fighting , making his way to me . He stretched his hand towards me and i more than readily grabbed it .

He pulled me out with a strength far greater than that of the monsters as it was backed by god's will . He pulled me out and pushed me into a building and to relax finally in the arms of safety.

I came home that night and paced into my toilet . I stood there in deep contemplation and a blank expression . I touched myself and for the first time-i hated it . I took off my clothes and stood in front of the mirror . I saw an innocence ( for the first time) in MY eyes , an innocence which reflected what stupidity could do to you , an innocence which stared back at me , it was my innocence ( i now understood ) which mocked me !!

That Eden day....

It was a match between Kolkata and Mumbai.......The horde walked about the permissable area at Eden and eventually settled at places providing them with a lucid vision of the match . I came two minutes before the primary objective of few (the match) begun . I placed newspapers on the filthy seat followed by myself . The match commenced and I am still yet to comprehend why skimpily clad women are paid to occasionally dance on miniature stages trying their level best to entice the crowd into doing '' god-knows-what'' . As the match continued to take its course i realised that people were not there to watch the match . They were there for innumerable other reasons . To watch scantily clad women , to watch S.R.K perform his pretence of depression and elation , to come on television ( which was amusing as well as annoying ) . The enthusiastic people in front of me would stand up at the drop of a hat . Whenever an over ended , whenever anyone got out , whenever naked women came on stage and ofcourse whenever the song '' Korbo Lorbo Jeetbo Re '' filled the stadium .
Like always there had to be a fat aunty (moti aunty) who kept on standing up to pass potato chips to the idiotic kids who were making quite a din . And whenever she did so, all the people behind her screamed ''Moti aunty boshe jan '' . But she never learnt her lesson . Well , behind me there were two well-educated but weirdly intolerant and intense ''bong'' people ( no hard feelings but i luv bongs ) who refused to bear any interference in watching the match . So one can estimate the amount of loud, harsh and rapid bengali my ears were subjected to . Deepak bajaj , a cricket addict ( as he introduced himself ), sat next to Mr.Bongabashi ( a true KKR supporter). Bajaj was confused as to whether his heart would win or his head. Now , Bajaaj would simply go on about what his heart thought , what his mind thought , why he predicted kolkata losing , what the international book of cricket rules said ,etc. Mr. bongabashii could take it no more and they soon got caught up in an argument which was called off only when Bonga decided to shut up....How i loved to witness all of it !!!
Now behind Deepak and bongabashi was this 17 yr old guy with everlastingly bubbly hope(called Vinayak) . He spoke less , thought more and had already developed a dislike for Deepak like many others. When Hussey started hitting out Deepak slipped out to avoid having to answer us supporters .....When the match ended Vinayak very adorably crossed his fingers and said that the key is in being POSITIVE....As we all know Knight Riders won .... Vinayak , Bongabashi and i had by then developed a friendship .
Screams of ''lal topi'' , ''moti aunty'' , ''come on DADA '' , the deafening mexican waves , the ''oye oye oye '', the gaali giving , the being positive ,the baraat dancing , the finger whistling and all of the madness . They all made my day and they all make up a typical day at Eden . Lastly , i like to say " FUCK OFF CLUBHOUSE '' and id wish them the luck of maybe once in their life enjoying the essence of a real cricket match......

TO MY CLASS.......

This first blog undoubtedly goes out to my class . I am totally indebted to each one of the forty odd students which make an indispensable part of this family for allowing me to play a role in the happenings of 10-2 . Debopriya's early morning hugs , Zarin(e)'s loudspeaker voice , Alia'a 10,000 times straightened hair hurling beautifully , blockin sum female's view behind her or the inevitable fights between blah and blah causing '' Ronaa dhona '' and desperate attempts of reconciliation by others interested . I used to enjoy every scintillating bit of it and later on fancy every bit of it and now i can only reminisce bits of it . Once , i had sneaked into a science class and with a few thoughts combined with a dash of dictionary i wrote a few lines . Which are the same few lines which may just succeed to convey what id always miserably fail to .

Glimmering rays filters through the glass ,
Movement seems to be stunned forever ,
Forty distracted girls in the class ,
These days will be forgotten never .

The silent clamour in my head ,
The incessant ticking of the clock ,
Gibberish are the words being said ,
10-2 , i claim , will always rock !!!

Yup , my class means a great deal to me . We've had our times of ' masti ' by screaming , singing , eating , playing the fool , pissing off so many teachers (specially MRS. DUTT....im seriously paranoid of that name by now......) , facing the 'jhaars' which we were so often subjected to , the perpetual entertainers ( sheeba , meghna , rashi n zarin dancin ) GOSH.....just how can i not miss these ppl......Id like to end with admitting me havin a confused heart which doesn't know whether to rejoice or mourn....Well , i'm gonna continue to piss u ppl off for atleast four months in a year....lolz...Luv each of u all loads....The way the suns rays helps the flowers to bloom , i'll always have a hand ready to offer and help ready to give to any of u gals.......