Monday, December 21, 2009

Winter's Grace

I saw a frozen dewdrop on a thorn of a cactus.
"Are you here?", I asked.

"Yes sugar", whispered winter.

I live in a hot city. Snowy hills, white roads and frozen lakes aren't here.
I never glided, I never skated.
But still I love winter. I found a silent grace in Winter's footsteps.
I love it when I'm alone at my balcony at a wintry dawn with my hands under the warm wrapper around me and the city sleeps.

And the nights with frozen stars and cold loneliness.
I love every bit of it.

Winter makes me feel like a lone teardrop. There's something so romantic about it.
Yet, I don't long for some warmth in my cold nights. I want to be hurt, more hurt and alone.
A love for pain winter brings in me.
…I don't know why and how.

1 week passed by.
I woke up being all sweaty and dizzy.
I came out in the balcony; the sun was still beyond the horizon. I closed my eyes and muttered “Are you here?”
No answer.
I asked again, “Are you here winter?”
I smelled something. Oh god, I was perspiring and stinking!!

It’s painful to live the whole year and not taste winter.
It came, slowly, and it was gone before I could take out my woolen sweaters.
Oh come on, how winter can be cold about my feeling towards it and my woolen outfits?
Hey wait….it’s his nature, ain’t it? -_-

I have been to wonderful winter wonderlands, and I love it.
Why can’t it snow here?
I am tired of finding its hidden grace in lanes and corners of this dirty dirty hot city [not really]. But wait, I don’t wanna live here in winter. I want to runaway to a snowy place; I want to sit beside campfire on a mountain side. I want to play in snow, I want to crawl under blankets and warm sheets and enjoy the empty cold afternoons.
I want to live in a house with snow covered top and frosted trees around.
And all I get is a chilly dawn and semi-chilly early morning. Hardly 3 hours. Y_Y

Don’t you ever want to get lost in dark snowy forest of Oaks, Beeches and Pines?
Well, I want and this dream ends up with horns of rickshaws and autos.

And my winter is for sure not silent when I’m with such a noisy pile of humans. I won’t even be surprised if I get waked up by loud farts and unfamiliar family screams <_<

I need to get rid of it ASAP. I’ll score nice marks, take a nice job and escape.
I recalled something just now….

*opens text book in urgency*


Note : The photo is by Niladri.

Sunday, December 20, 2009

I dare - NOT

This week, Sunday Scribblings gave us a dare to write on DARE.
And this is a new remix version of an old poem I'm posting with dare, related to this dare thing which I lack dreadfully!
Did you understand? .__.
I hope not.

The Poem Which Was Never Written
The poem which was never written
Stares at me silently,
Looks at my anxiety without a cause,
My sobbing without any tear,
My dreams with a baloney dare!
She laughs looking at me,
My white blank papers.
I could only tell her some words -
Words which have no meaning at all,
But would it be alright?
Would she be contented with that,
Or would she chase me again?
Does she scare me or she inspire?
Does that poem have a body?
A real figure, smiling lips?
Some love in a little heart n' feelings within?
Whenever I try to grab her-
She disappears;
And when I try to escape-
She chases me!
That poem whispers in my ears
Some shocking lines!
She tells me to write her on those blank papers,
Put radical thoughts in it,
Infuse some dreams of Utopia-
And burn the world with her words...
She is just a stupid, a heck of stupid being -
She doesn't even know that
This puny creature is too fragile to do that!

Sunday, December 13, 2009

Brave is what they call it

"Take chances, make mistakes. That's how you grow. Pain nourishes your courage. You have to fail in order to practice being brave."  
~ Mary Tyler Moore
>>She looked through her life, autopsy of long 17 years.
She wanted to see elated moments; she wanted to feel serenity over her eyelids one more time.
But things don’t work out the way we want them to be most of the times.
As the result of the truth upwards, she found despair, betrayal, pain and the feeling of losing grip on good things. She saw the most of the people she loved, have always hated her, have broken her trust into pieces, have taken her advantages, have humiliated her uncountable times.
She stood blankly; love, pain and tears were long gone.
Tell her, she can’t shatter like that. She has a wonderful gift of life. She has food, clothes, shelter, some more people to love. Not everyone on this earth is at least that much lucky.
Show her those beggars, those children in the slums, roadside, and tell her that there are much better things to live for.
Sometime life turns out to be intolerable. But sorrow is the main component of life. If there is no sorrow, you can never find the beauty of joy. May be you are sad today, but have faith on life; you would be happy tomorrow, or the day after tomorrow.
If the start is worst, the end has to be best. Or life would have lost its charm.

Holding on is what helps us to live. Faith is what gives us strength to take another breathe, with the hope that the next breathe may not be poisonous.
Or even if it is, you would never have to regret for not taking the chance after being killed by the worst.

If there is a mountain that can’t be climbed, know that the mountain doesn’t exist. Giving every chance a try is what makes a real worthy life. Because when you die, you would be able to say that your life hasn’t gone to waste and you are not going away without doing anything for yourself and this world. Only then, you would be remembered as what they call BRAVE.

Pencil I'm first time writing for Sunday Scribblings. They gave this topic and this is something I came up with.
I don't know if I made any sense or not. Hexentanz

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Think. Can you?

No, you can't.
At least not what I'm thinking.
Because I'm not thinking anything -_-

Well, colorless days are hard to tolerate.
So I’m going through a monochromic time, and so do the rest of my mates.
Pre-boards result came out and I sucked.
I knew I would.
So I’m less online now and studying more.
I. am. Great.
And I am going to achieve 80% anyway.

I barely want to cut bad marks and regret for the rest of my life :[

And I really want to talk to Viggy guy. But that sick boy is sick now.
Get well soon. I miss my listener x(

And mom suspected, but couldn’t make out that I broke the camera. Lack of evidence heh! I’m a perfect criminal….bw ha ha haaa!
I want the cam to be fixed soon!
Because – I was sitting on the riverbed of Ganges watching the sun melting in the river and I was holding a manual SLR camera with only one capture left and desparately waiting for a perfect moment to come that I can get my nice shot. Fixing the perfect focus, aperture gave me real headache. Well, I missed my Nikon Coolpix digicam

The most creative thing I do now is this-
I sit in my bedroom with my legs in two different directions and look at my dirtily crafted wall.

Oh, I painted a shitty lamp and it gives nice light effect now xD

I feel too lazy to write now.
I also get a weird feeling and think of being an intellectual looking classic Bengali girl with a poetic look [read cotton salwar-kamij, artistic accessories and specs].

I go mad at times.
Never mind.

I’m clueless about what I’m writing now.
So, never mind again.

Okay now, now take a look at something nice. Mom collected this piece of dead twig few years ago. Just observe its shape. It shapes like a dancer's pose and I find it amazing. Mom's observation power is great. I suck at everything she is good in xD

Saturday, December 5, 2009

P.S.- I love you

Holding my breath inside
I step outside the door,
I wish I could see you there
standing for me with a bunch of rose.
Downtown I slowly go,
Counting the maple leaves
scattered all along...
Cold dewdrops on the grass blade
Touch my feet gently,
I shiver and think of you.
Siting on a roadside bench
I wonder in the emptiness -
How my dreams are lost within you...
Slowly I sing the song you wrote;
Words are not enough now,
Because There is so much left to tell you. . .

P.S.~ I love you.

I wrote it because of my alter-ego!
She is a hopeless romantic moron.
She lives here --> Bad Pixie's Dane

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Three Cheers For Sweet Dorks

How many times are there that you have been humiliated in public or personally?
No. You can’t tell exactly the number of times, because they are so many. 
I may sound unfamiliar to some people. But there remain the rest of us, the people who are not so beloved, not so popular and not somebody. I’m speaking for them.
There have been times when I used to be kinda dull and preppy types. I was another ignored, not-so-special, alone and afraid kid in the crowd. Then there came some turns in the road of life that changed me. I’m not telling that I rule now, [not like that I want to]…
But I have changed and changed for the good.

Well, I’m not here to sing my surviving saga.
I just want to scribble the very commonly uncommon feelings that one has.

I wished my life were a better movie. But I can’t complain and sit back, I have to work for it.
And there are numerous kinds of people telling you that you can’t, that you are a DOLT, and that you are good for nothing.
What would happen if we just listen to those useless shit and sit back cursing our fates?
But we can’t. This is our lives and we have to make it the coolest of our types xD
Call me a dork, I don’t care.
Title me as a “Grammatically Disoriented Person” because of my grammatical errors, I won’t stop writing or write even an inch less.
And some people would also say that I can do nothing but put up every little thing in my whiney blog which is barely read by pips.
Again, I don’t care,
I write for myself, and I would keep writing even if anyone reads or not. 
Because this is sorta my journal. And oh yes, I have the guts to write everything about myself and anyone can read this. So, I’m not a coward anyway.
And today I feel not ashamed by a single thing; not my height, my broken English speaking power, my shoddy school, nothing….simply nothing!
And even if I am a dork, I don’t mind being one. 
I dance around my apartment in pajamas, I eat burgers after operating their tummies, I make weird faces in public, I laugh hysterically in the coolest of the crowds, I point at people and say things loudly in places like Shopping Malls, I like cartoonish curtains, I act like a child at home, I like making bubbles with chewing gum and soap-water, I run on the middle of a road and I lick egg before eating it.
Yes. I am a dork. I am a lazy-bum and I am good at my works.
And I’m a nice human being. 
And I hate those who like to hate.
So, if these make me a dork, then I am one.
Feel pride if you are one too.
Three Cheers For Sweet Dorks. 

Peace out.

I made my own cartoon, oh yeah! xD

Saturday, November 28, 2009

In The End

“Water…some water”
I heard a broken voice crying behind me –
Another dying soldier lying on this earth
With a bleeding leg and a bullet in his chest.
Slowly he cried for some drops of life,
I could be the savior or could I not?
At least they say we are the saviors of the country…
So I stepped ahead to bring back a life in dead desert;
And fast came the gift of war towards my heart
And rested within tearing it apart…
Nothing was felt but a soundless pain,
Flowing of blood what I could see, only,
And I fell weakly on my knees…
No more I heard the cry for water,
Not even sounds of guns and bombs…
But there were voices, again and again, 
Coming fast and fading away;
Did I hear screams of death or prayers of life?
Or was it the mixed up thoughts of mine?
Reflections of memory went one by one…
I saw the beautiful dusk melted in love,
I smelled fragrance of the fields outside my window,
I remembered the old tree beside my house,
The playing kids in the lane, the bell of recess,
I heard my guitar been played again…
And unknowingly I knew I was going to bed
For my endless sleep and peaceful rest,
I knew I would never touch her hair again,
I knew I was to leave my love, my pains…
And another bullet stroked my leg,
Down I fell on the wet earth, numb and senseless…
It was the time to go, to walk beyond this world,
Away from the morning dews and cold war nights,
In a solitary cell they would call a soldier’s grave.

Note: random thought. :|
and yeah, Mr. Owen inspired me a bit. 

Monday, November 23, 2009

A Reverie

When you stand at the end of the fight and look at all that you have lost, do you smile for the winning or cry for the loss?

Time is ticking by, your soul is getting old, give yourself one more chance, put back your lone heart’s pieces together again.
There is a spark hidden under your clothes, shred those fabrics, and let that spark shine.
And may be then you would be able to hear the hidden sonata of life.

When I’m alone, silent is the wind and like everything is fading away too fast to be caught, I feel like screaming with all my heart. The road that I’m running on is endless and the song at the end of the movie is going on, lingering is the peace of longing solitude within me.
I cry, slowly; I turn back, I see a beam of light within the darkness, I try to touch it, and the world spins around and goes upside down….suddenly I wake up. I see a piece of sunshine on my bed, lying beside me, I smile, and the dust fairies dancing in that sun beam wish me “Good morning”.

Friday, November 6, 2009


As she always chased a fairytale

Running with bleeding feet,
Her love was wounded,
She couldn’t stand the pain…

As she always chased a fairytale
And it could never be hers,
She found her solace in
Fallen leaves and drops of rain…

Monday, November 2, 2009

My hair got fire xD

Since I saw that I have 40 followers now and actually not really stuck at 7 comments, I feel good.
laugh. that's what I want!
so, lets write something lame. [yeyy, cheers for me]

A girl asked me, "OMG Aritry! you had nice hair, what did you do with it?"

me - "It got fire somehow, so I needed to cut it."

she was like ----> O_o

Me n' Satadipa walked passed her. Then Sat laughed out loud.

Sat: "Dude, are you crazy? what the hell you told that nerdo?"
Me: " Didn't you hear? what more can I say. I am at my wits end."
Sat: "But fire?!!"
Me: "yeah, did ya see her face? Her eyes were like eggs."
Sat: "Aren't they normally eggs?"
We both laughed our asses off.
we did.


I went to my school's exhibition  today with friends. I made fun of some idiotic projects, I acted seriously in the Philosophy exhibition and actually harassed a girl.
I kicked a boy I know. :)

My school is a girls' school.
But anyone can come in the exhibition. So there was like a fair going on where we could see more group of boys than our own girls.
May be 0.5% of them were interested in the exhibition thingy actually! lol
But I didn't like a single lad.
I only said "Hi, how are you?" to my batch mate Hasmukhlal [not real name], I had a crush on him, or may be still do. But he is only good in looks, he is not at all smart........but so HOT! T_T

Hasmukhlal = I have a bad habbit of naming people. he always smiles, no matter what, or even if there is no matter at all!! .__. so he is the "Hasmukhlal"
In case you don't know hindi, this name means - 'a person with teeth out always, smiling'

so, at the end of the day, it was all good. Even after I slept a bit in my physics tution class, it was okay
I am feeling happy. :)
[heard Dips?]

Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Her Peace

She was sitting on the riverside,
Swathed with the shaft of dawn,
Breathing in a lone moment…

The early wintry breeze shivered her,
She gazed at the flow of water blankly…
Wishing her life to pass by fast like this.

Peace she has now is more bitter and painful,
It is the peace of silence, no screams, no sound
And she felt her words lost in somewhere else.

Peace she wanted, engulfed with love and tenderness,
The peace she never had, she never tasted,
May be her frozen eyes still longs for it…

And may be she could wait up for something
To change her life, to soothe her wounds,
But she was too broken to stand up and fight back again.

For life has given her more and more pain,
Rapturous feelings she never expects
Even her sore eyes never bled again.

She still sits there, and the sun rises and sets …
But she never came back from where she was gone
As she has found another peace in the lone vale of silence.