A Little North Of Normality

Your lips touched my lips... It isn't the first time.... We have shared many kisses light and deep... but This time it is shelter ,I seek from those lips... In stories dark and dread... Demons , ghosts , dark shades of red... The princess dies a thousand deaths to live... Yet at last the prince wins her ,relief... Yet in the suburbs of heart... Demons engaged a fierce fight.... One shouts Ravage The Flower... Supplicate, whispers the other... You are in fact my dearest Shalmoli You rise far above all... Your lips touched my lips... Intangible, I ignore the rest....

I question thee with all my heart, I question thee of thought... I question thee why day and night, You crave for love begot... What is love, what is faith... Is it pain and grief? Is it tears or sorrow dear... Is it sigh of grief... Then why the quest, why the crave, why the need for more... For what joy do they cry and cry...and believe happiness is in store... Through my eyes all is nice.. See all new ... See all pure.. The bluish sky , the sparkling trees... Moonlight still, is sad am sure.. They laugh they sing and jump around ... To feel the life and drop dead on ground.. The sense of pain, the sense of tear.. They realise none in all endear.... The flowers droop in smile and gay... The moonlight gladly fades away The stars they sink in oceans vast... Yet the joy in their smiles last... Peace I have a lot share... Allow me to take good care... The happy heart sings aloud... Will soothe the pain , the dark shroud... Everything will make thee sad.. A day you smile i...

It all started in Presidency College. The first kiss,  the first bout of anger,  the first getting wet in the rain. Shreya and Srijan loved what they had. They loved being in love,  cuddly, cosy and always into each other.  They were the sort,  who were outcasted from society due to their "coupletiness" . They existed in a world segregated from friends,  family. They were mesmerised by each other,  in a sense they started living in a virtual world that they created, until one day when Srijan went abroad. He realised the potential of being alone,  of creating for himself,  for the joy which he didn't know could come from sheer self indulgence. He realised the matters if the heart blunts the brain, cripples it,  makes it focus on things which need lesser attention. He realised that the relationship though beautiful was a hindrance. He realised that the world is a vast place and "perfect" can't lie within one.... Years went by and t...

Please don't show me all that was never there... Every change makes me want to return home scared... The sunshine in your eyes, never bids me farewell... I am scared of the sorrow tell tale... The body is all that's recognized... And the mind and soul ignored... Still I enforce the friendship...for old times sake... I rule a different kingdom today... I am a homeless bird...in disguise... I wish to sing by your lap.. Sing to you your favourite tune...reprise... Long after this... you won't ever recognize even this face... You won't call me by that name... won't be remembered... I don't know which cloud laden sunshine.. Shall drive away those little creatures that fly... While you cry in your sleep... I shall count all the faults and weep...

Rajiv never bothered about the way he looked. He always believed that clothes were for wearing and that's about it. A good brand and comfort was all he cared about, never focusing on colour, fit and stuff like colour coordination. He always felt he looked good enough and the rest was taken care by Supriya. She was the one with the subtle sense of aesthetics. The one with an inherent sense of colour,  texture and feel. It was as if she could forsee the look by just glancing at th display racks. They never had enough to buy the best for years. Always settling for a lower priced edition, searching for the cheaper alternatives but never really compromising on looks and appearance. It was difficult to tell without peeking behind the neck that it wasn't a premium buy..... Rajiv could buy the shop today,  he finally could buy based on preference and choice instead of a budget but he didn't feel like. He grabbed a few tees and couple of jeans and headed towards the tr...

Can you hear the time passing by, The chariot wheel's fleeting cry .... Raising the heart beats of empty space, Run over by the wheels, the stars weep, in disgrace... O friend, that fleeting time, has consumed me in its rhyme.... Has dragged me on the chariot seat.... On a journey unknown, courageously discreet... Far far away from you....A thousand deaths I overcame... A new beginning at its very peak...The chariot pace has blown away my past name.... It is a point of no return... If you still look far and try... You wont recognise me.... Dear friend... Goodbye! Sometime in leisure under the wind and sky... Sitting on the banks of memories , the night shall sigh... The day when the tears of blossoms will hurt the sky... In that moment try..... To find the remnants of my heart... And it will give you light, dreamy subtle and slight... But its not a dream , its true... Its my love, changeless, eternal for you .. On change I float and drift apart... On a jou...

Rupsha always had the final say. No matter what Sohail wrote, she had to edit. Just had to. Sohail was a brilliant author, he could paint with words. He could tickle, provoke,  incite and excite with his pen but he was too casual with construction and punctuation.. Rupsha knew that after was done with it,  it was a perfect piece. She knew Sohail wrote for her,  he always had, for the last 6 years she was all he wrote for... Sometimes explicitly, sometimes subtly but the objective was always a nod of approval from her. Sohail loved that look,  curly hair,  kohl laden eyes and that smile which meant the world to him.... Sohail wrote something today... Rupsha wasn't there to edit anymore... Rupsha saw it on Facebook.... She went through it... It had so many errors... Yet it struck the heart, just as it always did.... But she knew she couldn't correct him anymore,  the mistakes were too personal... She had lost the right... Sohail still wrote... Now for...

Radhika and Rishab knew nothing about love. Both carefree and simple, believed that love was for the losers. Career,  marks,  success is what you love,  how can you love a person? Love was just a four letter word for them. It meant nothing more than any other four letter word. It was when Radhika left for UK,  that Rishab realised the true meaning of love. He realised that it was real and after a point nothing else matters but the person who you want to be with,  nothing smells sweeter than the hair,  more refreshing than the touch,  more inspiring than those words... Time went on and with days Rishab and Radhika found success.... 18 years later... At Delhi Airport they met again,  Radhika was with a young girl,  she was still very beautiful,  at least that wouldn't change for Rishab ever,  but age did catch up. The pink had been replaced with a sombre green,  the kohl now a couple of shades lighter,  the shades ...

Derek never smoked again. That was one promise he had to keep. If there was anything Ellen hated more was a cigarette. It was for the first time that someone could convince him that smoking was bad. Actually to be very honest, he didn't care about the bad but Ellen s scowl was definitely not worth a thousand puffs of smoke. Its been years, he faintly remembers how Ellen looked like... Years of existence, struggle, glory, joy and above all Ann had made him forget the bitterness of the parting. It took him a couple of years, but eventually he realised that not all was lost,  in fact nothing was. Derek is a grandfather now. His grandson graduated last month. He was a man who had played his part, all he wanted in life was a happy and peaceful death.. Meanwhile Ellen in another part of the world had also crossed the barrier of grandmotherhood. Her grandson was still in high school. Ellen s daughter , April, had a huge business to handle. Her fathers business empire was growing...

Its been rather boring, the days are coming and going by. The world has been a safer place, a nicer place, a place where the path is straight, thats all we hope for, right?Ummm! The position am in at this point of time, I feel the journey is getting too monotonous, the challenges are too vague, the people around me , too predictable, too familiar.Am I living my dream, am I doing things I wanted to, am I doing things at all, very philosophical are these questions, yet I seek the answers. Low, disturbed, deep down, yet apparently perfect and happy. I am confused about what I really feel. I feel the need to express, to say so much, but I do not have listeners, I feel that those who cared, those who listened, have lost interest. The performance is no longer that grand, the expressions , no longer that clear and provoking....  Ambition is a good thing, the popular belief.. The human emotion, which pushes it, pulls it through, which instills a ruthlessness , necessary for succes...

Amidst the weirdest excuses one can give himself , melancholy is the lamest one....  The life as I know it, is not the one where utopian ideas, reign supreme, but rather something where practicality leads to a conscious utopia. Friends and family are always there, they are comforting but in the end the journey happens alone, the consequences are faced by just one, the glory is seldom shared.  Friendship is the essence of life and I know and believe that it is perhaps one the best gifts life gives to its performers , but then again the performance comes at a price. The definitions of friendship is rather vague, the extremities and generalization of such a definition can be misleading at times however , hope burns bright in the human breast.  I have made a thousand promises, I have kept many, but that might never be enough. Every person you trust and love are subjective, every man and woman who care for you are also subjective and relative, so what is the whole point...

This is a story of a man and woman, no, it's no longer obvious these days. The story is real , and the parts I do not remember I will make up. Okay, please be hush about the fact that, I didint really take any permission before I planning to write this story. Anyway , hoping that they won mind, let me proceed. This was a boy, an Indian of course, I said it's real in the beginning and he was kind of desperate. I can't exactly elaborate on the desperation on facebook, but trust me when I say he was. He used to be a good boy, now if that sounds contradictory , with desperate, then I would be like hey, look at is grades, so yeah good grades made him a good boy. I diidn't like him much , he was not my type, way out of my league, but ya he was kind of fond of me, no not that kind , normal "fond" ! Okay, let's make this very clear at this very point , that I am not writing this, in his fond memories or something, you will soon realise why, and to be very...

Alo amar ruddho golaye Jore jore ney sash, Tomar thother bheja choyay, Kori nako biswas... Kaal ke jara bondhu chilo, Aj ke tara ori, Tomar mukhe beche thakar gaan, Ar tader bolo hori... Prodip sikha santo je boro, Shanti kothaye pash? Pure pure toh shob gelo jole, Ekhono meteni aash? Kak dake roj bikel belaye, Ghor kone bole ghori, Somoyta jaye toder kete, Ami tik tik kore mori... Kaal raate ki chaad uthechilo, Rupor khoje kaalo, tai bujhi shei bihobol daak, Ek fota jalo alo... Byatha je barche,bedona probol, Chaya chumu khawa alo... Amar jibone rong nei kono, Sudhui Sada Kalo ....

Alor shari, Baghbajari, Ma chollen ghore, Kintu sohor dukkho glanir juddho ke ba lorey, 5 din e ki jay ta jeta, Ek bochorer klesh, Ei bole oi sadist gulo thont fuliyeche besh... Ma ki amar jemon temon,5 din e tei tai... Anonder ek ogadh plabon,Dheuer sesh nai! Phuckawala, kabuliwala, muchi theke roll 5 dine te Mahamaya Kataye shobar omongol! Ebochor ta special bodhoy, sesh kichu jon pashe, Next year e bidesh bibhui, shob uccho gyaaner aashe.. Tobuo jani pachta dine, mukhti kore boro... Korte pare Dugga Thakur, Shob sundor joro! Ebochor ta mati gelo, jor ta barabari, Raag kore tai tomar saathe du din chilo aari, Aj ke tobe bidaye belay porlo kotha mone, Tai to ami chutte gelam, er por to phone e.. Steve jobs tao porlo kete, mon ta boro bhari, Ma go tumi abaar esho, koddin ar pari? Ekdalia, Kumortuli egulo to chuto , Tumi e reason, only reason, aar notun jama juto ... 22 e Srabon, bajir rabon, pujor shuru-sesh... Aloker ei jhornadhar...

A Different Feel by Osibek Pal on Thursday, March 31, 2011 at 2:50pm  To, Manimanjari Sengupta THIS IS NOT A TRANSLATION OR AN INTERPRETATION OF THE SONG, ITS THE ENGLISH VERSION , OF " BECHE THAKAR GAAN" ORIGINAL VERSION BY ANUPAM ROY, WRITTEN IN THE SAME THEME, HOWEVER THERE ARE SOME OBVIOUS DIFFERENCES IN THOUGHT, FOR THE SAKE OF RHYME SCHEME, LET ME KNOW HOW YOU LIKE THIS VERSION...   Force me to forget a paintbrush..  And learn just light and dark..   Remember ,I wont comply...  Wont Pragmatise life, if you ask...     Banish me from your life's tell tale...  I wouldn't complain.... But ask me to justify my love...   I wouldn't , not if I am slain..     Cause, I have seen it all, known it all...  Quick sand, is not just for the beaches...  It has drained life, breath, blood and love,  let alone petty riches..     Cause, I have seen it all, known it all, ti...

In the happy mothers lap Lies are prize of pain All the more the deary smiles His mother is all to gain Hungry days and sleepless nights she pampered him warm in bed she kissed him soft and hugged him tight and performed all he said up he grew a young boy his mother in pride would smile lullaby like the morning sun he shone like an evening Nile Then he married an young girl Pretty as his mom once was all changed in moments time his love was all for In-Laws. Alone and old his mother worked struggling all the way like she did for her son once now its just the other way Tired feverish helpless down gasping in deep breath No one to serve her even water or to love her instead Its blood in birth and blood in life its blood in death as well what s then left in this bloody life whats then left in Hell!

Jani na keno je amar sudhui odhoppoton.... nimno gami, thanda sroter nei ko kono joton... Shob kichu tei mojud ami.... okleshe ebong free te, brithai tai belaye amay... Manush nijer krite... Amay ghirei abeg joto amay ghiei prem... Ami holam prothom buli... Anything you name.. Ami chara, neiko manush neiko bhalobasha... Neiko harer hul bedano... Nei ko pipasha... Bashor raate...Biday belay prothom "Flaker" fuke... Kimba, abar ekla boshe. Kimba mayer buke... Jekhane sekhane pori ami jethay sethay fele kothay guje rakhe amay... Sokale ba bikele... Jar jonno eto kori sei rakhe na mone chupti kore muche fele... Rumaler ek kone... Eto kotha bolar mane shunte jodi chao, ekbar tobe choker joler paane tumi chao... Kanna ar o to dukho ache... Kanna o to bhabe Kadle tumi dekhe shobai... Ashru kothay jabe. Ekla pore, tai she bole... Kichu chai na ami... Ektu sudhu porichiti... Oi tuku to dami ?

For the greater glory we have been seeking joy from years to ages now that has been the only ploy...  Be it through pleasures be it through pain be it through envy anything to gain...  All is not lost still all is not dark there is still a tweeting dove somewhere or a nesting Lark...  In the new year tonight i pledge to my heart to seek not what i cannot get but to make a new start..  To make sure this year is a little better than last to learn from my mistakes and not repeat them fast..  To make amends and withhold the revenge if any to forget and forgive all the grudges too many...  To try and heal myself tonight for that will be all mirth it surely is easier than trying to heal the earth ... ok i know this is very childish.. but then the kid in me suddenly wants to make its presence felt... :)

Shedin bhishon bhoy petam, tokhon bhabtam er por... bhabtam aro onek koto kichu--- sonnikote jhor! Shedin chilo adhar raat shedin tarar majhe chile tumi, chilam ami adbhut ek saaje! Adhar raate bhoy pete na.. Tumi ekdino, jante ami thakle saathe Mrittuo niriho... Tobe amar bhitir seshe holo oboshan, aadhar gelo, anlo aalo onek soronjam... Ratri te aj eka lage, alor obbhese thakle tumi, parte ajo bhoy bhangate, okleshe... Kintu aalo dami boro, kichu to dite hotoi, ajke tumi, dure boro thik aamar motoi !

1. Sharpen your memory.. Remember quotes if possible to add more authenticity. 2. Never bring up fictitious topics. Stick to facts. Don't hesitate to twist facts and add f(r)iction if necessary!! 3. Never 'woof' about a friend. 4. Never 'woof' about someone whom you "woof" to. 5. Amnesia, Oblivion all come extremely handy when confronted with. 6. 'Woof's should be restricted to notorious figures. 7. If it is necessary to 'woof' about those who are popular, 'woof' enough to make him/her notorious (they should not live to tell the tale). 8. For every 'woof' make sure you have an alibi. NEVER 'woof' alone. 9. 'Woof' when u can. Not when you want to.