Looking at a picture of her, posing in front of a car, needless to say in Canada, I felt proud of falling for someone who was worth it, and went on to the extent of taking an oath that, whatever happens with our fates, study remains the first priority of my life, and soon I will be looking forward to my dream of going out to gain exposure, and then afterwards, a degree from a foreign university.
Contrary to the popular belief, I know exactly what I am doing.
- 30th Sept. '11
Friday, September 30, 2011
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Notes from a living room: 8
Times of India didn't publish my writing this year. So dejecting. Not in a mood to do anything.
Pallabi went to Canada yesterday.
-27th Sept. '11
Pallabi went to Canada yesterday.
-27th Sept. '11
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Notes from a living room: 7
Many stories are due...plots in my head, but can't convert them into paper. 'Love is a four-letter word', 'At five in the afternoon', 'Salted' and others. Can't think of one at a time.
Attachments. Regrets. Betrayal. Decisions. Time. Love. Loyalty. Waiting...
Some happenings in my life tells me one day I will be free from every attachment I have ever had in my life. Either way, once I am out of Kolkata, there is no coming back for me. But it's a bit dejecting that this city has actually failed to give me something which can be an attachment for my upcoming life, that way. I mean, what should I come back for?
So many things I wanted to say. So many things are there. But there isn't anyone to listen to. So I've stopped. I have stopped spilling everything out. One day I will be someone busy with real things of life, and maybe I will not look back to people at all. It has happened in the past, and who knows, maybe it will happen again.
Was going through the first copy of Friday, the same novel on which I was working for almost three years now...and found out that I have matured in these years a lot, both in thinking process and constructing the idea. Friday will take time, though. Atleast not before six-seven years.
Now waiting eagerly for the Spellbound edition of this year.
-September 20 '11
Attachments. Regrets. Betrayal. Decisions. Time. Love. Loyalty. Waiting...
Some happenings in my life tells me one day I will be free from every attachment I have ever had in my life. Either way, once I am out of Kolkata, there is no coming back for me. But it's a bit dejecting that this city has actually failed to give me something which can be an attachment for my upcoming life, that way. I mean, what should I come back for?
So many things I wanted to say. So many things are there. But there isn't anyone to listen to. So I've stopped. I have stopped spilling everything out. One day I will be someone busy with real things of life, and maybe I will not look back to people at all. It has happened in the past, and who knows, maybe it will happen again.
Was going through the first copy of Friday, the same novel on which I was working for almost three years now...and found out that I have matured in these years a lot, both in thinking process and constructing the idea. Friday will take time, though. Atleast not before six-seven years.
Now waiting eagerly for the Spellbound edition of this year.
-September 20 '11
Friday, September 9, 2011
…The night I ran
It had been pouring all day long. But I was determined to make it to the church that day, it was my birthday. The church wouldn’t have opened, my friends warned me about the infamous graveyard across the church, but it could not stop me. I had a different plan.
The district pickle-exhibition was happening just a few blocks away from the church and given the weather, I was sure that some of the volunteers would be absent today. So there is a possibility that I can act as one of them and get to taste the tastiest pickles from around the district. I was thrilled.
And it happened so. But unlike as I thought, the exhibition came to an end very late. It was already eleven at night. I took the shortcut via the old jail-building and the graveyard and through the college ground.
Just after I crossed the church, the old jail-building came into notice. It remained abandoned for years, and was used at the time of pre-independence to hang the rebels. Stories were that one could hear droppings of blood, hear strange cry from inside that uninhibited jail-place. Rumors and history had made it mysterious, forever.
And then something in the middle of the cemetery caught my eye: a figure wearing a white gown standing still. I don’t remember how much time had passed but eventually it turned at me, as I realised that I had stopped and was still stoned to the ground. I hurried my steps to make my way to the college ground.
And then I realised I was not alone. I looked back and found that the white figure has followed me to the ground.
I doubled my speed. I had to cross the ground diagonally to reach the main road, and all I knew was once I’m there, I’m safe. The scythe-shaped moon made the ground half-lighted, and as secretive as it could be.
I started running, only to find my follower doing the same. My heart thumped like a hammer, as the Neems and Peepuls kept going behind against the run, and then all my hairs stood up from the root in excitement and fear to bring tears in my eyes when I heard the sound…
Dhup.. dhup.. dhup!
It’s still following me! I realised that I was close to the main road and kept running. I jumped over the old abandoned well of the compound nearby and came on the main road. I found the night show of the local cinema hall has broken, and people have started to come out. I knew I was safe, and then out of curiosity I looked back.
I saw the white figure standing fifty meters away, looking at me. And then it turned into a wheel-shaped object, rolled a few times and fitted exactly on the mouth of the well I jumped a few seconds ago.
The last thing I remember was I threw a cry, as some of the men came running in and everything went dark afterwards.
- 9th September '11, written for the spellbound competition 2011, with loads of hope for it to get published.
The district pickle-exhibition was happening just a few blocks away from the church and given the weather, I was sure that some of the volunteers would be absent today. So there is a possibility that I can act as one of them and get to taste the tastiest pickles from around the district. I was thrilled.
And it happened so. But unlike as I thought, the exhibition came to an end very late. It was already eleven at night. I took the shortcut via the old jail-building and the graveyard and through the college ground.
Just after I crossed the church, the old jail-building came into notice. It remained abandoned for years, and was used at the time of pre-independence to hang the rebels. Stories were that one could hear droppings of blood, hear strange cry from inside that uninhibited jail-place. Rumors and history had made it mysterious, forever.
And then something in the middle of the cemetery caught my eye: a figure wearing a white gown standing still. I don’t remember how much time had passed but eventually it turned at me, as I realised that I had stopped and was still stoned to the ground. I hurried my steps to make my way to the college ground.
And then I realised I was not alone. I looked back and found that the white figure has followed me to the ground.
I doubled my speed. I had to cross the ground diagonally to reach the main road, and all I knew was once I’m there, I’m safe. The scythe-shaped moon made the ground half-lighted, and as secretive as it could be.
I started running, only to find my follower doing the same. My heart thumped like a hammer, as the Neems and Peepuls kept going behind against the run, and then all my hairs stood up from the root in excitement and fear to bring tears in my eyes when I heard the sound…
Dhup.. dhup.. dhup!
It’s still following me! I realised that I was close to the main road and kept running. I jumped over the old abandoned well of the compound nearby and came on the main road. I found the night show of the local cinema hall has broken, and people have started to come out. I knew I was safe, and then out of curiosity I looked back.
I saw the white figure standing fifty meters away, looking at me. And then it turned into a wheel-shaped object, rolled a few times and fitted exactly on the mouth of the well I jumped a few seconds ago.
The last thing I remember was I threw a cry, as some of the men came running in and everything went dark afterwards.
- 9th September '11, written for the spellbound competition 2011, with loads of hope for it to get published.
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