Sunday, December 9, 2012

Insecurities ...

Insecurities ... felt by people who aren't sure of what they are doing or where they are going or unsure about themselves and their own feelings ... let alone the others.

We all go through phases of insecurities. Be it our "Jobs" as we term it ... Be it the career we have chosen ... Be it our relations ... or just plain and simple ... Our Life.

Being Human is what brings on these insecurities and apprehensions and anxiousness ... Have you ever seen an animal feel insecure in it's natural state?
NO!

We were made, moulded, crafted and engineered to feel insecure ... that is why we have weapons of destruction and our history is marred with wars. The creator gave us brains ... which makes us think ... think good or bad ... and one thing leads to another and we ned up in a jumbled up mess... a life created by us .... a path we paved .... we tread upon.

Unsure of what lies ahead, we pack a whole lot into our baggage of Life .... some needed, some not needed ... junk ... a lot of junk, yet we can't get ourselves to rid of this junk and end up playing with our emotions and that of others ... for we are all basically egocentric and selfish and insecure ... and we can't LET GO.

Our Insecurities ...they bind us to our ego, our false pride  ... our inhibitions and so called attachments are formed ... That's when the trouble begins ...

Our insecurities squeeze the life out of us ... we go pale ... we lose sight of everything ... hindsight and foresight ... and that makes us commit mistakes ... Mistakes that take a lifetime to surface from ... Sometimes we drown in them.... sometimes we just keeping bobbing our heads in that sea of turmoil... coming up for a breather and then sinking to the bottom again ...

Our insecurities pull us down and we either drown alone or pull others along too.... depends how strong the pull is or how strong is your mental foundation ... the layering done by the mason of your character ... The stronger the foundation ... lesser the insecurities ... the weaker the masonry .... weaker the house that was built upon it ... so keep your foundations strong ... work on it and make it better with each autumn that blows its winds in your direction.

Don't let insecurities bog you down .... work a way around them ... and, move on.

Next Life ...

Next Life is what you said ... Jolt! Am back to reality .. A complete reality check .... Whew! Hope you mean it ... Next life as promised by you ...

So, raising a toast to the promise of a future after life .... Come what may ... might as well enjoy this life as you are ... So that next life is reserved just for you...

Tipping the felt of my imaginary hat, in a courteous bow and a wave of Goodbye ... Until Next life .... For I have plans of  enjoying this life without reservations ... Pop out of the shell and just worm my way through till a cocoon encrusts me and I pop out again .... in Next life...

The nut was hard to crack ... Yet I cracked it ... In the process .... Of course! Lots were affected ... the code uncoded ... The mask unveiled .... Now, waiting for Next Life ...

It takes a lot to control what isn't in your hands to handle ... It takes a lot of strength to smile and say Go on , live on .... Until Next Life ... Indeed, tough! But, live we must this life too ... So, I soar once again ... encompassing within my wingspan ... a beautiful World ... a new World from a different perspective and Live on ... until, Next Life...

No promises this time round ... No sweet nothings ... pure, brute reality ... come what may .... Enjoy what is left to the hilt ... No guilt .... Move onto next Life ...

Like the tree where birds perch and wander off, flowers from whence nectar sucked by bees ... I ain't no flower to be no more ... I ain't no benevolent tree ... I no more give shade ... I no more remain in solitude ... I  move into the World for Man has cut off my limbs and made Rocking chairs outta them ... Man has cut my trunk and turned it into a piece of art ... Man, has used my leaves to cure his apathy and Man has used my berries to quench his thirst and ward off his hunger.

I still have life left in me... coz' my roots run deep.... they are strongly entrenched ... deep rooted and strong indeed ... so, I decide to unfurl my magic again .... leaves sprouting from my scars ... a new dawn sees new life ... Until Next Life.

Saturday, December 8, 2012

Missing you ...

Missing you is all I know ...just can't imagine how I have lived so far  so long ... after a tete' a tete' with you ... am just missing you like a fish out of water .... Total bheja fry ... Can't imagine the torture of a lifetime without you anymore. Control Gal! This is what happens when you fall head over heels in love. Just another phase in life Gal... Take a hold of yourself.

Life goes on... with or without love ... Chill! It's back again ... Then why feel morose ... enjoy the moments gal and move ahead .. No more looking back.... what's left behind is lost ... There's more to life than a  few heartbreaks here and there. Move on Gal! Pudhey chalaa.. Move forward ... There's more to it than meets the eye ... just move forth and you shall find many new adventures and travails to tell tales of via your words... O Wordsmith! Spin words that bring warmth to a cold heart and chills the soul.

Your love has opened vistas in your mind ... a pathway of beautiful, soulful, melodious and pious sonnets ... sing them , bring them out ... let them all see how happy you are in your blissful World of love.

Your love has no name, no form, no religion, no caste, no creed .... yet it is pure and ecstatic ... a meeting of two brilliant minds ... a mating of two sacred souls. let not the dread of separation creep in ... enjoy while it lasts ... for you have promised yourself another birth just to be with the ONE ... the chosen one.

If missing him saddens you ... do not be anxious .. for he too misses you equally and adores you ... You worship him ... he worships you.

Even at this very moment ... when you are blogging your blues away ... he misses you and sends you messages of love.... even while he is in a crowd ... coz' his eyes search for you everywhere.... in the crowd.... you are in his heart and he is your soul.

Wait ... wait patiently ... The next life is promised and taken for sure ... the seats booked and plans made ...
Next life you shall meet him ... next life is yours as promised.

Wait my Gal ... There is a promised life beyond.

Language ki Maa Behen ...

Dhatt tere ki ...
Language ki Maa Behen karr dete hain log ...
Tere Shehar ke log ...
Sanam , tere hi Shehar ke log.

Naa sharam... naa hayaa...
Kya khoya... kya paaya ..
Kuch haath naa laga...
Toh zubaan pe Maa Behen hi aaya.

Naa aurat ki izzat...
Na hayaa ka bayaan ...
Bahut hi badmizaaaz hain ...
Tere Shehar ke log.

Jab zubaan mili hai toh ...
Zubaan ko kaabu mein rakho ...
Warna chhupp raho...
Kuch naa kaho ...
Par apni Maa Behen ki izzat toh karo.

Kya gandi zubaan paayi ...
Tere doston ne ...
Kaise aa gayi inkey chakkar mein ...
Kuch hosh hai ...
Ye shaksh kya chahtey hain tujhse ...
Apni tanhaiyyon ka maikadaa ..
Aur kuch nahi.

Zubaan ko lagaam do Sheharwalon ...
Ye maikadaa nahi ...
Machinon ka Shehar hai ...
Ye tumhara ghar nahi ...
Naa hi woh tumhaari janaani hai.

Apni naa sahi ... apni Maa ki izzat toh rakho ...
Apni behen ko sar-e-bazaar yuun be-aabroo naa karo ...
Language ki MAA BEHEN naa karo.

Friday, December 7, 2012

Winds of Change ...

A fresh breeze wafts through the window ... A new lease of life ... The leaves rustle  in the trees around ... Fresh breath of life .... I am in love .... Rabba ! Yeh pyar hai ... khumaar hai ... ya bukhaar hai.... Jo bhi hai ... mein beemar hoon ... qaid mein hoon .... apne bas mein nahi ... apne yaar ke pyar mein doobi hoon .... mujhe jaagney naa do .... Ek naya bukhaar ek nayi khumaari ... ajeeb si beemari.

Winds of change ... a different magnitude of emotions ... never experienced before .... a different feeling ... a different person from the rest ... way above them all.

He has brought a freshness in my life ... I walk with a spring in my steps ... I walk with a smile pasted on my lips ... a glow on my face .... my man .... my raqeeb ... my very own love to be loved and cherished forever.
He brightens my day and night ... His eyes show me the shine that makes me want to live forever .... entwined in his arms forever and ever.

The warmth from his being radiating into my being .... A feeling of being safe and secure .... He protects me from any harm. He is the one to give me a fresh lease of life ... The man who breezed into my life with a smile and is here to stay forever.

Every morning I wake up with his thoughts and each night he is there in my thoughts.... my days and nights have become one .... no sleep yet energetic and full of enthusiasm I perform my worldly duties. The days and nights have merged into one ... There is no looking back ... Just move forth with him beside me .... my guiding light ... my man beside me.... I can climb every mountain .. cross every ocean .... Fly like a bird ... soar high , higher .... The highest. He is in my spirit ... he makes me strong ... My strength my man ... I am but his love and his own ... My guiding light ... you are the one who has brought this wind of change ... I dedicate my changed and altered life to you.

You are my wind of change ... you are my Man. My life... my love all yours to keep....and cherish. 

Love in Winters ...

 A coziness known not to the common person but pretty well known to lovebirds who remain in their little world of dreams and each others arms ... oblivious of the stares of the material world around them ... Just deeply engrossed in each other's loving gaze.

A feeling experienced and nodded upon by people who delight in lovers frolic but frowned upon by the keepers of the society. Love in winters means meeting at rendezvous points, having corn on the cob, walking along the promenade and just reveling each others company. I see it all happening and wonder, how? This is how the masses love?

The age of moving hand in hand is coming to an end ... with high end toys replacing the conventional love letters and meeting face to face ... now meetings are done on the networking sites and on webcam ... the essence being lost to machines.

In Earlier days, the lover would travel through rough terrains and mountains and rivers and swim across oceans to be with his loved one... now he shows off the latest gadgets to get the attention he so ardently seeketh from the opposite sex. The days of the well spoken, well worded poetic language is gone; replaced by spurious statements stolen from texts written by others and shown off as their own ... or some cheap song popular in the day and cheap and obscene actions.

Love in winters is all about a cold weather and quilts and garam chai ... pakoras and a good book in hand .... 

A strange feeling ....

A strange feeling has spread over my being ...  A feeling of every move being watched .. every step taken; counted ... Every breath analysed .... Every word spoken; repeated ... Every thing under scrutiny.

Liking the attention ... Watching my back is Big Brother anyways .... So no worries ... No hassles ... Am secure in the feeling that he does check every move I make ... and he ensures that I get the message loud and clear that he is there always ... as a Ghost watching my back and warning me always... in no uncertain tones of anything big coming my way .... Like a Tsunami warning system.

There is no substitute for being watched over .... Free surveillance system ... George Orwell's novel very well personified with Big Brother watching. The mystery unravels itself with each written word ... poor scared soul wondering what is it that she will spill the beans about? Literally every word under a scanner .... every statement torn apart to find the hidden meaning.... reading between the lines.

Know not thou that a woman's heart is an unfathomable Ocean ... many dark secrets lie within the deep recesses of the Ocean floor ... No one has seen the bottom yet .... pretty soon, each secret will be out ... every creature hiding brought forth ... and logged and registered .... a museum made of stories to tell...  true stories indeed.

A strange feeling .... but a good one at that .... not one to be wary of ... but one that makes you look forward to it and living life underwater without gasping for air.

Of Puchkaas and Golu molu women ...

Round, round ... crunchy potato filled savouries dripping wet with tart water ... Puchkaas from the Land of Great Freedom Fighters ... The trams and Buses made mostly of wood and the first Metro of the Nation ... The land of Ganga Sagar and Tollygunge ... The Turf View .... and The Grand Hotel of days of yore ... British era truly signified in the life ... Chowrangee Lane .... The Chinese stuff .... The descendants of Chinese immigrants ... The pure cotton Dhaka Sarees to the Durga Pujo Pandals ... The Calcutta Zoo as known before ... Memories rush in and flood the eyes with fond memories of the puppy love that was ... a Bengali boy looking at her ...  and she oblivious of his feelings playing merrily .... later in life realizing his puppy love for her when others told her ... purity personified.

A perfect semblance in life ... a perfect life in the fauji environment ... great moments to be cherished ... especially the Aelo jhellos and Rossogullas ... The Dance performance that catapulted her to greater heights ... The winning of contests ... a golden era in her life.

Of fat, dark women with beautiful eyes and melodious voices ... Black magic and tales of infidelity quite common .... no wonder .. Don't have to wonder why she is unfaithful to her family and husband ... living in a false and virtual World not her own ... Coz' she has it in her because of who she is ... frustrated dreams... Early marriage at 16 ... now daughter getting married ... sad state of affairs and others enjoying a good tweet at her expense ... sad truth but a grim reality of what technology can do to a bored housewife ... a bane and not a boon at all.

This reminds me of the leather tannery behind Turf View ... The roar of lonely lions in the Zoo ... The polluted water in the river behind, the blood and colour from tanneries along it's bank ... odour of dead cows and flesh ... first hand review of Environmental pollution ... The Victoria Memorial ... The Howrah Bridge ...  The Ballygunge Market ... The history behind the place ... a rich tale of courage and sacrifice.

The fun filled days of sports and curricular activities ... the golf course and the swimming pool .... gay abandon and happiness personified.

A smile fills my face ... reminded of the place ... Of Puchkaas  and Macher jhhol.