Unspoken...

"চারুলতা"-র সঙ্গে নিজের খুব মিল পাই আজকাল। সে যেমন সারা দুপুর দূরবীন চোখে বাইরের পৃথিবীটা দেখে বেড়াতো, আমিও তেমনি এ জানলা সে জানলা করে বেড়াই, কখনো আমার পোষ্যদের মারপিট করতে দেখলে জানলা খুলে বকি, "এই কালো, এই নিখু, এত  গুন্ডামি করিস না, খিদে পেয়েছে? আয় খেতে আয়..."

কখনো বা চড়াই পাখি দেখি, কখনো শালিখ পাখি (অত এক শালিখ দুই শালিখ আমি মানিনা, তাই বেশ নির্দ্বিধায় দেখি...)

আমার ঘরে দুটো টিকটিকি আছে, একে অপরকে তাড়া করে বেড়ায়, তাদের ঘুরে বেড়াতে দেখি,গরুগুলো মাঠে চড়তে আসে, তাদের দেখি...

Along with the occasional storybook that keeps me company...now it is a John Grisham...The Broker...it talks about Italy, and the University of Bologna, one of our project partners...and also on how a person takes on a new identity...

আর তোর্ কথা ভাবি - কি করছিস, কি ভাবছিস, কেমন আছিস...ব্যাস সময় কেটে যায়।

They have coped up with their sister's death...আমি প্রথমে খুব রাগ করেছিলাম ওদের ওপর -  তোরা ভুষন্ডি কালো ভাইগুলো মিলে বোনটাকে রাখতে পারলি না রে? কিন্তু ওদের কি দোষ?

They keep together these days - together is an important word...isn't it :)

যাইহোক, শুভ নববর্ষ ১৪২২ :) Here's hoping for togetherness :) :)

The creative urge...

অনেক কিছুই করব ভাবি, হয়না করা,
দু' দিন ছুটি, সময় অনেক, লিখছি ছড়া ...
নববর্ষের প্রাক্কালে যে মগজ জুড়ে,
পদ্য লেখার মালমসলা আসছে উড়ে ,
ইচ্ছেগুলো নাছোড় বড়, তাইতো ভাবি,
আজকে নাহয় করব প্রমাণ, আমি মস্ত কবি  :P :P

Oh the photos, they always manage to make me happy...and crazy, and bouncy, and I behave in a nonsensical way...

Please, I am this sober girl ok? Very serious and stern, people find a lot of dark shades in my character...

But then the colors, the composition, the perspective, they come and bring out the child in me...and I end up writing such stupid verse...what to do tell me? God hasn't given me talent like him, this is all I can do...

When you die, where does your creativity go?

The ego battle, the bitterness, and the realization...

The last week has been nothing short of terrible. There has been so much of pressure. Pressure of winning the battle. Of restoring my ego. Of taking revenge of selfish elements that won't even let me mourn in peace.

I have never been this shrewd, ever before in my life. For once I wanted to hurt back - because people shouldn't ever feel they have the right to hurt me and get away with it...only because I can't always manage to hide the fact that I am already broken. So finally I have won the ego battle. Blasted the guy who had this buttering tendency I was talking about in an earlier entry. Sycophant...even learned the proper English word. He had the guts to call me a peer...a guy who is 11 years younger than me and has none of my professional capabilities. This is where life has brought me...my wish to live life my way...so how could I not fight tooth and nail in order to disprove this terrible realization?

I don't feel like celebrating my victory though...you celebrate a victory only when you have some respect for the opponent. Remember Hector and Achilles? You don't really jump with joy when you've killed a mosquito or a cockroach, do you? Yes, believe it or not, I am capable of this much hatred.

I guess so much hatred has arisen from experiencing the pain my friend feels. From understanding that pain, from not being able to do anything to save him from feeling that pain. That I have felt that pain too doesn't help him in any way. He is too proud a soul to accept my help. I feel so bitter that the world has brought this unto him. As much as I have my helplessness, I have this smoldering ache on not being able to heal his wounds. That he'd get ruined and people hell bent on not acknowledging their worthlessness will keep winning games they don't even deserve to play...is not acceptable to me. I fight against this disparity...

When I can't handle it anymore, I look at the pictures taken by him, I watch his favorite songs in youtube...but I don't allow myself this liberty, luxury always...it doesn't matter...my love doesn't really matter...I just pray to God all the time that my ego doesn't come between us...that I don't become like them who have hurt him...

এক এক সময় মা পাখি হতে ভালো লাগে - অসহায় লাগে, মনে হয় একটু আদর আমিও পাই, কিন্তু স্বার্থপর হতে ইচ্ছে হয় না, মনে হয় শুধু ভালবাসি :) ...

You know why? Because, way I like your favorite songs, you like mine too...ok...just 1/3 of them :) :)

One more gone...

"Jaundice" is no more. She died on a Good Friday, I guess. This morning I went downstairs and heard that she didn't come over for breakfast. Went looking for her, and came across her, as if sleeping peacefully, very much like her mother. Called her a number of times, tried to notice if she is breathing...and then gave up all hope.

She was growing up into a lovely young lady with natural kohl smudged eyes. At times I pictured her in a scarf and sunglasses, she'd look a perfect fashionista. They were growing up well, I was half expecting, all of them would live a full 10 years of healthy life.

I did promise I won't care as much for her puppies once Kutu died, but I couldn't keep my promise. My parents got involved, in fact the entire neighborhood was keen on saving the pups, we all loved them. Jaundice was my father's favorite. He gave her the name Jaundice, as she was the only tawny colored puppy...rest of them were black like their mother, and also because she didn't eat much in the initial days. Later, however, she developed a good appetite. She would nibble on biscuits from dad's hand, and then rub her face on his feet. 

We are all devastated. Her three brothers remain...their pampered sister was the first to go...

Rest in peace with your mother, sweetheart...