What does a glimpse of my room tell you about me? Here's a snap shot.
Well, so? These are mostly unread books, at least both the Ruskin Bond and the Jhumpa Lahiri one's went unfinished, I think I didn't quite finish the "Tea for Two..." one by Preeti Shenoy as well...if I remember correctly, I just rushed through the end after the elderly lady died and the plot became rather predictable. The biggest failure of them all is the GMAT book...I spent money on it on a whim, guessing that may be it'd lead me to fulfilling my life long dream - of getting a good management degree. But no, it's not that easy. You need money and you need to be free of responsibilities.
So mostly unfinished books and unfulfilled dreams, among which Casual Vacancy stands out, may be for the reason that it is a unique story that corroborates the poignancy of it all. And a semi finished tube of my face cream, stating that I want to take care of skin, but my depression rather gets in the way of my beauty routine (or my fitness routine for that matter - there are four boxes of health drinks I bought a year back - one of which you can find in the background, haven't even been able to finish one in all this time, and no, I am too lazy to walk, even though the park is just beside my house).
I am at my wits end about how to get out of this black hole of despair. I don't even get those very comforting dreams, with my best friend, anymore. My very practical system has probably finally identified them to be harmful to my well being. The silence quite consumes me. At times I feel that may be those very mushy movies from YRF are to be blamed for my over romanticism? May be there's really nothing called love and I believed in the wrong thing?
I came back to Kolkata to get a life? Life is some vestige of a job (it's still better than nothing mind you - and I am grateful for that), some worry about my parents' health, and relief when they get better (with the fact working all the time in the back of my mind that this won't last forever), may be some emotional drama with my family (realizing in the end that nobody frankly cares and I am not indispensable for anyone), and an almost non-existent social life (some friends yes, but I feel like a burden, some undesirable foreign object in their lives, some relatives yes too, but equally oblivious - everyone has their own trouble to handle, you see). Altogether, I am just living in a lonely island and going mad, and the future seems plainly depressing. I just know one thing for certain. I shall die a lonely death (not sure how painful it will be, but I am so sure that there'd be no one waiting to bid me good bye). How far away that is, and how much more of this torturous life I have left is what worries me. I have well analyzed my capabilities and ambitions. The thing I'd do best is keeping my husband happy and bringing up my children well. Yet, there's hardly any provision for that because I can't marry an unknown person, and given my past experiences, can neither reach out for love.
Why am I blabbering? Can I not give it a rest? The fact is that it is a very professional world and I am just an emotional fool.
Before I stop - the regular Pupu speaks section ;)
1. You must realize that the situation is indeed grim if your favorite hobby gives you a headache. I am nowadays plain scared of books. I still love them, because the happiness I have drawn from the book fair is definitely genuine, but the prospect of "only books and nothing else" is scary.
2. You realize that the situation is actually worse when you switch to a different hobby and get equally irritated or disinterested. Almost all the movies I have watched recently have given me a headache as well. Am I finally tired of the make believe world because I have lost faith in fairy tales, or worse still, have I lost faith in good things?
Quick review (you'd understand what I mean):
1. বাস্তুশাপ - Uff the stale kind of Bengali award-inclined filming. You look fresh as the morning dew, clean shaven and all, in a crisp white ironed shirt, when your wife is in the hospital and in coma for around two months...and your newly made girlfriend has to sport her best designer sarees every single day, under the double attack of a family crisis and an almost dying husband. Spare me the rest of the fairy tale, please...wish it was so easy to get a kiss in real life :)
2. বাকিটা ব্যক্তিগত - This was one movie, watching which I almost felt like breaking the screen of my Mac Book Pro. বাঙালির আঁতলামোর কোনো limit আছে না নেই?
3. হর্ হর্ ব্যোমকেশ - it is so boring to watch a movie made from your favorite story, if the screenplay is improper. The director never thought of the crowd who know the storyline...give me সোনার কেল্লা, I can read it any number of times, and watch the movie throughout my life, I won't get bored. I can go on reading বন্হিপতঙ্গ as well. But the movie? Thanks but no, thanks.
4. Airlift - the only movie I happened to like. The overwhelming joy and pride in seeing the Indian tricolor makes all the difference I guess.
5. Hate Story 3 - yes, I attempted to watch this, believe me or not, and I was prepared for an erotica. I didn't know there can be so complete a lack of sense in a movie. Let alone getting excited, I sat through the movie getting abysmally angry. It is the worst movie I have ever watched, and that includes all the trash :(
6. Wazir - Too much of a show off. Ok watch - it's a Vidhu Vinod Chopra script after all, but well, like he once called Tagore as Rabindranath-da, he has somehow mixed up contexts and priorities here as well, or so it seems.
7. Bahubali - Ahh, a warrior girl wears layers and layers of flowing skirt under her uniform...the prince who is the epitome of dharma gets time to dance with item girls (not one but three) while on a critical mission...without the multimedia magic, it is pretty much what all south movies are...and besides there's the million dollar question, why did Katappa kill Bahubali :P
The only positive thing is - I guess I still enjoy writing, it seems to relieve the pressure a bit...
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