Friday, November 04, 2016

Confessions of a Female Quixote

You are in your twenties. You are a woman. You are single. You are crossroads and you are slightly confused with just one thing: love. What I mean is that you have a plain uneventful life with order and balance and all of a sudden you are unexpectedly drawn into a whirlpool of emotions, the moment you develop an interest in a guy.

Irrespective of whatever interesting adventures you are in the middle of or what work you are doing, this one person becomes the pivot of all your thoughts, so much that you are hardly able to find your balance in life and it becomes so obvious to the people around you that you are interested in someone. If it happens, not once but twice then you are done for and add to this, the fact that you are shy and find it difficult to communicate what you feel to the person concerned.

So the end result is a journal full of choked up tears of absence, kisses of fettered affection and unspoken love. Some of the agony is because of shyness but mostly because the person whom you attract is also of the same kind: shy, proud and difficult to understand. So, these definitions are a way of getting over what I know might be the best possible love in the world, of a magical chemically combustible kind, but mostly existing in the field of imagination and fantasy.

So, this female Quixote who reads too much, loves too much, thinks too much and writes too much. She has no windmills to fight for but her own personal fears and inadequacies. Rather than confiding in intimate friends or confessing your love to the person concerned, what you do is to scribble some loving thoughts in a journal on a daily basis, so much that over time you discover that the person you love has turned into a myth.

Then years later, you stand face to face with the person who provoked all this writing for years and all you want to do is laugh out loud because you feel like a teenager once again. Not just that you have made a myth out of the object of your obsession.

Wednesday, November 02, 2016

For us



You are my want, my need, my desire, my everything, my addiction that I never want to give up. May be the years, months and days might change this feeling for you.

But even after all these years, I want yours to be the shoulder where I return to with all the broken scattered pieces to be held close and put together; yours the eyes that hold the gaze and not hold anything back; yours the lips that greet me in surprise and yours the comfort that stays with me during the whole day. 

But right now, you don't seem to understand me and for now may be I don't want anything else either. 

Friday, October 28, 2016

Ahalya



A thriller by the Bengali director Sujoy Ghosh starring Soumitra Chatterjee, Radhika Apte and Tota Roy Chowdhury,  Ahalya is the story of a young policeman Indra Sen whose life and existence is changed, when on a missing person case, he meets a well-known artist Goutam Sadhu. 

The door is opened by a beautiful young girl whom he assumes is the daughter of the artist but turns out to be his wife. He sees a stone statue of the missing person Arjun on the table.Goutam Sadhu turns out to be a believer in magic and shows him a magic stone saying that he can turn into whomever he wishes to.

He is asked to meet Ahalya upstairs and she seduces him pretending that he is her husband. He no longer can make sense of the world he is in. This short film of around 14 minutes duration can stay with you for a day or two or even longer. 

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

Rain

Saturday, October 08, 2016

Readiness is all

Saturday, October 01, 2016

Hafiz

Quixote

Nostalgia


Thursday, September 29, 2016

Always been a romantic

Sunday, July 10, 2016

The solitary reaper

I am a solitary reaper, singing in the fields,
I keep pace with the sun from dawn till dusk;
I sing and speak to the hills and the dales,
And I hum all day to the beat of my sickle.


The valleys echo my solemn voice to me,
I forget the long hours as I keep humming;
My song changes its hue from hour to hour
And I love to sing of loves, lost or gained.

Sometimes, I sing of epic battles of yore
Bending over my sickle in the green fields;
Sometimes, a passing stranger stops to listen,
Lingering over the soft music that he hears.

I see him smiling at my lonely song and me,
As he moves away, I get back to work again.

Home

Home is where your heart goes back time and again, where you want to spend your quality time enjoying the activities that you like. Home i...