সোশ্যাল-লাইফ

social-media1

অন্য ছেলেমেয়েদের মতন করলি আমায়, নতুন নতুন নখরা
সবার মতন আমিও শেষে, হলাম সোশ্যাল-মিডিয়া বকরা।
ফোনটা খুলে check করি আমি status বারংবার-
নতুন কোনো ‘like’ বা ‘comment’ পেলাম কি আবার?
‘Groupfie’ তুলি, ‘Selfie’ তুলি, প্রচুর ছবির ভান্ডার-
Online প্রমাণ থাকলে পরেই বন্ধুত্ব হলো রাখবার।
‘Retweet’ আর ‘Reblog’ করে দিনটা আমার যায় যে চলে,
পাশেই বসে বন্ধু আমার, তবে chat-এই গপ্পো হবে।
সামনে দেখলে মুখ বিকৃতি, কষ্ট করে হাসি-
অন্যসময় হৃদয়-ওলা emoticon ভালোবাসি।
শব্দ ভান্ডার কম নয় মোটে, বেশ vocal আমি-
তবে মুখের থেকে আঙ্গুল আমার বেশী রাশভারী।
এমনি সময় ভাবি না যত, এখানে মত জানাই তত-
মানবসেবায় হয়েছি রত, ‘share’ আমার বেড়েছে যত;
সামনাসামনি হলেও চেনা, এখানে ভুলোনা করতে দেখা!
Friend/Follower না হলে তুমি, সম্পর্ক পায় না ভূমি,
আমার fun যদি দেখতে না পাও, কারুর যদি হিংসেই না হয়-
অনুভূতি তবে সব জলাঞ্জলি, আনন্দ আমার হয় নয়ছয়।
তাই Global-warming এর চিন্তা নেই, Oxygen-ও জরুরি নয়-
যেন চিরকাল শুধু ফাউয়ের Internet আর Wi-Fi পাই!


N.B. This post was a long time coming! (And I have to, have to try an English version) ~G.

Posted in Calcutta and Bengali, Creations, Laughs, Me, Observer, Sarcasm, Verses | Tagged , , , , , | 1 Comment

স্বল্পাহারী

দাঁড়িপাল্লায় ওজন করেও, পায়না খুঁজে কূল
যেই নম্বর বলি না কেন, সবই বলে ভুল |
বলছে ব্যাটা, হচ্ছি মোটা, দৌড়ে আয় বাইরে-
আমিও জেদী, বলছি মেকি, তোর বাজে কথায় কাজ নাইরে!

আমি রোগা, এক্কেবারে প্রায় শুঁয়াপোকা,
দিবিনা নজর, খাওয়ার-পাতে;
একটাই তো আমার ভালোবাসা-
খেতে বসেও আবার কি ওজন দেখা!

শাক-সবজি ভালোই লাগে-
যদি হয় সঙ্গে মাখা পোস্ত;
অনেক ফলও খাই আমি-
শেষ পাতে, যদি আগে থাকে মাছ-মাংস |

দৌড়তে আমার এমনিতে নেই কোনো প্রব্লেম,
কিন্তু বাড়ি ফিরেই, পেটটি আমার বড় বেশী কাঁদেন,
তাই আমি একটা লাঞ্চ, একটা ডিনারেই সারি-
ডবল মিল করলে বরং হতে পারি বেশী ভারী |

মোটা বললে কিছুই নয়, করব শুধু চিন্তা,
নতুন একটা মাথা ব্যাথা, কিন্তু যাবে বৃথা |
তাই তোর কথায় আর আমি পাতছি না কান-
যখন মনীষীরাই বলে গেছেন, ‘আপ রুচি খান’
তবে ‘পর রুচি পরনা’- যখন সেটাও আছে বলা,
এবার থেকে কেবল আমি কাপড় কিনব ঢিলা||


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N.B. Really! (Apparently) I am putting on weight (for the first time in my life)!😀 ~G.

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Conference song

It was an organized meeting of minds, a reflection of our finds-
Of something that is intrinsic and inherent in design.
Literally, it is to resist or gain freedom and/or exemption,
(No, no, not from your little bad deeds’ prosecution)
From funny little bugs and the crazy genes, all invisible things
That are capable of much more chaos than one thinks!
That was what we were meeting for, to discuss and teach,
As great minds got together, with contributions from each.
The special ones were the invited, traveling from afar
Bringing new ideas and raising the knowledge bar.
One reminded me of cowboys, and their wide hats;
The other of a language used by computer brats.
Or simply, of per square meter with one whole newton,
The last of a nature-worshipper, but not unholy or pagan.
They all talked and talked, and illuminated us again
On what we do, and what the world stands to gain.
That be it a fly or a tiny little mouse, or us, human-
We’ve a long way to go to know why are we immune!
It’s not as intuitive as you would think-
Even though we were born, and we evolved, with it.
It is so exciting, that I managed to write a whole ditty!
It’s what I do, it’s what’s the mystery, called- Innate Immunity!


N.B. I work with a pretty impressive bunch of people (doing cutting-edge science) and we had a day-conference at school today with pretty cool speakers and awesome research. And I was so enthused (about the speakers, about the subject, about my own work) that I wrote a full poem on it. I don’t care if it’s good or bad, it is fun writing…. while I wait for my incubation (in an experiment) to be over. G.

Posted in Creations, Me, Non-Fiction, Observer, Passions, Verses | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Mistakes

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What do you say, when you talk about your mistakes?
That you tried? That you tried it all, and all that it takes?
Did you make up a story where you are the one in distress?
Or do you own up, say ‘I was wrong‘ and simply confess?
Do you say, that I regret, regret that I misunderstood.
Or do you let you a cry, screaming ‘How could you?!
Would you lean back, nursing a glass or two-
And contemplate the ways you were played through
Figuring you could learn from it, the world’s ways,
The next time, some one again tries to play you.
People call you emotional, missing the big picture,
Sentimental, for all the trivial joys you try to capture;
A fool: who thought with the heart, felt with the head
And cried invisible tears, when people moved away.
There’s only a single path to love, or so you thought
For that’s the only way that you had ever sought
But there were more roads, not simple, that lead-
To the complicated and unfathomable, that others need.
But the irony of it all, was the fallacy in you all along.
To think that there was some one, any one, who would see,
Your worth, in which you yourself never truly did believe-
How could someone else love you, when you yourself would not?

She sat by herself, in beauty, and ugliness in her soul
Twisted, turned and cast aside, she basked all alone.
Used, hated or merely forgotten, she’d live the pain.
She had survived before, and she’d do it once again.


P.S. Some things are best left unsaid, but some things clog you up from inside that need to be purged in some form or other. And somehow there’s beauty in all of them. I wish I could write when I am happy. ~G.

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Catharsis XVIII: Rants, philosophically

Sometimes you come across someone, start a casual conversation, pass some idle time. Sometimes that meeting, that conversation is the end of it. Sometimes it just spirals out and forth into something new as certain pieces seem to fall into place and then, that conversation is the just the beginning. It happens in the most innocuous places, in unchartered moments, randomly, like travelers meeting at a similar checkpoint, where by simple happenstance both are present at the same place at the same time.

It happens in a waiting room at the dentist’s, at the airport or on a bus-ride. May be you happen to sit next to each other in class of a hundred, or end up being study partners or roommates by the luck of the draw. Or it could be the stranger assigned the cubicle next to yours, or the one in the cafeteria at the lunch table with the only empty spot.

Some conversations begin as circumstantial, some are born out of common courtesy while others simply develop as habit. And conversations- the small talks, the outpourings of the seemingly mundane, even mindless, some forced, some natural- curiously enough, evolve. Even the smallest interaction leaves an impact, most may be forgotten but some are never too far from the mind. It makes us who we are, as humans, as individuals, each and every instance varying in their contributions and effects, but at the end, remain indelible.

But intriguing are the ones that are not fleeting, over time and with their impact. Sometimes a person simply grows on you. The most annoying neighbor is simply a tad bit eccentric, you intone fondly. That co-worker with OCD is not maddening anymore, and you make that extra effort to give a semblance of order to the things you are putting back on her desk. That messy roommate is just one of those creative persons who cannot be bothered with the mundane, and you reshuffle your errands so that he has it a little easier. The instances could be endless but the outcome remains. You make a relationship, a friendship and a connection, one that survives, one that has crossed over from the initially assigned relation you began with. It’s a gift.

And then there are years that pass between you. The conversations are not mundane anymore. Mindless takes on a new meaning, when you don’t have to don on the garb that you need when you confront the rest of the world. The conversations turn deeper. You share. Your innermost fears, your smallest joys, your struggles, your peeves- you share all that is you, secure in your heart, free from the dread of condemnation or judgement. You share knowing you are safe.

And eons pass, and you think it is indestructible, it is eternal. You forget the reason why you were forced under the same roof, in the same air space to begin with. It almost is like destiny. So who cared what the reasons for coming across each other were?

But then one day, that initial, trivial reason is taken away from you. You are not co-workers any more, you are not classmates any more. All you have to go on with is what you cultivated over the years with each other. And in that one moment, when that compulsion is taken away from you, when there’s no more practical reason left to hold on to- some times, sometimes you realize helplessly, as the chasm looms and widens right before your eyes, and the frost begins to form and harden into ice, that you were only ever what you began as, forced together by an unpredictable turn of fate. It never evolved- that part was all your imagination, or maybe just fanciful thinking. It was simply propriety and kindness. Never friendship. And you realize you were only ever roommates trying to coexist. Never were you friends. Never that.


 

N.B. On hindsight, it doesn’t seem a big step away from what I had wrote almost a year back, “Take no prisoners”. That this still occurred as a discrete revelation, means I give undeserving humans much more credit than they are worth. ~G.

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শিকারী

অল্পে অল্পে সময় কাটায়, নাছোড়বান্দা মন,
পড়ে থাকে কোন কিনারায়, সম্মুখে পতন।
তাই জাল নিয়ে হাতে, বেরিয়েছি শিকারে,
কষেছি ফাঁদ, বহু যত্ন সহকারে-
আজকে ঠিক আটকাবে ব্যাটা, বসবে উঠে চমকে
সময়ের সাথে সাথে, পৃথিবীর ঘূর্ণিও অমনি যাবে থমকে!
যে যতই বলুক, মূর্খ, বৃথাই এই চেষ্টা-
তাও লড়ে যাব, পালাবে কোথায় কেষ্টা!
বলে কিনা, পারব না আমি, বাঁধতে তাকে
ঠিক গলে যাবে নাকি, অজান্তে, আঙ্গুলের ফাঁকে
কিন্তু আমিও জেদী; নৃশংস এবং অহং ভারী-
একবার ফেরত এস দেখি, একবার নাও ঝুঁকি,
ফাঁদও আমার গুছিয়ে আঁটা, এক বার যদি ধরি-
দেখব কি করে পাও তুমি ছাড়া, আমায় দিয়ে ফাঁকি!


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Frequent struggles of a headstrong heart

There’s a lump in my throat… a real, tangible thing with proper dimensions in the physical world, blocking my airway, suffocating me. Once it used to be just the leaden weight in the pit of my stomach. Now it has spread its tentacles, like cancer, metastasized into everywhere there is sense of feeling, nerve endings and receptors for pain, ache and hurt, telling me that the demons are real, there’s no chasing them away.

There’s two of me, residing in a single body, sharing a brain but making the head work in opposite ways. One is pragmatic as always, you’d be hard-pressed to find someone more practical and down-to-earth. The other was the dreamer, the wistful over-thinker, and the wishful eternal optimist. Of course, the latter never heeded the warnings, the bright red, frantically blinking signals of danger from the other half of self. Of course, that was the part that ached, cried, that struggled against the shackles of the body, the limitations of society and life, that suffered, and railed against all the injustices of world, and destiny. It could feel and feel and feel, and never understand, or fathom cruelty, agony and the reasons those existed! Of course, it was also the part who alone experienced and understood sublime, unadulterated and boundless happiness. It was who felt one with the world, and mankind… the one who threw out her arms, and twirled in the rain, face lifted towards the skies, reveling in the beauty of life and nature, as her skirts billowed and blew around her, seemingly making her fly. That was the part of me that knew how to love unconditionally, live the moment and damn the tears which were fated. It lived. It died too. But it resurrected itself every time that it perished of negligence, of separation, of lost hopes and broken dreams, and the times it clashed headlong with reality.

That lump in my throat threatened to give way as liquid tears from burning eyes, but the proud, pragmatic part of me bit on the tongue almost drawing blood, hell would freeze over, before I’d show weakness. It almost had the resigned attitude of having to clean up after the act, it knew was inevitably going to follow. It knew, even before the story rolled out, that heart was going to break, and it waited barely till the moment after to start picking up the shards. And wait, it did, patiently, watching and waiting in its hibernation, the celebration of joy that wouldn’t last, and would always end too soon.

The tears came with the profession of a love that would never see the light of the day. Huddled away in the corner of an empty room, with the faint glow of the night-lamp casting long shadows, it was almost a portrayal of the heart within. With its erratic beating, that’s how it felt against the chest, full of shadows, waiting to snuff out even the merest of light that managed to survive.

You are stronger than this… You are not going to wither away, disappear… This is nothing, you can withstand worse… The litanies repeated themselves, from some unknown part of me that still held on the zeal to live, not just survive, which said that I was alive and I was enough. But a small bit, would reply in the faintest of tones, tired, I am tired. Sometimes the pull of the darkness, the lure of oblivion was so overpowering… Thinking of all the things lost irrevocably, of all the things that I couldn’t change, of all the things that never would be, it just wanted to fade into the deepening mist.

Then with a burst of energy from an unknown, untapped source within you, you would think of the all things that are, that were, even momentarily… the miracles, the blessings, the small joys, and you’d pull yourself up and trudge forward pushing against the flow. The regrets pile up, but the happiness breathes too, in old, sweet memories and half-formed plans, in wayward, fanciful thoughts and bittersweet realizations, in loving words and aimless conversations, in unspoken, generous actions and unrehearsed reactions, in the unexpected smiles and spontaneous laughter… And it was there. The pride, the elation, the love, the longing and belonging… if nowhere else, but in those eyes, as deep as the dark oceans, vibrant and alive, speaking in its silent language, imploring me to understand, to know- irrevocable worked both ways.


N.B. Understanding the mechanics of the heart is my favorite past-time especially when I am trying to write a blog post. Love, G.😉

P.S. I am amazed at the title I came up with. It’s pretty cool, ain’t it? G.😀

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কবিতা লেখা

তোমার মন হয়ত আর ভুলবে না,
তোমার মুখেও হাসি বোধহয় ফুটবে না,
কে জানে, হয়ত এটাই আমার সঠিক পরিণতি
তাই কবিতা লেখার চেষ্টাও আর করব না।

এমনিতেও কবিতা লিখি না এমন কিছু,
যে মারকাটারি প্রেমের দায়ে, কেউ নেবে পিছু|
অল্পসল্প ছন্দ মেলাই এদিক ওদিক-
তাও আবার অনেক সময়, ভাবনা বেঠিক!

তাই বৃথাই চেষ্টা, বৃথা শব্দের সাজ,
যখন উদ্দেশ্যহীন, যখন দেয় না কোনো কাজ|
শেষ রাত্রে ভোলে না নিজের মনও কবিতায়,
শুধু গর্জে উঠি, উষ্ণ কন্ঠে, নিজের অক্ষমতায়।

তাও লুকিয়ে আশা রাখি, যে তুমি ঠিক পড়বে আমার লেখা-
আর কাল সকালে, রাগ ভুলিয়ে হাসবে চেয়ে, যখন হবে দেখা।।


N.B. Apparently the best lines come to me when I am tired, hungry, have lots of pending work to do before I can turn in for the night. It might not be an awesome piece of poetry but damn if I didn’t enjoy concocting it (while driving, picking up a pizza, warming food, and other unmentionables- and all the while praying alongside that I won’t forget the lines before I finally get to a pen/paper/laptop!)… Love, G.

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প্রথম প্রেম

এই তো গত সন্ধ্যায় পেলাম তোমাকে,
এসেছিলে আমাদের বাড়ি, হাসি ঠাট্টার আমেজে-
কিন্তু সময় যেন বয়ে গেল ঝড়ের গতিতে,
ঘন্টাগুলো ঘন্টায় নয়, কাটে চোখের নিমেষে!
সুখের কিছু মুহূর্ত জড়ো, সব এক খানে,
বালিশ আঁকড়ে, মৃদু হেসে, ফিরি সেই ক্ষণে,
মনে মনে দেখি সেই উজ্জ্বল দু’টি চোখ
আহ্লাদে আটখানা, ঠোঁটে হাসির চমক।
বেয়াদব মেয়ে আমি, হলাম লাজুক অজান্তে
তোমার চাহনি যখন এসে থামে আমার পানে|
পৃথিবী যেন সেখানেই থমকে গেল-চারদিক নিশ্চুপ
‘এই পলটা তোকে দিলাম’, ঘড়ির কাঁটা করে বিদ্রূপ।
কবে যে সেই সন্ধ্যে ফেরত আসবে আমার কাছে,
পর্দার আড়াল থেকে আবার লুকিয়ে দেখব তোমাকে।।


N.B. Simplicity is the key? I’ll be keeping at it… Love, G.

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Not meant to be

Some things are not meant to be…

You ache, you pain, you beg and pray
You wish that you’ll be guided
Down that righteous way-
Into the light, and a brighter day.

You rise in happiness, tears of joy
Of fanatical dreams, wishes coming true
A blossoming flower, the brightest hue
Right before the storm, born to destroy.

You think you’ll survive, you will persevere
With the stolen times, moments you hold dear
But the tide is indestructible, unbending and mad-
It’ll wash away even the meagre, you thought you had.

Some things are not meant to be, never will be
Some things are fleeting, however much strong,
Herald birth of hope, a life, unfettered, free-
But they all do die, even before they are born.


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