Bicycle Stories. ~incomplete

And there goes the road to my school

With memories planted on each side

Blooming with delight

And swaying with pride.

Barefooted I walk over the lone road

And try to match the size of my foot

With the ones- imprinted long back.

Impressions. Some of them refuse to fade.

There was a dream of dreams

A one of a kind.

Fonder. Special. Closest.

But some dreams turn to memories

Roll in the dust of time

Those dreamlores. They are always there.

Reality. That’s something they are not meant to be.

Dated: 14th Oct'10  

P.S: Tried hard since long to end this scribbling with such a stanza which would sing songs of optimism. But couldn't. May be one fine day it would be rewritten. Yes, it would be completed some time soon. :)

Tujhse hi ruthana re, tujhe hi manaana, tera mera naata koi duja na jaana

কেটেছে একেলা বিরহের বেলা আকাশকুসুমচয়নে।
সব পথ এসে মিলে গেল শেষে তোমার দুখানি নয়নে॥

Well, it’s been ages since I last indulged myself in the pleasures of buying books. Many an unfinished novel lies across my unkempt and almost broken table. Some with a dog ear and some with bookmarks slashed in, are patiently waiting for their turn to be labelled as ‘finished reading’. Every night when I perch my head out of this heavy blanket, I can see the glimpse of green that is there on the cover of The Hungry Tide. As far as I remember I had been a lover of reading books. I still am but I regret not reading since long.

Due to some office work, I had to visit Select Citywalk in the evening. Once the work was finished I had this stupid urge to eat something. Undecided about what to eat I was strolling around with many a thoughts playing games inside my head. Ignoring my hunger cramps I entered Pantaloons knowing that I won’t buy anything even when I would definitely like many a things there.

It was a phone call that just ruined every bit of my quite a happy mood. I was visibly irritated and fuming with anger. People are never quite satisfied with you ever. No matter how much efforts you put in, what counts is what you didn't do. Even when it was not your duty to do it. And these days I just find it hard to rely on people. I have recoiled myself so much that if I don’t uncoil myself soon enough, I would break. What’s hurting me most is the feeling that I am becoming insensitive towards things. Now I don’t cry. Much. And that hurts the most. Why? Why? Why, the hell am not crying like before. See I want to. But I don’t. My one of the greatest fears is to grow insensitive towards things, matters, feelings, emotions and people. I want my heart to feel. It should be alive and throbbing. Always. I want my heart to beat louder. The silence these days kind of kills me. What I seriously want is ‘chaos’ at its full volume.

It was my good old Crosswords that preserved my sanity today. Books. After a long time, I had my ‘me time’ with the books today. I already have so many unfinished novels and it actually was not a smart idea to spend on books. Still I went ahead. With the hope that may be this step would alter my otherwise insipid life. I not only have to ‘move on’ but to 'move ahead’ also. Whatever has been left unfinished can be finished later on. If not, then let them be. But those unfinished novels should never clip my wings and stop me from flying high to some other worlds. Worlds that could only be explored by diving deep in the pages of the books I bought. Who knows I might just start writing again. No, not like before but much better than ever. 

Enough of stupid philosophy and reasoning. To put it straight and simple may be this is just a failed attempt to distract myself from the thoughts of.... Do pray that I succeed. I am tired of my moist eyes. You stupid water droplets, damn, either you shed yourself or just go away and dry. Don’t just bug me by welling up time and again.

In case you care, I bought, 'My Name is Red', 'The Museum of Innocence' and 'One Amazing Thing' today. Confused which one to start first, I gave in myself to write this stupid post. Yes, this is yet another failed attempt to write again. I have so many profound, deep and beautiful thoughts in my head that if I ever succeed in writing them, I am sure they will be a masterpiece each. I hate this feeling when my thoughts like a lump in throat refuse to move from it's place. It almost chokes me and leaves me panting for breath. My thoughts refuse to turn into written words. They keep on churning inside my head, heart and soul and derive a goddamn pleasure in torturing me.

But my chase for my lost Muse is still on. And the race is about to reach it's finishing line. I know, the winner will be Me. I have a feeling that the day is not far when my masterpieces will be there in front of me. Inscribed in my own handwriting. I will read them. Again and again. Write them and then will rewrite them. No, I don't have any desires of being famous, or a writer. I don't even expect you or for that matter anyone to read them. I can see many of you smirk at the word MASTERPIECES. But it doesn't matter anymore. I have left blogging for others a long time back. It's not blogging anymore. It's more of talking to self. It's to let my heart do some talking.

But you know, I know you would always find your way back to my blog, time and again. Waiting desperately to read an update. Sifting endlessly through my archive. Reading each line twice. Stopping at the word 'You'and pondering "is this 'you' me?" Tilting your head and smiling a little. Pressing you lips and crying a little. With a cup of Darjeeling cha or a cigarette? Taking a trip to down memory lane that we spent together. Dreaming of a future that we just couldn't spend in each other's custody...holding hands and then in arms. The kiss. The Bliss. Even the fights and arguments.

Know that I would always skip a beat each day and dedicate it to you. For your well-being,happiness and success. Know that even when the circuits of my brain are all out of place but my heart still beats. For I may be a crazy, silly and in short a stupid girl but my soul is pure and well ahead of time. And my heart is still intact.

दिल्ली

इस शहर में वो बात कहा

जो मेरे अपने शहर की थी.

जहा हर धूप की छाओं में

मैने सपने सेंकी थी.

यहा दीवारो से साये भी अब

सिल सी गयी है.

उम्मिदो से हिम्मत की परत

न जाने कब...छिल सी गयी है.

शाखो पर जो ये बूंदे पड़ी है कुछ-

वो आईना दिखती है.

गहराई में जो झाँको कभी

वो अंतरमन हिलती है.

क्या इन गलियो को तुमने- 

छु कर देखा है कभी?

धूल की चादर को यूही बदन पे-

तुमने ओढ़ा है कभी?

रूह बसती है इनमे. 

~*~

ॐ गं गणपतये नमः

Thank you Lord. Because of you, today I am at peace with myself. Only few more miles...haina? :)

Blue.

For some ‘blue’ is just a color and for some it is symbolic of the sorrows inside their heart.

           

To me blue represents the entirety of my heart and soul. For my heart and soul together are nothing less than this cosmos. Over this color blue, my dreams are the studded stars and they shine in their own light.

        

When life is basking in the glory of sunshine, the clear blue sky is my canvas to paint my dreams. For what do you think these cottony clouds are! Nothing but the dreams and milestones I have painted.

And when it rains over my blue landscape, the beauty is matchless. It tells stories to me. Stories from stones and stories from tomorrows. Don’t you think that this heavy downpour will wash me away. For it’s here to cleanse my soul. Pristine! That’s what I change into after a heavy downpour of struggle and failure.

        

Whenever I am there at the top of a mist engulfed mountain with occasional outburst of drizzle, I see you coming to me; holding in your li'l hands a seven colored umbrella. With a smile and a twinkle in your eyes you embrace me by my knees. You know! That keeps me going. Not the sunshiny umbrella but the shine in your eyes.

      

When the scorching summer along with its heat-waves wilts me down, I know my life is safe, when holding your rainbow colored umbrella I see you coming. You know! That keeps me going. Not the umbrella but your eyes.

        

I can hold my soul on to my two palms and can tribute it to the blue in your eyes. For in the blue of your eyes lie my cosmos and my entire existence.

My blue-eyed baby girl! You are the spark that gives life to my life.

In conversation with my God.

I know you are listening. And my prayers would be answered soon. Aren't they under process? Yes they are.

So, take your own sweet time and know that I am so not gonna break in to pieces and fall apart.

A Letter to God.

Dear God,


As I grow in life may I learn the wisdom to see people as they are, not as they appear.


I wish I was not so ignorant of the true shades of human nature. I wish I was not a fool to trust people just like that. Someone close once told me a sensitive girl can seldom succeed. And it seems to be so so so true.


Yours Truly
MystiquePree

♥ Life is not tied with a bow, but it's still a gift.♥

No I am not copy-pasting it. Re-reading it countless times , I am typing all the 50 points so that they seep in me. Thank you Regina Brett for your 50 Life Lessons.

♥ Life isn't fair but it's still good.

♥ When in doubt, just take the next small step.

♥ Life is too short to waste time in hating anyone.

♥ Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.

♥ Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.

♥ Pay off your credit cards every month.

♥ You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.

♥ Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.

♥ It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.

♥ If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.

♥ Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.

♥ When it comes to Chocolate, resistance is futile.

♥ It's OK to let your children see you cry.

♥ Don't compare your life to others'. You have no idea what their journey is all about.

♥ Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.

♥ Life is too short for long pity parties. Get busy living, or get busy dying.

♥ You can get through anything if you stay put in today.

♥ A writer writes. If you want to be a writer, write.

♥ It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.

♥ When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take NO for an answer.

♥ Burn the candle, use nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.

♥ Overprepare, then go with the flow.

♥ Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.

♥ Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.

♥ The most important sex organ is the brain.

♥ No one is in charge of your happiness except you.

♥ Frame every so-called disaster with these words: "In five years, will these matter?"

♥ Always choose LIFE.

♥ Forgive everyone everything.

♥ What other people think of you is none of your business.

♥ Time heals almost everything. Give Time time.

♥ However good or bad a situation is, it will change.

♥ Believe in miracles.

♥ God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.

♥ Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.

♥ Growing old beats the alternative- dying young.

♥ Your children get only one childhood. Make it memorable.

♥ Read the Psalms. They cover every human emotions.

♥ Get outside everyday. Miracles are waiting everywhere.

♥ If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we would grab our back.

♥ Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.

♥ Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.

♥ All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.

♥ Envy is a waste of time. You already have what you need.

♥ The best is yet to come.

♥ No matter how you feel. Get up, dress up and show up.

♥ Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.

♥ If you don't ask, you don't get.

♥ Yield.

♥ Life is not tied with a bow, but it's still a gift.

. . .

Iss mod se jate hai 

Kuch sust kadam raste 

Kuch tez kadam raahein…

This beautiful song kind of haunts me. The feeling glides all over me, softly piercing my heart. Still the song continues in a loop. And with every beat my heart churns some more. All I can feel is a pain. A pain whose story has got no beginning or any end. And I cry a tearless bucket.

I am standing at a threshold and few steps ahead awaits a phase of life from where in I have to grow up big time sharing responsibilities hand in hand or sometime all alone.

May be it was time to get mature long time back and I could not extract this out of life at the right time. Do you ever feel like stranded on a cross road? Because of the choices I have made in life or the way I have executed them, I feel estranged.

For some weird reasons I feel as if with every step I take, I end up in a crossroad. Every next step is a battle for I don’t know to where I belong. The biggest challenge that life has thrown at me that continues to remain unresolved is what I want to be and do in life. I am moving regardless of any aim. I feel Aimless-Directionless-Useless. No matter what I do, I can hear a voice backfiring at me. I know I am not happy by the way I am leading my life. The worst feeling is when you know you are wasting your life and in my case I am doing it every day. You need to have an aim in life and I confess I don’t have any. No disappointment can be bigger than this. There is always a burning chaos in me. My life is perplexed and undisciplined. I am not in peace with myself.

Sometimes I really wonder; would my absence ever affect the life of the people I know. How long will they miss me? Is time really the greatest healer? Does life really moves on? Honestly I don’t want any one of my loved ones to move past over me. It’s kind of a healing touch you know to believe that I hold a precious place in their life and no one can take over my place. But how long? I know one day people would learn to live without me. My absence won’t matter except for a time or two. But I am selfish and I want you to miss me. I am a kind of person who tortures herself and everyone around with many things hypothetical. I can really go cruel with this habit of mine. And I know I ain’t going anywhere. Does that make you hate me?

Have I been a little serious in my life in the past, I might not have been feeling this much miserable now. I feel so miserable to realize that how unkindly I have trampled the high hopes and all the dreams that my parents had/have on me. What worst is that I know I was meant for something greater, grander and something meaningful. I know I am being harsh on me but then sooner or later I have to accept this truth.

Patthar ki haveli ko 

sheeshe ke gharoundo mein 

Tinko ke nasheman tak 

Iss mod se jate hain...

While contemplating the past, present and future of my life, I just realized how in different ways we all have gone. Though we started our journey from many of the same points. Some are successful. Some are not. But what’s the definition of success? There was a time in life when we chose different roads with the promise of keeping in touch forever. I don’t miss my school or college friends. I am not even in touch with them. But then why I am thinking of them now? Surely I don’t want my life to be like theirs, no matter how happy they are in there own way. But then so very naturally I compare myself which leads me to the path of self loathing. Sometime coz I stand no where and sometimes coz I have fallen so low that I am comparing my good self.

It’s not everyday that I acknowledge these few painful truths about myself. I don’t have the courage always to face them. Knowingly I ignore them, avoid them. But still they eat me up. Somewhere inside they are turning me hollow.

I find myself in the verge of frustration, even mild depression often. The frequency of their occurrence has reduced for sure but still…I dint have anyone before I had you with whom I can share. Not because people would not understand me. I feel incapable of expressing. It’s only with you I can bare myself. But you know baby, I can’t express myself properly. Even the matters that raise huge turmoil in me, falls flat when I try to let them out. They appear so run of the mill. May be they actually are in reality. Will there ever come a time when I would express myself freely?

I am seeking peace and I know it will come the day I will start doing something that gives meaning to my life. A purpose to my otherwise estranged life. I need to tread on the right path. The way towards happiness where a sense of achievement awaits me. If not anyone else, I want me to be proud of myself. Can you help me to unleash the path which would take me to where I belong to? Where I could live without the cover of pretence… unadulterated… raw and naked to what I am?

I have found my anchor in you. I know, one of the paths lead to you. Life is not that bad. Coz the path that leads to you is the same one where you walk with me hand in hand. May we never have to tread off.

Ye Soch Ke Baithhi Hu Ik Raah To Woh Hogi


Tum Tak Jo Pahonchti Hai Is Mod Se Jaati Hai

P.S: I know i will realize it a li'l latter what all i have written here. may i never have to regret a single thing expressed here, so what it was done in a hit of a moment. baby if you happen to read it now, don't call me as i don't want to break down in to tear.

Wishes are not horses.

Some nights all I have got is your outline. I trace your eyes, your cheeks but my fingers refuse to move past your lips. Have I ever told you how much my fingers love to glide through your hair? How I feel like pushing those layers over your forehead aside? And then to kiss on your empty forehead?

The touch of those silken textures feels like a much-loved dream.

If only photographs could reciprocate.

Memoirs of Another Kind.

At the temple, there is a poem called "Loss" carved into the stone. It has three words, but the poet has scratched them out. You cannot read Loss, only feel it.

~*~

The heart dies, a slow death,

shedding each hope like leaves...

... until one day there are none.

No hopes. Nothing remains.

She paints her face to hide her face.

Her eyes like deep water.

It is not for Geisha to want.

It is not for Geisha to feel.

Geisha is an artist

of the floating world.

She dances. She sings. She entertains you,whatever you want.

The rest is shadows. The rest is secret.

~*~

You cannot say to the sun “more sun,”

or to the rain “less rain.”

To a man Geisha can only be half a wife.

We are the wives of nightfall.

And yet to learn of kindness…

… after so much unkindness. To understand that

a little girl with more courage than she knew,

would find that her prayers were answered.

Can that not be called happiness?

After all, these are not the memoirs

of an empress, nor of a queen…

… these are memoirs of another kind.

~Memoirs of a Geisha~

A Day in the Life of India.

Even the doctors come next to God but one thing that’s equivalent to almighty is Food. And it is worshiped since time immemorial. Like many others I was taught never to touch Food, Money and Books/pens/pencils ever with feet because they deserve the highest levels of respect. Money and knowledge in turn helps to satiate one’s need for food. Animals other than humans have different strategies for arranging food. Bottomline: Food is God.

I still get my share of scolding whenever I tend to waste even a single grain of food. I am trained in such a way that not a single grain of rice falls off my plate. Incase there is any, I collect and keep them in the bird-feed. While in restaurants I never over-order but if there ever arises a situation that I am unable to finish it all, I never shy away from asking the staffs to pack the left-over food. Most of the times it is a chapatti or two and I believe rather than throwing them up why not to give it to someone needy.

Just few days back my father was so overwhelmed by a man’s action on street that he never fails to tell it to us whenever possible. I can clearly see the element of pride in his eyes. The pride of witnessing something/someone to which/whom he has relentlessly given his biggest chunk of respect. It might be nothing great, not even notice-worthy to many but to him it was which he passed on to me too.

One ordinary morning it was. The day was taking its pace slowly. In the hustle-n-bustle of everyday work how many times do we notice the beauty around? I do but the frequency graph has surely taken a sinking path and it’s high time I revive myself up. Coming back to the topic, on that morning while my father was all set to leave for work, he saw that Man. So much mediocre he was in looks and appearance that he had blended himself perfectly with the ordinariness of the stuffs around. Men walk fast taking long steps. Every once in a while we women have to run to catch hold of them. And once we do we never fail to ask them with an irritated tone to walk slowly. He was walking with no different gait. My dad was all set to ride away when he saw him at halt. He saw him picking up a piece of roti lying in the middle of the road. Laden with dust and dirt. Stepped over by countless humans and animals. He touched the chapatti to his forehead with utmost respect and kissed it with indelible love. He moved back towards the entrance of my house where lies a slate of kota stone over which there is a clay saucer. He kept the chapatti on it and after paying one last homage went ahead towards his journey. Li’l knowing how he has changed that ordinary day of my dad’s to something extra-ordinarily momentous.

Facing Bullets.

~Julie is back from the MCD hospital after her sterilization is being done. All safe and in good health.~

At Home:

Fresh Mustard Flowers.

• Nothing can beat the bliss of being at home on a sick-leave this Friday considering the fact that Sat/ Sun are fixed OFFs :P

• Today's Dinner delight: Sorsho phool banta aar gorom bhaat, prepared by Moi. You don't have to agree but I know I am awesome

• Either Hollywood movies in a loop.

• Or sleeping like a polar bear. :P

At Office:

Yes! This window belongs to my cabin

• Yesterday was a busy day. After going through the hard phase of 'Lay off’ last month, finally I am back to do some fresh recruitments. It feels so great to see people leave the interview venue with a smile on their face and an offer letter in their hands, from this side of the table.

• This particular girl named Pooja, I tell you was a total gone case. Once she left the room my boss smiled at me and gave me the biggest compliment ever. “She was your exact opposite. You are healthy and she is thin in such an unhealthy manner. She is so sad with her life while you are always so happy-happy. You know what you are like this Sunshine.” Ah! Sir! You don’t know, through what phase I have gone. Tough times don’t last but tough people do.

• Two cute guys named A and S have developed a liking for their company's only HR.  :P

At Blog:

• It feels nice to realize that I didn’t let my White Window die. Contemplating my past record at blogging, posting my 101st is a huge achievement.

• I am no more friends with my girlies. It’s been over a year now. And no I don't miss them. Not anymore.

• 97 Followers! Wowww! Thank you dear Readers.  But why do people follow my blog? I wonder what's there to follow! 

• 'You comment I follow' ß this rule doesn’t exist in my blog dictionary anymore.

• I read but I comment as per my convenience/mood/interest/. Largely it depends upon the emotions evoked. Blogging is not an obligation and so is commenting.

• This is no more a creative blog.

• Now my blog is all about Me. Contrary to before, I don’t wait for comments anymore.

• But honestly, my heart smiles whenever there is a new comment.  Thank you all.

• There are few bloggers whom I despise. They belong to some self-made elite groups and won’t visit the lesser bloggers. Most irritating thing about them à  Stop visiting them and they are bound to come back to your blog. Only to remind you that you are being missed in their so called elite blogs. Yeah these so called elite bloggers are just so comment hungry. They might stalk you too, shamelessly asking you to comment and follow.

• But you know I have my favourites. Mithe and Jo. Swati and Akanksha. 

• Recently I have started loving Raka too. Out of no particular reasons at all.

• A lovely girl named Neeha has awarded my blog and  it is my turn now to pass this on to some recently discovered great bloggers. 

Chandana and Rachit, you guys deserve this the most. Please collect your award and do the following:

1. Thank and link back to the person who awarded you this award. *Thanks Neeha*
2. Share 7 things about yourself. *LoL*
3. Award recently discovered great bloggers.*Chandana and Rachit*
4. Contact these bloggers and tell them about the award.*Sure*

At Post Script: 

• There is something miserably wrong with the blog post title. Good thing is I have figured that out. It should have been 'My Life in Bullet Points.' * wink*wink*

• This blog post was not written to oblige by the rules of the award. But it turned out to be so. And I realized I can never constrain myself within some given numbers.

• After a long time I made a post that's so full of photographs. Definitely a Feel Good Factor it is. :)

• Photographs used are the original work of 'Yours Truly'.

• Why do all my blog posts turn out to be so long that too when I really do not have anything to write at the beginning?

  Take Care

~MystiquePree

Let me ♥pin♥ us together.

When I was a child, I had this strange admiration towards this simple device called stapler. And the admiration still continues. Like before, it still leaves me stupefied.

And so as the Wiki goes, “A stapler is a mechanical device that joins sheets of paper or similar material by driving a thin metal staple through the sheets and folding the ends.”

A simple machine. That’s what a stapler is.

Simple. Isn’t the word simply beautiful? The most loved and requisite things in life are ones that are most simple and mundane. With such perfection and ease they have blended themselves into us that their existences do not stand out. And that is where the beauty lies. The beauty to behold.

I think you need that something special in you to so conveniently encompass everything around you, with nothing but your aura. And not all are blessed enough to be clichés. When people around say, they are after ‘unique’, I proudly declare that I love clichés.

Feelings in every form are a cliché. Be it associated with love or hatred. What makes a woman so unique? Her ability to womb in clichés in all their shades and density. Her effortless supremacy to encompass the life around her.

A woman is a stapler. And her innumerable clichéd ways are those small metal staples who bind a family by folding the arms. Someone didn’t say for nothing, a haven is there in the enclosure of your woman’s arm and heaven is there at the feet of your mother. Strengthening the bond she nurtures life without even drawing any bound. She protects you and lets you evolve. All simultaneously. Her way is the unconditional way.

I love you. Don’t I? So what our ways seem oft repeated. I will bite off your lips the next time you say, “Baby its so cliché.”, to make you understand the harder way that love itself is a cliché with all its high and low echelon of intricacies. I know you would love it.

You don’t have to show your love by writing my name on the moon by sticking stars. Just hug me. Don’t say a word. Remember! I can decode your heartbeats!

♥ Let the stapler be me and my love its pin. ♥

P.S: I know, with a pat on my shoulder you would say, it's better late than never Pree. And so with this post I stapled my 100^th  post today. Yeah! It took me 3+ years to reach this milestone. Now common! stop giving me that astonished gaze. Don't you think I deserve a big round of applause instead? :D

On a Slate. ~ My story on Nirasha

Hope. That’s what we girls are. We are the li’l angels of hope and harbingers of happiness and prosperity. And that’s why many of us are named Asha. I know families who celebrate the homecoming of their ‘bundle of joy’ and I have come across such families too who sink themselves in the river of despair.

Dear Readers,

Would you mind if I ask you:

1.  What’s your definition of girl/daughter?
2.  Someday, don’t you want to have your own daughter?
3.  Her Name and its meaning.

What kind of parents they must be who named their daughter Nirasha? The father denied her as his child and the mother cursed her womb! Believe me her name was Nirasha. I met her while I was in Dubai. She was the caretaker of my friend’s aunt’s ailing daughter. Contrary to her name she was a livewire. She said it wasn’t easy for her to come in terms with life. Sometimes your tears refuse to roll down because you can’t show your pain to the blazing gaze of a hard-hearted society.

In every corner of the world girls are abused, disrespected, raped and killed. Is she really so insignificant?

Accept it or not but girls are the most beautiful creation of God. His miracle of superior eminence. If nothing more, She is what you called Life. Is there anything more dearer than one's life?

♥ Words on a slate are never permanent. Lets rub off the traces of such a society where women are still ill-treated. ♥

***Photograph used is the original work of the blog author.

On a Slate.

'Nirasha'

Ok! So for those who don’t know the meaning of the word imprinted above, it means:

• Hopelessness
• Gloom
• Disappointment
• Despair
• Frustration
• Let-down
• Despondency
• Dismay
• Discouragement
• Melancholy

To all those lovely people reading this blog,

1. Can you share one such instance when you were hit by it the most?
2. What did you do to overcome it?
3. Do you know any fighter who was at the extremes of hopelessness and yet has emerged out as a winner?
4. To what extent of ‘Nirasha’ a person can go? In what scenario it is justified?
5. How do you tackle people who spread this malady around?

Tell me a story you have faced/witnessed/heard on Nirasha.

♥ Words on a slate are never permanent. Lets rub off the traces of hopelessness from our lives. ♥

~MystiquePree

♥ Paper boats float in my heart. ♥

A Foodie Introspection~

♥ I have an answer now… Yes I love Leonardo Di Caprio. :D

♥ The power of my taste buds have enhanced dramatically. Wow! They now like eggs.

♥ Butter. Butter. Butter.

♥ I love the flavors of coriander leaves and lemon.

♥ My love for ketchup is back : D

♥ Maggie. I don’t think I can live without you. Sorry I tried to.

♥ I still end up ordering butter chicken.

♥ Pizza! Trust me you taste good but sorry I won’t spend on you.

♥ Momo. My appetite for you hasn’t decreased a bit. I can still eat 2 plates of you, all alone. :)

♥ I can’t be a vegetarian. I don’t even try to. Once in a while the thought of turning a vegan dawns upon me but there is this one greater force that successfully pulls me away.

♥ Don’t ask me. I won’t tell you who or what that greater force is. :p

♥ Chinese Cuisine. I get this strange craving for you often. Very often

♥ Roasted duck. You are sill on the top of my wishlist. Please get out of it soon.

♥ Daab-chingri. You rule!!

♥ Dear Taste of Kolkata, thanks for those unforgettably mouth-watering crispy lamb.

♥ I love buffets in grand restaurants. I feel like eating everything included in it. Unfortunately I feel satiated way too soon. Sigh!

♥ KFC’s chicken bucket is nothing great.

♥ I will never eat shwarma by directly going to Al-bake. My sister told they prepare and serve; just few steps away from a ghastly gutter. Bayzid! please come back and bring home some shawarmas .

♥ Honestly! What’s the point in going out to have veg???

♥ Nothing can beat the fun of gorging on radha-ballabhi, luchi torkari and chai from those road side stall and sweet shops in C.R Park, market no:2. Of course with your special someone. :)

♥ Seriously! I mean seriously! How can you go to all those expensive restaurants just to have salads? I mean how come you ever go out to have salads?

♥ Sorry, I don't like you, milk. But I drool over you once you become an inseparable part of kuli-pithe.

♥ Tankush, do you still serve the best chicken parathas?

♥ Lady!! You prepare awesome egg parathas. And the best part is, it only takes 2 min to reach you. Please never move away to some other place. We seriously adore your 10 Rupees egg paratha with vinegar dipped mirch and sliced gajar.

♥ Esplanade, where are you situated in C.R Park? I searched and searched and searched you and yet not have located you. I guess the address given in that stupid Times Food Guide was wrong. There was this one old house with one very old lady who was so unwilling of to let go off me. These days nobody has got the time for their grandparents. The whole day they wait by the gate with the hope of the some familiar face passing by.

♥ I hate those small-colorful tutti-fruiti cherries.

♥ Litchi, trust me you are so cute. You are my favorite. Don’t you worry orange and strawberries, you guys are sweethearts too. And please don’t forget Australian grapes, atta and babukhosha.

♥ Popcorn and chuski, you guys are delectable.

♥Sweet corns!! Oh! God! Your aroma is heaven.

♥ Pistachios are to die for.

♥ I don't like tomatoes like before. My family laughs it off though. :(

♥ Where can I get those cheese, the ones on which Tom's Jerry madly slobbers?

♥ Bournville!!!! I Love You.

♥ This insanity drives me crazy! Someday I will eat you too, dear Leonardo :P ♥

P.S: This list will undergo continues upgradation process with addition and deletion to it time and again.

Prayer~

♥ God! give me the willpower to rise above the ordinary. ♥

In Romance with your Love

What I fear the most is this dead air in between us. I tremor; even at the slightest possibility of it taking shape. My inability to fill this gap even with my heaves and sighs leaves me with an unquenchable blend of confusion and discomfort. What follows is an unceremonious celebration of twinge in the heart. At that very moment when my heart trembles like it’s going to fall apart into uncountable bits and pieces, I want to run away. I know I am an escapist. But where shall I escape to other than the refuge in your arms?

Baby! Please hold me tight while running your fingers through the tangled web of my hair and say “You just don’t have to speak a word. I understand you even when you are at your weirdest best.”