Of yellow river n Flamingos.... !

You sit back on that big, brown couch
You talk 'bout love n life
Of wet woods n sunrise.
You fake, sulk and smile high.
You dream of yellow river n flamingos
And hold me back like never before
You do this and do that
And all that to let me go!

Reunion.. :)

I shall be meeting some of my old tuition friends this weekend almost after about five long years, the moment I have been longing for years.
And it brings back so many memories. I remember the old damp room where we used to sit, the place which witnessed so many of my firsts- first crush, first fight, first true friends, first book of Harry Potter, first pair of sneaker and all the little things I used to crave back then. I used to go there every Saturday afternoons and Tuesday evenings and I hardly used to study there, ever :P. But things I gathered from Sir are way too important than those stupid physics or chemistry lessons. His beige colored shirt, his sparkling eyes, his lovable words and some odd bunch of twisted incidents are all that I remember now.
True that I have been growing too fast, learning to wear that mask, to put up a fake smile, to lie. And just then I remember those stupid fights, the fresh smell of the saraswati pujas, those evenings with rain and jhalmuri, the dairy milks after bijoya, those bunking tuitions- having fun. I remember it all, perhaps you just cant forget your firsts, they are real memorable, real treasure.
These 5 years have been a lot. I became way too matured, bit too settled and calmed down a lot. No long do I crave for those candies and ice creams at odd hours. I have now other things to take care of, huh? But when I sit back and think about the times bygone, tears come so unknowingly and my fingers curl up with a feeling so rare, so fresh that I allmost feel weightless.
And while I am writing this out in the office with a coffee in my hand and the rain pouring outside I guess I really have grown up a hell lot. Growing up is part of life I guess. And while I see the children clamouring outside, jumping in rains, shouting like anything, I know I am missing those days of innocence when love was so simple, when friendship was all about sharing lunch and secrets and when life was all about scoring good grades.
The air inside the office smells so metallic, so stale that it is making me sick, but I guess I have to get used to this, to grow up even more, to put up even more masks, to hide back tears, to show that pink smile.

P.S.- Thanks to faisaal for the treats (chinese, coffee, bhuttas n ice creams), gtalk for I can talk to all my friends n to all them in the office who did'nt block fb and eventually makin my life a little better here.

P.P.S- Thanks to nilu for every little thing in this world.

Life n Beyond....

Moments....
The Feeling. Surely there it was cluttered beneath that fake smile, a flash and it goes again settling in the pallu of the red dhakai sari she bought the other day, a neat red bindi on her forehead and ofcourse a tinge of sindur at the parting of her coal black hair that smelled mostly of jasmine. Dark, kohled eyes, narrow yet deep enough to let him rock and fell him into pieces. And it flashes yet again.
A flicker of memory makes her light if not a bit high for now she learns to bunk her classes as efficiently as once she used to do her homeworks, for now while resting at JU grounds she smokes quite often leaning against his shoulders, lost to the sheer joy of what she is not strangely aware of and for now she drinks beer and vodka as much as her male friends. After all she is learning to let go off things that mattered once so intensely. True that makes her bad, but she could do nothing, probably she could never return where she existed once. After all there's a life beyond being good (good daughter for instance) for all she wanted is 'more' only to get lost in the wild maze of nothingness- moments when she feels like throwing up for things come so close and then they just flunk out, run away as they were never hers, never ever in her whole damn stupid life, moments when she crumbles only to wake up to the dream of that red dhakai sari, moments when she realizes the truth, what she is – 'a widow(?)'
Tears that fall off unconsciously, for the truth that freaking hurts her. Truth which matters mostly to her conscience but a little more to all those away. How I wish there were no word called shame.
Years after there were times when she conflicted with her own self about her reckless nature, her running away towards the wilderness, her rebellious mind when she realizes there is nothing called forever, nothing could be perfect and probably none who's pure enough.
And there remains only stains. Stains of dark red, pitch black and inkish blue and this time bleaching makes no sense, no sense at all.