Thursday, November 10, 2011

"India Payroll Team wishes you Subho Jonmodin"

I was busy...
busy writing codes and stuffing things into my head.
busy with the presentations at odd hours and making ppts till late nights.
busy gulping down food from 'jhoops'  with strangers whom I started calling Friends.
busy with the hectic schedule in office, with office..
busy missing pami, pak, nilu and some good ol' memories .
been busy pretending things n getting teary eyed every now and then.

But with that all that I did manage to
  • finish Anandamela 
  • be the group rep as well as the module lead (*grinslikeanidiot *)
  • watch before sunset
  • meet up old friends. (kfc, subs and gelato included)
  • learn a new language called java
  • and finally save my blog from dying!

So this is to the new job, to my new friends n to the k13 batch
and to pak, nilu, samba, pami, palu n moh for all the texts and the phone calls that keeps me going in the toughest of hours.

Friday, June 17, 2011


When I look back now I could feel the pain, an intense one. These four years were lot. And as I sat that day with friends, little high I wondered 'bout all that, that lay scattered in my head- Oly, Zhong hua and the craziest get togethers.
Each time I visited Zhong- hua or Oly and let that chilled stuff pass down my throat I could feel the pain and the feeling of togetherness all at same time. And pami's place where we sat most often with black rum, breezer n Maggi or the times at nandan, college street or coffee house over endless debates and uncontrollable laughters- the little things that would make my day. Growing up was this fun I never realized before and as I stared agape at the wild charm of my campus I realized that there are certain things in life that could never happen again- getting sloshed at binayek's garage, birthday '08 or intense puking after taking the shots for the first time.
And as I shuffled through those random clicks that day the ache grew stronger somehow. I knew I wont ever get to hear the Floyd in the same way, neither Calcutta blues will make us cry our hearts out. And I will keep missing those bawals, the birthday parties, the random treats, the never ending addas and those shoulders even more. The vodka shots would never taste the same again. The cozy taxi rides would never again be this beautiful.
And so as the car sped through I closed my eyes to feel the strong air and at times things never turn blue, they remain just as it is, only that we grow up, move on leaving behind promises, bonds n words and so it remains, smriti..........

Monday, February 28, 2011

And no, I'm not high..

Sometimes under the blazing blue sky, when everything seems pretty much good I wonder about my twenty-one years old relationship with this city, the city which I'm planning to leave soon.
So when I sit almost blankly my thoughts grow deeper and they take a shape of a big rain cloud and then when I'm just about to cry, I dont. And when I stroll along its road all alone, when I sip its coffee, when I kiss and pledge someone in those quaint, dimly lit alleys, when I cry stupidly over raging madness, when I keep hogging its street food, when I sit in the pubs and drink, when I laugh uncontrollably and when I read its books that are so full of literature and history my heart brims over love and affection for this city and it makes me light, as light as a feather n I go on thinking about the days, my growing up days, my wee little room with books and magazines scattered all over, mamar-bari where I spent most of my days squabbling with my maternal brother, my childhood friends with whom I lost all contacts now and the days of kurtas, jholas n bunking lectures in college. I somehow remember it all.
And so I fall in love with my city all over again as much I used to hate it once, the city which saw my emotions, dreams n regrets so close, the city which never failed to baffle me with her rich beauty, culture and history, the city which imbues me with satisfaction and happiness, the city where I met my first love, where I strolled along in the by-lanes holding his hand, where I brazenly kissed him my first kiss, where I let him go and leave me all alone among strangers. But then this city is so full of bonhomie that when you groan with pain, when you bitch in anger the rain comes and washes away the woes, giving you a strange, undying freshness.
And whenever I feel gung-ho about settling all alone in a place faraway from kolkata, of starting life fresh and independent my heart reminds me of those endless things that I will keep missing. And with a sullen despair I remember about all the roads I walked, all the memories I lived with, all the songs that I danced to and all the guys who splintered my heart again and again.
Kolkata would remain the city of loves and lovers, of couples holding hands and walking down the streets, of friends who would do anything and everything for you, of ilish, mishti doi, phuchkas n flurys, of strange readers and drunken poets, of goods and bads.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

A walk down the memory lane

I went to BSS yesterday after almost four years and little did I know that the place where I spent some fourteen years would look so strange. As I scurried through the first floor corridor I got a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. A string of memories flashed through. It was here I was thrown out of the classrooms most often and it was here that I took the trophy for scoring highest in maths with a burgeoning happiness one Sunday evening. That was way back in class three, yes I still remember. School always brings back these mixture of feelings, tears and smiles at the same time.
I always wanted to come school, even with fevers simply because I never wanted to miss out one single thing. It was only in primary classes that I realized BSS is my second home. And why not it was here where I got my first friends, it was here that I realized that lunch breaks are not only for having lunches, but for enjoying the rides down at the park and it was here where I got some of the happiest moments like winning the 'washing day' race in class two. I simply loved the primary section, that toy library, those western music classes, Anuradha mam, Sampa mam and everything that falls within. But going to seconday is yet another thing, that excitement, that anticipation, that cold feet, that feeling of growing up.
I loved sahana mam from the very first day in class five. She used to teach us English. It was through her I realized that English is my first love and not maths. Sahana mam once read out christmas carol to the whole class and only that she didnt tell us the climax. She asked us to go through the book. It was in class five that I started reading books, feluda or blyton whatever reached my hands first. It was in class five I met my lifetime friends, Mohana and Payel. It was in class five that I actualy understood the meaning of friendship for the first time. Class five meant yet another thing, yes sports day, cheering our own houses, praying for them. That first feeling of togetherness.
As I strolled along I realized how most of the things changed, even how the wooden desks and the old blackboards got replaced. The corridors now looked shinningly beautiful, adorned with bright flowers all over. And the whole building has been painted white with pale blue border which in our times was bright red. Each floor now has a name. I stopped in front of class eleven Science B for a minute. I saw a group of girls grappling with each other and then falling into sudden childish giggle. I stayed at that moment for quite a long time staring at those girls almost blankly realizing somewhere here I belonged years back, somewhere amidst pritha mam' chemistry classes, amidst chaki mam's scoldings and among those wonderful moments with the craziest bunch of buddies, moments that one could never let go.
I recalled the last day in school, cutting that chocolate cake, dancing with the whole class, clamouring for no reason at all. But like others I did'nt cry as I knew that a part of me will always be here, somewhere in the basketball court, somewhere in Dutta mam's history classes or somewhere in these corridors. 
Then suddenly the moment got lost as I saw a very lanky girl standing behind me with sparkling eyes. Stuffing something in my hands she ran away. With curious eyes I somehow managed to check that paper and there it was with her name written underneath.  I almost went numb, some moments that probably remain priceless.  

Saturday, January 1, 2011

The year

Last year 1st january was good enough- the long road trip to shantiniketan, the babli resort, the baul gaan, the food out there, the dance masti...yess almost everything.
The summer training started in a while and came with it the worst part. Sometimes it is hard to take the pain and its even harder to cope up with the memories that u create in the process, the memories that make you sit straight and think back all over again. 12th Jan was the last day we talked.

On the better side 2010 gave me my first experience of getting sloshed...sigh! And it introduced me to a whole new life of BBC, Oly, Zhhong- hua n all those kickass parties. The mandarmani trip, the pujas, the family get togethers that were best in their own ways...And oh ya the hair cut that made me cuter n happier.
The Darjeeling trip was the best trip ever for: being perfect 10, the eventful long 14 hours of train journey, the Kanchanjangha, the roof top breakfasts, those yummy momos, the car trip from sikkim to darjeeling, lunch at glenary's, intense shopping, the mal road, the news of direct PI- moments that would be treasured forever.
24th Dec was an absolutely new feeling: SPE, HHI, Underground all in a night n dancing like crazy....
Lastly the interview on 30th. It couldnt have been better, just couldnt...And the text from K on 31st, "congrats baby" made my day...yes I got into TCS, the best way to end the year perhaps...
To 2010,
You took away something I thought I loved but you made me tougher anyway, you made me happier when I thought everything was going wrong , you made me maturer from one gawky girl I once was....And so heres raising a toast to you for bringing the bests, for all the wonderful moments, for letting me understand friendship a bit too well.
Btw happy new year guys!