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.

8 comments:

payel said...

Well, a piece of writing so rich in emotions as this cannot be the child of the writer to whom this city has been a mere place to live. Her relationship with this city is deeply bonded with her relationship with her first and true love. As long as she will remember those moments of tenderness and passion,the burning dispair of unfulfilled love she will write in the name of this city...cursing it yet loving it the most. Kolkata will always remain the city of joy and pain for her...forever.

Wild Strawberry! said...

how true payel...u seem to understand my emotions so well.

PsycheBubbles said...

The outlook suggested it to be a poem, but the tranformation that led me to it as a post was great. Liked the elaborately decorated emotions! :))))

Wild Strawberry said...

@PsycheBubbles: hey thanks

PRAVEEN said...

Maybe All Share The Same eomtions when they leave at some point of time! This City has given so much that You dont want to leave it for even a Second!
Its So Vibrant and You feel Homely that Wen U go sum place else You start feeling Lonely!
The Writin has indeed taken Me To such a Journey!

Niladri Shekhar said...

Don't we all love to love and hate this city,OUR city..... It's like a family member. We can be upset with it, we can cry over it, we can be angry on it..... But there is no denying the fact that we love it. We may choose to stay away from it, but we can never keep it away from us..... Peace to that.....

Indrasish said...

Its nice that u also feel for CALCUTTA the same way as i do...

"SHE" is truly beautiful in her very own way, the roads get choked every now n then by huge political rallies, rain has always had a romance with the streets of KOLKATA, the traffic is a huge chaos n so on.... "TOBU TUMI SUNDORI KOTO KOLKATA"........ \m/

little boxes said...

"e shohor jane amar prothom shob kichu..."