Laments of a failed poet  

Posted by: Shreyasi Ghosh

Haha!! This is the joke of the millennium. I’ve been asked by a friend to write poetry!!! I patiently tried to explain to her that I’m NOT at all a poetic soul. I enjoy reading them and often occasionally comment on them (provided that doesn’t sound too smart-ass)..but I can’t compose them. Ask some of my closest friends to testify that.

Well, there was a time though, when I had scribbled pages and pages of poem, mostly in Bengali and a few in English. That was probably when I was in class four or five. I was severely bitten by the poetry bug. You can call it a phase which will never come back. After that, nothing sensible came out of my mind in poetic verses.I'm an incurable romantic( though others will tell you the opposite..not that I blame them), but I can't write poetry.

Sometime back, I did try my hand at writing one. And I came out with a four page long ramblings. The inspiration was incessant rain,coupled by a momentary lapse of the brain's functionality(..I got stuck with a co-ordinate geometry problem and was really frustrated). I made two of my closest friends read it. They stared at me, appalled. I still have no idea why. Maybe it was so uncharacteristic of me to write a love-poem!! Or maybe it was bad…real freaking bad. And they're sought-after poets, in their own rights.

I will post it soon. It’s in a diary which a friend has taken with him to his hostel once I get it back, I will make you all read it and wonder just how much trash can someone write and even have the audacity to even call it poetry!!

But then, I wrote…and therein lies my satisfaction, however unjustified. :-))

Post exam bouts of insanity  

Posted by: Shreyasi Ghosh in

A friend asked me a question yesterday-"toder parar ATM ta kotokkhon khola thake re??".
I looked at him,agape for a while. That it wasn't a trick question was evident from the nonchalant tone and the absorbed look on his face.Besides,he isn't the type to pull anybody's leg. He's very much capable of asking you questions that will leave you stumped.

But this???

The system of evaluating students' academic progress called examinations must be abolished as soon as possible. It has taken a severe toll on the mental stabilty of my otherwise smart friend.

Kudos to the person who realized that the word "EXAMS" is truly a perfect acronym for Extreme Xenophobic Attack on Meek Students.

My happy-high ramblings  

Posted by: Shreyasi Ghosh in

I had this. If ma gets to know that my third coffee-cup of the day has soiled the sink in her absence, pray for my soul.

But I'm happy-high.Today is brilliant. I love today.

p.s:-the heart-shaped froth is my heart in the coffee-cup.I've given all my heart to it.


Hunger maketh me cranky  

Posted by: Shreyasi Ghosh in ,

I'm dying for a bite of the crispy spicy piping hot pepper chicken at South City Food Court. And the chicken drumsticks stuffed with cheese at Adda Bites. And the Arsalan Spl. Cheese kebab. And freshly baked chocolate chip cookies and brownies at Flury's. And the lamb dish(called something like Rann-e-abadh) at Ivory. And fresh lime soda(that's the only thing I can afford right now). And buttered corn at Big Bazaar. And strawberry milkshake and iced mocha at Barista......the list is endless and my tummy's complaining like hell.

Good food and good company always up my spirit. Add some good music to it, and I'm almost on cloud infinido. I should embark upon a journey across the city with a loaded purse, to hunt for the best restaurants,thelawallas making fuchkas and chaats,pizza corners,maach-bhaat-mangsher jhol shops. etc. and of course check out all the delectable platter they have got to offer.People who appreciate good food and never complain about ever-swelling waistlines are welcome to join me.

I want to tour the whole world and tuck in the local cuisines everywhere(yeah I'm even game for ox tail soups,octopus and the likes).

Meanwhile I should stop rambling and seriously think about making myself something to eat. Ma not being at home, I can't fall back on the rock solid comfort of wailing "Ma khide peyeche". I have to do it on my ownWhat to do? I have decided to refrain from consuming any excess oil,other than the quantity I have to eat at lunch and dinner. So no omelettes,french fries etc.So? fruits are an option but the refrigerator has only bananas to offer and seriously speaking who wants to have them? I hate bananas,save for banana flavored icecreams;">

I don't want to have biscuits.Or chanachur(how do you say chanachur in English??) I'm tired of nibbling at them all the time.It's the same old Marie biscuit or Hide-n-Seek and Treat.I want some apple cookie.I can't make sandwiches. There's nothing to make a sandwich with.Nor there is any Maggi or Top Ramen or pasta.Ma has gone shopping and only when she returns with her buys will there be something of that sort to eat.

There's some leftover from yesterday's lunch. Should I have them?

After 5 minutes of musings, I decide not to have tengra maachher jhol and aloo posto now. Not that I don't like them. I'm a real sucker when it comes to aloo posto.But there's no taker dal to go with it...I'm complaining."Beggars can't be choosers" as they say. But I refuse to be called or think of myself as one in my own house,a 3 minutes walkaway from the local market and with money to spend.I'm just too lazy to go no. I'm exercising my brain cells to come up with an innovative time-saving,energy-saving,labour-saving idea to satiate my taste buds.

As I sit here pondering what to eat, my eyes have already fallen upon the jowaner shishi and I made a dash for it. I chewed on quite a handful of jowan.I love jowan and my addiction to it kind of covers up for my insanity to have it when I'm ravenous and can almost eat a goat up.

Hunger is the best sauce in the world-Cervantes had said in Don Quixote. Damn! Why does everything have to be metaphorical?Why can't it be a sauce?..What I mean to say is whenever we're hungry,we can just press our noses or clap our hands or do any similar thing and spaghetti or alfredo or cheese sauces will be served.From where and exactly how,we can discuss it later for sure.Not now please.

I wonder just how much of rubbish one can produce when one is hungry,cranky or purely insane? though arguably all greatest works of art,literature,science,technology and the likes were created in fits of mad frenzy!

Oi.I can have coffee. Now that's an idea.See you.

Of drunken slur and mad confessions  

Posted by: Shreyasi Ghosh in

And it took her eight months, 3 pegs of whiskey and a mindfucked Elvis to realize that she's in love??????

Some people should stay inebriated for hours.

One among dreams galore  

Posted by: Shreyasi Ghosh in

I should think of making a movie called "The Sinister Semester". It's definitely going to rake in all the moolah and find itself giving tough competetions to other cellulloid biggies in the bid to rule the box office. I will have viewers aplenty,all of whom will be able to identify themselves with the protagonist,getting screwed,damned,rotten and burnt in hell.Well,there're exceptions I know. And I sincerely hope they'd steer clear from watching my film. Both for their as well as my sanity's sake.

For the rest of you fellow sufferers, who've patiently put up with the exam blues,and all you people about to be plagued by the impending apocalypse,take a break and watch my movie for some consolation.
Bleh! I've gone mad again!

A Thank-you note on your birthday  

Posted by: Shreyasi Ghosh in , ,

To my Kabulliwalah.
To Gora,Amol,Amit and the likes who touched my heart and caught at my imagination like no one else.
To Mrinal,Kumudini,,Kalyani,Labanya....who walked out of bondage and in turn, set me free.
To Sudha,Mini,Mrinmayee,Ratan.Omnipresent.Age-defying innocence.Who've never deserted me.
To Manimalika and the stiffled petrified pain.
To Charulata..and the sporadic outbursts of colour.
To the yellow pages of Gitabitan.
To Shanchayita and Golpoguchho.
To the "Postmaster" of "Daakghar"
Shishu Bholanath braving his way through the fields,undettered by the attack of robbers.
"Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure. This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again, and fillest it ever with fresh life.
This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales, and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.
At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.
Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine. Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill. "
Thank you for being.