A scene from my memory, part 3.2…….. *stories from shillong *

These days i’ve nothing much to do….i just sit at the corner of my bed, n’ look at the rain drops on my window pane. Yes, it rains a lot in here these days….N’ it rains so much that my window panes get frosted by the time it’s night. I like to draw smileys on the frosted window panes. It makes me happy….

By the time, i wake up in the morning, all my drawn smileys vanish out. How i wish, the things i like too much to stay for ever….but they always vanish out.

Through my window, the nearby field is entirely visible. My friends are all playing in there. But my mother doesn’t allow me to get out there in the rain…..she worries too much about my maths grade. I really don’t know, why she worries so much abt me….I’m in god damn class 7, i won’t fall sick so easily.

You say, that u get to know when it rains……..Will you tell me when it rains…. I’ll take an umbrella when i go out, then. I might not use it….but it will make me remember you, when we are gone out of sight for ever.

Beyond the fields, there’s the crossroad.You can’t really select any one of the roads as you feel like. I don’t know, why every time i stand in there, i feel all of those four roads have their different way to show the world.

Medemsen Wallang is the person who sits at our gate to keep a watch around. I could never pronounce his name properly :|. Once i found him drinking the rum, while he was on his duty. He asked me not to say it to anyone becoz though….daddy doesn’t know about it…but god does….n’ he’s okay with it.

Peter says that the rum keeps the body warm in the cold. He once got some rum into school. Though it didn’t get waste that time, but he never brought it again….because meghna is too scared when he brings alcohol to the school. She doesn’t want Peter to get caught. Peter never said that he loved her….but i don’t know why he never stole alcohol from his dad’s bottol n’ brought it to school.

By ten’O Clock Medemsen get’s so high that he can’t really keep his eyes open. I like to sit outside the door on the steps n’ look though the open gate with a sleeping watchman n’ a glowing lantern hung on the gate. I don’t really mind if a drop or two of the rain falls on me. My closed door behind me cuts off all the stuffs that’s taking place behind it. It cuts me from the world to a point where i can just sit n’ stare into the dark without really thinking about the reality. The broken flower vase, Mrs. Gomez’s maths homework, the news on the TV, the leaking bathroom tap, the accidental crayon marks on the walls, the lost pieces of my action figure…..evrything gets locked up behind me.Yes, it rains too much these days. But i’m not allowed to get wet.

There’s this tomcat that comes to our place every day from the woods. I give him food. But he never brings her kids along with her. My mother doesn’t really allow me to follow her into the woods.She fears that i’ll get lost.

Will you come with me to the woods. I don’t really know, if i can take you out of it when it gets dark.  But i’ll give you the glow of the glow-worms, the smell of the rain wet ground, that shade of the tree n’ perhaps three little kittens you always dreamed of.

Would you mind getting lost in there….with me…

Our house is located, slightly on the upper part of the hills.  If i get up before the sunrise, i can see the sun light spreading out on the entire city.This river near my school has fish which eats biscuits n’ pieces of bread. Meghna brings awesome dimsum for the lunch breaks. Her mom really cooks those well. The days when Peter bunks out school, because of the fever he caught by getting wet in the last days rains, make Meghna  quite sad. No one, here actually flaunts their converses…it’s like too common in here. Mrs. Gomez is a nice person, but i hate when she gives too much of homework. I don’t really see TV these days. My drawing copy is all filled up with pictures of the hills…..it’s quite easy to draw the hills actually. Somedays when i am very sad….the moon talks me down to sleep. N’ i’ve found out…whenever i dream i can loose control over the reality.

The munky!.

*The rainbow has 7 colours….I’ve never seen a rainbow…..but still i know*

not under the effect of an overdosed joint!.

When you get out into the streets after midnight, my city looks so different. There’s this silence that floods each corner of the city…..even those barking dogs sound so magnified at 3.15 am.
Yes, i’ve seen so much all around, that i feel i’m getting really old…….but i don’t judge what is good or what is bad or what will be the ugly, i just wanted to write any thing that comes into my mind now!!

For a statement’s sake, i’ll write nothing again for you, i’ll write nothing to please you….n’ i’m not writing anything under the effect of an overdosed joint.

 

it’s not that at 3.15 am, you’ll get out of the house n’ you’ll find a taxi easily to take you to the airport. But what you’ll find easily is the light of the glow-worms, the orgasm of the cool breeze, the bite of the mosquito, the abrupt n’ occasional cry of the baby from a nearby slum, the ping of the sms alert send from your sim card operator, empty candyman wrappers, some old memories n’ some weird randm thoughts.

 

Memories….some of them keep delighting you, some still keep disgusting you n’ the others don’t really bother much!!
It’s so easy to snap off all the strings that get attached…..n’ so easy to get out of your sight n’ fly out of your mind.
All the friends that i actually unfriended (or rather couldn’t keep in touch with)…..was practically a fault of yours, a fault of mine or a lapse of attention under the pressure of time. I don’t really regret any of my actions but at times, i miss some of them i’ve killed.
Killing…..killing is a weird notion.Sometimes ppl die with out those daggers n’ spill of blood!

 

Yes, i use specs…..thugh i don’t have an enormous power( rather quite negligible power, for the record)….but i use it because it makes me feel wiser.
It shows me all the stuff that you can’t see. It shows me that at times those drops of rain are like the falling blue UFOs, it shows me the hidden/ unsaid words of your mind, it shows the truth, the fake n’ the unmentionables, it shows the realism in the fairy tales, it shows the true colour of people,it teaches that even if there’s a dawn after a nightmare…it doesn’t mean the next night u wn’t have the nightmare again, it teaches that your good might not be good for others n’ vice versa…..n’ it teaches that so many ppl are so nice when they need you n’ not necessarily vice verca.
It has super powers…..only i use it .

 

Super powers….it’s again a weird stuff…..magical they say
They say love has this magical power…..n’ they say magic is like an illusion……So see, love is such an illusion
Ok it took me 10 mins to write this utter crap…it’s nearly 3.25 or rather 3.28 by my cellphone n’ it’s really hard to find a taxi.It’s hard to find real love too…. i’m so very afraid to fall in love!!n’ i practically don’t have the courage to sell my guitars again n’ go off to chennai (don’t figure, if u don’t know anything about it)…….Ahh, i love my guitars…they don’t really hurt you, piss u off or asks the weird’est truths that you try to conceal from the world…..it just says what ever you make it say….

 

Some other night, i would just sit in my balcony n’ looked at the stars n’ thought of the random things of life….nah, i won’t smoke a cigarette, because i promised my mom not to do so.tonight i’ve managed to get a confirmed air ticket to delhi for holi to meet families n’ friends from my dad’s wallet….
It feels so weird to look up to your dad’s wallet.

 

But the meaning of realisation n’ dissapointing ppl is different to different ppl…..Some ppl realise stuffs at the age of 17 n’ some do this at the age of 70…..i realised something when i passed my class 12 exams. (what did i realise, let’s leave that for my next blog entry….if it ever comes up, that is )

 

the munky!.

Yesh, i do like pink floyd…..
but I hate that holi ka pink colour n’ that behari blue n’ that vicious violet…..
for the matter of fact i seriously hate all the pink other than the pink floyd 😐
happy holi…( to individuals n’ groups)

a scene from my psychedelics 2

 

the great escape of louise 

  

Louise takes the long route to home. Though her school gets over sometime around 1.30 but she reaches her home never before 4. She isn’t really fond of her school, it remotely attracts her attention but she doesn’t want to miss school even for a single day. The two n’ a half hour of isolation on the way back to home seems like all she needs.
The park near by her school has a big pond in the middle of it. She sits on a cemented seat under the tree n’ vaguely looks at the pond. She apparently seems to recall her dreams, but weirdly she hasn’t yet realized it’s not so easy to recollect the scenes from her psychedelics.
Instead all she manages to think about; is the tracks from the Pink Floyd. She doesn’t really care about the class test she has tomorrow. She knows all the other girls are busy digging the graves from their history books but all that she cares at this moment is what Dave Gilmour wants to say. She rewinds her walkman cassette n’ listens to the same tracks over n’ over again. She wishes if she could spent her life like this.
Louise hasn’t got too many friends. She thinks most of them have idiotic notions to view the world….she thinks all that she realizes, no one else can do. But there’s this boy who lives nearby her home. He gives her music CD’s from all the whacky classic rock bands. Now Louise isn’t the girl who‘s into hard rock music, but weirdly she listens to whatever stuff he gives her. She doesn’t really like the boy, but she likes whatever he makes her listen to.
By the time her digital wrist watch reaches 3.20, she knows it’s time to get up. She needs to rush to the nearby shop, buy a piece of chloromint, which would suppress down the evidences of the cigarettes she had smoked all these while, rush to the metro station n’ catch the 3.35 metro.

Before she enters her house, all she wants is to escape out. But somehow she has realized by this time, that it’s not so easy to escape out, leaving behind everything. But still she dreams of her great escape every night. Though she knows she has to return back those Pink Floyd cassettes to the guy next door before she escapes out into the blue sky.
She isn’t too fond of the city. Yet she finds it entangling her………her history books disgust her n’ she wonders what in the world would happen if she forgets there were 9 guys entertaining Akbar when there were so many things Akbar needed to care about. She likes staying quite n’ isolated because she thinks no one understands her, yet she’s too fond of the color pink. She hates her purple colored Salwar Kameez because she thinks it makes her look old. But she thinks she has grown beyond her age n’ when she’ll be gone forever from the city, she won’t probably remember the neighborhood guy but the cemented seat in front of the pond will come back to her again n’ again while she’ll dream of HER great escape into the bluest sky.

*one long journey into the far south…..n’ all she has, is a sad-bye…..everyone has their own way to escape out, leaving behind everything*

signature:
the munky!.

a scene from my memory, part 3…

Dear, Mother

 It’s Wednesday night today. All my friends have gone to call up at their homes. I hate that humungous line, so I’ll write to you. You also, reply in letter, please. Do not call me. I can feel your smell in your letters.
My English grades have gone upto B-. My friend Peter says that Jesus knows about it n’ is happy for me, but Daddy wouldn’t like B- grade too much. And then we were having this Games exam today, but it started to rain heavily n’ we had to rush to our rooms. So, I took my drawing copy n’ drew the mountains that I can see from my window. I hate the games classes; Mr. D’Souza makes us run a whole round of the ground. But I love to draw; it’s so easy to draw mountains. And then we went to have food at the mess. I don’t like the food. None one likes it.
Hey, did you know that our Math’s teacher has a white Labrador just like Bagha. He barks at every one, but he is my friend. I give him the biscuits you had sent. Please don’t be angry at me……I wash my hands afterwards.

Oh, oh, oh no……..something just happened. Everyone’s running toward the ground!!

 
Do you know what just happened now?? There was this bombardment at the border. We could see the smokes from the school field n’ the jet planes all over the sky. And then the headmaster made us gather in the assembly hall, and there was this entire blackout. All the lights were put off.

 
Peter says that the county is on a war. But when I ask him that why do they go on a war, he says that he doesn’t know. And when I ask him that would it ever end, he says it can only end when Jesus looks into it. But, mother, if Jesus is concerned about my English grades, then why isn’t he concerned about the war??
If Jesus n’ superman are both not concerned, can u ask Daddy to come here n’ stop the war. Well, he can at least give it a try. If he could once get our TV working when the cables got screwed…….he can also get this war stopped.
Peter says that tomorrow school would be closed. Then this would be the third time in this month. I hate when the school gets closed on Thursdays. We have our music classes on Thursdays. Our Music Sir, Mr.  Jhonson, doesn’t let us touch the music instruments, but I like whatever he teaches. Once when he was not in the classroom, I tried his guitar. I don’t know how to play like Mr. Jhonson, so I moved my hands over the strings. The Sound was not like the sound that Mr. Jhonson gets when he plays, but it was better than the bombardment sounds.
Can you ask Daddy to get me one, or you can ask Dada to let me play his Larrivee DO3 acoustic guitar. He doesn’t play these days. But he screams at me whenever I have tried to play it. He says me to get back at the Boarding school.
Mother, I don’t want to stay at this boarding school away from you , Daddy, Dada,Bagha………I want to be with you all.
Peter says, one of these days, the enemy army would enter the country n’ march into our hostel rooms n’ start firing.
Mother, would they put us in the firing line…………..Do you think we are really dying??

Yours loving
the munky….

(Braindamage: when your brain goes into a subnormal state n’ things seems way too simplier. At times you can be lucky enough to not have brains, so that it never undergoes damage n’ you won’t grow old…….you won’t grow wise……..n’ you won’t be able to understand all those lies)

PS: Larrivee Do3 part was just for the boasting part. Though my brother never lets me touch that even today.

her brush paints all grey……

And she paints the clouds with her painting brush
Thinking some day it will rain
With every drop falling on her cheeks
She feels, it would wash her tears again 

And she sits by the window looking at the sky
Singing her song with her silent eyes
I listen to the breeze in which she sings
I listen to all her cries 

And when I speak to her, she looks up at the blue moon
Listening nothing that I’ve told
But she wants to go out to the moon with me
Because “it’s out of this world”, is a belief she holds 

And my girl is a bit upset these days
Upset with the days….
She overlooks the colors of her rainbow
N’ her brush paints all grey

And she cries at the corner when it’s about 3.20 am
I think she’s still upset
But she thinks the sun would come out soon
She feels, things would turn out great 

And my girl is a bit upset these days
Upset with the days….
She overlooks the colors of her rainbow
N’ her brush paints all grey

the bengali idiot….version 3.2

It’s nothing new that you come across some weird stuffs in life……..One such stuff would definitely be the snapshots in the family album which might be kept in the nearby drawer of the wardrobe but might be stacked away in the deepest corners of your memory.

Now, why I call the family album weird………..it’s because it brings back the left out memories….which you think should have been preserved.

Like the snap of your vacation to Delhi in your class seven, reminds you of your first guitar which you purchased before your trip. Or the school uniform wearing picture which your dad clicked before you were about to give an engineering entrance exam, reminds you of your first girl friend who dumped you miserably during that period. Or might be the picture of you and your new bass (suppose Ibanez GSR200), reminds you of the girl on whom you had something called a crush at that time……n’ how she turned you down. Or the picture with your family at a Christmas Eve party reminds you of the first vodka shot you had later that night. Or perhaps all these pictures which remind you how you lost the camera in a train journey with which all these were clicked……

But the family album never comes out of the nearby drawer of the wardrobe n’ the left out memories never gets evoked, this is not because, you don’t have any will to recapitulate them, but because you feel you don’t have any time to recapitulate them.

And one night, you feel bored at your home…….n’ probably take a trip to a night pub of the city surrounded by some of the uptown people of the city n’ might be some expensive pegs of the imported scotch; in front of which your old monk looks so very cheap n’ perhaps the best of the bands singing on the stage…..now you don’t really realize what they are really singing, but you see people tilting their heads. They call it their headbang. And this is the time when you realize you are just a Bengali idiot.

And this is when you feel like you were in your home sitting in front of your table fan instead of the A/C in the pub, circulating the cigarette smoke all over, n’ you feel like taking a peep inside your family album.

And this is the time when I realize, you like your home too much. And this is the time when I feel it’s not a place to return back every night (or every weekend as in my case). You return back to your place because, you know it’s your place.

And this is the time when you realize, you need that sound of the calling bell, that faded door with cracks on it, those blades of your table fan, the sight out of your window, the spicy smoke from your kitchen which chokes you every single day, the fight over the remote decided between a cricket match or a bangla serial showed by your T.V, you need that stairways leading to your roof, the view of the clear sky( hopefully it stays clear even the day you read this again), your mom’s faded yellow saree which dries under the sun, the T.V antenna with the crow shit. You need every bit of it. Though it takes a lifetime to realize it.

And this is when you realize…..the city entangles you so bad, that you can’t leave it. It grows all over you…..runs through your veins….dreams though your eyes……..n’ by the time you realize you are enchanted n’ trapped within the delights n’ disgusts of the city, you discover, you have become a Bengali idiot……just like me.

Now, every time I talk about dreams, I know, it’s kind of a weird stuff. it gives you hope like many of those fake smiles in the city….not necessarily the dreams come true, but it’s what the city gives you free of cost.

And as I keep searching ways to survive with my cup cakes of desire in this city, I learn how to beg, borrow, steal, snatch n’ deserve.

Signature:
the brainchild

(antenna e kak………aami aabar obak)

differnet flavors of the moon…..

Now when I was a boy…..the dead sea was just sick n’ probably Hungary was yet another poor hungry guy. But tonight as the strong breeze outside the metro station sweeps my entire body, I kind of make an important realization.

Though tonight’s breeze kind of turns me on incredibly, but somehow I feel the moon still remains my favorite. As I hurried down the steps to catch the last metro back home, I knew where I was going. It’s my home where I get to return every night……though I kind of wanted to go to the moon. Can anyone take me out there……I’ve heard it’s out of this world.

 Now, at night time……when I don’t have anything to do, I keep staring at the moon. I really don’t know why. But the moon kind of keeps speaking to me. It speaks about the twinkling stars, the rushing clouds, the hazelnut flavored chocolate stacked in my refrigerator, it talks about the left behind school days n’ it talks about you.

Well, when I speak about the left behind school days, it kind of brings back so many memories……of which some delights me, some disgusts me. The first time I made a real friend, I never really thought if the person was better than me in academics or  better than me in smartness or better than me in looks or better than me in something like talent might be or just better than me. I kind of made a friend because I liked this person…….liked hanging around with.

And then when you think you have too many friends, and a real strong bond between all of them, your high school ends up. People gets scattered all around. And then even with an incredibly high mobile balance left, you never really want to give them a call or might be a STD call.

Wow….it’s kind of weird to see how the best days of your life vanishes out…….n’ how things change……n’ how lonely you become seeing you have no one accompanying you to a night pub for a drink. I guess, though I think I’m quite too much in the city………but I’m probably out of it.

Umm……..I might just sound a bit snobbish when I make a point saying I only care about a handful of people which might not necessarily include the people caring about me. Wow…..this is when I realize life’s such a great teacher, teaching you from your own mistakes.   

And after I come out of the last metro, walking lonely on the road, I know my shadow looks better than me. And this is the point when I realize that time flows by. Though I wanted to smoke a cigarette walking back home, but I didn’t really wanted to smoke………because I had promised my mother that I wouldn’t smoke tonight…….and I didn’t want to break someone’s heart who I really cared about, thought I haven’t ever told her that I cared about he in my some twenty years of wasted youth.

Signature:
Brainchild
(Time flew by staring at the darker side of the moon……..while the Floyd still marks the epitome of psychedelics)

the article: no name

You generally find people giving the ‘P.S’ at the end of an article…..but I decided not to waste your time n’ give it straight away.

P.S: when I made my neighbor read this stuff, she said it was some heavy bullshit……. I didn’t understand the motive or conclusion of this article. N’ said her pegs of old monk were stronger than mine.

The article: no name.

It’s not like, everyday you grow up; you remember every single day since your birth. The very first childhood memory, which I remember was my very first football match. The first day we played, we lost 6-0……the next day we lost another 4-0…….the next day we again lost 5-1………but we were happier than the winning team.

Now whenever I was upset, my mother always used to say………there are happy moments coming every now n’ then in our lives. It’s just some of them actually recognize them and are satisfied with them.
Phew…..my mother is a crazy person…..she has her own ways to tell things.

One fine Saturday morning, I opened my eyes to wake up…….I never found my dog bark beside my bed. I knew he was dead. I didn’t have my lunch n’ didn’t get a shave for couple of weeks………some of my friends told me I was overdoing stuffs….n’ some told me I looked like a convict. I knew my dog was the only true friend I ever had, who actually cared about me, more than I did about him. I didn’t really cared what others were telling.

Now whenever I lost someone or something that I loved too much, the moral science books used to tell me…….life is like the bed of roses………most of them came packaged with their thrones…. All that I can realize now is that those moral science classes were for the 10 year old kid……when these were some god damn lines to be memorized……….and when you really realize what these are, you get fucking too old.

What if our ages didn’t increase……..n’ we could take a walk to the nearby field after school. We would take a short cut, because you might be in a hurry to get back home; your folks must have been waiting…. We would pick the fallen apples. Chew some; collect some….as we always used to do. And the days we have an off, we’ll walk through the long route of the corn field……n’ I might just kiss between your ears.

Now whenever I tried to take a walk, I always felt I was happier than most of the others out on the street. I felt I wasn’t useless……they always used me as a bad example. And just when I said, I love sincerity ……someone pointed out how miserably, I lack sincerity.

Now whenever I felt real lonely, my mother said…..You might hate the crowd at the fare, but all of your friends are out there.
I’ve told you, my mother is a crazy person…..she has her own way to tell things.

And then this one day, I had nothing to do. I started to walk straight down the road. I had no particular reason to walk or nowhere to go. And just when I realized, I’ve walked far away from my home, I found I had walked for 4 fucking hours. The taxi ride back home didn’t bother me much. At least I was happy.

Signature:
brainchild

CRY

You are sitting lonely in the afternoon…….
Surfing through the TV channels
You can’t decide, like the stuff to see,
You can’t decide who fails…. 

You think that nobody really cares,
And your fake smile seems so insane
Just know, we all go through the same
Only our names get changed…… 

Cry, cry……why don’t you cry
When you feel alone my friend
Cry, cry……why don’t you cry
When you feel lonely again 

You clutch the pillow tight to yourself
You want to forget about the ghost….
Ghosts that lie within yourself
Try to exorcise the most…. 

Your emptiness gives this ugly feeling
You try to keep yourself occupied
You believe you’ve too many a friend
But none by your side when you cried 

Cry, cry ……cry my baby, cry tonight
When you feel alone my friend
Cry, cry ……cry my baby, cry tonight
When you feel lonely again 

You keep hiding secrets from yourself
Making you believe what you think
A betrayal by a friend or lover
Is just another neon blink 

And the Floyd gives you the solitude
When the people go acting strange
Cry a sound in silence
Which our voices can’t exchange 

Cry, cry…………I hope you’ll cry
To fight the loneliness inside
Cry, cry………cry my baby
Cry……

Signature:
brainchild
(“when we all feel lonely, we are together in some sort of way”)

A scene from my memory…..part II

Barir chaad ta naki khub uuchu……..teen tolar opore. Kintu aami toh 7 second-e doure chute jete paari. Aar dada ooi Led Zepplin bole ki jeno ekta ingreji band-er stairway to heaven-er intro ta baajate 35 second laagay.

Chaad theke naki ooi Victoria tao dekha jaaye. Dada class eight-e pore. Oo dariye dariye i dekhte paaye. Aami ekhon class five-e pori ……….aamake paachil-er opore darate hoye. Aami emni emni daariye sudhu pasher baari-r bhanga janla ta dekhte paai. Choto bela-y Dida bolto je ooi bhanga baari te naki bhoot thake. Aami toh ekhon class five………..ekhon toh onek boro……….bhoot-e bishes biswas kori na.

Chaad theke mone hoy aakash ta khub kaache…….. Besh bhaloi kolo megh jome che……….kintu jaani na keno mone hocche aakash ta ekhon o neel.  Ekhuni mone hoye bristi chole ashbe. Ei Bristi te aaj aar Tintin-er sathe Antarctica-y jaabo na……..aaj bodhoy ektu aankar school-er Drawing Khata ta niye ashi.

Iish….aaj khub bristi hocche…..khub bhije giye chi………kaal surely jor chole ashbe. Bhaloi hoye che…Mr. Mukherjee-r violin class-e kaal jete hobe na.

Dada ekhon oi gaan ta baaja-bar chesta korche……….roj I kore……..Dida radio te jini khobor poren unar gola ta bhalo kore shune paar che na………..Dida toh din-e teen baar radio te khobor shone……..mone hoy ooi  newsteller-er opor kono crush- trush hoye che……..hehe….

Aamar o naki hoye che. Besh onek kota chiti o likhe chi……..tokhon toh ooi cell phone aar sms chilo na………

likhe chilam “I tink I lov you……..aand if you become my girl frind I’ll shaare my mathz hom-work aand my tifin with you”.

 Uttor-e pelam…………”If something of this sort enters her math’s copy again…..I’ll complain to the principal……and I knows maths better than you…n’ I do not eat any one’s ettho……… go to hell.”

 Tarpor-e khub chesta kore ekta ingriji te ekta gaan likhe chilam………oo pore bollo porer baar banglay likhte…..aami naaki khub spelling mistake kori.

 Lake market theke ekta golap fhul aar ekta Aarchies gallery theke ekta card kinlam. Baari te baaje chaap hoye jaabe bole garage-e lukiye rekhe diyechi. Ki jaani jibon-e toh koto kichui sahosh kore kore fellam……… kintu aajo jaani garage-er konay golap fhul ta chepte giye che. Card ta hoyto hariye giye che.

Iish……ki boka chele. Puro shaare paanch taka diye ki bhebe je golap fhul ta kine chilam…..bhogoban i jaane!!!!

Aaj baari chhad theke aami o Victoria dekhte paari. Aaj kaal Dada-r guitar ta aami i baajai……….Aar aaj opore takale shudhu kalo nongra dhuoa dekha jaaye…………..se toh dhuoa aaj aami o chari.Aager moton aar chaad-e giye ooi prothom cigarette khabar uttejonata aar bhujte paari na………..ekhon toh pray chaad-e ooi guitar aar cigarette niye boshi……….maa jane na je aami fhuki…..tai pocket-e chloromint rakhi. Keo toh aar aamay cigarette ta charte bollo na…………

Rima Chowdhury hoyto Texas-e chole giye che……..google talk-e kotha hoye.Ekhon onek gaan likhi………karor jonno aar gaan lekhe otha hoye na…….….ekta local band-e giye ektu bass guitar baajai.

Dada khub byastho……… aar guitar-fitar baajay na. Drawing khata ta haariye giye che. Dida aar radio shone na…….aami ekhon radio te raat-er belay English classics shuni. Aaj kaal aar bishes English spelling mistakes hoyna. Mone hocche aamar boyesh barche……!!!!Kintu tao jaani na keno chaader paachil-e aaj uuth te bhoy kore??

I’ve seen too much in my life………..too much of a variety……..I’ve got so much to speak………….I’ve got nothing to say!!! n’ if I survive…………………….

Signature:

Brainchild

(*speechless…..*)