Showing posts from February, 2006


I was once picked up by police. Actually, that was not my fault. Nor was the police’s. we were just doing our duties. I was quenching my everlasting thirst for beauty, and the policeman was just working on an FIR.

Well, let me crack the nut. I know, your dirty mind has started thinking otherwise.

Yes, I was picked up by the police, on charges of eve-teasing. I was picked up by one plain-clothed policeman while I was still on my school-dress. I was escorted (not dragged OK?) to a policevan and was whisked away to the nearest police station.

Let me give you the background.

I was in class twelve then, and my school was, unfortunately, ‘only for boys’. Now, to tell you the truth, I have always, all of my life, hankered for beauty. No, it’s not sex or breast that attracts me. If a girl has beautiful eyes, I would look at it in awe. Similarly if a girl has near-perfect rounded impression of her breast, I would stare at it for eternity, without any ill feelings blotting my mind. Same goes with h…

aa mori bangla bhasha

Today is 21st February. We, Bengalis, fought for the dignity of our language against the mighty oppressors on this very day at 1952. Lakhs died. The seed for a new nation was planted, it germinated and formed Bangladesh. All for the language!

I salute the martyrs who gave our language the status to die for. And I request fellow bongs…don’t let the language die. Culture it. Trust me, it is getting endangered with the passing days.

Aamar bhasha, tomar bhasha, aa mori bangla bhasha.

My Valentine

May be I know what you wanted from me
May be I don’t

May be we were nice yesterday
May be we are no more

May be you loved me then
May be you still do

May be we can rekindle the old flame once again
May be the wind is pretty strong

May be we could forgive each other
As forgetting is impossibility

May be if you would have been there beside me
I would fight back one more time

May be you are happy
May be you are not

May be you miss me
As I always do

May be you can call me now
You know how much willing I am to go

Is there enough space darling
To accommodate me
In your world
I want to touch you again

Please hold my hand once again
Press it gently, let me cry
Darling, I want to get back to you
Dahling, I want to die


Last Saturday I had a terrible accident. I fell into a drain and badly bruised my arms and I was robbed off a chunk of flesh from my right leg (bloody, it hurts still after having painkiller).

Of course it was not my fault. It was the fault of two bottles of Haywards 10000 that I guzzled minutes before my escapade. And the Karnataka government should also be blamed. In the hullah-bullah of new government forming, they forgot that the roadside drains are deprived of any light. They should have known, people observe Saturday night in Bangalore religiously and drunkards have an emotional relationship with the city’s drainage system. They puke there, they sleep besides a drain and I have seen people crying and talking to the flowing black water (in the absence of any river nearby).

But let me make the case clear at the first go. It was a dry drain. Had it been a flowing one, I would have committed suicide by now, that’s for sure.

Actually I was not alone. I was with Sanjoy, my childhood frie…


(This is a highly boring post and meant for ‘personal consumption’. Don’t expect any comment and won’t be surprised if nobody reads it. Don’t care actually)

If I would have borne in a rich family, I would have married by now. Cause you don’t have to worry about your future. We waste our prime time to get a foothold, we have to first make sure that we can survive with our wife and, if at all, children. The thought that I may lose my job at any given day, chills me and deter me from getting married.

Is it good, or is this sense of insecurity bad. Of course, many people would argue that it’s bad. And some others, a handful of them, would say that this sense of insecurity is actually not that bad. Well, I go with the second class.

I think the sense of insecurity that comes with an empty pocket, draws you closer to human beings, and the greatest human qualities can only spring from you if you can just manage to carry your life that is, can never think of luxury. In which having a radio is a b…