teenage angst.

i think i'm far from teenage angst.
yet when we have our backs to each other,
i dream about the patch of dreamy rainbowsky
that surrounds you..

their voices seem to rise above the din in my head.
and even if i walked away today, trying hard
to hold my thoughts running amok, i
felt your scent pressed in between our stories.
the pages i write about you, about those eyes
that have haunted me eversince
i ran through the rain, alone.
and, whenever those buckets of moonlight
rain on me in the dead of the night
i remember your face,
staring at me during the gaps
between our mindless laughter,
half-embarrassed, half-delighted
at the jokes we crack.

maybe we are the couldhavebeen
that could have been real.
yet we might remain
just a tethered memory
in the folds of this godforsaken town.
away from the ever-bustling crowd,
we might just an die a death everyday,
our music sinking into the purple hills,
like a lullaby to the rainclouds in mid-october.

i think i'm far from teenage angst.
yet i want this uneasy silence to last.
i want our eyes to meet all of a sudden,
your eyes staring into mine for a second and a half,
and you smiling childishly, then.

i like the way your blurred photograph
weaves a distant dream unto my skin,
and even among a horde of people
you often turn back to see if i'm there.
and even if i run far far away,
your words play like tunes in my mind.
our stories running through my veins,
and that look in your eyes i cannot seem to forget.

but we are only a figment of my mind, aren't we?
you don't pine for me in the folds of the night,
and you don't think i could be the light
you need.
you might just tuck me away in your hidden past,
like a secret no one ought to know,
just a smile that bled from destiny..
for you,i will be that tethered memory,
a scar-story on your wrists,
a make-believe reality at your fingertips.

and for all you know,
you might just be the teenage angst
that i fondly built up
as i walked away today.
the teenage angst that
could not be gathered in poesy.
only a tethered memory.
only just a tethered memory.

A Happy Diwali Post.

Diwali Last Year.

Diwali This Year.

I might be away from Home but the festival of lights remains the same. I don't burst crackers as a rule but every year lighting candles with Maa is one of my favourite home-rituals - Choddo Prodeep. This year I lit candles outside our room. Sadly, I couldn't light fourteen candles. The matron said people had to pass so not many candles. Plus, not many candles have been bought. Shall light some tomorrow as well. We have a Diwali Party by juniors tomorrow, I think, in protest of the party by the seniors today because we hadn't been invited. Not that I care much; I hate crowds and the food will most probably be vegetarian. :(

Anyway, Happy Diwali to all of you. :) May the festival of Lights bring fireworks of joy and prosperity to your lives. Have a safe Diwali while I sulk about missing home. :( :(

Chasing The Sky.

It didn't take me much time to realize that I was almost chasing the sky today when you guys egged me on to photograph the sky. The evening sky here has a charm of its own. One of the few things that keeps me grounded here. Today the orangish churning sky captivated this random photographer and I persisted to run after it. I would've lost all sense of time had you people not joked around about my weird positions trying to take the pictures.

I ran from near the auditorium where the sky looked fiery - almost as if it were on fire, to the lawn hoping to get a better view and then, to the end of the iron-concrete wall that separates the temporary campus from the other wings of the university. Everytime I moved in closer, I moved farther away from my sky. Everytime I expected to get a better picture, I lost a part of my sky. Each time I thought I had the sky in my palms I lost the fiery gleams of orange light peeping through the clouds. A little closer and I would have probably lost my marmalade sky forever.

My dreamy sky is my muse. It engulfs me. No point chasing it. No point capturing it in my starshine eyes.

the purple sun cannot stop the train of thoughts.

and, i write in crumpled letters about all the
shattered reveries you bring me
suddenly in between lectures.
in word doodles i create a you i want.
in word doodles i create a world i need.
perfection, my love, perfection!

but you're just a little boy. only a little boy feverishly in love.
you'll lose yourself in textbooks. in a computer game.
in a moonlit night. in monsoon.
in a chocolate fantasy-conversation we couldn't initiate.
you'll lose yourself in the words i gift you.
in lovesongs. in the sepia of the lake.
oh little boy! you cannot be a man so soon.
and your mother thinks you're too young to have a lover.
she's ignorant that way.

oh silly little boy! i've been bruised before.
and it hurts nomore.
i've cried before. now i just have tired eyes.
and celebrate my inability to dream.

but you're just a little boy. with a childish half-smile.
and a naive twinkle in your eyes.
you won't understand.

you won't understand the tears that don't show.
the words that i don't utter. the silence that speaks far too much.
you won't understand how i need to run away sometimes.

but you lose yourself. you're too young to be a man.
and in your tiny blue satchel you carry your world,
too small for me to fit in?
your music keeps me sane yes.
strumming life back into me. life tiptoeing back.
silence isn't deafening. the tunes in my head make sense.

you have a magic, little boy! and i like
how your blue sky wraps me up.. how the dreams
turn a little sepia and dissolve.
but you're only just a little boy and you won't understand.
you won't understand.

Back To The Grind!

The holidays slipped past by like the blink of an eye. It feels as if it was just yesterday that we boarded the train and spent an entire journey talking aaboltaabol, and waiting for us to arrive at Kolkata. Thirteen days just past without us even understanding. The Pujos were fun. I've never had so much fun during the Pujos holidays even in school. Met up with friends. Ate, slept, ate, slept. Visited relatives. Ate, slept, ate, slept. Metro rides. Running around like mad. Walking around aimlessly. Chance encounters. Oh what fun! ;) And I grew up a little as well!

The journey back today was rather fun. Chicken sandwiches, naps and a little kid who kept us entertained. Neal, his name is! The generationext Govinda of Bollywood. :P With a fetish for Cadburys' Bytes and an overprotective mother.
The car ride back to the hostel was comfortable but the shitty music kept pissing us off. Well, came back and am back to the grind. Unpacked. Clean up the room and washed clothes. :( My roommates are still not back. The block is still half-empty. There's a kind of weird loneliness, and those who are back are sleeping. SLEEPYHEADS!!

I spoke to the Little 'Un on Skype (a completely new experience for him!) and to the Special One on sms. Ma's a little down.. Ghor khaali khaali laagchhe she says. :( Baba's a little worried too.

Well, university starts tomorrow though I have no clue how 'cause only thirteen girls and ten boys have returned today. Nevertheless, we're back to the grind!

P.S. : I still don't know whether to make this blog private or not. Please help?

Blog Going Private.

This is it! My Blog is going private. Yes PRIVATE! Anyone who wishes to read and NOT copy to their blogs what I write in mine are welcome to send me a mail for an invite.

send mail if you want an invitation to read this blog.

rebel.deya@gmail.com

This blog is becoming private on the 15th of October.

The red painting somehow reminded me of the BIG red suitcase I carried back home. Keeping an eye on it all of the nine and half hours during the journey back home, while the rest of them slept. Two of us played NFS and listened to music on the Ipod. Watched the starry midnight sky as the train lurched forward. But not moving an inch from near the suitcase. My BIG red suitcase! I wonder was it only clothes and books I was carrying in it. Or, did I bring a part of that life, that city here as well? I wonder why it took three guys to put it in the train when I boarded. Burden, they said! Burden! I think I DID bring that life here with me. That solitude, that quietude. The blaring music and the earphones. The silent observation. That silence. The darkness. Staying up till 4 am. Did I bring all of that home?

People live parallel lives, don't they? A family, a profession, school friends, university, clubs.. but how often do they get entangled in these lives? How often does one life dissolve into another? Isn't it difficult juggling lives? I'm a new player. Just a new player. A new clown in this circus called The Big Bad World. Called Life. I don't know the rules. And so I got disoriented. Lost my composure when I lost one life in the crowd all of a sudden. All these years, I've just watched the crowds from a distance. This time, I lost my way bigtime. Let one life dissolve into another, and let it run through my fingers like grains of sand.

The painting shook me back to consciousness. The red suitcase shouldn't be burden. The memories I carry shouldn't be burden. And it'll take some time to merge those worlds. It'll take some time for me to get used to my parallel lives. All I have to remember for now is whenever I travel from one world to the other I have to slip off from the Deya I am in one world and change into the Deya of the other realm. Strange, I know. But magical it sounds to me. :)

... And there, we were thinking why this painting costs a whooping 35K. Methinks the painting is priceless. :P