Nostalgia

Third grade. That's when the blurry blackboard finally drove me to the eye doctor. My notebooks, a masterpiece of miscopied gibberish, were a source of constant frustration for my teachers. But honestly, I was secretly thrilled at the prospect of glasses. My wish came true, and I made my grand entrance home, the proud owner of negative 0.5 and negative 0.25 diopter, oval, silver-framed spectacles, complete with spectacle straps ensuring a secure placement (thanks to Baba!). Instantly, I resembled every strict grandmother I'd ever known and, predictably, became the school's prime source of amusement for the next few days. As a teenager, I really wanted trendy eyewear, which were sometimes hard on my father's wallet. I'd strategically complain about 'eyesight problems' and even managed to manipulate him a few times into getting me new glasses instead of just lenses. This trick also let me sit closer to my crush whenever the teacher put me in the back of the cl...

You know, I wanted to tell you that day, I got a second place in the school’s singing contest, hooray! But silence held me, what triumph could I claim? Two voices only, a competition so lame. With a hollow victory, I feared your disdain. But what I didn't tell you, and what you ought to know, Is how I conquered my fear, and let my voice flow? Since then, for everything, I kept my lips tight, Because you have always wished me to be quiet. Sometimes I did try venting out, you see, As it was hard to keep it all bottled up within me. But then the focus used to shift, it was suddenly all about you, And how I, supposedly, made you feel so blue. Also anything I share, Cannot be wholly safe under your care.   So yeah, you were right, in a twisted way, Silence is the safest bet any day. I'm forever indebted to you, For everything you have done for me so far, and for everything you still do. But sometimes I feel so unnoticed by you. No matter how hard I strive, my efforts fall through t...

These days, I don't bother racking my brains much. When it comes to even drafting an online complaint about a botched service, I let Generative AI do the heavy lifting. My energy, instead, is wholeheartedly focused on filling my virtual cart before hitting "order" on the grocery app. The last thing I need is another delivery fee, thanks to forgotten ingredients! It feels like a distant dream now, the freedom to spin words and create something from scratch, without the incessant buzz of pending chores or ticking deadlines. The last time I attempted to write, I remember locking the door and plastering a "Do Not Disturb" label on it. That's the level of focus I need these days. Also, this might sound odd, but while I value staying in touch with people, the mere thought of phone calls sets my nerves on edge. When I dial back, I desperately hope they don't pick up. Music, parties, or booze? Sounds like a recipe for bliss, right? Not in my case. At the first w...

(Unearthed from the digital archives of 2016 and modified) বিশ্বাস বাবু মানুষটি কেবলি ব্যস্ত , কম্পিউটার এর সামনেই তার সময় কাটে দিবারাত্র |  বারো ঘন্টার খাটুনি, এক মিনিটও নন ফাঁকা,  তাই বাজার - দোকানের পর্ব সব weekends এর জন্যই রাখা |  একদিন হঠাৎ অফিস এ গিন্নির call পেয়ে, tension এ পড়লেন বড্ড,  বিনা খবরে শশুর শাশুড়ি উপস্থিত সদ্য সদ্য |  এ দিকে ভালো মাছ কিছুই ঘরে নেই যে আনা |  অল্প সময়ের মধ্যে, ইলিশ, ভেটকীর কিকরে হবে আয়োজন, নেই তার জানা | ওদিকে বসু পরিবার , মুম্বাইতে বাস |  তবুও বাংলার nostalgia তাঁদের টানে বারো মাস |  তাই ছেলের বৌভাতের মেনু নিয়ে no compromise,   চাই ফ্রেশ গলদা চিংড়ির সাথে পমফ্রেট fries |  আবার রায়বাবুর ছোট পরিবার, বেশী মাছ আনলেই হয় নষ্ট , কিন্তু অল্প পরিমানে মাছ পাওয়াই যে কষ্ট | দত্ত বাগানের জেঠু বড়ো sea food ভালোবাসেন | Octopus, squid এর খোঁজে চুপি চুপি বাজার ঘুরে আসেন।  গুপ্তদা Delhi র মানুষ, নতুন পা রেখেছেন শহরে |  তাই বাজার হাট খুব একটা জানা নেই তার ঠিক করে |  রোদ, জল, কাদা, হই চৈ আর মাছের ...

It has been over a year since I actually penned anything new. It has been over a year since I tied the knot, too. No, no, no, I don’t mean to say that my marriage has anything to do with my creative block. That is, just, you know, an FYI. I summon all my muses I used to exploit before. Heartbreak, loneliness, rejection, existential crisis,  So on and so forth. None of them comes to my rescue now. Only our housekeeping aunt cares to answer my call somehow. “Didi aj kaam pe nehi ayenge, beemar hai”. Escapes, then and there. All my poetic endeavours. Straight out of the window,  Anticipating the add-on chores. You see, the apartment we have rented here in Bangalore is over twenty years old. A plethora of its daily tantrums, we get to behold. A tap leaks, a fan squeaks and something, somewhere, breaks apart the next day. This is just the least to say. The fridge stinks, the laundry overflows and the furniture gathers dust. My poor brain left with no other choice, has to attend to ...

As the mercury climbs outside, so does my electricity bill. Thanks to the air conditioner relentlessly burning a hole in our pockets! Ironically, I can't decide which is hotter: the heat blasting from my laptop or the one building up in my head. Flashing back to 2020, when we first transitioned to working from home, the summer was gentle, and rain a frequent visitor. Perhaps with hoomans confined to their dens, nature thrived. Ah, working in pajamas from our bedrooms! What more could we ask for? It almost felt as though the virus itself had granted us a wish. No more frantic commutes, just serene days at home (though not without a twinge of envy from our peers in essential services). With all the extra time, our happiness blossomed. We unleashed our inner Picassos like never before – gardening, singing, dancing, painting you name it! Even virtual team meetings were fun: cameras on, fancy attire donned, and coffee-fuelled chats filled with shared art, e-books, movie recommendations,...

For long I have sought solace in a shelter, That time and again changed its form.  Sometimes it was solitude,  Sometimes a storm.  Words mysteriously elude me now,  As I sit to pour my heart out to you. For my pen has known not a thing beyond dismay, And how miraculously you take that away!  It is strange how I do not want to scribble songs of heartbreak anymore,  And exploit my gloom like before.  For you have passed me the candle casting away the darkness I basked in,  And today I am willing to give up my melancholic pen with a grin.  It is beautiful how life leads me to roads I have imagined never. Despite this uncertainty all around,  You are the home I would love to come back to,  forever.  ----------------------------------- With the world wailing. And our future paling. And our mental health ailing. And our creativity failing. Sometimes it is a task to just  make it through the day. And I crib, I curse, I pray, I fu...