Nostalgia

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 আকাশ ছোঁওয়া দর,  চিন্তা নেই, আছে internet er বর |  এখন AC র আরামে বস

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 those fir

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 fuss my way.  And during those times a glimpse of your smile  reju

Today. Today I fought with my parents really hard. Today I screamed my lungs out playing the victim card. Until my throat ached. Grilling them down for their mistake. All because, All because they had messed up with my books on the wall rack. And misplaced my collection of bookmarks. Trivialities that I guarded like a treasure so long.  Obsessing over where each of my things belong. Just like how I used to as a little girl. And I let my demons unfurl. The only difference being that this time,  This time they didn't chide me with a frown. Or calm me down. As always. Instead. Instead for the first time I noticed them tremble within. For the first time they looked feeble and lean.  For the first time I felt the consequence of my rage. For the first time I felt the vulnerability of their age. I could no longer run to them like how I used to as a little girl for anything and everything that went wrong. Now the sack on their shoulders already weighs a ton. The ephermality of life with th

My creative juices have been waiting for me  To be summoned, since long, But little do they know,  That my will to procrastinate is uncannily strong. I spin stories in my head,  Throughout the day. But when I try catching them on paper, They conveniently run away. After an era of contemplation, I manage a line or two, Honoured, I reward myself with a distraction again, Of Facebook and YouTube that I get to pursue. Then my vocabulary limitations, Slyly play their cards, I scour for my lost self-esteem  Along with the right words. A twinge in my tummy, Strikes me out of the blue, As I devote the next couple of hours, Racking my brain for a term, I once knew. Phew! Drained, dejected, disappointed,  I give it up all now, ‘Until next time’  I sincerely vow.