Life pot

The world is divided into two types of people,

  • One who speaks the truth and the one who believes in oiling
  • One who goes with the flow and one who goes against it
  • One who speaks his mind and one who reads your mind
  • One who is a daydreamer and one who is a night thinker
  • One who thinks, “If this day never stops” and one who thinks, “If this night never ends.”
  • One who is happy-go-lucky and who overthinks.
  • One who uses only shampoo and one who uses shampoo, conditioner and does hair spa.
  • One who is theist and one who is atheist.
  • One who loves sunrise and one who loves sunset.
  • One who loves to dance with others and one sings alone.
  • One who loves a crowded street and one who dances when the street is empty.
  • One who goes to party and one who stays at home.
  • One who understands poems and one who knows no one understands poems.
  • One who actually reads newspaper and one who reads only entertainment or sports page!
  • One who finishes a bad book and one who leaves in halfway.
  • One who makes paper boats and one who makes paper airplanes.
  • One who uses paper chits during exam and one who tries to write honestly.
  • One who sleeps under quilt and one who does everything possible under a quilt.
  • One who makes love at night and one who is lost in impulsive thoughts.
  • One who watches kites and one who stands under aeroplane to make a wish.
  • One who loves red & communism and one who loves everything but red.
  • One who wears yellow, pink, orange and one who wears blue, black, grey.
  • One who loves neon and one who hates it.
  • One who loves green & yellow and one who loves white & sky blue.
  • One who loves old world charms and one who loves skyscrapers
  • One who is an old school and one who is a new school.
  • One watches the beauty of shrines and one who watches the god resides inside.
  • One who thinks in omnipotent god and one who thinks his god is stronger than your god!
  • One who prays before little Jesus and one who prays before Balgopal (Little Krishna).
  • One who follows angel and one who follows devil.
  • One who is relaxed with life and one who is very scared of it.
  • One who forgives people easily and one who keeps anger wrapped in an envelope.
  • One who carries “Che” on left chest, one who carries Mao in red slogan.
  • One who loves a single woman, one who loves every girl possible.
  • One who remembers first love and one who pretends to forget it.
  • One who badly wants to be a bad boy and one who actually becomes one!
  • One who pretends to love his job and one who knows nobody loves his job.
  • One loves Marcedes-benz and one who wants to experience palanquin once.
  • One who is bossy and one who is friendly
  • One who loves daytime and one who enjoys nightlife
  • One who knows about Magdalena and one who knows about Vatican
  • One who makes your life a mess, one who helps you to clear the mess
  • One who hates opposite gender and one who speaks of gender neutrality
  • One who believes in leadership and one who thinks self education still rules
  • One who addresses himself by job designation and one who introduces himself without name, job, & social status
  • One who blames God for everything and one who praises him in hallway still he opens a new door!
  • One who loves to be busy at work and who has finished reading my bullshit.

 

©Joyee

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‘A Walk to Remember’ in Calcutta

“I am the man with the tambourine…”

It was a steamy summer night. The humidity level reached a new high and Calcutta was all wet in sweats. Everyone was praying for rain.
Suddenly I got a call from Esha. She is my childhood friend and my friend Asmit’s fiancé. When she said, “Let’s go for a walk” I was quite surprised.

“Is he busy? Or you guys had a quarrel once again?”

“We called it quits” She chirped.

“How dare you?” I was astonished!

“Just for tonight, let’s forget that I have a boyfriend, let’s forget that you just broke up with Emilie; let’s forget the outer world and chat like there is no tomorrow…as we used to…before this Asmit thing happened.” I used to know her crazy nature, so I had to agree. I came out from my ‘uncle’s cabin’ and she came out from her ladies’ hostel.

We didn’t go for sophisticated ice cream cones or tubs decorated with chocolate bars and Oreo biscuits. We simply slurped our desi “Kulfi malai” and it was truly my own ‘A Walk to Remember.’

“You are still a mental.” said I.

“You must appreciate me for being a mental.” she chuckled.

And we talked and talked; we gazed and gazed at each other with a smile on lips and glitter in eyes. I saw the city lights less lucrative than her eyes. For once, I forgot she was not mine.

She described how she loved watching the sunsets and blowing the dandelions, how she adored Chinese cuisine, how she took weeds to get rid of frustration, how she watched clichéd romantic Hollywood movies to believe in love, how she matched the steps with a Latino dance teacher, how she spent nights reading Paulo Coelho, how she spent days reading erotica, how she spent nights at Park Street bars, how she met a handsome Irishman at the Irish pub, how she tried to make a documentary on Armenian culture of Calcutta, how she rode bike in full speed and how she kept her boyfriends totally unaware of these.

I felt she is a silent scream; I felt her really addictive. I didn’t want her stories to end.

“Thanks for sharing things with me” I greeted.

“And you didn’t interrupt a single time.” She poked my nose.

I poked her belly, “One should not interrupt the storyteller.”

“The kulfi is tasty, isn’t it?” She chuckled and I came back to reality; I saw my kulfi has already melted a lot and I forgot to slurp.

“Now it’s your turn”

“My turn? No way”

“Yes…you have to.”

She pleaded like anything but I didn’t agree. I just loved to look at her without a blink and she twittered the whole time. I was flooded with emotions and words. Before leaving, she gave me a ‘goodnight peck’ on the cheek. I was happy and startled!

“You are not mine, but I’m a bit yours today!” I murmured myself and returned home.

©Joyee

A letter to the guy who doesn’t return home

To the guy who doesn’t return home at night,

You are the typical bad boy. You return home if you wish, you don’t if you don’t feel like returning. The world thinks you have gone nuts, you have nothing to achieve, nothing to accomplish, nothing to look after. Actually they think, you will not listen anything, will not take anything seriously and do anything properly. So they easily jump into a conclusion that you are a bad boy!
Believe me, I do get you. A pros, a drink, a puff, a party, a crime…whatever engages you at night, is actually a hallucination to keep you away from reality; and you are weak enough to fall prey to it. A hallucination becomes your fad when reality tears you apart over and over. There might be a storm inside you, there might be rainstorms or sunshower or something very poignant trying to come out of you. But you don’t realise it, sadly. So, you make yourself believe in cheap pleasures…a bottle of rum, a porn, a street prostitute, a powder roll, women, smuggling, gambling or whatever exists in the world. These things only intensify your senses and you go away from dream, love, sunshine and soul. You forget to look inside, you forget to show your soul, forget to appreciate little joys of nature. Then, one fine day, the real you dies to the drugs, to the crime, to the humanity. You stop feeling for home, for mom.
I do believe in your past. You once were most softhearted, soft-spoken human alive in the world. But I do trust you. I know, there is still a person, a child inside your dusky heart who tremendously needs love. I know you will enjoy the sunset more than dark smokey nights. I know you will enjoy the bright days more than the gloomy drug-stained nights and lipstick-stained shirts. You just need to believe, you are a good boy…you’re just a good boy with bad thoughts and worst past. You have to believe that life is new as day and old as time. You have to look beyond your hallucination. If you look beyond, you will see the melting sunshine, it has nothing to do with alcohol or your idea of enjoyment. Life is a love letter long enough to beat the paper rolls which carry powdered drugs.

Yours,
A person who understands your pain.

©Joyee

A break-up story

To my girl,

You are the love letter, I can’t read anymore, the same I hate to throw away
You are the broken nest, I can’t stay anymore
You are the melted eyeliner because of heavy teardrops, I can’t blot with my shirt or handkerchief
You are the story of broken home, I would die to rebuild…
Girl, you are the story to tell, notes to take and wishes to pin; but sadly, you are not someone to keep inside the pocket of my soul; you are always happy to be pick-pocketed. As long as you are with someone, they have most valuable gold coin in the world; and when you go they are pauper, penniless…a parasite. Still, you are someone to paint the days with brightest shade of yellow. I will always adore the afterglow of the sun when it sets rather than mourn over the coming darkness. I will appreciate the day even after sunset. I will admire you even if you go. You have made me believe in building castle in the air. You have made me realize how it feels to be in the storm and still feel like dancing. You have made me watch the beauty of a flying feather. You have made me realize the beauty of fallen leaves. You are a wildflower, you energize everyone to be wild.
Even if we part ways, even if we may call it quits, still the journey with you is a legacy. Guess what, even today when I stand at the window of our “ready to collapse house of love”, I only see “love”, still left in us. I don’t see future, but I see the finest sides of life. You are the cuckoo of the spring, no matter how many springs I’ve already spent inhaling other flowers or watching the other birds, I will still fall for you. And you will make me realize, what a life changing experience it is to listen to cuckoo’s song for the first time at the advent of the spring!

Sincerely,
Your man!

©Joyee
Pic courtesy: Fanpop

 

To the person who leaves

To the person who leaves,

You may go, dear. I will not hold you back. I will let you go, I will let you fly. I will make sweets and pack those in your box. I will cook fish on the day you decide to leave. In Bengali traditions, fish is auspicious. Fish will make your journey peaceful. I will ask goddess Durga to keep you safe, but will never ask you to stay. I will never say, “Don’t leave me.” If one stops a person who leaves, it gives dreadful results. So, I won’t stop you. It is truly the time to say ‘goodbye.’
I will keep you in my thoughts, in my memories and mementos. You might lose yourself in another city, in another place, in another woman. I might still love you the way I had loved for the first time.

From,
The girl you decided to leave.

©Joyee
Pic courtesy: pt.depositphotos.com

Diary of a jerk

Diary of a jerk:

The crazy winds grazed my face adorably, the first ray of the morning sun invaded my eyes and some morning birds kept chirping. On such a cloudy morning I discovered myself in bed with my ex. I opened my doped eyes and felt like I was just dropped from the sky! It is a very natural feeling when you wake up after long. And I slept like eternity! Slowly the memories of yesterday evening along with the steamy night came before my eyes and I sighed. I searched for the packet of cigarette and her solemn face caught my eyes. Once again her sweet face made me forget what I was searching or what I was thinking.
I looked at the walls; the tiny bulbs are still twinkling. The windowpane is also glittering, bedecked with tiny raindrops. The posters laughed at me. And I looked at her sleeping face. I gazed as if she is the sleeping princess and I am the prince charming to wake her up! Her lunar tattoo on neck greeted me a good morning. Slowly, my eyes rolled into the room, the floor…the paper rolls are still scattered, the empty bottles are lazing away the time. They too probably are quite surprised seeing us together.
I remembered how I met her last night, how she was crying, how I took her home…my home! I remembered how we powdered our noses and drank hard liquor as if there is no tomorrow. And then, like two highly reacting chemicals, we mixed up in bed. Thunders were deafening, lightning was loud and it rained torrentially. We both bafflingly tried to invade and console each other. I wonder how I am still alive after taking so many drugs together!

©Joyee