Sand in my shoes

I was walking in the sand. Had my shoes in my hand and the pants folded up to the knees. Cold, frothy water of coast playing with my legs. They would come running , touch and sometimes drown my legs only to retreat. Each time they go away they take a part of the sand i stand on. I look back and my footsteps are gone.

I could not stop myself from remembering how i had walked in the sand, hand in hand. Her thin long soft fingers kept on entangling mine. Innocence met flirt. Her body was near perfect, my eyes undressing her with joy and shame. She let it all happen and said nothing but all. She could always read me. I couldn't.

We all move on. We all fall, get up and move on. So did i. But just like the waves, the past comes running, touches and even drowns my soul in the memories of the beautiful things i have lost in my life. Time freezes and i am lost for a moment. And the moment feels like forever.

I came back from the beach. But somethings kept disturbing me. I realised that I has sand in my shoes.

I will always have those sands in my shoes to remind me of those moments.

Good bye Kiss

There was a salty taste in her lips. Probably moistened by her tears. Those thin but rounded cushions of comfort were dancing swiftly in mine, passive aggressive, yet in a rhythm of harmony in which we ware dancing in frozen moment. I could taste her tongue and she could mine. Her upper lip folded as if it was a petel of rose in my mouth only to melt away and slip below my tongue. Then it started playing catch me if you can, and i chased it like my a small boy. I was feeling my much more fuller lower lip in her mouth and did gently let go of it. Before I knew I was feeling her porcelain body with Salvador Dali' curves that was helplessly running away from my hands only to rebound back from the wall behind. I wondered and explored the landscape of my canvas, where i wanted to paint my passion. She had held my head by her hands and they were run amok in my hairs. I let them run knowing every move they made yet surrendering in joy. Her nails scratched my nape and I realised that I can die a million times for such a death. I felt her warm moist breath in my face. It was a liberating gush of damp air she had held inside herself that rushed out when she opened the forbidden window. I could feel her leg in between mine and knew that she was dancing. The song was CASABLANCA. I could hear it.......

"I fell in love with you watching CASABLANCA
back home in the drive and show in flickering light
how cold it cooks beneath the stars........

Hiding in the shadows from the spots
Moroccan moon light in your eyes
making Magic as the Moon is mine....

A kiss is still a kiss in CASABLANCA
A kiss is NOT a kiss without your side....
Please come back to me in CASABLANCA
I love you more and more each day as time goes by.......

I guess there are many broken hearts
in CASABLANCA......
I know its just a big white silver screen
But it hurt just as bad when I had to watch you go.......

A kiss is just a kiss.....
but a kiss is not a kiss.. without your side "

vagus ( medical for vagabound)

Some times i let go and things happen to me..... good things , even better things have happened to me in this way. i don't regret any of those moments when i have let it all go. One such moment was when i said yes to my Professor when he asked me to send an abstract to Chennai, Cardiology Society of India conference..... i thought that let me send, to go or not will be decided later or never, i will simply avoid him. i did send an abstract. it got accepted and here i am in Chennai an a Internet cafe because i have to kill time. the scientific ended at 5 pm and there is a musical program at 7 pm which i don't want to miss. Shankar, Ehsan and Loy are going to perform and it will be a shame to pass on that.

actually i am having a good time for some time now which i am afraid has reached a toxic level. normalcy may turn out to be boring after this..... first i went to health camp in the north bank of Assam where we had to cross the Brahmaputra on a boat and stay for two nights. i was optimally, on the first day and toxicly on the second day under the influence of lady methyl. if fact i almost proposed a girl i barely knew but was surely going to meet in near future, as a student or junior...... i had to confirm who she was from a photograph the next day....
then i went to kolkata with family to attend my cousin sisters marriage. she was always beautiful and we ( at least I ) always knew she will get a good husband.... she did . Arijit is a good looking boy( i know he is married and i should call him man, but that's how he looks) from an old 'bonedi' Bengali family. they have some 52 members living in a haveli type of building in Shobhabazar , kolkata. he looked honest and nice as we ( me, my cousins & the parents of us all )enjoyed the food, fights, the parties, movies, PRPCs (poro ninda poro charcha,meaning bitching and back biting ).

next was kaziranga. APICON Assam chapter, went with my professor, gave a platform presentation and came with the Head of the Department of Neurology. i gave a good presentation and my friends said that i will get the prize money.... i have been i such situations and knew that it hurts if over expectations are killed. it got killed. i was grounded back.
two days after that i started for Chennai. reason, it was a national paper and Brauwnwald E was supposed to come ( whose text book we study). i flew to kolkata and then came to Chennai in Koromondol express. though the train wad travelling south i was travelling north. Afghanistan. Kabul. i was reading Khaled Hosenni's THE KITE RUNNER. read a good book after a long time.... i was standing with Amir and Hussain( the protagonist's of the plot ) all the way..... realizing that not only me but many people are tormented by he past. u think that time heals the scars but its not time but redemption. how u do that is a matter of time..... someday i will be able to do mine.
in Chennai am staying in my uncle's place, who is a asst prof in applied mechanical engineering in IIT Chennai. the campus is huge, part of a national reserve for deers and black buck( the one that Salman Khan had killed and was jailed for ). just reminded me of my friends who used to prepare for IIT when i was busy remembering the scientific names of unusual animals & plants, and the reproductive system of rats or frogs ...... for my medical entrance exam. i did regret my decision when my friends from BE got jobs and i was still in medical school. now having attended the 1st day of the conference (CSI, the one that i have come to attend in Chennai, remember ?) i am not sure if i am at loss. in fact in the present scenario of financial crunch.... the health sector is completely unaffected. and as i see it i am loving it.

hope i get time to sit again very soon.........signing off for the time......chao.

Break up

Eyes open
I lie on my bed...
early morning
and my body is dead...
I don't feel a thing
nor a reason to get up...
A day is to start
and I am already fade up...

What is it you have robed me of ?
What is it you have stolen ?
Why is it that I don't feel a thing ?
am lost for words and am guessing ..!

Was it you ?
or it was me ?
Who killed the dreams
we both wanted to see ?

Wounds have healed...
Scars been left...
It pains no long
to sing those songs
but still I lie
in bed and try
to close my eyes
and dream to fly
away
someplace...
where you dont
have a trace.....

Good bye

Each day i talk to you
I feel, I am one more day close to
the day I will part with you
and its all Good bye I'll have for you......

Each day I talk to you
I leave these hours behind
that flew with you like a breeze
in the shed of summer Gulmohor trees....

Each day i talk to you
I find the meaning of life
in the mist of the vacuum of universe
as momentarily nothing else did matter....

Each day I talk to you
I cry, because i know
even if I try
I will have to tell you good bye.....

So, each day I talk to you
I wish I could tell you good bye
but after all that we had talked..
I realized that I again forgot
to tell you Good bye.......

Death

If anything I know for sure
is death hasn't got a cure
So each day I live to know
that one day I'll have to go.....
No, I don't, wanna leave this place
though the truth I gonna have to face
and when I go..., I'll never know
what's next life kept to show.


I write to you - Arunava
I know you will not read this
but for your innocent bliss
your company that we miss
your lazy "Hissss..."

for your friendship so mute
but like the melody of a flute

for your patient ears
that listened to all our tears

for being so good
for elevating everyones mood

for being second to none
for being so quietly gone.........

Arunava, I write to you
wherever you are
Death may not have any cure
but with a heart so pure
you never left us for sure


( written in the memory of Arunava Guhaniogi, my school friend and one of the best person I have known in my life..... who drowned in a lake in the campus of ISI,Indian Statistical Institute, Kolkata in 2001 on a stormy evening.......... i miss you Arunava)

3 Stormy nights

i know her for some time now. i had helped her with some clinical methods before her final MBBS exam.... i heard that she was an intelligent student. thats it........



she passed MBBS in flying colors..... became intern.......



it was friendship day. there was a party in a pub called ELDORADO and after a long gap boring duty hours in the ward me and few of my friends decided to have a good time in the pub....after going there we heard that it was only couples entry.....shit !! we are all happily single and now all that stands between us and happiness is a girlfriend. so embarrassed we pleaded for an entry pass but denied..... so at the end we i decided to call a girl... at 10 pm i called her "hello, Anju.... we have a problem, we have come to a party and its only couples entry..... we have got entry but one of our seniors have been restricted at the gate. will u please help "

"no thanks, we are having a party..." she replied.

we got entry after a lot of pleading, drank like a drum, danced like a wet hen, had a great time. after coming out of the pub at 3 am, i saw that some has tried to rob my bike. my rear glass was broken, dash board smashed, headlight broken.......Rs 7,000/ gone in repair of my bike.



my 1st stormy night.......



long time, no see. forgot about Anju.........................



few months after that i was working in my computers at 2:30 am.... suddenly the phone rang. it was that senior. he was drunk and he asked how was my life.... i wondered how did he remember my life at 2:30 am. after some stray questions he asked me " do u know Anju Ara Begum ? "

Shit...!! is he talking about that friendship day part ? he must be super duper angry and i am in deep shit... and is Anju's name Anju Ara Begum, She is Muslim ???? How the hell i didn't know that...?

"yes i know her, actually what happened was we wanted to............." it took me 1 hr of convincing that it was all for him and we did not tell anyone else..... he told me that there was a word in the town that my senior was rejected by Anju after several requests by him.... i realized that what have i done......... i will have to convince my senior that i meant no harm to him and impress him... and i have to ask sorry to Anju.... she must be also angry at me......



my 2 nd stormy night....



lot of work to do..........



i asked sorry, she said its ok. i said i am really sorry, she said its really ok. i said let me make it up to you, she said no thanks. i said let me really make it up to you.....please, please.....i begged her to forgive me by going out with me for a party. after a lot of perusing and begging she agreed.... we went out for lunch. it was bad food but a good outing. we talked a lot..... it was good to be with a girl after a long time.... i almost forgot that she was Muslim. why is that a big issue ? My father holds a national post in RSS, a Hindu organization.......one that wants a Hindu nation and probably a little less tolerant ( tolerance is for what Hinduism is famous ). my aunts used to tease me that being a son of a RSS/BJP man i will fall for a Muslim girl.... so for jokes sake Muslim was a big no no in the domain of my birdwatch or chick hunt.

she was smart, intelligent and nice to talk to. we became good friends... we still are...

one day she told me that she wanted to give me eid party the day before she goes home for eid.... i said yes in the same breath and waited....

it was Sunday. i had 12 hours of emergency duty and was tired. i was also hungry. it was windy in the evening.... the aura of a stormy night. i called her, my duty is over, are we going for the dinner ? she said that the weather was not very suitable for a bike ride so why not wait to see if the weather improves or not. there was no point waiting....... i had a job to do in the town and i had to go anyways....so i told her to get ready in 2 minutes, i am coming and lets do it....it started to drisel.... i picked her from the hostel and we went to a restorant...it started to rain on the way. "i am getting wet and i don't like it" she said. i replied " how can u get wet, all the drissel is blocked by me....i should be complaining....." we sat, ordred butter nun, chicken afgani and reshmi kabab.( i loved the fact that i was ordering non-veg food as the last girl i had dined with was pure veg, so i had to order either mili-juli sabji or paneer something-something ). we talked about life, AMC, childhood, family, 1st love, 2nd love, favorite and worse moments etc..... we also talked about the stormy night outside that seemed distant from our dining table. after coming out we had realized how stormy that night was as it was ankle length water in the parking lot. it was still lightening in installments and obviously it was raining. we went back. all the way we got wet like anything....in the later part it was simply pouring. left her at hostel... "Bye"...she ran in......

i reached hostel and the voltage was low. i went to bed.... slept tight.

next day morning i woke up to realize that my internet connection was not working. and no it was not the adapter, the modem was gone. Rs 1,875/... then my computer would not start.....UPS was gone, Rs 550..... then the LAN card ...Rs 600. then RAM ...Rs 1700.. finally there was a problem with the motherboard.....Rs 2500.... a part of the hard disk was gone.....cant get that.... my mobile fell in the drain Rs 5000/ and all the numbers in the phone memory were gone....... Now how STORMY is that.....?

thats what a reshmi kabab cost me...... in all the excitement of the eid party i forgot to switch off my computer and internet connection...cant blame a single soul except me.

Anju is a good friend.....or thats what i think of her.... but she is stormy. she is bold, intelligent and windy. i think she is capable of lightening's and rain but those are deeper emotions that i haven't and probably don't want to explore. the fact that i decided to take a ride with her in a stormy weather is more than what i had expected of my self being a Bengali son of a RSS worker who was jailed in the EMERGENCY in 1978 for being a Hindutwa activist. she has the potential to start a storm but i am skeptic if i should go out in the rain again......

i do and will cherish her friendship ..... and all these 3 stormy nights.

Eyes

Passonate yet shy

don't know why ?

Playful but quite,

ready to pick up a fight.

Piercing black

bullet's attack.

Oceans depth

mystries well kept.

Tells a lot, of what you feel

but tells me not, if it's real...

When I'm close to you
and see myself in you
then I know, you too
want to be seen in me
and
for a monent,
oblivion
eyes meet eyes,
they see on.



What a magic ?
What a play ?
It's all in what eyes say...

Maya Dutta

She was the top ranker female student in her matriculation exam of NEFA (North East Fronter Association - westbengal plus seven northeast states) way back before independence. Her father was topper, rank 1 in the same examination. She went on to study physics, chemistry and mathemetics in presidency college, Calcutta. Mathematics honours. She fell in love with a tall, fair, handsome senior who owned a car before independence. He was the son of a Jamindar from Dakha. Prince - they used to call him. It was a Uttam kumar - Suchitra Sen black and white classic.

Today she was strugling to open the selotape from the gift cover that i had given her. She was wearing glasses , tring to find out the corners of transperent selotape. She has glaucoma and had her cateract operated 2 months ago. She was wearing a white sari with golden par (borders of sari) that my sister had gifted her. She had 2-3 more gifts to be unwraped yet. The cake was half eaten...... She was still strugling to find the corners of the celotape. I watched her face, still glowing like a small girl waiting to know what has she got.

The Jamindar came to know about her love affair and immediately wrote her a letted to leave his son alone. She passed on the message to the jamindar's son who was then in Hyderabad as an officer in Air Force. He resigned the next day and came to stand by her side during her MSc finals.

He wrote me a letter once which i read when he was nolonger there. He wrore " Dear Arindam ( he named me Arindam but my name was later changed to Anupam after my paternal grandmother Anupama) you will read this letter when you grow up, i may or may not be there to see you read it....." i was in class 6 and my eyes became moist.

She eloped with him. She sold her gold medels to go to Nainital for honeymoon. Jamindar refused to give a singe penny to his son and her father refused to see her face again....

They strugled to survive. Had 7 children. He loved my mother as she was the eldest daughter. "Buri" they call my mother by this name.

My mother made ' ilish mach, rui mach, fried rice, payesh...' She was very happy today for my grandma. Today was my grandmas's birthday.

She could sucessfully open the celotape nd unwrap the gift cover. A parker pen set and a Diary emerged out of the crunchy noise of the gift wraper. She looked at me and smiled. She said "This time i will.... i promise"

I had told her 5 years ago that if she writes her autobiography i will publish it.

Happy birthday Grandma ( Dida)..... I know you will......

Alcohol

This is a pen sketch inspired by "Bacchus and Ariadne" painted by Titian (1485-1576) in 1520-23. This shows wine God Bacchus and his followers coming across Ariadne, the daughter of King Minos of Crete, who was abandoned by her lover Theseus.

It was done in a diary page without any intention to be preserved.... but one of my very good friend suggested that i should exibit it. I did. Got addicted to exibitions. I saw how my emotions get converted to images and speek to peoples i have never known or met. A bond is formed before even ' Hello '.

I didn't used to drink back then but now i do, once in a while. In joy or sorrow.... I have to be thankful to wine God for many reasons. He has made me call long lost friends late at night and made me say hello, sorry or i love you. He has made me speak to new people by mistake , that has grown into a beautiful frienship. I realised that how much inhibited we remain in sense that we supress our wishes untill its for Bacchus to let us free. Probably this is the reason why it is the oldest and most used poison worldwide. It also has its contribution to Medical science, as without it half of the diseases in the world would not have been there.

It is even my thesis topic " Etiology of Hepatic Cirrhosis in Upper Assam - a hospital based study". So my job is to find and study people with cirrhosis of liver and find their cause, most of them i presume would be Alcholic. How did they come to this stage...? There was a time when they used to think that drinking was bad..... there was a time when they took theri first sip and found out that alcohol has a strangely odd taste....there was a time when they used to say that i have full control on my drinking..... and then before knowing they end in the casualty at 2 a.m. with massive blood vomiting. They either die of blood loss or shame...... they die eventually every day till their death.

when i was an intern i remember a man who had come with cirrhos. he was a bengali and was married to a lady who was Arunachali.... ( i am also bengali and my first love in Medical college was also an Arunachali girl ). after few days of hospital stay and investigations his wife suddenly vanished. She probably ran away because of financial constrains, she probably left him because he used to beat her up, beat their children, spend all the money on alcohol.... she may have left him to punish him of his own deeds.... or probably she loved her so much that she could not see him die in front of her eyes... But at the end of the day SHE LEFT HIM TO DIE. Every day he hoped that she will come back.... she didn't. he had no money and no place to go. he gave me two phone numbers, one of his wife and another of his home. I called them.... His family had left him because he had married a tribal girl and his wife left him as he was a alcoholic. No one came, the wont even take my calls. I was his only witness in the last 7 days. He knew that no one will come to see him and no one will even come to take his corpse. But every day he wold look out at the door and tell me that some one will come from his home to buy the medicines. He had one son and one daughter , i never dared to ask there names. He died of infections in his deep ulcers due to inflamation of veins. I have never seen any one die of that cause since. He could have been treated........ One fine day he stoped breathing and i had to write the cadever note. The cause of death was given as cardiopulmonary failure. But i wanted to write ALCOHOL. His body remained outside the ward for 28 hours before police took the body to the morgue or where ( I DON'T KNOW ). He died of infection, alcohol, guilt, shame, repent, love, betrayal, hope. Or he had died years before when he left his home to mary a girl and regreting every single day after that. Did Bacchus kill him or saved him from the death he used to die every day ?

He haunts me till today.......

I still drink with my friend and enjoy it proudy naming them ' Happy Hours ' .............

Mute love

I like the way you love me
not a word you speak
not a play you act
yet you say it all infact.

who cares if we meet, who cares if we don't ?
who cares what people say and what they don't ?
we two know what we mean or not...
isn't it the biggest knot...?

when closed, my eyes can see a sky
full of stars , twinkling by
each of them tell a story why ?
they are there twinkling by....
one sweet one, very close to my heart
you , me and those mischief flirt
the air was that of a magical delight
seven lives won't make me forget that night.
Next day it was all gone
like an angel's sweet sojourn

some things were left unpronounced
some words spoken never loud
some how things never came out of the cloud
a magic, fate never allowed

You know i never will, but i would love to say
i love you exactly this way
as if you say me each day
I will love you but will never say...........

just a start

there is nothing called a perfect timing..... u start when u start....i am between some work and i had just come to my room to pick up a thing and suddenly i started writing this blog. why ? probably i had to say what i had to say. i dont know who r u sitting on the other side of the screen but i feel like talking to you. just like that. about stuff that make life. and stuff that didnt make it to life.

i have fallen in love and i have been loved. i have hated and i have been hated. has that changed me ? yes and no. they are all gone but there there with me in my mind always. i want to let them out. i want to say it loud for the first time that i regret leaving people who loved me and i regret hating some of the people whom i hated and probably harmed in any way.... but i wont change a thing , or else how would i have known this part of me exists.....

love me or hate me..... its me.