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.