Thursday, July 10, 2008

To Kill A Hoping Bird

Hope equals belief. We may not readily agree to this, but hope indeed directly related to belief. When we hope for something to happen, on a some sub-conscious level we start to believe that it is going to happen. Hope is the much cherished hobby of the Optimist. Optimism shine a ray of hope on everything. So we believe. And as long as we take it for granted that it is going to happen, we provide our lives a motive to invest our time an energy on an another day to live and see if it comes true. And so we do for the next day. And the next. Hope is faith. We have faith in our fate and carry on to see if it comes through. For the most of it, it works only if we work for it. We derive motivation to exert ourselves to achieve what we wish for and hope we triumph it. And life goes on and on like this.

Then there are other things, which are beyond the realm of our hands. Like love. No matter how hard you try, no matter how hard you work for it, no matter how many bucks you drain to get that glowing skin, you can never earn love. It just happens. The best we can do is hope for it to happen. And so in the course we start to believe that it will happen. We will fall in love some day. And for those of us who have already loved and lost and regained our selves again. We hope for it even harder. For God knows, what a pleasant feeling was it to be in love. And for only we know how much our lives feel empty without it. So we hope even harder. And our belief only grows stronger.

For me, hope is a waste of time. Or so have I concluded over the last two years of singlehood. When I hope, I believe that I will be able to fall in love some lucky day. Because of this, unknowingly I halt some part of my life. I keep that part open to the possibility of love. It gets all spruced up when it experiences meager feelings of infatuation, chivalry, kindness, compassion and all that jazz. Hope gets ever stronger. And I sink into a belief that maybe this time I finally get to fall in love. Time passes by, and I take it for granted. I am in love. Or am I? For the nth time? Naturally, the daydreams don't really come true. Not even close to the rosy fragrance of feelings that would drug the idle brain. Nothing. What I believe, isn't true. Its just a fantasy. What I hope for, shatters to ground struck by a bolt of reality check.

Reality. I turn away from it. No matter how hard I try, I am just not able to see it in the face and accept it, leave alone explicating it in words. So I just leave it at that. Everytime I try to accept it I give up and end up popping in those pills. And all that jazz. But it is there on my mind, all the time. Like some pending chore I can't ignore. I have to be abreast of the reality and sort out my life accordingly. So what do I do? I try real hard not to hope. I try hard to unlearn my ability to believe in something that doesn't exist. I try not to believe that its never going to happen. Ah! What a relief. Not such a relief that I would smile at it. At least I know I'm not wasting my time. I try so hard to convince myself that I am never going to fall in love. Constantly training my mind to learn to live in the absence of it and relish my loneliness. I will succeed one day. Probably. One day I'll forget everything what was love. I won't need it. I won't hope for it. And I won't believe in it. That will be the day when I will be void of any emotion that wastes my time. But… If love is the only element that is deficient from my life and is the sole motivation to drag my life one another day, what will happen when I abandon that motivation? What will happen if I am free of any motive to live?

Wednesday, July 9, 2008

Is It Really Me?

Give up! You can't be perfect! All this while you live your life trying to be loved and accepted, And you're nobody. So why waste 18 years of precious life, trying so hard to be what everyone expects you to be? You can't fit in! You were born to stand out. Way above the crowd, where you can shine and be looked upon. All you gotta do is give up. How do you think you can be good? Donning the pretense of someone else's identity? Plugging your ears from the plea constantly filling your ears from within? And you ask me why am I blowing away my life in smoky circles of self destruction? Its not destruction, its liberation. Every puff that glows up in the end reminds me that I don't have a long time to go. Every gray of the ash that floats away, some empty memory of complete insignificance withers away. I don't care. You call me a loser, for I won't stand one night. I don't care. And she said, you left the closet open, what will people say? I don't care. And he said, colors don't fetch money! I don't care. And everyone says Oh Dear Lord! He sleeps with men! I really don't fucking care! I have given up. So don't expect me to be the Technicolor advert of sweet gentleness. Don't expect me to apple polish you all the time. Don't expect me to change back because that was not me. I wasn't me all this while. So I have given up. All that matters, is me. What I want. What I like. What I do. The good, the bad, the ugly. It's all me. I promise you that I won't ever hurt you. And I promise you that you can't have me in installments. You don't get to choose. For I won't barter my freedom to fit in. I choose to stand alone and I am rejoicing it. Finally I found myself, finally its me! So just give in. You know you love me, for you wouldn't be reading this line. As the cliché goes, life is too short. So lose that facade and find yourself. And give in to this ecstatic freedom. For there is no greater joy than staring into the person staring back at you from behind the mirror. And this is not just any mirror. Its the mirror of life!

Monday, June 16, 2008


Of the many perforations on the shower nozzle in my attached bath, there's this one hole around the edge that has something stuck on the inside. So when the water pushes it's way through, there's a thin and weak isolated stream shoots in a direction different from its counterparts that constitute the whole shower. I'm sitting here away from the shower in a position so that the segregated stream falls disseminated on the back of my head. It's a weird feeling of reminiscence. Its like you're standing under a light drizzle on a cloudy day, and the drops of water falls like little beads. They slowly trickle down your face and neck. And it's a weird feeling. My eyes are swollen red. I'm sniffing constantly. And my throat is strained. I was crying all this while. I can't say I was bawling because there was no sound. My mouth was stuffed to the pillow while I was trying so hard not make a single sound. And I could feel the intensity in my chest with all the breathlessness. Had I been all alone I would have screamed so loud it would have gild the lilies of all the neighbors. It has been a long long time since I cried like this. Its more of an outburst. I would consequently feel better. Your body does this to you when your mind refuses to function properly. Like a delusional person is slapped out of his pretty little escapades to make him return to reality. And my body stages this kind of a breakdown so that I return from my world of daydreams. So I won't be daydreaming again for some time. But it won't be long before soon. That is my escapade. That is the only place where I feel loved. That is the only place where I smile out of no reason. Nonetheless, it is after all unreal. And I know that. So I cry and cry. I strip naked and rush to the shower, but I don't even sit under it. I just sit under that weak little stream and let it precipitate on my neck. And just those droplets sadly trickle down as the tears have stopped.

Friday, May 30, 2008

Love Deficient

I agree. I completely agree when people just shrug off from my sob stories saying, "Oh! You're such an emotional fool…" I agree I am an emotional fool. I am the stupidest person on the face of earth who just can't learn from his mistakes. Even if you have average smartness, you would make the same mistake twice, at most thrice. But I do that endless number of times. And the worse part is that I have so well mastered the art of doing so that, I can tell much earlier ahead that I am going to commit the mistake again very soon. I scold myself, scream at myself, slap myself out of it. Only to realize that its of no help. I do it everytime. And I don't know how many a more time I'm gonna do it. I just hang my heart out on a string for a gangs of vultures to knaw and claw at it. It hurts. It pains tremendously. And it heals so slow. But then after some time, when it has healed, I hang it back out there…

Love is a clichéd term. And this phrase is clichéd too. But the thing is people just don't understand what really love is all about. And I don't wanna explain down here, because its inexplicable. It can only be felt. All I say is I'm deficient in love. I have all the love for everyone but not the love that I need. Have you ever wondered what it feels like to be someone's special someone. An undivided love. A special love. Something that can't be shared. Something that's just yours. It belongs to you and no one else. And it doesn't have to be your lover. It could be anyone. Most people have someone who loves them more than anything else. My brother has Dad obsessed about him. My dad has my stepmom loving him. My mom has her boyfriend loving her. My grandparents have each other. My cousin has his parents. My best friend is his mom's center of the universe. My another best friend (I have many best friends) has her boyfriend for such a long time, whom she's not even sure if she'll ever get married to against her parent's wishes. Most people have someone. But not me. That's a dumb thing to say. Everyone loves me. My family. My relatives. All my best friends. But they love everyone else too. Even dad loves me… or I suppose he does. But my brother is the apple of his eyes. He can do anything for my brother. The world means nothing to him against his younger son. I appreciate that. I past the phase of jealousy. There's nothing to envy in any case. I never shared such a father son relationship with dad. I thought I was the most important person for mom. I thought she loved me the most. I was content with the fact that of all people I'm special someone to at least one person. I was counting my whole life upon it. But how does it feel that the only feeling of love you have ever had is snatched right away? How does it feel that the love you invested in is fallacified in a matter of seconds? It's like it never existed ever. She finds her boyfriend and asks me to leave. And I leave. Its okay. I fret and fury and life's back on track. Like always. I have always been the second one. I have always had to share the least bit of love I get to people more important than me. It's become a way of life for me now. So I don't fret anymore. I just sigh.

If only living a life was that easy. The one thing I never learned is what is love. I never understood it. It's always remained as an element of enigma for me. Or rather an element of confusion. I mistake everything for love. I misconceive every emotion for love. I try to find love in anything I get. Is it like how they mistake anything for food out of a desperate starvation. My starvation is of the soul. It's so empty inside. I just try so hard to grope and grapple at anything to whole that void. But it doesn't. Because not just anything is love. My friend once joked, tell me one person you haven't had a crush on? It was a miniscule joke relied on the forgetfulness of an average mind. But I didn't forget. Because it's a sheer truth she blurted out. I just fall for anyone and everyone. Anyone who's nice to me. Anyone who's sweet to me. I just fall for them. Is it love? No, you'll say it's infatuation. But what do I know how differentiating between love and infatuation. For all I know is the feeling inside me that swells like tears in eyes when anyone is nice to me. When anyone is sweet to me. It's a crushing feeling. And I hang my heart out there like the stupidest person on the face of earth only for it to be stomped by indifference. It's not love. It's never love. They're just being nice. And I being an emotional fool just fall for it. I smile in vain. I daydream in vain. I cry and cry in vain. And then I go all over it all over again. I do this mistake everytime and still never learn. It's so innumerable now, that 'Heartache' is an understatement now. I just wish if only it would get all over once and for all. I'm so tired of doing this everytime. I'm really, really, tired…

Monday, March 10, 2008

The Halwa Controversy

I flunked in 2nd year as everyone knows. I entered a new batch very consciously. Thank Heavens, fourteen other classmates too flunked along with me. So in this new batch, I stepped in with an iron armour. We were the first flunkies in the history of College of Art. And on top of that everyone knew I was gay. So a double whammy. For the first few months I stuck to my herd (The flunky herd, who graze in the backside of all their classes) Then slowly and gradually I started opening up. I made friends with people from the new batch. And by now I was friends with most of the girls (Will & Grace effect- gay, girl and gossip are synonymous terms) Yeah there are a few guys too, the sweet and gullible ones, who don't really care if you're gay. They're just happy being friends with everyone, and I respect them for that. And apart from that I made nice acquaitainces with almost the whole batch, even the students from the Painting and Sculpture department. So by the end of this second 2nd year, I was on top of the world. I made so many friends and college-life was going so smooth that I started telling people around that this current batch is the best batch I ever had (No offense friends from my previous batch, I still love you. But cum'on we all know I wasn't much of a hit back then, was I?)


So right when I thought this was the perfect college life I could ever have, it all blew up in my face. One day, I got to hear about a lot of nasty stuff the guys talk about me being gay. One of the major ones is that, they call us "Halwa". Yes, you read it right. Halwa. I know, right? Why on earth Halwa? Like how does Halwa correlate to being gay? Why not Rasgulla or Gulab-Jamun or even Rasmalai, that even sounds gay. And how on earth did they come to know that my mother took great pleasure in stuffing Sooji ka Halwa down my throat since childhood till the time I even came to know the meaning of the term 'Gay'? So, my whole image of a great batch, great college life came crashing down like a castle of cards. I was surprised. I sulked and stuttered. And I was pissed. The names I got were most of the straight guys in our batch. And the worst part was that I took them as my good acquaintainces. They would always be nice to me and greet me whenever they saw me. And I simply couldn't believe that it was them who talked things like this about me. Not that I was any stranger to all of this. Being the class weirdo for ten years back in school taught me enough. But back then I didn't even know who I was so I ignored it all. And I was so used to it. But now after traversing the arduous journeys of coming out of the closet and estabilishing an identity for myself, this was something totally uncalled for. I was angry this time. I stopped all the routine formality of hi's and bye's, leave alone even talking. I stepped back into that iron armour. But this time, it was all stuffy and rusted inside. For a long time I was confused. I just didn't know how to react. But as I always say, time is a miracle medicine.


I realised I was angry because in spite of all the suicide attempts and the bouts of depression I slowly started to believe that the world is a better place to live in after all. My first 2nd year was screwed up, at least it was much better in the second go. I believed I was a part of a "batch", which is more like a team. And I was angry because I was wrong. But now I realise, that I'm actually thankful to all these people. They made me understand that nothing is ever perfect. No matter however hard I try, I can never fit in. I will always stand out. Be it in college or workfront or family or anywhere else. I was born to stand out. But it's fine. I accept it. I'll read it otherwise as : "I was born to be out-standing!" How about that? So bring it on! Call me Halwa if you want. If I can make peace with G**** then this is nothing. And you know what? I even love Halwa. The only halwa I don't like is Sooji one (Sorry mom, I always hated it!) But I'll make it easier for you. Call me Gajar Ka Halwa, in case you forget the name is Shubham Bose Roy.

In Front Of My Eyes



Forgetting is tough, your basking face each morning

Forgetting seems hard, your silly jokes while my crying

What happened to that sweet dream that I imagined

Why did reality strike so hard and so abandoned

I had been living in darkness, a long never ending night

You rode the chariot of sun into my life, with the blinding light

Blind indeed went my lonesome heart, in your love of great height

Lost in a world away from all senses, hear, feel and sight

And slowly…

The serpent of change slithered in our lives

And slowly…

You moved on and away

And slowly…

Everything changed

And slowly



In front of my eyes, my dreams catch fire, while I stand here paralyzed

In front of my eyes, all the glories set ablaze, blow away in ashes

In front of my eyes, all the emotions shatter down, while the debris shoot away

In front of my eyes you leave me And I had to let you go away


You're still there, all the time and all the mime

Right in front of my eyes….


Its so hard to hold on to this act of dignity and emotionlessness

Its so hard to accept your emotionless act as if nothing happened

Its me who cries everytime and every night

While you're there smiling away, right in front of my eyes

When will come a day that your thought would let me go unaffected

When will come a day that I'll have more important things to think about than you

And I will be strong enough to smile at your joy, right in front of my eyes

And slowly…

Life will return to where it started

And slowly…

The night will follow the day

And slowly…

Someone would come again with the light

But slowly…



In front of my eyes, my dreams catch fire, while I stand here paralyzed

In front of my eyes, all the glories set ablaze, blow away in ashes

In front of my eyes, all the emotions shatter down, while the debris shoot away

In front of my eyes you leave me And I had to let you go away


You're still there, all the time and all the mime

Right in front of my eyes….


This the circle of life

Day follows night, followed by another day

But what we learn from our errors in the day

We try not to repeat it when the nights sway

This is the circle of life

We learn to love and experience heartbreaks

Then we don't keep our hearts in fragile jar

And we try not let anyone break it ajar

Hush! Don’t Move

One by one the days go by, and I'm standing still in the middle of nowhere

Slowly and slowly life rushes by and I don't know where to start

I'm standing here with my inanimate feet begging me to take a step

I'm holding still suppressing my sighful breath screaming to be exhaled

The helpless sun sneaks out of the horizonn behind those eternal clouds

The violets blend in the red all hushed up like some doleful offender

The winds grows cold sliding right beneath my ears whispering something

And this earth keeps always turning away to the dark blindfolded universe


What happened to the world why does it always sink deeper

What happened to the people why do they give in to defeat

What happened to the self that once held all beliefs

What happened to me I'm melting constantly this defeated heat

I'm standing on a quicksand waiting for don't know what

I'm closing my exhausted eyes inspite of hoping for the light

When will you come and pull me out of this holding my hands

When will you wake me up one morning and be right beside


I'm so tired of standing now maybe I'll just sit for a while in the twilight sky

Maybe I'll lay down a bit on the warm grass under this starry stillness

Somewhere near a stream splashes by just too busy with itself

The lullaby winds grow even stronger and I fall asleep in its caress


What happened to the world why have they forgotten the beauty

What happened to the people why have they forsaken all feelings

What happened to the self that once knew to fall in love

What happened to me I'm constantly losing myself in these dreams

I'm standing on a quicksand waiting for don't know what

I'm closing my exhausted eyes inspite of hoping for the light

When will you come and pull me out of this holding my hands

When will you wake me up one morning and be right beside


Suddenly a meteor flashes above

but why does it thunder so deafeningly

A strong feeling of an end surges high

Tears flow shattering hopes endlessly

Will you ever come I don't know the answer

And I don't want to find it anymore

Will you ever wake me up some morning

And I can sleep with that question nomore


I'm standing on a quicksand waiting for don't know what

I'm closing my exhausted eyes inspite of hoping for the light

I will just let this earth clinch me down deeper every moment

And I will sleep a dreamless night with no morning shining bright

Cold Held Still

The chill sets within and everthing grows cold

Slowly the blood freeze and my heart goes numb

A warm breath and a long sigh escapes

Mist sprawling all around sprawling in the eyes

These months of throbbing pain return every time

Stranded in the memory lane all hush and quiet

Someone comes rushing by, footsteps echo hard

In the middle of this winter night who's knocking at my door?

Is it you death who has come to relieve this anguish

Or have you still forsaken me?

Till I let out a wail of desperation?

I've spent a thousand nights staring in the dark

Groping to find myself or to find some trance

I've waited long enough, patience withers away

I can't live like this with a paralysed body and mind

Morning light battles its way through a dismal creak

I have to stand up to open all doors

Death may have forsaken me but life is waiting to be embraced

The mist melts down into dews and trickle out of those eyes

Everything still seems frozen but the sun grows warmer by the time

Slowly the blood melts and rushes to the heart

Someday my identity will surface upto my knowledge

But whats the use of stagnating till then

Let me step out in a warm jacket of faith in time

Let the distant sun heal all my pain

And let the chilly winds show me the way…

Silent Night

Silent night. The dread of his heart. As the clock ticks by, it get's quieter than ever. And every moment his fear expands within. Pin drop silence. Just the monotonous ticking of the second's hand. He can even hear his breath. In and out. At least in the summer the rhythmic noise of the jammed ceiling fan created a sufficient diversion. But it's so cold now. Probably the winters. Has the Christmas gone yet? Don't remember. All day long his mind would be busy talking incessantly with everyone around. Chatting. Gabbing. Joking. Laughing. Smiling. Sulking. Et al… But now, everyone is asleep. And it's so silent. If only he could turn deaf. It's like those lunatics who constantly hear the sound of a wailing child, so they dwell amidst mindless rock music. But in his case, he never heard anything. And that was the case of irony. He heard nothing at all. Silence. As if the time stops. The seconds hand doesn't tick anymore. Silence. Sad and disturbing as if death is lurking around here somewhere. Only it's too scared to embrace him. He's all alone and doesn't know what to do in these stagnant moments of introspection. He avoids the mirrors throughout the day but now he can see himself staring back at him. Funny, there's no expression. Just a blank, dead stare. And there's a hole in his chest. A void. A choking emptiness. And it burns larger and larger everytime he inhales. Like a smoke he used to puff everytime. And the smoke circulates inside like a mist between illusion and reality. And the lusty way it turns and twirls while rest glows and burns into ashes. All these years he has desperately tried to find out what once filled that hollow. But it was like groping in the dark for an unknown entity. Sometimes he would be enlightened. Other times too frustrated. As nothing just seemed to fit in that empty circle. The road to his answers was locked. Although he has the keys, he dare not open it for the wrath of the God would befall upon him. So he just sits back everytime in his little cage of barbed wires. Time and again the barbs would tear into his flesh but he doesn't cry anymore. It's a substitute for all the pleasures he had once abandoned to seek something so much greater, only to realize that it's too magnanimous for his meager comprehension. So he just sits back. It bleeds. It dries. And it heals. He sits back and sits in a state of awe. Observing the escapade of life slithering onto him like a serpent. The moment he discovers the oddity of it, the serpent's grip tightens over the faint lines beneath the pale thin skin on his wrist. But what the hell! Let it rip. Let it end. But my hands are tied and I can't simply help that poor little kid who has been searching for his soul all along. And he is still a kid with those innocent eyes wondering why does he feel so empty all the time. So like the fear of the boogeyman, he fears these paused moments where life halts. And she returns everytime. Who is she? Is it his mother who he never saw after she kissed him before he sank into a last peaceful slumber? Is it the girl he fell in love with who he shivers to even remember? Who is she all dressed inwhite, pacing towards him? She unlocks the door and opens her mouth to say. But I know the words she would utter. "Time for your pills."


Springtime Winds

Just in a couple of weeks the chill is going to fade away. It won't be freezing cold to relieve of our layers of winter clothing. But a cool spring breeze sneaking into our cotton shirts and tingling a silly sensation. The colors will be so much different. The blue will be brighter and green will be shinier. No summer yellows, no autumn oranges, no winter grays and browns... just the mist washed blue of skies and the new born green of fresh leaves. Oh, and not to mention the Valentine's season. Add a hint of bright crimson red to the topping. And you got the perfect recipe for a mushy year ahead. Well, maybe not a year. Maybe just uptil the 12 o clock suns seems too hot to be fooling around. Love is in air. Crane your necks out of your shells and smell the air. You feel will it. Every year this happens. I can feel love inspite of the fact that I haven't found true love yet. But this is the season that blows away the shed leaves of dismay and despair. Of heartbreak and dissapointment. And sprays a new fragrance of hope. A hope, that is so intense as if you believe with your utmost optimism that something good is gonna happen. Something like never before. Probably love. Or maybe even better. Just this hope. A hope that sails us through till the months when the freeze returns in the year end. But there's hope. That next year won't be a celebration of lonliness. A hope that there will be someone warm, saving my emotions from freezing up in the cold. So let's get aboard. And sail this beautiful journey of life. A beautiful year lies ahead...