drought

mgims installed wi fi and the wi fi doesn't allow you to surf porn or torrent. luckily the brilliant wi fi installing scientists of mgims forgot to block piratebay.
as usual, slow net connection.
yet better than my melghat room with no net. something better than nothing.

grabbed a lot of strength to watch a romantic movie, started fault in our stars, and stopped it in between, will watch it tomorrow. the ed sheeran song is good.

"jitna kamata nahi hai usse jyada to udata hai"
perfect lines for me now. i didn't even get a single penny of my first ever salary as a medical officer and i booked a thunderbird 350. funny. even funnier, requested 50k from my parents for a laptop and instead of lappy i bought a sony dslr and finally... finally a yamaha acoustic guitar. wow. and now.. i need a capo, a tuner, and even a better lens for my dslr, practically, and literally speaking, with a whole sole purpose to shoot the moon, the full moon, the red blazing full moon when it is on the horizon.
end that toll with another quote - wishes have no limits.

last week mgims denounced 3 time defaulters from attaining a pg here. i realized i am 2 time defaulter, so, lucky, for the moment. who knows what flutters the future winds may bring.

talking of the winds, the evening winds brought showers here at wardha today.

past 2 years i was a caged bird with no time to leave books to unwind the bengal climate. now, seems just the reverse. caught in the middle of the jungle, with half a dozen people to talk to. a fresh monsoon will gift you leeches. a summer tide will gift you an ass burning day with no water to wash your ass. a winter, cool winter, no complaints. happy sun basking. too many snakes. foxes greet at fall of dark. sometimes jackals. bear.. heard of it, i didn't spot a bear though. lots a monkeys and birds. and motherfucking forest officials fucking the forests. the road to melghat is nauseating. everytime i cross it i make a wish - next time i will be on my bike.

what else. england got ass kicked by bangladesh today. my sweet kolkata knightriders bought a handful of deadliest spinners, keeping in mind of narine's action flaw. and atletico de kolkata won the first isl trophy. remarkable achievement from place which hardly plays any game. seriously. for 2 years i kept searching for guys who would play cricket with round arm action with a tennis or rubber cricket ball. the whole bengal plays 1 touch out cricket with plastic balls. yup. and they petrified of of round arm actions. they do play a lot, literally too much football. it rains there too much and they love playing football in the mud. and they are good.

and melghat people play nothing. no gym. just a fine road twinging through forests. its great to run through there.

just say this phase of my life is the pg drought phase. am back onto the pavillion.

i miss bengal. its like when i am there i get pissed. and when i leave the place i miss it. too many people. people people everywhere. and it showers there any time of the year. if it doesn't shower it will leave sweat wet. i remember my 30 kms cycle ride from home to south city. on my way to the mall i was drenched because of the scorching sun. on my way back i got wet because of the rain.

prashant singh chants hanuman chalisa like anything. and i met a bucket head at world gym who works acting and counter acting muscles on the same day and dares to give tips to others. idiot.

the new theme song of world cup is good. 

a cheap lament

i, found a dog
on the streets
pry not if it was walked out on
or if buzzing was the lane with penny dimes
i, discovered a dog
on the streets
beg not if it was in the gloom or sunshine
i, found a dog
on the clammy nights of december
dousing its quilt
or you could call it in strident twilights of winter
harsh not because the winds were of unsympathetic manner
was warm enough the place where i used to corner
just that the senses were stirred enough to hanker
eager for warmth even in the sweltering weather

cause i discovered a dog
on the streets
when i was trying to sweat out the stoned ego of mine
when her texts just kept ringing an obsession so divine
o my holiness, every religion is a madness
every ring you hold in His holy name is a craziness
every living soul cowers from absurdities no matter what
strays never get deluded, only in humans you will find zealots
don't tell me you were never fascinated for another mortal being
how much your fascination laudable was is quite baffling
that makes me no sinner for sure, no offender no rabid
we are offenders of our judgments, needs no satan or cupid
mortals deem divinity in the stones, what if i inferred the same in you
and mine one despises me, scorns at all the delights i ever knew

and thats what makes me a dog on the street
an entity with all the faith withered
some nights i just glance at them and wonder
look at all the slurs i have garnered

with every moonshine i complete my rites
eye a picture of her infront of my tipsy glances
and i smile looking back at what the society said
ofcourse i still love her after all these bruises
they tell me i can never be blithe this way
i tell them they are tediously lewd
then they drum me wacky over my prose
i tell a stoned bliss ensues after this prelude
bliss in what even i not apprised of
cares who, care that i fell for the grace
my grace was the most astounding one
winsome sounds even her malignance

frankly there is a very little difference between obsession and being stubborn
serves no reasons except the fact that she is the most elegant one
if that serves an obsession then i very well deny to be normal again
if their dogmas serve me folly then that also be very well amen
go tutor your conjectures to your culture
falling for an ill witted acquaints no acuity either
no fool was ever called charity of love unless that was a woman
no bullhead was ever called beast of adversity unless that was a man
go tell your brother and your pals i ain't commit no crime by loving you
sinned were they who granted you an atrocious tie left to rue
held were you to fill me in about your lousy chum being finer than me
ain't no worthier than i for i wreaked no offense by adoring you beauty

and thats what makes me a dog on the street
with no note for my fervor turned bittersweet
after all these years you weigh me with an astray so cockeyed
i always adored you, still and always will, forever sanctified
doesn't matter if that makes me a street dog roaming in summer noon
oblivious of where to go or what to do sort of vagabond gone out of tune
go and tell them you chanced on a kid so obsessive
one lifetime will also be short for this obsession so votive


                                                                 
                                                                                                                                             12/12/14

filler

Net is slow. 2nd round results went in vain, searching for shift. Hopless hot summer. Exams r still scratchy. A bit better than last year. Missing a laptop. Aircel connection is hopless. Nights r quite turning sleepless again. And a hopless occasion to write a blog post. Gym remains closed ten times a year. Still wishing for a miracle. Yeah its better to call it a miracle only. One year of self isolation. Relatives fuck my head. Kolkata buses are a big mess. Get a window side seat and enjoy a long ride. My bicycle travels faster than buses here. Just the cycle handle should be shorter. Kinda like the movie Premium Rush. Still wonder how levit gordon did it without brakes, I can't imagine that. Dad forbided me to do so. Can't help, dad rides the same with his affected knee. Cycles don't agree with traffic rules. And my thighs are doing good. Lots of leg extensions. Just a wish to set free and take a try at pro body building. No bike. No alcohol. No gossips. Girls do gossips. This year ipl, Kkr okie okie, Dd and Mi just spoilt themselves. Punjab big turnover. And... Another trip to chandigarh day after tomorrow. And.............. 

It seems whimsical, yeah whimsical should be the word, taken from the movie Elizabeth Town, so its bit whimsical when someone all of a sudden turns up on your fb inbox - "I got to know about it from your blog.." Bit better compliment - "you got a knack of putting pen on the paper, don't stop it." And that tuned up the David Bowie song from Flashbacks Of A Fool, and my poetries were resurrected. Kinda more dangerous vocabulary. That was some years ago. Some people's every act ring an everlasting bell. The visits do indicate the possible people visiting blog, although annonymous. Its always good to see more visitors on posts without pics. No poetries as of now. Huckle buckle shift over shift fucking bullshiting mind grunging fucked up hearted shitting stories with shitful life events with hopless prayers gone wrong dangerously with hapless turnovers. I don't know whats going on. Loneliness does turn up the mind to write. But when writs go wrong, then comes the problem. So take my advice, always write with heart. Nothing will go wrong

Again study. Why can't it be a turnover like last year counselling damn it..

Restless heart. Yeah boy you are alive. But too much restlesness can be dangerous.

Want to give proper rest to my joints. Waist belts and knee guards have turned up. Am aging. Hopless again.

But I never had thought I will get sleepless nights again.

Too much heat outside 

Jaded December

A morning post, and I crave to scrawl;

with these jaded thoughts, I long to yodel it all.

My versing clouts citing molds

Owing to the bouts of subjection;

as my aesculapian tomes and assays,

look to butcher me for another duration.

For another juncture, I suffocate;

over some reasons I try to speculate.

As of what by now I might have been

had not divulged in trey spells preceding.

Another December folds in for another turnaround

I try to frame another writ as I sit around;

With these dearth of initiatives to write down

or maybe its hard for a jaded mind to bend around.

Perhaps a bottle of beer could have shaped up my habitat

or a glass of rum to swing a magic wand like it did three years back.

But with these folks so near, its formidable to run over wine

so I lay jaded in the city with grumpy musings of mine.

No doubt is different this bengal city,

buzzing with people and their ideas so artistry.

The culture of this place bore literary poets of the century;

and they said it isn't a poem unless you have a wild fantasy.

The city chirps and sings way too much,

Wearisome to feel for breeze whisper here as such.

So is hard the psithurism needed to sing the right verse.

Once in hamlets for days my hallowed rhymers plopped down,

epitomizing how paddy fields with cloudy winds swung around.

And here I hanker to scribble same, sitting in this sardined crosstown.

Although I walk through the city lanes as a stranger,

a walk through the crowdy turns and corners;

the vicinity always bothers me so not unreal,

makes me make a wish to walk so invisible.

The lambent lights tell there's a festival around the square,

always too much to clock here.

They spot me, try to find out reasons for my stare,

I beam at them, mean no tear.

The winters aren't that raw, nor are the summers that parch,

although am an alien around I am aware of their cultures.

It pours here a lot, maybe that's the reason

why people here find comfort on each others shoulders.

Be it the green esplanades, or the creek sides or the rivers,

always find lovebirds lightning up some ashes till they flounder.

As some glances of some pretty silhouettes,

some smiling, some at you, some for other rosettes;

some swivels of their shades beneath the dark thick curls

again remind me of the past someone special; 

And I sulk into another year wondering whats vain . 

as I bend to scribble, I discern I am jaded again.

But neither do the rightful days reflect ideas worthy to author, 

nor do you ever recall the nights you had a good slumber. 

As I dig to pen down the finishing lines,

I realize again the lack of fantasy of rimes.