The Prison

Prisons have almost always been successful in creating a fear within us- be it the school going child, the courageous soldier or the veteran doctor. Prisons necessarily imply the deadly absence of freedom. Such was not the case with Trina. The prison was a lively place where she enjoyed her freedom in her way.

She loved being within the prison cell, locked up. It was surely dark and cut off from the rest of the world. Yet she enjoyed a solace to be secured from the evils of the outside sphere. The cell in fact made her feel warm and protected. She felt at home. She had a regular supply of meals - though mostly tasteless and bland, but it kept her satisfied.

This cell is different. Mornings were musical. A soft light spies in as music starts filling the room. It no more feels as dark. She smells happiness all around. Someone outside this prison plays some heart-melting music early every morning, letting the rays of the tune seep in.

With daybreak, as she tries to digest her breakfast, her body craves for a swim. She is allowed this luxury. A simple way to keep fit. She pours her heart out to the faint beam of light that brightens her day as she swims to her heart's glory till it gets dark again. Bedtime it is. She feels warm, healthy, happy and content as she sleeps in peace. It is the most secure place of her's.

The only punishment here is not being allowed to venture out. She cared a damn.

Little did she know how the meanings of words change outside this cell. Prisons would no more connote the same homely dark place which protects. It would mean to scare her as the elders assign 'their' meanings of the word to teach her the same.

She knew she would have to leave this cosy cell once she was nine months.

 

It hurts

"Have mercy", she wailed. "It hurts"! The salt got pinched yet again.

It's interesting how people blog about a blogger's block but reading such blogs on blocks probably motivated me to take an attempt at outlining a post after ages in order to overcome my block. I thank the bloggers who were able to blog on their blocks!

Shoytaner Jhaad

Chhatim er ingriji ki? I often wonder! Dekhlam Chhatim ke onekshomoy "scholar's tree"  bola hoy. taar karon ei gachh porar desk, lekhar slate ityadi banate byabohar hoy. Tobe bohul procholito je naam, ta besh odbhut - Devil's Tree. Rashtrobhashay jake naki bole Shaytan- ka-jhad ! Bhishon obak holam... omon matal kora gondho je gachher taar naam Devil's tree? amar chhotobelay chhatim phuler gondho ami shebhabe chintam na... boltam "Sohini" gaaner school er shamner gondho! Bohudin obdhi kauke bojhate parini thik kon gondhotar kotha bolte chaichhi. Bari pherar pothe ekta jaygatay "Sohini" bole ekta gaaner school er board lagano thakto seta kheyal korechhilam, aar kheyal chhilo je thik oi jaygata perolei mon-matano ekta gondhe obosh hoye ashe snayu... Gondhota ato teebro jano ghum kere nite pare othocho atoi mishti je ghum parani gaan o haar manbe. kothay jano ekta nesha lagay! Ei heno ekta gachher eheno naam - kirokom jano!

Aaro khNujlam- janlam er onek "gunaboli" r modhye ekta naki malaria sharano. Eo to galo goon. Tahole naamta? KhNoja chalu roilo.. Keu janle janio!

barely a post

Words like almost, nearly, hardly, apparently have almost always fascinated me! Ambiguity and uncertainty in life nearly kills me though! I hardly understand why this enthrallment. Apparently the tinge of vagueness and non-fulfillment does the trick!

She turned in her bed as the morning rays shone on her puffed-up eyes! She pulled the blanket to cover her ears to relish the warmth. It was windy. Bending at her knees she clutched on to the pillow pulling it close enough making her securely comforted. She didn't want him. She wanted to be with the man she wanted him to be at the moment - a man who he almost was. But with the golden drops of the sun, beneath the cuddle of the blanket she wanted him only with a dash of seasoning on, to make the perfect sundae ever!

She never wanted him perfect! Wanted to indulge her taste buds to savour the mouth-watering taste of building and re-building her man again and again with her own brush, painting and re-constructing him every moment! Winter mornings made her paint him in bright shades of Gold while lazy Sundays urged her to colour him in hues of Olive! Oh, how she loved the neutral shade he was in her mind, waiting for her brush to smear rainbow flakes and play with the man she craved for! Happens to all, does it?

Mourning

A day back he lost his beloved! Through thick and thin, rain and shine she was with him for the last 12 years . Never betraying him, never nagging for a favour back in return. She was with him from the morning cups of tea to the after-dinner strolls in the balcony. She knew his secrets- the darkest to the silliest, often peeping in to the most private corners of his life. Lusty obsession she had become for him with time. A shoulder to lean on, she held his hand to light the first flicker of joy on days of merriment! Success seemed incomplete even with all the pats on his back, without pulling her close, to sink into the warmth of his awaiting lips. Challenges seemed tamed when she was by him. He knew she would leave but hoped against hope for the day to never come. Loneliness crept in the moment she left him for good. Seems unbelievable to not have her fragrance enveloping him through the days and nights, cuddling him in a smoky sheet of affection. True it is... She is no more there for him..gone forever.. his beloved bud of smoke, saving his life allowing him to cherish her memories healthily through the rest of his life!