Passionate Creativity in Dreams

Dear Friends, welcome back to the revamped blog. I will try to focus to be regular up on my blog now onwards. We can chat here, talk all the bullshit we are full of; right here. Apparantly, it pays.(I heard there is something called Google Adsense). Moreover, better than making Office ‘Junk’ reports.  The picture attached represents a Service Engineer. I am sure all of you agree that an already burning candle, trying to torch up its own ass for the sake of the community, to enlighten the darkness of a moonless night, is the picture perfect example of what my Job is like. It also shows that I still have some sense of humour left. And it’s wicked. I can call me Deputy manager- Field Service. I can also call me Vice President- Field Service, Kolkata territory. Or maybe I can take it a step ahead to call it- Chairman, Kolkata Field service Engineering solutions. Whatever I call it, the fact remains the same. I am one damn stinkin’ service Engine...

It happened a few days back. I was 15 minutes late to office. And in my standards, 15 minutes late is equal to 15 minutes since the super boss has arrived, and now the attendance register is in his room. So you got to enter his fortress in his observation, and sign the attendance register as he passes some sarcasm and a note, maybe. Moral of the story: Leave the taxi back in Jam, run like a horse, and reach the office sweating, possibly thinking excuses what made you late today to reach the office. Traffic Jam has nowadays become a cliché and is rarely accepted. I left the taxi 1 km away from Beckbagan and decided to speed up through walking. I took an unknown path to reach the office. I was rushing, cursing and sweating. Given a chance, my immediate boss would love to feed me to super boss, provided he was a cannibal. I suddenly stomped on a pile of cow dung. It was fresh cow dung. Soft like tart, warm like curry. (I really suck in explaining si...

February 21st 2010.....Krishna Temple......A loner pays the Almighty Lord ‘Shri-Krishna’ a visit....for the five prominent reasons: 1. Its long time he has got to sit in a serene, calm environ. 2. He believes he has turned an atheist and his relationships with god are at a verge of a break up. 3. He is damn frustrated with his job. 4. Nothing great to do this ‘Sunday’. Who else to bore? Let’s try God; he thought. 5. He wants to give some time to himself for thinking. 1300 Hrs.....the temple is really empty.....There sits a round bellied half-nude man counting all the coins that were gathered in the morning Puja.......there is a sick old lady.chanting beads....2 young kids playing around the Main Building.....It’s a small nice institution...with colour shades of brown, orange and Grey....with some flower plantations around the temple; and a load of plucked flowers in front of; yes ‘God’! Sorry forgot to mention him at the first place. It’s his place, and that explains why everyt...

A fresh poetry I wrote few nights Back....perhaps vindicates my affections to the moon.....Well, I am crazy, and you all know that!! That's what is romance, Morons!! Enjoy..... Kabhi yoon bhi sard si raaton mein, main Chaand se Baatein karta hoon...... Jo baat koi samjha naa sake, main usse poochha karta hoon...... Kucch pyaar ki baatein hoti hain, takraar ki baatein hoti hain..... Kucch teri khabar wo deta hai, Do chaar to baatein hoti hain....... Teri Khidki mein kabhi kabhi, wo jhaankta hai meri khaatir, Aur fir shaayad madhoshi mein, wo agli raat nahiin aata.... Wo bhi aashiq tera shaayad, saari baatein batlaata nahiin, Jab teri baat chhupaata hai, bas Ghatta Badhta rehta hai..... Ek roz mahine mein aakar, wo sab baatein batlaata hai.... Us roz chaandni hoti hai, Har taraf ujaala hota hai........ Main khaamoshi se suntaa hoon, wo chamak chamak ke kehta hai.... Aur jab Main in kisson mein khokar neend ki god mein so jaaun, Tum sapne mein mere aati ho, Aur bilkul chaand si Dikhti...

My hearty greetings to the readers of the blog!! As the day sets in, leaving behind an entire year 2009, with its good and bad memories intact; we see a new morning of 2010, bringing a set of new hopes to believe in and new commitments to fulfil. Welcoming we humans, the clock is reset for a new year.(Well, I still don’t believe even dolphins or any creature gives a damn about new year celebrations. But, then I guess, being a human, I must support our cause; and party). Basically, congratulations!! I just woke up, and sunlight entering my room through the curtain pores (and through all the fireworks dust of last night and that further torn stratosphere), sat beside me, and asked me to write. And I asked it, why now?? It said, “It’s a new year Idiot! Act human, say grace, offer prayers, make a wish or a resolution and go out and mingle. Go do your regular acts, send new year messages, buy beer, call old lost ones, order chicken and for god’s sake clean your room. It’s a mess! Welcome th...

Hi! Back to my note making philosophy.......decently called as a blog!! Today i am going to simply bullshit about anything that comes to my mind. Please bear with me!! What exactly is it......the confessions of a wannabe to reflect the world how hard he is trying to reach the level where he will be declared an “achiever”. But the act is still the same, and he continues to be one of the million wannabes. Now if that’s not a joke, let’s take it seriously!! Let’s try to write something “Different”. I am no different. Whatever I do, I find myself doing it the same way many others have already done. The very idea about an uncommon idea is that, is should be one of its kind. But as the population increases, the probability of seeking the rare diminishes. And that’s how neatly I can blame others for responsibly killing my originality. I think that won’t be fair. I tried Business. Energia. I thought it was rare. To professionally design business proposals and sell it in business plan symposium...

The age-long longing for this poetry has finally ended. I heard this first time somewhere in some Kavi-Goshthi. I was in Class 10 th or 11 th then, I don’t exactly remember. The words were well beyond my understanding; the meaning was well beyond my scope. I was yet to experience the feel that is required to understand these wordings. I was yet to be exposed to the beauty of Hindi Literature. Although I have read all of Premchand Sahitya, Sharat Chandra, Ishwar Chandar, Devkinandan Khatri’s creations, but they all appear to me as they were meant to be told as tales, say, stories. Only poetry can speak the language of the heart. It does not narrate, it talks to the reader; it sings. Here every character can be replaced; every incident can be suitable matched to something personally relevant. Every feeling here is wired to the readers personal emotions. There continued paragraph here is say, 40 years old ; and is Written by Mahadevi Verma ages back. He writes his heart out questi...