The Big Q

The big Q is the scariest thing on planet earth. If not that, it's surely the most annoying, unnerving and puzzling thing that can happen to any mortal. The big Q can drive you mad, away from home, and into hell. It's often stronger than LSD and possess the power to disarm you when you're in complete fucking control. It takes the aid of words like WHY, HOW, WHAT - and conpires to dissolve human sanity. The big Q can come from anyone, the person you love and trust the most or from a complete stranger, and then like bad Boy Band song, it plays on repeat, right inside your head. Cunning, vile and powerful, that's what the Big Q is all about. Try and stay away from it, but know it and know it well - IT WILL GET YOU!

Write to impress

Don't people do just that? Conciously or sub-conciously? Well, that would be debatable. Ask my grandparents and they would sneer at you and look at you bewildered. They, however like every goddamn piece I write. My mom believes I am no less than Mark Twain. And as for my boss, Trilok, I would have done better if I were washing plates in chinatown. Well I say, you write coz you got to write. Get it out of the system. Never make an effort to write, let it flow, as lucidly as Nina Simone's voice. Write a song, write a line, write about stuff, stuff that interests you, attracts you, (girls like that), write a thing or two, maybe write about nothing, nothing at all. Write your heart out, for oft you'll know that nothing's quite as stimulating as pouring your heart out on a piece of paper. Flesh and blood to your thoughts, isn't that what writing is all about? Or is it simply playing with words, no that would be scrabble. Write your emotions down, your imaginations, bring it all out. And all you need is a piece of paper and pen. Not an expensive profession at all. So, whether you write to impress or not, just let it all out. And yes, a little appreciation never did no harm.

18th Feb, 2011 Part deux

18th Feb, 2011

19th Feb, 2011

Let's Design Poster

Morning

Junkie and Shutki

The 'life is like a box of chocolates' moment

It's been a while since I've written anything. It always is 'a while' before I write anything. Is it that life has stopped to interest me? Quite the contrary I would say. Then am I just a lackadaisical retard? Maybe. But then, I rather not discuss my idiosyncrasies. I rather talk about Anandi. Anandi is the youngest addition to the Banerjee-Sen family. She's about three months old and a sheer delight. Bappada(my aunt's husband) and Mimi (my aunt) had to wait a long time for the so called 'good news'. And good news it was. It was a Sunday morning and I was sleeping like a log after a Saturday drinking binge. I woke up groggy to answer the phone which had been ringing for god knows how long. Bappada announced the good news. I went back to sleep without much reaction or excitement. Then, suddenly it struck me. Like a jolt of thunder. I shook myself out of my slumber and called my mom immediately. They were delirious with joy. And I, as usual would miss all the action. What followed was complete mayhem. People from all corners would call up Mimi (a) to confirm the news and (b) to congratulate her. We weren't very far from the excitement either. It was spreading like an endemic. Mimi and I would have long and intellectual conversations about what to name her. From Subarnalata to Champakali, people were relentless in choosing tacky names. Especially my grandmom. But then, Mimi came up with a gem, Anandi - it's sweet, elegant, sexy and catchy. She nailed it and I consented. We were hell bent on Anandi (the name) and Anandi it was. Though we are quite sure she'll grow up to be Andy, thanks to the Anglo-Saxon culture that has inflicted our society, for us she'll always be Anandi, the happiness we were so long alien to. In fact, post Dadu's set back both the families had been struggling for a fragment of joy. Life had become a routine encouter. Anandi didn't just rejuvenate us; she was the source who got us back on the street, alive and kicking. She breathed life into us. All of us.

Westside Radiospot

Trilokda