The Apartment

And most of the people who read this title will know what I'm referring to. But then again, most won't. I hardly ever write an account of my life, knowing full well how boring it may sound to my ardent readers. A blog is hardly a teenage girl's apathetic diary, but then again how can I let this be?


The Apartment will forever be remembered as that one room where happiness collided in the form of happy, carefree minds. Where free spirits accumulated, where we laughed and cried and hugged and tried...tried SO hard to forget the real world behind. Where the existence of our being (although questioned a hundred times) was content to a point beyond measure.


We didn't have to try too much; when we met, there was a radiant beauty in the splashing raindrops, a flicker of light in the starless sky. Nothing mattered when we met, not the studies nor the work, not the raging competition nor the weighing responsibilities. When we met, we left the world a thousand miles behind and we raced ahead to catch up with our thoughts, shutting ourselves from the harsh reality.

And we thought of music, and films, and we talked of books and famous men, of the philosophies upholding life; of great ambitions and dreams and of life-changing decisions. And when we grew tired of all the work, we sang.

"If we should die tonight, then we should all die together."

The fire in the hearth burned brighter. The warmth in our hearts radiated to one another. What are we without these moments? What are we without each other?

Ten years down the line, when we look back at college what will we think of? Life throws problems at us which are the size of boulders. And when we are sad and down, what will we think of? Will our thoughts ever go back to this one Apartment? Will we ever find our way home?

We will grow. We will rise and reach great heights. But happiness cannot be found in someone else's heaven. We will fall. We will reach the abyss of darkness that will consume us. Hell is just beneath our tender feet. What of Earth? Will we never meet again, on this fresh green patch of merry land we call home?

I know we will. We will soar like eagles and become independent. But someday, when we look out at the city lights and the silent sea, we will remember the time when we met at The Apartment. And this beautiful thought will smell of old books and comfy sofas, incessant laughs and adorable hugs, but most of all, it will smell of you and me and all the little moments that 'created infinities'.

And in between these pauses, between your words and mine, we will find our Paradise.

                        

Fanciful Lie

Poetry which happens when you get a fleeting thought, and weighs on your mind until you formulate it into words. 


God rolled a seven sided die,
Then thousand snowflakes
in the sky;
Came down to rest here.

A flaming torch, a burning temper
Heralded a rather
unusual September;
He reached out to touch her.

She hadn't met him, she only thought,
Of all the temptations his
memory brought
She was waiting in silence.

Then she felt, his warm blue sweater,
Read his invisible
romantic letter
Spread her wings  to reach out.

Their fingers touched, and very soon
Her tear drops dripped
From a lunate moon,
Her happiness outraged her.

Love was the smell, of vintage wine
Of stale cigarettes, of
fresh green pine
But mostly, his breath engulfed her.

She watched him dance out of sight
Every single time, every
Glistening night
She knew then she loved him.

He spoke a little, he spoke a lot
Every second he spoke
he taught
Of loves and lives and fairy tales
Of legendary races and holy grails
And she fell into the abyss
Of a new found potion called
Love.

It was but... a fanciful lie.

Touching Fame

A few days back, I ran into some amazing luck. Long story cut short, I got to see the cast of The Amazing Spiderman at a red carpet event. And needless to say, I took away something from that event (NO, I do not mean a selfie; it never got that far T.T)

 Most people are simply 'fans' and a smaller fraction of people are actually a little more than fans, they are worshipers. In that crowd of children and adults who were dying to catch one glimpse of the cast, I guess less than 50% of them were real Marvel Fans (Stat Source: My Brain). The rest were there for the fun.

I've read a load of Marvel Comics and it's pretty obvious that a Marvel fan would rather empty his pockets and head over to Comic Con and not to a Red Carpet event; unless he really wanted free merchandise. Which kind of brings me to what I really wanted to say - I wasn't there as a Marvel fan. This was the second time in my life I would get the chance to see internationally acclaimed artists up close. I didn't want to miss this chance. AND it was Andrew Garfield and Emma Stone. The movie buff inside of me just did a somersault!

The Chaos that was my Eyeball.

                       

There is something about seeing your favorite icons in real life. It kind of propels the breath out of your lungs. You're in absolute awe. HOW... just HOW can someone be so amazing on screen as well as in real life? It's downright impossible. Those people must be Gods.It's not about the wealth or the glamour. It's not about the looks or the clothes or any other materialistic aspect. It's about the sheer brilliance of their talent. The mere fact that we see these people on the silver screen, chosen out of a million others for that one role, and being absolutely fabulous at it. And then all of a sudden, they are in front of you, like just another ordinary human but absolutely extraordinary in every way. And you are gazing at them, jaw dropping, shaking, completely and utterly breath-taken by the enormity of the situation.

Truly larger than life. In that moment, everything else is indistinguishable. These people aren't just themselves. They symbolize an image of success which is bigger than any achievement you have ever achieved till now. They give a solid shape to Fame herself, and Fame is not just any glamorous girl. Fame can trick you, make you delusional and gullible; Fame can unearth you from the responsibilities you undertook when you set out to achieve her. But then again Fame can uplift you, she can make your soul take wing and fly,  she can and she will make sure you are the brightest star in the dark sky which is imprinted with so many other stars.

You believe you can FLY!

                   

And here you are, just minutes away from touching someone who is Famous. Everyone wants Fame, and with one touch and one wrong move, many people obtain her. Some carry her with pride, and some go down with her into the shadows. Some gain her with merit, some steal her. It's contagious, this longing for Fame. Those who seek only Fame thrive under the gaze of six billion people everyday. Whereas those who become Famous unexpectedly, often grow to hate this gaze.


I spent those few minutes at the very feet of Fame and every heart string inside of me wanted to be famous. To have the whole world die to see you!The magnanimity of the situation did not help me think. I did what any normal fan would do; I screamed and yelled and wanted to immortalize that moment forever. It's only later that I realized the causes and implications of Fame.


                                

These people, had worked hard for their whole life to reach where they are now. Fame is attainable, but the process isn't a bed of roses. It's the presence of unique talent that drives you to such a high level in life. If these people were not especially talented, they'd never be at that Red Carpet event. We would never know them. Every famous person must have broken through in some way, whatever way that may have been. Every famous person must have made some sacrifice to reach this status in life. And we as admirers often overlook this process and only appreciate the result.

Once the euphoria of the moment had died away, and I had reached back home, I realized one important thing. That humble bed, that messy desk, those untidy drawers...these tired hands. They were all mine in a way that Fame would never be. Fame would be borrowed and shared and juggled. But these normal pleasures in life; old books on shelves, making maggi after midnight and watching movies in pajamas. These moments won't be private anymore; and I wouldn't trade these priceless moments for anything in the world.

Beyond the ceiling of this tiny room, and up above lies the colossal weight of the future. Who knows if that may carry a hint of Fame? Till then, I'll be content with a cup of chocolate and a bag of marshmallows. To be famous is not in my hands, I'm just glad I got to be near it.

Ambivalence

Poetry.

After About a Millennium; all thanks to Inspiration being few and far between. 

                       

Ambivalence

Long black boots,

drenched in the rain.

The sudden shower;

the warm mist rose

from the pavement.

Inhaling the rainfall,

the sweet smell;

the fumes from the 

Coffee Shop. 

Notebook bound in

rich crimson velvet,

Ink deep in thoughts

Darkening towers

of rising indecision.

You eyed the Wine;

I doted on Earl Grey

But the Coffee Shop

Never raced by. 

I've never been so

inconclusively pensive; 

while you narrate stories 

of your loves and hates;

your glorified debates;

surrounded by the

talks of ancient marines;

the discordant humming

of the pretty Barista.

Love isn't a complete 

Stranger; and many a boy

has charmed and gone;

Good men haven't stayed.

I'd love to love; but

the strangely inconsistent

quiet ambivalence

of my stormy mind

floods the path I tread.

The rain fogs up the

windows; the Coffee 

Shop lights up in evening

colours; this may never

stay the same.

Days will pass by;

the stream of letters

will run eternally dry;

Calls will be missed. 

Black boots; now dry

A little warm from the

fire within; a little warm

from the lingering touch 

of your hand. 

Notebooks close; we rise

to go; the sparkling rain

hasn't ceased a bit.

We never needed umbrellas. 

Note:  Picture taken from DeviantArt by Artist Proxile. A beautiful rendition of Summer Rain in Moscow. :)

Oh Lorien!

So......for the Middle-Earth illiterate (and non-fantasy lovers); this new backdrop will not ring a bell. In fact, it's surprising how even those who have followed each and every word that Tolkien ever wrote, sometimes fail to recognize this place:

Lothlorien -The Land of Golden Sunshine

                                         

This magical, beautiful place is the home of Silvan elves. The golden, crispy blend of reds and oranges that form this fantastical, yet strangely realistic notion of home. Lothlorien, the loveliest of the lovely Elven kingdoms. 

Though not technically a kingdom with a dynasty, and not at all close to a kingdom with a history of war;  Lothlorien is the golden abode of the most tranquil creatures. It's almost like heaven, with sunshine tilting in abundance from the skies and starlight flooding in at night. The poem about Amroth said:

Of Old He was an Elven-King,
A lord of tree and glen,
When golden were the boughs in spring,
In fair Lothlorien. 

Lothlorien: The Land of Silver Moonlight

There is of course, a deeper reason in my choice of this wallpaper. The coming of spring, the season of flowers; the season when sweetness courses through the air like flower petals on a breeze. When the colours ripen around you and nature assembles to celebrate the blossoming of many precious buds; many special moments. The golden wealth of nature. The wealth of Lothlorien, the Valley of Singing Gold, the land Treebeard called 'Dreamflower'.  

Lothlorien is the land of dreams and of course, my personal favorite. While I have pictured the ravishing landscapes of Narnia, Rivendell, the Shire and Oz, there is no place which captures my fancy as much as Lorien. The intelligent will mock me and call this a figment of my overexcited imagination. Lothlorien is but fictional!

The truth is we all know that the creation of fictional places have a root in reality. Lothlorien is not just an ethereal 'place'; nor is it modeled after a glorious county in Great Britain. 

Lothlorien is a state of mind. 

It's an equivalent of heaven and peace. This is the treasured home of the gorgeous Galadriel and her consort Celeborn. These images, these creatures are but the reflection of a serenity that we all turn to when we are in pain or suffering. The reason I adore Lorien is because when I'm down, this place materializes in my head and gives me a sense of security. It's my personal chamber of secrets. And it comes with a triumphant sort of healing quality. 

Okay, and so before I launch into a philosophical 'discourse' on the state of mind, I shall, but naturally, STOP. There's a lot to know about Lothlorien; it's a side of Middle-Earth which will dazzle you to bits and you will yet never know all of it. 

It's only fit to end with this link; the instrumental version of Enya's composition 'Lothlorien'. This beautiful piece of music speaks for itself :) Enjoy!

Head in the Clouds

Fifteen. 

What a raw, beautiful age in life. The age when most girls start turning into women; start falling in love and start unearthing ambitions.I did all of that; and a little more. I had never known the harsh reality of life until I was fifteen. It came like a whirlwind and it blew away all the bliss that had accumulated like a cloud above my head.

                                     

Those days of unparalleled happiness when I excluded myself from all social activities by camping in the library. Those days of living in Middle-Earth and Hogwarts. Basically those days when attachments did not mean anything to me. Just those bonds with close family and friends; people you could absolutely trust. There was nothing to fear, no one to hate, because it was all so pure. I had the beautiful ambition of becoming an archaeologist and then some day pen down my thoughts and become a famous writer.

What really happens to childhood dreams anyway? I think they get locked up in a treasure chest, never to be opened again. You sail away from them, like a ship drifting away from an island. Your castles crash down from the clouds. Your mountain of happiness has landslides of misery. 

And then some where, some how, a draught of reality flies in. You're forced to grow up and face the cruel world at such a young age. It's true, you have nothing to lose; no career, no social contacts, no property. You just lose one precious thing - you lose yourself. And you do that so helplessly, while the entire world nods in sympathy.

You're forced to stop living with dreams, and to live with people. Actual people, who are so unpredictable and imperfect unlike your friends inside your head. All your preconceived notions about people start to melt like wax. You fall in love with some people, who mirror the characters in your brain. And these people are inducted into your Mind Palace forever. Then again you meet people, who aren't pleasant, who have lived luxurious lives and are spoilt to a massive degree and people who lie and backstab and betray. And you are forced to hate them, an emotion you weren't capable of, because for some reason even the villains in your dreamworld were so prefect, that you could not help but admire their ruthlessness. 

And you're caught in a dilemma. Should I attach myself to real, solid people or should I be alone? Man is a social animal they say, but I have met people who have lived alone for all their lives and they are still content. Hermits have peaceful lives. Attachment and love, is to your work. Is to your family. And to your friends. Yet, it is not attachment if you don't feel the acute pain when you are separated from them. Pain is not really the best of all feelings; so why attach yourself?

You move in this circle of questions, swirling like smoke inside of your head. You don't know how to console yourself if anything were to happen to your attachments. Work ends when you become utterly incapable and people simply die or leave. What really remains except words? Words inside of your head; words that knit together to form sentences and sentences that pile up in patterns to form stories? If all the toil and attachments in life were to amount to dreams then why did we leave the dream world in the first place?

Questions, and questions about the purpose of life. The end result is nothing but questions. Maybe those who are really lucky, get answers. And those who aren't are simply whisked off to heaven and the moment they land there, they know. They just know.  

I See Fire

Seriously, what is it with me and song lyric captions? :P I don't know I just find it incredibly cool (along with the advertisement I'm doing for free) and how can you NOT like Ed Sheeran.

Anyways, HI there to all my readers. This is probably the longest vacation I have taken from writing anything substantial in my blog. The sad news is that there are loads of posts lined up in my drafts but I NEVER FINISH WRITING THEM.

I don't really call this Writer's Block, I think a better term for it would be "Stuck in the Mind Palace." A casual definition of Mind Palace in my own words:

 A secret place in your head, where everything and everyone is mind-blowing and somehow comprise of an array of characters you wouldn't really interact with normally. Also, this place is really different from one mind to another, so like your Mind Palace could be inside a treasure chest at the end of a Rainbow for all I care. Or an underground Mafia mansion. So, you know, it's damn cool. 


So technically, this is not a post. It's a form of conversation with my readers about basically "what has been up." And without any further delay, let me brush through everything that's going on.

The first thing, is keeping busy. Keeping so busy that I'm actually not getting the time to breathe. There's a lot of work, including studies and internship and there is suddenly too much to learn. I've recently caught the Web-programming bug and to think, I'll be learning more that 4-5 languages by the end of this semester! It's an amazing thought; because you should know that I kind of suck at any linguistic feat. I once had this deal with <insert part of brain that is concerned> that I will learn Chinese in six months.

........ Need I say it didn't work out?



I'm also keeping my fingers crossed for a Script writing course that NUS is holding from next week. If I can get into this, it will be great, because FINALLY some experience in Theater. I mean, with an Uncle who is pretty much almost a veteran in Bengali Theater (mind you, Bengalis are REALLY proud of their Literary and Cultural Heritage and yes I am bragging) it's kind of sad my exposure to Theater has been so tiny.


I've been watching a lot of movies lately, in my free time. Some new ones, some old ones. I just keep my eyes engaged for as long as I'm not sleeping. So there was Disney's FREAKING-AWESOME movie Frozen, and for all of you who thinks its not good, you can disappear in a puff of smoke. "Let it Go" is currently my anthem and if anybody cares to listen, I can sing "Do you want to build a snowman?" at the top of my lungs.

Oh and then I watched HER. Despite the whole of Twitter going crazy on the praises; and despite the amazing screenplay, the script and the direction - boy, was this disturbing. I mean, kudos to the actors (I love Amy Adams) for the splendid job! My favorite part of the movie is when the hero, basking in the eve of his early forties (?), talks about how he has felt everything in this world. He has felt such an extremity of emotions, that whatever he will feel after this will be simply a fraction of what he has already felt. Oh, and the other most amazing aspect of the film, towards the end when the (umm...) heroine says, that the end of their love story is drawing near. She compares the episode to a book, which she is trying to read as slowly as possible, so slowly in fact that the spaces in between the words are becoming infinite.

Such. a. beautiful. script. I think the last time I remember watching a movie whose script I LOVED was Juno. And that was so long back.

Okay, so what no one knows till now is that I'm writing this post during lecture. Now, you must not get me wrong. As much as I love my course, I have the attention span of a cat. Before you know it, I'm done and bored.

SO, this brings me back to the last event I think I should include in my post. THE MUSIC. It's been a good month, with a lot of lovely music floating in from all corners. No not just the club favorites like Timber or Wake me Up or seriously any other electronic music. I mean like actual soulful tracks.

"I See Fire" really appealed to the Middle-Earth inside my heart. THE LYRICS. THE MUSIC. The only other version of this I think needs some applause is Peter Hollens' cover of this track from Desolation of Smaug. I never thought there would come a day when ALL my favorite people (Tolkien, Sheeran, Freeman, Cumberbatch, Mckellan, Bloom) would come together. It makes me want to weep in joy. *Takes out handkerchief* *sob*

I also discovered the Glee version of Defying Gravity (Broadway's signature track from Wicked) and this played on repeat for a week. Along with Let it Go and Brave, these three tracks have the strength to lift you up from the deepest and blackest depths of darkness. And that's enough metaphors for today.

Which reminds me, John Green's The Fault in our Stars is heading for the Theater and I'm full of major anticipation here. There's so much reflection in his works. Everyone, please read Looking for Alaska. I'm currently reading The Book Thief. These books are really metaphors in themselves.

This really brings me to the end of the blog post (once I start, I can never stop); and for all of you still wondering why I See Fire is the caption, the truth is I don't really know. It was the first thing that came to my mind; and there's nothing bad about a little bit of Tolkien in our lives, is there?

Hope this semester continues amazingly, and I'm being unnaturally optimistic when I say - it can only get better. :D Until the next blog post everyone!