ummm....
just not feeling good...

bits on Shobha De- Frank Capra...(no relation there:P)

I feel like being indulgent today..
Indulging myself in writing incessantly-unbothered and just khamakha. (Okay..i like the feel of the post after having published it, otherwise it looks like succha tedious task penning down thoughts these days,lol):P)
All thanks to this new book I started reading by Shobha De-her autobiography- Selective Memory. This is the first book am reading written by her and strange enough I have a feeling that she is going to be one of my favourite authors in the times to come. Bought this book to gift my senior date( I gotta girl as my date :-/) Its just a tradition in our college to allot a junior a senior date who has to be gifted something he/she loves. Fortunately or unfortunately she wanted to read another book and I ended up reading this one:D
Just the other day I was discussing with a friend how I cant seem to be able to write anymore .How much ever I try writing on serious and more imp topics –end up scribbling about random thoughts and thts what can do with sincere dedication.
Coming back to her autobiography- its disturbing, its all nostalgia..and bitterly sweet(am only on the 32nd page)

Brought up in a typical Bengali family ambience. Surrounded by people who are affectionate, restricted, and of so-called conservative mindset, she fondly recalls many moments from her humble modest beginnings. From the long summer and acrid aftertaste of ripe ,juicy ,glossy jamuns-to her memories of stretching her body over her mother who was relaxing and simultaneously looking for (as the author recalls -)“obstinate remnants of grime that hadn’t been scrubbed away during bathtime” from the little girl’s nostrils and ears, to the day of her glory when she won accolades as an athlete in her school days. I could sense a deep bonding with her baba whose dos n donts shaped her life in different shades and marked turning points in her life.

Her simple narrative n descriptive style of jotting down fragments of her childhood is just so honest, sincere and straight from the heart.
Bits from the book- (while writing this I tried to recreate those heady years when I’d hear one section of the stadium chanting Sho-bha, Sho-bha, as I laced my spikes, crouched at the starting blocks and waited to take off at the sharp sound of the starters pistol shot.I can visualize it all with complete detachment like an old movie starring someone familiar.Its hard to think of that person as a young me. I am unable to get under her skin or identify with her glory. Ironically enough, my entire collection (an impressive one) of silver cups was stolen sometimes in the seventies. Nobody knows what happned to the steel trunk in which they had been stored…”) well.seems would make for a godo reading overallJ



Okay…There also is a screwball comedy movie I watched recently. “It Happened One Night”(1934)
The orginal version of bolly Dil Hai ki manta nahi.(I have’t watched the latter yet)

Elements of romance, adolescent rebelliousness, adventure, comedy… in one word the movie was absolutely charming.
Made in the black and white movie making era, it starred the pretty “Claudette Colbert” and some Jameson Thomas (man with the soothing onscreen presence). Must mention that the movie directed by Frank Capra won the top five Academy Awards.

The girl who was the daughter of the millionaire trying to break away from the shackles of a royal pampered upbringing.. elopes to meet her husband from Miami( marriage just for the heck of I as we understand) to New York and eventually on her way falls in love with this reporter whom she meets in a bus journey, who followed her to write a story on the interesting aspect of her life at the moment.
She unknowlingly..reluctantly falls in love with this charming, slightly bossy, caring young man (a script repeated so often these days) The romance unfolds as they spend days together, the girl cherishing her new found freedom , staying alone under a roof for the first time with a man- “stranger but trustworthy”, the boy taking care of her like she was a child to him, reprimanding her for her spoilt –bratish attitude, covering her with his jacket as she went off to sleep under the open night sky on a bed of straws , giving her his clothes, preparing breakfast for her…small little things that urged the simple girl in her to be with him for a lifetime, be with him on the imaginative dream Island he had built..

The story ends after a series of misunderstandings and realizations that eventually bring the two of them together, teasing me wanting to see them together on screen after they both realize their love for the other one- instead the movie ends by showing a curtain
falling on ground (that had all this while marked a separation between the two in one single hotel room where they had to put up) with sound of the trumpet in the background hailing the triumph of the crazy mad love!

Something...

The breeze feels rather dull.. clouds motionless, and those chirping of the birds lifeless..
When its an emptiness you find in you most of the times..
Probably that’s bound to happen with time….days wont be rosy each day u wake up from your bed, things around to haunt you and illusions to clutter your world…. At a point like this..its great to fall back upon those simple joys of life that keep you preoccupied, keep the haunting feeling aside … like.. a quality time with family, unwinding with a longtalk with a friend, or embarking upon a new journey..like closing a chapter of life and opening another. You don’t know if its good or bad..but its different, its new and fresh and that’s the charm of it all I guess…
It happens with me everytime…. a fear, a trepidation, an uncertainity …with the change of time. But this time its greater somehow..probably growing up and few harsh reality checks in the past have resulted in this clueless growing uncomfort.
For all I know, I ll be a little aloof for a while, a little lost.. angry and cribbing may be…
I miss the times I spent for my undergraduate studies in hostel…and now when its time to enter the postgraduate phase of my life, I fondly reminisce those … late night chais, banging each others doors at any point of time,friends coaxing you to try one sutta of cigarette, sharing the innocent fears of the future to be, PNPCs (poro ninda poro chorcha aka bitching), waiting for our Mr rights and often discarding the very idea of falling for any relationship atall…
Always having rushed to look forward to something little more worthwhile ahead, it’s a little late I realized the joy was in those simple pleasures…

I Welcome myself to the real world anyways..!!!

Current Song humming- Jaane kitne dino kebaad gali mein aaj chaand nikla...

The movie am craving to watch- Cheeni Kum..

Thing am craving to do- Shoppingggg

spot blog blog spot post

Some passions need conscious efforts॥for them to continue and live..like writing...
Considering the fact that blogger.com as a webblog is much more user (read "blogger") friendly, here I am, with a new blog URL..shifted from http://titzbitz.rediffblogs.com/ (do i hear change is the rule of nature:P)
Random thoughts, cribbings...it will be the same ofcourse added with instances of my life I would love to share whenever time and mood allows... Collection from online image resources gave way to the the header picture in this blog processed in Adobe..thanks to Pranshu too who helped the tech challenged me in giving the final touches ;)..just wanted this to be a normal interface enough for posting n checkin comments actually.

Writer's block...a stupid term..wish i had never learnt that phrase in the first place and continued blogging...and preserving memories and snapshots from my life..Thanks to each and everyone of you who never failed to view my blog no matter updated or not , that was the sweetest gesture i received from my people:)Sorry for the long delay:)
In the next post am just updating few lines I had jotted down around a month ago..and yeah its in devnagri script..guess i would never again update anything in devnagri script considering the fact that i wasnt happy editing it...it was a tedious task soemhow n consumed a lot of time:-S but k..if am pretty vella..wil think about it;)
There r a lot of spelling errors ,some i was lazy enough not to edit..kindly excuse :) Also I couldn't think of a title, what would you name it..?

The poem am talkin about is right below...plz do scroll downn..

किताबो में सिमटी हुई थी
जब अचानक हलके से कंधो को थपथपाया किसीने
पीछे मुड़ के देखा तो
देखा वक़्त मुस्कुरा रहा था
दस्तक सा देकर ज़रा कुछ देर के लिए पीछे बुला रहा था


उंगलिया पकड़ के थमा दी माँ की उगलियों में मेरी
छुडा के जिसे दौड़ रही थी घर के आंगन में हमारी
माँ के एक हाथ मे लंबी छड़ी थी,
दुसरे मे खाने का निवाला जिसे छोड़
निडर बावरी जैसी भागे जा रही थी

वक़्त ने फिर खीच लिया
उस कमरे मे मुझे
जहां हाथों मे अखबार लिए पापा चाय की sip ले रहे थे
जब लिपट कर चहरे से उनके, खिलखिला रही थी महसूस कर रूखे रूखे दाढ़ी को उनकी

नन्ही सी जान के साथ अपनी वे भी मुस्कुरा रहे थे

समेट ही रही थी उन लम्हों को

कि वक़्त ने ले गिराया रेतों मे मुझे
जहां सहेलियों के साथ पुरे बदन में मिटटी सनाये रेतों के घर बना रही थी

घुप अंधेरो में टिमटिमाते तारों को निहार रही थी उन्ही रेतों मे लेटे ठुड्डी को हाथों मे दबाये

वक़्त ने फिर ले बिठाया तेज़ सूरज के किरणों के नीचे
जब सर पर किसी कि मार से
अचानक लगा बालों को कस के पकड़े हुए था कोई
जाड़ों कि धुप मे दीदी
तेल कि बोतल लिए हुए हाथों में
शायद डांट सी रही थी
चोटी बनाते हुए दिल्लागियों पे मेरे ताने सुना रही थी






दोनो चोटियों को उड़ाते हुए हवाओं में
गुनगुनाते हुए साइकिल को खूब तेज़ चला रही थी
मुहल्ले में जाने कहा कहा रूक कर कर जंगली फूलों के रस चूस रही थी


फिर जाने क्या हुआ

नज़र धुंधला सी गयी मेरी
धुल समझ के जिसे आखों से निकाल रही थी
तो पाया गालों में ओस कि बूंदों कि तरह भीगे
लम्हे डबडबाती आखों से छलक रहे थे

खोजती आंखों ने खबर लेनी चाहि जब वक़्त कि
जो अब तक यु मुझे भगा रह था
तो देखा कि वक़्त बीत चूका था ...
आधे अधूरे सपनो के बीच छुपे दूर खड़े अब भी मुस्कुरा रहा था



दीवार पर सर टिकाए हुए
पलकों को झुकाया ज्यो ही
माँ कि छड़ी ,पापा कि दाढ़ी , डांट दीदी की
सर को मेरे अब भी तो सहला ही रही थी

check

test 1