tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27625235759792195772024-03-13T06:06:32.135-07:00UmmagummaConfessions Of A Wordoholic!Rinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02442468004375739935noreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2762523575979219577.post-10613468575521717722011-01-10T23:29:00.000-08:002011-01-11T00:11:13.887-08:00A bouqet of love in its raw nakedness.<br />
A couplet of poetry and familiar songs.<br />
And as life grips with its gnawing idleness.<br />
I convey all my loving to you.<br />
Just as the the afire sky conveys it's hopes of rain on a sunny day.<br />
To the unknown lover.Rinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02442468004375739935noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2762523575979219577.post-48702959460404149582010-12-26T01:18:00.000-08:002010-12-26T01:18:36.566-08:00To The City That Provides Euphoria<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://i1.trekearth.com/photos/120340/img_0144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" n4="true" src="http://i1.trekearth.com/photos/120340/img_0144.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">My entourage with the city I am awestruck with, is some 17 years old.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Though it feels like a lifetime of indebtedness.Now that I no more reside here permanently,hence I have frequent nostalgic attacks every time I walk past the streets of Calcutta. Every para and every <em>goli</em> known and unknown hollers out songs of familiarity everytime I walk past them.And every <em>phuchkawala </em>reminds me of the <em>phuchka dadu</em> who was the alltime hero outside school.Everytime I see the self-proclaimed madman howling out names of stoppages from a multicoloured bus, it gives me a queer feeling of familiarity.Be it a random Bangla hoarding, or a random Moheen song, or a random old face i haven't seen for long,or the obscenely huge pillars of Prinsep Ghat, I feel happy.Yes.Anything about the city provides euphoria to every fibre of my being.</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>This piece of shit may be of no importance to people who have for nothingto do with Calcutta, but nevermind.Rinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02442468004375739935noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2762523575979219577.post-47939143834827796992010-12-25T22:16:00.001-08:002010-12-25T22:21:21.104-08:00A Lost And Found One<div align="center"><strong> The Fifth Wall</strong></div><div align="center">The four walls that stopped speaking</div><div align="center">Ages ago since the last making</div><div align="center">The four walls that died.Since the collied night has ever cried.</div><div align="center">Yes, the four walls.</div><div align="center">That keep searching for the fifth wall.</div><div align="center">And in vein do they keep growing tall.</div><div align="center">Of bends and bows, and rise and fall;</div><div align="center">Of numerous makings of love and all.</div><div align="center">Yes, the four walls that kept growing tall.</div><div align="center">In search of another fifth wall.</div><div align="center"> </div>Rinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02442468004375739935noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2762523575979219577.post-46294302697880434962010-12-25T22:09:00.000-08:002010-12-25T22:11:11.334-08:00WhateverNow that i've spent half my life wasting last pages of almost every goddamn notebook, i decide to waste some bandwidth.<br />And hence, the blog.Rinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02442468004375739935noreply@blogger.com0