Tuesday, November 04, 2008
I accept that years have passed. From a bunch of students who started it, some has become successful professionals. But it is not to easy to forget your passion.
When I type in the words in my CV format, I always write blogging as my hobby. Though now I’m so infrequent that I don’t have any frequency at all. But I still call myself a blogger. And never add “ex” before that word.
And I’m sure I’m not the only one. Either you are with me or you will be with me someday. And that day “The Collage” will rejuvenate. The phoenix will rise from the ashes.
That’s the only reason I still couldn’t press the “delete blog” button.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
lack of passion?
lack of time?
or we just logged out?
may be all of them....may be none of them...
may be the collage no longer exists...now we r all different frames...different snaps....
may be..we just logged out....
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
In the other end of the line , there were two more people trying to create a bond .A rusty afternoon in rusty old city. Dreams infuriated as these people tried hard to maintain the silence.
It was tick tack toe to the sound of the keyboard. Aspects of life were in question again !
Smallest loss in a worldly city of desires. Wire tangled as we tried to uncover the mystery. Mistake at any point could lead to a loss. Loss of humanity , loss of desire. If the question of life stood up again ?
The very aspect of computing started with the concept of doping a semiconductor. The impurities gave the power to have more speed. Time was running past us , as it always did. It was as if in a moment of truth. Truth was sublime , we could not question the viability of truth being false and false being truth.
If the thermal runaway factor affected the mind , it would explode. The explosion would throw up molten lava all around us. The future would be back in the past. Heart beats lost track of life and took a new path of their own.
What if all of us were numb ? What if all up of were machines ? What if I failed to capture the spirit ? What if a cycle of year would be replaced by a cycle of clock.
All boiled to down to one single question , where to start ? Where to end ? I have lost track of time.
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
The keyboard creaked under the pressure of 120 wpm. The fingers running with mechanical precision in a marathon race on the strewn alphabets: pausing with dramatic effect once in a while, as if like predators waiting to swoop down for the kill.
Are you ready yet?, inquired Qutb. You think this is all child play?, answered Fadr, irritantly. The fake American accent is a dead giveaway. You always take too long. That is because you do not keep your trap shut...
We always tend to judge everything from before. Like tending to identify all archaic Moslem names as Islamic jehadis on a mission to terrorize. Like thinking that phony voices on the other side of a help line is that of a bloody native who resides in an obscure part of the globe. Like thinking that all stories tend to end on a positive note.
The wires traced all the way to through the jungle of heat vents into the server. Emotions, ideals, love, hate, life, death: all as one unidentifiable mass were being strangled into thoughts. It was all about ethics and conscience, wasn't it? But did the question really matter in the end? Who decided what was right and what was wrong?
The white code was now awash on the black screen. Commands, logic loops and variables: all in one indefinite chaos of a program. The virtual world seemed very unreal when it broke up into bits like these. We work in a world where everything seems so good to be true. When stripped to its spine we come to see how deep the rabbit hole goes. Storing our 0s and 1s as electrical currents in one of the billion transistors in our mind.
ADMINSTRATOR RIGHTS RESERVED
Fadr was sweating profusely by now. He was fearing whether he could complete the task at hand or not. Failure was not an option. Is there something wrong?, barked Qutb. No, Fadr stuttered, nothing, nothing, rushing in to cover up. Fadr was never so tensed. His hands were shaking uncontrollably by now. A nervous breakdown was imminent. Complex problems always had simple, easy to understand wrong answers. Qutb suddenly lowered his voice. We have to leave, hurry up now: come on.
( To be continued by The Euphoric Dreamer )
Saturday, September 16, 2006
The Collage of Our Brain Imprints"-unfortunately we are not following these words.....
Sorry friends......I'm quitting "The Collage" ...pardon me....
BEST OF LUCK TO "The Collage"
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Rohan picked up the call…
Bip bip bip…. (call ended…)
Now this was irritating…..rohan started thinking even his cell phone is started playing with him at last….
Again..the phone starts ringing….
Bip bip bip….. (call ended…)
(within next 2minutes ho got 6calls from that number…finally he thought may be it is priyanka…she is calling rohan… but lacks the courage to talk to him..& if this was earlier days… he would bother about the balance of his mobile... but itz the last night off his life… so finally he called up that no…& itz a female voice…)
Rohan- hello, who’s that.. I am getting calls from this no…but no one is talking…
Unknown voice- I am really sorry…
Rohan- ya it’s okay… but do I know you? Or may I know why did you dial up my no? who are you?
Unknown voice- I am Pronomita Banerjee… and I am really sorry… actually I was just dialling random no… I’ve no bad intension… please trust me… I… I … I was just…
Rohan- you were just what ma’am? What happened to you? Though I don’t know who are you… still it seems you are having some problems… now you can see luck plays the trick & you dialled up my no… so if you want you can confide in me… in any case.. It’ll be a secret… because I won’t be here from next morning… so I can assure you…
Pronomita – oh… so you are going some where?
Rohan- aah… well… let’s not talk about that... Tell me about your pain…
( Pronomita started her story… with a pause and a deep breath…. )
I’m a house wife… married for last 2yrs… I’ve nothing left which I don’t have… rich husband… small family… loads of maids…
Rohan (interrupting…) - then ma’am….
Pronomita- aah please Rohan…let me finish first… I need to say everything…
But there is not love… my husband is so busy in his life that he has no time for his wife… but I can’t give divorce to him… so… there is only one option that is suicide… rohan… can you remember your college days?
Rohan was shocked… he wasn’t expecting this question at all…after a few seconds he said… yaa he does…
Pronomita- so rohan?? How was it? Cool? Hip hop? Or what?
Rohan could not able to understand why the hell on this earth she is asking all these…still he said yaa he was quite popular in girls in his time…
Pronomita- can you remember all of their names?
Rohan- err… no... how can I? I didn’t ask any of the girls to like me…
Pronomita- I’m sure you are wondering why am I asking all these bullshits to you.. right? Well… you know in my college days I used to like a guy… but he never looked back at me… & when after all he did so.. He did all those for a purpose… he played with me, with my emotion. Then left me. I got married. I was so happy. But no. life has always some bad surprises in its store for me.
Rohan-and what was the surprise?
Pronomita- last week I saw that guy on the road. He was not well it seems. Because, his face was dull. His out fit was messed up. And I saw that I still think about him. God damn it! Why? Why? Why? Rohan.. Can you answer this question? & I followed him the whole week. Finally I got his number. But I didn’t call him up. I know if I give a call to him, mentally I’ll feel guilty for my husband. It’s not a question of love. It’s about honesty. & I’m not honest with my husband. And my mind is continuously provoking me towards that guy. I can’t control my emotion. What should I do rohan? What should I do?
Rohan- you should not remember that bustard… (he said this, but in his mind he thought may be somewhere someone thinks like this for him. He had done all these many times with many girls… LIFE… a play….)
Pronomita- don’t you think I should atleast contact him for once…one last time… though I doubt whether he can remember me…
Rohan- how you can be so loving? What if he can’t able to recognise you? Or may be he can… may be…
Pronomita- rohan can you remember a girl from economics department? Her name was preetha. Loved you a lot. But you ditched him?
It was tough for Rohan to remember…after a lot of hints he recognise that girl… though the image was not fully clear. And then suddenly he asked pronomita “how do you know her?”
Pronomita (with a mysterious laughter)- look, you can’t even able to remember her.. What if that girl still remember you? Still think of all those moments you shared with her in your mess? In shankarpur? & what if that girl is a grown up lady today & what if she is going to commit a suicide? & before that she just wants to hear her beloved ones voice for once?
Rohan- what are you saying? Who are you? ( loads of pictures came to his mind… shankarpur with that girl… & so many memories……) WHO ARE YOU???
Pronomita- you guessed it right rohan. Now I think I should keep the phone… I just wanted you to recognise me…
Rohan- don’t keep the phone…
But there is no sound but bip… bip… she has kept the phone…
Rohan became stunned…
Rohan couldn’t commit suicide… neither could he recover the address or anything about Preetha. He started living his life. With a regret. But life goes on…and on… and on…
Friday, September 01, 2006
Finally, Rohan had decided to commit suicide. The only question which was in his mind was "How". How should he free himself from these earthy shackles? Though he wanted to die, he didn't want an ugly death. So, he decided to have sleeping pills. To get lost in his dreams forever.
He wore his shirt and sleepers and went out to buy the pills. The day was a cloudy one. The road was muddy with puddles of water in between caused by rain. The whole environment had a grumpy thing associated with it and the sullenness didn't leave the people. Rohan went to a medicine shop and bought two sleeping pills and after half an hour he had already visited some more medicine shops. He had got around twenty sleeping pills.
"This will do" said Rohan to himself. He went back to his one-roomed flat, the rent of which was unpaid for five months and the landlord was threatening him every other day to throw him out of the room.
Once inside, Rohan sat on his rickety bed and started calculating his assets. Well, he didn't have much to calculate. His bank balance was nothing mentionable. He had a couple of hundred rupees after buying the pills. Other things were not much, too. Nothing more than the minimum requirement of a bachelor living alone. A bed, pillows, some bed sheets, some clothes, some books and magazines, a tape recorder with some cassettes and some stationary. That's all Rohan had managed to acquire in his twenty six years of life.
He absent mindedly picked a book and started browsing through it.
Some photographs came out of it. Priyanka smiling in one of them. In another he and Priyanka in a studio, some more photos, more memories…the happy memories of once.
Rohan checked his cell to see if Priyanka had replied to his sms. But no, the inbox was as empty as his life. He had sms’ed her saying that he was gonna commit suicide and would go far away from her life. He didn't think that Priyanka will come to his arms after reading the sms and will cancel her marriage with Siddartha. All he expected was a call from her : the goodbye call.
When he came back to the mortal life from his reverie, he felt he was tremendously hungry. And why not, it was six already. He had had his breakfast long ago and didn't have any lunch. He decided to have his last meal luxuriously. After all he wouldn't need any money from tomorrow.
After having a filling Chinese meal and some pegs of vodka, Rohan, a bit tipsy, came back at ten. Priyanka hadn't called or sms’ed so far. "Why" thought Rohan, "Why doesn't she make a single call. Is that too much to ask? Anyway..."
He changed into his pajamas and got the pills. He drank a gulp of water and took out a pill...
The phone started ringing.
To be continued...
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Keep visitng and enjoy the stories.
Monday, May 29, 2006
I don't know why I did what I did. Its just that I feel contented now. A bit unsatisfied too - but that's just because you didn't make my story come true.
I only know that it is going to happen again - in this same room. You made me do it and you will force his hand too. I hate you - why don't you free me from this curse?
I see you when I look into the mirror - I feel you when I am alone - I hear you when everything's silent - Why don't you let me rest?
You made me do what I did. And I know you are not sorry for making me do what I did.
God will bless the souls of my four friends...but how will mine be purged?
Enough said...you will not repeat this fiendish act again. I am going to end this pain of mine. And since you are me and I am you, you are going to end too.
Just stop making stories true.
"What a f***ing strange letter!", moaned Vicky. Avi complained, "I didn't understand a bit..." while Subir retorted, "After all it is supposed to mean to the person the letter is addressed to, isn't it?". Priya only nodded, but to whose comment, no one understood.
And the night passed away.
The Morning Herald
29th May, Monday, 2006
Staff Reporter, Reuters : Brutal murders took place yesterday night at a private hotel in Pelling. Police were informed about the homicides by the residing manager. The incident first came to his notice when one of the waiters' returned saying that the door to Room No. 111 was locked.. The manager himself had then gone there to check. On forcing the door open after repeated knocking for fifteen minutes he had found the three tourists and an unknown person sprawled on the floor. They seemed to have been stabbed with savage ferocity with a sharp weapon. He had immediately called the police. The victims were later confirmed dead. Police took away the bodies soon after to a local morgue for post-mortem. Official investigators suspect the motive to be a love 'quadrangle'. An incriminating piece of evidence, a letter written anonymously, was found at the crime site. According to it the girl who was engaged had a secret liason with one of her companions while the third one fancied her. In a shocking turn of events, the girl's fiancée also had arrived the previous evening to announce his breakup. The ensuing altercation between them took a violent turn and resulted in the gruesome murder of the four youths. Detectives presume the letter to be a false piece of evidence meant to mislead the investigation. The manager reports that one of the companions was missing. Investigators suspect him to be the perpetrator of these ghastly killings but till now all trails leading up to him have led to dead ends. With panic and fear running high in the minds of locals this is surely going to adversely affect the booming tourism industry in the sleepy town of Pelling.
Ten years later.
28th May, Sunday , 2016.
Paradise Hotel, Pelling.
Room no : 111.
Four friends sitting in a circle on the bed with a letter.
Sunayana started, "I found this letter in the drawer today you know...let us guess what's in the letter...it would be like a game of a sort - atleast until the electricity comes back."
"Is there any name of a sender or receiver written on the envelope? I mean, that can be a clue...", commented Partho, looking at the letter with eager eyes in the light of the candle.
"I think we should start only if someone gives me a bottle of rum - I think better when I am drunk...", exclaimed Krish.
"Its written - From Subir, To Sneha - does this deserve to be called a clue?", chuckled Sunayana. She resumed, "I think it will be better if you start with your version Ashim...".
A weird smile curled in his frail lips. He didn't know why but he suddenly felt that he had seen the letter somewhere before.
--- * ---
"You have egged me on - made me commit horrendous sins - made me flee from the police and everyone - what do you still want? I am going to end this pain of mine today. And since you are me and I am you, you are going to end too.", said Subir, decisively.
He just didn't understand that we aren't black or white afterall - just different shades of gray. Questioning why we wear these human suits to hide our inner demons don't bring any answer in the end.
When the king and the pawn will unite for another parting.