Till the end of time...

First sight- I ignored,

All the same I took a second look…

Pretty average- myself I told.

But shaken I felt…perhaps by fluke.

I gave it a thought,

And then laughed it off…

But with an unknown force I constantly fought.

Though the reason I was unsure of.

But I was afraid…

’cause I was sure a storm had started.

I asked, my voice laden with mockery,

Lost in me…

Will he always be?

Next time- things appeared even more grim,

Call of youth- advised a friend.

I tried hard to believe him,

’cause I did not want to meet my end.

And aware I was of my imminent doom,

The potion I was about to drink

Would mesmerise my soul in profound gloom.

As I thought so my heart started to sink.

Frantically I searched for the way out,

But once you are in there is no way out…

I asked, almost with an air of idiocy,

Lost in me,

Will he always be?

Later- doubtful I was no more.

I could listen patiently to my heart’s beat.

I felt slight tremors in the core…

I heard strange longings churning in it.

The high tide was gradually wading in…

Distinct were its surging and lashings.

Engulfed I would be if I did nothing

Yet I chose to ignore the warnings.

I had wanted to drown just by the shore,

I had everything, yet I had wanted more.

I asked, my voice fraught with irony,

Lost in me,

Will he always be?

I waited patiently for time to heal…

Steady was time…steadier my resolve to fall apart.

It still echoes the rhythm surreal…

Sacred as flame, accurate as dart.

As I watched with a sadistic glee,

I felt the noose around me tighten firmly,

I did not even try to wriggle free.

So content I was the inevitable end I could not see.

But shock and surprise did not cloud my vision.

What to realise? I was beyond realisation!

I answered myself with finality,

Lost in me,

He will always be…

PS:- Just because you have seen a rainbow there is absolutely no need to infer that it has had rained.

The most romantic season (in Kolkata)

There is a very good chance that you are expecting to read about monsoon. But honestly I have always found this particular season to be exceptionally gloomy. The sky dressed in drab rags, the flowers sobbing with downcast eyes, the leaves shedding copious tears…nature seems to be mourning a disaster of grave magnitude.

Well…the last few metaphors were not particularly expressive…so let us move to the real plane. Yes, monsoon can seem romantic but only from the confines of your comfy room. The sight of a raindrop trickling down the window pane can surely kick up your hormones and trigger in you an overwhelming desire to procreate but wait….I remember a few other instances too. For an already broken heart the same silky raindrop can wreak havoc. So you see monsoon is not always romantic…even when you are inside a room. And when you are outside? God…oh…god…who enjoys rain dancing in a natural setting? You do? Hmm…so mud splashing onto your fresh clothes is your idea of having fun? And if you were brought up in Kolkata (like I have been) you would know this…mud is not just soil mixed with water. For the sake of your mental integrity I will not elaborate upon the other constituents of “mud”. (For those people who are still curious it ranges from phlegm, rotting fruit peels to feces…ok I am stopping now!)
And your clothes stick to your body and sometimes the rain turns them transparent inviting lecherous glances from creepy men. If you are a man you probably are laughing away. Well...men don’t like it either…do they…when the wet clothes cling to their body accentuating the flab accumulated in the most inappropriate parts of their body…(a man with a well toned physique is a very rare exception). Women do not ogle (generally) but they do smirk in sarcasm.
I could go on but I think you have already got the point. The only time the rains are welcome is after a cruel and unrelenting spell of the strong tropical sun. That reminds me of summer.

“Oh, to not be in Kolkata now that May’s there!”
No, I did not mean April, though you ‘may’ add April and June to the list as well. The summer noons are so unbearable that you would not want to live anymore…so I do the next best thing to being dead…I sleep. But that is not all. The temperature would keep soaring till sleeping is rendered impossible. During this phase you would be tired and severely sleep deprived all 24 hours. And even if you live and work in air-conditioned rooms you would need to commute and get out once in a while. So the drastic fluctuations in temperature would give you “brain wrenching” headaches, your temper would shorten to less than a micron, you would pick up fights with every-possible-body and the world would happily label the Kolkatans ill-mannered.
I once had a friend who found summer to be the ‘coolest’ of all seasons. Summer was the most romantic season for this boy. I think he is still single…or not….if his taste in women is as weird as his taste in seasons then he might have found a match for himself.

And yes, the ominous spring…you will often find the Bengali poets extolling spring. All I can say is that I find this to be a blind imitation of the works of the English poets. Our springs are in no way comfortable or romantic. Recall that phrase about the darkest hour being the nearest to dawn. Tell me, at any given dark hour how can you tell if it would get even darker or if the darkness would start to fade. Well…spring would feel like the darkest hour minus the thrill of the unknown…here you are absolutely sure that it would get darker.
Apart from Holi, (which some shy people use as an excuse to touch people of the opposite sex), there is no romantic twist to this season. Some would wonder how and why I am leaving the fiery palash flowers out. You may like them but I find them a tad overdressed in the slutty way.

Just as the vernal equinox would bring the message of doom the other equinox would bring hope. Again the English poets would bring out the dreary and foreboding qualities of autumn. But I have always found the autumns to be a delightful time to be alive. The sky would don a vibrant shade of blue interspersed with soft and cool, pristinely white clouds. The sun would be unusually bright and yet the temperature would not make you want to die. The festive season would impart a childlike halo to every living being. Oh! It’s such a magical time. Many young romances (these generally do not last) bloom during the pujas. But yet I refuse to deem it the most romantic season. Why?
Well…the streets would always be traffic congested. At Kolkata, the population is way above the sane limit and as we all know too many cooks cannot cook the broth properly. And to be honest the autumnal sun’s megalomaniacal rays hurt the eyes a little…they could have been a bit more mellow. I shall tell you one secret…I tell everyone that I adore autumn because of its splendour and festivities but actually I am partial to autumn because I was born in autumn. How many autumns ago? Hey! How is that relevant here?

So autumn is not the most romantic season either. That leaves us with winter…the magnificent winter. You would look your best, you would feel at your best and you would have the confidence to inspire the best in your romantic partner. Some people (yes…I do mean the English poets) associate the wintry chill with stagnancy and death. My suggestion to such people is that they come down and spend one summer in Kolkata and never again in their lifetime would they speak disdainfully of cold.
Do you see something terribly lonely about the winter nights? Then…tell me, does that quality not make you value and cherish human company even more? Well…winter comes this close (I am making a small space between my thumb and index finger) to being the most romantic season but it is not. We seem to have run out of seasons but I believe we can accommodate one more season which I think is the most romantic of all…

The windy season.
The windy season is the most romantic season in Kolkata. When the wind blows against me it sweeps all the melancholia, exhaustion and dreariness off me. It gives me the overwhelming feeling of happiness that one feels only in the grip of first love. The breeze can be a gentle one or it can be a rough gale…I like them all. Though stronger the wind the better I feel. (Although the hot and dry tropical winds do not qualify...) I can keep on trying for the rest of my lives (yes…I sometimes do believe in reincarnation) but I do not think it would possible for me to put into words the heavenly bliss I experience in the windy season.
The flip side? Even though I feel romantic the wind sets my hair into an awful mess making me look like some truant from the asylum.

Types of men

Wine- These men would make women feel very special when they are with women but would only leave painful after-effects in their wake. Women simply get addicted to them. Even though every woman is aware of the sins of these men yet women find them absolutely irresistible.

Milk chocolate- These men are appallingly sweet and are suitable dating material only in the teenage. As women mature they gradually outgrow them.

Candy- These men can be the occasional sin for women…maybe the content of their fantasies for a couple of days only to be discarded ruthlessly in favour of someone with a better taste.

Ice-cream- These men are hopelessly romantic. Women enjoy their company at first but with time they turn clingy and mushy and create a lot of mess.

Dark chocolate- These men are intelligent, strong and intensely masculine. All women secretly desire to have one of these. The danger involved is of being overtaken and manipulated.

Junk food 1 (costly)- These men are costly to maintain, they only serve the purpose of an accessory in front of friends and after a certain period of time women realize that they have been duped by good advertising.

Junk food 2 (roadside and cheap)- These men would give women instant gratification but a day later they realise the unsavoury after-effects.

Putrid food- These men have an abhorrent quality in them. Women would rather die of starvation than have them.

Stale cake- These men used to be prized catches at some point of time but as of now they have lost their aura and magnetism.

Foreign cuisine- These men attract women very fast but the charm wears off even faster and soon women tend to feel lost and homesick.

Tea/Coffee- These men stimulate women and seemingly bring out the best in women by flattering them a lot. But there are some pretty unnerving long term side effects.

Milk- These men have all the nice qualities but women never want them. They would rather set these men up with their best friends.

Fruits- These men would definitely do a lot of good for the women they date but they are painfully boring.

Litchi- These men are almost perfect but a certain woman for some inexplicable reason may not want them even though she may appreciate all the qualities in them. (I chose litchi because I don’t like litchi whereas everybody else does…while reading you must substitute litchi with some food of your choice…something that you find unpalatable but others seem to relish.)

Salad- These men are undoubtedly very nourishing for women but if only they had a better dressing women would find them more interesting.

Dal-bhaat (calling them pulses and rice would have taken away the charm)- These men are the simpletons who are often chosen by women with some deep scar from their past from a man with normal intellect. (read food poisoning from eating out)

Meat- These men are filthy rich and women tend to flock around them leaving everything else behind but a after spending some significant amount of time together they are left feeling hollow and sick.

Medicine- These men are those whom women run to in times of trouble. Sure enough they can provide a cure to all the problems but for some unfathomable reason women find them bitter and repulsive.

Sizzler- These men always hold themselves in super high esteem and keep boasting about themselves. Sooner or later they go cold and the emptiness becomes apparent.

Water- This man is indispensable. You have him everyday yet you need him all the time to stay alive and happy. Yes…he is the one.