Tuesday, October 13, 2009

A letter from yesterday



Its amazing what cleaning old stuff can lead to! Every time I start cleaning my room (trust me it’s a rarity!) I always end up finding something or the other from my past. This last time I found a letter. One which I had forgotten to send. Or maybe I had decided later that I didn’t have to. Whatever it was, I don’t even remember the occasion on which I had written the letter. It however sheds some light on my past…and the reason why my life shaped out to the way it did. So here it is…

N.B: The handwriting is hardly legible and gives the impression that it is written by a trembling hand…

Ami kichu parchi na. Kichu bujhte parchi na. U weren’t wanting to talk over the phone. But I feel I cant stay without talking to you. So I am writing down everything I am thinking of…everything that is coming to mind. Amar mone hoche je I am not enjoying my life. I am always engrossed in you. Just try sometimes to do other things. But I am always thinking about u at the back of my mind. Earlier the time I had for u was u alone, and after meeting up with u, I found just as much interest in my studies. Now I have no ninterests. I am not happy in life. I have lost my will to do things. I am no longer the passionate one u fell in love with. I am not blaming you. Just need ur help. Scold me more often. Don’t push me away but tell me where I should stop. I need to be happy about not ONLY making u happy. There are loads of other things in life that I wanna do. Make me enjoy them. Like I did before. Sorry for asking SO much. But I feel somewhere down the line, you grew up much faster then I did. Help me grow up now please. So that I can catch up with u. Na hole hobe na. Ami pagol and frustrated hoye jabo. Puro frustrated.
I feel better now after talking to you.

Saturday, October 3, 2009

Friday, October 2, 2009

Confession

Broken pencils and lost toys
Make way for broken hearts and lost love.
Tiny rivulets of joy,
Long washed away by floods of despair,
The fear of telling a lie,
Smothered by the fear of facing the truth.
Rain, wash away my years,
I just want to be pure again.