Bose Writes Things

L ove is an incomprehensibility. Follies and boons withheld- I like to think of love as a complete organic package of unadulterated self-discovery. Self-discovery, because when you pledge her your love, you agree to keep no differences and see her as you would see yourself- with nothing but the naked truth; whether it be while playful courtships, adventurous endeavours or moral strengthening. Otherwise love would be nothing but an evolutionized form of deceitful friendship;  like the Nile-  a season of plenty; followed by a season of hallowed nothingness, when it does not want to understand the responsibilities it bears. That precisely, is when it ceases to exist and becomes more of an obtusely top-heavy liability... an afterthought at the back of your head ! Colloquial definition of a relationship runs at the ragged edge of cinematographic inferences (in some cases, only the erotic), so was mine! It took both of us more than a thousand nights of moist-eyed insomnia to...

Abba taught me to shut the door and I obediently complied every time, as if my presence was inconsequential. I was taught not to make a fuss about petty issues and be content with whatever was provided because my life was supposed to be an offering to Allah, the divine. Therefore, I muted myself to the genocides and swears that my abba and his adversaries carried on, in the name of a sacrosanct, imaginary supernatural being who never showed himself. Maybe the "Allah", abba spoke about was scared of these barbarians himself. What abba failed to realize was that he shut the doors to tolerance, simple perception and brotherhood; and instead opened the window to blind religious orthodoxy. Outside the cold winter was omnipresent, love could melt the ice, but Abba chose to hammer it with orthodoxy. Hindus and Muslims knew not that they were of the same species- it always looked as if a clan of curs battled the others to maintain its own sanctum, only, here it wasn't to defen...

15th August 2013: Sunny morning here in my hometown, after all the rainy days that soothed the climate down to a bearable limit- this seems more like a typical springtime atmosphere though it is supposed to be monsoon here now. I get out of bed and find my cell-phone buzzing in a horrendously frantic way, and when I give a keener ear, I notice songs of martyrdom breezing in from my neighbor's house. It took me the heavy incoming Independance Day messages in my cell to realize the base of such an articulate celebration, and the historic relevance of the day for us Indians. Yes! you guessed it right... I had forgotten the Independence Day... I know many of you do as well, but here my forgetfulness was more deliberately enforced than instinctive. Independence is a behemoth term, and the way we maneuver at the very application of the word is seemingly unjust and unauthentic. India's freedom much like the morning of the 15th of August is sweet and alluring, yet not well fou...

It is not my hobby to be absolutely psychedelic at times, rather, it is more of a compulsion. Ever since I was a seven year old kid who saved an old man from being hit and absolutely overridden by a truck- I considered myself to be an unsung superhero underneath a more than vibrant camouflage of flesh and bones- patiently waiting for the time when I could walk out and douche the bohemian cannibalism existing in human beings that devour at the heart of the society. Whether it was due to the thrill of having saved a life or that dizzier aftermath that inoculated within my head (resulting out of the impact that it incepted, when it hid the ground during the course of action), I don't know- yet, i cherished myself wearing that red curtain, poising as superman who kicked at those four legged-furniture beasts in my house; then would momentarily pause for breath before letting out a vociferous roar (more like a pitchy shriek), yelling- "Yield Villain!" But now that I s...

N o I'm not a rebellious warrior fighting for my rights, or sanding out for a "common social cause", I'm just a simple everyday guy, trying to fight out the etiquette conundrums that a regular life has to offer. I am most invariably affected by social and moral debacles, and i employ every bit of the envious monstrosity in me to suit my needs. My poignancy in times of distress gets the better of my mental solidarity. I am not a cross-border hero, not a possessor of a fine-tuned physique. But it does not cause me any lamentation to see myself standing so aloof from Utopia because my imperfection makes me what I am today. Many a times I was given  to thinking that perfection is an art, but the way things have come up in recent years, I was forced into believing that the word "being perfect" in itself is a folly... If you never knew what imperfection is, you'd never know the excitement that comes from the fear of starting from scratch all-over again. Life...

With the increasing involvement of young minds towards studies (specifically engineering and doctor-ship) it is becoming all the more difficult to appease my parent's will towards my academics. It is a well known fact that Bengali families are of a peculiar off the trend community altogether (pardon me for not mentioning the exceptions). In Bengali families... science is considered as the only subject and if a student just as sure decides to pursue some other subject, his will is treated with either tremendous contempt or complete indifference. I myself have discovered that off late my mind is more inclined towards "English" than "Science", but most off my (nosy) neighbors and (meddlesome) relatives think that the future of any other subject is doom or at least loss of prestige in itself. Here to survive the constant accusations, curses, taunts and retributions targeted at you by people in your proximity... you need to constantly outshine your batch-mates i...