First Book Published

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It’s been great, after all these months of painstaking juggling between college life and the hassles of getting published, that finally it’s all over and I’m past the phase I used to be a closet poet and novelist. The journey though has been filled with difficulties, I have no regrets, and it adds a little more credit to my patience that I didn’t give up halfway and back out of the deal I signed when I had dared to dream of reaching out to the masses with my thoughts, ideals, dreams and words in print. It makes me immensely happy that finally I’m almost there where I had envisioned myself to be, and exactly at the right time I had wished it to be.

It had always been a cherished childhood desire to be like my grandfather, Tarini Kanta Bhattacharya, one of the most revered men in my life, a noted figure in the literary scene in Assam, where I come from. In my teenage and late adolescence I took up the pen to experiment with poetry, and failed a lot many times. And this year, 2013 being his 100th birth anniversary, I’m overjoyed to dedicate my book to the beloved legend, who never got to see the garden he had planted so long ago, flourishing so late, as me, a granddaughter he never got to lay eyes on, lives her life on principles he had once taught to his little children, which he himself believed in.

My wish to have a successful career in the world of science was in shatters, when I realized more than anything I’m an artist at heart. I was born to write, and I don’t know from where it just came to me, the desire to write about beauty, and love and anything that draws the soul to question monotony. Dreams, that’s where it all began. And harshness of the world, and still beauty that tore through all that. The complexities of human life, and the organism, that can think and yet with unthinking brutality, like just an animal indulges in savagery in the name of civility and all things holy.

By the time I reached my teenage, I’d seen enough, even at my home, the presence of a different kind of love other than the kind commercial Indian movies portray, but quite understandable by now, and petty squabbles. Even reading different story books and observing fellow friends in my school, made this desire grow, and gave me a silent voice that could be recorded only on paper. I wasn’t very good in my English lessons in school, and used to be despised by my teachers for tormenting them with my dullness and non-responsive behavior, and as you probably guessed, I was never a bright student; always average, at the corner, like a spectator than a participant.

In the romance department, I was worse than the advanced kind of disappointing. My fellow friends would be talking of their boyfriends and I would be pathetically eavesdropping on their chatter, creating in my mind, judging, contrasting, modifying on the basis of the existing kind, a new kind human being, who, as a lover would make up for anything anyone has suffered in their lives, the lack of adventure, the monotony of always doing the same thing, and following the same roads that lead to the grave, having no newness to the institution, and that guy, that kind of guy, I had in my mind, that I wanted for myself, actually never existed.

Then there’s a very famous writer, my idol, Joanne K. Rowling, who spoke through the fictitious Professor Albus Dumbledore, in her book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, “Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?” and that just changed my life towards the path I finally decided to take. This moment that I took up writing seriously, the year, 2007 also being very significantly important in my life.

Fanciful were those days, and also so memorable!!! Naive as I was, and pure of my unadulterated heart, foolishly I happened to stumble into the student activity room in my new school, my eyes opened to a sight like I’d never seen in my life so far… In the far corner of the room there sat this young boy with funny hair and the most carefree laughter scribbling on a desk with a couple of his friends and that sight, and with a glimpse of his eyes and smile, and my heart hasn’t been whole ever since. He fitted the mental image of my perfect lover, that I’d had so early in my head, with whom I’d begun writing my first story…the image of Dusk, and ever since I’ve never seen any other sight lovelier than that stranger boy sitting there laughing off with his friends, his entire guard down.

I wished to know him better, but then I wan’t very good at making friends, and retaining them. Especially people, I’m drawn to so fatally. IT didn’t last, but over these past six years, I’d had enough, to know he wasn’t at all that much the hero I had in mind, because I wasn’t that image, he had in his. Nevertheless, that love in return blossomed me into a woman, enabling me to write of my passions, and desires, and of love, to the closest degree I can mimic. My book is complete, the first one that I wrote to describe that ideal boy and introduce the chief character of my very first story, that is still under construction.

I wished to do a lot of things, and I’ve tried a little bit of everything. And I have no regrets. I’ve got a life ahead and I will live it as long as my time permits, and will do everything that I’ve ever had a wish in my mind (well, not everything…specially not those which are illegal, haha) to do. Beauty has always been my companion and my strong belief is that it’ll always continue to be for me who is one Libra born, and I believe in myself above all else, that I’ll never change for me, for the world, maybe yes, I might seem, but for me, it’ll be just choices that I made, which in my heart I’ll always remember, what I went through to decide standing on a crossroad.

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The Seeker

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Here is my latest piece of verse I wrote,

“Hopes will never die, as long as my heart remembers the graces you did to me.

When, in the dreamless sea of dreariness I’ll find myself sinking,

I’ll delve deeper under to visit your underwater palace of the seeking.

There in your mysterious ways, and will, and there will I find myself again.”

An Attempt to Forget

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Now, it’s all ominous chaos and ruthless scribbles, in your absence–just scraps, here and there.

The night haunts me, the silence presses on questions, I cannot answer…

Rebukes me, my heavy heart that falters, can’t speak of the last assault.

The remembrances, the little touches and your scars, the wish in me to heal the lines…

The stolen kisses, the shameless greed, and mischief, and indeed no one knew…

All of it, everything, rendered meaningless now, just goooooone in vain.

 

But I’ll find some broken kind of beauty in the blank there as well…

Prey to destiny’s unique, sadistic ambitions and schemes…here, I’m the fool again.

But, I’m not so weak, I will rise from the scraps and scribbles, life is after you,

Then, I also have the ghost of your words, the words, you sometimes, half consciously uttered..

Sometimes feeling burdened and indebted, taking pity on me, you showered.

Those words, violent for me, your name, sublime for me,

Will overwhelm me, and inspire me to live again…

Colorblind

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It’s been very long since I listened to Darius, and today I did. Someone reminded me of it, and somehow, it brought me back a piece of the old me, the kind of person I used to be. I had been denying myself of that privilege because in my journey, this road trip I’ve been on since the time I realized this is what I wanted from my life, views at the world from every angle – I wanted to know everything, demanded from me this ransom, a kind of sacrificial offering that I gave up certain things from my life, the things that used to add colors to my internal drab world, as well as fragments of memories that bound my past together which is just not anymore. And with the kind of music I loved, to the type of movies I used to enjoy watching, almost unconsciously, abandoned me, just like the people I love left…taking slow steps into the void my feet cannot walk through…

Listening to the track, Colorblind, by Darius, I was reminded of so many things, I feel suffused with just so much I have to tell about how I felt. I remembered every time I used to listen to the song, and it was a lot of times I used to listen to it at once. From the days of my childhood, this song used to dazzle me, stun me with its timeless perfection. It’s not meant to be loved by those people who have been touched by love or something like that because the rhythm and tunes, everything is perfect from Darius’ voice to the choreography of the video. From the moment Darius appears on the deserted highway stranded, and how dejected he feels because now he won’t be able to make it in time to meet his beloved at their rendezvous, he entices us by taking up his guitar and singing the song that makes us understand. Throughout the song he travels through fields and deserts, over mountains and then finally gets to the cliff, where his love waiting for him. It is then the clouds break, soaking them through, and washing away both of their impatience, because against all odds they are finally together in the end…

This is how it ends, and as they dance in through the tempest, we feel dazed and colorblind. Another perfect song…

Solitary Musings #1

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Will ever anyone read of my life,
As I read of my most revered idols…
Of my miserly life and my loveless strife,
How wishing stars turned into stark fireballs…

Keats inspired me most until a time,
To see how similar his life was to mine…
Shelley gives me dreams and Tennyson sighs,
Blake awes me, and Longfellow gives me a bye.

Tormented, each were by the world of love,
And yet, determined, to pave their grassy lane,
For others birds of the same feather to follow,
Their wings through the wildnerness, unharmed.

While standing before a foaming sea,
I feel like soaring as high with the surf.
Then footprints on the sand, reminds me
Of my unfinished life, and the miles of Frost.