The Dimension Of The Being

"My misplaced euphoria and that afternoon siesta and many more things that my growing up was made of. I never actually grew up, I remained the same, I just grew more knowledgeable. As the years passed I slowly opened every facet in me. Opening every door, every nooks and corners in the search of goodness but I never found one. The more I opened, the more dark it become. My search started when I first saw  my demon, the anger face to face. I was shocked because all I knew of me was good till that moment. I am a doer and I do not give up till I have done it, searched it and tried it all. So, in the search of goodness began my journey of discovering the darkness in me. Growing up was replaced by exploring my inner self.

I stayed in a hostel for my graduations....hostels are scary places......there are things going on which you cannot even explain. Things uncalled for. We studied late in the night four of us and slept around 1:30 am in the morning. I went out once in between to the washroom. My hostel had a long corridor. My room was on one end and the washroom at the other end the corridor had rooms on one side and on the other there was a open area. As I moved on I saw something from the corner of my eyes. I ignored it then it again happened I looked back but there was nothing. I went to the washroom and when I came out I saw the girl who had the room next to me.

Mahalaya: The homecoming of the Goddess, of our Mother. Today is the day our Mother comes to her Earth. This home coming is abrupt and uncalled for and so, it is also known as "Akal Bodhan". The ritual, as the legend says was started by Lord Rama to obtain blessings during his war wit Ravana.Commendable Lord Rama calls Shakti (Durga) to fight Ravana who is a staunch devotee of Lord Shiva, Ma Durga's Husband. Ten Hands, Fiery Eyes, Half Opened Third Eye and all equipped Mother for me was the source of Awe and inspiration. She always said to me "If you want it to be done then do it yourself, put your 1000% and let it happen." While growing up outside my native place, my Durga Puja was not a typical saga of the Pandal making and shopping in the streets of Kolkata but it was the Durga Puja which signalled my home coming, our home coming to our home. Do not get me wrong here, I am a Human first and then an Indian but then it is hard to resist the pampe

Please Note: This is the second chapter for week 2 in the "Game of Blogs" for the team "Bards of the Blogosphere." #CelebrateBlogging Read the previous part of the story here “…And what a day it was! Our Honourable Minister is yet to come; I guess his arrival tomorrow can spice things up.” Jenny mused to herself as she got out of the Hotel and the conference. With hands on her hip and head thrown up in exasperation, it had been a tiring day. All of a sudden she searched her pocket and took the schedule for tomorrow. “The Honourable Minister arrives, his speech, discussion…more discussion….umm….wait Cyrus Daruwala’s speech….whoa! Cy is important stuff here….umm….let’s call him up and take some idea on what’s brewing   tomorrow.” said Jenny to herself as she quickly took out her mobile and called Cyrus. “Hello, am I speaking to Cyrus Daruwala?” she said controlling her fits of laughter and sounding serious. “Yes, this is Cyrus. Who is this?

Me: I am fed up Dad....I mean all these quotas and all.....They disgust me a lot. I mean I never got an extra chance. I studied hard and you, Dad  had to go through many sacrifices to make your children get a decent education but look at these people who are having cars and all are touted as OBCs and are getting benefits whereas the poor so, called High Caste suffers. Look at the Pandits in the temple, ready to be your Brahmin and read "Shlokas" on your behalf just for a paltry sum and the boy is just fifteen . I am sure he cannot go to the school, but he won't get help. Why? because firstly he is a "General" secondly he is technically"Above Poverty Line". Look at Shakuntala's Aunty's kids (Our House Help's Kids) they are so bright and technically they go to the school but learn nothing from the government school. Where is the benefit reaching Dad? It is not reaching to the masses. Dad: What do you mean? Do you want extra benefits

In my moments of insomniac delirium, I often toss and turn around in my bed. Waking up in between to scribble or draw something. As a student my parents used to buy the thickest of registers for me. My registers just finished and if you stack the registers one over the other I am sure you will find a lofty loft thing overreaching me in height (Though I do not have a great height to boast of). My parents believed I was doing maths, solving equations in physics and meanwhile they were true to an extent but half of my register was dedicated to scribblings and drawings. These registers; half reason and half insane were so, me. I am defined the best by these registers. Half Logical, half insane. Half righteous, half immoral. Half slave to the norms and half rebels. Staring at the mirror, me The Apparition I am saint, I am Devil . Hanging by a thread where insanity meets sense or vice versa I have lived my life. I have used a force, a tremendous force so, that I can just b

Please Note: This is the second chapter in the "Game of Blogs" for the team "Bards of the Blogosphere." #CelebrateBlogging Read the previous part of the story here As the phone rang Tara looked at it and let out a sigh of exasperation. It was a busy day at the office with news flying like paper rockets, zooming from one corner to another, made by the people and hitting people. There were the usual scams, murders, rapes and the news of a minister's death. Tara sometimes; in her lonely wantonness, thought what was wrong with the world but then the face of Shekhar flashed in front of her and she smiled subconsciously and felt that all was well with this world. She remembered Roohi growing up in the posh flat of Nariman point and she remembered her childhood in the lanes of Hedua, Kolkata where the colonial charm refused to fade away and the love of "Ma" along with "Parar Mashimar" (Neighbourhood Aunt) increased every ye