Do things change?

Feels like I m writing after a long time... but since there is such a huge audience waiting for me so I apologize to them for the delay... hahahahaha....

Monotony has become a part of life now and sometimes even in that monotony I tend to find patterns of interest. Something or the other keeps changing. I look back at what I used to be and what I am now, there is a gap which seems hard to fill. I wasn't like this. Then how did I become the way I am right now. They say people never change, but they do in many ways. I heard it once in a movie, sometimes things change and sometimes they don't. Its true.

Wishing I could go back to what I used to be but it seems like I have forgotten the path. I think that path is lost with the innocence of childhood. But there is still one thing that I have found to be consistent and thank God for that, as it is the only thing that helps sometimes, writing.

I recently had an interview where I was asked what kind of things I write? In my CV its written that I like to write about everything and just about anything. So the HR asked me to write a few lines about anything. At first I was nervous but the moment I held the pen in my hands I knew exactly what I had to write about. And the flow started. I could have written more but had to hold my pen down. The other girl in the interview cam to me later asking about what I had written. At first I thought maybe she hadn't understood my scratchy handwriting. But she questioned my motives behind writing that piece. It was about Saccharine.

I felt more confident then ever. I was cool as an ice and steady as a rock. I got through. Anyways, There are things that do change and you can't help it, its the growth process but thank God somethings don't change or I would have lost myself entirely now. 

My stupid Heart

Life can be dreary and gloomy. Things that once gave you comfort sometimes hurt like thorns. Things that warded off your miseries themselves become our object of misery. We want to be strong and head towards the journey waiting for us right in front, but somewhere in the dark corners of our hearts there lurks a wish to pluck out thorn and hold on to it through the entire journey. The pain and misery, gloom and dread everything is the after math of love. Love for one thing destroys the love for something else. It’s the norm of this cruel world. Love was never meant to be easy. We want it and we want it in our own way. But that’s just it. God never intended us to have it in our own way. Then how is it that we see other people happy in love. As they say, the grass is always greener on the other side of the pasture.

It’s the unlucky sort, like me, that see the world in a whole new perspective. Its the experience we go through of losing someone whom you wanted for everything else that shows us this perspective. Is there a cure to such pain? I doubt that. Love begets love, hate begets hate and poison begets poison. But my love seems to have exhausted, all that I m left with is hate and poison, but the remnants of that love were so deep rooted that hate just perishes before it can be inflamed.

For typical losers like me, who seem to fall in love only once in their miserable lives, live with their stigma throughout. I don’t know whether pain will beget this pain. But I m sure it will take a lot more than love to beget the love in my broken heart. You wish that love never existed but it did. The memories fade away and all that is left is the hate and pain. Why? Was the love not strong enough to keep its own memories? I wonder how is it possible to love someone else when you are already touched by the power of love. Can a new love survive? Will there be enough place for the new love? Will there be enough love to reciprocate the new love?

Questions far more stupid and pointless keep arising and the most wondrous part is that there never seems to be any answer. The only thing that this stupid heart desires is ………….. well its hard to tell cause it never knows what it wants. 

Dream

Every night I close my eyes, with the sweet sound of your lullaby. 
I dream of a heaven in your arms, where I yearn to be bound in your charms.
But then I open my eyes to see, the reality that lies in front of me.
Life goes on as a never ending stream, and my only hope is the heaven in my dreams.


- Pritha Biswas

A New Beginning

A New beginning is what I await,
a new expression here to state.
A new meaning to define my life,
a new horizon to strive.

Like a broken arrow I'd lost my vision,
but here I m at the turn of the season.
Back to life and back to victory.
I will do it all to achieve my destiny.

The turns that I had missed,
the opportunities I never kissed,
I regret them none,
For I know there are many, not just one.

Life has shown some ugly faces,
That had confined me to solitary spaces.
But with the new dawn came the sunlight,
brushing away all the fears from my sight.

So here I stand before you all,
to convince you never to fall.
Rise above the ashes of failure,
Nothing less than your own savior.

Until we meet again

The love that I shared with you once, will never share with anyone,

The hate that is of me for you, I never thought, I could have for someone.

The thing that churned inside me, day in and day out,

It was nothing, but my love for you, so devout.

There was once a time I cared for nothing, but for you, my love,

And now is the time I care for everything, but for you, my love.

You said you couldn’t say it to me, that I ought to have felt it,

You said you couldn’t feel it for me, that I ought to have said it.

My eyes still bear the tears that you left me with,

My heart still bears the pain that you hurt me with.

I thought if I got away, that pain would somehow fade away,

But the pain gets worse with every passing day.

Never does an hour go by, that I don't wonder, what you are doing?

Never does a thought go by, that I don't wonder, if only we could have been.

I console my heart and my soul, for better days to come.

For days when I behold someone, that he give me love, not much but some.

I wish, someday I live again,

With no more scratches on my heart, with no more pain.

I believe in destiny, so it shall be the same,

But I never want to part with you, until we meet again. 

I think I can cook.......

In the recent times a lot of lifestyle and living channels have cropped up on our televisions sets teaching us the ways of the rich and the famous. But most of the time slots are filled with cooking shows. Now don’t think that I am against them or that I am being sarcastic, on the contrary I like them a lot, really I swear. I love the way these chefs or everyday people or even sometimes celebrities cook food and all the exotic ingredients they add and all the garnishing which looks all so cute, sometimes I wonder if I could actually bring myself up to eating it and destroying that cute little thing. But still at the end of the day, when I walk up to my kitchen I don’t find half the ingredients they go on to add and I end up cooking the regular dal or sabzi or some other boring dish. Then comes the god blessed Saturday. I go out into the market and buy everything I need and bring them home. I cook with all the zeal and zest and the outcome, a great exotic dish. Everyone in my family is happy. After all, I can cook, I proved myself. A month goes by and I shuffle in the kitchen looking for something and there they are like ghosts from the past, those same ingredients that I had once bought, of no use now, rotting in the dark corners of my kitchen. I curse myself on the amount I had spent on buying them. But alas, what’s done is done hoping no one other than me, see it or I would have to cook the whole charade again.

It was my parent’s 31^st anniversary and I wanted to give a personal touch so I decided to do something special. I decided to throw them a small party at home and I would cook, now come on I did prove myself worthy of cooking, didn’t I? Unfortunately, on the anniversary day it was full moon and my very religious mother preferred to have everything to be veg. and that did not include onions or garlic, a big blow to my cooking plans. Fortunately, I have a friend who is an expert in cooking stuff, weird and unnatural things, you name it and she can cook, deliciously. Uncanny talent, you see. I once heard her saying that she could cook Shahi Paneer. So along with many other vegetarian dishes I decided to cook Shahi Paneer. It was over the phone that I had asked the recipe and I had braced myself for unnecessary ingredients and hours of standing in the kitchen. But when she was done giving me the instructions and I looked down over my note book, it was done in not more than 4 lines. The ingredients were mostly found at home and amazingly the cooking took less the 15 mins. and miraculously it didn’t require neither onion nor garlic.

Now don’t think that we had to compromise over the taste, no. My dad is a shrewd critic and when he appreciates something then it means, it’s worth it. Well, he actually liked it or should I say “loved it”. I thanked my friend and she was glad to be there for help. I proved my worthiness again.

Ever since then I have been thinking is it really necessary to go out of the way to cook something and buy stuff which won’t be required in the near future, cause frankly speaking Indian cooking is nowhere near Mexican or continental or Spanish or Chinese or any other country dishes. It’s kind of obvious, none are to each other. My brother, who thinks he is no less than a reputed chef himself, might not agree with me, because he does go out of the way every time he gets an urge of cooking, which happens every Saturdays and Sundays.

But here, I am talking about the lazy brats like me, who like to eat but with less efforts and miraculous outcomes. For me anything that takes more than an hour to cook should be purchased from the market. I know there are lot critics here who are waiting to pounce on me on this one. But for me I speak the truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God. So not to hurt anybody’s feelings all I want to say is the art of cooking lies when you can make simple vegetable taste like heaven. And I get the opportunity of tasting it every now and then when my mom cooks for me. Not being too emotional, I beg all the motherly people to extend a hand to us and send us such recipes that make us healthy and our tongues an expert for tasting delectable food. (Without much efforts, though)