You Are Enough.



You called me ugly. But I beg to differ.

I feel beautiful.

I feel just like drunken sky, bathed in hues of yellow and blue and white, spread all over your heads, a tantalizing display of colours never seen and designs never imagined.

You called me shallow.

But I feel layered.

I feel like taste of your favourite dessert: chocolate truffle, the slightly bitter taste of chocolate oozing down to a softer, sweeter and mellower palate, both sweet and bitter serenading a taste so perfectly wonderful as if you’ve just had a culinary orgasm.

You called me confused.

But I feel precise.

I feel like the quiet and composed calm that you experience before the storm hits, that one moment of tranquillity and peace that you might never experience again, the one moment of perfect clarity when I know that no matter what the stakes, you’ll never be more content with life.

You called me monotonous.

But I feel unique.

I feel like the swaying leaf in the last nocturnal hour, the moon light shining just for me, and a thousand others, but only just for me, engulfing me in an aura so holy that my spirit is pure, its divine.

The world called me replaceable.

But honey, that’s what I’m not. I’m one of a kind, and that is enough.

Fall For A Magician.

Fall for a magician. Fall in love with a magician, a magician whose words weave mystical lands in thin air, who draws blind faith of a fading summer, whose voice makes the insides warm and squishy and it is as if everything is just right.

Fall for someone who cannot admire you enough despite the imperfections that you make evident, complaining; someone who lends to these imperfections a rhythm, a symphony, a song, a tune while stringing their guitar in the morning, while you indulge in some breakfast in bed that they prepared for you, in a voice so beautiful that it makes you giggle and blush.

Fall for someone who isn’t afraid to tell you how they fell for you; someone who chooses the right words and isn’t hesitant to tell you when it happened, almost like two worlds colliding, two universes colliding and being one for eternity; someone who can write a book about how they love the way you brush your hair, or the small mole on your back, or the color of your eye, or the glint n your hair when sunlight falls on it.

Fall for someone who paints you while you sit engrossed in your book, someone who converges the two you’s: the one of their dreams and the one that is you, in yellows and reds and in colors unseen and shades unnoticed, small details that give incredible depth and beauty and charm and poise to that simple crayon painting, making it so beautiful to look at, that it hurts.

Fall for someone who makes you their muse. That way, it doesn’t matter if you live or you die, if you laugh or cry, if it works or if it doesn’t, because it will always be there when you’re sad or lonely or depressed and you feel unloved and ugly, and maybe for just some time, your song, your poem, your picture will make you happy, and maybe, just maybe, make everything better for a while.

So fall in love with a magician, and it might just the be the best thing you would have ever done.



He lives in the words he has read, in the lives of people he has read about, in their dreams and ambitions and with each different character, he finds something he can call his. A small scar, a similar habit, a strange hobby, a favorite word, a small fetish. Yet with each person, he leaves a little of himself. The person which a certain line reminded him of, a memory that he associated with that paragraph, a tear in the paper as he opened the pages, a strand of hair that fell of his hair as he slept, cuddling the book like a lover.

Perhaps it is not wise to derive yourself, to build and make yourself from things borrowed and lent. But maybe, that is the point. Perhaps, he felt so tired of making himself, building, constructing himself from a defined box of adjectives- funny, bore, happy, witty, lonesome- instead of memories associated with that adjective that he just couldn’t take it.

Maybe for him, happiness was when he was with his friends, or when he could dance to his heart’s content, or maybe relaxation for him was snuggling next to his favorite book and maybe, contentment was when he could see the sunrise.

Maybe doubt for him is when he isn’t sure if the red blazer goes with the black shoes.

This way, he isn’t angry or sad, or depressed or happy or content or peaceful, he is a sunset and he is a song or he is the green couch you know you’d never use. He is now a bundle of memories. He is with Peeta and he is with Juliet and he is with Martin Luther King Jr and he is with Gandhi and he is with Marilyn Monroe and he with Beatles and he is with Peter Norman and he is with Sachin Tendulkar and he is with Caesar as he gets stabbed and he is with Simon Beauvoir on his last journey and he is with Voldemort as he makes his horcrux.

This way, he is everywhere, and everywhere is him.

But right now?

Right now, he is just a page marked in yet another book, preparing to be a part of a yet another universe when he leaves the smell of his favourite cologne in between its sheets.

Jana Gana Mana – From Morning Song to India’s National Anthem

Happy Republic Day.

Scribble and Scrawl

 By Somali K Chakrabarti

Thou art the ruler of the minds of all people,
Thou Dispenser of India's destiny.
Thou art the ruler of the minds of all people,
Dispenser of India's destiny,
Thy name rouses the hearts of Punjab, Sind,
Gujarat & Maratha, of Dravida, Orissa and Bengal,
It echoes in the hills of the Vindhyas and Himalayas,
mingles in the music of Jamuna and Ganges,
and is chanted by the waves of the Indian Sea.
They pray for thy blessings and sing thy praise,
Thou dispenser of India's destiny,
Victory, Victory, Victory to thee.

English translation of India’s National Anthem “Jana Gana Mana” by Rabindranath Tagore

In the year 1911, Nobel Laureate Rabindranath Tagore wrote a hymn in in Sanskritised Bengali “Jana Gana Mana” that was to be sung for the first time at the 26th annual session of the Indian National Congress

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2014 In Retrospect

The stats helper monkeys prepared a 2014 annual report for this blog.

2014 has been a tumultuous journey. There were many ups and downs, also it lead to the recovery of my blog and made me fall in love with it all over again. Blogging is my escape, from this tired life, and I would absolutely not mind spending the entire day in front of this laptop screen and type whatever enters this mind. Anyways, WordPress is awesome, and it created this review-y kind of a thing that collects the stats and presents it in a pretty way. Go through it once, it’s fun, I promise!

Here’s an excerpt:

A San Francisco cable car holds 60 people. This blog was viewed about 3,200 times in 2014. If it were a cable car, it would take about 53 trips to carry that many people.

Click here to see the complete report.

Spreading Happiness in Ten Days.


With just ten days for the new year’s eve, I think its time to free myself of all the negativity that I had to encounter by actually doing something. And by something, I don’t mean moving my ass from one bed to the next or to make myself a cup of coffee. It’s time to do some good. No matter how insignificant. Because, as some one has rightly said (?) what matters are your intentions. Our pure hearts and innocent minds should be free of all malice, jealousy and confusion that 2014 gladly bestowed upon us and we should all work together towards a new beginning. And for a new beginning, we should be free of our past.

To make my past an interesting one, I’ve decided that I’d be doing some good (for myself, my family and the world) everyday, for a new beginning. And believe me, it’s not one of those Christmassy things where I demand Santa to give me something because I did this and that for he and she. For all those suspicious ones, I’ll be posting Deed Of The Day starting tomorrow everyday along with photos, so that you don’t pass of my work as yours if you want something from Santa at the last minute.

Just for some ideas, I’ve posted a list of things that I plan on doing, and if you’ve got some better ideas, feel free to comment.

1. Blanket distribution: Most of us aren’t as privileged as I am, to have two blankets and a heater by my side at, what, 7 degrees?

2. Bread and soup: I plan on inviting some of the people who work daily in my neighborhood for some hot soup and bread to feed on, for it is sinfully cold and that some hot soup would just be welcome.

3. Old clothes: For those of you unaware, I have an extra large body, and that it’d probably be true to say that I have eons of small clothes. I think it’s time to give them to those who actually need it.

4. Visit an orphanage: Some Christmas can be made good by just lighting up others’ life. And children, as they say, are God’s gifts. So some happiness for them. However, I’m still planning on it as I can’t drive, so I need a driver- my dad or mom.

5. Taking responsibility: At the beginning of 2015, I’m planning on funding at least one child’s reputation from the money that I have, thanks to my relatives.

So guys, these are some ideas that I have, that will (hopefully) bring some happiness into other’s lives. Please do comment some little things that I can do, or some little things you have done that brought happiness and lit up someone’s life. Till then, farewell.


An Editor explains ‘Arnab Goswami’ to an NRI

That is hilarious. Exactly what Arnab does.




picture-20For most TV news consumers, Arnab Goswami is both a name and a phenomenon. But there are still large parts of the world to be conquered by Times Now‘s bulldog of an inquisitor.

B.V. Rao, editor of Governance Now, explains the name and the phenomenon to a childhood friend who lives in Canada.


Dear Sharada

Sometime ago during a Googlegroup discussion you innocently asked: “But who is Arnab?”.

In India not knowing Arnab is against national interest. You are lucky you live in Canada. But if you don’t want to be deported on arrival on your next visit, you better pay attention to this complimentary crash course on the subject.

Arnab, as in Arnab Goswami, is India’s most-watched prime time news anchor and editor-in-chief of Times Now*. But designations don’t even begin to describe him or what he is famous for.

You must…

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What Makes ‘The Fault In Our Stars’?

The Fault In Our Stars

I know this is a little late keeping up with the topic, but I couldn’t resist.

John Green’s latest book has taken the whole world by storm and I am one of those people swept away with the wind. I quote the book directly- “My thoughts are stars that I can’t fathom into constellations,” – so please excuse my scattered ideas and just read on.

The book is about Hazel Grace, a sixteen-year-old grade 4 cancer patient and how her life is. Eventually meets Augustus Waters at a Cancer Support Group and from here begins “a roller coaster that only goes up.” Gus is everything that Hazel isn’t, and the story is about how their lives change, from playful flirting to the deeper connect- love. It is a story of love, hope and sacrifice, all in the face of death.

TFIOS is my favorite book now, even though, I am not a big fan of romantic book (although I am a sucker for such movies). Personally, I read the book, not because I wanted to but because some of my friends insisted and I needed to be in touch with the gossip. And I read it in a day. The story struck at the back of my head, and whatever I did, my mind kept wandering to the little thing that I liked.

But what exactly makes The Fault In Our Stars?

Hazel Grace. Augustus Waters. John Green. They make the book. The pain, the heartbreak, the love. It makes the book.

TFIOS is relatable. It is real. It speaks of cancer. Yet it is not a cancer book. It is of Hazel and Gus, yet it is yours. TFIOS is your interpretation of death, of life, of love and hope, sacrifice and the importance of life. TFIOS will teach you something that no other book will teach. It is said, “Only one who hasn’t knows its importance.” It teaches what can be taught only by a person who knows that life is limited. I teaches you the importance of life and the meaning of living. That living is not surviving. It is living…. for someone else. Loving… beyond the possible.

The Fault In Our Stars is an epic story, a story that is likely to leave a mark on your life as it did on mine. And a story that would make you cry and laugh at the same, and that book you would always go back to.

Finally, Mr. Green, I would like to thank you- I quote you directly, “You gave me a forever within the numbered days, and I’m grateful.”

P.S. This was a reminder for my dad to read is ASAP.