Probably fiction.

I kept staring at the fingers. Long graceful fingers. Pretty fingers. A little bended at the top. In the light. Across the light. In the shadows. Expressing, resting, just being plain nervous.
Good hands. Nice hands.

I have stubby ugly fingers myself. And I am a sucker for pretty hands. I kept staring at them, and I think I fell in infatuation. A little.

Because it is hard work being a democracy.

In my constituency, I had a choice between

a. A communal and misogynist party.
b. A corrupt and complacent party.
c. A stupid and 'subidhebadi' party.
d. Certain non-entities.

It was not an easy choice to make. But I did vote.

Dhin chak.

Pnochishe Boishakh.

Rabindrasangeet always reminds me of drowsy school mornings when we would belt out incredible lyrics without a clue as to their actual meanings.

Considering the circus that has been the last 4 years, these memories are always, always rather special.:)

Jonmodin, etc.

One of these days, I will invent a time machine, go back in time and marry this man. Until then, I will fantasize.