I could be the woman next door tonight. I could rave and rant and clean my house twenty times a day.
I could be a friend. Nice and pretty, with my life all in order.
I could be Boudi-dida. And stay alone for years on end in a tumbledown house, cooking rooti-aloobhaja when the owners visit the village twice a year.
I could be that man around the corner. The one who feeds all the stray cats with the money he gets from Guiness book of World Records by letting his nails grow all the way to the ground.
I could be the other man. The man just across the street. The random one you see walking down the road. Smoking a cigarette and vaguely muttering to himself.
I could be someone I know. A confused boy with Multiple Personality Disorder. I could be hard to figure out.
I could be my dance teacher. And always cloak my talent with a rich layer of innate hot temper.
I could be a professor. The nice one who looks frail. The mad one. The kind one. The arrogant one. The stupid one.
I could be you.
I could be anyone. If I could say the words.
Because, feeling and NOT saying is the hardest part, no? Sitting and letting time do it's work. Never taking the initiative because you would die of embarrassment in case you got rejected.
I have not felt like this in the longest time.
Tobe amar mone hoy, at the end of the day, sob-i bodh hoy hormone er khela. Tai eto bhebe kono laabh-i nei.