When the quill stops spinning words, tags are a certain path to mindless blabberings. Therefore, thankee Suddha, and a resounding * ruffle ruffle ruffle ruffle *.
It is technical, really. Answering a few mindless questions can be startling in their revelations. Anyways, here goes -

Life ten years ago....
.....was simple. That's it, really. It more or less sums up my entire 10 year old existence then. It is amazing that if I look hard, I can still find pretty much the same girl staring at me from the mirror now.Life, apart from the humongous mamar biye which happened that year, consisted of books and dance. And endless conversations with erstwhile best friend. It was insane, the number of books I devoured. I was reading while I ate, I was reading while I was supposed to study - heck, I was even reading in dance class one day. Lonely afternoons took on a magical quality as I embarked upon my quest of books. Dusty bookshelves in dim corridors were finally reachable (because I had figured out where the keys were kept). Jane Austen and Walter Scott. Jawaharlal Nehru and Charlie Chaplin. Sharadindu and Bonophool. I was encountering all. And though I didn't know then, the habit which I cultivated at that time, has saved me a LOT of sadness these 10 years. Give me a good book, and even today, heartbreak and disillutionment can go take a hike while I switch off reality at my own free will.
I was discovering Agatha Christie, Mikhail Sholokov, Mohasthobir Jatok, Bibhutibhushan Mukhopadhyay (Ponur Chithi, Borjatri anyone?) and loving it. I was learning Bharatnatyam, and hating it (the teacher beat me up one day, and I never quite got over the trauma. Even today, when Manipuri finally offers the much-needed solace, Bharatnatyam still haunts). My road to nowhere was beginning to get away from Malory Towers and winding through St. Mary's Mead. There was a 3 year old brother who had just started on his lifelong journey of B-torturing. There was a brand new mamima to talk to and gaze at. Captain Planet was of course the person whom everybody wanted. The three fingered Fred and his Wilma occupied many a solitary afternoon. And, being the class monitor was the greatest ambition in life. Titanic happened. And with it, the falling in love with Leonardo DiCaprio. For more than a month, I breathed Jack Dawson in everything I did. Scrapbooks were made and bizarre phone bills notched up while talking about this blond-haired, blue eyed dessert of a man. The quickening of pulse, the rush of blood. Ah, the first love is always always special. And then, of course, there was Benares. Lonely evenings spent listening to the gurgling of humanity on the Ghaat steps. And the winding gullees of Godhulia. And the BHU campus on Baba's scooter. Oh, and if you are interested, the growing realization about the birds and the bees.
But then, one ripe morning of 1998, I watched this. And discovered that there was more to a certain tall man than Feluda, Shonku and GuGaBaBa. Life, as I knew it, would never be the same again.


Life five years ago.....
....was good. It was the year of the dreaded Madhyamik. The birthday sucked. Because I celebrated my turning 15 by writing a maths exam. 2003 was the year of the renewal of the first crush. This was way more serious than the first love, because the crush actually existed. It was the year when P got herself a boyfriend, and I finally thought myself to be grown-up enough. 2003 was the year of turbulance. Board results were good. And I wanted to study Arts. The thumbrule of "good results = science" was ruthlessly ignored. Thus, angering most. Finally, a compromise was reached. Statistics and Mathematics were taken up - to harrass me throughout the next 2 years. I got an 88% in my first boards, and promptly flunked the first mathematics exam in class 11. CLT was happening. And dance was making a lot of sense. There were a newer set of friends, and endless rehearsals. Sweaty, itchy, thirsty twirls on stage. The pen flowed freely. And Statesman was a big thing. There was the coordinators card which opened the gates to freedom. Sunil Ganguly and Sandip Ray, and an endless stream of write-ups which, strangely enough got published. Ganguly didn't offer us tea and Sandip ( I refuse to refer to him as only Ray. He is too short for the title) was rather curt. But does that really matter, when you know that perhaps the idea for Maganlal came while someone stared at these very ceilings? The best friend and I were still going strong. Economics was being loved. Rhett Butler was discovered. And Atticus Finch. And Holden Caulfield. Prothom Alo was read. And dissected. And then, one started on Rabindranath. Eagles was encountered. And beatles.
Lennon 'imagined'. And so did I.


Life tomorrow....
.....will be hectic. Didir biye happening. Plethora of visitors. Saree and jewellery. Food, adda, tearful fairwells will certainly take up a lot of time. I also need to sort out some stuff, and start working on something. Really work, I mean.


Five locations I would love to run away to -
1. Nischchindipur.
2. Europe (Venice, Florence, Paris, London..you get the basic idea.)
3. Hogwarts.
4. Yellow Brick Road.
5. Someone's arms. :P


Five bad habits I have -
1. Procrastination.
2. Dreaming. About the unreachable, mostly.
3. I have major issues with trust.
4. I distinctly lack a backbone. Sometimes.
5. Did I mention procrastination?


Five things I would never wear -
1. Rani coloured anything. I bloody HATE it.
2. Lip stud.
3. Ankle length boots. I am short. Therefore, the boots would be like a one-way ticket to stumpydom.
4. Glittery, sequined flashy ANYTHING. I hate flashy. I detest flashy. I would rather be underdressed than overdressed. Get me a weird stone-studded top, and I shall puke on you. No, really.
5. Pink eyeshadow.


Five biggest joys at the moment.......
1. Earning. For the first time.
2. Certain newfound friends.
3. Fragile things.
4. Starmark next door.
5. Our Films, their Films.


Something to achieve by next year -
Love. Stability. A scholarship to Ox-bridge maybe? (Okay, that's seriously overdoing it.)


Something that impacted me last year -
Backstabbing. Let's not get into the gory details.


What I will miss about 2007 -
Literature of the English Revolution by Amlan Dasgupta.
Oly meets.
Late night conferences.
Her.


Five things I want to do before I die -
1. Experience Ox-bridge/ Harvard. Real life. And probably meet John Nash.
2. Dance. At the Royal Albert Hall.
3. Go snorkelling on the Great Barrier Reef. Hitchhike across Europe.
4. Work for BBC.
5. Find love. Bothsided. For good, this time.


I tag Sonai and Ugi. Go figure!

The Flat seems scarily like home now.

It still has a long way to go to come even close to the Old One. But someday, perhaps 10 years down the line, I see a faint possibility that it might.

That would be a day of much heartbreak, though. I am sure I shall end up feeling like a rootless idiot.

The 20th.

Picture courtesy: Saptarshi.

Mush.

Alexander Andrews: Oh, er, do you mind if I ask you a question, frankly? Do you love my daughter?

Peter Warne: Any guy that'd fall in love with your daughter ought to have his head examined.

Alexander Andrews: Now that's an evasion!

Peter Warne: She picked herself a perfect running mate - King Westley - the pill of the century! What she needs is a guy that'd take a sock at her once a day, whether it's coming to her or not. If you had half the brains you're supposed to have, you'd done it yourself, long ago.

Alexander Andrews: Do you love her?

Peter Warne: A normal human being couldn't live under the same roof with her without going nutty! She's my idea of nothing!

Alexander Andrews: I asked you a simple question! Do you love her?

Peter Warne: YES! But don't hold that against me, I'm a little screwy myself!




Tottttal awwwww-inducing. Ami puro sucker for mush types. Pink fluffy ball at heart.
Oh, for Clark Gable's unrumpled suit!
They don't make them like this anymore. :-(

Dhutteri shala.

Erpor theke sob cryptic likhbo. Two word posts.

One word too many, for a non-happening life.

Nyaka.

Premey porte chai. :-(