What is Life?

Is it breath, is it hunger,

Is it the presence of joy or anger?

Is it fire, or is it air?

Is it dark, or is it fair?

What is life?

They tell me life is a timespan

When was it that life began?

They tell me life ends in death

But is life just a feeble breath?

What is life?

The green in the meadows, the shine in the stream,

Is it all life, or is life just a dream?

If this is a dream, then what is true?

Is there a life, whose dream we pursue?

If that is true, when shall we rise?

What shall we see when we open our eyes?

What is life?

I wonder, if life is a myth that God has created

Then He cannot be alive, so, is God dead?

If life and death were made, what existed before the two?

If afterlife exists, is there an ‘afterdeath’ too?

Sometimes I wonder, if I am alive, then one day I must die;

What will I see then, what world, will appear before my eye?

What is life?

The blush in a loved face, is it life?

The sparkle in fireflies, is it life?

The magic of a lullaby, is it life?

The glow of a sunset, is it life?

Or is it the mundane gait of everyday,

The wind in trees, the tide in a bay?

The wetness in a teardrop, the brightness of a smile

Or the profoundness in a moment, the brevity in a mile.

What is life?

They tell me life is a journey, where are we going to?

If we are going somewhere, we must belong somewhere too.

If we’re going to heaven, where were we until now?

Why did we leave that place, was it unpleasant somehow?

Why do we all the ravages of time endure?

If we know that life is a journey for sure?

Why then does this question occur to me again and again:

Why then, do I ask, had it been in vain—

What is life?

Digital Death

I’m walking down the deserted alleys of binary digits.  A dull gray sky filled with clouds of scattered pixels looms over me.  Zeroes and Ones flock around my existence—more zeroes than ones—perhaps in this digital world, like things come together more than unlike.  Walking further down the broken circuits, I find all deleted data regenerating itself—mostly letters, and ellipsis…

Last login years ago

13.2 Megabytes

Of lost memory

The server has been out of order for a long time now.  All folders scanned with utmost precision—no viruses found!  Yet the wizard complains repeatedly, “system error suspected”.  Perhaps the deleted files have stung the memory and made it corrupt.

And yet, all you will see in me is the living corpse of an untamed monster, growling and gnawing at the chains of lost memory that bind its limbs to the pressure-sensitive film cage—virtually choking to death among integrated circuits that toll the death knell of its encryption.

System clock reads 00:00

Smothered cries

Of a JPEG file…

Granny

It was getting dark as I hurried past the bakery, into the dark, almost desolate alley that led to my rented room in Campbell street. As I was passing, a whiff of wind blew the fragrance of a freshly made chocolate mousse towards me. “Here’s a helping of nicey tasty chocolatey chocolate mousse for princess Roselle!” Granny said as she placed the bone china platter before me. I attacked it instantly, and within minutes, the platter was bare, and my little mouth bordered with chocolate. “Excuse me, could you please clear the way?” An elderly man coughed as I realised I was blocking the pavement. “I’m sorry.” I moaned, and resumed the slow, weary walk back to the place I now called ‘home’.

Lost dollhouse in tears

A February evening

Déjà vu returns

She died of a heart attack two years back. All that remains is this reminiscence that still lingers within my heart. Wherever I go, she will always live in my heart. Those neat little pigtails she’d make out of my hair, those fairytales she told me every night, those lullabyes, delicious cakes, cookies, brownies, the little blankets, cowls and sweaters she used to knit for me…everything seems just as alive as I am in this moment. Where did those paper boats sail away? When did the snowflakes melt? I wonder if she misses me from heaven, but I wish I could hold her hand once more.

Broken mason jar

Fireflies still hover at night

The chill of summer.

My Musical Journey

I can't give you the exact minute when I first started loving music. It has been in my genes ever since I was born. But yes, the nurturing of my musical senses began with my mom's lullabies. I used to make requests for this song and that when she would take me to bed. That was the beginning.

Ever since then, music has been an integral part of my life. I began singing even before I learnt to speak properly. And my personal budding as a singer began when I first performed. That was a marvelous experience.

In school, I always used to bag the first prize in singing competitions. There have been a few rare occasions, of course, when I went unrewarded. Nevertheless, a roaring applause was always awarded to me after every performance that I gave.

In the year 2007, I first auditioned for Sa Re Ga Ma Pa (Zee Bangla), where I was not selected. It was a lesson, though. The following year, I auditioned for ETV Bangla Tarana where I was a finalist, but had to quit since I had been called to Mumbai for my training and final auditions of Sa Re Ga Ma Pa L'il Champs 2009. I was among the top 54 candidates. But then, I got two horrible attacks of viral fever, which led to a bad and sore throat, which deterred me from giving my best and being among the top 12. But those 15 days at the SRGMP academy were a lifetime asset for me.

Locally too, I have achieved quite a bit of awards. State level prizes in Bhupen Hazarika, Jayanta Hazarika, Parbati Prasad songs and various other genres of songs adorn my showcase. Though the trophies are not with me (since they are running trophies) I have accumulated quite a bit of prize money all by myself.

Although my musical career has been more of achievements, my view of music is independent of whether I get anything in return or not. I believe music is catharsis for the soul. For me, experimentation, crazy improvisations, and appreciation of the beauty of music has been the prime cause of being involved in it. I love ghazals, thumri, jazz, opera and all sorts of classical music. I am crazy for songs sung by Hariharan, Sonu Nigam, Shreya Ghoshal, Michael Jackson. But honestly, I am more inclined to ghazals than anything else. I love the subtleness of the lyrics and the way the qafiya is set. The rules of ghazal are in themselves appreciable. Shayars like Ghalib, Momin, Shahid and Rashid are my personal favorites. Music has a bigger meaning for me. It doesn't mean completing my B.Mus degree and then getting so theoretical about it that I forget the soul of music. I think music should be listened, drunk, absorbed and let flow on. It is something to be felt rather than heard.

My First Day in School, and thereafter...

I was three and a half when I was admitted to Sacred Heart Montessori School. I was neatly clad in a white shirt and navy blue box pleated skirt, and a red tie embroidered with 'SHM', the logo of the school.
There were two antennae (ponytails) on my head and I looked absolutely adorable. I remember I had boiled rice, vegetables and a boiled egg with butter for breakfast. Then I was laden with my satchel and water bottle, and dad took me to school. I was amused at the sight of the place. Neat and clean, and so very colorful!

Dad took me to the gate and some sisters led me in. I went into the class "Montessori-D" I was shown a seat by the class teacher, Miss Rani. There, I saw boys and girls of my size, oh so tiny! I remember I was happy to be there but most other children cried and cried like anything. To them, school was like a jail. I even told some of them not to cry, how cute of me! *chuckle*

I made friends very quickly. Khushboo, Vishaal, Deepak, Srijana, Priyanka, Dipan, and Prasanna, to list those I remember. I had regular quarrels with Prasanna on ice-creams and lollipops, and we used to do the extreme outshine attempts to prove ourselves better than each other. I used to sit with Deepak, who was a curly haired boy, and I used to trouble him a lot. We had sleeping periods in school, when we had to put our heads down and sleep while the teacher stood guard. I remember I used to poke and tickle Deepak. Poor boy, he used to cry and I used to get scolded by Miss Rani. I loved to cuddle Khushboo, as she resembled one of my dolls. but she didn't seem to like it much. Nevertheless, I had a lovely bunch of friends in Montessori.

There was a fancy dress competition in this school, and I dressed up as a 'sister' (a Catholic nun). I won the first prize too! All my teachers loved me because I was the only child who spoke in English with a bit of fluency when all the others never spoke in English. Well, my dad is credible for that. He used to teach me to speak in English on the way to school and back home. I was THE most popular student in that school.

Oh, Sunny Days!

My First Stage Performance

I remember I was roughly 2 years and a few months old when there was a cultural fest here at the district library auditorium. That day, my mom woke me up very early in the morning, bathed me and dressed me up in a red bordered white saree which was specially ordered for me. It was just my size. I still remember some glimpses of the hall. A huge crowd, a black screen on the stage with a banner, an announcer at the podium, marigold garlands hanging everywhere...

My name was called. I was so young I didn't even know what exactly was happening. My dad took me onto the stage.

I sat on his lap and he told me to start singing. I sang a song from Tagore, "Maya Bono Biharini Horini". I remember when I finished singing the song, I said "tet"( 'sesh' in Bengali, translating to 'finished'), and all of the audience roared with laughter.

That was my first performance. Ever since then, I don't remember how many performances I have given. All I remember is, there hasn't been a single performance when people have not applauded heartily. It's more than bliss for me, you know, more than bliss.