Somewhere at the airport, lost in time and with nothing to do is when I realize the words that have welled and swelled up inside me over the past few months. It's been ages since I wrote. Checked back at my blog today and realized the last post was in August. Yeah, then. Writing was...probably, yes probably still is my passion and my blog, my confidante. I doubt myself because I barely get time to write these days.
Come to think of it, why did I start writing in the first place? I daydreamed all day long. Two hour travelling time alone makes you do such things. Well, that and my mind was always an adventure to me. I close my eyes and I'm off to middle-earth, battling orcs and crazed dragons, firing up energy in the mere palms of my hands and blocking out immense balls of fire shot at me by wizards from lands unknown. Then there were the more real situations...not so real too probably because I like to put myself in movies that I love, be it the romantic Sound of Music, hilarious Home Alone, fist pumping fast paced Bruce Lee tourneys or a plain action packed guns-ablaze flick to entertain. Yeah, I'm my own hero. There's a thousand different worlds in my mind, all connected by a single soul - me. With the flick of an eyelid I can travel between worlds, stop time, lift off into space, save the earth, win the hearts of a hundred damsels in distress. Just the same, I would be the one protecting my loved ones, losing out all in the end. I don't know..It's all in my head and they keep popping up sometime or the other. And that's why I started writing in the first place. These worlds, these friends and foes come to me and disappear quite as quickly as they come. The world between the flickering blurs of my dreams and reality is what I want to record. Remember as and when I please. Sometimes I try to fly and I cannot. I try hard. Really hard, yet I cannot. That used to happen in my world of childhood days. Now, I fly. But this I can remember, the stories where I wanted to fly, I cannot. The blur you find when you start to forget, I want to erase. That's why I started writing.
Thoughts are your own. They're supposed to be private. Sometimes you cannot voice your thoughts for reasons galore. They may come out in the form of actions, when you talk about it with someone you trust completely, sometimes they may not manifest at all. But those stories in your head? Ones where you think you can relate to, the ones you tend to remember after you wake up, or long after you've stopped thinking about them? They're those thoughts surfacing. I prefer to let them surface whenever they want. That's one way of keeping a straight head. Thinking rational. Writing them down, blogging for that matter, let me talk to that unseen face that listened, did not react. And when it reacted, there were a hundred different voices, some agreeing to what I say, some that countered, some that appreciated how I put my words, some, again, criticized. I enjoy sharing my thoughts without making sense of them on my own.
Back to the stories. Sometimes, especially at the end of the day, when I'm walking alone, taking a walk or just plain loitering, I think of people..the people around me...my friends, my family, the ones close to me. Even some not-so-close to me. Having that bit of time to yourself is a luxury these days. And many a times, those stories in my head form around what I feel should have been..what actions he/she should have taken. What I would have done had I been in his/her place. Is that really necessary? Why should I be bothered with what someone else does? Because I think it's good to learn. Analyze. That's my forte. Probably might be my undoing as well.
Is this piece incomplete? I'm not sure. I hope not..it's my thoughts, I tend to trail away as I have often done in the most crucial of situations. But that's just the reel in my head starting to play time and again. And it knows no time, no situations...it just plays whenever it wants to.
The single biggest thing that any Bengali event revolves around is FOOD! Be it a wedding or festival celebrations or just a simple family get-together, the first thing that your maashi (aunt) will ask when she enters the house will be, "Oooooooo! (in that pitch, tone and voice that you heard in your head right now), Great smell! What are you cooking??" And with that all the women of the house will make a beeline for the kitchen where my mother dearest will proceed to explain in detail how, what and how much of each dish she's cooking. Oh and also, offers of assisting and vigorous denials can be heard from the kitchen amidst the din that comes out of having a large congregation of Bengali mohila (ladies) at one confined place with food.
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