The Poetry Of Light


The last ray of sunshine at the dawn of Dusk,

Setting afire her burning eyes,

The only way, the livid rage of her soul could ever transpire.

That was the last evening that we spent,

But sometimes I still remember:

The morning breeze in her hair,

While she stared out at the Sun with her lovely gaze

I remained astounded by her beautiful dimples in the daylight daze,

Her rosy cheeks and auburn hair,

illuminated by the sunny glare.

I still remember those days I spent with her,

She told me;

Do you see?

From the azure of the sky,

the green shades of the grassy blades,

To the wispy white clouds up-high,

A luminosity of shining colours…

That’s the brilliant poem,

The poetry of light.


What’s on my mind.


When we think of ‘commitment phobia’, what do we assume? We assume a guy who doesn’t want to settle down with the girl he’s been dating for the last fifteen years. But is it possible that there is some other version of it? What about the plans we refuse to make, the plans that we make and hope someone cancels it so we don’t have to do the tricky job of calling it off.  What about the girl who is too nervous to put work into something that is not self-satisfaction based, the girl who only wants to live a hassle-free, organized-messy life with her time left all to herself. A person to who gets a metaphorical anxiety attack when she realizes that this is going to a lot of work. Is this a commitment phobic person?  I think, yes.

I, for one, am the girl who is so nervous about every little decision I make. I don’t second-guess myself, but I fear the outcome. For someone who wants nothing more than to be a success , expending time and energy of something that may/may not have a positive outcome seems like too big a leap of faith. Anxiety is over brimming my consciousness…but what can you do? You have to do what you promised to do.

All I hope for is that I do not end up with something stagnant and futile. Anxiety and commitment phobia…a little too heady an intoxication.

Freud For Rookies 


Sigmund Freud, the Austrian psychiatrist (who thought heroin was a great medicinal drug) was the propounder of the Psychodynamic School of Thought. Psychology is a very creative and freakish subject which emphasizes on objectivity but it as a subject is totally subjective. It’s philosophical, scientific and so much more. 

His first theory was the structural theory of mind, you know…that Id, Ego and Superego thing? Fun fact: you know in movies or sitcoms when the protagonist has a moral dilemma and wonders if he should study or blow off school and play truant…and then the angel and the devil appear on his opposite shoulders ?  It’s actually the comic representation of the structural theory of Freud; where the guy is Ego, the angel is the Superego and Id is obviously the devil.

  1. Id is guided by the pleasure principal, so this part of the mind is basically a whiny child who screams and shouts till she gets what she wants. 
  2. Ego is the moderator /connector between the two extremes. The boy who wants to skip class and catch a movie but can’t because he knows he has to get into a good college.
  3. The Superego , the angel…the structure that is responsible for making us responsible. It’s because of our Superego that we can’t decide which restaurant to go to, which dress to wear or what to text back.

The next theory is the topographical theory of the mind. Three levels of the mind: Conscious , Subconscious and Unconscious. This is fairly well known throughout the techniverse, this and Maslow’s hierarchy.

The third and most interesting theory proposed by him is the Psychosexual theory. According to this theory, our childhood can be divided into five stages:

  1. Oral stage: the stage when we are about a year old. When we love putting things in our mouth. 
  2. Anal stage: from ages 1-3, this is the time of toilet training. This the period when we explore our feces. Yes, you read correctly. Apparently this feels good at that age.
  3. Phallic stage : ages 3-6, we have a weird unconscious desire to sexually conquer the parent of the opposite sex. Or the same sex incase of gay people, I don’t know because Freud didn’t know gay people back then. So incase you are attempting to conquer your mom, you start mimicking you dad…which seems adorable on the outside but is actually very creepy if you think about it. I guess, some people don’t go through this stage at, they turn out asexual.
  4. Latency: 6- adolescence , the age of cooties, same-sex mingling and herd mentality. The only period where a person is not doing something odd.
  5. Genital: 18-adulthood, the age of intimacy, sexual relations and other stuff that is marketed by the advertisements.

    Freud also gave us the concept of dream analysis but that’s just hocus-pocus for right now. The most hilariously flawed concept is of “Penis Envy” and “Phallic Rage”: according to this women hate men because they have a penis and women don’t…lol,right?

    So while Freud’s the awesomest psychologist ever, he was in someways  a weird dude.

    Why It Is imperative To Have a Bucket List


    Eric Erikson, a neo-freudian gave the eight stages of psychosocial development that starts from the womb and ends in the tomb. He said that at the last stage when we’re 65+ we face either of the two things: Despair or peace. He says that the ones who fall under the category of despair are the ones who believe that they haven’t got any memories, any experience to be proud or fond of. Andthought drives them in to despondence, the thought of having lived a fruitless and unfulfilled life. That’s the reason they fear death. Majority of the population experiences the fear of death…the fear of living a life of stagnation and pointlessness. A life with no outcome, of being a person who never made a difference. I for one am not quite afraid of death, and no, I haven’t lived a very fulfilling life considering my life just started. But I do fear the pain of it…does it hurt when the rope snaps one’s neck? It must be uncomfortable to be strangled to death. 

    So coming to the point why one needs to have a bucket list: it’s not possible for all of us to live a gala life but we are capable of forming grand memories to summarize our lives as a satisfying and rewarding one. So plan stuff, go to movies , try adventure sports, go trekking and try different food, make new acquaintances and spend some time helping a lost individual…do a random act of kindness. Ergo, my point is: try hard, be curious and have a fun so that you don’t die sad.

    Calcutta, Kolkata


    Kolkata, India. The place where I was born and brought up. The land of illish maach, roshogollas and Rabindranath Tagore. A world away from another. This city is versatility in its most dignified outfit. A foodie’s paradise. Forget the eclairs and pastries, let me open your eyes to Kalakand, Gurer Jalbhora and Mishti Doi.

    We, Bengali people, absolutely adore food. Be it tandoori chicken, Kung Pao chicken or Coq au Vin, Kolkata has every cuisine known to man. Apart from the scrumptious delicacies, we have music. Sitar, harmonium and tabla: creating the most amazing sounds, almost as good as a Violin Concerto, if not better. Gritty yet so charismatic, she’s beguiling, my city.

    Forget Uber and taxi cabs. The city boasts of trams, metros and rickshaws. Sitting on a Phaeton while you traverse the grounds of The Victoria Memorial, a spectacular scene of greenery all around. Cricket matches at the Eden Gardens, boating below the Howrah Bridge. Puja shopping at New Market and Goriahaat, when Kolkata is dressed in Autumn. The ambiance of South Calcutta, the liveliness and the heritage of the North. Pandal hopping and street food, dancing to the beats of a drum before the Idol of Durga Ma and her children. Christmas in Park Street, New Year’s eve in Peter Cat. Oh, Kolkata is wonderful!

    A city  enriched with culture, a city called home to three Nobel Laureates. The old world charm of Dalhousie,  the murals of Sealdah. The ghats of River Ganges…all illuminating this place with such brilliance.

    A city so homely. Trust me when I say you’ll never feel left out here. A city full of festivals and friendly people. She’s someone who will entice you when you least expect it. She’s traditional but she’s modern. She’s beautifully bejeweled with astonishing architecture. Loves literature and films. She is a bit of a hipster, but a very nice one. She’s the ultimate friend.

    No, not everything about this place is bright and shiny. Actually far from it, every silver lining has a cloud. She maybe the perfect background setting for your stories but her own tale is a bad one. There was a time when she was the belle of the ball, flourishing and thriving. Intellectualism and modernity began with her. But that didn’t last, though she tries to stay happy…she is broken. Broken with how she seems like a dead end to the youth, unhappy with the fact that her career is rollercoaster that only goes down. Her beauty tainted by politics and crime. She secretly fears that someday she’ll become obsolete and no one will remember her.

    But she still hopes, hopes for a better future. A future where she’s been restored her old glory. Nevertheless Kolkata still loves you , and you can’t help but love her back.

    So visit sometime. I promise you’ll like her.

    Pizza, My Precious


    My mother and I fought yesterday. Two good things came out of it. First, I got inspiration for a new post and second, I blackmailed my mother into buying me pizza. Fighting, then writing and reading blog posts made me hungry and tired. Pizza, yummy…isn’t it?

    A cheesy pizza, covered with chicken, olives and capsicum. A parmesan and mascarpone clad, divine piece of heaven. Imagine the spiciness, the sourness from the olive and the pickles. The deliciously cooked pieces of sausage. Caramelized onion on that soft, fluffy bread. Imagine taking a bite into it, sipping a bit of that fizzy drink from the glass of Pepsi next to you. The perfect texture of magic dancing on your palette. The taste of love inside your mouth. I’m salivating, you?

    My mother suggested Indian Cuisine, she wanted to get Naan and Paneer butter masala, but my blood craved pizza. Pizza Hut had an offer going on about letting us have two medium pizzas at the cost of one. All my cards had lined up or so it seemed. I was too busy frowning and pouting to call Pizza Hut, she was going to have to do it. She called three pizza places, all PHD outlets. It seemed like they delivered everywhere except our locality. Fate seemed hell bent on slimming me down. We asked the phone guy to tell us the outlet that would deliver for us. You won’t believe what he said! He said no!

    He totally deserved the scolding he got from my mom. When all hope seemed lost, my mother remembered the place that would deliver pizza to our block. Hallelujah! I broke out into song and dance. Did a bit of gangnam style, whipped and nae-nae’ed. It was hilarious.

    With baited breath, I waited for the pizza delivery guy. Stood on the balcony wondering: Pizza guy, where art thou? Then after forty-five minutes which seemed like an eternity, the pizza arrived.

    And I feasted on them. Following which I had extremely sound sleep, quite unusual for me. A great night indeed.



    Pride and Prejudice


    One of the literary masterpieces by Jane Austen, a.k.a the classic novel that has elevated the expectations of women worldwide giving them the hope of meeting someone like “Mr. Darcy”. A book published in 1813, which has still maintained its popularity through out the generations. The plot is about the lives of Elizabeth and Jane Bennett stuck in a house with a dysfunctional family. A mother obsessed about getting her daughters married, a father too aloof to bother with such hysteria and three sisters of the most assorted personalities. What happens when you throw in a two handsome,eligible bachelors into the mix?

    The story, although simple, highlights the morality and poor conditions of women during Austen’s time. During that century, all they thought about was their dowry, finding a wealthy groom and popping out little babes. The Bennett family didn’t have any connections, neither did their daughters have even the shadow of an inheritance. But that didn’t deter Mrs. Bennett, on the contrary, she presented her daughters like a money-grubbing salesperson pitches his best products. The three sisters, Lydia ( the bad influence), Kitty ( the copycat) and Mary ( too intelligent for her time, therefore, the oddball) were younger and extremely different from Jane and Lizzie. Lydia and Kitty  were a duo, they remained attached at the hip and Kitty followed Lydia’s example who didn’t give a damn about anything except looks and boys. Mary was different and, thereby, alone and ignored.

    Jane and Lizzie describe the two categories of girls. Jane is the calm, docile, reserved beauty while Lizzie is opinionated, vociferous and witty. Both these characters strike a chord with us. The book deals with the lives of these young women surrounded by the issues of betrayal, humiliation, judgement and rejection. The feelings common to all of us. The story still remains so identifiable that it has been adapted into serials and many movies, with these adaptations graced by stars such as Colin Firth, Kiera Knightly etc. The brilliance of this story is that while it is about the love of Lizzie & Darcy, Jane & Bingley and the unfortunate marriage of Lydia and Wickham, the tale is foremostly about women, by a woman, for women.

    Yes, the book is about Darcy’s and the upper-class’s prejudiced views of everyone who is not one of them, and Lizzie’s pride ( hurt by Darcy’s haughty air and his unkind remarks about her looks and family) with the subplots of The Wicked Wickham, Mr. Collins and his patronizing patron. But that is not what I want you to focus on…this is more than just a romantic classic, this gives us insight into the bias of aristocracy and the downtrodden position of women in society. So contemplate that.

    My Suggestion: Read the book.