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Not blogging makes me fidgety with guilt. Yet scary words like stress, grief, depression have such crippling effect they
leave one gasping for air let alone sit and play with words.
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I hate rural Bengal. Or as a matter of fact, rural India. The paddy field, the log huts, the posters of B grade movie, hair
cutting saloon with bollywood hero’s face on the signboard, the absence of
taxis and blue-yellow public buses, the curious gaze of people. You name it and
I despise it.
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I don’t feel the same surge of excitement
standing on Howrah platform as much as I feel at the departure gate of Netaji
Subhas Airport. I might be a snob.
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A new movie song is showing the smalltown hero
is stalking his crush and clicking her pictures without her knowledge. No wonder our Indian men find it so hard to
take no for an answer. And then somehow ‘I have a boyfriend’ line becomes an
internet troll for girls who use it as last resort to get rid of
over-enthusiastic Romeos.
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Some people’s instagram accounts make you think
that their only job is to wear pretty clothes and travel to Europe or
Dharamshala. And may god bless their friends/spouses for being at their service
24x7.
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Going to work has become a tedious affair for
me. Especially when half my day is spent contemplating violent instances of
death that should befall my boss. Remember the movie Horrible Bosses? My condition
is almost similar to those three chaps now. But apparently, horrendous,
disgusting piece of shit people don’t die so easily.
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Long distance relationship is hard. And I mean
H.A.R.D. The gut wrenching feeling makes you cry under the shower, cranky for
no reason and leaves you hollow in the chest. The hollowness is so
overwhelming that it haunts you even in your sleep. At least for now I don’t know how to make
the nightmares stop.
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And in the end, writing is the best possible
catharsis I have, no matter how shit it is.
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