from Childe Harold, Canto iii, Verse 45, By Lord Byron

he who ascends to mountain-tops shall find
The loftiest peaks most wrapt in clouds and snow;
He who surpasses or subdues mankind,
Must look down on the hate of those below.
Though high above the sun of glory glow,
And far beneath the earth and ocean spread,
Round him are icy rocks, and loudly blow
Contending tempests on his naked head.
And thus rewards the toils which to those summits led.


last night ... i received a sms from baba that gave me some hope again. fuel again. peace from fear again ... i love you 'sonababa'

i saw "somethings gotta give" last night. and i fell in love with it. some of my fav lines from the movie ...

am i (going) mad or does this happen to everyone? they say before you die - or when u know u might ... the scenes from your past life flash by you. like that when i know im moving camp - or may be - the scenes from life there flash past in my mind. and when there is no other process going on i get random flashes of anywhere anytime. like one of those screensavers which pick random snaps from "my pictures". flashes of the past float past my brain. im scared. i dont wanna go. not yet. pls pls pls god not yet.

green pleated skirts (6 inches above the knee) and dark blue blazers in the nursery park
begging the ice cream man for a "orange-stick" ... just in case ... u never know ... just bcz he refused to give " one free" for 6 years doesnt mean he has to say no again ... ("johhny pls - give no - 1 please - free - please no!" "johhny pls - give no - 1 please - free - please no!" "johhny pls - give no - 1 please - free - please no!" in an endless litany) till the bell rings for class again

zeecones on those funny stairs near tuck-shop
mint fudge. chatts acting pricey on squad duty
sauce waltzing off for piano class and the rest of us trailing in her path with wistful eyes as we are stuck in SUPW class ...

first day of socials (was it prize day ... ?) in lawrence hall ... the boyz school band - and twisting by the pool ... (u'll always be my hero)

"footpaths" like heat radiators ... sqatting at the edge ... watching the "grown ups" of ten and above play in their groups

aimlessly loitering the roads of the "para" ... trying to find how my paths there could be between southern avenue and kabir rd and the lakes. walking past the begging of the "lake" ... a pool of mud and the mudmen playing mudball ... football practise in the rain

the smell of kaali bari near chona's house. the flashy here now gone now smile of the basti kid i was so pally with in my old age. the smell of LSP. the khatiya outside sharma's ... the smell of the paneer tikka ... sitting there sloshed at 3am ... watching the string of roadside fires ... this queen wears rubies

the sea tartouse ... where you would have to periodically remind urself that other people exist in the world. dragging my "stick" in the sand ... the sunflowers "jungles" and the olive groves ... the total deep stillness and isolation. the beauty the bliss the addiction to isolation and quiet ... then? at 5?

my rowing club in bristolat dawn. foaming waves of mist above it. the pain in the small of the back. the sound of the woods around when u got back ... the bus station in bristol. the train in damascus. the sun in thailand. the smell of "chingri maachher mailai kaari" the feel of the "rupor thaala" used for birthdays. the sudden cool-th of ma's house, her hand, her cheeks.the feel of having less between ur arms every year when i go back to hug her ... my ma, my anchor, my axis and the fresh sponge feel of when I kiss munu. and the inbetween feel of mummy and the rough spike poky dunhillblacklabel flavoured feel of baba.and the first time i walk in and see papa's snap ...

Im scared of the decision Im weighing ... it would change Everything ... do i want to do it ... more importantly ... can I? is it too late? do I still have the strength in my knuckles to rap on this door? Am I not too old to scrap Everything and start again from fresh. Yes I suppose I am ... Ki re anirban?

on a different note ... how many times a day do u feel like saying "its none of ur f business" or "why dont u just leave me f alone" :) on a differenter note ... why do i still write in this stupid blog? im just "throwing questions into the big black void out there"