Showing posts with label Dhaka winter-spring-summer-rain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dhaka winter-spring-summer-rain. Show all posts

Being of Heaven and Earth

Saturday, October 22, 2011

It’s raining after ages. Trickling and tapping on the window pane, while I sit in the drawing room with curtains drawn inwards to the open verandah. And the wind, oh my the wind. Mmm how long have I waited for this wind? Quite long. The time long yearning has turned me foolishly inarticulate of the improbable divinity all around me. I just wish it wasn’t dark out there, and I could meet the nimbus in the sunkissed sky exposing its diverged shapes that speaks to me. It has been a while since we two had a convo. Last time it spoke of a man with big long mustache who coughed unmannerly and grew thunders. I called him Thor en mustachioed. To sustain his propriety he apologized by bestowing an illuminated arc of coloured light in the sky. And I called it rainbow. I wish for another rainbow, I wish for another rain, in another time, may be tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, and the day after that, when the sky is still sunkissed, and the smell of hot morning tea hovers over the fresh scent of cool rain. I want more such days, more such nights. Because I am in love, and I am in love with my name. 


I am a being of Heaven and Earth, of thunder and lightning, of rain and wind, of the galaxies. 

Winter Drug

Monday, February 7, 2011
Growing up in Dhaka I remember winter that stretched till February, and a spring which could easily be distinguished from summer. Now winters come and go in a week, and rest of the year is Summer with drops of monsoon in between. Winter and rainy season, these two have always been my favourites. I love winter because of its power to provide me the senses of comfort achieved after much longing. Before I explain this there's something else I think I should allege. I have a tendency to make myself long for something I have been desiring to have, and when the longing becomes long enough to tear up my sensory faculty and the want takes a complete control over me, only then I approach towards having the thing I have so badly been yearning for. It’s a drug of my creation and I get ecstatic every time I reach the end of it. I try to do it everyday, I don’t eat unless I am starving, I don’t sleep until I am half dead and I don’t call unless I miss someone a little too much. All the same there are very few scopes to endeavour this drug. I cannot apply it to every situation as much as I’d want to. But winter gives me that scope. There’s nothing better than pulling all the covers around and snuggling under soft comforters right after being miserable in cold for as long as I can take it (while not coming upon the level to catch a flu). Everyone in my house keeps on asking me (of which I am now irritated) that how do I roam around my place wearing the same semi ragged tops and shorts (yes I am attached to my old torn clothes and you have no idea how comfortable they are!) all year round and I think the question should be why. If I am home I'd never let mama or anyone make my bed because the warmth attained in an entire night will then be gone, and so my dose of drug is always ready waiting for me to snuggle in and to let me feel my ecstasy. My late night showers, torn clothes, lunch and dinner (I feel awfully cold after having anything heavy) becomes much more exciting in winter. So there, I said it, not that it might matter to anyone, but I said it why is it that I love winter so much. Next time someone points towards my torn clothes, I'll point them towards this blog post.

'Nuff said, not in the mood to write about the other favourite. Let rainy season come, I am sure there will be an entry on it.