Thursday, March 10, 2022

Just me, just you

I have been in your arms before.
I have been rejected before 
by you.
I've still loved you
and you let me.
You wanted me to
for nobody else would.

Why would anybody?
You are gorgeous,
you seduce.
Nobody wants that.

They hate you.
You hear me?
They hate you so much.

I love you.
Only I.
Only I can.
Only I must.

But you,
you sadistic, mean whore. 
You don't want me.
You need me though.
I know you do.

You are missing out.
Be that way. 

For years, you have been a stranger.
For years, we have fucked.
For years, you have been lonely.
For years, you made me feel impotent.

But only I, only I love you.


---
All things rejected like Biprorshee

Monday, January 03, 2022

Intersection

 Two worlds

separated 

by time, 

space, 

intentions.


Held together by words.


Words that have given up 

on everybody. 

Words that have failed miserably

to give up.


They find each other. 

They embrace.

They dance. 


A dance so hopeless

and yet under several layers

is brimming with hope. 


A little mischief, a big secret,

these words, that dance. 


I extend my hand, you take it. 

We only have words to make love to. 


---

All things dance like Biprorshee

She

This speck of dirt,
take it.
Take it as you walk away.
Proud, unrepenting and broken
like you always have been.
Good for you.  

---
All things desert Biprorshee

Tuesday, February 12, 2019

I

Proud
and almost tall.

'Chest out, look straight'.
Done already.

Not a word to bear
in criticism.
I knew they didn't know any better.

They didn't know me. I did.

The eyes, the hair, the voice.
All gifts. All gifted.

Now, as I stand. Naked
in this room.

And it's so dark.
I turn around to look.
The mirror doesn't know of any truth to tell.

--
All things unknown to Biprorshee

Monday, January 11, 2016

Rahul Dravid: Putting the ‘Gentleman’ in the Gentleman’s Game

Published first and written for: BookMyShow


There was a time when it wasn't the coolest thing to be a Rahul Dravid worshipper for an Indian cricket fan. It's true! There was a time when you even heard stuff like “Who Dravid?”. It's true! 

It was a time not very different from now when Indian cricket began and ended with singing praises of just one man - Sachin Tendulkar. It was a time when the soon-to-be “best Indian captain ever” – Sourav Ganguly - (debatable but then I am a Bengali) was beginning to chalk out his conquest plan. It was when this unassuming batsman from Karnataka began his journey too. And very impressively so. Nonetheless, it was a tad too early for the Archies Galleries of the country to stock Rahul Dravid posters. I tried though and not before long, I had a room with a wall dedicated to The Wall (I am sorry. I just had to say this) – unofficial bad quality posters, painfully sourced official ones, newspaper cuttings, magazine covers and the works. 



When Ganguly was impressing all and sundry with his century on Test debut in England that June of 1996, I found my hero in Dravid who fell short of being the other Indian debutant to crack a ton by just five runs. It was to perhaps mark two things that stuck with Dravid almost throughout his career – the man who played second fiddle and that man who would inevitably get out in the 90s. Gradually and thankfully, the latter was forgotten. 

There was something about the way this man faced some of the most fearsome bowlers, there was something about the way he pulled an Allan Donald-bouncer to the boundary, gracefully danced down the wicket and hit Muralitharan out of the park or hit those picture-perfect cover drives. There was a grace that back then I only found and admired in the almost flawless batting of Saeed Anwar. 

Two innings of Dravid's will forever stay with me; those drove me unashamedly to tears were his 145 in 129 balls against Sri Lanka in Taunton, England (ICC World Cup 1999) and the 180 he scored in the mammoth and very heroic 376-run stand with VVS Laxman against Australia in Eden Gardens, Kolkata in the second Test of the 2000-01 Border-Gavaskar Trophy. Each time, the “hero” was not him. Ganguly with his 183 in 158 deliveries was the Man of the Match against Sri Lanka. No one will dare to forget Laxman's knock of 281 in THAT Test Match. What was that bit about second fiddle again? 



Dravid even went ahead to say how Laxman's innings made him feel inadequate, embarrassed even. Typical of him. To take nothing away from either Ganguly or Laxman but it took two to tango and if the Wall wasn't being the Wall in each innings, history would have been very different surely.  

I discovered like the rest of the world how there was more than mere batting artistry that made Rahul Dravid the legend that he is. He defined in every sense what being a 'team player' is all about. Whether being shuffled up and down the batting order, keeping wickets to accommodate an extra batsman in the side, or even captaining a troubled team, Dravid was up to every challenge his side threw at him. 

There is a class about Dravid's cricket and character, you didn't find lying loose everywhere. You won't either for a long time to come. 

Ever since the man called it a day, there has been a favorite idea of the online content folks on every birthday of Dravid's – Quotes on Rahul Dravid that add to his greatness. Of course, there will be tributes. There better be. But there is just the one by Harsha Bhogle that sums up the cricketer and the man he is - “The wolf who lived for the pack”. Oh boy, he did!

Happy birthday, Rahul Dravid. There will never be another like you.

---
All things heroic like Rahul Dravid


Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Vestigial

The heart doesn't feel,
the skin does;
the head spins
till it gets heavier
than the tear;
the stomach churns
and throws up all it doesn't want,
all it doesn't have;
the legs get weak,
weaker than the shoulders;
the eyes get drowsy
to sleep forever;
the arms could fall off
but the fingers hold them together
irresponsibly.

The heart doesn't feel
but wants all credit,
all freedom
to break, to lament.

The heart doesn't break
but lies
to hide its impotence.

Overrated piece of shit!

---
Nothing hearty, bright or beautiful




Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Sea Snake

One step a minute.
Two minutes to think,
to remember, to worry,
to ignore. 

One step a minute.
Forward.
Three immediately back.
In fear. 

What do I fear today?
The water? Like always?
No. 
I fear you.
That you wish to pull apart
my skin.
My skin put together with patches, 
you beautifully sewed
to perfection.
My skin, you almost made real.

At the seams, you pull. 
You pull hard but slow.
Clever, clever. 
Like everything perfect,
this must be slow.
Agony must be slow.
Only noodles is instant.

I fear you. 
As you slowly undress me.
You know what lies underneath.
I don't. I forgot.
I fear you. I hate you. 
This skin was your gift 
to me. 
And now you want it back. 

My lie, my lie, Ma.
Mine. 
Why does she want everything back?

One step a minute.
And I look behind at the trail.
While you fade.
Quicker
than I can walk away from you.

One step a minute.
And the sea must swallow
all of me.
And vomit
in the morning.
Will you come back
to the beach? To collect
what is yours.
I owe you some dirt.



---
All things wither and Biprorshee


 

Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Rainbow Scarf

Those eyes
I know they all fell in love
with them.
And no one saw what you hid?
An unbuttoned shirt is a fine cover.

The hair untied
bounced, 
delightfully.
No joy hidden.

When you made love
Lennon smiled.
Maybe even proudly.

And when He slashed an ear
you giggled.
I would've loved it, you know?
To hear you giggle.
Sexually.

I know you laughed
as you drove a knife through a pig.
The rainbow head in a trance
And those eyes.
Those eyes everybody loved. I loved. 
White. 
And then red. Drinking blood.

You sang.
You danced. 
Jumped.
Before them all, you sang
and laughed.
Did they think you are mad?

But such hate 
you hid so mischievously.
From yourself. So fiercely.
They never had a chance.
They were blinded. People.
They wanted to hate you. Failed,
so miserably.

And when you loved them
without the rainbow,
it was just too late.
Now they had learnt to hide
everything.

I loved you.
Even when you shouted
you had no mercy.
I didn't believe you one bit.
Could you kill christ? No!
He didn't care 
to see you die.
He let you rot
and laughed.

Everybody fooled you.
Stupid.


---
All things merciful and Biprorshee