The Bengali Chic

Vividly wild it was to meet her. Her lips painted grudge brown, blue streaks in her pitch black hair stood out like crevices emanating light amidst the clouds. The amber in her eyes were brought out from the blue eyeliner she had on.  She sat across me on the couch, not taking any notice of the spellbound stupor that I fell in, by simply gazing at her.  She adjusted the crop jacket she had on. Green; I would have liked red on her. Was she aware of it ?  I reprimanded myself internally and asked her if she’d like some coffee. She looked at me, unconsciously biting her lower lip and said , “If you’re making it, then sure.” I could barely take my eyes off of her. Has she always been this beautiful ? Her doe eyes, with her eyeliner embarking on the subtle crease of her eye, almost aligning with the brown birth mark that she has always had on her face, right above her eyebrows.  Amidst reminiscing the days of the past and enjoying her presence, I felt her slowly hunching ...

Like a distant memory,  It seems a little faded away, The warmth of the skin, And the smirk of joy on his face. How can I forget those splendid moments? The thumb pressing through my shoulders; The fingers twirling my hair; The shine in the eyes, The legs pressing my thighs.  Like he owned every inch of me; Through my skin; To my lips. Like a prolonged chain of reactions aroused, With his hands on my thigh. It's the touch of his skin; That keeps me calm; It's the warmth in his eyes, That keeps me bright. The way his lips turn into a smile, Whenever I pass by, The way his face glows up like the sky, Whenever I stand by his side. It's the touch of his presence,  Beside my body, That helps me breathe. It's his hand on my waist, That keeps me from falling.  The way he holds my hand, As we walk to my house, Like my cells sending messages, "Please don't let this die". I wonder if it's him, That I'm crazy about, Or is it his unfettered kindness, That tell...

How often do we undergo self-realization? For you, I don't know but for me, I try to self analyze myself every day as to how kind or evil I have been. And to my utmost truthfulness, it turns out that I'm a sensitive person.  I reckon how I've listened to numerous stories of other's success and heartbreaks. But very rarely I see people express themselves in words when they're in love. I find it rather foolish to define pain with such sincerity and just hide away the happiness and butterflies of being in love.  I remember asking my late grandma whether she loved grandpa (nana ji). And I was waiting for an extraordinary reply but to my surprise, her answer was rather very satisfying. She told me that she didn't find the reason to label the feelings she had for grandpa as Love, for it felt very restricting. She said, what she felt for grandpa was affection, care, concern, trust, respect, anger and whatnot. But despite a mixture of such feelings she was very well ass...

6:30am- Her phone rang continuously in a row while she slept like she hasn't slept for a week. After 25mins she realised that her phone has been ringing. She peeked in the phone with one eye open and the brightness killing the little sleep in the corner of her eyes. 12 missed calls from 💗. She called back, "Hello" (in a sleepy distorted voice). From the other side, "Dude, I have been calling you for decades, I came to meet you, I'm going to the Maggie point, will be back in 20mins, better be ready at the college gate." (Call cuts) She is trying to figure out what just happened. Kept the phone aside and slept.  5 mins later, "Shit, he is coming!!" Talking to herself she hurried out of the bed, brushed her teeth and washed her face. Trying to fix her hair she zoned out.  * Flashback * Thinking about the last time how she had oil in her hair and wearing pyjamas she walked to meet him and he still so adored by her couldn't stop but pull her cheeks...

Some days I sit ideally listening to my playlist and reminiscing some good old memories.  Drunk nights, dancing till I'm out of breath, singing my heart out with my friends, laughing on silly drunk movies, sitting at the cliff sipping beer, laying on the beach and letting the waves calm my mind, listening to the life stories to complete strangers while sitting on the car roof, walking home after a late-night movie and roleplaying, stargazing while sipping coffee on a cold winter night with river water playing the perfect background music. It makes me happy and I feel I've lived my life purposefully so far. Then there are memories that make my heart flutter, memories of long hugs, irreplaceable smile, playful dances, forehead kisses and that one name that could give me the longest butterflies. The sensational peace and happiness which overwhelms me to the core.  "Those butterflies, damn those butterflies!!" Pritha Krishna

Into the forest of diversified thoughts and creepers of regrets, We all entangled ourselves, From the truth, we feared the most. Likewise, I knew What I was stepping into. The moment the aroma of the lustful dreams Crept through my nose. I was willing to do anything, To get to the source of it; The temptation was too strong to resent, It crept through my skin, Pulling me towards the The density of forgetfulness. While I grovel through the misty forest, Making my way through the green chandeliers, Filled with passion and perseverance, I reached the end, It was a dream so real, That reality seemed to have faded; Into the fog of delusion. Pritha Krishna

Cloudy nights snuggled up in her bed,  a weird sensation ran through her skin, like thorns pinching her finger and roses slowly caressing her pain off,  like hot coffee kissing her lips,  like the water droplets touching her skin on a rainy day; She felt embellished with memories, A spree of emotions puddled up right before her eyes, She was taken back to those days where the sun shone brighter with every smile, Where sitting under the sunlight was warmer, holding hands and hugging him felt peaceful. A smile bloomed on her face, as a flashback of memories ran before her, As she meticulously embraces herself through the virtual reality, the alarm goes off, Wide awake to a reality of subtleties. Pritha Krishna