Noting the Stories of Another Land/Dream Journal

Since I’ve been thinking of dreams and imaginations a lot these days, I’ve decided to keep a dream journal from now on. I don’t know what else gonna come up, but I am definitely going to share the more interesting stuff with all.

The concept of lucid dreaming is finally enticing me. So I’ve decided to give it a shot in near future. But before that, I need to get in practice for some dream recording disciplines. So, this is my first step.

My blogs are shorter than a leprechaun’s pinky these days. The reason is, I’m still due a blog about a real deal, and I’m piling all the information and sleeping like a bear all day long. I hate myself for that, I just wish I could become an early bird like normal human beings. Help me out please, would ya?


The Book I Have Lost and Never Found

(Since I’m on the 2nd day of my precious procrastinating streak, I’ll just try something different!)

I’ll just write about the books I’ve lost and never found, not even a copy in any bookstores. They’ve just vanished.

Of course, those colorful books from Soviet Raduga publications would be the first on list. Well they have been for a long time. Unless some individuals with really kind heart have unearthed their copies, scanned and uploaded them in a site. Well it’s not technically illegal. Also, they are only in our native language, Bengali. So now I have full access to those portals of childhood.

The current topper of that list is an old fairy tale book my aunt gave me on my 7th birthday. It was called “Thakurmar Jhuli” (Granny’s bag of fairy tales). Supposedly books of that title contains native fairy tales where princes save damsels in distress from evil witches.


It was actually Brother Grim’s fairy tales written in our Bengali cultural background.

Hansel and Gretel became “Hashu and Chhana” – two sibling left in the woods by their family and captured by a witch in gingerbread house (though it wasn’t gingerbread, but a house made of a local dessert called “shondesh”)

Then we had Snow White and Red Rose who became “Borfi and Golapi” – Borfi meant white as snow and Golapi meant pink.

Rapunzel was called “Keshoboti” – the girl with long luscious hair.

The Gingerbread Man was “Pitha Pooli” – one kind of local cake we eat made from flour, oil and sugar.

The esteemed Town musicians of Bremen became “Gobbu gnayer gayok dol” or a band of musicians from the village Gobbu.

But the most favorite of mine was “Kujo ghora” , which was adapted from a Russian tale “The Humpbacked Horse”.

Oh how I wish to get the book in any bookstore around the world! If someone can find it. PLEASE DO LET ME KNOW!

Procrastination/Last minute job

I was supposed to write a blog as I do everyday. But today I’m procrastinating. I finally reached the bottom of the pit!


But there is a good sign. From now on, anything else I do is an improvement!

I’m going to write a better blog in a few hours. There will be two blogs tomorrow!


(bugger off you lazy pile of shite -_-)

My WEIRDEST Dream/Flying Polymer


This is about my dreams. Things I commonly have in my dreams and weird things related to it.

Mostly I dream about being chased. From five legged spiders to bad guys in black ninja masks, someone is always chasing me! Often I gain superhuman strength (well, relatively, I am not really VERY STRONG person). So, basically most of my dreams are just another cat and mouse run. I can’t recall any that they are not. And most of them takes place in my old house, that I mentioned earlier.

Sometimes the location is different, but that’s always temporary. Like that one time, I dreamed I am a hired bodyguard for someone I never saw (I literally never saw my principal(the person I’m supposed to protect) in the dream, that person was faceless). And I was in a studio apartment, always scanning people on the street. There was a distinct table with red and white striped umbrella downstairs. And my friend would have tea there every morning (I don’t know from here she comes). One day I go downstairs, AND KATANA FIGHT ENSUES! The other day, I dreamed about being hunted by bad guys and in the end me and another friend took shelter in the old house where I used to live. But the bad guys found us there and they managed to shoot my friend with poison dart in head. His head dropped on my lap and I could see another dart directed to me. I ducked my head and that’s all I remember.

But the WEIRDEST award should be given to this :

It started very normal. The timeline was probably during my 12th grade. I was taking physics tuition in an old building with few other friends. Our teacher was warning us about a weird “thing” that was instantly putting people in catatonic state. It was like a big flying polymer like thing. The tuition was dismissed early so we can go home before it gets dark. So, I was waiting for a bus, and I met a friend (well I didn’t know him then, we met at least five years later). Before we could even start talking, I saw something black looming from behind. And I screamed hard. Grabbed him by wrist and started running (it should have been otherwise, he is way thinner and at the same time taller than me, but I think the dream me was in charge(like I always like to be)). At one point he couldn’t run anymore and that flying polymer attacked him, and I tried to fight that thing with my backpack, well, my precious backpack turned into a lumpy polymer junk in a few seconds, and it grabbed him by back!
And he was turning into a black slippery polymer statue (the way it happens in sci-fi movies) and I was screaming and crying for help. Though nobody seemed to notice, as if we were invisible. I don’t know what occurred to me, BUT I GRABBED HIM BY HEAD AND STARTED MAKING OUT VIGOROUSLY!
(So, the flying polymer is scared of awkwardness)

Like all the “knights in shining armor: modern edition” in movies, I instantly turned into a “Flying polymer” slayer and started running round the streets for no reason. Actually I managed to entice his/her highness flying polymer and I was the target since then -_-. And I met that friend couple of times and had to “save him” -_-
(Dear weirdest dream, next time present yourself with some more logical facts! Like if the polymer slayer was the new target, shouldn’t she’s supposed to be “saved”?)
Till this day I am not sure, was it my subconscious sexual frustration that I never went to any bases with anyone or was it lack of proper zombie movies in my life that made me dream of such weird stuff!
Because, the whole making out thing was so fvcking real! It sounds really perverted, but I think that is how real making out works! GAAAH! I think I know the taste of his oral odor (yes, that GROSS AND REAL!)
In a way, that dream left me scarred. For a while I was quite uncomfortable around that friend of mine (even virtually), even I unfollowed him in facebook! (Like it’s a fvcking big deal!).

Sorry mate!

And if you have put your patience in ultimate test by deciding to read this blog up to this point, thank Rhett and Link as well. -_-

The idea of today’s blog came from this video :3

Well, I think I better look up for the shreds of sanity and self respect (was that appropriate?) left scattered in the universe, while you people finally close the tab.


More Laments/Sad Saturdays

I ran out of things to write about. What’s the best thing to write about when you don’t have anything else to write about? I think it’s a tie between a) writing more about how you cannot find enough time to write about things and  b) random thoughts that cross your mind.

I choose b.

The first thing I could think of is, how unsuccessful and left behind I am from my peers in college. And I’m feeling an enormous bloody guilt about it. People who were better than me are skyrocketing, I have no problem with that. BUT PEOPLE WHO WERE NOT, their success gives me a bummer. Yes, I am being honest. My jealous little bean of a soul is burning with guilt and agony for procrastinating. For letting my skills and talents go and not working hard enough. Also for going far away from the organized and discipline person I was. And I find it infuriating that THERE IS NO GOING BACK. There is no restart button for it. I have to bear my failure ALL MY LIFE. In an honest way, I’m at least 3 years behind. I am 3 years unsuccessful in my own bloody standards. I am a total failure. I cannot function properly, I am a disgrace. I know there are life coaches out there, who help people like me. But I don’t know any of them or cannot afford them. So here I am, rotting in my own guilt dumpster.

The second thought is a little more brightening. The peers who are successful, are not happy with themselves either. Everyone is in a rush. There is no stopping. No taking a moment to have a look around. Everything must be planned, even the vacations and hangouts. Everything is organized beforehand. Everyone is in a constant anxiety to make sure everything is right. Boy! I should be grateful that I still have the time to enjoy and have a moment to enjoy. Well, basically that’s all I’m doing right now. I hope I will find a balance. I honestly want to do something that I love and make a decent living doing it. WHICH IS HARD MY FRIEND. VERY FVCKING HARD -_-

However, I have a third thing in my mind. I’m thinking of setting an online gameplan. I will set a few goals for every day and upon accomplishing, report those. ALL OF IT WILL BE DONE IN THE BLOG. Since this blogging thing went well (so far) for a week, hopefully that will go well too. I will post the details tomorrow.

(Even I don’t like my blog today! -_- There’s nothing in it to touch other people’s soul. Baa!)

But folks, you are better than me! And you guys are probably doing things that is doing greater good to humankind. So folks, DON’T FORGET TO BE AWESOME \m/

Embodiment of Pure Love/Jason Becker

Ever listened to Jason Becker‘s Altitudes? If not, PLEASE do buy the album Perpetual Burn and listen to it. PLEASE. I beg you. Then you will feel how this maestro can wring your innermost deepest emotions with his guitar.

I mentioned Jason because tonight I’m feeling very empty, selfish, unproductive and unsuccessful. So I wanted to talk about someone I love, respect and consider an inspiration. And how that person inspires me. The first name popped in my mind is Jason Becker.

I am too small and unworthy to write a short bio of Jason. So I won’t even try. You can visit the wikipedia link for that. All I want to say is, Jason Becker is a talented human being with heart of gold. He is made of 24-carat pure love. An insanely talented human being, whose passion for music transcended the barriers of ALS. He has been battling with ALS for more than two decades. But that didn’t stop him.

I don’t think I need to mention at this point that Jason is a heavy metal guitarist and composer (but I did it anyway). I can’t remember anymore, when exactly I fell in love with the most purest spirit of this man’s creativity, BUT I’M GLAD THAT I DID! Before talking about how he has made my miserable like a little more bearable, I’ll have to say something about his passion. As I have mentioned before, he has been living with ALS for two decades, yet he managed to compose music using software when ALS barred guitars and keyboards from him!

Since I’m in constant despair, I’m always bolestered by creative people’s endeavors. Books, music, acting, humor – help me to survive my constant sadness. BUT JASON IS SPECIAL. He is someone my emotions converse with. His works talk to my emotions, reveals a different universe to my emotions, that gives me ideas of moving forward. Jason Becker is, as Paulo Coelho says, a warrior of light for me.

Jason I love you. I wish I could do something to make you happy. I’m still trying to figure a way out how to offer a tribute to the pure love you have shown me through your work.

For the rest of you great human being out there, I present you with a trailer of a documentary about dear Jason. It’s titled Jason Becker: NOT DEAD YET. Yes, that title breaks my heart every time I read. But it is beautiful. You can purchase the full documentary from here.

I can’t guarantee a tear free time. But it’s beautiful. I’m sorry, this selfish git (me) is really emotional today. But you nice human beings out there, DON’T FORGET TO BE AWESOME \m/


Scattered Thoughts and Periodic Depression/Let’s Focus on “NOT ME”

I wrote that title probably 3 hours prior to writing the contents. AND BOY I TELL YA I AM REALLY NOT FEELING LIKE WRITING ANYTHING NOW!

But I have committed myself to it and I will write a blog each day as I promised. I also stated before that I will write about my sudden fear attacks whenever I will feel it. So, LET’S BLOODY TALK ABOUT THAT X_X

I am scared, AGAIN. The thing started with a premonition that I had in late afternoon. Followed by learning that my dad had a little chest pain around afternoon while he was resting (today is a public holiday here), probably due to acidity and took an omeprazole tablet in the evening. BUT RIGHT AFTER LEARNING THAT MY HEAD WENT CRAZY. I tried to avoid the thoughts and to distract myself randomly binge watched some old GMM videos. But it didn’t help much either. The fear would come back, with an occasional guilt that I am enjoying funny video while my dad is in pain. The surge of bad to worse cases are marching towards my brain and attacking it like a pack of wolves upon a sheep. And I am in a very miserable place right now. I don’t know how to get out of it like I never know, until next morning (well it is 2:41 am here now) and probably will go back to bed by 5:30 am and will wake up around 1:00 pm. A bad routine, I KNOW, but it has become a part of my life. Because I’m scared of something every night, if it’s not my dad’s physical condition, then it is about not getting the dream job, or achieving the skills I wanted to or for not having enough creativity. I am unable to control my fears and emotions when nobody is watching. And I can’t open up about it to anyone because people (especially family) think that I am making it up. I talked about it before. I am a pathetic, jealous, stupid, lazy procrastinator who does not do anything other than complaining. And I cannot break the cycle because I am too scared to do something drastic and break a habit. Because a twisted part of my brain says THIS HABITS ARE NECESSARY IF YOU DON’T WANT WORSE THINGS TO HAPPEN X_X

I think that was the “Periodic Thoughts” part of the title.

AND THAT BRINGS US TO THE NEXT PART OF TITLE. Focusing on “NOT ME”. I started this blog to write about stuff, but all did so far was whining about my unsuccessful sad sad life. I’m always highlighting myself too much. And I believe the reason behind it is: I DON’T APPRECIATE THE PERSON I AM RIGHT NOW. I HATE THIS FREAK. That is why I cannot focus on the finer things or anything else that is happening around and need to be mentioned. It is a weakness that I am ashamed of BIG TIMES. And I profusely apologize for that.

I wish I could find a way out of this shit. Can anyone suggest any help?


Where is my love?

Well isn’t that a question that is being asked by at least hundreds of human beings at this very bloody moment?

When I say love, even I’m not sure what the heck I’m talking about. Is it romantic love? Love and respect from family and friends? Love of general people (or in honest words, FAME), or a less than judgmental look from that five legged spider couple who are making sweet love under the washbasin when I’m taking a dump IN MY DREAM.

I’m not sure which one I’m longing for. I technically never dated a human, lady or man. Nada. And I have no regrets. I don’t know why. I’ve only felt REAL emotional-physical attraction, in other words known as “crush” towards an individual ONCE! It was in college and I could never talk to that person until our graduation night and I think we spoke like two sentences. Well, in my defense, that person was in a relationship when I had that enormous crush, though later the relationship did not work out and currently that person isn’t in any (romantic) relationship. BUT SOMEHOW I AM NOT THE SAME PERSON ANYMORE. The whole surge of emotions subsided, along with the physical attraction I felt. I will have to say, that person is still very attractive and is a nice human being. And we are friends now (well I’ll use the word “friends” loosely) but those agonies of longing ARE OVER! Now I think that person was a muse to me, more like a creative inspiration, a notion of something that I cannot have but desire reverently. I think I have found other creative inspirations (not necessarily humans) and other kind of creative urges, or probably have lost my creative voice, so I’ve stopped feeling the need for that person. You can call me selfish and weird creep. I won’t argue, BECAUSE I THINK THE SAME.

In regard of family, those who love me, love me, those who can’t, don’t. I’m totally okay with the whole thing. Given I was one of the first kids of our generation, I was always subjected to a lot of scrutiny and sarcasms. I think I have learned to live with it. I think that is why I cannot take complements, and sometimes lack of harsh remarks or sarcasm regarding my actions (that result in success) makes me doubt the accuracy of my craft. Thank you family. You have given me one of the best gifts a person deserves!

I have a lot of friends and a very few friends at the same time. I’m discrete but friendly, so I somehow make “friends” with lot of people but I hardly interact with them in personal level. That doesn’t mean I am insensitive or rude, I’m nice and I mean it. I just don’t delve deep generally. BUT I HAVE A PACK OF FRIENDS, WHO ARE LIKE MY HORCRUXES. We are like siblings from different families. I think I receive and reciprocate a stream of pure love with them. In this sad sad life of mine, they are my beam of happiness. They will call on my bullshit if I’m off-track, BUT THEY WILL HAVE MY BACK AND BOLESTAR THIS SAD CARCASS THAT ONCE WAS ME WITH LIFE FORCE WHEN I RUN OUT OF IT.

And I’m a very private person. If someone pops out of blue and tell me that they appreciate me for being the person I am and doing something that I did , I would be genuinely scare. BECAUSE THERE IS NO WAY FOR OTHERS TO LEARN ABOUT MY WEIRD ACTIVITIES (or do I even “do” anything meaningful ever?).

However, I am still not sure if I want to be loved by others. Because I can’t decide how much I love myself, I mean THIS version of me. Sometimes I think I do love myself, I mean enough to let others love me for the person I am. But the rest of the time I think I should make out with a dementor for procrastinating like a stupid humanoid.

Sigh, I wanted to talk about love and ended up commenting about my lazy lifestyle and lack of discipline! Everything I do now ends up here. I think I should go back to the question, WHERE IS MY FUCKING SANITY?

Don’t forget to be awesome you wonderful people, just because I’m struggling hard to be one. \m/

Witnessing the Past

Today I’m going to talk (or write) about a particular hobby (or habit) of mine. Exploring (or ogling at) old buildings.

I was born in an old building, a part of which was built in probably early 50’s, and the part my family resided was built in late 70’s or early 80’s. My family stayed there from 1987 to 2002. We lived in the ground floor, where not a single ray of sunlight would dare to make an appearance.

old new paltan home

This is the google map image of the front side of our old house in 2013. The tin-shed part was built in 1997, here only the front view (the older part) of ground floor can be seen, the newer part of ground floor is in the back and that part is five-storied.

However, the older part was demolished two years ago and probably is converted to an industrial building or warehouse.

our old house demolished This was the picture of demolished site of the older part. Our old neighbor snapped the photo. The Word “Market” is actually “Market View”, as this building was very close (walking distance) to a local marketplace. 

So, growing up in an old house was like a constant adventure for a toddler. The older houses are grand, mysterious and have some messages to forward (to the ones who are worthy \m/).  I would always climb to the storage room, which was build upon the false ceiling of two washrooms. The ceilings were so high that we had a wooden ladder to reach that storage room. And I would spend a lot of time there, rummaging through old stuff that our family had over there, along with the old pipes and light sockets.

Living in an old house also prepared me and my brother to accept (if not overcome) the fear of critters, specially the fear of spiders. We would always be hosting a spider or two in our washrooms, splaying their eight digits wide all over the walls or under washbasins. They would hide inside umbrellas sometimes, and might surprise us by running into our arms (maybe they just wanted a hug), when we were about to open the umbrella. I learned how to kill a rat when I was like four years old. And I mean with a certain weapon, not mere mousetrap. We had a wooden spear, locally known as “Balukhocha” (Or literally “Sand poker”, a spear like thing that construction workers use to do some stuff with sand, I don’t know what exactly though). The task is to attack a running rat’s neck with the tip of spear. And I aced at the first try. It might sound violent and a bad parenting decision. But I like to believe that it was a wonderful survival exercise as well as a way of overcoming strange fears.

I was an observant child, so growing up in that house, I was always observing the patterns of doors, windows and ceilings of our house and how they were different from the other more recently built houses in the neighborhood, also the other flats of our building. Because the rest of the flats were built after a decade of construction of our floor.

I’m pretty sure that I am always attracted to old buildings because they remind me of my childhood. Whether it is an abandoned building, about to be demolished or a place where people still live, I always find myself attracted to those. Sometimes I take a longer route to home from different points of the city to steal the view of a few older buildings. I thought it was just me, but I’m glad that it’s not.

One of my most favorite authors, Mr. David Morrell has shown us in his famous book Creepers that, “urban exploring” is a real deal. People do explore older, abandoned city buildings out of curiosity. I wish I could find the urban explorers in the city where I live, because I’m pretty sure, I’m not the only one crazy about the old buildings and the very time specific patterns in those. I have singled out a few buildings where nobody lives but a caretaker, I’m pretty sure those buildings will be converted into malls and apartment buildings. The beautiful swing windows stained with memories will be replaced by sterile and functional sliding ones. The mosaics will be replaced with ceramic tiles and the front and backyards will turn into concrete garage space.

ALL I WANT TO TAKE A LOOK AT THOSE BUILDINGS, INSIDE AND OUT! Pity the buildings if not me, give them one last chance to whisper their messages to someone else.

Where is my sanity?

Well, here I am. To lament about something I don’t know yet. I was intending to write about something. Something related to my constant companion, who goes by the name of “fear”.

Fear is a very general term to describe my companion. It is the fear of things happening to me or my family that I can’t help imagining. Things that would happen if I don’t do things I think I should be doing and if I do things I should not be doing.
I know the whole thing sounds confusing and weird. But believe me, IT FUCKING ISN’T.

In the beginning, I tried to ignore it. I was rewarded with coincidental bad buzzes that scarred me for life and tattooed the “fear” to my brain.
Then I decided to give in. I’ve stopped doing a heck lot of things I enjoyed, I’ve started doing strange things that might not appear very bizarre, because they are pretty normal. but doing those in a ritualistic way feels quite weird and unnatural.

The problem is, this didn’t make bad things stop happening, it’s just I feel less guilty when they happen.

The whole thing is affecting me in a bad way. I’ve been like this for last 3 to 4 years. And it’s never getting any better. So in the end, I decided to live with it, but not focusing on it. Which is definitely hypocritical. Because I am doing exactly the same thing, just without admitting that I’m doing it. And it’s something I just can’t get rid of. I wanted to take some professional help, which costs both money and more of my very limited amount of peace of mind, because my family believe that it is just an elaborate act of mine to avoid the “responsibilities of grown-up life”. I think I will be stuck in this vicious cycle until my head explodes.


So, from now on I express. I scream my fears out from this secret (really? who am I kidding?) window, I write about it. Whenever I find those fears gnawing under my cerebral cortex (probably not the right term, I am not good at biology, but good enough to know when I am wrong), I (will be) write(ing) about it. At least some people will know it WAS NOT AN ACT. People will know I wasn’t lying when I said I was scared. When I started panicking or decided to go to sleep in middle of a busy day because I was overpowered by the fear and had no other ways to shut off my bloody brain.

I really a bloody switch to shut my brain off when I need. Or at least the chance to scream this as loud as I can!