Pens and Pages

“Are you a lesbian?” A friend of mine once asked me mockingly when we were discussing about my aversion from some (“some” not “all”) kind of men. “No. But does it matter?” I asked her scornfully. No, I wasn’t bothered that I was asked a question about my sexuality. But what I didn’t understand was that is being a lesbian a matter to be jeered about? What if I was one? Wouldn’t I be hurt and embarrassed that my sexuality was just mocked at? Why are the words “gay” or “lesbian” used as slangs? Another incident, that took place a couple of years back, was when I was teasing two girl friends of mine, accusing them of having an affair. I considered it as normal as teasing a guy and a girl. One of them found it so disrespectful that she, instead of simply denying the fact, chided that she isn’t of such “third class” standard. I later discussed the small argument that we had, with her, trying to make my point that being a lesbian or a transgender doesn’t define anyone’s cla

What if money weren't an object? Would we be together then, In some faraway land? Or would we work till late night, Just like we do every time? And would we say we love our jobs, as much as we love our sidelines? Would we spend so little time, with friends, as we do now? What if money didn't matter? Would we let the childhood dreams shatter?

Your love is like a glass of wine it's always less than I ask for, its always more than I deserve, your love is like the ring on my finger I am embellished by its glint, It is admired now and again, It may not be commemorated at all times, but I will be incomplete, with a void if it's lost..

And I wonder if it makes sense, thinking about you,  and for so long.. I wonder if they mean anything your talks of love and pain.. I wonder if it's for me what you write, so dearly.. and I wonder if it makes sense, waiting for you, and for so long.. I wonder if you think about me While laughing with your friends I wonder if you remember me And how we used to be And I wonder if it makes sense, Crying for you, and for so long..

Guatemala. The word was ringing in my ears when I saw the tiny green plants growing proudly in the fields unaware of the fact that they will be soon removed for the cultivation of another plant, for which they were grown in the first place.  The lands near the road from Moranhat, a small town in the eastern part of Assam in the Dibrugarh district, to Kathalguri ( Kathal meaning Jackfruit in Assamese) were mostly devoted to the cultivation of Tea.  Assam is known for the black tea it produces, commonly known as “breakfast” tea or simply Assam Tea. Green and white teas are also grown in the state although in smaller quantities. Almost half of the tea produced in the state comes from Dibrugarh. On the right side of the road lied the green fields filled with tea shrubs, all of the same height, with a few trees growing amidst the neatly columned shrubs to cater shade to them.  Some fields had tea plants that were almost a hundred years old, as told by my friends who

We pretend so perfectly that nothing happened, but hell yes, it was a wild night.. and it's fun to see nobody knew.. even the stars didn't see it too.. and in the woods we stayed till late.. wrapped in your arms, 'twas a date.. and yes, it was that wild night.. and we don't know each other today.. and the moon pretends he didn't hear.. the sounds of pleasure that were made.. showering those kisses of lust.. and we pretend we know not what love is,.. and the smell of the flowers that bloomed that night reminds me so much of you tonight but all I know is, it wasn't love.. all it was, just another wild night... ;-)

I wrote... in love, in happiness, in bliss... I wrote.. when it was divine to love and be loved... I wrote.. when you left.. I wrote.. being hurt, in pain, in agony.. I wrote.. when it was heartrending to be left... I don't write anymore.. My blog, it's destitute of emotions..  for I don't feel you anymore..  love has left, so has pain.. and I don't even know you anymore..  and my heart, it's numb today..

Nice effort by  John Abraham  to act.. better than whats expected of him..  commendable performance by  Prachi Desai  , coming out of her comfort zone of being "shy and sweet" to someone who is feisty .. Chitrangada Singh  looked as suave and chic as she always does, but seems like she was typecasted as all her characters played in the movies she was a part of, were comparatively similar.. Raima Sen  played her character well but she along with  Sameer Soni seemed barely necessary in the movie and they didn't have much to contribute. they are not to be blamed and we know that .. nice and plausible story.. poor screenplay.. the first few minutes were fun..rest were enjoyable in bits and pieces.. good for a one-time watch.. conclusion- could have been better!

A National Poetry Competition was on for a period of around 4-5 months organised by  Wiz Konect .. My poem got selected as one of the top-picks to be published in this anthology.. and when you read my poem you will know why it's named as such (so not poetically).. Read the entire poem in my blog -  http:// sanhitabaruah9.blogspot.in/ 2012/06/four-foul-ups.html or in the blog of Wizkonect - http:// womenoscopeindia.blogspot.i n/2012/07/ the-four-foul-sanhita-barua h.html