Miss. Eloquent

It's been a long time coming, but- It's you guys and me, that's my whole blog, They whisper in the comment section,  "She's a lazy, lazy girl" "She's a lazy, lazy girl"  Whoosh, "Welcome to The Blog!" While Taylor was busy in her Era's Tour, I was also busy with my Boards Tour. The difference? Well, she had fans screaming her name and sold-out stadiums, meanwhile I had invigilators glaring at me for daring to turn my head around, and a sold-out stock of erasers, desperately trying to erase my mistakes See, I have a solid alibi. I wasn't just being lazy. I was literally stu-dying.   The last two years gave me my life's best memories. Best people. And best place to hone my humour (not that I was successful). Moments are more fleeting than a sneeze. But its impression lasts longer than the red nose. My high school was a blend of all genre. I got friends who made me laugh to death and teachers who resurrected me ...

  "এমন দেশটি কোথাও খুঁজে পাবে নাকো তুমি।" The air I am breathing today is the same old one. But there is something new too, yes the smell of freedom. The birds on the trees are cooing, there is a sweet silence prevailing amidst the clouds, and our freedom can be heard decibles louder than the heartbeats of the leaders wading through the crowds. Today feels like a Kishore Kumar's song your father sang to you as a kid but now you only remember the faint tunes of it.  Today is India's 77th Independence Day. So, we have a very special guest accompanying us in this auspicious day--- our beloved Maa aka Mother India. *throws rose petals* Adrika:  It is my privilege to interview you. Let's start with the questions. But before we dive into the topics, may I ask – how are you feeling today, Maa, seeing your daughter take an interview? India: Oh, dear Adrika, you've touched a chord there. It's like watching my little girl put on her grown-up shoes for ...

I had this conversation with my bestie. So I had to write. But yeah, I missed my blog too. She: You literally have written poem about a chalk to our teachers, but NONE ABOUT ME? And you still dare to use my Victoria Secret?! Me: *unable to process the magnitude of the sentence* Uho . I'll surely write one. *sprays some more in the bag too* She: *intense glaring..trynna be the sasta version of my mother* Better hurry up otherwise you can't touch that perfume ever. I  "literally" mean it! And weeks passed and passed. I finally wrote it. Not because of her, obviously for my precious Victoria Secret. Lame me. So here I present you that piece of poem which have every strings attached. The sun shines again after the storm outside the little apartment in Kolkata,  windows wide open, I stand in there, filling my eyes with first shower of sunrays,  I see that windchime making a soft tune,  “forever” etched lightly in it.  And memories flushed.  Do you remember it?...

Of the total population of 7.9 billion, only 1834 people read me(well, the germs around, read me too) and this gives me so much happiness. When I first started blogging, I didn't have any idea how to do that, so I decided to post my poetry. But still, I felt something was missing. I couldn't find myself on those posts. (don't assume that my earlier posts were written by ghost Adrika. It was me only ^__^) And then all of a sudden, my little grey cells stirred up and I asked it, "hey brain, would you collaborate with me to spice up my posts?" Luckily she agreed, and tada I'm here trying to entertain you guys with my rotten humor (lol). You may wonder, why this girl is making us bore by talking about this. My friends, please don't think that cuz I don't have an answer for it myself. Maybe that is what happens when you forget that your bookmark section has something called "Blogger". You forget how to blog. You start rambling. You start using emo...

Yesterday, I stumbled across a huge pile of notebooks. (Seriously, that hoard of notebooks was capturing my space for keeping a few newly arrived books).  I couldn't make head or tail of most of the writings. But at the time those were written, my heart pumped with pride. When, the girl got back her sixth sense pride collapsed like a pricked balloon. After a lot of "I-want-to-keep-them", I picked each of those and stacked them in my storage room. (My mind fluctuates a lot!) Later that afternoon, when an image of those beautiful notebooks flooded my thoughts I decided to have a sneak peek inside them. After all, they once accompanied my gloomy hours. So, my dear viewers, INHALE. EXHALE AND BEHOLD.