How lucky my friend that our ways crossed! We could have continued to be strangers for the rest of our lives, had it not been for this fortuitous event. You arrived at this inn that I check into every so often. It’s a cosy little joint let me assure you. The hosts are friendly and the guests I have come across appear to be charming people to say the least.
So, as they say, Welcome Aboard!
What do I do here? Ah! Nice question indeed. You know what? I write stories. I compose poems. I translate stuff into English too, mostly from Bengali and Japanese. Sometimes I move in the reverse direction too. Bengali happens to be my mother tongue and Japanese is a language I fell in love with.
I travel a lot too. Cyberly speaking, if you know what I mean.
By the time you are as old as I am, you tend to repeat yourself. Don’t be surprised therefore if you find me trying to engage you in similar conversations, sometimes at least, at different halting stations.
The list of my favourite inns will lengthen over time. I am reasonably sure that I shall be adding to it every now and then. I have plans you see. One of these concerns students who wish to learn economics. I am in dire need of a classroom. Didn’t I tell you about a nomadic trait in me? Poetry, story AND economics. Oh yes, I am mad-ly no-mad-ic good friend. Read “Who’s Me?” below if you want to find out how I sublimated to this state of existence.
I write for the printed media too and one day I hope to transfer a few of these compositions over to a niche or the other. I am searching for one that fits my bill and will let you know about it when I discover it. But I am a slow builder and I have just about started to chalk out a plan. If my everlasting dream is fulfilled, you’ll probably get to know even without any prompting from me.
Since I write in Bengali too, I would obviously love to welcome you to my Bengali blogs. They are listed to your left along with the English blogs.
But here is a parting message. Like Shelley’s cloud, I often “arise and unbuild” the things I pieced together with loving care. I need to rend them asunder every now and then, or else how will the ” orbèd maiden” that “mortals call the Moon” walk in through the yawning chasms and make us hear the “beat of her silent feet”?
To: Who’s Me?
The Bengali compositions in this site are best read with Firefox.