Biography of arpita QQQ
Born in a quiet nook of the wide world, I have spent twenty three years in search of a greater meaning to this life, in vain. Life shines forth in optimism and I reach out to touch her.
Just a regular nobody in love with college campuses, writing lyrical poetry, indulging in deep reverie through and through classroom lectures, not being fussy about food and being fussy about certain other things. Trying to find some clarity in my life, sorting out complexities in life and being irrationally, hopelessly excited about the future.
Here I am standing at the threshold of my life waiting to cross over to the next world and although everything is still murky, it is tingling with possibilities. There is hope, there are dreams, there are a hundred visions and revisions of a life that is yet to come. Maybe there will never be a break, and like always the past and the present will merge in to each other. And yet inspite of such fears I cannot fail to acknowledge that there is something special, something ineffable that waits for us as the future. I want to take a leap of faith and plunge in to that new world, breathing in its novelty, its harshness and its levity. The future seduces me and I cannot resist its charms and its endearing quality. I do not know what lies ahead but I feel this feverish excitement - a feeling that surpasses happiness or pain or anger or loneliness, its a rush of adrenaline, a madness of thought and feeling, wanting to jump headlong into all that is yet to come.
arpita QQQ Poems
I still have nine hours to go, Wish time would stop or go real slow, Thats the pile I have to read, Before even considering sleep.
A Funny Incident
Knocking at the door, In the middle of the night, At half past four When i switched off the light
She follows me wherever i go, Reflecting each mood as they come As they go- Unceasing, untiring, unwavering
Year Of The Potato
Fritter, fry or boil, you may, There's nothing like a potato today. Cheapest veggie you can buy, Purchase big bags without a sigh!
Often on the road of life, I’ve found a friend or two. Who stand by me for a while, And help me figure through.
The Prufrock In Me
This city of joy, of mirth, of life. Oh Delhi! I return to your womb with memories of a coffee bar bell. Spun over hours of idle talk and banter Of laughter and restraint emotions, heart pell-mell.
An Ode To A Friend
Of friendship and a pseudo room mate What do I have to say? Except that forever I d be around When she needs me night or day!
Here i am, another week, another day Wondering, how some more of that time has slipped away. Here i am, just a body, one among so many, That is tossed upon the sands, like a nickle, like a penny.
Butterflies upon their wings, Fluttering as angels sing. Blossoms swaying in the breeze, With careless mirth of a reckless tease.
For The Boy With The Nose
Met him at a party last week, A man of manners and sapience deep. But what struck me most, About our very cordial host.
A Funny Incident
Knocking at the door,
In the middle of the night,
At half past four
When i switched off the light
Came five little goblins
With red satin caps
A basket full of clanging tins
And strange coloured maps.