sriparnagogoi sriparnagogoi

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Sriparna Gogoi  Helu, it's me

Hated rains all my adolescent existence only to have conflicted emotions about the same one fine day in the August of 2018.

The Triveni Confluere (@tri_logue) is the three of us, Aranee Sen (@enigmatic_verse ), Amrita Sandhu (@amrita.san ) and I. Around two weeks ago, a very dear friend @theradioloudquasar suggested that I should at least start writing more frequently, and publishing them somewhere, anywhere. I brushed it aside like I do with most things, in the garb of apprehension and underconfidence. But the thought struck a chord I hadn't had the courage to strum to. So I kept mulling over it for days at end. But the bottom line is, the three of us agreed to take this on, together, perhaps only trying to cancel and neutralise each others' perplexing sense of strain.
This page is not about me, Aranee or Amrita. It's not JUST about literature, or our tendency to find comfort in silence or reverie. It is about everything in between and around the same. It's about the randomness and quandary of life and qualms and joy and grief. We cannot guarantee your affection toward what we'll share, but perhaps we can promise to understand the very distinction and uniqueness of thoughts and prayers, yours and ours.
Happy reading.

📸- TK

managing my feed because the rest is getting manhandled.

At the backdrop of "aru ebar daat nikotai hahile gutei keita bhangi dim"
Which, translates to the melodious voice of Manoj Tiwari singing Rinkiya ke papa hi hi hi hi hans delen.

Only staring outside because there is a very beautiful cow outside @_bhaskardutta's window.
And because @raginibordoloi taught me how to use snapseed and I still missed it.

Disappointment part 2.

Some of my favorite prints on fabric.

@anusheelaghosh and my mom are the only people who ask me to model for pictures and since one picture took 20 mins, the latter has now officially given up on me.

Special mention to Jishnu Dutta who very graciously tried to remove my dark circles.

Like I was saying, type A and B, all meddled up.

3.
There's very little for me to say at this point, about this picture, about my mother and the fact that despite all that she has achieved, there's a slight hesitation about her when she wants to put something forward into the world of social media. She halts, checks what is going up, rechecks and then asks either my father or me.
Sometimes it cracks me up, seeing her nervous about validation/criticism that I am familiar with so here I stoop, and study the universality of the need for acceptance acorss generations.

I've always had a type.

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