Thursday, December 24, 2009

The guava effect.

Air rights.

Jigsaw pieces.


Missing pink socks.



Shorter calls.



Fan clubs.

Twenty questions.


More walks.

Long calls.


Lucky hours.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

I look out of the window and the only thing I see (ignoring of course Gogo's giant structure in the making) is a slice of the sky. It's been a long time since I looked out of the window to watch the moon at night. It's become a long lost privilege. And then I look again and am struck by the checkered math book view of Gogo's structure. Every floor has a different story to say. A further progression towards completion. The wooden framework for the doors are in place while the walls are interestingly lacking. The structure already seems to moan while the iron rods hold the ceilings up. The top floor seems like the 'blissfully ignorant' kid still reaching out for the sky, its little fingers (read ugly looking iron rods jutting out) stretched out.
The voices and the clammer are now a part of my (our?) living reality. A metal hitting another wakes me up. A drill usually gives me company during my morning ablutions. The JCB struggling to move its goliath figure within a narrow space of five feet (that's all the space there is between the two buildings) forms the event of the day in my uneventful-but-needs-to-finish-a-lot-of-work life.

Monday, December 7, 2009

But, if only...

Christmas came in through the door last night with all the warmth and affection that one can expect, and even more, at a place far away from home.
If only.
Agree with PZ about missing those simple things of home.
The house filled with the smell of baking cake that mum makes in the old rusty aluminium oven. The smell of coffee going around in circles around the house. We spend the whole afternoon making my favourite fruit cakes with cherry and cashew toppings. Would give anything to be at that moment of time, right here right now.
But, if only...

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Stringing words together

An irritated but lazy morning. Nothing much (being the operative word) to read. A hay-wire auto trip. The first taste of the election chaos. Celebrity hopping, if I may call it. Clicks. Snaps. Meaningful conversations. Cozy dinners with close-knit friends. Life has so long been quite nice. But I am still watching out. And nowadays I am finding words more helpful.

Monday, November 16, 2009


Of laughter and morchaas. Status messages and much needed slumber. Cool profs and corrupt ones. Sounds and Goof ups. Facebook conversations and online cacophony. Gogo and crime master. Phew!!

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Last Man Falls

So the last man falls.... after so many trips to the various hospitals in Hyderabad, albeit none for my own health, I finally walked into the premises of good ol' KIMS - as a patient. It was indeed a whole new experience ;)
... and I walked out with a whole set of advices, medicines and blood test report which had a platelet and wbc count below normal.

Remind me next time to narrate the story of my visits to the hospitals in the twin city

Friday, September 18, 2009

Mahalaya EFL-U ishtyle and the fever!

A lonely laptop connected to a speaker, perched on top of a water cooler. One bunch of not-so-enthu with why-are-we-here looking bongs huddled on the third floor. The Bengali poster was the one thing that got them there. The first one since I have come to this place. Breakfast at Reddy's with the ever-so-looming apprehensions of submission - of assignments and bibliographies. And then the fever hit me.

The pic will come up sometime soon - right now it is adorning one of the walls in my room.

ps: finally putting up the poster... (26.02.2010)

Friday, September 11, 2009

The Class

So I enjoyed the class. Didn't fall asleep, that is. Now I don't know whether to feel good or disturbed about it.

Saturday, September 5, 2009

A Painted room of one's own

And finally we got a room of one's own.
And then we painted the room. And this is how it looks...

Monday, June 29, 2009

Bored and ...

It’s been over a month since I shifted base to Kolkata. As I sit here beside that same old window from where I watched the comings and goings of the world around me, I wonder were they for real? I mean the days away from here. Time flies. But everything looks just the way I left it.
It is just midnight. The traffic signal is a blinking red. It means that there is no one to man the post, so one must be careful and cross it their own risk. A man is standing underneath it staring at it, almost stupefied by the red. The next time I turn to look at him again, he is gone. Was he Time? The fruit-juice vendor is departing to the lower end of his shop that comprises his home. His family sleeps somewhere in some distant place in Bihar. There are many more like him. But they are not as lucky as him. He has been a little too lucky this year. With the monsoon delayed he can still sleep in peace without the constant fear of water gushing into his 4 feet by 3 “home”. The cabbie strategically parks his car – so that he is the first in line the next morning to pick the first passenger to the railway station. An early entry there means a day of good business and some multiple trips. The urchin decides to lay claim to the road that has denied his existence all day. What can the road do? He has to help these helpless yet indomitable little beings. They may not have a claim over the road, but surely, they have a claim over the sky. A group of bikers rush passed. They are making their way out of the city. Another roadtrip in the making – their minds and bodies tensed anticipating the result. Everyone knows that the road is the safest place to be. A lone cyclist makes his way back - followed by the last bus. The dim light almost shrouds the shady figures that are sitting in it. The men line up to sleep on the footpath - their torsos bare and a loin cloth on them.Some, trying to avoid any untoward disturbance sleep on top of the shade of the bus stop. I have always wondered how they got up there.
There goes the lunatic walking right in the middle of the road. With no traffic this is the best time to fulfill his life’s dream – that’s what the common saying goes. The Press truck whizzes passed. Deadlines have to be met, deliveries have to be made. The city might be sleeping – but it is like a sleeping monster. It only needs to awake and it devours everything that it sees in front of it. Trucks loaded with goods make their way into the city almost stealthily. It must replenish and the city’s stock and quietly make its exit. The sophisticated city people do not like the ugly sight of them. Typical!

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Winds - or so I think...

The gust of wind brought with it thoughts charged with memories. Times that were filled with the bitter and the sweet, times that was loved as well as hated. Those were the times when I ‘lived’. I am no ghost talking to you. I am just another self that was once alive.

~ So said the voice to me through the dead of the night. I looked around only to find myself – the only one sitting on the edge. It had rained in the evening. The night was cooler. The trees swayed gently to the rhythm of the wind, whispering the secrets of the dark night. Is that the voice that I heard? The torn cotton clouds gave way to the wind and I could see the moon.

A creak nearby. Somebody turned. The old beds groaned in protest. The sounds of the distant land – could be heard loud and clear. But they were just sounds; reminders of the lands that lay beyond the invisible wall.

Monday, February 23, 2009

Of Lights, chai and voices...

The city lights are visible.
Tiny dots of life
That mingle with the voices in the head.
A gust of wind bring the voices to me,
And I become a part of it.

The steam.
Coiling out of the flavoured cups of chai
The laughter.
That wafts through the air,
To rest on some furtive ears.

The distant call for prayer brings
A sudden quietude
As twelve pairs of eyes look on…

Friday, February 20, 2009

Born to be WILD!

A Birthday that was untold...
and then it was fun!!

Sunday, January 11, 2009

Holiday stories

So the very next day I landed at home, Mum dragged me all the way to my native place. I personally have no problem visiting that place, I love that place – it holds many fond memories of my childhood. But not when half the house is lying empty! In fact, the house has become a ghost of what it was when I was a kid. We used to visit every weekend when my Dad came back from Gaya (where he used to teach in a medical college) and had the best weekends that a child can possibly imagine. Now all those cousins who welcomed me with open arms into their tightly knit compartment are not there. They have moved out or settled down elsewhere, more closer to the city. I was always one of the youngest and not unexpectedly had a run for everything best and the most wonderful that was possibly on offer. I know… I confess I was one of those pampered ones. Now that those attractions are no more there, the urge has diminished (uttered with total selfishness). We rather keep in touch over emails, chat sessions, over the phone… long distance, they say.

Despite the tremendous unwillingness we eventually did manage to go… not much has changed from the last time I went. I missed those wonderful days when many an afternoons we had spent in the orchard and the barn planning and executing all the pickle expeditions while the entire household was busy catching their daily siesta. Now it is like a curtsy call to pay respects to the elders in the family… you never know whether you mean much of it or not. Now they give you exactly all the things that you loved when you were a kid. But that fascination is gone. And now, even if all the those delicious things for which you were even willing to risk getting smacked at by the elders - but you still tried it and never gave up, is lying right in front of you, laid out only for you, you miss the charm of procuring it when you are not allowed to take it.The miles and miles of open fields have now been dotted by concret houses and huts of settlers whose nests have been raked to ashes. The brown meandering road is now one straight strip of tar that slowly vanished into the horizon. The pond has become half the size of what it was and the fishes are no more there. The cowshed is now the storeroom and the barn has become home for some more destitutes whom the city did not accept into its wide open arms.The upper part of the house, towards the eastern side, the walls are crumbling as the tree roots make their way more and more into the cracks between the bricks and the cement.

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

And then there was a sudden spark, a loud crackling noise and everything went dark… on the TV screen. For a few seconds all three of us remained motionless, our minds taking their own sweet time to fathom the damage that has just been done. This was immediately followed by a sudden burst of energy (synergy?) in the three of us. Mom screamed, “Switch off the power button and unplug the power cord!” to Dad whose limbs decided to not listen to his mind (brain?) right at that very moment. I for some reason beyond my own comprehension shouted the declaration as if I was standing on Mount Everest and have just spotted a unicorn in the nearby bush, “I see fire!!”
No, it was not a cloudy day, the weather was fine (in fact, there was nip in the air with the onset of winter, finally), in fact it was not even day; it was quite late at night. We had just come back from a late dinner form a family friend’s place and decided to unwind ourselves (very unusually though) by plonking our asses on the couch in front of the television set. Our three pairs of eyes were glued to the television screen as we were every beta/ gamma/ pixel of light signal that was being emitted through the cathode tube (or whatever that is they call it), trying to follow the chain of events in the daily soap that has become quite an addiction for all of us… yes, Dad too included! And just when things were becoming interesting (and don’t understand why all interruptions come at the “THE” moment) the picture tube of our eleven-year-old-otherwise-working-perfectly-14inch television decided to conk off. And I am very sorry to break it to you all, that was the end of our journey together. Many a film I have watched through the eyes of that so-called idiot box that opened my eyes to the world to a large extent. Three world cup finals and a string of wins and losses by the men in blue (that’s the only game I seriously watch apart from swimming, basketball, tennis, formula one races… etc, etc). And now it is no more.
Now its coveted position has been usurped by a sleek LCD screen 26inch television where everything looks bigger than they did in the 14inch. You don’t have to whack its head so as to get the picture back. As a matter of fact, this one does not even have a proper head! So much for trying to hit size zero, huh? That’s the trend these days. Kareena, for instance. I mean seriously, a day will dawn very soon when Saif might have to wear red glasses to spot where lies his size zero girl friend!

Sunday, January 4, 2009


The silence of the rooms deafens my ears. The air seems to hang still… not a stirring anywhere. It’s not so warm and the fan is switched off. So the usual whirring of the fan’s blades cutting through the air is missing. I miss that sound… something that reminds me more of the long hot summer evenings. Suddenly the power goes. Just when my conscience begins to look forward to another round of silence there is a stirring everywhere around me. People are feeling their way around the house. The eye takes sometime to habituate. I love those few moments… when I know my eyes are wide open and yet I cannot even spot a trace of light anywhere around me. Somebody lights a match, I hear the hissing as the flames lick the soggy wooden matchstick. The maid had come to wash the kitchen in the afternoon and mindless that she is, she poured a bucketful of water before she noticed the matchbox. Thankfully it wasn’t too late. The escaping moisture seems to throw their last complaint at your face before making a dash out of the matchstick.
The shadows play around with the shadows of the mind. The room is sometimes lighted up by the headlights of the passing cars. Even they seem to stealthily pass by this place engulfed in darkness… The candle is finally lit after much protestation from the matchstick.
There is a moment’s pause before those familiar hands with their familiar shapes, the sounds of the bangles that I had always known, come with light – fire – man’s first discovery. The hands guard the flame against the sudden breeze that came from nowhere. I can see the blood flowing through the palm against the bright candle light. The tinkling of the bangles, make me sit up straight. It’s an old habit from childhood when I used to stealthily read storybooks during study hours. But those same bangle clad hands become the warm nook wherein I can nestle, guarded from all the dangers of the world.

A Whole New Year!!

HAPPY NEW YEAR to all...

Have not been able to write much this past one month but I am back again :)
and hopefully can resolve to be more regular.