JINXED

Since it's been a while...

2011-10-26T22:10:00.000+05:30

Since it has been a while (and which was surprisingly pointed out from one unexpected end) I come back to the blog on a day when I am feeling least at home and missing the one place where diwali was a lot more than just lighting diyas and bursting crackers. While the former did happen (and which has also contributed to the innumerable photographs that a certain Aby Abraham never got tired of) the latter was not felt necessary. Living away from home diwali initially meant walking uninvited (coz invites were considered offensive when the door was open to all and the food never actually ran out) into the friendly prof's house and gorging on some really yummy food. Over the years, the guests became the hosts and one of the few 'happening' party planners where the cooking started in the morning, continued till the guests pulled them out of the kitchen, or worst still, were actually hurled into it if they ever made the mistake of knowing better than the know-it-all cooks. The dangerous-if-kept-anywhere-near-the-kitchen souls were held at bay with either a cam or the sweets or the internet.
While I am writing this very post, there one soul who is feeling as much left out as yours truly and there are five others who are trying to sound as if the whole place is as loud as it was these last few years. Trying not to sound this as an obituary but rather a memorabilia of a life well lived with no regrets, I join the hosts of this year in spirit, who for the first time I am guessing are not worried that the food might not be enough.
Here are some of the glimpses from the past:

The title is NOT "First One Down"

2011-08-11T21:54:00.001+05:30

Would have loved to call this post "First One Down" but then don't really want to sound all that senile just yet. Life is still young and the world is yet to be driven up its walls by the bunch of us. But then just to break it to the blogger world (not that anyone here is new and is not already in my various other social networking circles but then I want to blog and hence I do it all over again here) my first and oldest roommie, Amritha, got engaged this week, bringing all the rest of us too close to that danger mark. There are some who might be thinking otherwise, but to be honest, being on the wrong side of a quarter century, with the awesome luck of having had to come back to one's own city, life is not all that colourful. Of course, trying not to be the prodigal child, I do accept the healthy homemade food (which again is not helping me in my struggle against the ever increasing midsection of my torso), the cheap accommodation, the free internet and television. But then one is but forced to say that one would be more than glad to drop it all and rather be a visiting member of the family (if there is at all some such thing in this awesome world) once in a while.

When I was a kid I used to wonder how all mothers say the same thing and would also, given the brilliant brain that I was and still am, come to the conclusion that they must have all studied in the same (bloody) school (the last parenthetised word is of course a much later and grown up addition). I must say, quarter of a century down the line, I think I am still going to say the same thing with as much conviction (may be even more now) as I did back then. Now if I plunge into the whole 'what-happened-why-am-I-saying-this' yarn, I think I might as well start a whole new blog for that. Well, to be honest, it is not that we (yours truly and crumbs) don't have a project like that in mind, but that is for laters. This post, like most of my other post is about the all important announcement that I wanted to make about my friend Amritha and ended up saying so many other random things as well. Hence, I shall stop now and right here.

contemplations and life. again!

2011-08-09T12:45:00.000+05:30

...am wondering whether I should finally go first person now...

And the story continues...

2011-01-28T12:48:00.000+05:30

So continuing with the story which I thought I will hand over to the more 'experienced' ones, I come back to the two star struck lovers (?) who are not so much struck by the star, but has settled down quite well. It's been a year and I rejoice as much for them, but more because I get a single room for myself at a fairly regular interval. Keeps me happy and everybody else around! So from the initial syndromes (you can find them here) to the meet-the-parents, to house-hunting, to cooking (by someone who is best kept outside the kitchen), to partially moving in. The story has indeed moved on.
So the kid who was a disaster in the kitchen has graduated to holding her ground quite well even when it comes to cooking single-handedly - not to mention the mother amusedly complaining about how she cooks only for 'him'. Well of course, here comes the moment when both of them would go straight and plunge into the whole disclaimer bit. (I regret the others who are completely lost what I am speaking about, so I expect some of my readers to help each other out). But then thanks to this development, we the lucky souls, have been treated with various forms of bhindi and chocolate cakes.
But since most of my entries pertaining to this has been about the supposed 'outcomes' here is a list:

The extra long hair that gave competition to not just her but all her friends is now gone.
The facial hair is missing (even if it is only for a few days).
Left wondering whether the students were laughing at the above mentioned sudden change or the "Tumhein kuch nahin pata" written on one's feet.
Five minutes is never five but a whole lot more that comes in between ;)
Promises of working inevitably broken by the (obvious only to the others around) 'stay overs'.
The roommate is greeted in the morning by a roommie in yet another unfamiliar t-shirt.
The increasing pile of work and yet the utter disregard to it all. After all... :)
Bhindi features more - even on the others who share the food.
Everyone has someone to bully and wink to get stuff from Sitaphalmandi.

But the saga continues for the depleting bank account, the whispered phone calls at night (oh the inconveniences of having an insomniac roommate!), the taking-interest-in-things-that-never-hit-your-radar-before, the digging of one's own grave, the whole experience of the moment when the rest of the world suddenly vanishes into oblivion when you both are there together, the extended meals, the wait…

Thrown back into this world

2010-10-24T16:29:00.001+05:30

And so when I thought that my activity in the blogosphere has most certainly become unexplainably low, I am thrown back into it by two non-rockets non-scientists who think that "the food on rockets is REALLY bad!" ... yes that's exactly how their blog subhead reads.
As for my part, I have earned the copyright to some of the photographs that they are going to use. Now the real story behind that whole copyright thingy is the result of both the non-scientists' effort at trying to keep me as far as possible from the point of action, for obvious precautionary measures that one should take if they are hoping to keep the sanity in the atmosphere intact. Hence, they let me have my fill in the food-making process by taking photographs as I wished. Who would have known that precautionary exercises would one day bear fruit in the lives of two non-rocket non-scientists...

Lines written in a whim

2010-09-08T02:50:00.000+05:30

The silence of the night is broken by the faint melodies of songs of yesteryears, while the trains chug by in the distance. They are the dark shapes making their way into the darkness, their paths lighted by a straight ray of light that gets thrown into the distance. And suddenly the music stops and there is sheer darkness and the silence of the night overpowers the quietude. The crickets carry on with their banter and the big brown moth desperately tries to enter the room through the slit in the ventilator. Sounds of laughter come from somewhere and the night is told that it is not yet time to sleep.

Boxed in a box

2010-05-09T15:54:00.001+05:30

It's funny how all of them have become (or perhaps probably already were) one box in my screen with the fancy email id that hides the names and a green or red button at the top left corner (or sometimes even invisible). Of course, they peep out of that box once in a while to drop a "hey there". The appearance of my picture with along with their's in that tiny box is the only connection between them and me. Sometimes they fall silent while I keep staring at the oh-so-important box, waiting for the all so evident hint on the screen ~ "_______ is typing" something. It's silent words that are coming coded, encoded and decoded by the distance of miles or even a two inch wall. Sometimes when things hit really rock bottom - when the boxes say nothing at all, one gathers comfort at the very thought - they may not be talking to me but they are right there in that tiny blue box with a white screen...

I think I can officially be declared a happy loner!

What am I thinking?

2010-05-07T11:47:00.001+05:30

Morning conversations. A not-so-happy-ness at the day that is to follow. Nothing-to-do-ness. Trying-to-do-something-ness. News and speculations. A cycle that likes to repeat itself every single day... and yet I still keep wondering what if this is that day that will change my whole life?

Am I that brain dead that this is all I can come up with?? :O

Thoughts

2010-05-02T12:40:00.001+05:30

Prolonged breakfast, phone calls made, bills paid, books read, and moved on with the day... another Sunday will whiz past and what will I do...??

Yes I haven't blogged for a really long time. But I feel no sorry for having not. Didn't feel like writing anything and therefore didn't come back to blogger for sometime. No I will not try and explain it as a writer's blog. I simply did not want to write. Isn't that enough?

Awards and show offs

2010-03-08T21:17:00.002+05:30

It's been months since I blogged. Surprisingly, there has been no pangs of guilt for this. Only today morning one regular visitor pointed out that since I am already in the non-work mode, I might as well do something useful and keep my blog active.
Eventually it was an award from a fellow blogger that finally got me to type in something. No dear readers, this does not mean that one can raise their hope looking for some more regular updates. I am just being a show off right now, that's all.

Now all one has to do is to nominate some twelve bloggers. I am being extra lazy and nominating only those few whom I follow regularly. And now my job is done!

The Diary of a Student

Oh not so mushy after all...

2010-01-16T15:59:00.000+05:30

One ride on a public bus in Kolkata jolted me back to my senses. All those sweet mushy excesses that I have been witness to was washed out of the window, thanks to the string of abuses and threats that shot into my overhearing ear. I never thought that a simple bus ride to my old haunt - college and beyond - would prove so enlightening.

I was feeling quite happy that even after being quite out of touch with the public transport in good ol' Calcutta, I had managed to grab a seat. And then came the fated phone call. Now if one has taken a ride on a Calcutta bus, one must have noticed that something as personal as a phone call does not remain all that personal anymore. From the very first ring to the awkward (for the unfortunate listeners in this case) end to that conversation (as is the case here) the whole process is a public affair. The conversation is carried out in a voice quite above normal, blame the traffic and the external noise as well as the person on the other side. Now it is the responsibility of the co-passengers to maintain one's dignity and at least pretend to not overhear or not overhear at all. Yours truly, being quite out of practice with the art couldn't help overhearing - though in my defense I was sitting next to the this person - and the words that shot into my ear were like missiles shooting out and splintering in every possible direction.

When the person in question got off at a nearby stop I wondered, is it the passage of time, or the weather, or the geographical location, or was it I simply lacked the power of observation and "overhearing"... or is it a natural course that a relationship runs through?

Anyway, I have done too much of pondering on this issue over the last two posts. I will rest my case and let the rightful figure it out.

To be or not to be... is there ever an end to it?

2010-01-07T18:17:00.002+05:30

In the last few months I have experienced what it feels like to be “falling” and then “in” love – the smile that cannot under any circumstances be wiped off the face, the whole drill of missing even when there is really nothing much to miss, the sentences begun and then left incomplete, the whispered phone calls till late at night – the winter serving as the best excuse to pull the blanket over the head – though I wonder what happens in the summers, the whole wardrobe overhaul, the mirror becoming the best friend, finding everything beautiful, the complete (blissful?) ignorance of the depleting bank balance, unearthing beauty in the strangest of things – things you never remotely thought would come under your radar, the tensed calls from home, the explaining that you never wanted to be a part of, the whole experience of digging one’s own grave by making the mistake of opening your mouth more than necessary (yeah I know it’s a little corny! ; D), the long conversations over “assignments”, the walks in the midnight, the whole experience of the moment when the rest of the world suddenly vanishes into oblivion when you both are there together, the extended meals, the wait…

God is there ever an end to it?!

2010-01-06T04:00:00.003+05:30

Had been thinking that the blog needed a different look. Was getting bored myself. So in a spur of a moment I thought of changing the template. Then major screw up happened and now one is only left with this. Have to get back to all those blogs I had gotten into the habit of following.
Some things are indeed best left unchanged...

So much a for New Year...

2010-01-03T10:58:00.001+05:30

And the New Year arrived – for some with all the pomp and hype, and for some with a whimper. Spending the New Year’s Eve away from home I thought to make the most of it and indulge in all the hoopla that I have missed out on all these years. Plans were discussed, schedules were set, and arrangements were made. The result was – a small group of close friends, a bonfire on the terrace and a moderate amount of booze. The perfect combination for a perfect beginning to a (as I already know) less than perfect year that is to unfold. But there is a reason why I am known to be jinxed. Even while the plan was on and rolling, the clock struck 12 and all we had were two friends waiting for the rest to come, more importantly for the “parcel” to come, and all the while doing what? – knitting!

Two hours later – the “parcel” never came neither did the carriers of the parcel. The close knit friends finally made it after being stranded on the road on 31^st night – but an hour late. Phone calls to family failed as the network got jammed and then later it became too late to call home – unless I wanted to start off a false alarm. Two glasses of homemade wine is all we had between six of us – not to mention that my share was robbed off by bullying juniors.

The bonfire happened and so did the waking up of the ‘good Brahmin’ neighbourhood while we scavenged for fuel for the bonfire. We did of course have five months of old newspaper and two cans of deo. An hour and half into ‘having’ the bonfire - the unanimous conclusion was none of us will ever survive in a jungle. We may call the city a jungle but the very first day the year reminded us once again that we are very a part of that ‘jungle’.

Happy New Year, folks!

2009-12-24T23:30:00.004+05:30

The guava effect.

Air rights.

Jigsaw pieces.

Reading.

Missing pink socks.

Music.

Walks.

Shorter calls.

Loop.

Conversations.

Fan clubs.

Twenty questions.

Porota.

More walks.

Long calls.

Horoscope.

Lucky hours.

2009-12-09T19:09:00.006+05:30

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.

But, if only...

2009-12-07T00:09:00.007+05:30

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...

Stringing words together

2009-11-22T00:33:00.005+05:30

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.

Phew!

2009-11-16T19:43:00.003+05:30

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!!

Last Man Falls

2009-09-23T05:46:00.004+05:30

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

Mahalaya EFL-U ishtyle and the fever!

2009-09-18T19:18:00.005+05:30

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)

The Class

2009-09-11T19:39:00.001+05:30

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

A Painted room of one's own

2009-09-05T15:55:00.004+05:30

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

Bored and ...

2009-06-29T12:06:00.000+05:30

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!

Winds - or so I think...

2009-03-22T19:38:00.003+05:30

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.

Of Lights, chai and voices...

2009-02-23T11:16:00.004+05:30

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…

Born to be WILD!

2009-02-20T12:36:00.004+05:30

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

Holiday stories

2009-01-11T02:03:00.004+05:30

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.

2009-01-07T19:58:00.002+05:30

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!

Ruminations

2009-01-04T21:59:00.000+05:30

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!!

2009-01-04T19:34:00.001+05:30

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.

Blast from the past...

2008-11-19T10:34:00.002+05:30

It's time to slowly start wrapping up things for this semester. Not the forever enthu type to start packing so soon, I nevertheless ventured to have a look at what are the things that are dumped in the lowest shelf of my cupboard. Suddenly I came across a notebook that was more of a journal years back. I did not even know that I have this with me here. Should take it back home and leave it there. But just as old things make us stop and wait and look at it, I started ruffling through the pages... Mundane things about life, a bit of PNPC here and there about somebody somewhere, an enraged entry after a huge fight with Mum when I felt that that was the end of it. But then, end of what? I guess when you are young you tend to think that you will do something so drastic (which is actually stupid) that it will change your whole world. Only that for me, I have not been able to find something that drastic to do! But that desire still remains... only I, like many others around me, cannot imagine me doing anything too out of the world. I am somebody who usually follows the rules, not the stickler for rules, but like to walk on the right side of the 'law'.
I am just waiting for that moment when that 'me' will emerge. Till then it is just me.
And suddenly I turned a page and found a few lines that had caught my fancy:
"Your own reality - for yourself, not for others - what no other man can ever know. They can only see the mere show, and never can tell what it really means."

Conrad, Heart of Darkness

Confessions of a Confused Mind!

2008-11-13T22:20:00.003+05:30

* I believe that I am a dumb ass. I take time to understand things. Most of the time I don't open my mouth because I have no clue what is going on around me. Or many a times I just shut up because I think that I don't have anything intelligent or even interesting to say.

* I most of the time feel that I am spaced out, in a state of zombie, walking around in my own Lala land. Most of the time I let everything around me just pass by. I like the feeling when I am the only one standing against the flow, without any motion, feeling the flow of humanity dragging me towards an unknown destiny.

* I have never in my life made a conscious effort to make relationships work. If you think that I am your best friend that is because you make me feel special and hence I think I should reciprocate. I have let many an important people walk away from my life, just like that... And now, I feel it is time that I should do something about it.

* I prefer to be politically correct. Even if in my head I take a side, I will usually not disclose that unless under dire circumstances. So when I really want to say something, it is usually a spontaneous outburst of emotions.

* Although I claim to be this 2008 woman who can take care of herself, deep within I am still the only daughter. I am free to take decisions for myself, but cannot seem to take one without their hallowed approval, no matter how much I try.

* I have slowly achieved all that I wanted to achieve in life, till at least this stage of my life. But now I don't know where to go next.

* I don't have too many hobbies and those I do, I don't stick to them for too long. I give up things abruptly, which till the moment before meant a lot to me. And I must confess that it has cost me a lot in life.

* I am a scary blend of contradictions. Just when you thought that I am one of those kind souls who thinks about everybody, wait till you hear me snap at any random victim. The worst part being you don't know what's coming, until it hits you and you are left thinking - "What did just happen?" Just when you think that you know... I will throw a surprise at you.

* If I like you, I will put my trust and faith in you. If you disappoint me, I'll just shut up and before you know the situation will turn from we being friends,it will be all about you in a manner you wont even realize. And then when day when I will not be able to take it anymore, I'll leave... without any explanations.

* I seem like a blabbermouth, talking a mile a dozen. I tell entertaining stories about what's happening in and around. Well, it's just me making you believe that you are updated about what's with everything in this small world of ours. I am just doing my duty as a friend to keep you informed.

** After reading this you may feel that you don't know me at all. Well, what can I say, real stories are never entertaining.

Colours...

2008-11-06T18:46:00.003+05:30

The eternity seems closer
till a point, From which there
is no return...

A strong waft of breeze
bring...
Memories of pleasant days
Spent under the sun.

Life ... defined
by the criss-crossing colours.

Blah

2008-10-30T21:48:00.003+05:30

"Cockroaches and socialites are the only things that can stay up all night and eat anything."

"Researchers have discovered that chocolate produces some of the same reactions in the brain as marijuana. The researchers also discovered other similarities between the two but can't remember what they are."
Matt Lauer (on NBC's Today Show).

Came across these quotes while whiling away my precious youth surfing the net.

Not A Story

2008-10-29T12:10:00.000+05:30

The little girl… had the most beautiful voice and was the apple of her father’s eyes. Before she learnt anything about the world that was to be her home, she learnt about the sounds of music. Her music spoke for her and she was happy that way. She was her father’s favorite and never felt the need for anything else in the whole wide world. As she started growing up, her voice became her identity. It made her stand out in a crowd. And who could have imagined that inside the fragile body was housed one of the most wonderful voices that one will hear. When she immersed herself in the labyrinth of the musical notes, she felt the ripples of the sounds playing over her body.
Her first follower was her father who brought her into the world of music. She was like the Brahmin – twice born; once from her mother’s womb and again into the world of music, holding her father’s hand. He was her worst critic and again her best friend who told her to watch out at every step.
And then the day came when that perfect world of her shattered and broke to pieces. It was the end of the world for her. Everything that she had believed all these years felt like a lie. She questioned her reality and thought whether the life she has led till that day – was it true or was it a dream? Yes, she has heard of dreams coming to an end and the fact that reality may not be the same as what one thinks. But is this the same thing? Has that demon caught up with her? The demon which she always thought existed in the far away fairytales found in storybooks. It is that demon that has now come to rob her off that life that she holds so close to her heart?
She has always been close to her father. He was her God. She worshipped him as she had seen so many of his disciples do. But never once did she realize that for her father she was more the disciple than the daughter. Slowly, as she grew up she began to notice the cracks in the relationship that she held so reverently, with her father. Just like the way her mother began noticing after her sister was born. May be she had been witness to things but was too young to comprehend the immensity of the small insignificant incidents.

It hit her that afternoon when she came back from school. She felt the tension in the room the moment she entered. Her father sat brooding. An expression so menacing; something she never associated with her father. But it will become the truth for her about her father. That’s how she will always remember him, despite the perfect childhood that she had enjoyed.
For the first time she began to question the marks on her mother’s body. For the first time she began to look at her father just like any other man. For the first time she began to question the comings and goings of the lady friends in her father’s life. Why did they suddenly appear and then was never heard off again? Her life was no more like any other sixteen year old. She became her mother’s support and her sister’s role model. She made sure that she was never anybody’s God. She was hurt. She was lost. She was made to grow up before her time. She was thrown into the dark grim pit of reality a little too soon.
The world began to have a different hue altogether. It had only one colour, white. No not because it was pure. But it was like a clean slate, on which she had to know and understand the world anew. Everything she had believed till this day held no truth for her anymore. She scrapped it all and began to build her own world, as she saw it.

May be continued...

Manure money

2008-10-23T22:53:00.000+05:30

Money is like manure. You have to spread it around or it smells...

Mon kharap kora bikel paane rode koreche...

2008-10-23T22:11:00.006+05:30

Bikeler halka roddur Ta ekhono shei chHoTo belakar kotha gulo mone koriye dey. CharTe baja manei ek dourey barir shamner maThe chole jawa. Kintu shei din gulo jeno ekhon koto doore lage. Aj jokhon 5 Tar somoy class e boshe cinema'e neorealism er Dheu niye gyan shunchilam, hoTat mon Ta bheshe chole gelo shei swapner shomoy Ta te. Ami ekTa khola maThe neel akasher tolae... maTher shesh Ta amar chokhe porchHe na... dokhiner hawa Ta boye anchhe koto smriti bismriti. Kotodin hoe gelo ami shekhane jaini. Aj o ki shob kichu sherokom e ache? Bhable kirokom mon Ta utola hoe oThe. Bhebe obak lagey... koi onno somoy to shei shoishob Tar kotha mone pore na. tobe aj keno? tao jokhon ami ato durey... jokhon ek dourey jekhane jabo ta amar bhalo lagey na. Shei udbhranter dour amake kothae ar niye jabe? Obosheshe to shei kalo gate ebong phire asha. Ki amake aTke rekhechHe? Kei ba amake ei door probashe genthe rekhechHe? Bhable obak lagey... ami shudhui bhabi... kono uttor pai na.
tobe bola kae je ami kono din uttor khonji ni... proshno Tao je jageni. Ajo ki ami kono uttor khunjchHi?

Kotha theke kotha bheshe elo. Ami phire elam... na shei roudro pora maThe te noe. Door desher ekTi shohore ja amar bari ei duTi bochhor
er jonno... tarpor? Abar bhebe dekhbo na hoe, kemon?

where is home?

2008-10-15T21:52:00.002+05:30

And... I am back!! The explanation may not be like the emphatic drunken expression like that of Tom Cruise in Jerry Maguire, but I would definitely like to evoke the same effect ;D

So my ten days of complete bliss is finally over. And back to that life that has become closer to heart and away from home. I did miss this life, yes, I did say that after that disclaimer in my previous post (which attracted three quite different types of comments).

Some were waiting for me to come back for reasons known as well as unknown to me. Some were unabashed friends who placed orders for bengali sweets and there were many silent others whom I knew closely followed my blog, but refused to flatter me with a comment :P

With a few technical glitches my life is back to normal. Well.... yes my laptop's not working... a complete earth stopping incident for someone whose temperamental graph swings according to the well being of one's laptop!! Hopefully, everything will fall into its usual groove (that would include me again hunched in front of the comp and becoming more and more difficult to be pulled out of my room except for food and occasional classes).

As for what I have missed... here's a sneak peak -----
# A referendum that would decide where we are going to eat our pathetic daily morsels.
# A full fledged protest and that meant no classes
# My close friend getting hand picked by the admin to be part of the admin nominated member of the student member

But that doesn't top life from rolling, right?
So I am trying to brace it with a brave front.

Take a break

2008-10-02T23:22:00.002+05:30

Finally my plans of going home are materializing. Of course, a lot of heat and sweat has gone into it. But I shall not dwell on the happenings that crowded my life for the last couple of days.
I am going home for the Durga Pujas. No, not to spend the hours contributing to the footfall meter in Maddox or some other place. I am expecting this trip to be like a break to unwind after the too many things happening in my mortal life. A lot of people whom I haven't had the the privilege to meet with, I shall bump into. Fond memories to be exchanged and nostalgia shall be indulged.
Hence, I shall not be blogging for sometime. But I will definitely come back with a whole lot of wonderful experiences to talk about as well as photographs to lose one self in.
Till then...

Truth comes from the most unexpected places...

2008-09-30T23:44:00.003+05:30

An sms from an old friend in a different city, living a separate life and yet trying to keep in touch, bracing to keep the distance away...

Life means:
A winter evening,
Four friends,
Mild Rain,
Four pegs of whisky...

Life means:
100 bucks for petrol,
Two rusty old bikes,
An open road...

Life means:
Maggi noodles,
3:25 a.m.,
Rafi song on vividhbharati...

Life means:
1 prep leave,
1 night,
1 book,
8 duffers...

Life means:

*some text missing*

Yes, the truth hits you at the most unexpected moments.

The popularity index

2008-09-24T10:06:00.003+05:30

I sat myself down and spared a few minutes (which stretched into a whole afternoon) thinking what is more important to us popularity or to be right? It is a thin line that divides the two and quite easy to cross that divide.

What is it that makes us not see the glaring difference between the truth and the fake. I remember the strained smile that hurts at the corner of my lips, the unwanted enthusiasm that left me tired the end of the meeting, that expression of joy that holds no meaning, a familiarity with people where nothing such exists. But no, I find it difficult to do that every time.

Does that get me anywhere? I am still trying to figure out. Does the blatant truth hurt my friend or will that fake assurance make me a better friend? Should I let the thought of losing a friend over power my sense of right and wrong or should I be the one to bring that friend closer to the reality?

Well the fact that I am not that popular either should tell me something.

I am told that it is the art of social networking. A kind of investment of time and energy to build an image that I myself don't identify. So I see two identical figures standing side by side looking at each other with an expression of uncertainty and fear. Is it the fear that we all share when it comes to encountering the truth about ourselves? What shall we see in the mirror? Not the me I am supposed to look at - but the me I have built myself into. I don't find the me in that reflection. I wonder, is that me?
No, I cannot bear the thought of looking at anybody else in my mirror!

What should I do? Should I laugh?
Is it the desperation to be seen and known by the seen and known so important in life? As Milton said: "They also serve, those who stand and wait."
What is it that stops humanity to serve as they stand and wait? I think.

The words 'happening', 'in', 'popularity index', 'famous'... crowd my thoughts. I try to search for the me in that. I look hard. I see a vague image, pushed by people... to become the truth. But the sight scares me. I run away.

What have I lost? Not much. Just a few passersby who did not mean much in my life... but they sure did try to be someone. And then where would I have been. Again the thought scares me.

when things go wrong

2008-09-22T09:20:00.002+05:30

Things couldn't have gone any more wrong, any more worse. After the many humanly hurdles,the elements threw the last and the toughest of hurdles.
The rains came...
An emergency meeting was called to salvage the situation.

Onam celebrations did happen. With a blast. Wonderful performances.
But hey where did things go wrong?
After the rains it was the soggy lawn. Sitting on it was out of the question. Thus over 100 chairs were carried out of the classrooms to the lawn. It was a moment to remember when everyone pitched in to make the evening 'happen'.
The time had to be shifted to post-dinner.
The usual CIEFL delays...
The programme starts with Sneha cracking the saddest joke she could come up with till date... but she still pulled it off.
Sharika had a wardrobe malfunction in both the traditional dances.
Vrinda got an electric shock because of the wet stage and the wires that were running underneath it. Hence, Thiruvathirakalli had to started again, and then the sound man forgot to increase the faders. So after two missed shots the dance finally happened. And all this going onstage and coming off did some good to the jittery nerves of the dancers.
The rest of the programme went smoothly with the high point being the play.
And then the chain of disasters started after everything got over. Two cases of cramps and faints.
That entailed a second round of running around...
But all said and done we all went to bed with the happy thought that despite everything we have pulled it off!

just doesn't give up

2008-09-21T17:52:00.000+05:30

The sky is overcast again. The countdown continues. The last few minutes have to be made full use of… just like one makes the best of her waking hours. All are running around to get everything into perfection. The dancers. The decorating committee. The actors. The sound team. The masters of the ceremony. The technician. There is an underlying tension inside all.
And in the midst of this hurly burly I suddenly find myself having nothing to do. I wait as the clock ticks. In a few minutes the room will be filled by the rustles of the fabric that will crowd this space that I prefer to call my own.
As I sit pondering I recall what I have done the whole day. Fairly a huge amount of work but nothing very concrete though. But the company was good. So time flowed as if it has wings. My first venture outside the room (after the late breakfast of maggi with coffee and a sad effort at studying) led me to the path of gossip. Then took up the brave front of a friend who stands by another. Threatened and coaxed people to come and help me in the deed. Lunch was another round of the serpentine maggi.
And then the rains came…
First in tokens and then as cats and dogs.
Nature betrayed us or were we too confident of its mood swings?
But man just doesn’t give up.

Good ol' Calcutta

2008-09-19T15:55:00.003+05:30

This is the illustration of the old Calcutta featuring the Howrah Bridge in Geoffrey Moorhouse's book 'Calcutta'

surprises

2008-09-18T14:20:00.001+05:30

So who does not like a little bit surprise in one's life? We all want to spice up our lives with something new and something different. But what happens when even surprises become a norm, a cliché - that is - it no more remains a surprise, but becomes an aberrance to its definition? Let me give a hint – I’m talking about birthdays in CIEFL. Birthdays are always fun. Not because one gets a chance to be ‘special’, rather the often unsuccessful efforts that goes into planning a surprise party. Staying away from homes friends try to make one's birthday somewhat memorable. But one remembers those birthdays, not because of the expression of surprise on the birthday gal or guy’s face, but the eleventh hour plans and the execution of that plan beginning from 11:55! Many can fondly recollect the sight of friends trying to scramble up to the destined location before the birthday gal actually reaches there... Then there is another getting locked out of her room/quarter - all because the organizers were still running all over the place trying to get things in place... And the there was one who made one of the organizers go around the campus in circles... The easiest way to put up something is to get the person out of the room with some excuse and get everything ready. So the commonest and oldest line is - "Let's go out for a walk." You say it and it is a dead giveaway. And yet people still use it. You go for a walk either to get the person out of the way or to take the person till there. The hilarity of the situation does not end. There are some innovative friends who actually come up with treasure hunts. So one is also not surprised to find people out on an expedition, hunting for clues that take one for a wild goose chase around the campus only to lead one back to one's own room!!

Surprises in my life have been very few. Yeah… you can kind of say that my life’s been pretty much predictable – leaving aside the exam results and grades – having spent the larger part of my life in one city, cocooned by family and relatives, same set of friends, whom I believe were always going to be there (operational word being ‘believed’).
Way back in primary school the pleasurable surprise of getting a present from Santa was broken the very next day when my parents explained that there is nothing such as Santa coming and giving you presents. It was Dad who put it there the night before. However, I was not one to give up so easily. Thus Dad became my Santa, which in a way made it easier for me to make my wishes heard during Christmas! Hence I don’t complain that I was forced to grow up early, only that I was made closer to reality. Even today, so many years after Santa Clause was erased out of my fantasies, my Dad fails to hold his enthusiasm to give me the gift he has got for my birthday. Well, the actual incident was, he forgot the most important part – that birthday gifts are kept as a surprise!

But that doesn’t stop me from surprising others, especially people I care about and friends who are close to me. I act impulsively. I get a gift because I want to convey my warmest regards – not thinking whether that’s what and how I should give. It hits me later when I see the expression on my friends’ face change or when not a single muscle flinched in reaction – that it wasn’t really a good idea. It has always been wonderful to surprise my mum. How can I ever forget her face breaking into a wide smile? Mums… they are always such a boost to your ego!

Losing it

2008-09-14T11:23:00.006+05:30

Woke up with a blasting headache. It is a Sunday and there is this sinking feeling inside that another weekend has come to an end. So, even if Sunday means I can wake up late (which I did today) it also brings in a depressing feeling about the week that lies ahead.
Another series of blasts have rocked the capital. The gory picture on the front page hit me, the first thing I picked up the paper. Scrat walked in when I was helping myself into a huge mug of coffee, insisting that I wish a GOOD morning.

I realized that I wake up nowadays with this sinking feeling that I am losing out the battle with life. What battle... I have no idea... but that's how people put it, right?

It hits you hard when you realize that what you thought is not actually how it is. A gift that depresses you, the gift - the thought of which - takes the smile away from the face. A deadpan expression greets when there should have been a smile... Or am I wrong? Am I dreaming?
Too many voices speak inside my head. But strain my ear for sanity. It seems to have been trampled over by the unnecessary. Am I losing it?
Losing is such a depressing process... lose a game, lose a quarrel, lose a friend, lose a life. Am I scared to face the truth?
The events of a year gone by sails passed me. The same events being repeated... with certain changes in character. It is a scary feeling. I want to shut myself out of this reality. I want to get away. Yes, I want to escape... if that calms my unsettled reality.

My my.... myself

2008-09-14T03:39:00.002+05:30

1. LAST MOVIE I SAW IN A THEATER:
Bachna Ae Hasino. And if the University film club screenings count, then Lolita (the Adrian Lyne version)

2. WHAT BOOK AM I READING?
I have the habit of reading multiple books at a time.
Erich Segal’s Acts of Faith.
Other reference books related to my present courses.

3. FAVORITE BOARD GAME?
My all time favourite – Scrabble

4. FAVORITE MAGAZINE?
Readers’ Digest and of course the EFL-U campus magazine that is a product of our personal initiative (and I shall not accept anything otherwise)

5. FAVORITE SMELLS?
I love the smell of the freshly soaked earth after the first monsoon showers.

6. FAVORITE SOUND?
My mum’s voice… the first thing I hear when I wake up in the morning… Miss ya lots, Ma.

7. WORST FEELING IN THE WORLD?
Desertion

8. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU THINK OF WHEN YOU WAKE?
Umm… Where exactly am I? What day is today? When is my first class? The three questions pop into my mind at the same time, creating quite a havoc in my mind.

9. FAVORITE FAST FOOD PLACE?
Fairly new to the city… not much of a venturer either. But nothing can beat Park Café fish fry and cutlet near my house.

10. FUTURE CHILD'S NAME?
Er…….

11. FINISH THIS STATEMENT. "IF I HAD A LOT OF MONEY I'D...?
Well, I’m not much of an optimist. Like to keep life simple and take one day at a time. Don’t indulge in hallucination…!!!

12. DO I DRIVE FAST?
The fact that I don’t yet have a license should speak loads.

13. DO I SLEEP WITH A STUFFED ANIMAL?
A violent negative!

14. STORMS-COOL OR SCARY?
Cool

15. WHAT WAS MY FIRST CAR?
Never was a car fanatic. First car to have taken a ride in and worth remembering is when my uncle let me hold the steering while he took care of the gear, clutch, accelerator and brakes.

16. FAVORITE DRINK?
Big time coffee person… some say that one day if they have to draw blood form my system, all they will get is caffeine.

17. FINISH THIS STATEMENT, "IF I HAD THE TIME I WOULD .....
Re-live some of the memorable moments of my life… I know it is too difficult to go back to the not-so-memorable ones and try to set it right. Rather, they are the ones that make life worth living.

18. DO I EAT THE STEMS ON BROCCOLI?
Yeah… why not.

19. IF I COULD DYE MY HAIR ANY COLOR, WHAT WOULD BE YOUR CHOICE?
Purple streaks.

20. NAME ALL THE DIFFERENT CITIES/TOWNS I HAVE LIVED IN
Was born in Calcutta (now Kolkata). Have lived there, grown up there and will most probably settle there. There was of course a little dash of a couple of wonderful years spent in Hyderabad.

21. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?
Cricekt without a shade of doubt.

22. WHAT'S UNDER MY BED?
Nothing really.

23. WOULD I LIKE TO BE BORN AS MYSELF AGAIN?

Yes... And I would prefer it if I could remember this life… creepy but I’m being frank.

24. MORNING PERSON, OR NIGHT OWL?
Was a morning person, till I came to this place called CIEFL and everything went for a toss… right now, I’m kind of both..

25. OVER EASY, OR SUNNY SIDE UP?
Sunny side up..!!

26. FAVORITE PLACE TO RELAX?
I feel like a vagabond without a home… Is it the room that lies vacant back in Kolkata my own, or the present one that I share with my roommate and in which I spend most of my time.

27. FAVORITE PIE?
All American Pie movies

28. FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR?
Chocolate… any time!

Revelations III

2008-09-13T03:15:00.004+05:30

OF SMELLS AND OTHER SENSITIVITIES

I associate things more through sounds and smell. It was something I had from a very young age. I was always close to my Uncle. Whenever he would enter the house, no matter which part of the house I was in, even if I hadn’t seen him enter, I would be able to tell that he was here, just by the smell with which I associate even to this day. This has proved true more than once till a very old age.

However, more than my smell I am stronger by my ear. If I hear a tune, even if I did not know the language, I will be able to identify the song even after a long time. I use pick up tunes like an ‘automatic machine’ as my friends use say. I never write down the notes of the songs I played, even if it is a competition.

In that way, I remembered a lot of things by the picture of that particular moment that had got stuck in my memory. I still vaguely remember the picture of that day in the hospital when I was admitted because of high fever, 22 years back. I remember the long room with many beds around and the nurse pulling up the protective rails on the sides of my bed.
I still remember the face of my mother crying when I said goodbye for the day, when she was in the hospital because of an accident.
I remember the embarrassing moment when I cracked the most idiotic jokes and was laughed at - their laughter still rings in my ears
I remember the afternoon when I reacted to an emergency - the concern written all over my aunt's face when I opened the door to her.
I remember the mornings when I recited the mathematical tables to my mum as I waited for the school bus to come.
I remember the night we spent with my Grand ma's body, waiting for my Uncle to come to perform the last rites - the smell of the incense still lingering in my memory.
I remember the moment when I sprained my ankle - the fall and what led to it - all like a movie in slow motion.
I remember the day I got busted for coming late from school as I was caught up in the practice for an important match - mum's voice still rings in my ears.
I remember the day I first dove into the water for my first competition. I remember feeling the sweat trickling down my forehead even in water, as I graduated to advanced swimming - all like a camera that is running in front of my eyes.
I remember the bus ride to St. Stephens from Palam - the Hum Tum song is still etched in my memory and that's what I associate that song with.

But I realize that I hardly remember anything with me in it. I have always loathed my photographs being taken. Videography was not a matter of everyday parlance. So as I hold the memory of the world around me, nowhere in them m I able to place myself.
Is that the reason I never see myself in a dream or more importantly, I hardly remember any of my dreams or may be I don't dream at all!

Revelations II

2008-09-13T00:05:00.000+05:30

MY MIND:
As a kid I had the habit of speaking, not myself, but to imaginary others, whom most of the time I knew, but were not actually present when I was addressing them. Usually these others are people who were part of my immediate life – my swimming coach, a friend, a new member in the family. However, this did not mean that I talked to them all the same. This happened in my imaginary world. The funniest part is that when I was in front of them, I may not even speak a word to them. The very person, with whom I had talked in my imagination, became a stranger to me.

Revelations

2008-09-08T09:19:00.004+05:30

The next few posts will be very self revealing. I decided that I will write something about myself, not for the benefit of others, but to try and work things out for myself.

DAY DREAMS:
Ever since the day I have been going to the nursery school, I remember sometimes going into another world. It was a world where I perceived things differently. One might ask what I meant by this term ‘different’. But who should answer - the kid who used to tug at her father’s arm, giving the last shot of not making to school or this present me. Not that I did not like school. I loved going to school. I had always been quite lucky (at least in the early years of my school life) to have gotten wonderful teachers. I was always the kind of person (I am using the word person because I am still like that even now) who did not like too many changes too often. I wanted to stay rooted to one place till I get tired of that place. After which I will start looking around for opportunities to change. This does not mean that I forget the past. Absolutely not! Contradictory as it may seem, I like to hold on to every part of my life that I have lived so far. Some people live for the moment. I do that too. Only I re-live every moment of my life. I am the person who saves all my messages and mails, which I consider holds a piece of my life. I would go back to them and read them over and over again, recalling the very moment, the mood or the previous conversations that provoked that message or mail. That is when I go into another world. A completely different zone altogether. But I must clarify this to my readers that come what may I do not wallow in the sad memories which I very often recall. I kind of become a distant observer of my own self.
I remember when I was a kid, I used to sit in my class and look around at what my friends are doing. The surrounding sounds used to get muffled into one big indistinguishable sound. I particularly remember one day in my kindergarten school. This was just the year before I got admitted into a bigger school. The teacher was taking the class attendance. I was in one of those inexplicable zones of mine. The boys were lost in their stupid games, there was one girl with long hair. She was already prying open her Tiffin box. I remember, it was a green transparent plastic Tiffin box. She had brought boiled egg. She was all engrossed in her precious Tiffin Box. There was another girl (I must mention that both of them would later become my schoolmates in the bigger school) who slept while the teacher kept on calling out her name. She would finally wake up at the end of the roll call and go up to the teacher to make her presence felt. I cannot vouch whether this happened everyday. I remember only this particular day.
All these recollections had its toll on me too. As I grew older I would not only recollect but constantly judge my actions. I always had a very low opinion of me. I thought myself to be a poor writer even when there were articles that were getting published one after another. I was always conscious (for reasons unknown to me) that I did not know the perfect grammar, neither in English nor in my mother tongue. In fact, I believe that hadn’t I always judged myself I would have taken things/ situation for granted and stopped taking them seriously. It made me conscious and clumsy at times. Well, I was just following the ways of the universe. I know what to do in a situation. But I would find myself making the silliest of mistakes that made me go red to the ears! After that, I would go over that incident over and over in my mind, till I reached a point when I could not take the shame of having embarrassed myself.
My day dreams consists of people I may not even know. But one thing for sure, the idea of day dream always reminds me of one of my friends back in school, whom we called 'daydreamer'. No it was not me.

messages from nowhere...

2008-08-31T23:10:00.003+05:30

So some car repair company (Mody Motors) has been sending me messages urging me to collect my car, the existence of which I had no knowledge of till now. It goes something like this:

Dear Customer,
Your vehicle is services and ready for delivery. Job no: 538, the bill amount is 2847

So technically, I have the chances of getting a car by 2847 bucks!!

pissed

2008-08-31T17:08:00.003+05:30

God, grant me the strength to accept the things I cannot change, The courage to change the things I can, And the wisdom to to hide the bodies of those people I had to kill because they pissed me off!

something called life...

2008-08-30T21:19:00.000+05:30

...catching up

2008-08-27T19:44:00.005+05:30

Fortunately the two pathetic hours that I was not so looking forward to did not last that long... A distant land struggle issue cut it short. Not that any of us in the class were aware of it but a chance of a sudden respite from the ordeal cannot be left otherwise.

A stuffy auditorium... a couple of teachers and a few students... People slowly filing in. One known face making us aware of the land struggle that is raging in Kerela of late... It seems to be another Nandigram in the making... but I will not go into that right now. The speakers were good, or may be because I was interested in the whole issue that kept me up.
The documentary started... but the subtitles refused to work... well they were not exactly subtitles per se but paraphrases... So as I waited for some text to appear, the person on the big screen would go on in a language I have no frikkin' clue about.

Came back to my room. Feels weird nowadays to be in a room and not be with someone else. But my roomy is busy with a presentation... might miss her performance... got a class.

Just when I thought that the day finally drawing to a close... one weird accusation came shooting at me...
I am just left tired. This place is now getting full of them. I am just left wondering how sometimes (thankfully not always) even I get involved in them too...

A Day in the life of a nobody

2008-08-27T14:56:00.010+05:30

People complain that their life is boring... I complain that there are too many things happening in and around my life that's making me tired.
I wake up, drag myself out of my bed to the loo, only to discover that the good for nothing no one's pet but want to be one dog has pooped right in the middle of the bathroom... So much for morning ablutions in peace...
Went to mess... bumped into a certain someone whom I have been avoiding like a plague since yesterday... a perfect morning gone down the drain.
The mess queue was longer than ever. A simple meal demanded that I stand in the queue for a perfect 40 minutes before I get four very oily puries that will make your stomach turn.
Over the food, one very enthusiastic senior (already up and ready with her jhola et al) tells me about one fiasco that happened last night. The campus seems to thrive with these nowadays.
No classes in the morning... Thanks to a friend in need friend, I enjoyed a warm cup of coffee with chocolate powder. Only to realize that I have exactly half an hour to finish my unfinished appointment with Mr Loo...

After a brain chewing (if there is any such word) I am greeted with a yucky looking vegetable curry in the mess. So had to make do with veg roll.

Afternoons are fun. Chatted with a whole lot of friends...to be more correct bitched. The clock is ticking another pathetically spent couple of hours staring at me...
Oh that means, gotta go now... may be i will catch up later.

Monday Morning Blues

2008-08-25T09:41:00.003+05:30

It's the beginning of the week. And yet it seems that mid-week crisis has already hit. I woke up with a hangover of so many things that are yet to be done. I have never been quite able to figure what do I do with my weekends. I seem forever busy and yet I wake up every morning with that weird feeling that a lot of things are left undone. Deadlines do not freak the hell out of me. I just manipulate my way past them. Here of course 'them ' implies a lot of things/people.
There is always this sense of deja vu,with which I am greeted everyday. The ever increasing pile of reading materials 'to be read' is largely responsible for that. No... I am not complaining. Who said I am complaining? I am just stating the facts of my existence...something which I would like to call life.
I have put away the table clock as far as possible from me. Time has become clever too. It refuses to be confined to my pace. I am arrogant too. I refuse to be bossed around by time, of all people. So I have now my own set of time that works on its own pace. And this where it has landed me in.
The not-so-distant sound of the train jolts me out of my reverie. Even my time pushes me to complete this article... But my mind is already full of so many things to do. So many more to read, some more negotiation with the inevitable time, the deal struck with slumber so that it does not strike when it is imperative to keep my eyes open (everybody knows where I mean).
And I drag myself to start another day, another week of so many left to be done feeling that would eat into me.

My kinda song

2008-08-23T09:59:00.001+05:30

Imagine there's no Heaven
It's easy if you try
No hell below us
Above us only sky
Imagine all the people
Living for today

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions
I wonder if you can
No need for greed or hunger
A brotherhood of man
Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world

You may say that I'm a dreamer
But I'm not the only one
I hope someday you'll join us
And the world will live as one

~ John Lennon

This one's for you...

2008-08-17T09:59:00.001+05:30

There were days when I didn’t understand you…
Felt like I don’t know you…
You may have felt the same way;
But you always thought the best for me.

My life has found a definition-
Thanks to your love and nurturing.
I was like a potter’s clay-
Ready to be molded
Wherever the forces of life took me.
But you stood like the deep rooted tree
Sheltering me…
And anchoring me-
To life’s realities.
With you I began to see life in a whole new light.

Ma,you have always been the torch-bearer
And believe you me, so you shall always be,
Forever and for always…

Midnight conversation

2008-08-11T01:14:00.005+05:30

Raag kore na raaguni

mukh kore na beguni

bus asbe ekhuni

chhut te hobe tokhuni

bus er pichhon pichhone

ki shunte se ki shone

bus er gaye kathal fol

tar nei pa dani nei hatol

kole tomai nilo na

jaiga to r chhilo na

tai bole ki ragte hoi?

dhoirjo dhore thakte hoi!!!

- Shankha Ghosh
Courtesy: Samata Biswas

Wandering wonderment

2008-08-09T22:28:00.003+05:30

I sit and watch as the tiny ripples of water flow past me
it is like time flowing past you
i have somewhere to go
but my mind refuses take my body
anywhere ... no where.
It is a beautiful day
the smell of newly washed leaves
the strong breeze that brings it towards me.
I am enraptured
carried away to the other me
the me who wants to be a nobody
the me who does not want to leave the gentle assurance of the mother's voice.

I woke up with a warmth on my cheek
i haven't been woken up such for a long time
always rubbing the sleep from my eyes
hurrying to wherever my feet took me.

My heart warmed up
and a weird pain crept into me
happiness was short lived
i knew this will go too
there is something so volatile so powerful
i could never hold on to it.
Every time that soft end of the sari
just slipped between my fingers.

I am just left wondering
will i ever get back those days...

Let Me Be ME...

2008-05-26T09:24:00.000+05:30

(This poem was written some years back... in a mood I cannot recollect... suddenly stumbled upon it... felt like sharing with the world... May not make sense to some... Don't worry, so it is with me :D )

I’ve read of people going to places
Leading a life of a bohemian
Seeing the world…
Not through books
(As I do)
But by being there themselves.
I wanna see the world
I wanna know its people.
Yet I’m held back…
The unknown devil’s fear holds me back.

I took one bold step
Those around me revolted.
I gave up,
For I put them first.
I am sick of it,
Something, that gives me nothing.
They corner you
They overpower you
They know you from childhood…
They make you regret
That you ever dreamt of being YOU.
Too many invisible eyes watch you,
From the dark corners;
Ready to pounce upon you.

I am JUST 19, and yet I’m old enough.
I’m stupid… I trusted a stranger.
How funny…
We say we need families
Family, that teaches you
To stick to the status quo,
Like a primitive man?
Nobody understands
That I just wanna be me!

Stream of Thoughts and Perceptions...

2008-04-27T11:19:00.002+05:30

The dogs bark incessantly. There's nobody stopping them. Peels of laughter reach me sailing on a waft of strong brezze. That sail into my room.The papers flutter. Strewn all over the floor. The pink curtain play hide and seek with me. The bird call out for its companion. I want to run out and answer...
Night's revels vanish in a flash. Non-working flush. A curse on someone's lips. The tap drips. The day rolls by. The bed is a better place than anywhere else in the world. The cell alarm beeps. Snooze. Then completely stop. The laptop screen flickers its light at me. Assignments beckon me. I try to run away. Home seems to be a vague luxury. A constant music plays...that runs havoc in my mind...
Music the only retreat away from anywhere...here, there, everywhere.

Jinxed... and still going strong!

2008-04-24T10:16:00.005+05:30

You know that there is something terribly wrong when some things refuse to be not repeated in your life.
The MMTS is one such thing. Proven to be the cheapest mode of transport in and around the twin city, the MMTS refuses to give a me chance to avail its opportunities. Three consecutive times I, along with my friends (different groups of friends but with me as the common factor) have missed the MMTS. The important point to be noted is that, everytime, we miss it just when the train is whistling into the other platform and we are standing on the other platform in front of the ticket counter...
Now what do you have to say?
Last time when we missed the train and then had to burn a hole in our pockets to reach the destined place, one of my seniors said that the next time they decide to take the MMTS and they have me along with them they better turn up half an hour before the scheduled time... and then on second thoughts she added - "May be then the train itself might get cancelled!"

Just When I Thought That Life Was Perfect...

2008-04-24T09:45:00.004+05:30

Just when I thought that my life was perfect, BANG came the shock! Bhalla asked me to redo the term paper. I was counting my days to go back home, or atleast be done with my exams, and now I have this on my head.

So when friends were eagerly asking me about my grades, I gave them an equally enthusiastic answer - "Oh I've been asked to rewrite!" - and took the pleasure in watching the smile fade out from people's faces. Well yes, people are kind to each other in such situations... you never know when disaster may strike you too!

Advices come pouring in and so does the abuses... It's like a wrong done against a commune which must be protected at all costs from disaster...

I wonder what's wrong with me....!!!

A 'cooler'-ful life...

2008-04-22T23:34:00.004+05:30

So we have coolers in each floor on either side of the new hostel. By either side I meant in the men's as well as the women's side of the hostel. We are a bunch of desperate lunatics who can go to any measures to make life 'cooler' in this hot Hyderabad days. Truly the temperatures are rising and so are tempers and our incapacities to life's various inconveniences...
The coolers had been waiting and adorning the hostel corridors for some days. I was surprised myself why somebody (atleast from the MH) hadn't tried their hands on it already. So yesterday when the mercury hit the ceiling...our "men" got desperate. So what the coolers are not in a working condition, they can make them 'work' according to their rules and logic. So they pulled the cooler near the water filter. Filled it up with water.
Wait....
No, they did not drink that water, nor did they throw it away. They filed their bottles with the filter water and then put those bottles inside the cooling water of the cooler!! So much for paying heed to the warning that screamed :CLEAN WITH ISO-PROPYLE ALCOHOL before using it.

To New Heights and Realms

2008-04-19T22:19:00.002+05:30

Life pulsates in my veins

The blood trying to break its reins

It's the young blood

Restless, brimming with potential.

The hearts are young

The world beckons them.

I brought them together

A bundle of young minds

Who dream to paint the world afresh

With colours that define their wealth.

Weird stuff make them grimace

The sunlight on their faces.

They're swayed by the tumultous world

Of fame and race.

They define anew everything around

A graffiti where ideas abound

The world for them

Is not what it's for y'all

Something which even they don't know

How it'll turn out.

But they are the green shoots

That fill the vacant spaces in me

I feel their sudden outbursts

In song n words n shakin' rears!

They remind me of my summer of '69

When i lost mine...

Gone are the joyous cries

Replaced by slam-dunk and high fives

Gone are the melodies rare

Giving way to

Two bases and one snare

Gone are the two oiled plaits

It's the spikes n shacks n locks n waves.

A tremor hereAnd a fire there

A spring in each step

And autumn in the air

The winter for them is vibrant and live

A collection of jazz for them to jive.

But hey...

They are the youth of today

Building their tomorrows

What'll stop them, they dunno.

I am forever grateful to them

For keeping me alive and taking me....

To new heights and realms.

Creation In My Hands

2008-04-19T21:59:00.002+05:30

I sit alone in my room
Snuggled under the shadow of my tin roof...
The rain falls
Like heavenly fountain
Till it reaches the earth
Down here ...
There's a shadow of hectic preparation
To open up our arms
As heaven drops its manna on us.
The wooden frameworks
Are standing... waiting... dripping
The clay figures inside the shed
Laugh at them
What a pity...
One day they wil be laughed at too.
But for me it's no laughing matter.
The creases on my forehead deepens
I'm worried - "will i make it this year?"
The heavens seem to spit upon my effort
I look up in indignation
I've been doing so every morning
But today...The clouds opened up
And answered my prayers
I thought falling on deaf ears
That ray of light
Washed away my tears
Tears... that dropped with the melting clay.
I start my work afresh
Undaunted ... Undefeated.
This is my battle for sustenance
I fight it every year.
The end is always known
But the path to it unclear.
The fresh supply of clay comes
My nimble fingers work upon
The hands, the face, the body...
I feel like God
The creation in my hands
Oh what pleasure there is
To give shape to the Divine...

When Life Overwhelms You

2008-04-06T16:41:00.003+05:30

You sometimes wonder when did those days of my life fly away? Time indeed flies... It's pretty obvious; only that we don't see the obvious most of the time. I don't want to sound like certain someone in one of his poems but I too realized this sometime recently in life. No I'm not passing out or anything... I still have one more year to go... may be less than a year but still...

The whirligigs of your life sweeps you off your feet... and you don't even realize when it goes out of hand. No my readers, once let me contradict you, I'm not on drugs or anything. You feel happy that you are doing things you always wanted to do but never really got the opportunity to do back in time in some place. You are happy that life has finally given you what you always wanted... People recognizing for what you are doing, appreciations and praises galore... in this cluds of happiness or whatever you want to call it, may be 9, I forgot the one person who means a lot to me.. specially in this place where I am staying away from home, my parents, my close ones, friends whom I thought would never get out of touch with and have. She was the first friend I had in this place and the one person I know till this moment I can trust.

But sadly enough, thanks to all those praises galore, I have been neglecting this one aspect of my life here. I did not even notice the obvious this time. I could not be there when she wanted to. When I was sailing in the glory of my success, the person who was like a pillar of support was feeling left out...

They say life teaches you a lot. The tears in my friend's cheeks managed to bring me back to the reality. Those tears taught me that there is nothing more important in life than those who care for you and wish that you achieve the best that life has to offer.

MY OLD LOST FRIEND

2008-03-28T16:19:00.001+05:30

My friend – I lost years ago,
I came across her one day
Memories of child hood began to flow-
That had refused to fade away.

Those days of fun
Spent under the clear sun-
Was nothing but pure joy,
The doll’s house
The game of cat-n-mouse
The toy king and his convoy!

Then we grew up, with books pulling us apart
Yet we tried to hold on –
A thin string still connecting our heart
And which one day was gone.

Each went in our own way
As life taught us to dream and pray
But deep within our heart we cried-
For once –
Give me my friend for old time’s sake.

Then one day we come face-to-face
After a decade’s long wait,
What an irony, that we just walked past
Not even changing our pace.

They say that time is the best healer –
But to me it is the greatest stealer,
For it is to Time that lost my friend
With whom I wanted this journey to end…

INANE DIALOGUE

2008-03-26T23:55:00.004+05:30

This friend of mine is one of the closest ones that I have here in this anjaane city. We are the perfect example of the love-hate relationship that exists between mallus and bongs! These are some the hilarious and the most innane pieces of conversation that we have had over Gtalk...
Mind you, we both are just a floor apart... Lazy bums that we are we converse this way!!

sneha: did u see the list of names that we got!????
me: yeahhhhhhh!!!!
sneha: this is exactly WHY i was against this idea
me: woh man!
sneha: =/
Peer2 peer??!!
me: i wash my hands off this
sneha: Taar: The String that lets us to Express???
i want to cry
i really want to sit down and weep my lungs out
me: wat abt audacity?
sneha: someone's said domino mag

me: WGASA????
LOL
sneha: and they ve included that in the list
i mean, why
WHY??!!!
EFLUence!?
me: wats ths /something/somethng/...../....???
sneha: telekinesis!!!
me: stupid corner?!
sneha: waaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiill!!
me: flluent eflu...THY VOICE!!!

sneha: :((
me: THY VOICE!
Wat do they think of us? - organized chaos??
bitextuality!
mummmmyyyeeeee!!!!
sneha: i seriously want to cry
me: amritha is almost rolling on the floor...
says hilarious
sneha: i swear i'm gonna caste my vote for bitextuality and taar
me: lol

sneha: and maybe WAGSAGA watever
=/
me: silence is the best option...peace....om.....
sneha: silence??!
i m fuming
there's smoke coming outta my ears
i swear there is
me: ur hair doesnt help at all
plz do not come dwn and kill me!!!
sneha: pooooooooooodi
me: lol

sneha: i'm gonna go to ishita's room and jump
me: good none taught me mallu
y bother the poor kid
ppl hv strtd tking their picks too!!!
sneha: i REFUSE to be the editor for a mag that calls itself apna EFLU
i'm an inch away from murder

MY CRAZIEST NIGHT...

2008-03-26T00:56:00.005+05:30

The experiences I have had in this place (till now) will be something that my memory will refuse to dump in the garbage trash of obsolete memories. The most recent is the one that I had on the evening before the day the second issue of the magazine was to come out...
4:00 PM - I decide that I will not take my second Spanish sessionals.
4:30 PM - Sneha gives me a list of the names and asks me to come up with funny bylines as soon as possible. Then comes the grueling task of coming up with crossword...something I have never done in my life before.
6:00 PM - I stop dilly dallying and decide that I will seriously not take the exam
8:00 PM - frantic editing and layout work going on.
Vivek with his philosophies was not helping us in this stressful condition.
Sneha is almost on the verge of committing murder...!!
I, trying to be the smart ass, call up the Printing guy, assuring him that we are on our way.
8:15 PM - Sneha refuses to get the point that she is working on her laptop... which can be moved to places. M y (for once) sane suggestion of taking the laptop along with us and making a move to leave for God's sake was falling everywhere but into Sneha's ears!!!
Finally, illumination dawns on Sneha and without a second thought she grabs her lappy and runs out of the room and out of the hostel and towards the gate!
Thankfully, or may be unfortunately, given that we are called the "conjoined twins" by a majority of the campus (thanks to Upi) I could read her mind and action...
I follow her out of the room grabbing our wallets and cell phones. Vivek...late to 'get the point' as usual follows us a tad bit behind.

The next scene: Vivek (who manages to outrun us) running towards gate 3. Followed by me (still running) carrying an odd assortment of multiple cell phones and wallets. Then comes Sneha carrying an entire laptop with a pendrive sticking out from one of the USB ports!! Quite a sight we were i must say!
Autowallah has mercy on us... agrees to go without much qualms...

On our way in the auto: Sneha is still working on the layout!! The touch pad and the cursor seemed to have a mind of their own...and Vivek and I were mute spectators to this 'Sneha and mouse' chase...
I decide to be the smart ass again... I call up the printer and tell them that we are almost there when we were at least 20 minutes away.

We finally reach: The man is more relieved to see us actually there in flesh and blood than us reaching there.
Well this is just the beginning...
A call comes from Vrinda (back in campus) - Sai, the xerox center, has not bought the A3 sheets!
After some convincing that Vivek can go by herself the guy actually makes a move. Thankfully he gets a free ride from the owner to General bazaar where from he is to buy the papers. And mind you the guy has not got a dime on him!

After a lot of other mini dramas we finally reach campus armed with our MASTER COPY!
Sai gives a "better news". The machine's not working. So we probably cannot start photocopying before morning! We fix up a time with him... At the insane hour of 6 in the morning!

THE NEXT DAY 5:45 AM - Something buzzing.... zzz..... zzz....
I pry my eyes open... Ishita calling... hearing someone else's voice on the phone... blabbing some thing in Bengali (well it was Sneha on the other side trying to wake me up). I hear a calm voice say "Asmita, this is Sneha here. I can't understand a word you are saying but I think it is time you wake up... and call Ishwar Bhaiya" (the xerox guy). Given my luck, I catch the man in the act! He was in the loo! (let's rhyme)... The things that we do!

6:00 AM - In front of Sai Xerox... Sneha me and Vivek... Gandhiji ke teen bandar. (okay this one does not rhyme... big deal!)
The photocopying finally starts... and the rest is history!

HOLI HAI ! !

2008-03-24T21:41:00.000+05:30

Water water water everywhere...

2008-03-23T16:12:00.006+05:30

The raindrops keep fallin' on my head...

I love it when the drops-

Fall pitter patter on your face.

It's been raining all day,

And all night.

Life has come to a stand still-

The window is the only vision

To the world outside;

But I'm glad it is so...

The trees afar in the horizon

Sway their green tops in joy.

The water caresses my face

As it drains down to my feet.

I feel like the tree...

My head swirling in the motion.

But my life is standstill now;

It's now drained off life-

For reasons unfathomable...

I can still hear the rain-

Hitting the muddy field outside.

We ran out when the first showers came;

But now life is a shade dark-

A shade grey.

But let it come down...

And shatter the walls,

Let the rain come down...

And wash away the pain

Let a new day come...

THE NIGHT IS STILL YOUNG

2008-03-23T10:15:00.008+05:30

A ride down the river

Of what is left still;

The night is young,

The water restless-

It carries me-

Into the lanes

Crisscrossing my mind.

A window opens up-

I see the past;

The past of not today

But of yesterday,

Of the first step that treaded

On the soft muddy banks.

The first step of one man

That becomes a giant leap

For the Brits.

The distant sounds of music

Coming in snatches;

I go back even further-

The night plays a magical charm…

Angels in bright raiment,

Touching silently

The soul within;

It is ephemeral,

The touch… intoxicating

The night is still young,

I open my eyes

The lights glare back at me,

The old boatman gives a toothless smile

Says, “amra eshe gechi…”

An Open Letter to George Bush!!

2008-03-21T12:12:00.004+05:30

HOWDY PRESIDENT BUSH,
Since you ain't tuned in to what the rest of them people around the world is saying, I reckon that I gotta talk to you in a lingo that you'll understand. How you doing Mr. President? Trust you's doing good.
I just gotta tell you how mighty sad I was feeling, and still am I guess, when I saw them Twin Towers being blown to smithereens. I reckoned that when that happened, like all them Texan cowboys we see in movies, you would come out with guns blazing.
But Lord Almighty, you could have knocked me down with a feather when you, looking kind of bushed during the first press conference, told us people that you was gonna wait for them FBI boys to come up with evidence before you started smoking out the bad guys.
I was mighty pleased to hear you say that. "Right on, George! Now you're talking!" I said to myself. You kind of reminded me of that country cousin of yours that we folks in India used to see on TV - you know the guy I am talking about "Walker, Texas Ranger".
But I gotta tell you, Mr. President, you sure as hell ain't no Walker - cos you ain't a man of your word. You went ahead and bombed Afghanistan without showing us folks the proof you was talking about. You really had no proof when you started dropping all them bombs on them poor folks in Afghanistan, did you? I am figuring that all that talk about evidence was pure baloney. Anyways, you gave your cowboys the bombs and told them to have fun with them in Afghanistan. So what if they bombed a wedding party and killed a lot of innocent people?
Heck, it was nothing but "collateral damage". Hey, this is war and all is fair in love and war right? Can't make an omelette without breaking a couple of eggs, right? Cutting to the chase, your cowboys did such a good job that right now we sure as hell don't know where them Al Qaeda hombres are.
Earlier they were all herded together, but now you've got them scattered all over the place. Why in tarnation did you go and do that for? As for Osama, you ain't got no clue if he is dead or alive, do you? For all you know he could be hiding right under your nose. Better check the basement of the White House, Mr. President.Anyways, when your planes bombed Afghanistan nobody really said nothing. That's the reason I reckon you acted like the Lone Ranger; and with that sidekick of yours Tonto (Tony Blair) acting as the Voice of America, you went about doing what you damn well pleased.
You claimed that it was OK bombing Afghanistan, but when we Injuns said we is going to take care of business in POK, you got on the hotline pronto and asked us to have a powwow with your newfound buddy in Pakistan - General Busharuff. Or is it Musharuff?
What's the deal, Mr. President? How come you got different sets of rules to get rid of terrorism- one for you and one for us folks? I reckon we folks in India should have seen all this coming. We should have cottoned on pretty quickly that you ain't no friend of this here country. After all, you have gone and named your dog India! Not Pakistan, not Iraq, not Iran, not even Saddam, but India. Sure tells us folks what you think of this here country. Well, I got to tell you this Mr. President. Since you took over, quite a few Injuns have named their dog "Bush". So there!
Now you say that Iraq is next on your hit list. You're just itching for a fight, ain't you? Reckon you watched too many of them cowboy movies while you was growing up. For a long time for the life of me I just couldn't figure out why you was always hollering for Saddam's blood. Now everything is clear as daylight. You ain't after him cos he's stockpiling all them chemical weapons. I reckon you Yanks have ten times the amount he has got. Nah, you ain't gunning for Saddam cos he's got them weapons. You're rounding up a posse to get him dead or alive cos your Texas sized ego is hurting. Saddam tried to kill your daddy when he was the president of the U. S. of A. So as daddy's little boy you are now just itching to take a potshot at the guy who almost made you fatherless. I guess you figure that your family honour is at stake or something. But I gotta ask you this. Ain't you taking this a bit too seriously? Ain't you going a teeny weeny bit overboard? Just cos Saddam tried to send your dad packing don't mean you gotta send your soldiers over to Iraq and end up killing innocent folks. Get real Mr. President. Wake up and smell the coffee.
The way I see it, this here fight is strictly between you and Saddam. It's pretty darn clear that the two of you don't take a shining to each other.
So why don't the two of you step outside and settle the problem. There ain't no reason to get the world involved in your personal problems, kapish?
Some Iraqi official was saying something about arranging a duel between the two of you. Frankly, I think that's one swell idea. Maybe we could have one of them gunfights that we see in them old cowboy movies.
I can just picture it Mr. President. You and the man who is always on your mind standing twenty paces apart. You in your black hat, leather cowboy boots with spurs, black pants, white shirt, a black waistcoat and two shiny guns with ivory handles hanging lazily around your slim waist.
Saddam in his green army uniform watching you like a hawk. The two of you licking your lips as the sweat begins to slowly trickle down your forehead. The hands twitching by the side of the gun; each one waiting for the other to make the first move. I can tell you Mr. President it'll make mighty interesting viewing.
And you won't have to worry about TV ratings neither. I'll bet my bottom dollar that all the major networks will fight tooth and nail to cover this here event.
Talk about the mother of all battles! "High Noon in Baghdad", "Gunfight in OK Corral II", "For a Few Petrodollars More". Some of the names for the event. What do you think? Anyways, if you win the fight, you get the regime change you have been hollering for. If Saddam wins, well, Dick Cheney becomes President. Either way, the rest of us people in this world can live in peace. If you do this, you might even be nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. So what do you say
Mr. President? Do we have a deal here?
Before I sign off Mr. President, I just gotta ask you something. In Afghanistan, you spent millions of dollars on bombs destroying buildings that ain't worth ten cents. No big deal, I suppose, cos you got a lot of bombs and I guess you gotta drop them somewhere. So Afghanistan was as good a place as any, right? Now it sure looks like it's Iraq's turn.
Tell me, do bombs have an expiry date or something? I mean do you gotta drop them somewhere before a particular date? Do they go bad after that?
P. S. Can't believe you ain't found no evidence against Saddam. Got something for you. Strictly between you and me, you hear? You ain't gonna believe your luck. Got this hot off the Iraqi grapevine. Earlier this year you choked on a pretzel, remember? If things had gone according to plan you would have been pushing up daisies by now. Guess what? The packet of pretzels was actually sent by Saddam! How do you like that? Still have the packet? Ask the FBI boys to dust it, Saddam's prints may be on it. That is the evidence you was looking for all along. Now, go get em George.
S. UPENDRAN

a moonlit night

2008-03-21T03:39:00.005+05:30

I toss and turn in bed... The night bears down on me. My eyes fly open and I look at the moon smiling down at me. It's beauty beyond mortal description.The campus is otherwise quite. The usual barking of the dogs at night are absent tonight. It is well past 3:30 am and I lie awake on my bed, the moon light streaming into my room, splashing its white light all over the bed and my body. The tune of an old hindi song suddenly waft into the air from somewhere and I am reminded of another night, when someone whispered the lines of an old song, "where did the full moon rise, on the sky, or the kallai beach? Where did the flower of seventeen bloom, in the courtyard or on the sweet cheeks?"

The song is not in my mother tongue, but it holds a special meaning in my heart.

We have drifted apart from those intimate days when we used to pass nights savouring the presence of each other next to one another. The moon was the witness to those days of simple bliss.

Where are we now? Just where we were but no more enjoying each others' company in the midst of the silence. The silence that now pervades is awkward, something which we both try to aoid, and in the process end up avoiding each other.

I dream on of those days when words used to be spoken through our eyes, while we passed each other. We took the simple pleasure in breaking into a conversation without intent, and yet thoroughly enjoying it. Hours passed with us "speaking" to each other. Not an hour of the day passed without either of us whispering something to another.

The moon still smiles down on us. But we don't to each other. Our eyes meet. We both try to search something in them. But do the eyes find what they were searching for? The moon refuses to answer. I don't ask anymore. Even the moon does not say anything to me now. Just like we stopped saying anyhting to each other without explaining...

I asked but never got an answer. I stopped asking. It hurt me too much to witness the long silences and the refusals for explanation...

Tonight as I lie with the moon caressing my body I look at it intently truly seeking an answer...

The moon too takes its time to make up its mind... But tonight I have the ptience of the world... I can wait...

A Room of One's Own

2008-03-09T22:05:00.003+05:30

There was a time when I was assured of a room of my own with nobody to share it with. It was all mine and mine alone! But lo and behold there also came a day in my life when i decided to move out of my house to study outside. Dad asked me whether or not I will be able to cope with a situation where I'll have to share my space which for all theses years have taken for granted with someone elso whom I will get to know for the first time in my life!
First time given a chance to stay away from home and do whatever i want to do in whatever I want to do, I was more than reday to part with that coveted space of mine. I landed up here in Hderabad and the first day here was a reality check for me and for most of us here. Were put up not in the hostels but in the staff quarters and there we stayed for the next four months...we twelve girls and a dog.
Now as i write this I am comfortably seated in a relaxed easy chair enjoying the comforts of a room which has two separate tables and chairs, box beds, two cupbloards and most of all we two (in)human creatures, who are too bored and lazy to keep the room clean. The first few days were easy to do that but slowly as time went on, we too started taking this room too as granted. Sadly, here we don't have mum to do the clean up. So we stay in this shit, which of course is much cleaner for the guys, who voluntarily claim that they live in a pigsty.
S o the moral of the story is that we never appreciate the best we get in life but always focus on what's not there...

Home away from home

2007-11-26T21:22:00.001+05:30

It was the first time in my life I had this sudden sinking feeling...
For the last four months i have been practically counting my days to go back home... but lo and behold, when the time has actually come and people are actually gearing to go back home, I get this sudden feeling that I've become hooked on to this place!! Who could have thought that this place which I so hated during the first few days is actually pulling at my heart strings!!
The food which I so hated is now a part of my life...oh and the complaining about it too.
Sundays are loooong line waiting like jail ki kaidees to be fed god food for once a week. welll the food is really good on sundays, given the crap that they churn out everyday. The worst part is that they cook all the good food on the same day and the rest of the week we have to parctically starve ourselves, specially when the cash balance hits rock bottom.
Mondays are a faint affort to come back to our mad routine, though most of us thrive in that routine...
Well afterall, the saying that goes on campus is that people here study hard and party harder!!

Indeed no ampunt of bad food or workload can actually curb a CIEFLite's enthusiasm to party!
Well on that note i leave you guys for today...
will surely join you very soon!
CIAO

WINTER'S TALE

2007-09-30T15:21:00.004+05:30

Winter’s coming-
I can feel it
In my skin, my bones, my world,
The dark hazy shapes in the distance
Like monsters threatening my existence.
Men walk along the road
Kicking up dust in every step,
Their mouths parched
Their eyes hard
Cursing through their cracked lips.
Nature feels it too-
Waiting with silent trepidation
For winter to strip it off its leaves
It fights a battle
To give me-
My patch of gold on my bed.
The afternoons are long
Reading books
With my back to the sun.
Huddled figures
Clad in rags
Inches closer to the fire
Their eyes….
Speaking more than words
Tales of their lives of dire.
The world for me
Is closed a room
With a cloud of smoke
Near my window
It’s those roaring monsters
Puffing away
Choking me
My eyes burning, my throat drying
But they say-
It’s just winter coming.

2007-09-11T14:42:00.000+05:30

Make life meaningful by bringing in the colours of the native culture of this wonderful country. well what are your comments on the idea of fashion trendz falling for the age old ploy...get trapped in the mesh of age defying culture!!

2007-09-11T01:45:00.000+05:30

The Bhagalpur incident has once again shown what happens when power hungry people at the grassroot level take the law in their own hands. Mob mentality has been the characteristic of this section of people. While the whole populace of this "democracy" stares apalled at the video grab that flashes on their screens they stand mute to the inhumanity of the entire incident. The country talks about it, its opeople condemn such incidences but no one raises a voice. How long are we going to be dumb witnessed to such acts of inhumanity?