Words Are Dead Leaves

Nobel

2009-10-09T23:34:00.002+05:30

I lost 10 rupees to a friend today. Had wagered in favour of Morgan Tsangurai to get the Nobel Peace 2009. Was at City Centre when the news broke. He called to celebrate his win. Not that he had seen this coming. None of us had. After the initial gloat was over, he admitted to have been as baffled as I was then. Not that I was completely sure he was being honest.

Barak Hussain Obama, the recipient of this year's award just accepted his award with the requisite amount of humility and just the right amount of humour. Beamed live across millions of homes, with his own countrymen in disbelief, most unable to mutter anything beyond an almost incomprehensible, "Awesome!", he said this award was a call to action and would spur him on to achieve what he had set out to achieve.

But that is it, isn't it? You aren't supposed to be spurred on by the award. It is supposed to be the crown of your actions, not the base of it. We all share the European community's broad based sense of relief and cautious infectious optimism with the change of regime across the Atlantic but surely this is going overboard?
The man at the helm of a country waging two active wars, with troop numbers surging in Afganistan by 28,000 and escalating drone attacks in Pakistan killing civilians as collateral damage in the "War against Terror", Mr.Obama is hardly the apostle of peace.

The "President with the best intentions" Award perhaps but the Nobel? Obtuse though I am, I absolutely fail to see his "his extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy". He commissioned talks in the Middle East. To no immediate effect. He involved the U.N. Again, no effect. We are so terribly happy at the U.N. getting back to where it should have been all the time. It is ridiculous that the committee has cited Obama's stated position on bilateral negotiations as one of the factors for the decision.
Where, pray, is the peace? In the U.S. tacit coup attempts in Honduras? In his eight odd months of office, what key international work has been achieved? Climate change? Brilliant speech. Nuclear disarmament? Brilliant speech. Concrete work? Sorry, that is for the history books. We at the Nobel Committee do not care for such trivialities.

In the years to come, I will probably be proved wrong. And the seasoned greyheads in Oslo will probably be laughing triumphant, albeit tooth-less, smiles. They have probably correctly identified a trend. But to award a man for offering hope seems too much. His P.R. team maybe. I am sorry that the world has come to a state where we give away the greatest human prize for just being a decent being. Extraordinary conduct seems a dead ideal.

Of dreams and men

2009-09-29T21:46:00.003+05:30

I met the man of my dreams a couple of days ago. On the penultimate day of the Durga Pujo festivities. The fabulous news is that the whole thing is so brilliantly unrealistic than I cannot pine away at the possibility of it never clicking.

My dream guy is a rickshawallah. A tad above twenty would be my guess, who seated me on his three wheeler chariot and pedalled me home for about ten minutes. The guy, who, after a month and a half, has finally managed to wake me from the stupor I had got myself into, will probably never cross paths with me again. It is, probably, just as well.

Most Rickshaw journeys are sullen affairs devoid of smalltalk. For most people. The people who sit are far too busy or important to talk to the "little" people. The "little" people are much too overworked or worried about surviving the night to indulge their temporary masters.

I hailed him at the Lake Gardens Crossing; comfortably seated myself; gave him my posh address and reclined, at ease. He turned back and flashed a smile. I was surprised. Rickshawallahs are seldom so upbeat. He was bursting with energy, almost maniacal. Wary of talkative people in general, I didn't really like the guy. He asked me the time. I informed him. He asked me how I like his rickshaw. I mumbled an incomprehensible reply. He compared his rickshaw to a rocket, then a train," The Tufaan Mail". Slightly disappointed by my lack of enthusiasm, he vowed to show me his might. "Dekhbe, koto jore jete paari?". And, as if to win my appreciation, suddenly the rickshaw was the fastest thing on the road. He even managed to race a couple of "dudes" on a couple of bikes. And when they zipped past, he let out a laugh. He took both hands off the handlebar and felt the wind whipping past. He was smiling the whole way through. Not only was his smile infectious, his energy was too. He zoomed past the other rickshaws; performed semi-dangerous manoeuvres; let out deep roars of satisfaction at how fast his "baby" was.

At the Rickshaw Stand, I alighted and he looked at me, slightly flushed and asked me, " Baaro taka debe?". He was asking me for twice the normal fare. Ashamed probably at his seeming avarice, he sought to explain," Na..maane dada, Pujo-r shomoy..." Stammered an apology about it being the Pujo-s and him needing the money. I paid him the double fare and a rupee over that. He flashed another brilliant smile and asked sheepishly,"Raag koroni toh?"..." You aren't angry, right?"

I would not like to be with someone like him. What amazed me was his vivacity. The spirit that he had managed to retain after a day of back-breaking work. The hope amidst a desperate festival. The desire to feel the wind in his hair on an empty stomach. In a world where many of us succumb to much, much less, he isn't an inspiration. He is a dream.

Of phones.

2009-08-09T15:44:00.002+05:30

I have lost my phone. Officially misplaced. People know it has been stolen. It was.
At least I think it was.

It was new. It had a dent on the top left corner. It looked nice. Much too nice.

This is the third phone I have lost in the past 18 months. There will be many more.

I would have loved to say that I have lost a part of myself. That I miss the phone. The characteristic ring. But I don't really. I hate the inconvenience. But I don't want the phone back. I want a phone back.

I guess it was with me for too less a time to forge a bond. I am trying to be sad. Repentant. Responsible.

There are things more about the phone that will make you scream. Things like how the first caller was him. The last too. How both time, I was left stung. The first time he spoke haughtily. The last time, not at all.
I didn't want to type out these things. But now that I have, I think it gives the whole post a pretty fashionable melancholy feel.

I don't miss my phone. I like the fact that I can blame all the ills of my life on it. And now that it is gone, hope again. Even if in vain.

I will start calling people again tomorrow. Today is transition. Not from phone to phone. From life to life.

Untitled 2

2009-08-01T23:07:00.005+05:30

When I was little, my mum used to take me to the local market on Sunday evenings. I remember this one evening when we had gone to the fishmonger's and then to buy some stationery. At the shop, somehow, I lost hold of my mum's hand and didn't realize. She didn't either. She happily went off.

I remember standing there, amidst a crowd, trying to look for her hand or hair. I remember giving up. I was found, ten minutes later, my mum visibly distraught. I remember not understanding what the fuss was all about.
For, you see, not for one moment did I think I was in danger. I never doubted my safety. There was this strange strong faith that things had to work out in the end. This was a minor blip. I would be found. Nothing could go wrong. Mum is the superman.

I wish I had the faith now. I think I lost him today. He wears the shirts I picked out for him. He carries the bag I chose for him. He uses my phone. He lives off my love.Its sad to know that he doesn't need me any more.
The sad thing isn't that he doesn't talk to me anymore. The sad thing is that I think he has broken my trust.

Twenty

2009-07-07T01:25:00.003+05:30

It has been an hour and twenty six minutes since I turned twenty. TWENTY. A friend told me to be gay cuz its my birthday and another told me to be sad cuz I'm a step closer to death.

Was out shopping with friends. The gloom has lifted somewhat. I am tired of that sinking feeling; I am still uneasy and sometimes despondent but at least I'm looking for a way.

People ask me if I want to be younger. Of course, I say. Not actually. I am pretty happy with my generation. It would be good if I were, say, thirteen. But then, I can always be thirteen. I love the fact that I grew up with Harry Potter; shared battered old mouldy copies of the book with clueless friends, aged as he did, lived as he did, cried as he did. No one else will know the exhilaration now.

One hour and thirty five minutes ago, I grew out of my teenage. I know I didn't party wild every night or get crazy in the middle of the street or managed a girlfriend at fourteen, but I did it my way. At twenty, I think I can say I used my teenage to grow up; to experience the flavours life has to offer, the love, the rain, the sorrow, the snow. I had friends, I have lost friends, I have gained new ones. There are those who love me, love me to death, those with whom I have never been "romantically" linked yet who know that the love between us is stronger than most couples.
Not for this birthday then, self pity and sorrow. I am grateful for everybody. My friends, my outer circle who pep my up, my inner circle who hold me and those who don't call me now but still care.
I have come a long way from the wide eyed boy peering over the balcony on a rain swept day. I'm big now. Old. Not as honest. Never the hip teenager, I don't expect a fashionable adulthood; I don't nurse hopes for universal adulation for my shades or shoes. I don't hope to dangle a girl on my arms. I don't expect to pierce things.
To continue the way I have would be nice enough. Its been fun. For the love. The care. For the countless friends. For school. For college. For food. For you. For him.
The hour and fifty minutes of my new year have been great. I am actually not bummed at turning twenty.

Sad and gay

2009-07-03T00:19:00.001+05:30

There is an overwhelming feeling of sorrow. The gloom catches hold of me every time I am not engaged. Its not the ennui. There is an sense of impending misery. A dim view of life. Too much Morissette is bad for me.
The person I thought I has lost, then thought re-gained has been lost again. Distant, inexplicable boundaries separate us while we strive to make tedious, uneasy small-talk across the divide. He isn't my boyfriend. He is much more.

Issues that I used to be passionate about don't excite me as much anymore. I guess I've seen too much. After 4 years, decriminalization of "gay sex" didn't excite me as much as it did a lot of other people who called me to register their joy.
Its never gonna be the same. People will still be ghettoized as part of the "community", denoted as "gays" and "fag" will be still a stinging insult on someone's manliness. Dignified lives are what we were fighting for but then we gave over to the hoopla.
For a moment, step back and realize there are people who aren't dancing at pride parades, who won't say they're proud to be gay and shouldn't be forced to. Give them a choice.
To hope for a day when a child would grow up without worrying if he is gay or how he'll come out seems an outrage. Its all heading the wrong way.
Most don't understand."India has a long tradition of gays; tolerance."..."Its a very sensitive issue"...only break my heart. The problem is that we get carried away cuz there are a fat lot of bigots out there who scream to take the majority's views into account and knock over the "handful of gays". In the end, are we losing sight of the bigger picture?
I recognize the historic occasion.I appreciate it. Let all debates rest and sexuality buried. Can we do that?

I turn 20 next week. End of my teenage. Not that I did much with it. I did, actually. My way. I'll probably be sad on my birthday as well. I'm getting old.
Last year of college. I enjoyed the past two. My way, again. I'll miss it. My way. My teenage too.

Auden

2009-06-29T02:04:00.002+05:30

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good.

The post below is why I put this up.

Henry

2009-06-29T01:17:00.003+05:30

Does anyone know what to write about before the writing's done? For the past two weeks, I have over magnificent hills and gazed at depth less gorges, at gurgling streams of frothy white water and stood transfixed at rivers plunging to great depths over green mossy mountains. I have feigned sorrow at great rusted barely standing gates, once lovingly engraved, now mossy, solitary watchers in the midst of a lush field...roads, half paved, that branch off the highway, only to lead nowhere. Signs that proclaim the existence of non-existent stadia and schools round the bend.
I have tried to get moved by the passing of a legend or the sad proclamation of a student protester as he left home perhaps never to return.

I guess I can't escape being selfish; as most of us. If there is a forced, self important tone ingrained in here, pay it no heed. Do not rebuke the writer on account of that. Rise above me.
Let his name be Henry. He was my friend. And so much more. My laughter. My jealousies...my joy. I was his refuge. His brother. Everything that had seemed important enough to argue about seems insipid now. Insignificant little bits fly about in the face of that torment which announces daily of the rift, the loss of the person.
Henry had a friend. Henry loved that friend. I liked the friend and frequently argued with Henry...over little things about her and him. I thought we were stronger.
Now Henry's bond grows stronger with the friend and I look at them from the edge of the road. Henry cuddled up to me. Henry is cold over the phone.
Henry is not sure if he'll want to spend time with me henceforth. I miss him. Not him. I miss us. I never had a friend as he. Will I again?
I am not sure how I'll react if he stops all interaction. One thing is for certain. I will not blame him. And I hope I'll reach a day when I won't blame me.
I am lonely now. Loneliness has lost its appeal because of Henry. Henry told me today that they had grown closer. Henry told me today us getting close as before wasn't possible.

At the risk of sounding pathetic,I say this, "I loved you Henry."

Realize

2009-06-07T11:33:00.004+05:30

It has been a day of realizations. And an unexpectedly irritating Sunday.

Was watching cartoons at 8 this morning.The mystery that Scooby and the gang were trying to unravel seemed childish and insipid. I crave childish and insipid. And then, in the midst of Scooby's atrocious Hindi gibber-jabber, I recalled why I loved him. The song, rather, a song, that used to be a part of every episode...I would sit and bear the torture for that one song...How I loved that one song; How I miss it now.

People who don't receive their calls time and again are irritating. Even if they are your best friend. Also very irritating are the "Missed Call" people. Aaargh.

And as I am typing this out, one of the irritating "I never receive my calls" person did receive my call and it turned out he was sleeping...Being drowsy adds this sweetness to his voice and I can't be angry with him.

Had the most awesome day ever yesterday. A Sri-Lankan friend is in town and we went out for lunch, walked and walked and walked and rounded off sipping amazing tea while watching the throng milling in Park Street...He has come down from Bombay( I insist) and has been travelling across India alone for the past month. Atop a bridge off Patna, the sun setting over the Ganges, he said he had wished there were someone by his side; he had wished he were not alone. Melancholy, yes; but also strangely surreal.

As much as I feign empathy for the cyclone victims, deep down I detest donating money. Biting realization.
Friends can be selfish. Rather, people you call your friends can be selfish. My Lankan friends' friends can't spare an afternoon to see him. And to think the only reason for his being in Calcutta is to meet them...

I find blogging difficult nowadays; signs of advanced age, they tell me.

Closure

2009-05-31T20:30:00.002+05:30

He is fine now...he is much much more than alive. Thank you everybody. For being there.

I am back to my blissful state of petty insecurities, fights and quarrels. We are fighting at this very moment.

He still might collapse any day and neither one of us nurses dreams of "Happily Ever After"...but I got what I wished for. Another day of glorious sunshine.

India and tennis.

2009-05-31T20:13:00.002+05:30

25th May 2009 was an important day for us. And the Indian democracy. On this day, The Supreme Court of India granted bail to a frail looking man of 52...clean shaven, ailing, held under the "Chhattisgarh Special Public Security Act 2005 (CSPSA)"...you could scarcely believe him to be a terrorist, waging war against the state, conspiring against the union. But then, what do I know?

A gold medallist from The Christian Medical College, Vellore, he chose to work amidst the squalor and penury that is the tribal belt of Chattisgarh. In an area where half of the population is malnourished, where thousands of children never live to see their fifth birthday, he was a beacon of hope, insanely popular. Laurels were heaped on him...for both his medical and humanitarian work.
And then, Santoshpur happened.
On the 31st of March 2007, several tribals were killed by the state police under the guise of an encounter...A Human Rights tussle ensued. He was arrested by the state police under charges of sedition in May.

I am not much of a patriot. At least not as much as those who are now crying themselves hoarse...screaming profanities at Australia. It seems though that my "Greatest Country in the World" doesn't care much for dissenting voices. Through the entire ordeal, not one party spoke up for the good doctor. 22 Nobel prize Laureates did.
We all are so caught up in celebrating our democracy that we refuse to see the darker side. The side that suppresses journalistic freedom...that throttles protests armed with a draconian law...where, even the highest court in the land dismisses a bail petition with a single line decree...where politics of vendetta is the only kind of politics on the planet. The Salwa Judum, created by the state to fight Naxals is today an alternate militia trapping the tribals in between...and anybody who raises a voice is deemed a Naxal.

I will not pretend I care for them; for the past half hour, I have been more interested in Nadal losing than him. However, I refuse to drag myself into the " Aussie KAMINEY ki aulad" campaign. Probably., a little sight inward wouldn't be out of place before we shout at others... for my patriot friends,therefore, who feign to care, just two words. Binayak Sen.

Of being alive.

2009-05-17T23:51:00.002+05:30

It is the second night. Which will lead on the third morning. Of agony, frantic prayers, tears, tension and above all, fear. Fear that the third morning will never lead to a third night. I tremble at the thought.

It is annoying being cryptic, but the person in question desires the secrecy. I can't name him. He hasn't even told his mum what is going on. Or his best friend. Or his love.

That Saturday morning, as I sat quietly relishing the glory of a joyous Mamata Banerjee, the phone rang...him wheezing on the other side of the line; all an age ago. Time then has past in one whirlwind of tormented emotions, fingers painfully crossed and praying as hard as you could possibly be. And above all, fear. Overwhelming, dark, despondent, macabre fear that threatens to engulf all.

As I sit in the comfort of my home, its half past midnight and the world sleeps...perhaps I will too, in a few hours. And will wake up to the all-paralysing fear, the agonizing wait for a call, his voice.
"Its no use lying to you...I'm bleeding and the doctors are not hopeful this time...".I never knew I could pray this hard or get this afraid. Or this anxious. Everything seems petty now. My conversation with friends is either cosmetic or distant. My concerns are dwarfed by my fears.Death takes you away and never returns... its irreversible.
The first night, he made me promise to tell someone he loved her. To look after her. I hated her. I hate him for telling me to do this if, as he put it, he isn't around. He could barely speak. He told me to not visit him. He couldn't bear it.
I never realized love was this strong a bond. I bet he didn't either. I know nothing will happen to him... He fights as I type. He promised me. He will come back to me.
He can't die. He won't. He is just sick, that is all.

Untitled

2009-05-09T08:57:00.003+05:30

I am sick of being sad...I am mad at myself for letting me be so melancholy for so long. Saw a setting sun the size of the millennium ball yesterday;shored up my mood considerably. Examinations underway, I have decided to not be sad. Its just not worth it.

The elections are underway here in Bengal and its huge fun. I like it almost as much as music. Mamata Bannerjee, me on my bed with Pakeezah plugged into my ears. Wouldn't have it any other way.

Channels have cried themselves hoarse over the past three days at how strife torn Nondigram registered a 88% turnout and Delhi clocked a placid 45%...the awakening of the masses, as they put it.
A man of seventy woke up at seven after a tiring day in the field the previous day. Tired but determined to register his franchise, he walked to the polling booth in the oppressive heat that characterises rural Bengal nowadays...walked back home only to find out his home gutted by fire,"accidentally" set on fire by "alleged" political goons. He stands outside his home with not a straw in the world to call his own. He cries, buries his face in his hands and you zoom into his now dead face to listen to his hollow, unsteady, almost suicidal voice while you ask him,"So, did you vote for the CPI(M)?"
From the comfort of my bed, I watch them. I have the luxury to contemplate. They don't. They are far too busy seeing their lives go up in smoke. Or like the distraught lady in Asansol who kept asking every passer-by,"Ami Ghashphool-e vote dilam bole eta holo?"..."Did this happen cuz I voted for the flower?". She is too busy crying, you see, to take part in our hoopla over the success of elections in Nondigram.
2009 has seen violence erupt in several parts of normally peaceful Bengal,with scores of people dead, houses gutted, lives shattered.People too scared to step on the village road cuz they're sure to be shot in the open. Or, as the Election Commission puts it,"Isolated little incidents of violence".
My friend consoles me, says the local committee of a certain party will disburse money to these people once the elections are over. He says it will never come out in the open...so its alright I guess.It shouldn't matter.
My largest democracy in the world marches on. As Lata Mangeshkar puts it," Yeh chiraag bujh rahe hai, mere saathe jalte jalte..."
I am feeling really cheery today.

Just a day...just an ordinary day

2009-04-27T00:06:00.002+05:30

The person who has been responsible for my Love's physical survival is dead. He passed away last night. He messaged me at 3 while performing the last rites. I was sleeping.

I couldn't bring myself to utter insincere words of consolation. Instead, for the first time in 4 years, I prayed to Jesus for a man I never knew.
He was my Love's doctor.

All day today, I wanted to hold his hand...he seems broken. He doesn't admit it, he doesn't cry, he is busy being a man. He'll be here tomorrow.

For about an hour today, all my jealousy, my insecurities, my grudges were replaced by this hollow voice, this weird unstable feeling of absolute helplessness...he says it hasn't sunk in yet. It seems surreal.

I have been trying to empathise, to share the pain but all my efforts seem cosmetic and I am afraid he knows it too.

Its a still summer night now and after a long day he has finally drifted off to sleep. I however find that useless banter is of much help...I am having a mock fight with a feisty friend and I see its working. I am not better, I am more diverted. Tinkling laughter, my own voice, is shocking me...after all that has happened today.

I thought of writing this out in better words but this is all I can manage...I hope to see him tomorrow. I hope to have him with me. We'll go out for dinner. The days will roll on. Without him.

2009-04-10T09:31:00.002+05:30

Haven't been in the mood to write anything for quite some time now. I am not depressed, perhaps in love. "In love" sounds very very tacky. And I hate tacky.

At a play yesterday, something quaint happened. A friend called me up during the interval. She was outside the theatre. Went out in search of her; met the guards outside. They enquired if I had vacant seats beside mine. I nodded. They let her in...told her to go enjoy the play. The perks of Kolkata.

I am not upbeat, hence I type this out very very fast, cuz I am sure I will lose the will to type in a matter of seconds. It has happened quite a few times over the past few days.

Something is changing. I am very aware of that. I am not sure if it is a good thing though. 3 months remain of my teenage. I will be turning 20 this fall. I will miss this age.
I know it has neither been a tumultuous ride nor have I really "grown up into a man" over the past 6 years. I wasn't a normal teen and so probably I won't be a normal adult. I miss being young. I miss going to school. I miss open spaces. Huge expanses. Roads. Cows. I miss eating in. I miss the person I was.

2009-03-21T19:24:00.002+05:30

I finally realized why Tom never wins.

A friend who was crashing with me over the past week has just left. Missing him.

Stressed to the T. Watching a lot of TV.

Am feeling very very insecure about my relationships now. Maybe I need to rethink stuff over. Still officially single though.

On this day.

2009-03-06T23:23:00.003+05:30

Its strange how you can misjudge people. And circumstances.

I have not had time to post anything last week because of that. The fact that people kept changing in my eye. The fact that though the world didn't go Topsy-turvy, it did change in little subtle yet discernible ways. In ways it will never be the same.

I just came across an old orkut profile of an old friend. I never knew him in person. I never managed to know him. And though I know Face book is more fashionable now, he is lost and I miss him.

As I type this out, an old friend who I thought had grown distant I.M.-ed me . She asked me if I wanted anything from Bombay where she is now for an internship. I feel warm.

Discussed terrorism with 4 unknown people in an auto. An old lady smiled at me. We agreed that though India had its share of problems, we indeed are glad to be alive. As she put it, "Beche toh achchi."

A person who everybody told me and still tells me is bad, is not so bad. It is like the culmination of a great film where you don't know what to think cuz what just has happened is much too grey. I remembered all the reasons I liked her. Though she was a bad teacher, probably, she isn't that bad a person. Stayed up with us unfed, had her lunch with us at the end of the massive event we were organizing, smiled, didn't let us go hungry, didn't force us to hurry off without finishing, thanked us after it was all over and waved goodbye cuz she had to go to a wedding; with a twinkle in her eye.

Someone else isn't so nice after all. I apologize for being cryptic but I think if I go into greater detail, I shall remain bitter for the rest of the day tomorrow. And I have to spend three more semesters with this person. Its not just that my opinion of him has altered, it is that the person has fallen. In my eyes. In others eyes. In ways I think irredeemable.
I am not merely hurt. I am probably not that hurt at all. I feel vengeful. More than ever. I am forcing myself to be vengeful. I know his interests will not be harmed as a result of this and so he won't bother. I know he won't care. He is much too cold. Someone had warned me before. How I wish I had heeded to that word.

2009-02-15T00:16:00.002+05:30

Back from Delhi. And exhausted. It was fun because I knew I was coming back. Home. Kolkata.

Walking down a road at 4 in the morning in the biting chill can be uplifting. I saw people in new light. Sometimes what we project ourselves to be is not really what we are. Old friends or dusty memory or 7 pegs of whisky is perhaps what it takes to bring us out. At 4, I realized wild partying intoxicated teens aren't demons. They are perhaps better people than us.

A friend loves babies. I hate them. I love him.

Inhaled more smoke this time around than any other past trip. All sorts of drugs went around. In the haze, things became clearer. "Living your life" isn't such a cliched line after all. The problem is, people tend to get lost in the haze. And I am talking not just about the "addiction". I am talking about themselves.

I am glad to be back. Kolkata lets you be. Delhi made things clearer. But it takes Kolkata to have a clear eye.

Compy

2009-01-29T23:17:00.002+05:30

Sold my computer today. They disconnected every little part and detached it from the body and lay them on the dusty floor. The cables strewn across the floor, the monitor black and the speakers looking mangled, it was the final hour. Eight long years had passed with numerous mess-ups, innumerable crashes, millions of curses hurled at the now black monitor, lots and lots of thumps and slaps on its metal body.
The final piece has been removed now. I am moving. And moving on. My new home has no place for the old junk. Its someone else's junk now. A new history is about to begin. I can almost hear the weird noises it used to make when starting up...and I know its all in my head now.

Kharagpur Diaries

2009-01-26T01:30:00.002+05:30

Looked at the sky for the first time in months. On the way back from I.I.T. Kharagpur, on the highway. Walking at 11 in a slightly tingly chilly weather. Trucks lined up for as long as the eye could see, for miles and miles and miles and a small tea stall with modest stocks of biscuits.
I had stepped out of the car cuz he insisted. It was he who had suggested the road trip. And shelled out the money. And grumbled half the way. Albeit cutely.
We looked at the sky together tonight. And as I looked at the stars that twinkled almost too beautifully to be true, I whispered to him something. I told him that everytime you look at the sky like this, you get this flutter in your heart that tells you that The Lion King could be true.

He agreed. And while the traffic petered out under the fog that had so suddenly descended, I found a friend beside me. And somebody much much more. Who had made me see the sky.

Gaza

2009-01-07T23:58:00.002+05:30

Do we care?

2007

2009-01-01T23:42:00.003+05:30

People tell me its important to post on the new year. I never could understand how to celebrate the dawn of another year. I still can't. I spent the day in a zoo and the night at home. I didn't party. I didn't want to.

On my first day at college, I had made a friend. He was shy and seemed intimidated. He seemed dazed. I liked him. We talked. We liked each other. Though I steadily made other friends and many many more acquaintances, we still walked back from college and talked to each other. We watched films together. At times, while walking on a sunny afternoon on a deserted pavement, I thought perhaps this was what college was about; sad at leaving my school, I thought this was the bond people talked about. This was growing up.

It was a Wednesday morning. I was late for my classes; at the foot of the college stairs, I met him. He was heading in the opposite direction. I waved, he responded. He was beaming. He came up to me. I was perplexed; he had got through another college and this was his last day in college. He seemed happy. I seemed happy for him. We promised to be in touch. I watched him walk away. Then I rushed to class.

For a year and half, I didn't recall him. I had thought of writing something else. He just came over me. For the past half hour, I have been trying to remember his name. I can't. His face is hazy. The only thing I do remember are his glasses. Am I sad? Not really.

Have a great year everybody.

My very merry Christmas

2008-12-22T23:53:00.003+05:30

I was sifting through my Christmas cards today. A big yellow plastic folder which tumbled down from the top shelf of the cupboard and caught my attention. For years now, this has been a private ritual. I never gift people cards on Christmas; I buy them for myself. Cards that I receive are only appreciated if people don't defile them by scribbling their inane wishes on the beautiful artwork.
Over the past decade, I have built up an appreciable collection of what I think are some of the most beautiful pieces of work I have ever laid my eyes on.
Every year, for about 11 years now, the week preceding Christmas has always been filled with trepidation mixed with a sprinkling of joy and expectation. The new fir, the smell of the fresh green leaves, the holly, the tinsel, the big fake gold embossed bell that shone much too brightly to be real, the puffy Father Christmas and the tiny sprigs of mistletoe; everything topped with the cake from the best bakery in town and the best cards collected from every possible outlet in town. It was almost magical.

I am busy now. Went to college today; worked; drank some coffee; talked to friends; discussed strategies; planned my day tomorrow. I call it "Christmas Shopping" now. I can't fit in my schedule tomorrow. I still haven't bought a card. I have given up on the cake. Its too much trouble anyway.
Just for a moment today, while I picked up the big yellow folder, I imagined what it would mean not to grow up. Then I realized there is no going back.

You the Freshman

2008-12-15T05:09:00.005+05:30

We have been inactive. Active again. Then again dormant. Much like the society we live in. We have struggled. We have tried to do our best. And we have failed. Or have we? I really cannot say.

Christmas is around the corner and cases of euphemised "Fresher initiations" must be on the decline. People are on the verge of ending their first semesters in their respective institutions. Six months in an alien land; Six more months to move on to being seniors.
There is terror around us and we are inclined to blame. It is quite possible, perhaps even logical, for you to dismiss this as mere farce. Why bother now when cases are low?
Because this is not the end. It will begin all over again. And it will be you, the fresher, who will be the perpetrators this time. You will use the same excuses you thought were unjust; you will discuss with relish the acts of "manliness" you will inflict upon the newcomers. You have already started planning, haven't you? You can't wait for the second semester to end. You first real bout of power. Shelley was wrong I guess. It should have been "If spring comes, can winter be far behind?

Terror at my doorstep

2008-12-04T09:29:00.003+05:30

The feeling has changed. From disbelief to disgust. The terror and sorrow that has engulfed me is now replaced with shock and despair. I am amazed at the reaction of people. Sane, educated, enlightened people.

There is a lot of anguish over inaction. People are vexed at how nothing is being done; how everything goes back to square one a month after the massacre. Hence they wish to blow up Pakistan.

Friends of mine who were staunchly against the American policy of putting its own national security above the lives of millions now vociferously demand that we carpet bomb our neighbour. To us, action connotes one word and one word only. Pakistan.

So we are ready to turn a blind eye to the fact that every time there is a terror attack, there is a intricately woven indigenous terror ploy. We are ready to ignore the fact that there are people within our country who wish to kill us. We are ready to brush aside the fact that we don't provide our security personnel with even the bare minimum when it comes to protective gear.
Because we want the terror to end. The youth of India cannot tolerate such anarchy. Hence the time is ripe for a decisive blow. To culminate the problem forever. Raze Pakistan to the ground. Never mind the millions who would lose their lives on both sides of the border. We don't care about civilian casualties, do we? Let those darn Pakis die. Who cares? What good has come of being civilized?

And so protests go on. The government plays to the galleries. Hardens its stand against Pakistan.

And I sympathize with them. With the "youngistanis". With everybody who wants Muslims flushed out of this nation or wipe Pakistan off the face of the earth. I sympathize.

Because its easy. Its easy to project our "Policy of zero- tolerance on terror" when the only thing that we have to do is build up troops along the border and escalate tension. Its easy to give a clarion call to the youth to organize themselves as an army and march onto Pakistan. Its easy to say killing Muslims is the solution.

After all, why would we want to end the deep religious divides in our society? Why would we not want a sectarian society? Why would we wish to stop the ghetto-fication of particular communities? Why would we want to stop people from becoming terrorists? Why would we want to stop the polarization? Those are difficult things to do.

The rot has begun. We cry for a tough anti-terror law and don't give a hoot about the possible persecution of certain sections of the populace. We say they deserve it. So a man who lost 6 of his kin shouldn't feel helpless when his only surviving son is picked up for questioning and tortured. Its all in the name of India.

For a moment now, let us stop kidding ourselves. We don't care about loss of life. If killing a million Pakistanis sufficed, we wouldn't hesitate in lynching them. Very soon we wouldn't care about India as well. We call for a war. And we dress up in khadi and give speeches on the Second day Of October.

2008-11-28T03:28:00.000+05:30

Give love a chance.

On Progressiveness

2008-11-26T23:56:00.002+05:30

I get a little confused nowadays. Especially when people talk about progressive societies and progressive outlook. The fact that men now are forced to commodify themselves akin to women is a progressive thing. The existence of an all-women radio channel heralds a new era. India is reborn.

Friends of mine are torn between enjoying the twisted humour of Dostana and admonishing it for "lack of sensitivity" towards the "gay community". I haven't watched the film but I hope to enjoy it when I do. Its not just because of the gay angle. I like the fact that homosexuality is treated as just another story angle and dealt with as such; the out and out overtly melodramatic hue that tints everything in Hindi films. I am glad that the film has an "airy", non-sensible tone. We need that. We need to understand that there is no "gay community" and the creation of one would mean the death of the civil society. We need to stop talking of homosexuality as we speak of women's issues, with unease and a lingering desire not to offend anyone and try to be "sensitive" to "their" cause. Well, guess what? There is no "cause" and there is certainly no "their". If I think of homosexuality as just another constituent of my social life, so obvious that it needs no mention, then I need to make fun of it, I need to laugh at it, just as I laugh at other things in the world that are so intrinsic to our society that we never question their place even when we dramatize them for our daily soaps.

A women in the bus forced me to shift today because she couldn't sit between two men. Feminists say that is justified because men are uncivilized neanderthals who grope women. So we accept men groping and then take action instead of addressing the groping. Progressive?

The society is showcasing gender equality by forcing men to use beauty products and dress up to please women. Try to be what they are not. Men do it, women do it. Hence equality. How would it be if neither did it?

I am getting lost in a progressive society.

One week ago

2008-11-13T02:45:00.002+05:30

Its strange what a week can do. I was erasing messages from my phone today and stumbled upon a couple I had sent to somebody. A week ago. We weren't the best of friends. We had just begun to know each other. I liked him. We practised for tournaments together. I supported him. I felt bad for him. I tried to console him. He seemed nice. Good. We were friends. Were.

A week in Bangalore changed all that. In close proximity, we drifted apart. He seemed suddenly brash, insecure, defensive, irrational. Everyone thought so. Tried to see his side. Couldn't. Tried to fell sorry for him. Couldn't. He blamed me. He blamed everybody. He was upset. He lost friends. I lost him.

Just for a minute today, I remembered how things could have been. Its not a big loss. I am not sad. Just pensive. I now feel uncomfortable talking to him. I put up a facade. I laugh with my teeth. I speak ill of him now. Behind his back. He probably does that too. We still greet each other.

Just for a minute, I wished nothing had happened. Then I deleted his messages.

Indiaspeak

2008-10-24T22:50:00.000+05:30

" Mumbai is for Marathis. India comes later."

Untitled

2008-10-19T23:50:00.002+05:30

It was a nice restaurant. A nice evening too. On the table beside mine, there was seated a couple who thought themselves handsome.

Ten minutes into his meal, the guy brings out his cellphone and blares out at the top of his voice,"
I WANNA DEDICATE A SONG FOR MY GIRLFRIEND." The girl acts a little taken aback and then simpers and smiles.
"HER NAME? WELL, LET HER NAME BE 'P'." The girl is reassured.
"MY NAME.....HMM....LET IT BE 'T'. T FOR TABLE."
"LET THE SONG BE THAT ONE FROM ROCK ON...ROCK .....THE SLOW ONE....HAA....."
"WHEN WILL I HEAR THE SONG?"

He brings out his earphones and plugs them into his mobile phone. The girl is happy. Quite a happy moment. He unplugs the earphones. Probably he was told it could be a while.

Just before they finished their romantic dinner, the lights went out. Beautiful candles were lit 5 minutes later but by that time they had finished their meal in the dark. They chose to leave.
They left their earphones though. I am guessing she never heard the song.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I was walking along Kalighat road on the outskirts of the Kali temple. The place was milling with thousands of people who had come there to purge themselves of all sin; to salvage their lives by ending others. A melee of piety and dirt oozed out of the holy pathways. Potbellied priests and henchmen clashed magnificently with impoverished beggars. Offerings of gold made inside the golden doors while dying women lay outside. Incense sticks, holy perfumes, blood and sweat made for a odour that was both intoxicating and vomit- inducing. Lapierre said it was humbling to see the steadfast faith. I tried to agree.

A couple of beggars were clinging on the corner of my mum's sari. She had tried to shrug them off, albeit unsuccessfully. She tried to pay them off. They left, leaving 4 more hopefuls. It was amazing how 2 rupees was all that was needed to gratify them. An old woman hobbled alongside my mother. All the others had given up any hope of mercy. She evidently hadn't. As my mother seated herself in the car and tried to close the door, the woman advanced her hand and said in failing Hindi, "Ma, humko kuch de do. Gareeb ko dene se kam nehi ho jata."
I wanted to translate that. I just can't.

2008-10-13T00:08:00.002+05:30

Walked into the room, he did,

while I wasn't looking.

He crept up behind me

like old white spiders I couldn't see.

He looked at the mirror

where I was trapped.

In the layers of silver sinking,

the face of a laughing boy.

He roughly took hold of me,

And made me face him,

I tried to hide amidst the layers of satin.

He peeled off me the attire,

I should never have had on.

He tried to see if the boy was still there.

Amidst the purple shimmer of his mum's wear.

And all he saw that night was me

And not the boy he wanted to see.

He took in a deep breath and

for a moment did pause,

My father beat me then,

for what I never was.

Kolkata

2008-09-29T00:21:00.002+05:30

Its been raining in Kolkata for the past week. And I have conveniently lost my umbrella. I miss my blue umbrella.
I love it when it pours down after nightfall....there are so few people on the otherwise bustling roads; you actually get a feel of the city. I am glad Kolkata still isn't the posh metropolis that Delhi is trying to become. I hope it never does. It ensures that you can walk with your friend for five hours on the rain soaked streets under an overcast sky after a taxing day at college. It lets you walk down Park Street at 9 in the evening in a slight drizzle and not care about it being unsafe. Where you could walk for hours and get lost and not care.
It allows you to talk to people without worrying that someone is stalking you. I have grown up in a small town where cows lined the avenues in neat rows and fields flanked the paved roadways. Where you could walk for hours and hours and not get tired. Where a cycle would be quite enough for transporting you if only your ego would allow it.
Kolkata still retains some vestiges of being a city of real people. It isn't the City Of Joy. It is, for many, the City Of Eternal Sorrow. In a way I am glad Kolkata hasn't become Delhi.

Or I was. Kolkata isn't such a nice place anymore. Not since the blasts in Delhi. People exchanging glances of disgust at the government and roadside "Adda"s have transformed into people walking at night knowing full well that this Puja might well be the last Puja for them.
There is a rumour going around that Kolkata will be the next target. And it will be the Pujas.
I don't feel safe any m0re. Nobody does. Not the mother in Delhi who lost her son only because he had tried to warn the terrorists that they had left their bag behind. Neither the mother here who isn't sure if her headstrong son will come back at the end of the day.
We can no longer trust. Nor can we hope. A friend of mine said yesterday that she was afraid to go shopping because she was afraid she would die.
I am much too little to blame anybody. So its pointless talking about Shivraj Patil or the Police. The only thing I noticed was that as I reached home last night, I couldn't find a single channel which giving uninterrupted coverage about the blast; I saw cricketers instead. ...It seemed we had already moved on.

2008-09-22T01:19:00.003+05:30

Its one in the morning. And I am researching stuff for a conference later in the day. The world,as I look out of my window, is dark and quiet, just the way I like it. Of late, blogging has become too much of an imposition and less of a pleasure. Hence I have putting it off.

I have been busy. And strangely,busy with things I like doing. None of them have a direct bearing with my college course but I like doing them anyway. I meet new people, do new things. I hardly find time to go through my favourite blogs nowadays, much less update mine. A year ago, I had nothing else to do. I just read and blogged and listened to music.
I have been reflecting on my past year for the past two whirlwind weeks. I was incredibly thankful for having too many engagements to be solitary.
I just read my favourite blogs for the first time in 7 months. And I loved it. I had lost the connection somewhere. I searched for it. Old friends from unfamiliar blogs who had moved on with their lives, people whom I knew only from what they wrote; I met all of them tonight. They seemed alien. And I type this out, I am slowly becoming aware of the fact that I am listening to "1973" after almost a year. It feels nice.
I have too much to do almost everyday now. But perhaps I let life pass me by. I liked the moment tonight to pick up the pieces and reminiscence. I sure had met new people. But I had forgotten the old ones.In my haste to be in the thick of things, perhaps I didn't realize how good I had it back then. A year ago.

Sarah's Night

2008-09-01T00:36:00.002+05:30

She ran into her room and tried to slam the door shut. It didn't have a latch. It remained open- she could hear the voices, shrill, demonic....she had nowhere to hide. The safe haven of her room now suddenly seemed inadequate, tiny.
She ran to her cuckoo clock and winded it full tilt....to no avail. The sweet jingle was much too feeble to drown the voices that almost made her head explode. She ran around her little den, frantically switching on every little sound making device in her possession- the clapping monkey, the singing elephant, the toy guitar and spice girls all in one go...everything teamed together in a desperate attempt to defeat the voices that floated from the room opposite and hammered at her heart; it wasn't just the voices anymore, it was almost like a war with swords and pistols and strangely, big bulldozers with the huge wrecking balls that were hurled right at her heart, shots that pierced her heart, blows that left her dead inside. She could still hear their voices, shouting shrilly, savagely, inhumanly......
Little Sarah, all of seven, ran into her closet, her last sanctuary against all the monsters of a barbaric,cruel world outside. She covered her ears so that she could shut out the voices...she cried out, chanted out almost incessantly, almost maniacally.."Please, oh please,let those voices stop...let them stop...let mum and dad stop."
But they didn't.
She knew they were arguing about her...she could catch snippets of their conversation..."And what the hell do you think happens to Sarah?"..."I am taking her with me,you sick bastard!"..."What did you think, I'll leave her with you,you rascal?"..."She's my child too,you know"..."In your dreams!"..."Do you think she doesn't know about your dirty little affairs and your flings?"...And so went the parental talk.

She still remembered that night. Mum was out of town...big executive that she was. Sarah remembered how proud she used to b of her mum. Smart, beautiful, rich, talented, best mum in the world...and all this just a year ago.
She had gone to bed early. It was a school night. Clutching her teddy,she had walked into that magical land where there were no worries, no voices, no fighting, just bright sunshine and mounds of ice cream.
It was still eerily vivid in hr mind. She had woken up in the night with a pain in her left ear. Putting on her dressing gown, she had groggily tugged Mr. Bear out of bed and walked through the dark into mum and dad's bedroom.
It was still painful. She had found her dad, her big furry, kind, teddy bear dad, in bed with a glass of champagne and someone who wasn't mum. They were kissing.
She had stood there,rooted frozen,her mind much too numb to think out a a suitable
recourse...suddenly the someone her dad was kissing turned this side and looked at her. And she ran and ran as she had never run before....the teddy dangling precariously for dear life. She had got inside the covers and had clutched her pillow and shivered all night; she remembered her father coming in ;how for the first time in her life,she wished he would go away. How he held her in his arms and tried to explain.How she didn't hear anything because in her head there was a buzz. Then she recalled her dad bursting into tears and telling her how he suspected mum was having an affair too. She didn't understand then.she did now.

Sh promised him she wouldn't tell.She almost believed him. But mum found out anyway.And since that day,all her nights have culminated in the closer,trying to shut out the voices.
Sh knew they were arguing about her.Sh had heard them say the night before"You didn't behave this way before Sarah was born"..."You said you would be a stay-at-home mum"..."Well Sarah isn't my property,you know."..."She's your problem too,you know"

She knew she was the problem.She had looked at their wedding photos. They looked so happy together.Even now,when they went to parties and events,they were the couple everyone was envious of. But the voices lurked beneath the surface.
Sarah was known at school for having the perfect family.But ,you know what,she was jealous of poor Emily.Poor Emily,whom everyone taunted because she didn't have a father...a father to come to the PTA,to the father-daughter balls.
And yet,she was envious of poor Emily.Because poor Emily had a poor mother who picked her up everyday from school,albeit on foot,who came to the PTA,albeit alone and who danced at the balls with her....who loved Emily,albeit without the approving nod from society.
You see, Sarah wasn't really anxious because her parents didn't love each other.Of course,she was sad to know her mommy didn't love her daddy.But what really broke her heart was the realization that ,perhaps,none of them loved her!

The voices rose higher. the protection of the closet peeled away. She was alone,naked ,vulnerable.They didn't care.They shouted on.Thy shouted on about taking Sarah to court for something...what was it....?....Cus-cus-custody....

.Were they taking her to court because she had ruined their marriage?Little droplets of tear trickled down her cheeks.She clutched hr bear.She had a plan.Sh tiptoed across the drawing room.She would run far far away.She would leave them to be happy again.And she could have a happy family once more.Like poor Emily.

Sh silently opened the door.It made no sound.For one last time,she looked back at the dark house.There wasn't a soul in sight.Just the voices.One said it would leave the house the next morning.
She slowly closed the door and stepped onto the cold street.It was a starless night...Just a silvery wisp of a moon. She felt strangely free.She took one step forward,then another....

EPILOGUE

The truck driver fell forward as the huge steel beast screeched to a halt. he had hit the brake hard.It was almost Dawn.The eastern sky wore a bloodied look.He climbed out of his cabin.The roads lay forlorn.He couldn't understand how this could have happened.It was almost as if the little girl didn't look as she walked right into the truck.As if she was in a dream.Or a trance.Out of the blue;he walked to the front.There she was.Bloodied.Dead.Clutching a teddy bear.On it was inscribed, Mr. Bear.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Strike out

2008-08-20T23:15:00.004+05:30

There was a Bharat bandh today. A nationwide strike.

On the way back from the local mall yesterday, I decided to take a rickshaw. I was laden with bags and packets stuffed with supplies for the next day when the city of joy would come to a standstill. The mighty metropolis would be forced to kneel down for 24 hours in protest of a couple of policies nobody knew of. The important thing was the protest.

As I seated myself on the rickshaw, I felt a little queasy. The rickshaw wallah seemed a little mad. Cuckoo would be the word. As he pedalled tiringly through the narrow alleys, he scarcely seemed to hear me as I shouted my destination into his ear. He kept muttering to himself. I could only catch snatches of his muffled monologue. He seemed to be repeating the two words, "Ten rupees!"

I was instantly on my guard. The stipulated cost of the commute as fixed by their union was six rupees. He wasn't about to cheat me off the extra four rupees. I clutched with determination onto my two hundred rupees worth french fries and chips.

I tried to take my mind off the muttering menace and tried focusing instead on my itinerary the next day. The trade unions that had called the strike were left affiliated with strong ties with the incumbent government. They controlled most of the city unions, notable amongst them, the rickshaw wallah union. In fact the strike was partly for the benefit of the rickshaw wallahs, claimed the union. To resist the imperialist forces was in the best interest of the impoverished.

The approaching silhouette of my apartment on the horizon shook me out of my reverie. The rickshaw wallah suddenly turned towards me and muttered in his rustic Bengali,"dada,kalke ki shob kichui bondho?"..." Dada,will everything be closed tomorrow?" I replied in the affirmative,a bit surprised. Weren't these the people who actually backed the bandh?

He pedalled on for a few seconds. Then he turned back again." Dada, will schools be closed tomorrow?" There was a sense of desperation palpable in his voice.. I stammered out a "yes", all the while puzzled inside at his quaint questions.

We reached my destination. As I stepped down from the rickshaw, he looked at me and said meekly," Dada, kindly give me ten rupees. I have a girl studying at the local school; she is in class 5 and has just passed her exams. But the school says unless I pay the fees overdue,they're going to rusticate her. I have to arrange for three thousand rupees within the next week. Having asked everybody I knew for a loan, I now have resigned to asking customers I know well for small sums of money. You see, sir, I have been pedalling for the last thirteen years. But I don't know what will happen next. One whole day gone dada. Tomorrow I won't be able to pedal; no income dada, no food, no future. Wanted to meet a few people tomorrow for my girl. Now sir...."

Tears glistened on his sunken cheeks. I clutched at the tattered ten rupee note in my hand, the bag of fries on my other hand. I slowly reached out into my wallet and pulled out a hundred rupee note. The shrivelled face filled with surprise and disbelief. It slowly changed into ecstasy and hope.

I watched him pedal his way out of my neighbourhood. "Maybe dada, I will be able to educate my girl after all. God bless you..."

There was a Bharat bandh today.

The 7th of August

2008-08-07T22:13:00.005+05:30

Its the 7Th of August. As I returned from College and switched the T.V. on, I was informed by the frantic looking news anchor, who blared in almost incomprehensible hindi, that tomorrow, the 8Th of August would be doomsday for the world. The unholy combination of the three 8's,the anchor expounded, was potent enough for a catastrophe.
I switched the channel. This time I landed on an English breed. True to its language, the hype here was international. The Beijing Olympic games 2008. Commencing from tomorrow is the greatest show on earth; the Chinese having been a model of fastidious,meticulous,albeit slightly robotic precision. The channel having sent a correspondent all the way to China, seemed to want its investment back fast. The correspondent was foaming at the mouth as he spoke about how the Olympic committee might be goaded into including cricket in 2012.

Fervently praying that they didn't,I surfed all the channels...everyone seemed to be focussing on the impending...all of those enlightened people seemed much too busy in the prospects of the future than the significance of the present. None were interested in today.
The day had been an unusual one. The college seemed to be teeming with young enlightened souls brimming with novel ideas about the commemoration of the day and posters were abound about the gala cultural recital that afternoon as a token of fond and cherished remembrance of the heritage of one of Indian literature's greatest exponents. I was disappointed. Not only was the program under-rehearsed and hopelessly amateur, there seemed to be a genuine lack of spontaneous outpouring of creative energy. The apathy was palpable. The dancers danced cuz they had been directed to; the singers sang the song in a particular drab fashion, never bothering to infuse the song with a breath of life. The dramas enacted were more about showing off personal skills than commemorating the life of a great master. Indeed, the loudest cheers received were for the street goon. And this was supposed to be a cultural event.
Every year, Calcuttans and Bengalis around the globe gather round a certain photograph on this day and apparently pay homage. The streets bustle with people talking of literature and every institution worth its name hosts a multitude of events to celebrate the day.The rest of the world thinks bengalis are fussing. That they have a perennial identity crisis and hence tend to cling to the last vestiges of glory. Indeed, I have seen many a wry smile smack on the faces of some of my most intelligent friends.Maybe all don't. But some sure do!
Perhaps part of it is fuss. Maybe it is ridiculous for the rest of the nation to see people going berserk over something that is not remotely related to cricket. But you know what? I like it. I like it when people remember their heroes, their poets, the people who helped the nation move onward. Even if blended with pompous self importance,even a modicum of hypocrisy,I like that people at least remember his name today, even if for a minute.
Naysayers will say he remains alive only on paper,not in our hearts. But that is better than dying and getting buried anonymous,isn't it?
Calcutta remembers. For the rest,today is the 7th of August. Rabindranath Thakur died today.

Thought

2008-07-30T23:03:00.002+05:30

A friend informed me today it was popular belief that Rock music was somehow better and 'higher" than pop.He quoted Paris Hilton to substantiate his claim.

Vote and a little Ghosh

2008-07-23T02:44:00.002+05:30

Exhilarating is the word.There is no other I can think of which can describe the events of the last few days.It has been a whirlwind last week and a half,both in my personal life and of course,in the national scene.There has been a little fun,lots of heated discussions,a little more fun at the expense of the nation's future and the discovery of Omar Abdullah.

It does seem eons ago that I walked into the cinema to watch Rituparno Ghosh's latest,"Khela".I was disappointed.There was the trademark Ghosh style,the much-better-than-usual Manisha Koirala and a story which seemed unpredictable for the most part.However,I had gone in with much higher expectations which were not gratified.The little boy was adorable,the quaint manner of narration was sweet,the North Bengal scenery breathtaking and there was a discernable sense of intimacy,closeness which the director managed to weave throughout the film.The subtle underlying pain was most elegantly shown.The ending was beautiful.In any other director's hands,this would be hailed as great cinema.however,Ghosh has dazzled me with his brilliance so many times earlier that the perfect little intimate tale was inadequate.It lacked the genius,the "Oh my god!" moment,the one magic moment of divine brilliance.

Trouble is still brewing in college over my obstinate stand against ragging.I was accused of splintering the unity of the class.People are going mad,which must be a good sign for they don't tell you to shut up if your words aren't having an effect.I am on the verge of being accused of taking away a fundamental right...Things are hotting up.

The fun was of course provided by the sycophancy of the Left at the centre.Delhi seemed quite like a gladiatorial ring.I like it better than T-20.There are all the hourly updates and scores but the spice seems more here.Who wants Shoiab and Dhoni?Give me Mayavati and Sonia Gandhi any day!

And where was Omar Abdullah?Either he speaks very rarely or I have been completely stupid in missing his speeches.I had almost fallen asleep during the trust vote when Omar Abdullah's two-minute speech roused me.He not only spoke forcefully and made himself heard over the din but was coherent and witty.He is indeed a very good orator.He has got that one quality Rahul Gandhi lacks...intelligence.And he makes Somnath babu smile!

Another post about the trust vote in a couple of days....I am waiting for the second act."Picture abhi baaki hai mere dost!"

P.S-Awful quote,I know!Apologies.

Saturday...Today

2008-07-18T00:16:00.003+05:30

I usually devote my Saturdays to the pursuit of trivial amusements.It was in accordance with the general scheme then,that last Saturday I let my friend persuade me to watch the new teen-flick in town that everyone is talking about..."Jaane Tu Ya Jaane Na".Most people in my college had loved it beyond words and nothing but watching it twice could satiate their appetite.It was then,with a great deal of expectation and a modicum of apprehension that I queued in front of the Cinema.The line had snaked its way into the main avenue which brought a smirk onto the lips of my friend.So many people could hardly be wrong in their judgement.It was an eclectic mix.There were college crowds,obnoxious love birds,middle aged gentlemen,ageing ladies...

It was almost a miracle that tickets weren't as scarce as it seemed.We rushed inside,I didn't even look at the popcorn or the french fry stands!And then the film started.
As I walked out of the hall two and a half hours later,my mind was a jumble of thoughts.People around me gushed about the film;about how great it was,how adorable Imran Khan was,how hot Genelia looked,how sublime Rehman's creations were,how it was the best film they had seen in quite some time.i couldn't agree.Nor could I disagree.

To be fair,"Jaane Tu..." isn't a bad film at all.Of course,a bad film isn't what is expected of the man who penned "Maqbool".The film is breezy,the characters aren't overtly melodramatic and the music is very very good.But somewhere there was a feeling of being let down.
Had the film been in the hands of a lesser director,there would have been no cause for complaint.Indeed,if it hadn't amassed such rave critical reviews,the follies would have been quite passable.But Abbas Tyrewala,the brilliant,imaginative scriptwriter,what sort of a story is this?
Sure,the handling of the sequences speaks volumes of the director's abilities but as the film rolled on,I couldn't help feeling a lot of that ability lay nascent.
The plot was a complete mess.College life and the depiction of a bonding which transgressed the realm of ordinary day to day "friendship"*(little more than a casual acquaintance,considering how often we abuse the term )were all fine but what happens when the film doesn't move forward?The depictions were all upper middle class,of people rolling in money,something which I am sure many aspire too,but how many identify?Comic relief is great again,but what happens when every other dialogue is a tongue-in-cheek attempt at inciting laughter?The whole story refused to move onward and instead there is a barrage of clever one liners from the end of the first half hour.
To be fair,the audience was in splits but does Tyrewala really need to resort to that?It was only Ratna Pathak Shah,the one and only,who could breeze through such a non-role and come off as charming and adorable and indeed she waltzed through her performance.Nasiruddin Shah's role,again was an out and out attempts at unconventional(in Bollywood)humour.In deference to Tyrewala,the comedy was intelligent,a welcome relief from the slapstick that Bollywood regularly dishes out and some of Pathak's lines were memorable,especially when her son's best friend asks her while sobbing,because college had ended,"Auntie,itne din kaha chale gaye?" and the smart Pathak retorts,"Phone pe,beta,phone pe"
Returning to the principal point of complaint,I couldn't help thinking the storyline perfectly absurd.The middle part of the film was absolutely indigestible;the hour spent in establishing Imran and Genelia's respective lovers;the lovers' only task to make the protagonists aware of their growing jealousy.The idea was fine,the flaw lay in the execution.The film became so intolerably boring once the "other partners" were introduced that I could scarcely keep my eyes open.It was all glossy clothes and smart talk and the film refused to move on....time seemed to stand still.The conclusion again,wasn't something I was prepared for.The three conditions to be ordained a rajput scion,the midnight horse chase through Bombay,the airport chase sequence...was it all from a weird fairy tale?I was particularly disappointed with the horse ride at one in the morning through the streets of Bombay...farce!The airport chase sequence was funny though...special mention for Paresh Rawal,good throughout in the role of a (you guessed it!)comic police officer.The ending again,was so tame.Tyrewala had taken an unusual concept,why not attempt an unconventional ending?Friends turned lovers who live happily ever after sounds so old,doesn't it?

This is what I felt on Saturday.Today,however,is another day and strangely the film grows on me.I had readily appreciated the four things that had enabled me to sit through the 3hours....Imran Khan,all vivacious charm,cute smiles,clever lines and intelligent looks,shined through the holes in the script and seemed well endowed in brains if only a little deficient in the brawn's department
(a relief!)Charming and endearing,he carried comedy with great ease and most importantly, was extremely believable.Believability was also the forte of Genelia,still nursing a small Hyderabadi accent in her hindi.Managing to hold her own against Imran and making a place for herself amongst the audience was no mean task.And I am also much pleased to say that she is much improved from her earlier performances in Telegu mainstream films.The chirpy college girl,the typical upper class spoilt brat and the endearingly faithful friend was what she accomplished with amazing grace.A mention also for Prateik Babbar,Smita Patil's son who turns in a jaw-dropping performance as Genelia's brother.His anguish and love and sorrow are all so meticulously and yet so humanely depicted that one cannot but applaud the debutante.
It would be extremely unfair here if I didn't add a whole standing ovation to Rehman's work; fresh and vivacious,the music managed to capture the young spirit perhaps more than the film.The songs were a heady mix of rhythm and melody and I simply,was enthralled.

But as I sit here,at two in the morning,thinking of all that I had seen,I finally realize that it wasn't what I had seen,it was what i felt which mattered more.Sure the film had its share of flaws but what it managed to do was to leave an impression.The first twenty minutes,the best part of the film where Imran and Genelia's beautiful bond is explored keeps coming back to me.And as I listen to "Aditi" on the headphone,I get the feeling that all criticism aside,the film managed to connect,not just with the college crowds but with everyone who ever loved and had a friend to die for.And that might just be Tyrewala's best work,the accomplishment of the most difficult task set to him;He manages to keep the film alive in each one of us and makes us identify with at least somebody.You will find yourself unable to control yourself from clapping at the climax, weird as it was!And every time you listen to a piece of music from the film or snatches of words from "aditi"..you will always,even if for a few seconds,transported into the magical world of Jai and Aditi,when the world was still beautiful and they could love each other without tags or conditions.

"Jaane Tu..." might have been a great film.It isn't.But that is quite beside the point.It isn't what you will remember.What you will remember is how it felt to be Jai and Aditi.

A long time ago,in a city....

2008-07-11T23:34:00.008+05:30

I got up today.Dressed for college,cursed the college time table and got out of the house.I spend a regular day,trivial occurrences interwoven with mundane circumstances;pointless conversations concocted with petty tricks,emotions not quite genuine getting lost with mirthless smiles.
It was only on my way back,wallowing in self pity,that I chanced a glance at my watch and realized it to be the 11th of July,or the watch proclaimed,the infamous "7/11".It was on this day,two years ago,that Mumbai was ripped apart by seven horrendous blasts that changed the socio-political scenario of the nation forever.Though I never have lived in Bombay and in general have a very limited idea concerning the outline of the city or its people,than what Bollywood and its closest living relative,the news media affords us to have,I had and still have a considerable number of friends and people I love who reside in "the city of dreams".

I returned home and turned on the television.C.B.I''s magnificent success in an open and shut case after months of mud splashing and shadowy speculation in the media seemed to have caught the nation's imagination,gripped its psyche.People seemed ill-disposed to recall something so profoundly and evidently painful on a day of such revelling glory.A single news channel dared to air a story about a person who has been in a perpetual state of injury induced coma since the black day.Of course he was poor,he had no money to pay for his treatment hereafter and had,in short,no right to live.The channel promptly relegated the piece to the back benches.Not for him, the magnanimity of the nation witnessed in the outpouring of grief or the flooding of relief money.There was no resilient spirit that would help him stand back on his feet again.

"One of the nation's worst human tragedies,with over 200 people killed,The Mumbai massacre ranks internationally as one of the most gruesome acts of crime ever..."screamed one reporter stationed to cover the condolence meetings.I sincerely wish she meant the empathy,absent from her voice.A meeting "to remember the martyrs " culminated with the principal speaker concluding that "the central government was a complete failure and the Samajwadi Party was being opportunistic."He stood beside a lady who had lost her son and husband,both wage labourers,as he waxed eloquent how the government had no moral right to continue.

It is easy for me to don the critical eye.It is even convenient.After all,I was,in no way,affected me,snug as I was in front of the television,both then and now.No Concern of mine emanated from a genuine exigency,just plain curiosity and outrage.But it is indeed depressing that things haven't looked up for those whose lives were truly affected by the blasts.Who lost everything they had or perhaps still have a crippled brother at home,all to a unnamed Jehad,a war they were never a part of.Sadder still,perhaps,is the fact they look up towards us,the society,the people unscathed,rich,Outwardly sympathetic with hope in their eyes.Perhaps they think all the soundbite does mean something.perhaps the next C.M. visit might yield a hospital bed for their father.Or Barkha Dutt's riveting commentary might mean something other than a dozen mikes poking into their faces.
They hope that their tragedy will mean something else than general knowledge question in the years to come;a benchmark for future genocides.They hope that they will somehow get a slice of the amazing spirit of the "city that never stops".Maybe they hope us,people who see them but don't notice to sit up today and think.The sad thing is that it seems they are hoping in vain.

Today

2008-07-09T22:05:00.002+05:30

I had planned to take a break from blogging for six months.Life had seemed too engrossing,too mundane,too regular for me to share.I didn't plan to break the vow today.But then something happened.
It is today that I realized how difficult it is to stop people from what they ardently wish to do,even if they themselves had admitted at one point in time,albeit in private,that it does show them in poor light and is WRONG.Perhaps greater trouble are those people who think what they do highlights their talents,veils their imperfections and spruces up their "cool" factor.People who wish to see can be lead onward.People who only think they can see cannot.

There was a concerted effort this year in my college to stop the menace otherwise known as Ragging;euphemised by the wishfully blind who like to call it "orientation"/"interaction.Students chose,in droves,not to undertake the stupid and horrifying "custom" of hazing the "juniors"(rather condescending !)They insisted that they wanted to get to know the students,for a change.
I was buoyed.With so many standing up for something their own petty interests,there was truly hope for betterment.It was truly difficult to comprehend why something so trivial wasn't getting rooted out,especially when so many were against it.All the first year students were greeted with toffees on their second day.A friend of mine messaged his girlfriend that they had decided to become "caring seniors".

The question was answered today.I was taught that just because people know something is wrong,they will never stand by it.They will waver on their pledge;they will instead do what is convenient.Most of the people who had pledged their support found it too difficult to honour their word.The ragging started in earnest today.I was told that if someone wants to rag,its his liberty to do.I was shown proofs of how the first year students were eager to get humiliated by their "seniors" and how I was being the wet blanket.The day drew to a close the same way it had every year.With massaged egos the seniors walked out triumphant;the juniors weren't vanquished either,holding,with pride,onto their solace that they would be the perpetrators of the humiliation the next year.Life went on.
Hindsight is perfect.And thus as the day draws to a close,I can say that I was sadly deceived in the character of man.A friend of mine today quoted Frederich Nietzsche....he said the force behind a man's life is "the will to power".And as I sat there and rued my loss,I suddenly realized that the win had been a hollow one after all.There was no collective desire to weed out ragging.There was simply an urge to look noble.There had been no change of heart.There simply was a change of tactic.
Sociologists say ragging is for those with an insecure persona.It is the perfect way to get your ego boosted...today,however,I saw that it was far more complex.There was a ego massage involved,yes,but far more pivotal was the power which the seniors were bestowed with.Making a guy marry another guy didn't emote as much fun as the reverential stares and the awe effused with fear which their eyes betrayed.They were in charge.

I was wrong.It perhaps cost me a few friends but the lesson is the better learnt for that.No one wants change.Because oppression always facilitates the privileged.The seniors rag because they can;it is "fun" and for a few weeks,the nobody-s get to become somebody-s.The juniors get ragged because it will be their turn next year.That is tradition.We all make pledges to make the world a better place.We all hope and pray and curse the previous generation.It is a pity though,that we don't act.Maybe because its too difficult.

A Tale Of Two Cities

2008-05-14T03:10:00.003+05:30

A city rejoiced...a city wept.Thousands of people went berserk with glee while thousands others suffered in mute agony.Two cities.Separated by a few hundred kilometres.And yet,a world apart tonight.
It was about seven thirty in the evening when I switched on the television and was horrified,albeit for a minute,at the gruesome deaths caused due to the serial blasts in Jaipur.The news channels reported in sickening unison and enthusiasm that there had been a stampede in the walled city area and an "unknown" number of people were dead.The macabre images showed pools of blood on the streets,mangled bodies heaped up on the sides and crushed vehicles and debris of shops....a normal evening when something had gone horribly,horribly wrong.

I didn't however,have time to watch the coverage or express anguish,if only to myself...I had finer things to do.I had to cheer on SRK's Knight Riders as they took on a highly fancied side at the Eden Gardens...ironic name!It was "my" city playing against "their" city.And we were baying for blood.The match was touted as the "clash of the titans" and there wasn't a soul in this bustling metropolis who wasn't shouting their heart out.The match,as the commentators said,was a matter of "life and death"!

For the whole 4 hours of the match,I sat glued to the television,not for one moment thinking about catching the news about the victims of the dastardly attack.Saurav's spell or Shoaib's speed was way more important....Kolkata won the duel.We all were elated...The city rejoiced.Kolkata had won..."Our"city had won...We partied,we danced,some of us even drank to the victory.

That didn't bother me...what bothered me,although in hindsight,was my response.I had chanced a glance at the news bar that proclaimed that 50 were dead in the attacks..and I had instantly thought.."Oh well,it isn't a major attack,so few are killed...we'll catch it later".What bothered me was every one's response...The people at Eden,to be fair,were in the dark.But had they known,would it have mattered?After all,most news channels seemed more intent on knowing whether Jaipur would host the next IPL match,keeping in view,the crucial standings on the league table...
What bothered me was my exasperation at seeing every channel covering the attacks and not one praising my Saurav.I was frankly vexed...

But I needn't have worried.India is far too smart to get entwined in emotional matters for too long...withing an hour of the attack,channels broadcasting out of Calcutta had switched over to Eden and the national channels followed suit after another hour.Jaipur was reduced to just a footnote....Celebration attracted much more TRPs than weeping grandmothers lamenting the death of their only grandson.
Bombay in 1993 was different.We were shocked then.we are indifferent now.The fact that people used bombs to kill others and mutilate their own brethren was nauseating to us.Now,the fact that so "few" people were killed amazes us.As one correspondent said,it was another pearl in a string of terrorist strikes...we have grown so thick skinned and insensitive that the loss of human life doesn't bother us anymore...it is more of a statistic."Oh,only 10000 killed in China?That is less than Myanmar,isn't it?"we judge tragedies by the number of casualties.And we excel in forgetting the victims,leaving them on the way,helpless and smartly moving on.

The New India has arrived,ladies and gentlemen.And so have the new Indians.Where one city's devastation is second hand news in another...Where deaths do not qualify for attention over celebrities...where our lives can do without these sombre moments of sorrow.As I had said earlier,one city rejoiced while one wept...and the sad thing is that the nation rejoiced with the city of joy and told Jaipur to weep alone.

Cat

2008-03-31T01:55:00.003+05:30

There was a cat today,

lying across the road...

there was a dead cat today,

who had left this mortal abode!

There was a cat today,

run over by a car,

none to look,none to care;

as it lay dead on the busy throughfare.

Someone had to reach office early today,

Someone was getting late on their way,

Someone had spent an extra hour in bed,

And that was why the cat lay dead...

People looked back at it in disgust,

blood splashed all over the clean roadway,

"Darn cat!Has ruined our roads",

was all that we could say!

"Thank God it wasn't a man!",they said,

As if they'd care if it were,

As if it would matter to anyone,

If a man lay dead there!

But thank god there wasn't a rally,

Or a protest march with beautiful candles lit,

Or a big T.V crew who had better things to do,

The dead cat got what was deemed fit!

"THANK GOD" cuz the cat didn't cause a jam,

Thank cuz you could drive over it just fine,

"THANK GOD" the man in the car wan't late for work,

"THANK GOD" he didn't lose a minute of his time!

And the dead cat just lay there,

Befouling our great city's roadway,

Before the moping trucks came

And washed the blood away the next day....

The road gleamed just as brightly as before-

And the cars raced back and forth through night and day,

And all of us waited with bated breath...

We waited for our next prey!

Of Rock music and more

2008-03-22T03:33:00.005+05:30

For the past 9 months,I have been witnessing something...a phenomenon...rather a cultural revolution which seems to find its footing in the denizens of the bustling metropolises but is,slowly but surely,finding a toehold amongst the youth of the smaller mofussil towns.I still am untouched by this rapid infection but am in constant danger of contamination...

The disease....or rather,a godsend boon for some..."Rock culture"-the new brand of music that is sweeping an entire generation into its fold.Though I speak of a very tiny cross- sectional demographic of the society,it is nevertheless intriguing because so many of my peers,my juniors and my seniors seem so very addicted to it!

Rock as a genre has never quite flourished in India and the phenomena that I am talking about has got nothing to do with the emergence of authentic Indian rock...on the contrary,the Indian music scene is still dominated by "Indipop" and "Film music"...However,I am awestruck by the burgeoning fan base of people like Kurt Cobain,Jim Morrison,Billie Joe Armstrong;bands like Nirvana,Green day,Foo Fighters....People my age go crazy over songs that are sung thousands of miles away by people who perhaps never heard of Hindustan!

I am not a fan of rock music...it makes my head ache.So you can be rest assured this post is not going to be about how great rock music is ,how Kurt Cobain is "gawd" and how rock music has captured the imagination of the youth the world over.

This post is about my own personal troubles in my own little myopic world where I am much too smug to look out for other people's point of view.

I have a friend who stands out in a crowd due to his rock-devotion.He will strike up a altercation if he feels his rock-idols are getting slighted.I admire him for wearing his heart on his sleeve.

But from this point,let me enumerate my troubles.

Most of my friends who are rock fan(atic)s cannot tolerate any bit of criticism from their peers about their idols...for them,Green Day represents the pinnacle of musical achievement and nothing can ever surpass that.They are extremely touchy about anybody criticising the rock genre...god forbid if you tell them you can't stand the ear-splitting racket.They'll tell you how ignorant you are when it comes to deciphering guitar techniques or obscure lyrics that have got drowned in the electronic cacophony.

Rock claims to be non-conformist...it doesn't bow to the wishes of the conventional society,or so it says!Another point of clash.Most of my friends tend to slight pop music because it caters mainly to the populist tastes of the society.Rock,they say,is different!I sincerely don't find the difference..at the end of the day,both aim at selling the maximum number of records!It might be that rock stars belt out a different theme of music but how it becomes better than other genres is beyond my comprehension.

I used to like rock...soft rock that is!Until rock decided to move over to a heavy metal genre and attracted a worldwide fan base!Now,my friends,who are mad after Cobain don't wish to listen to such whimpers!

The point that I am trying to make is that I despise the arrogance rock fans tend to portray..at least some of them!They behave as if they're gonna change the world and hence the advent of the nonsensical "I am what I am " tag line...Its cool to be a rock fan.It isn't cool to listen to country music.It is cool to say that Cobain,Morrison died to "move on"..it is easy to glorify their suicides;cuz the whole world is doing so!~

I am afraid that in the midst of all the hullabaloo,the soul of rock has been lost.It was said that they'll never cater to popular taste..they'll do what they want,but is that what is happening now?I don't think rock is the best genre in the world...actually I don't care about genre as long as the song is good...So what right do the rock fans have to tell me that I shouldn't speak badly about Cobain?Yes,I might not know anything about marijuana or rock culture,in fact I am afraid I have portrayed my severe lack of knowledge in this post...but again,I wish to remain free...I don't want to be told that rock is the only genuine genre...all others are studio-mixes...rock is one too!Just see the back covers.

My friends say rock music is great cuz its straight from the heart...socially conscious,great lyrics and the songwriters are the singers!Celine is rubbish cuz she can't write..In the same vein,Cobain is rubbish cuz he can't sing!I have a problem with music that is dark,unnecessarily depressing,where human emotions have no value...Where idols are more notorious than "Jack,the ripper"..where genres are decided based on drug usage and where entire generations are blindly led by a desire to conform to a non-conformist trend!

I wish to be left alone with my Celine Dion..and I want to say out loud that she is way better than Cobain...and I want to have the freedom to say that Dido is better than Morrison because she has the courage to live.I do not wish to be scorned when I listen to the Spice Girls instead of Carnival of Rust.I do not wish to be told day in and day out that I am missing something great...

I may not be "man" enough to listen to Nirvana and there might be people who gawk when they hear I like female singers,but I do not care...I choose Britney Spears and I choose Andrea Corr and that is my choice...I choose to stay out of the line!

The Great Hockey Drama

2008-03-10T23:56:00.003+05:30

For the past few days all that I can see around me is this great hullabaloo raised by the media and the common public in unison because the Indian Hockey team faltered at the final hurdle..the finals of the qualifying tournament for the Beijing Olympics 2008...The news anchors have been shouting themselves hoarse at the great "ignominy" of not being able to compete in the Olympics.I have been enlightened on the national "shame" and the great damage this "deplorable" loss has caused to the "Indian national pride".

People have been baying for blood....The hockey player's blood that is!I heard one senior journalist say that the golden era of hockey was just a matter of the past....Its time to move on and crown cricket as our national game.The popular mood seems to soundly propound this view too.The S.M.S polls resonated with general indignation at the pathetic performance of our team...especially at a time when the the cricket team has made the nation proud with its "epoch making feats".

Don't get me wrong.I'm no connoisseur of hockey.In fact,I have never ever seen a game of hockey in my life.But I still get the feeling that the mood resonated across the nation reeks of dichotomy and blatant hypocrisy.Its tough being a sportsman in this country if you're not a cricketer...Ishant Sharma gets more news coverage about his atrocious hair than the master Vishwanathan Anand...News people regularly raise a hue and cry about the burgeoning burden of expectations on the shoulders of cricketers;not a word about the apathy meted out to other sports.
We slander the team for losing in the finals...did we ever care when they thrashed other teams en-route to the finals?Did we ever cheer for them?Did the government care?
When India loses a cricket match...we say people are being unreasonable and the team played well nonetheless...we are lectured on how a team can't win every time!But heaven forbid if that same reasoning is applied to hockey.NO NO!They have to keep winning...don't bother to provide sponsorship,proper coaching,a transparent governing body or international exposure!Whenever a bunch of underfed,unnoticed,uncelebrated youngsters go out on the international arena,they have to perform like Dhyan Chand.Never mind that we are looking the other way most of the time!

I am sure the players are themselves downcast about their performance...and surely it is a sign of the downward spiral or the tailspin in which Indian hockey has entwined itself.But should we not have cried foul when the government slashed their funds?Or when a certain Sikh was declared president of the IHF for life?Should we not fret about the complete lack of transparency in the governing body????
We choose to take the easy way out.Blame the players,they are unprivileged and illiterate anyway,take our ire out on them.Glorify cricket,a sport that more than half of the globe has not even heard about!We cheer when the cricket team wins 3 matches against the same opposition,in a game that doesn't matter to 3/4 Th's of the world.We choose to compete in a sport that doesn't even have enough teams to organize a decent tournament.We beat 2 nations in Australia and went gaga over it.Does anyone even care to know how many nations we beat at the qualifying round of the Olympics?

We regularly complain that India performs terribly at international sporting arenas...But it is to be expected.After all,Dhoni's boys get 10 million every time they win against a crappy team...while the allowance we provide to Indians who play in truly International sports wouldn't buy me a bag of chips.And we expect Olympic gold.

In a way I think the sports journalist was right.Maybe cricket should be crowned the national game.We don't deserve better.We don't deserve to succeed in international sports...Making cricket the national passion has a great plus side too...We wouldn't have to worry about Olympic qualification anymore...There simply aren't enough countries~~!!

The 11th commandment

2008-02-28T19:53:00.004+05:30

A few weeks back,me and my friends were travelling by the Delhi Metro...we were 3 guys and fortunately all of us had managed to get seats;the train was getting very crowded and I was smug in my seat.Hardcore Kolkatans that we are,it was quite a change,and a refreshing one for me, to see that there were no seats reserved for women.In kolkata,seats are reserved for "ladies" everywhere!!On the bus,on the metro,on trains.............
However,one of my friends took great offence at the fact that "a lady" was standing in front of us while we all sat.He got up to offer his seat...A man rushed over and sat down in a flash.He then forced our other friend to do the same.The same outcome,again!
Now the only seat left for the "lady" to take was mine...there was only a slight hitch-I refused to get up.My pal tried to convince me on grounds of morality and "the right thing to do" with insightful arguments like "Dhrubo,a lady is standing..how can you sit?"...He tried every trick in the book to compel me to get up,but me,prude that I am,never did...the lady got off the train at the next station.

I had almost forgotten about the incident till "Quaint Murmur" aroused my memory...and I must say that though I love my city,I despise situations where people get advantage because of the way they are born.It was about 7 years ago that I realized that chauvinism works both ways and while my psycho-therapist(yes,I am a nut-case!)doesn't think so,the "chauvinist pigs" come in both genders!
All my life I have been puzzled by the visible lack of uniforming in matters of public sphere when it comes to men and women.Men are always expected to give up stuff so that the women can get an easy ride.And what surprises me is the fact that so many women take the advantage,nay,grab it with both hands and behave as if it was their god gifted right.No one ever questions why,on a bus,men have a greater duty to remain standing while women are predisposed to relax.
Maybe I am exuding the perception of being a misogynist and some sort of an "anti-feminist" but that is not the case...I stand up for issues where I think people are getting discriminated against but what about situations where people talk about discrimination to actually discriminate against others?
I am not a feminist.I don't think men should take over the world either.I just am of the opinion that this social compulsion of men having to be "chivalrous" towards women is redundant.Let the era of men offering small bits of favour to women be banished now.Let the world where a condescending attitude of "they need it,helpless souls" ,hid under a garb of nobility,is not tolerated any longer.
I do not dream of a perfect world...I just wish that we live in a world where there was a little less dichotomy...where people are allowed opportunities when they deserve it.

The day I love to hate

2008-02-14T21:52:00.002+05:30

I am supposed to study now...but it is very evident that I am not!I am much too euphoric and not because of the reasons an adoloscent guy is usually happy on the night of Valentine.I am happy cuz I have survived another year without falling into the dating quagmire...Does it seem cynical?Well,it is!!

I don't know from where I picked up this unrelenting cynicism about the present concept of dating but then as far and as long as I can remember,it has been this way.I havealways hated books which talk about the next step after people become friends...books which place flings at an emotional scale higher than friendship and bonding.For that simple reason,I find myself at odds with celebrated pieces of literature like "Five Point Someone".But it is not as if I am against love.I am not a misogynist.I am a sucker for "Romance "movies.I even like films like "Shakespeare in love" or saccharine sweet "Notting Hill"....

Contradiction?I used to think so too....

Not anymore though.Its the society which is hypocritical,not me...atleast I think so.Yes,I have got a problem with people hooking up just because its the "in" thing.But I have a greater problem with the society which accepts and actively promotes such kind of behaviour under the garb of tomfoolery like "guys will be guys" and "there is no place for love".

I have a problem with people who rave and rant about the piety of love and the divinity of the affair and then go buy Archies cards to profess their "divine" life.Who are so enamoured with the notion of "Hindi film romance" that they talk of lynching their lives just because someone has decided to move on with their life.I have a problem with a society which behaves with sickening morality when it comes to accepting homosexuality but bends over backwards in order to accomodate Greeting Card Day!A society which bars two men from looking at each other but has no problem with lewdness as long as it is perpetrated by a guy and a girl.

I might not fall in love.Not today.Not tomorrow.Maybe never.But if love exists in the form that I see it all around me...I am glad to be alone.It isn't love that I have a problem with,its what we have made out of it!!

Round the bend

2008-02-12T22:52:00.000+05:30

Walking down the road with a friend,
I suddenly come across a bend...
I turn and don't find him there-
Searched for him everywhere,nowhere could I find;
Was he true,did he pretend...
Leaving me stranded on that bend?

We were so happy chatting.
Walking among the leaves cheerfully-
Perhaps life's like this,
The person you want the most
is the one you miss!

Maybe its a big journey,
You walk over and over again...
Be it shine or rain,
smiles or pain-

Every morning a new destiny,
YOU walk the stretch alone,
Yes you'll find friends...
Who'll disappear round the bend!

Smiles and memories,
The good time and the tears,
Yes,you'll share...
But you will leave it with the dust and walk ahead!

Tomorrow is a new day-
A different way!
A new pal to take you away...
To soar,to fly.....to spread yuour wings in the bright blue sky!!

And that is all I learnt,
while I stood stranded on bend...
Waiting for my new best friend!

2008-01-15T21:05:00.000+05:30

I should have written long ago...indeed I have been planning to write for the past one month.But there was one thing which always stood in the way.The fact that I am terribly lazy.But not today!The giant has woken from his slumber to bore you people again.
I wanted to respond to Sinjini's tag long long ago but couldn't....
I am not much of a bibliophile but here goes...

Total number of books I own:

I am not really sure since they lie all around me and I never tidy them up but there must be more than twenty of them,I think.

Last book I bought:
Collected Short Stories of Chekhov

I am currently reading:
The Picture Of Dorian Gray(It was a Titash inspiration and I want to read it forever)
Note To Self:Should really get started on some of those course books.

3 books I started reading but never completed:
I am really ashamed for this...
Dostoevsky's Crime And Punishment
Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse
And lastly,a huge chemistry book that my mum had bought for me with the misplaced hope that I would be interested.

One book which I gave to somebody else, but never got back:
I don't generally give away books to such hopeless people so that has never happened.Or maybe it has and I have forgotten everything about it.

Total number of E-books I own:
I am afraid,none.I do read on the net occasionally but I do not like the experience.My eyes water and my neck hurts.Moral:Reading on the net isn't good for elephants.

My most treasured books:

Mrs. Dalloway...Virginia Woolf
The Harry Potter collection(They cost a fortune!)
Pride and Prejudice....Jane Austen
and every book in my home that I haven't read.

Who am I going to tag?
Quaint Murmur...I just hope she doesn't take as much time as me to respond!

PS-Titash...was that interesting?

The signal

2007-12-14T06:10:00.000+05:30

stopping by a red signal,
i rolled down the windows of my mind,
and was startled to find,

a girl, on the threshold of adulthood,
on the pavement, by the road where my car stood-
all her clothes had gone astray,
and her hair was tinted with premature grey...
she stumbled on step by step,knocking over people in tow...
didn't look behind at the mess she had left-

her eyes were hollowand kind of mad....
meeting my eyes,she gave a short little bow-
stopped for a second,over a coin she did bend,
tossed it and as it came down,
encased it in her gown....

she leaned by a lamp-post,
seemed to steady her resolve,
took out a phone and perhaps called here mum...
the sun shone overheadbut clouds gathered over her....

and as the signal turned green,
and the cars revved up to add to the din-
she resolutely stepped onto the roadway,
before a speeding truck heading for the bay.

it seemed the day ended that moment,
and as over the dead girl they bent-
i couldn't but remember,

the last glimpse of a face sad,
with tears streaming but with a smile....
maybe all those grieved ,grieved in vain,
maybe the truck ended all her pain....

and i couldn't but wish,
that she might have a better day,
that she is set free-
as i started my car and drove away...

The Trip Back Home

2007-12-10T02:27:00.000+05:30

As I sat on the speeding train,
I couldn't wait to reach home,
After 12 years I had finally realized,
I'd rather be here than Paris or Rome...

The photos lay in front of me,
As we raced through the lush green countryside,
The memories caught in those snaps seemed a touch away....
And I couldn't help breaking into smiles wide!

I had broken away from my nest to fly,
To take my place amidst the clouds in the bright blue sky,
Though success lay in my palm,inside I had died,
Missed those streets and those days gone by.

I craned my neck and caught the faint outline of the station,
I just couldn't wait,cuz my best friend is coming too...
Its been 4 years since we've even talked on the phone,
Life made us go separate ways,both me and you!

As I stepped onto the familiar ground and breathed in,
the air still seemed to smell of times gone by...
I spent all my mornings wandering in the bylanes again,
exploring the place where you could get the best apple pie!

It was at a cafe that I saw him.
Suited,smart,suave...shook hands with me,
We sat down and started talking about the wather,
Both a little awkward as we pretended to chat over tea.

Went down to the old school after a mighty long time,
Played in the sands,climbed the old hill overlooking the town...
But somewhere inside the man beside me,my pal was lost,
And I couldn't find him even as the sun went down.

Time it was for us then to part ways once again,
Awkward goodbyes and mute heartburn,
But as we looked into the other's eyes as the trains steamed away,
Spoke more than any words could have done.

And as I raced back to the bleak canvas of my life,
I realized I missed my pal now that he was gone,
He had changed a lot,but so had I,
That was why,the homecoming had felt so wrong...

The town hadn't changed,the change was in me,
In my haste to grow up,I didn't realize this happened when,
And now,so old and different..I didn't miss him,I missed those happy days,
I missed the wonderful people we were back then.

We the people.

2007-12-04T00:52:00.000+05:30

There seems to be a small step between the realm of the civilized and the uncivilized.Between the educated and the uneducated.The restrained and the savage.
It takes a moment of inflationary politics to tear off the mask of civility off our society.Perhaps a word,a poem or a speech...dug out from the graves of time for the express purpose of bringing the "CRUSADER" all the limelight..his/her 7 days of fame.

And it just takes one contentious issue for the "enlightened" society to remain mum while civil liberties are violated rampantly.It takes just the mention of one of the religious minorities to bestow justification to any act,howsoever unconstitutional or illogical.

After all,it is "wrong" of us to question anything that is perpetrated in the name of a certain "minority" even when the people of that community are too busy to care.

After all,"HURTING" the sentiments of people who have none is a greater crime in this land than murder;even when the people aren't hurt and the ones clamouring don't know what they're raging about!

And,contrary to what people say,this isn't limited to a certain community.This malice extends to all communities.Every one of us is supremely intolerant ofany criticism.AND terrorising the dissent into submission seems such a better option compared to rational discussions!As they say "It is all in god's name"

And that seems to be the problem.The fact that "bhagwaan" orders a bunch of saffron clad goons to murder missionaries.And tells them to ban any book that speaks ill,not of god,but of our own ways of exploiting god!The fact that "allah " orders hoodlums to drive an eminent author out of her sanctuary.Orders them to harrass her for her life.Terrorise her.The fact that the conscience of the government compels it to drive the author to the verge of tears as she struggles to save her life.To toss her like a shuttlecock in the pious winds of polity.

And the worse part?The fact that we,the people at large,the educated,the vanguard of the future,the "Rang De Basanti charged idealists keep mum,even though we know that we don't care what the author had written;even though both hindus and muslims condemn the action in their drawing rooms.
All this in the land of Buddha!In the name of The Mahatma's secularism.

When we lost.

2007-11-22T00:05:00.000+05:30

its strange how little it takes for us to degenerate from human beings,rational and humane,into complete beasts.No,I am wrong.It is a blatant insult to animals.They don't go about killing others of their species when left perfectly at peace.They don't indulge in murders.

They are much,much better.

However,we never seem to learn our lesson.Earlier today,calcutta was thrown into complete chaos and disarray when a bunch of hooligans,belonging to a minority community,sought to make their voice heard over a myriad range of issues,including the atrocities in Nondigram and the expulsion of Tasleema Nasreen.The protests started off with a irksome yet essentially peaceful road blockade.However,the protesters soon decided that peace doesn't encourage either theatrics or TV coverage.
In the space of a half-hour,the thing had escalated into a full-scale mob unrest.Cars and buses were burnt,so were police vans and taxis.The agitators(read goons)cordoned off several tarffic arteries,thus ensuring themselves of a plentiful supply of vehicles to burn and destroy and enough people(innocent commuters,of course) to spread the panic.
The heart of Calcutta was turned into a warzone with terrified people running for their lives;while the agitators(not goons anymore,now hardened criminals)splashed the streets with blood and glass and burnt tyres.Entire sections of the city were cordoned off by the police,which,of course,ws the only way to handle these people(minority,of course)
For the first time in 15 years,army had to be deployed in Calcutta and a curfew was declared for the night.Gunfire and street fighting continued way into the evening.
As I walked back from college this afternoon,goaded by a friend,I was startled to see how a city can change in a matter of a few hours.The college had been sealed and the principal had issued warnings advising us not to venture out.school students stood stuck in their schools way into the night.Greatest democracy in the world,huh?
The formal leader of the protestors promptly washed hands off the affair and said that his men were peaceful and it was a conspiracy to deface his party.The state leaders asked Tasleema Nasreen to leave.And as I type this out,army is patrolling parts of the city.We aren't capable of controlling ourselves any more.We need the army.Better than animals?
But maybe this too shall fade from the public memory until the next tragedy happens.But this afternoon,As I walked on those mob-ravaged streets,it seemed different.I wasn't in the same genteel sity anymore.Everything had changed,everything had become more violent and less tolerant.The streets wore a deserted,destroyed look,as if incredulous at the antics of man!Ambulances were attacked and so were school buses.This didn't seem India.For a moment there,it felt like somalia or sudan.Yes,there wasn't an official war.But there was a war all the same....and Humanity lost.

My brother

2007-11-20T23:51:00.000+05:30

i was walking back from work late in the evening,
and i was reading a book on family that day,
as i sat down on a park bench,
i was enjoying the book in my own way...

i read how important family was,
and how a trip back home at the end of the day,
could set your whole life right,
even if you had lost your way...

it said they are the people who love you your entire life,
be it happiness,sorrow or strife,
and their memories were enough to lighten up a dreary day,
and their smiles enough to usher joy onto a lonely way.

and i started believing that family is a rock,
that would protect me against any storm...
and i had almost decided to love them more,
even if it was quite different from my norm.

and as i finished my book,
i wanted to go back to my family with me around,
but as i rose to go,
i found my feet cemented to the ground.

for there stood my brother,right in front.
and i hesitated to go upto him and talk,
so many years apart now,it seems strangely awkward,
i can't believe he once used to be my rock.

i uneasily hold out my hand for a shake,
quite the modern man,am i really awake?
vague memories of playing together on the rug,
makes we wanna give him a warm hug.

after school,we had drifted apart...
i had new friends,about him i didn't care,
a big success now,i didn't want him anymore,
knowing such an embarrasment was a risk i couldn't dare.

he tried to smile,to hide the pain,
reminded me of the days we played in the pouring rain,
he said hello,i did too,
life hath made strangers out of me and you!!

families are supposed to look after each-other,
but as i stood on the soggy ground facing my brother,
the boss's call on my phone, all those memories faded
i wished we had never met,both a little jaded.

he just didn't fit into my life,career anymore,
i had a new family,money now..to be fair!
i gave him a quick nod and walked quickly away
while my own brother still stood numb there.

family affairs

2007-11-06T23:44:00.000+05:30

its strange how people can change sometimes.i was sifting through all my old magazines today and as usual,instead of throwing them away,i started reading them all over again.
there was a debate raging for quite some time then over whether the RD should indianize itself more or should remain a predominantly foreign magazine.the editors had made it pretty clear that though RD India would rely heavily on foreign materials,the context and the choice of articles published would be done,keeping in mind the indian diaspora...
And it was becuase of this that the article which was on the adjoining page startled me more...
an article about "how to handle your family and your relatives when you spend a holiday together as a family."
it was not so much the article,but the suggestions encorporated within it,that made me squirm...the author spoke about embarrasing times in front of the whole family,about green eyed monsters who always tried to put you down and your own mum,when she became too judgemental or emotional.the author put each sitaution down as a potential disaster and provided remedies or plausible solutions for each of them.

And i marvelled.i marvelled because we have grown so modern and "shining" that we now require magazine articles to deal with family.we now require a specialist to tell us not to get disheartened with our mothers or not to give up on our fathers.we now have therapists to tell that our family loves us at the end of the day and that it will always be our pillar of support....we just don't know that anymore!!

the article started with the question-"do you ever dread your family holidays because of that embarrasing uncle sam or that spiteful aunt mabel.......?"
the honest answer,sans the indian culture nonsense,would be yes...
but does that mean we now require magazine articles to decipher that our mothers love us no matter what..or that we can always turn to our family for support...?

the article was engrossing and very well written...i guess that was part of its charm.however,the final solution proposed by the author to all the realtionship blues was a striking one....
"remember that this holiday is only for a few days and you are going to return to your own normal life soon...."
that made family outings sound like common cold...didn't it?i mean,you can't get rid of it and its going to go away in a few days!!

maybe that is what families have become to us...detached old appendages.things that we wish to shed in our conquest of modernity.and what was great(!) was the fact that apparantly,the editors had thought the article suited indian contexts.maybe indians do need to start behaving with their families.maybe they need family therapy to teach them how to spend a holiday!
and all this in a country where we cry ourselves hoarse over traditional indian family values!

maybe i fight a lot with my mum...and i hate some of my relatives...but you know what?i would rather choose a messy but genuinely warm holiday with my family instead of a superby performed stage show!

an afternoon long ago

2007-10-19T11:20:00.000+05:30

its a strange thing,the rain...
it makes you remember your pain,
as it gushes down in torrents,sad
at the years gone down the drain-

those yellow evenings long ago,
when under a heavy sky..
you watched the birds fly!
and under the setting sun,
played basketball with your friends...

those are all but memory now-
you have become a millionare and how
forced everyobne to exclaim "wow!"

deal in millions-play with diamonds...
but with a heavy heart inside
want to reverse the tide...
alone in a friendless world.

the mornings on the volleyball court-
soaked in the summer shower
with your friends in the sweet bower,
little memories gone down the drain.

as you sit beside the window,
and watch it rain,and oh!
even in your million dollar room too...
you feel those memories flooding within you.

the afternoons spent in aimless wander,
chatting with your pals....you ponder,
the anxiety,the excitement and the pain,
has it all been washed by the rain?

and thus sits the unhappy millionare,
surrounded by his sparking glassware,
thinking of those days,
when he had friends...it was a glorious phase!
of those days fallen by in vain...
of those days when he used to enjoy the rain!

my town

2007-10-03T20:07:00.000+05:30

if you drive this way a little down,
you might pass through my little town-
let the gentle breeze guide your way,
while you drive through my town by the bay...

and while you walk by the cosy little homes,
on the pavement filled with dry autumn leaves,
you might think we are all happy,
contended in the life we've weaved.

every Sunday evening while you slowly drive by,
you might get fooled by the smiles of the children waving goodbye...
because we all try to show you that we smile,
while inside our hearts we do cry.

So,sing with me....
hep us,help us ,help us oh lord!please,
help us out of this pretty garden with its flowery breeze,
we wanna live in a place where we can cry and wheeze,
so help us out,we beg on our knees.

would you still love us if i say,
the happy mother walking cheerily today,
stares out of her perfect house into the dark night sky,
because,amidst all the smiles,her life seems a lie!

and that cute little baby playing in the dark,
is about to have his world town apart,
for his mum and dad are going their separate ways,
to decide who gets him,they have just ten days!

so pray for us,
help us, help us, help us...oh lord!
because this town is held together by such a frail chord,
and all we do is to pray,
that we have the courage to hold on for the rest of our days....

and so now,while you leave our town,
a little sad,munching our famous chocolate brown,
don't please get fooled by those cheery smiles wide,
for ours is a town that weeps inside.

2007-09-26T07:40:00.000+05:30

when i see you,
sitting on a chair on a pleasant evening,
crying,ever so silent tears rolling down...
i want to tell you something to vanish that frown.

when i see you,
alone on a terrace in the rain,
crying hard to forget your pain,
i want to assure you but don't know what to say...

when you sit staring out into the night sky,
thinking what might have been-all so sad,
of the past days when u think and sigh-
i want to tell you its not so bad!

and there are so many other things that i want to tell you,
how its the darkest before the dawn of the glorious sun,
and that you'll get every joy before you die,
but i am afraid it'll be a great big lie.

i see you afraid to take the next step,
hesitating on the brink of a fall,
you sit back reminiscence when and where,
you dance in the pouring rain without care...

baby,i am sorry but i have to tell you,
the days when we sang together are now gone,
and though everything good that i wanna do or say,
i can only tell you to go on...

memories of the dash through a rainswept road,
the way you rain carefree in those wintry mornings,
they aren't going to come back,howsoever hard you may try-
i am sorry to tell you,but its fruitless to cry.

i can promise you no brighter future hope,
and i can barely look into that hollow eye,
but the rain today is so different from those memories,
so go inside and wash your tears dry...

2007-09-23T08:20:00.000+05:30

sometimes it seems to be that all this blog thingy is a colossal waste of tim...i mean,no one ever reads the posts..and seldom does my ego ever get gratified!so what is the point of filling up these pages with mindless words strewn together making absolutely no meaning at all?
but then,it isn't my nature to do things that make sense...people say that they don't understand me,its just that i am far too eccentric to be understood.
i used to think that my life was a muddle of misery but then i found out,i was being vain...i used to hate hypocrites but then i saw,i was one...and that it was impossible for anyone not to be one,becuz always,your own point of view seems just to you!

i am terrible at writing and yet i don't give up...i am superlatively bad when it comes to writing on the computer...i just can't manage to size up my thoughts(which are so disoriented anyway!)while jabbing keys...most of the junk that you find here have been written on paper first and then painstakingly uploaded on the blog.
for some weird reason,i detest love...i have been described as a staunch "anti-romantic"..that i don't know;but what i do know is that,love flips me out.for me,there can be no greater joy than friendship..and i can never imagine leaving all the people i love for one person to bicker...it seems so very foolish!it irritatates me,all this talk about childhood sweethearts and heartburns.i am glad that i have never been in love,it just seems an experience not worth the pain.

i love sadness...the dark side of life allures me.whenever i watch it rain..i remember someone crying in the rain...everything is an expression of sorrow.
i don't have a great college life..its my fault.i never learn to appreciate what i have becuz i am too busy ruing what i lost...and then i lose some more and the cycle continues.

the hour

2007-09-20T19:58:00.000+05:30

he told me to hold his hand,
he had from me,no other demand,
he told me not to fear,
he kept me alive when none was near.

it was a windy day...
there were thorns on my way-
amidst the despair and the gloom
he was the one shieding me from doom.

he held out his hand to clasp mine,
to lead me out of the final ravine,
he assured me we would be just fine,
i'd live,even if his life was on the line!

he said there would be a storm that day,
and we had to be together to survive it all,
"the twister can never touch you while you're with me",
"i'd be your hero,so that you can walk tall"....

but something held me back,
i didn't hold out my hand that time,
maybe i had grown bold,didn't need him,
i thought,alone i could be just fine!

i needed no caring arm,
i can fight my battles alone..
he was startled as i walked away,
there was nothing that he could do or say.

maybe i had grown too bold,
in his shadow,following whaever he told,
maybe i thought,i'd done it all aone,
while his blanket saved me from the bitter cold.

he warned me again about the storm,
i just blew him away,
it was a clear day..told him to care for himself now,
there would be no storm that day!

there was the glorious sun overhead,
i was convinced he just wanted to scare me dead,
i thought he was carfty and evil,
i told him to walk away without a word being said...

he held out his lhand one last time,
told me to hold and i'd be just fine,
i abused him,for everything he was to blame....
with satisfaction,watched him disappear round the bend,
and that was when the storm came...

one night

2007-09-19T07:28:00.000+05:30

it was one day,
late at night-
that i,deep in sleep,suddenly woke up-
it was a dark room as i fumbled for light-
knocking over books and a cup.

as my senses slowly returned,
i drew the cutains apart,
and stared out into the clear summer night,
suspicious at what had stirred my heart.

it was a starless night,dark as adeath-
the air was still as if in a grave strewn with flower wreaths,
fragments of milky clouds wafted by,
like specks of paint in a black dye-

seemed that the darkness was within me,
pining in my miserable solitude,
i was as lonely as one can be,
there just seemed no joy to be viewed.

the streets looked deserted,forelorn...
the trees solemnly grieved-
and i sat atop my mountain,
entagled in the life i'd wieved.

more clouds floated by,as if to ligt up the sky,
as memories of the past engulfed me...
i realized that time was passing me by...
maybe this is why people are afraid to die!

as they say,the roses had died...
and it was the dawn of winter,
where the evenings were bleak and the mornings filled with sorrow...
i'd begun to wish there wouldn't be a tomorrow.

but while the sad song played in my heart,
i knew there wasn't anyone i could run to-
i had just to hold on,even if i wished to let go,
i had to pass the nights,for my friends and even my foes.

i didn't pretend there would be a better dawn-
i just knew i had to go on...
as the clouds flitted by a melancholy sky,
i couldn't allow myself to die!

like the stars waited for their chance to peep,
i had to wait for joy as i continued to weep,
and thus i cried no more,though it still hurt deep...
i just closed the window and went back to sleep.

a happy diwali!

2007-09-15T00:37:00.000+05:30

don't look uopn the child,
walking sullenly down the road...
wearing an old tattered gown,
starved,ill,all trodden down,
amongst the floodlit alleys of the majical town!

and why should you?
jostling for crackers and sweets in queue,
its a cold morning and its raining dew,
life has got different shades and hew...

its diwali and its the majic of light,
in rich savouries,you take a bite,
while over a bomb,the guys fight...
its all so perfect,you say...all so right!

don't see then,that boy,
hasn't got a rupee nor a toy,
don't help him,don't even try...
cuz you've to squeeze your purses dry.

the sky fills up in a million colurs,
and the faces of the children lighten-
why should one then go look for sorrow,
when everything seems to brighten?

afterall,the sunshine isn't for those,
those who cannot pay-
no diwali,no sweets...only rain,
for those who don't have anything the next day.

his face liven up at the sight,
teh crackers sparkling in a thousand light,
ventures to beg for one..the insolent mite!
they give him a thrashing,a quite big fight!!

and so ends diwali for him-
witha broken leg and eyesight dim...
not so for those proper and trim-
they have enjoyed it to the brim....
quite so,for now they reign supreme,
and for others?well...
a happy diwali or just a dream!

2007-09-15T00:34:00.000+05:30

is it always better to tell something in somebody's face when you know that the effect will be undesirable?is this called honesty or uncivil behaviour?

mirror of the mind

2007-09-13T01:06:00.000+05:30

i sometimes get the feeling that i am a despicable person...its like standing in front of a mirror and wondering who the ugly person is,staring back at you...only to find out,that it is you whose reflection you are hating.the only problem is that,since the mirror is inside you,inside your mind,you cannot deny what you feel.
sometimes,the things that you today find apalling are all the same things that you indulged in,a few years ago.its great when you're by yourself,but what happens when someone points that out?
for a few days now,i was in deep disgust of people who hanker for marks;who do anything to garner a few pointers from the teachers.i had put myself on the noble moral pedestal thinking i am above them and their petty actions.i actually thought that they were pitiable,since they were so worked up over a couple of marks.
but then i discovered i was not so mcuh better after all!i was chatting with an old friend from school who is now in the US and at 1 in the night...i got shocked,at me!i wasn't any better after all!i ws just the same.i too used to run around for marks..half a mark even!no wonder then,that my friends thought me to be hopeless...i myself find it ridiculous now.
but is that an excuse???can it be an excuse that,since i have changed...or i think i have,i can now go on judging people who are the same as i was...or perhaps,am?maybe the monster lies dormant.but that is beside the point.when did my priorities change?am i glad that they did??maybe.but what i've learnt is that i have got no right to judge people...or to be over the moon about this confession!

the problem with prejudices

2007-09-08T20:50:00.000+05:30

we all have prejudices...some display theirs overtly while others have theirs lurking in the deepest alleys of their minds.but we'll all be hypocrites if we say that we don't have some kind of fad or the other...for instance,i tend to judge people on the quality of their pronounciation.i know that is silly and is in no way a benchmark of a person,but that is just an instictive reaction that i can do little about.of course,the more sensible amongst us try to correct ourselves in hindsight and strive to limit the vice;but then,most of us aren't even aware of the deep-set notions that have cemented their roots in our consceince....

although prejudices are harmful by themselves and cause a lot of trouble to the person harbouring it as well as the person at whom it is directed....the more devastating and long term effect is on the society.yes,that is right!far fetched as it might seem,our little fads have a long term effect on the society...maybe not me or you..but when a lot of people share the same dirty little prejudice,it transcends the realm of the petty and becomes a socially acceptable norm,a constituent of societal prepriety!and then it takes years of labourious campaigns to enlighten the society once again...india is a prime example of this.more than a cradle of civilizations,over the centuries,it has acted as a confluence of myriad prejudices.some of them were nurtured and shared by a lot of people,mainly the patriarchs and soon they were no longer just notions...they had been moulded into the garb of tradition.it would take thousands of years for us to get rid of that once and for all!this weird idea that women somehow needed protection and were unfit social life was simply a wrong idea that got encouragement because it was shared by lots and lots of influential people!

and its not just with india or with the past.the same thing happens nowadays too!and just as much in the west as in the east!i mean,just look at the amount of insinuations faced by the gay community still!and all just because of the prejudice that,since their preferences are different,they are somehow lesser mortals.i overheard a friend of mine saying how disturbed he felt because elton john was openly gay!he thought it bizarre that" the greatest romantic singer is gay"...it was somehow a sacrilege to be gay.and it wasn't his fault.i often hear people grumble how that west is encouraging such fanatics by legalizing same-gender marriages.they seem to think that these people don't deserve any rights..they just need to be thrown off the social ladder...its nothing but a prejudice,but then so many people seem to have it in common!gay people are never romantic,they are not normal.they should be as boycotted as serial killers.

this isn't a piece to promote gay freedom,this is an effort to make us understand how lethal prejudices can be for the society.we can't shun them,but we can surely try to mitigate the effect they have on our lives.we can try to think rationally even if it feels difficult.i just hope that the next time my friend listens to an elton john composition,he appreciates the musical genius,no matter what the person behind that voice may be!

when sombody loses

2007-09-08T03:50:00.000+05:30

sometimes life is so very unfair to you....i mean,they say that it will all work out perfectly in the end and try to instill belief in us by telling us to keep faith in god but then life doesn't work out that way.i mean,yes you can say "life 's a bitch" and all that sort of crap but really,bad mouthing doesn't help you get over the situation!sometimes life turns so inexorably against you that all you can think of is to get out of the situation,never mind the losses..it seems to you that the other person always gets the advantage and you are always trying to get back into game with your back to the wall.
its especially unsettling when you support somebody in an encounter loses after plentiful chances of pulling off a miracle...it seems that all your emotional energy has been exhausted too and you just can't bring yourself to do your regular work for the rest of the day.that is the major disadvantage of associating your self too much with a game or a persona!you get too involved to separate yourself from them.
and the reason i have been subjecting all of you to this torture is the fact that my fav,venus willimas has just lost at the semifinals of the US Open...and it was a bit unfair becuz the top seed had got 2 days to rest and venus had none...but well,life is like that.i just can't pull myself up and go back to college now,not that it is an interesting prospect anyway,but i have to get on with my life!!!all this typing helps to throw out the depression.it seems to me that ther is no cure for all these disappointments and there is no good way to get positive about it so i guess,i will have to start accepting it,even if it means heartburn and lots of really depressing days!

the glam factor

2007-09-07T03:30:00.000+05:30

we indians are always whining how such a huge country such as ours never has had enough celebrated sportspersons...they blame the administration,the apalling lack of infrastructure and sometimes,even the genetic structure(which supposedly makes sports an unfavourable venture for indians)...and blah blah blah,various other reasons...
but what perhaps,the greatest hypocritical nation in the whole world doesn't admit is that,we are more into the glamour and the sensationalism of a win rather than the toil and sweat that goes into it.i mean,sure,we are elated when a sania mirza defeats some opponent ranked 1000th in the world in the first round of some obscure tournament,but never give a damn about all those times when indians truimph in some less-glamourous discipline.we,as a collective society,obsess about a few things and completely neglect others.we create a hoopla when we defeat 2 teams out of 10 in cricket or when tendulkar is ranked 1 in the world,which is of course,a great euphemism because 1% of the world actually plays cricket!don't get me wrong,i love cricket,but i just think that if we want some real success then we should rather focus on some more disciplines other than the ones already established.
i am jsut back from the mixed doubles final at this year's US Open...where leander paes lost.but did it matter to anyone that he was in the FINALS of a grand slam???NO!would it have mattered had he won???NO...it would have meant a footnote on the major news channels.but does that mean indians don't understand tennis??why,we scream ourselves hoarse when sania mirza goes out to play..even if she is a complete disaster,we still find excuses in "she gave a good fight" and "she has a brilliant future"....PEOPLE,LOOK AT THE PRESENT!!!
here is paes,india's greatest tennis player,ever...in the finals of a major,something that the pretty mirza can never ever dream of!however,there are no indian supporters on court to cheer him...they are all too tired after cheering mirza's doubles loss!and her single's loss!and her mixe doubles loss!
i don't think this applies only to sports....we go after glamour in every sphere of life...this phenomena transcends the realm of sports and pouts into the social behaviour as well.well,this month,we had two death anniversaries.first,princess diana...we had all sorts of memorial services and news discussions and special documentaries aired on TV.next,mother teresa...footnote!the greatest soul of the 20th century was too low-glamour for a mention!

so,the next time we whine about india not winning anything...do a few things!start encouraging other sports..and i am not talking abut the government,the society needs to do its bit too!and try to appreciate talent(unmixed with beauty)...and ofcourse,there is that small thing you could always do--flick the TV channel,you might as well see leander win his next crown!

the pursuit of happiness

2007-09-06T14:51:00.000+05:30

i woke up in the morning-
sunlight streaming through the window-
a bright new day...
the sun shining over the mist-
light to forge a new way।

and as i sat reclined on the bed,
in the land of the sad and the newly-wed,
the air was filled with such hope,
the prospects of future in it,i read.

i went out,threw a party,
remained busy all day
and while the sunshine remained,made hay.

i sang,i danced and the morning thus turned to noon-
and into my work,i swooned.
big offices big posts,fat salary-that was my story
never realized my real life was going hunky-dory-

and the cycle of life thus continued to turn,
in my job,my parties i still burned,
raised a family in the sunset valley,
and thought it would wait for me,the happiness that i earned!

and the noon turned to evening,

left me busy as ever,but still pining,
there is so much to do,so muh to earn-so little time;
there was no end to my whining.

and while that day,i sat in the park-
and watched the birds go by-
i realized it was the sunshine that made me feel alive.
and that morning wasn't the beginning,
it was happiness,that very moment!

and while i was lost in thought,the sun-
had traversed the bright red sky,.
and as night fell i could understand why,

through the spring,the summer,the autumn and fall....
i hadn't..i hadn't quite lived at all!

new beginnings

2007-09-04T15:08:00.000+05:30

the times are changing,
make today your dreams wide ranging,
its a glorious sunny day,
there is ample light for you to find your way....

the winds surely have changed their direction,
they are finally ready,
to carry you to your destination.
the storm has subsided,
the wind has been guided--

your house has broken down,
the storm last night has destroyed the whole town,

its now up to you,
to paint your life in a brand new hue,
you too shall rise from the devastation,
and carry on walking to your destination.

the night has passed,
all your failures haven't last,
arise-awake now,
and force everyone to wow.

realize your dreams-soar high...
for you today,no goal is nigh.
because of then storm last night,you might have been pained...
so,show to the world,the times have changed!

2007-09-02T10:59:00.000+05:30

there is something about love
that makes me uneasy
something about the roses and doves,
that makes my heart go dizzy.

everywhere you go,they follow,
as if the whole world they've swallowed,
be it a park or a lonely road on a windy night-
the lovers are never out of sight!

there is something about love,
that makes fools out of wise men,
they stop living their lives,spend time instead,
fretting in stupid cupid's den!

they say can't buy me love-
and yet spend all their money on valentine-
ditch thei friends,fight with family
just to hold hands and say, "you're mine!"

there is something wrong about love,
a virus attack has more mercy,
"my heart was hers the day i saw her"
says the next door 10 year old percy.

there are dating books,much like maths-
equations to get into her mind,
romances fall in days,soul mates fight like hell,
how is this life's greatest find??

tell me i am crazy,but i think,
love is a devil in a pretty pink dress,
i like my evenings quiet and my money safe,
to fall in love seems such a mess!

ther is something false about love,
breaking hearts,killing dreams-
so let me sleep in my world not messed up by love,
becuz baby,love ain't as great as it seems!

loads of rubbish!

2007-08-28T20:43:00.000+05:30

hey,its me again......
i am back from the movies...and it was a terribly melodramatic film that i had the misfortune of watching.great performances but poor script and lax direction.film based on the grief of parents whose children go and settle abroad.....
the film was rubbish but is there any fault if we settle abroad...after all,everyone wants to succeed...i mean,the same parents who are now rebuking you for being too money oriented,would have happily lapped up any oppurtunities that came their way!
i mean,its wrong to desert our parents but isn't it even somehow worse to not make the most of your life????