this one emanates from sheer desperation.
not angst.this is too delicate to be wrathed upon.
angst doesnt happen when you have your back completely against the wall.
like now.
feeling very succumbing and giving-up-on-everything~ish.
like a battle lost,a day wasted.
and the entire pallette of things to have triggered this-uncountable...
and to find your voice so feeble and drowned in a cacophony of furore can feel so defeating.

even the end of the tunnel seems so bleak.

"And life goes on..."

i have seen my system goes miserably awry if a particular routine is suddeenly put to a halt.
it is awry right now.very unkempt and largely unoriented.
life for the past one week had been rather hectic and how!
getting up at half past six in the morning and still getting late for the morning show had been a custom.breakfast still in mouth,groggy faced running after the rickshaw will be much missed.
and yes!god bless the metro.for impunctual souls like yours truly,the machine is one godsent tin can!for someone to have caught the 9AM metro from tollygunje and yet to have sat pretty in the Rabindra Sadan auditorium at 9.15 is entirely incredulous,if you ask me.
but yes.thats what i did for the last few days.
for people who havent yet figured what i was upto,i am talking about the Calcutta Film Festival that happenned between the 10th and the 17th of this month.
lets just say,the "festival" didnt start on a very happy note what with 'buddhhijibis' and commoners all raising a great hue and cry over the bloody carnages at nandigram and "how on earth could they even think of organising a 'festival' at such time...?"
posters written impromptu and rallying and picketing happenned in front of Nandan.ironically people protesting against the government and demanding a withdrawal of the festival were mostly people who after being bailed out(yes,they were arrested)continued watching the films with the same gusto as us!
Oh and phones kept ringing throughout the film screenings.and sometimes people were audacious enough to even answer them informing the caller about his whereabouts..
"arreh!Nandane achhi.ha ha...flim dekhchhi..ha ha..flim festival cholchhe toh..ha ha..aro kotokhhon?(nudging the person next to him..achha dada kotokhhon cholbe?).."and so it went.ringtones and singtones of all kinds,interjected with occassional grunts and groans from fellow audiences.
and yes,two three major faux pas happenned.films got changed just like that without proper notice.this unprofessional stance of the festival authorities and this general tendency of belittling the audience infuriated me much.it was only after we had started watching a particular film taht we realised that its not what we had hoped to watch.
and i almost always had mashimas sitting next to me eloquently translating subtitles to thier corresponding colloquial.However,glares and vindictive guffaws did little to play down the tempo.
having said all that,i still dont have enough words to describe the sheer surge of emotion watching the films back to back,the sound of an alien dialect against your ear,the psychedelic play of colours before your eyes and a gamut of ideas wreaking havoc within you.its an ineffable feeling!
inspite of the motley crowds of people swarming all around you,the ambience helps you create your own niche under the sun.and the films can totally estrange you from everything that you are abound by.
lots of people were met,long discussions conjured,dreams dreamt and fantasies woven together.
having constantly heard foreign languages for consecutive days-words that held no significance unless corresponded by subtitles scrolling below,the words came to form a crude melody,something i got so attuned to,that watching an english film with no subtitles proved so jarring i got lost in incoherence.

on the whole,the experience has left me in a daze,and i can realise breaking free will prove hard task.

pujo

verbose is the moment.
there are times when i could pass off without really saying anything.nothing illustrative.often symbolic.euphemistic.suchlike.
times flip.and they do wonderful things to your mood too.
garrulous is the mood now.the talk has to happen.its been gagged for long.only the talk can yield respite.
so conversation flows.it gurgles like a happy brook.usual chit chats.the normal exchanges.hackneyed,but in practice still.
mostly 'for the sake of it'.nods.a forced smile.hands firmly shaken.
too many people near the window huddling for space.face powders and masquarade.

pujo seemed less forced in comparison.hardly any "have-to" and "must-dos" figured on the list.one did.but that too turned out to be pleasant.
in a way pujo was whimsical.strangely "very utopic" plan worked out pretty well.
dhonpota was more than what one would call surreal.very liberating and yes,overwhelming too!funny how images in your mind's eye seem more focussed and less grainy than the ones in the photo.the image has adhered.it comes back in momentary hallucinations and strikes me when least likely.
however maddox came as a major let downer.not that much was expected.the hype has gotten too much into their goddamn heads.the dhakis play for just about a few minutes.too many happy gay people clapping and making 'hoo-haa' howls kills even that.and the place reeks claustrophobia.starry eyed bejewelled flashy juniors from school,equally hideous eye candies in tow;a demented relative;still more happy shiny juniors from school, maddox robbed me off my nobomi thunder.
another pujo gone.and i wonder how many are left on me now...

we used to have durga puja in our mamabari even a few years ago.
i was a kid then.celebrations started early.the drawing room would be vacated and all furnitures got stashed below the staircase.during those few days the staircase would become our makeshift playroom.and the cocacola cretes could easily be tucked beneath the cumbersome and greasy sofas.
the pandal would jut out into the pavement.the tables were all laid out there.
and 'Maa' would come on chaturthi.riding the lorry was then the biggest proof of how 'brave and strong' you were.once home,Maa's face would be covered by a hankerchief followed by great disputes over the ownership of the cloth once it would be unfurled.i was too small and thus never considered.
panchami was non descript and i would mostly stay flopped on the couch in the staircase voraciously gorging on the contents of the sharodia.
the footfall happenned shashthi onwards and would go on till dashami.
there were relatives you chanced upon only on those four days of the year.there were others whom you had never seen but who squeezed your cheeks and patted and ruffled your hair,all the same.and there were still others who you had,allegedly,seen before but couldnt recall even if you tried real hard.and all of them came everyday and the familiarity grew.uncannily these were people you could go and confide in if ma had been very harsh on you.but the sulking and weeping happenned alone,in the staircase.
kumari pujo and sandhi pujo intrigued me much.
the latter would mostly happen in the dead of the night or in the wee hours of the morning.there were cousins who would go and snooze off in the loo.and even heavy banging on the door couldnt perturb them!
the kumari was draped in a benarasi.gold jewellery and alta would complete her look.and chhotomamu carried her in his arms and took her inside.
clearly the kumari would demand all attention and that pissed me greatly.
i had envied her so much i craved to be a kumari myself but was told i couldn't as "i wasnt a brahmin",something i havent figured out till this day.
asthami and nabami bhog comprised the best of bangali cuisines.that was probably why so many people came on those two days.
dashami had an eternal melancholy attached to it.it still does.i would wake up with a bad feeling that lingered throughout the day.the pujo got over by morning.shidur khela happenned till late afternoon.and i would go about the entire affair cluthching onto ma's anchal and end up looking like a red babbon with vermillion smeared all over.
bhashan was what i looked forward to the most.the elder cousins would have their friends come over and they would all dance through the entire journey while i sat next to Ganesha as per ma's dictum.she probably feared a stampede in the lorry and me being her only progeny,didnt want to risk it!
babu ghat would always be mobbed.amidst the din and gyrations of the bhashan parties,'Maa' would be thrown into the river,already clattered with several such idols afloat.
and while the rest danced as if taken by a wild frenzy,i would listlessly gape at Maa's demure face.i cant tell what i saw in those two eyes but they seemed a lot different from the idol we had brought home.

rangamamu died in a major heart attack.it was totally unexpected and we didnt know how to react till very lately.but what probably struck everyone is that the man behind our pujo was no longer.
pujo stopped in 2002.five years since then pujo still happens in our lives.albeit a lot differently.cousins have moved to other cities,countries.
i tried making myself acquanited with para pujo.but the thing never sunk in and i moved on.i tried the college pujo last time.but guess that is not working out either.i am thinking of spending pujo outside kolkata this time.in places in the outskirts.mofussils.
i am trying hard.but the void will remain.i know.

i am on a blogging spree.its become my pet strategy to put off work pressure.
its not funny when you have two goddamn projects and two tutorials lined up for the week.
however what IS funny is how,in such acute situations,i find recluse in the most bizarre things.sudoku then.blog now.
what has remained constant is my love for the radio.not your jing bang stations belting out himmesh reshammiya 24*7.i have remained a patron of AIR since forever i think.
the family pretends they dont know me.and they have every reason not to.
i would have acted the same way had i HAD TO board with 'me'.
ma is sweet.she prefers to hold her nose from the head backwards.i have lost count of the times she has cribbed about how nice and petit i was as a kid.
ma is damn sweet.she has tried a zilion times to drive home the point that i have turned out a demented freak.but everytime she cant get beyond the cribbing part.
baba is more candid.you can get from the way he watches me.its the same look a chaffeur gives to a flat tyre.
i am too much torn between trying to be normal and me all at the same time.
resolutions are a bad idea.and temptation is,err...too tempting.trying to stick to conventions is very stifling even if it means less awkward stares and widemouthed gaping.
on a different note,or maybe it aint that different from what i have been discussing if it can be considered a discussion at all,watching dogs mate has turned out to be a nice pastime.
its not exactly mating but a hell lot of foreplay,sniffing and barking around.
there is only one bitch(!!!) and some 7,8 horny,nymphomaniac dogs in the campus.
the bitch probably thinks she is the best thing that could have ever happenned to dog kind.and the dogs,as dogs are,cant get enough of her.what follows i leave to your imagination.but discerning 'the act' for sometime now,i cant suppress my intrigue.there must have been or is a Vatsayana among the dogs.
try watching dog-fucking the next time if you dont believe me.

we are all out on a joyous ride in a rickety merry go round.
happy shiny people all up for a spin.
i am in it too.happy starry me perched atop a greasy red chair.
the spin doesnt last more than a few minutes.
but as long as it does,it takes me on a trip.everything blurs and the conscience sneeks out the backdoor.

slowly as the tin-spin creeks to a halt it comes rushing back.
its like the luggage being returned after the "trip" is over.
only here you dont have anyone to drag your 'luggage' for you.

times like this dont you wish you didnt go for the trip in the first place?
i do.but the tin-spin has got me addicted.
i am up for a spin again.
the only thing i fear,i wont be able to drag my luggage tonight.

i feel like a vulnerable retard these days.
the facade has stopped working.
the smile faded long back.
now,only the nose cringes and the brows raise.
lips quiver occassionally.
but the howling and wailing always happen flopped on the bathroom floor.
thats my recluse.my haven.
i think every man should be entitled to a loo each.even if he didnt have any other accomodation.the loo would be his think pad,his office,his lounge and err... his loo too!
the shower is my rain maker.
rains,i have realised,bring out a new me.
the shower does close to that.
there is a freaking uncanniness in how the shower pacifies me.
the sobs get more controlled.and the tears taste less salty.
net effect:it sobers me down.

i have a mind block.nothing feels right.i cant write in proper sentences.
its as if they have broken down into disparate little phrases.

the retard has resurfaced.i see too much into people.read too much into simple lines.think out of the way.and bleed within.
masochism is a curse.
the bloody retard is a leech.it just refuses to pack bags and leave.

here comes the rain...

i have reached a point where the rains dont seem morbid anymore.
nor the grey sky.
not the musty odour hanging loose in the night air,either.
it all seems very thats-how-it-should-be~ish
waking up everyday to the same drizzle pelting down the parapet.
waking up with a sore throat like someone's scratching a very sharp pencil against it.
the coffee had little sugar in it today.
and the rain stopped for some minutes before starting with a far greater gusto all over again.
locking oneself in the house for a few days flat isnt worth complaining.
make boats and sail them in the nearby pothole instead.
burn paper and breathe in the whiff of burnt incandescence.
hum.croon.
but dont sulk.
pls.
the rains are not sulk-inducing elements.
they are good things that keep workaholics like maa home on an otherwise very very busy monday morning.
dont go blaming the mayor.
he is a do gooder.
he helped flood the streets so that you enjoy an extended weekend.
God bless the mayor.
encore!

Mera Bharat Mahan

patriotism is a strange thing.ask an indian.he will count days and tell you exactly when he feels "patriotic".it will vary anywhere between five and ten.
though,i suspect that many people might consider ogling at sania and her assets as major "patriotism"!
independence day seemed big this year.we apparently had completed 60 years of 'independence' and thus the jubilation.the honourable PM saab gave illustrious examples of how much progress the nation had made in all these years.while he indulged his eloquence,half the populace slaved away in call centres,banks,IT firms et al.it is mandatory to work on the independence day.the country needs your labour.and thus SLAVE YOU MUST!
it is sheer irony if you come to think of it.would-be johnsons and jessicas clad in kurta pajama/saree selling cheap labour,speaking chaste english so that you doubt if 'george mackenzie' is actually the same old ramachandra krishnamurthy hailing from the remote village in kerala.
patriotism sells.films with super-deshbhakti-mush hit the jackpot at box office.its the safest bet.it projects the new age india-the coming of time india.with her youth standing up against injustice.boy oh boy!if that is not a good plot,what is?
its incredible how we have come so far and yet somewhere it seems as if we never advanced.like as if india has been stuck in this time warp all this while.
the intelligentsia might ponder over debates as to whether the colonialists did us any good.
my point is,have we?
have we really progressed in all these 60 years?what we call economic boom or india shining for that matter is nothing but a repitition of colonialism .ofcourse this time 'they' coined a diplomatic term and called it globalisation.so super malls and multiplexes come flood the country,thereby driving the entire indegenous market out of business.its a brandised nation.this.but major illitearcy prevails.so does poverty.while a meagre 10% feeds on big mac burgers and fried chickens,lakhs go unfed for days.
india still boasts of such malpractises as dowry.and sati continues in some nooks and crannies of Rajasthan,U.P and the like.
you tell me stories about women's empowerment.about girls working and standing on "their own feet".and i will tell you stories of rape,female infanticide,child abuse,eve teasing and casting couches.
the girl next door might work in a big-weeg multinational company but coax her and she will relate how she had to walk/sing/dance/undo her hair/skin before her would be in-laws finalised the marriage.
the science teacher in your college might propound a hell lot of scientific bullshit and yet you will find him wearing that shiny silver amulet around the arm.
a country which proclaims herself "secular" and yet is most vulnerable in matters related to religion.while a pious muslim prays five times a day and indulges in violence all in the name of the holy koran,hindu ladies line up infront of the mandir on shivaratri to worship what is nothing short of a phallus!
a fanatic nation caught up between cricket and bollywood,the country unanimously mourns the conviction of munnabhai as also rejoices the triumph against england.
a country that remains immersed in flood half the year and threatened by the evil forces of terrorism the other.
a country where politicians crossvote,conspire,corrupt and exploit their posts all in the name of the 'janta'.

i came across an article where the author voiced genuine concern regarding indian state of affairs.
"if we are to believe India achieves 60 years of independence this year",the author quipped,"should we assume that the country will retire soon?"

worth a thought.eh,gentlemen?

came across a tag in inihos' blog.i am not a 'tag person'.but this one seemed different.here's what i feel:-


If I were a beginning, I would be: the beginning of life
If I were a month, I would be: august
If I were a day of the week, I would be: saturday
If I were a time of day, I would be: dawn
If I were a planet, I would be: Earth
If I were a season, I would be: Fall
If I were a sea animal, I would be: a sea horse
If I were a direction, I would be: east
If I were a piece of furniture, I would be: a book shelf
If I were a sin,I would be: a white lie
If I were a liquid, I would be: rain
If I were a fraud/scare, I would be: a catastrophe
If I were a gem, I would be: a diamond
If I were a tree, I would be: a gulmohar
If I were a tool, I would be a: chisel
If I were a flower/plant, I would be: a wild strawberry bush
If I were a kind of weather, I would be: a breezy evening
If I were a musical instrument, I would be: a harmonica
If I were an animal, I would be: a squirrel
If I were an emotion, I would be: affection
If I were a vegetable, I would be: a ginger
If I were a sound, I would be : the tinkle of a bell
If I were an element, I would be: air
If I were a car, I would be: a jeep
If I were a song, I would be: leaving on a jet plane
If I were a food, I would be: a bread
If I were a place, I would be: Kolkata
If I were a material, I would be: hand made paper
If I were a taste, I would be: the taste of home made cuisines
If I were a scent,I would be: the smell of wet earth
If I were a religion, I would be: zoroastrian
If I were a sentence, I would be: incoherent
If I were a body part, I would be: the eyes
If I were a facial expression, I would be: a raised eyebrow
If I were a subject in college, I would be: culture
If I were a shape, I would be: a star
If I were a quantity, I would be: infinite
If I were a color, I would be: beige
If I were a thing, I would be: a wish
If I were a landmass, I would be: a faraway county
If I were a book, I would be: The Little Prince
If I were a monument, I would be: Sahid Minar
If I were an artist, I would be: Sukumar Ray
If I were a collection of poems, I would be: The Heights of Machupichu
If I were a landscape, I would be : the valley
If I were a watch, I would be: timeless
If I were God, I would be: forgiving
If I were a vowel, I would be: A
If I were a consonant, I would be: R
If I were a formula, I would be: irrefutable
If I were a Science, I would be: chemistry
If I were a theory, I would be: Idealism
If I were a famous person, I would be: Nelson Mandela
If I were an electronic equipment, I would be: a radio
If I were sport, I would be: snorkelling
If I were a movie, I would be: Fahrenheit 451
If I were a cartoon, I would be: hobbes
If I were an explorer,I would be: Vasco da gama
If I were a scientist, I would be: Stephen Hawking
If I were a relation, I would be: a friend
If I were a river, I would be: Seine
If I were intoxication,I would be: laughter
If I were alone, I would be: contemplating
If I were a question, then I would be: how
If I were a hobby,I would be: writing
If I were a habit, I would be: charity
If I were an atom, I would be: miniscule
If I were an end, I would be: unhappiness
If I were you, I would be: continuing this tag

sepia memories and absconding images...

the wall looked more dogged than yellow.years of rough weathering and corrosion had taken its toll and the structure bore a graphic testimony to the inclement times.the paint was peeling at some places.at others,cracks had devoloped and a trail of ants entered and exited them with impeccable synchronisation.
set against such deplorable background,the red spiral staircase offered a stark contrast.though the color had chipped occassionally, around the handrail,the stairway looked very bright amidst the peeling yellow wall and the daily din and bustle of the road overlooking it.
she did not live there.yet,te helixical stairway fascinated her much so that she kept coming back just to stare at it.once,she had even run her fingers along it but given the humdrum and activities on the road, never could muster enough courage to climb the steps.
she thought of it now.there was something in those stairs that intrigued her to no end.maybe the fact that she always wanted to know where it led.she knew that once she climbed it,the fantasy would be lost forever.and thus till this day,she nurtured her imagintaion simply gaping at it.it had been years since she first saw it and still the mystic red flight had a charming aura about it that captured her and took her to dizzy height everytime she pondered on it.
no one lived in that house.it stood there like an abandoned child.uncared.crumbling.and yet it clung to its uncanny familiarity.the wall had crumbled in a few places.naked brick showed through the dirty yellow parches.the cracks had widened with time.the red staircase had worn too.the paint had fallen in flakes and the rickety steps looked rustier than before.green creepers had adorned the rails and inspite of its wretched condition,in her eyes the spiral stairs still looked captivating.


the road was busier today.a motley crowd had thronged near the wall.and a deafening roar of machines and human voices rent the air.she squirmed through two burly men who stood there busy giving orders to the minions.
what she saw didnot astonish her much.the neighbourhood had been contemplating this for a long time now.the wall had been brought down and damp bricks and debris sat in mounds near their feet.the staircase still stood proud amidst the dusty rubble.
'so the staircase wouldnt be dismantled after all',she reasoned.
just then Burly gave sharp orders to one of the minions.his finger struck out pointedly at something.her eyes followed suit.a gleaming yellow bulldozer stood at a distance as if warming up before it pounced on its victim!
a nagging nostalgia wrenched her heart now.she just wanted to climb it once before it succumbed to the blows of the bulldozer and became a despicable mangle of iron.
convincing Burly hadnt been easy.Burly had been particularly irked by her repeated pleadings.surely,he couldnt make out what the big deal was.'they' never do.
the stairs were rickety and climbing them would only mean welcoming danger,Burly had grunted.but she pleaded on.
finally he had consented.the crowd had thickened.the whole place buzzed in delirium.
she took a deep breath before she started climbing 'it'.her limbs wobbled in excitement.the whole while she climbed,the crowd cheered on,but she heard or saw nothing.taking a step at a time,she ascended the steps quitely,her whole being shaking in trepidation.
she didnt know where it went.and you could see she wasnt prepared enough to come face to face with the reality.all the fantasies that she had woven around these stairs for so long could end in utter delusion.and she fretted she wouldnt be able to reckon with it.her random flights to neverland,her indulgent reveries and surreal trips were to end today and she hopelessly clung onto them.once she had reached the top,she stood there for a moment,closed her eyes and ran her fingers along the rail one last time and then descended with the same poise and dignity as before.

her fantasies behind her,she mingled with the frenzied mob and retracing her steps, walked away into oblivion...

of myriad hues and roadside blues...

she bit her lip and grimaced.the sudoku was taking longer time than usual to crack today.the road took a sharp bend prodding another bout of nausea to creep up her throat.it had been happenning since morning.ever since the car reached Haldwani.the bends and hair-pin turns had made her feel pukish,time after time.
she had tried finding comfort in the lush greenery outside-the pine,fern and deodar trees.in the cacophony of the twittering birds.in the derelict huts and cottages propped up against the hill.but nothing helped.another hair-pin curve and yet another bout of nausea came rushing back.
besides,it started drizzling halfway through the journey so that she had to shut the window.not because of the rain so much,but more because she couldn't endure the smell of wet earth.
the car combed through the hilly driveway.a truck came tearing from the otherside,honked twice and swerved past their car by dint of deft manoeuvring.
another stretch of insipid drive followed.
suddenly,darkness fell in the hillside.the pines and deodar silhouettes stood like soldiers on either side.the yellow headlight from the car investigated the road and apart from the occassional honking at every turn,silence hung in the dense night air.
she didnt even realise when the misty and smoky night fall had lulled her to sleep but when she woke up the sky was blushing a rosy pink and the red sun rose amidst the green hills.
there was about a mile of journey left.the bends turned steeper but somehow the sunny ambience could do nothing to perturb her spirits.when the journey ended they had reached the top of the hill.she got down form the car.inhaled a whiff of fresh air,closed her eyes and stretched out her arms as if embracing the valley that lay beneath her-thousands of miles below.
she then went back into the car,delicately plucked the deodar sapling from the seat unfurled the paper that held it and squatting on her haunches planted it in the wet earth.and after watering it with utmost dedications she got up,inspected it and retreated into the car without turning back once.
the engine gave a warm groan and started again.this time going downhill.
the same environ the same cacophony of twittering birds,the same pine ferns standing like alert soldiers...
the gusty morning breeze dishevelled her hair.and when she brushed them from her face,a weak smile adhered the corner of her lips.
her work done,she draped the shawl across her bosom and went off to sleep.

and up there on top of the hill
rukmini(thats what she had named teh sapling) swayed and glistened as the mellow sunlight bathed it in honey rays...

paper boats...

if you looked closely enough, you could see her coming through the curtain of rain...
barring her yellow umbrella,the day presented a drab picture...the murky sky,the rain washed streets,a few plastics clogging the sewarage and two soggy paper boats sailing blissfully in the nearest pothole.
it had been raining since morning and looking at the sky,you could tell that it would go on all day.

she was at arm's length now.unkempt hair,trousers drawn uptill the knee,barefeet, she looked a bit worn out.the blue liner had smudged near the eyes but they exuded the same warmth as the last time we had met.
"fancy meeting on sucha rainsloshed day,huh?"she quipped.
"i see you havent any shoes on"i observed.
"ya,they are in the bag...fancied wetting my feet"
so 'fancy' was The Word now.last time we had met it had been 'flabbergasted'
it was fun hearing flabbergasted in every two seconds...
"...and i was so flabbergasted seeing that...and then that flabbergasted feling you know...you know what i mean,nah?"
and so it went the whole afternoon.

"sheesh man!"she was limping on one leg now..
"something bit me near my heel"she had already thrown a ruchus by then...
"relax.."i assured,"there arent any whales in here"
"how do u know?"
the liner had started trickling down her cheeks...it traced a blue outline all the way across her cheekbone...
it was raining hard now...
the yellow umbrella unfurled again...
"you said you would teach me how to make boats"
"you dont know how to make them?"
"what's the big deal?i'll learn today"i shrugged,a mild wave of indifference gaining on me..
she was cackling now..."you dunno how to make boats..fancy not being able to make boats..."she chanted in a sing song voice,enough to drive any sane individual up the wall.

an hour later, the rain had been pelting down hard against the tin roof..we were sitting legs dangling on a certain somebody's verandah...and a thousand paper boat lay strewn all over the floor...

and when the rain stopped,she waded through the water,barefeet,just as she had come, till the gathering darkness completely faded her away.

and the boats floated bithely in the potholes all night before another thunderstorm swept them away...

Of insomniac afternoons and indulgent reveries...

time halts and ideas play havoc in the mind.lying on the couch.feeling hot.sweaty.Maugham dangles precariously from hand.the fan drones noisily.the T.V is in mute.staring blankly at the screen.thoughts flood and apprehensions and premonitions adhere to the skeptic mind.sweaty beads on forehead.kajer mashi scurries past the backyard sulking noisily to herself about the work pressure.the chappal flaps on the hot cement.
tom smacks jerry on the head.tulsi cries.kumkum seeks vengeance.sidhhu roars with laughter at a not-so-funny joke.the screen flickers and vision blurs.
the couch feels unnaturally hot.the floor is cooler in comparison.the T.V is turned off.Maugham is returned to the shelf.the pillow is made even.hair hangs loose and spreads on the mosaic.staring blankly at the ceiling evokes hypnosis.the fan blades whip the warm claustrophobia.
and yet another afternoon whiles away in uneventful listlessness...

it rained heavily that evening.and apart from a few rowdy boys playing football and howling occasionally,the ground resembled a desolate spectacle.
the incadescent neon light had cast an orange halo.and when the rain fell against it,it looked ethereal.
the rain fairy gazed at it listlessly-bemused,enchanted,intrigued...there was something in her eyes,you could tell.the rain fell steadily on her apple face.it trickled down her hair,brows,cheeks till it disappeared at the corner of her lips.
musty rain drops...
the ball thumped noisily on the flat concrete.the boys jostled and shrieked in unison.the goal got saved.cheers and whistles hung in midair.
the Rain fairy smiled and looked away.the 'thump' gradually dissolved in the background.
words spilled out like booze spurts out of a freshly uncorked bottle.conversation flowed.the night air felt intoxicating as it caressed the wet skin lovingly.the chilly wind flirtatiously hugged the moist frizzy hair.
the walking turned out to be hypnotic after a while.walking around in continuous circles can effectively evoke hypnosis!!!
and the hand she held felt unnaturally soft,warm and reassuring...
and when the rain stopped,the Rain fairy again returned to her recluse behind the clouds across the horizon where the sky was grey and the grass looked like a bed of crystals gleaming of musty rain drops...

boredom has this innate quality of driving me up the wall.sheer boredom.just that and nothing else.
yawn.twitch.yawn.contemplate.scratch.drool.squint.hum.yawn.think.plan.yawn.rolleyes.mutter.hog.pee.talk.mumble.yawn.sleep.hogmore.
and so it goes.
for the last two days this is all i was up to.
and oh!i did go watch a play.and i watched "you've got mail" after a really long time.
the stupid media player is screwed.the computer tells me i have a fake software.like,that is something i didnt know already.i mean thats no surprise for me.considering the phoney crooks we have turned out to be,its hardly a wonder that our system is fake too
but tahts hardly the point i was going to make.see,this is the issue with me.i start off saying one thing and before you know it,i have started off with another.
on a different note,i wish it wouldnt be so hot althroughout the day.it can be particularly stifling to sit home all day just because its sweltering outside.not that i care much,but the people i stay with(read,parents)have serious issues with me going out in the daytime.
parents,i tell you,can be the most disconcerting creatures.*sigh*

1. Pick out a scar you have, and explain how you got it:
on the wrist.some girl from school had dug her nails right in there.
2. What is on the walls in your room?
red and creme paint
3. What does your phone look like?
i dont have a phone(do a small jig before settling down)
4. What music do you listen to?
whatever sounds nice to the ears.
5. What is your current desktop picture?
baby with a big pout
6. What do you want more than anything right now?
i wanna get over with this stupid tag.
7. Do you believe in gay marriage?
sure.where is the harm?
8. What date and time were you born?
pakistan's indepence day.right at 2 in the afternoon .an india-pakistan match was on way!
9. Are your parents still together?
sigh.yes.beats me how!
10. What are you listening to?
"romeo and juliet"
12. The last person to make you cry?
my neighbour's dog.seriously what kind of an imbecile question is this?
13. What is your favourite perfume/cologne?
liked charlie.i am not much of a perfume person.i am happy with deos.
14. What kind of hair/eye colour do you like on the opposite sex?
black or hazel brown.but please oh please nothing other than that.weird hair colour freaks me out.
15. Do you like pain killers?
thankfully i never needed one.*touchwood*
16. Are you too shy to ask someone out?
i am not your coy girl next door,but i never have felt the need to ask anyone out.
17. Fave pizza topping?
i never can tell.others decide for me.
18. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?
chocolate truffle.
19. Who was the last person you made mad?
i tend to make people mad very easily.it is this innate quality i have.every two out of three people get mad at me in every five minutes.go figure!
20. Is anyone in love with you?
nobody loves me.*sniff*sniff*

i tag little boxes and inihos.

okay.so my mind is not exactly working right now.but i can tell i am suddenly missing school after,what,nearly two years?
and its weird.because i really didnt feel a thing after i left it.and except for that ineffable feeling that kind of wrenched within me a couple of times when i was walking past rabindra sadan,i practically lost the attachment with that grey building.or so i thought...
i was never into science or mathematics.who am i kidding,i sucked in maths.big time.the teachers loathed me.and the feeling wasnt unreciprocated.my secondary school life was therefore not exactly eventful.i was an average kid with average grades.
plus two,in that sense,was one helluva roller coaster ride.we were given the classroom in the farthest corner on the topmost floor.and i had some of the happiest days of my life in that classroom.it was probably the geographical positioning of the class,the fact that it was virtually cut off from the rest of the building that intrigued me the most.and i dont know why but uncannily i would keep saying "ekhane kono khun holeo keu jante parbena"
the P.G hospital dormitory was right next to us.and it would be an understatement if i said that the place was stinky.yet,god knows what she got in that stench,our english grammar teacher would listlessly gaze out of the window for all the days she taught us.
the room had a swing door(i am hoping it still has),and i remember precisely how we purposely banged it open everytime we were to pass through it.
and then one fine morning when we were having a free period and the adjacent science section was in the midst of a chemistry class,i started "bam bamming" my heart out until my vociferous "bam bamming" was silenced by the chemistry teacher who demanded the name of that person letting out that queer sound.as to why i suddenly had that overwhelming desire to mimick bambam (of flinstones'fame)on that auspicious morning,i never have been able to figure since.*sigh*
the girl who sat next to me(its weird how i referred to baijayanti as the-girl-who-sat-next-to-me,but then i have my reasons) was a nerd.she still is.it will shake the living daylights out of me if i ever realised that she is no longer one.she was one of those people who studied during lunch breaks,was dishevelled and forgetful in that nerd einstein-ish way.and if you studied her bag,you could have fished out a dry chowmein strand-she was that messy.
and then there was amrita,who most people referred to as 'oxy' after allegedly one girl called her "the oxygen of her life'(incase you are still wondering,yes,our school brought lesbianism to kolkata).anyway,oxy or amrita,whichever way you like it,was one major giggler.she was really happy and content with her life in general,i believe,because she just couldnt stop giggling especially when mrs. saha,our bengali teacher took our class.amrita would giggle away to glory which landed us into major trouble one too many times.but then,mrs. saha was worth laughing at,you'd argue.very true.a lady who married some good many times so much so that we lost count of her husbands after a while,she was definitely a phenomena.but even we kept our humour in check.poor amrita,she never could.and the more exasperated mrs. saha got,the more amrita smirked.and so it would go on till the bell rang and the teacher scurried away in fury.
then ofcourse you had suchi who brought chicken sandwiches to lunch.and i bet half the class was pally with her just to grab a bite from her sandwich!suchi and i fell in and out of love with a zillion people we had never talked to till she hooked up with that radio guy(!!!)and from what i have last heard,she and 'double-d' are still in
lurbh with each other.
there are a zillion other stories i could tell you.about how sanda was madly in love with eating,how our class teacher told us stories about her doctor and how handsome he is and about how the assistant headmistress once called us morons and how the class didnot say a word against it because they didnot know what it meant...but then that would be too long a story.

its weird how i keep listening to one song over and over again whenever i am using the computer.it would keep playing itself and i would gradually get sucked into it...
there is nothing more exhilerating like getting lost in a musical warp.
right now its 'nightswimming' by REM.

I was barely eight when baba started taking me out on trips to places in and around the city. In a few weeks time, it became a ritual. Come Saturday morning and the father daughter duo would set out on journeys that sent me to dizzy heights for the next few days till another Saturday came knocking…
By the time I was ten, I had been to a zillion places and had learnt about a zillion more.
Victoria.check.college street.check.town hall.check.potoldanga check. Marble palace.check.check.check.check…
I had ridden a pony near Victoria. head bobbing, pigtails swinging in utter ecstasy.
I went for plays,ma baba in tow. and being all of eleven twelve I understood little of what was being vociferously delivered on stage. I would even sink back into the seat when the actors were particularly outrageous and even incoherent by my limited-vocabulary-standards!
I had dolefully watched a naked potbellied child being mercilessly beaten by his mother near entally and had cried for days at an end till there was nothing left to mourn for.
And in the process of growing up, these images and a thousand more got firmly entrenched in my memory. Images that soon spread out to form an obscure collage of the city-images held by a meshwork of invisible strings that in due course gave me a notion of the city. My city. A city that gradually became a part of my growing existenceAn indispensable part of me- a part I was so passionately in love with. And still am….
And even though the Saturday sojourns have been long out of practice still feel those strings tugging me. Just as they did some thirteen years back.
The collage has slowly unfurled itself. It's not as obscure as it once was.
With time, the pigtails, the head bobbing, the starry eyes, the puerile prattle all became a thing of past.
The city, too, shed her inhibitions, pushed all the dust and grime underneath the carpet and underwent a stark metamorphosis. A flyover here. A shopping mall there. Some coffee shops and bookstores thrown in between. A this. A that.
tra la la la la..
Someone changed her name from Calcutta to kolkata.and a thousand more faltered with her pronunciation."Kol-koe-tah"."Kalkutta"."Kal kota". The confusion prevailed.
Someone claimed job charnock is not her founder. Someone else denied her birthday. Celebrities swarmed in from all over to cut albums, launch films, and inaugurate music stores. From business tycoons to actors. From politicians to cricketers. The glamour and the glitterati sashayed down lisping the magical words-"kolkata, ami tomay bhalobashi"in broken bangla sending the crowds into absolute frenzy.
"Dada" was chucked out of the 'blue'team. And the city went agog with rage.
"Didi" went on a hunger strike and the entire city went down with her.fretting.praying.fretting.eyes glued to the T.V screen watching her every move.
One fanatic girl got herself married to an abhishek bachchan poster.
Some other was married off to a dog owing to the dearth of an eligible groom.
The crowd oscillated with its random mood swings. Garlands today. Effigies tomorrow. The rage persisted unabated…
The Nobel Prize got stolen. Someone lifted the copyright on rabindrasangeet.poltu and jhontu committed virtual hara-kiri on "gram chhara oi ranga matir poth." in the name of bangla band. The elders shuddered in disapproval. tsk.tsk."Ajkalkar chhelemeyera…" tsk.tsk..
Multinationals infiltrated the local market.flury's replaced jolojog.dominos replaced das cabin.barista, coffee house. McDonalds and c3 ripped off the city's quintessential 'bangaliana'.
TV anchors dressed like BBC correspondents and poised uncomfortably before the camera.plastered smile.hair in place.accented bangla.perfect!
Flyovers conjured bottle necks, the roads inundated twice annually and the potbellied naked children on the roads of panchanantala played gilli danda,oblivious to the changing times.
It rained in winter and grew insanely hot by end of February. Elders shuddered at the prospect of being "victims of global warming".
Lifestyle changed many fold. Commonplace modhyobitto Bengali now holidayed in Goa, Singapore, Malaysia.
'Kaku-kakima' learnt the virtues of surfing the net and sent e-mails to 'babu' in America twice daily!
Uttam suchitra flicks got remade. Teens and tweens crooned to "ei poth jodi na shesh hoi."
Lovers sought recluse in theme parks.families,dadu dida in tow,splashed in aquatica to 'beat the heat'
The angel atop Victoria memorial swung one more time after a long lull only to be put to sleep again.
Maidan was saved finally! The bookfair moved to salt lake. Most sulked sentimentally. People read less and munched more. Someone bought a broom. Someone else got his portrait made.
Baroyari durgotsav got a new edge. One pujo committee had the idol carved out of recyclable stuff. Some one else made a pandal out of biscuits.
Trees were cut down. Ponds got dumped.multistories caressed the skyline. The city became an asphalt jungle.
But in the midst of all cacophony and delirium, the city held onto its intrinsic charm.
And even till this day, the city holds a special position in my heart. And every Saturday it tugs at my strings and beckons me to get lost in its ethereal wilderness…