Three Tail Tales

I have been really intending to write this for a long time now, almost about 3 days to be precise, but procrastination coupled with my supreme lethargy always always wins.
A few days back, as in 3 days back the world celebrated International Dog Day, and, I must confess that I have not come across a single dog, who didn't extend their cushy-paws if I have put my hand in front!
Tommie, an Alsatian, was the first living being I saw that was even smaller in size than I was at the age of 4, and, he, 21 days. I remember seeing him for the first time after returning from school. It is, in my opinion, my first memory, which eventually I have also realised is my first memory of feeling an emotion. Feeling of happiness and joy. The only one younger to me and Priyanka De in the entire house was Tommie. He was our LIVE toy!
Within months, even though younger to us, he outgrew both of us, and then became more a friend than a toy. We would sit around him for hours. We played together. We all got drenched while he was bathed. We checked his plate while we ate and so on. But, with such a built and deafeningly bold bark, he was perceived as intimidating over the actual fun giant that he was. Till date, whenever I remember him, I sincerely wish that all those who were intimidated, could have just gathered a bit more courage to pat his head, and he would have turned into a fur ball in a blink.
But that's all gone alright! I still remember him. He would definitely remain my first and last memory of knowing a living being so closely. He will forever be our first LIVE toy. He shall forever be my lesson to know that love once gone is gone forever.
... After almost a decade, came another love burst with a more docile demeanor. If I ever had a ‘Lethargy Lord’, he shall be the one - Nanu! This beige fur mat barked only when he heard the shriek of the gate in the evening, when my uncle returned home from work. Otherwise, he would never bark, at none. Every vendors, who came to our house couldn't resist petting him for his super-high adorable quotient and a 'patient ear'. Every sabjiwali would talk to him about how difficult it is to charge any less for the vegetables while our grandmom (Dida) would haggle till the last penny. He would look assuringly at everybody speaking to him, resting his face between his paws, rolling from one side to another, faking an alert ear, and then walked away if the conversation tend to be lengthy.
Peace and calm seemed to have gotten their meaning from him. He was so peaceful (read lethargic) that when the house-help came to mop the floor, he didn’t move an inch. He was slided from one spot to another. He was our fur mat on chilly nights. He was our Dida's company to the cow shed every morning. He was our 'Pawed Zen'. He was too quiet to even let us know that while he was walking away into the Sal garden at dusk, wagging his tail, he sought a different world and let the ‘Thunderous Jimmy’ take over.
Jimmy made his way into the verandah through the garden. Almost for about a week, he would come running from nowhere when Dida was in the garden. He would run around, be playful, bark at butterflies and then stare at fallen flowers. For such a lively company, Dida considered it only humane to acknowledge her presence by feeding 2 chapatis and milk. For a week, she would lick the bowl clean and leave, until the day she didn't leave. She stayed. Stayed back and gave birth to 6 adorable beige, black and white buttons. Thunderous as she was, Dida was little apprehensive about going close to her that morning, and I ran to the outhouse where she sat tired and proud. I stood at the door clueless with joy for about a minute and then slowly stepped towards her wondering whether or not to step nearer. As I squat a few meters away, with the slightest ounce of energy left in her, she cubbed each of those button between her jaws and put them in front of me and stared as if to say, ‘here they are’! I took each of those button in my hand and patted them wondering if it was a dream!
Till the last day on earth, if I have to answer whether or not I have experienced heaven on earth. I without a doubt have my answer ready.
To Tommie, Nanu and Jimmie... be wherever you are, be the one you are!

Yuletide Sun

We Bengali use a very culture specific phrase during Durga Puja, 'pujo pujo roddur', which roughly means that the sunshine is very specific to these Pujo days. This statement basically connotes the happy, feel-good vibe prevalent during this period of celebration.

Over the years, I have realised that it's definitely because of the climactic condition during that time of the year and secondly and most importantly, it's because of the state of mind that people are in, which is happy, contentment, easy, and the only expectation and wish people around wish upon you is to have fun and enjoy and live to the fullest; which naturally makes everything and everyone around even more beautiful and happy. 

Similarly, there's a special feel and a sense of happiness and contentment during all the festivals. 

During Christmas, both love and nip in the air pleasantly increase. The only expectation people around have from you is to, eat, drink and be merry. This time of the year is even more special as the year is about to roll its shoe, thus, subtly making one reflect on the time gone by and gearing up to welcome the new year. 

The days and the nights are all about pleasant surprises with Santas running around in every shape and size, that too with a gift for you. The reds and the whites set tone for every cheerful moment and a peaceful gratitude for the same. 

Make this the time to revel in every form of joy, because this time is all about baking, cooking, drinking, eating, smiling and hugging each one around like they deserve it.

Champagne of Tea

I have huge respect for tea-drinkers, who knows their cup of tea to a tee!  The realization that there are sprawling tea gardens and that tea smell little weird than how it actually smells in a cup, came to me quite late in life, when I visited Darjeeling with a gang of 25 relatives, cousins and a dear friend of one of my cousins, who I met for the first and the last time on that trip.

Travelling with a very promising 20+, when I was a decade and a half old and so was the climactic degree of the place, did stir a lot in my cup. The morning dew and mists, evening fog, a veil of cloud suddenly blocking your view as you walk uphill; were the things that made me fall in love with the beauty of the hills more than anyone in the trip. That was the first time I realized what beauty ‘hills’ are!

To live on with this experience, appreciating “tea” was an obvious and organic extension. The most adventurous I can claim myself to be is in matters of tea. My favourite tea places range from Nasir Da’s stall, on whose “lebu-cha” (lemon tea), I have spent my university days, to some of the sprawling and most illustrious tea houses in Bombay. My indulgence in tea has made me taste anything from a paste of Matcha to a porcelain of world's top Single Estates, but the best I have tasted was in the company of that 20 + ‘dear friend of one of my cousins’.

Sitting aimlessly and at peace by the hills, realizing that the sun was going down faster than I could blink, I remember, a deafening silence engulfed the entire region within minutes. One by one, lights of houses downhill went on, the chill in the air started piercing my skin and fragrance of the hills encapsulated my senses as it started drizzling.  

Amidst all this, I vividly remember the bliss I experienced. A warm hug of a person, who I met for the first and the last time on that trip, snuggled a little close to me and gentlypressed my ice cold palms in his and placed my hand on to that steaming hot glass of tea. 

Since then, tea has been as intoxicating to me as a goblet of wine, and where else could I have lived that beautiful moment, other than what is rightly referred to as the Champagne of Tea – Darjeeling. 

'I Wish I Were' A Train!

Childhood - a place we always want to go back to once we are past the time-age boundaries of being called a child. Childhood is like that quick beautiful glimpse that pass by right at the moment it is there; much like the glimpse of the vast open expanse that pass by as we move forward sitting in a train. 

Train - that's what 'I Wish I Were'. Train, the abode that keeps moving forward to embrace the unknown in a rhythmic clatter of chaos and peace. Trains, are the place where strangers exchange greetings, opinions and foods, become friends before never meeting again. Trains gives one the moments to experience oneself within a stipulated time period. Trains allow one to enjoy the comforts of home amidst strangers. 

By being a train I would get to travel across the length and breadth of the country through terrains and topography that changes every hour. Various languages that trains get to hear from millions of passengers everyday, makes it a linguistic institution in itself. The passengers, the vendors and the staffs, each is a unique set, that hop onto this rhythmic movement with a certain objective - to reach a destination, to sell their wares and to approve the passengers' journey.

In this harried world, where everybody tries to be better than the rest, train is the place where everybody wraps themselves in a peaceful cocoon of being and doing what one desires. Read a book, listen music, stare blankly at the world outside or just sleep like a log. Train is a shell that just let you be and thus, be happy. 

Lastly, as a train, you make people believe that journey is as much or more eventful than the destination itself; much like the fact that no matter how much we clutch on to the times gone by, there's no option to stand still until there's a STOP ahead! Trains reinstate the mantra - move forward as you reminisce the past and embrace the unforeseen!

What is the first thing that people notice about you?

It's no secret that I'm a regular on Social Media platforms - from Facebook to Linkedin, from Twitter to Instagram, from Blogspot to Google Plus and Pinterest in between! Did I say, Linkedin? I keep forgetting about it!

Well, then, let it not be a secret that I'm also present on almost all matrimony sites. It might not be a secret, but still giving benefit of doubts. But, the point of concern is, I'm there, just there, but not a regular! No, honestly, I'm not. Seriously, no. I want to be, but I'm not!

It's not because I'm not interested or I'm too busy. I can have as much time I want to, but that shouldn't imply I'm unemployed! I'm paid to stalk people on social media. If not people, brands. My client's competitors.

Coming to the point, I'm not regular on matrimony sites because of the conscious effort that one need to put and look for only a certain type of people - responsible, stable, should not sound funny but should be interesting blah blah.

That pretty much gives away the fact that, give me a specific/certain thing to do - and I lose interest in a blink. Totally. Ask me to wander aimlessly and i will never return! Yes, escapist - that can be said for me!

Now, if you are done with gaining sadistic pleasure by calling me an escapist, the prime reason why I'm not regular on matrimony sites is also because of a weird question that's asked - "What is the first thing that people notice about you?"

Prompt comes my answer: Shouldn't those so called 'People' answer this? How on earth am I suppose to know what 'People' think about me!

But then, not  to make myself sound like a know-it-all or a dimwit or a snob, I answer - May be my height - or the lack of it. OR My weight - because i keep throwing it around - literally - still, I don't lose it!

On giving such answers, I often get remarks like - You are funny!

Believe me, I'm not. But, truth, i think it is!

Stories and Laughter!

14 years back. It was a bright sunny day. I was sitting on the window sill.

Everything looked perfect until the telephone rang. I didn't understand a thing.

Later that day I saw you lying on a weak bed, wearing a white red bordered sari, hair parting smeared with sindur, a bold round laal tip on your forehead.  Like you used to look every evening. Dadu, you and myself sitting on your lap. You looked the same. Just that you were asleep a little too soon. No one tried to wake you up.

That  night, you didn't sleep beside me. You didn't come. You never came.

Now, when i laugh out loud, they say it resemble and sound like your laughter!

If that's true, I will wait a little longer to hear stories from you! 

Cold Noisy Nights! Colder Noisier Days!!

Cold breeze! It's soothing. It brings along a whiff of nostalgia.

It's not cold here in Bombay. 24 Degree Celsius at 2 in the night! It can't be more pleasant.

But it is cold, colder than those January nights when it used to be 3 degree celsius, inside a room. Only a little hole in the window would bring in a shrill thin blow of chilly winds.

Those were cold January nights.Those were cold January noisy nights.

Under 2 blankets, covered from head to toe, feet covered in woolen socks, a scarf tied on the head, ears covered! Still, these sounds crept in, in the middle of the night, under 2 blankets and a scarf.

Whistle of the passing train, a goods train, bapi told me once. It crept in from a distance, blowing whistle at intervals and then while crossing the station, it chugged slowly, but the whistle screamed loud, louder. As if telling the natives the pain of carrying tons of weight. Every night.
It took 2-3 minutes to pass by, the whistle a little mellowed at a distance, slowly but steadily merging into the silence of the dark cold nights.

The silence soon was intervened with rhythmic snores coming from the rooms of the house. Bapi, Chorda, Sejo Kaka, each one had a different rhythm, but maintained their rhythm. Rhythmic rise and fall, in perfect coordination with one another, as if they had planned the pattern at the dinner table! Trying to decipher the rhythm, waiting for a rhythm to rise and another to fall, was a game I indulged in.

Then the watchman came with his whistle, hitting the lathi on concrete road, moving it through the corrugated shutters of the shops, jaagte raho ... all lent a pattern to the soundscape. Everynight meeting of the dogs. At times, they were shooing off a dog from another street, at times a lazy bark, a fun hoof or just a shrill cry in unison, like wolves! A leaking tap in the bathroom, a tip and then a top as it fell into the pool in the bucket kept under it!

Sound of the bell from the nearby temple, and then few more bells. It grew louder and louder...followed by the 'azaan'. These sounds were scary, these cracked the night to the dawn, dawn to the morning, to the moment where Ma would soon knock the door and run down the stairs screaming 'uthe poro', soon followed by the struggle to move out of the blankets, move out of a world which was defined not by vision but by sound!

Those cold nights...warmer than the days today. Those shrill of whistle...softer than the noise that rings in the head today!

Those cold nights. Not as cold as today's.

The woods are lovely, dark, and deep!

I'm not a student, faculty or parent of a student studying at Whistling Woods International. I have been to this institute, because this is one among those few places which welcome film enthusiasts just for the love of Cinema. I remember the first time i visited. An educational institute dedicated to Film, Media and Fashion!

In a country where every second youth aspire to be a part of this industry, how many such institutes do we have? Not many, right! So here, I was in an institute that was catering education in the field, which is growing manifold every passing year. Training, grooming students in subjects that many would wish to study but cannot pursue because of a huge void in terms of educational facilities offered in this sector. Great, so this institute is providing educational support to all media aspirants and enthusiasts, alright. But, the next thing that caught my attention was, how many educational institute with an intent to cater formal education dare to have a motto "Do What You Love"? Needless to say, i was floored and that's the spirit, the vibe i thoroughly enjoyed while in this sprawling campus.

8 years old and their achievements as an educational institute surpass many other institutes' promise to deliver a lot more. The way they operate makes it clear that it's not financial or political support that makes an institute flourish. It's the students, their achievements, their love and support for their institute, a bevy of experts as faculty, hands-on experience on equipments students get, internship with acclaimed media houses, international collaboration for student-teacher exchange program and a lot more.

I have been following the news closely and being a regular on social media platforms, i can very surely say, that such relentless support from far and wide, students speaking for their institute, alumni sharing their experiences, cinema enthusiasts standing by, can only be because of what the institute has done over the years - they have touched lives in some way or the other, they have inspired and nurtured many a creative soul, they must have done a lot more, as it keeps reeling in my head.

My wishes and prayers for you because you have inspired me somewhere, in some way. Keep up the spirit, the flag will fly high in days to come. 

One to Live In? or, The One To Die For - Bombay!

Some days remain etched in memory - Today is one such day. I landed in Mumbai on this date, exactly 4 years back - June 20, 2010.

To think about it, I had no plans to come to Mumbai.. Once here, I had no plans to stay in Mumbai for more than a year, if not less... and today, after 4 years, such a thought looks as distant a dream as visiting Mumbai sitting in a distant insignificant small town in Jharkhand, when i was a child.

Mumbai to me was busy broad well-lit roads, Mumbai was people always on the move, Mumbai was people boarding and alighting running trains, Mumbai was tall buildings, Mumbai was Bollywood, Mumbai was flamboyant, Mumbai was mafia, Mumbai was money, Mumbai was Bombay, Mumbai was a sea-laced city, Mumbai was a dream, which had come true.

A hot humid day, I landed in this city, nervous and slowly finding my way out of the airport, boarded an auto, paid more than double (realized a few days later), went looking for an accommodation to stay, met a long lost friend and extremely tired, retired early for the day while still trying to analyse whether taking this plunge into an unknown, bigger than the sky city would do any good! 

Next day I woke up to a soothing continuous sound of water flow, to figure what it was, I got out of bed and opened the curtains to see a dark, black, cloudy sky pouring like on the whole of earth and since times immemorial this was the only place that it was raining for the first time ever.

The rains continued but Life didn't stop. People were hanging from the window rods of the 'BEST' buses, trains brought in thousands with dripping clothes, children splashing in the puddles with floral or transparent rain coats and passers-by with their trousers folded upto the knee and drenched from head to toe, were on the move with a spirit that can't be defined. This rhythm of rain and Life struck a chord in me, which still rings vibrant and throws hues of colours that has kept me dancing to the tune of this city.

Since then, the city has been a place, which i'm still so mesmerised with that i can't call it a 'Home', but so dear that it's just not a city - the madness, zeal, zest, love cannot be bound by just a name!

Will Sparkle Forever!

A sudden whiff of a strange weird thought. But think of it, it’s some thing that affects each one of us everyday in someway or the other – the sense of Loss – Death. A term that takes away from us something very dear, very familiar.

This struck me very distinctly with the news of Farooque Shaikh passing away. Instant reaction, must be someone I don’t know. A second reaction, how? A third and so on and so forth as news kept coming and confirming that it was this actor, whom we always praised both as an actor and a person, but never spoke of it so verbally as we are doing now. Later, i also thought about his family. What the family must be going through. A healthy, hearty person goes to Dubai for a concert, with his family, and a few days later the family returns without him. It’s scary, incomprehensible.

While mulling over the news, I started to think about him in terms of what he did best and was widely known for, Acting. I distinctly remember watching him first in ‘Katha’, which was aired on Doordarshan. To which, I remember my aunt’s reaction to Farooque Shaikh’s character – ‘issh, erom lok hoyeche keno? Onno shob chobi te ki bhalo bhalo paat kore’ (why is he playing such a character, he is such a nice person in all other films.) She was not liking the fact that Farooque Shaikh, an actor with an established image of a next door, well-behaved neighbour, someone who would never go wrong by principle & choice, was playing such a character. This, I’m saying gauging the impact that reel has on real life.

Taking the point from here, I also thought of many such artists who we have known through our parents; and to sit and reflect back, most of them died in the past 4-5 years. People whom we knew and grew up to only to admire & respect, leaves all of a sudden, and that struck.

There were these set of artists about whom my father would selflessly and forcefully pitch for. They were the icons he grew up with. He, given the bleakest opportunity would praise and show his fondness and respect for Dilip Kumar, Raj Kapoor & Dev Anand over Amitabh Bachchan and Sashi Kapoor, Sachin Dev Burman over Rahul Dev Burman, Md. Rafi & Mukesh over Kishore Kumar and so on and so forth. With progress of time and era, even the lesser preferred artists in the above equation were GOD when compared to the ilk of the modern day artists, who were, the Khans, the Maliks, the Sanus & so on. But, keeping judgement aside, our choice and taste are influenced by the contemporaries, which, as we grow keep changing and evolving to eventually die down.

I’m saying all this because of the number of deaths we have heard in the last five years. We have heard, known and learnt about them from our previous generation, they actually belonged to that generation. Still, we relate to them so much that news of death does leave in us a sense, a realization of irreplaceable, irreparable loss. In that case, how do our parents feel about these losses? What’s the magnitude of void that they experience? How difficult is it for them to hear and accept such news? Do these news create in them a sense of despair and helplessness of having to face an inescapable truth – sooner or later! Do they long to go back to the times when only the characters died but the players evolved successful!

Sooner or later, such a day would dawn on us too. We would wake up to hear that our screen icons are no more. They have left back only reels of memory and would never ever play a character whom we would get a chance to despise or admire. How will we deal with that?

Everything cannot be  put in words, but the best that one can do is to live the moment, ease out, be content, do good and make merry – for Life, is not what you can plan.

Winter Warmth

Cities impact your life. Cultures, people, landmarks affect you for sure; but positively or negatively is how one apprehend it. I personally believe that if one is open to explore the variety that a place has to offer, one cannot really ignore the brilliance of being in a new place and among new people.  Impact of a place is much like, you can hate it or love it, but cannot ignore it. Worry not, if a new city doesn't affect you positively, for if it doesn't now, it surely will when you walk away.

As is said, distance makes you yearn for what has been left behind. Yet again and quite repetitively at that, I am again reminded of a city where I lived for quite a few years and which I would like to believe, helped me evolve and have shaped me as an individual. Shape, literally at that may be!

The breeze flowing with a certain romantic nip in it makes you feel happy, plain happy. The low fogs on the lake or the mighty river just acts as the soft curtain which raises itself with the subtle warm sun hopping in. The afternoons spent lying on the vast sheet of greenery, dotted with ponnies, sprinkled with the sweet aroma of oranges and a comfort quilt with friends around will surely not make you regret an ounce of missing out on anything lavish, for there can’t be anything as lavish and extraordinaire than this moment, if, you are living in and living it up.

Soaking in the brilliant glow of the angel’s face above that architectural grandeur you are reminded of a mere human existence. Just then, it’s best to walk in to the chapel which emancipates the hue even more wonderfully with the rainbow colored window panes. The soft hymns reverberate through your senses and you believe that if there’s a thing worth living, it’s this. While meandering through the alleys which stand as a witness to the great Victorian era, you bite into a lavish western breakfast and sip into the aromatic tea of the great land you reside in.

In the evening, when the air smells of sweet perfumes and people dressed in their generously elaborate woolens walk down the path, the welcoming gesture of the city’s glow resembles that perfect hue of being shy of a beauty walking with the love of her life. Red, golden and silver strips of lights washing down the dirt and murk of an otherwise unnoticed life, the city awaits a gentle kiss on its cheek to re-emphasize the fact that one can live years and wait with a bated breath to get a glimpse of this beautiful, sweet and romantic lady glow in its cordial warmth.

To You,

With Love. 

Celebration of Life

...and an year rolled by, to welcome The Lady yet again. She waits as eagerly to visit her paternal home as much her annual arrival is awaited here. To welcome her, the sun awaits the tuneful blow of the conch shell collected from the deepest water and then the day breaks to give life a new definition with refined love, togetherness, peace and a heart full of celebration in all its forms.

... and yet another year passes by, when the beautiful city will stand elegant like a princess dressed in all her finery. Her natives from far and wide will lay bare in her motherly lap and  get their soul rekindled with love, fun and madness. Merriment will be observed and ensured in all its form everywhere, but somewhere faraway, on this beautiful mother, the sun will glow a bit more brightly and will shower an ounce of warmth more.

... and then, a certain patch of the lively soul somewhere, will yearn for a bit more of the aroma of dhunuchi, phul and dhup that mix seamlessly to create a heavenly atmosphere which will further transcend with the chants during the pushpanjali. The ever enticing smell of the wicked chatim will fill the air to add a bit more charm of fun to the whole atmosphere. The alert ears will miss a beat on the dhaak and the conch blow.

The mind will wander away a bit to step in the lanes of South Calcutta and the galore of North Calcutta. The heart will miss a few more companion's silly banter, loud laughter and an extra step to the Maddox Square.  The harried dress-up session at 95, Southern Avenue will be less harried with one less in blocking the mirror. The boisterous souls at Golpark, Kasba or Chetla will be met from a slight distance and finally the nightly treads to Gariahat, Lake Road, Bhowanipore will have a company less till another dawn breaks till the next.

... and till then the festivity will be observed with full mirth and undiminished enthusiasm for nothing can possibly alter the spirit of presence of the Goddess on Earth.

VIBGYOR

Holi from my childhood days are something i envy today, needless to mention there are a line up of many miore such days.

On this day then i used to wake up early in the morning and hunted out that old and withered frilled white frock. Morning was about gulping some interesting breakfast. Soon after, i used to run down to the "laal-bari" to join my cousins for the occassion. All gathered with our choice of colors, splashes of colors on the frock, all merry and tireless, the morning went in a jiffy. Evenings were equally interesting with parents joining the gang with "abir". Abir smelt air and the evening sky colored looked brighter with the brightest of colors.

Years went by and the days changed, went to Hazaribagh.  Celebration was equally exciting but lacked the grandeur. Absence of 9 cousins to play Holi with, the number came down to 1, and i still remember something from those days. A mean gesture rather. Amidst examinations, I was sitting sad. He came up with his palms painted in green and smeared the color on my face from behind, pissed, i didnt enjoy it. I went crazy and  screamed at him, went and washed my face rite away...i still regret that behaviour of mine. With an opportunity anytime in future, i would take it all in mirth. Promise :)

Then days were brighter and the boundaries opened beyond the gathering of 9 cousins. I was a hosteller at the Banaras Hindhu University. Hundreds of girls of more or less the same age..but that's the age where people are serious about their being seniors and juniors than any other thing under the sun, but Holi was one leveler. On this day there were no restrictions and orders took a back seat. The water reservoir under the fountain was filled with water and the color of the water changed in seconds, after playing colors for hours, amidst the examination months, we were treated with special lunch. It was fun..Undoubtedly

Years older. Jadavpur University. Not much to be said, but colors were played more on the day before the occassion than on the day.

Since then, only a year or two, i celebrated Holi, but honestly not as heartily. Sometime later, it was on Holi, i.went to a friend's place, while returning a girl on the road sprayed color on me, i was more than happy, i was reminded of my frilled frocks.

Then, Days started shedding off colors. Nevertheless, with all fun and memories, this day brings in a sign of hope, a dream of coloring the world in our own bright way.

HAPPY HOLI.. :)

Sloshed Rhythm

A pencil in hand
after years swept in sand
not much to moan
neither much left in hand.

Friends around
talking over bottles of rum;
about times to come
and of the by-gone.

A bit sleepy
at the dawn break,
darkened hours though;
unfolds a brighter day

By the sea, i sit and sing
of hopes and wishes
and dreams of colorful days.

Trigger Dream

Disclaimer: Romantic overdose, incoherence, displaced emotions, urge to express certain nonsense and all possible meaningless questions! Read at your own risk. ;-)

for lack of better pictorial representation, but nothing beats this.. :)

When the moon descends with its silver veil

To the shimmering puddles on the lake

Will you sit by my side to say?

Life’s nothing but a golden deck!

Will you take my hand into yours?

Will you promise a life long sail?

Through the crest and troughs in the years ahead!

Without Music Life would be a Mistake. - Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche

Otherwise a restless person, I have observed that i can stick to only one thing and spend hours. 

It washes away the dust of mundaneness,
It soothes the madness,
It elates the feeling of Feeling Good,
It erases the lows,
It establishes the point of "Change" and 'Constant" in the sweetest possible way,
It teaches me to take as It comes,
It negates the malice,
It helps me to laugh when i feel so,
It encourages me to cry if something feels dry.
and
It gives me a High
and gives me reasons enough to Live my Life.

"Without certain things, life wouldn't have been what it is.
Precious of them all is what we call Music!"

As weird as it can get! A weird thought passed my mind today.

Which is more scary and difficult to survive!

Running amidst a blazen forest or

jumping into a whirlpool from a height?

just as intense the thought was, i needed a smoke to relax.

Hungry and sleepy a bit
Helped myself with a packet of Maggi
and a mug of coffee in my fist

Set with plate, mug and fork
i sat on the bed
and read while waiting for the stuff
to cool to taste

Reading the last line of an engrossing paragraph,
I saw two red ants running over the page.
Fingerpede (if that is a word) it and saw two more,
and then came running, a few more.

To check the scene i picked up the plate

and saw them running with an attacking gaze!

some swimming in the coffee, some burning in the heat
they had taken up the bed and i felt a red swollen itch.

The question suddenly changed!
which is more scary?!
to eat ant littered food or sleep with them!
and bam intruded the Reality check!

So to conclude:
Life addressed as Dude,
you think i am unaware of the fact that i am one of your prey?!

you attack me in situations where worst expected!

to top it all

Your friend, Destiny, never ever showed me its pretty face

A request if i do!

I know i am whacky in my own little way

but can you please stop poking so hard to say?!

My energy and enthusiasm

matches my bank balance

so i cannot give in much effort to strike on your ugly looking face

but pounce back i will, for sure

tommorrow or day after whenever i conjure.

Warm Fragrance

Fragrance of winter winds, moisturisers, of those packed woollens..like those napthalene balls lending the woollens their warmth, the fragrance of warmth, of closeness, of nearness, of love that keeps life going in the otherwise chill.

The onset of winter with its characterised morning sun invading the warm intimacies of  lip-locked lovers in arms....and the day rolls in.


The winter afternoon with its warm touch..like someone standing by you, holding your hand, assuring you the pleasure of togetherness and with the clock ticking toward the day's end, the fading sun caressing smoothly like lovers walking down a sun-washed alley to part for the day before their next meet, with a gentle kiss stamping their departure and a gentle touch holding a promise to meet soon....and the sun rolls down...

Blisss..phhhh

Blissful

Drinking to the tee…drinking like never before and like there’s no tomorrow and enjoying it to the core as always. With ever increasing waist line and then as any sane person would do, blowing up the rest of the meager earned honey called money in shopping.

Not so Blissful

Other activities largely comprises of watching movies...Bollywood Loyalist...you see... no matter how much I crib and cry after watching those shit-spattered on the screen, my Fridays remain incomplete without having gone through that shit splash once a week. You despise me...I DO NOT give a DAMN.

Falling in love with the sea over and over again is not something that I can get over with in this life at least. Bombay looks good with its scorching sun in November and the awkward November Rains.

 Lovingggggg It.. J

Where From and Where To !!

The 'Notion' of "Pujo-Merriment" ends for this year. The last four days were spent amidst certain issues that worried me, certain gathering where i laughed to welcome the dawn and certain incidents that got etched in those dark memory chambers. 'Pleasurable' it was in its own way. Amidst friends and laughter many were remembered and missed till the dream of a faraway bejeweled city trampled the silence of the night. 'She' leaving for abode wrenches my heart even today. Logical explanation strongly proclaims that the 'reason to leave' is to 'return soon'. The idols with which i shared my deepest secrets and to whom i murmured my prayers will again sink in the murkiness of the monotonous fight to Survive.

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I again read Love Story, Heidi and Jungle Book. This time while i held these books and moved my eyes through the soft words,  the greyness of aging or the speed of raging towards an uncertain future stared hard. The glaring truth of having strained relationship with 'Innocence' and leaving the sense of excitement of being able to relate with the protagonists far behind, posed question about why can't these pieces be enjoyed with the same enthusiasm as was possible ten or fifteen years back?! As an answer I will go back to keep these books in my school library, where i got acquainted with the most enjoyable music of life... 'the hushed humming of my classmates' and then will go and stand by the side of the lake where the setting sun imparts the most vibrant hue to welcome the bright moon and the twinkling stars. I will leave these books on the grass by that lake where open eyed dreams knew what a soul mate is.

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Twelve years: left Daltonganj. A small, uncivilized, barbaric town in Jharkhand. Yes, the adjectives perfectly define the place, but sadly not as per my belief. How can I?! The hot afternoon loo taught me that 'unbearable' is just a word, everything has a soothing presence about itself. Had it not been so hot, could i have ever known what fun it was to sit with cousins and play tell-a-tale under the staircase! The chilly winter breeze silenced me with its gift when questioned about its pinch on the bare skin. It whispered in my ear that had it been not the way it is,how would i have enjoyed the bliss of those morning dew. The swelled up river Koel never stood by me and always encouraged me to flow along with.

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