Have you ever begged for something...begged out of your own possessiveness...out of your own desire...out of compulsion of your own emotions...begged to make yourself wanted? have you ever begged helplessly...begged for something which you will never get? do you feel stuck...have you ever cried? felt alone? coiled inside yourself? wanted to speak but didnt have the right words? wanted someone to understand you..the you inside? wanted to hold that hand which was never yours...wanted to reach out but there was emptyness all around...?
where do these thoughts come from? why do we think? I picked up my phone again...thousands of names in the call list...hundreds of texts that filled my inbox...but there was hardly anyone whom I could call...I screamed inside the empty room...the mirrors reflected my helpless insanity...the marble floors wet with unreasonable tears...the room looks blurred now...its almost end of another day...like everyday...
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Saturday, November 7, 2009
There are somedays, when you feel blank...there's a strange kind of emptyness inside..and its kind of stubborn like me...i dont know...have i lost something?
I have a presentation on Monday...Right now I'm supposed to work on online help and usability ...but as usual I end up posting silly stuff...
I'm really curious that who reads my posts? Do they really understand what I want to say? Does it really matter? My narcissm is getting hold of me again...I'm going through my blog...sulk written all over...
Monday I will be in that room..giant screens...white boards...fat markers...the rectangular table...my colleagues with their questioning glances, busy taking down notes...and me standing on one end of the room...alone... trying to prove myself desperately...what am i trying to prove?
Please do not post your comments for this one...its just one of my weird vent out posts....Guess I'll delete it soon...
Sunday, November 1, 2009
...
"We used to walk down by the river
She loved to watch the sun go down
We used to walk along the river
And dream our way out of this town
No one understood what I felt for Mary
No one cared until the night, she went out walkin all alone
And never came home..."
Hazard-Richard Marx
Its almost evening.. pale twilight sneaks into my room...music continues...My bed neatly done...pages of an unread book aimlessly flutters...The mirror with wooden frames reflects the last rays of sunset...The grey shadows kiss the dark walls...
The sky drenched in amber...birds on their way home... shops well lit...street lights glittered, though it was not yet dark...The air had a strange fragrance...it smelled of evening...the crowded streets looked empty...cars moved monotonously on the tarred stetch ahead...Far across the tall highrises blinked in the evening light... crisp air, rusty street lights and a cold evening, draped the city...
She loved to watch the sun go down
We used to walk along the river
And dream our way out of this town
No one understood what I felt for Mary
No one cared until the night, she went out walkin all alone
And never came home..."
Hazard-Richard Marx
Its almost evening.. pale twilight sneaks into my room...music continues...My bed neatly done...pages of an unread book aimlessly flutters...The mirror with wooden frames reflects the last rays of sunset...The grey shadows kiss the dark walls...
The sky drenched in amber...birds on their way home... shops well lit...street lights glittered, though it was not yet dark...The air had a strange fragrance...it smelled of evening...the crowded streets looked empty...cars moved monotonously on the tarred stetch ahead...Far across the tall highrises blinked in the evening light... crisp air, rusty street lights and a cold evening, draped the city...
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Ramblings...
Its almost midnight...I'm home...Pink walls..lampshades...mirrors...Music as usual...
My gtalk blinks with irrelevant unwanted messages..."Instablogs:Latest News"..."Best Forwards of the Year"..."Date with Kylie Minogue"...
I wanted a lazy Saturday ...But I was out for almost the entire day...My day started with usual coffee... mailbox...music...resolutions to clean my room and not living up to it...
930 am...North Calcutta with baba: The cab made its way through the bylanes and cobwebbed alleys...Red brickwalls...narrow lanes... porticos...the colonial hangover... the vintage smell...North Calcutta was waking up to a bright sunny Saturday...Smell of tea wafted from the streets...
An occasional halt near College Street- the hub of quintessential book lover and bearded antels... It took its turn around Shovabazaar... amidst snazzy hoardings Shovabazaar still retained the charm of its palatial mansions...Passed through Boubazaar lined with the jewellery shops ...noted for their exquisite craftsmanship...And finally crossed Surya Sen Street with its ever crowded Putiram that reminds me of my college days and my regular excursions to Boi para...
The grand old Medical College on one end of the road has special memories for me...I often came here with Maa...I was a kid back then when Ma pointed out to a staircase in Medical College and said..."Oi dekh...oikhane Saptapadi-r shooting hoechilo"...I watched Saptapadi much later... The movie still reminds me of that staircase...
My cab got stuck near Amherst Street...Amherst Street and Mahatma Gandhi Road is lined with surma and band party shops... Mehboob...Roshan ... famous band parties of yesteryears... these musical groups clad in the brightest of colors--red , green, orange, performed in various social gatherings back in 18th and 19th century... However with music systems flooding the market, the melodious memories of the band party are almost extinct...Their dusty old drums, trumpets, saxophones, clarinets still echoes the musical melodies of "Le Jayengey Le Jayengey...dilwale dulhaniya le jayenge" or "Meri Pyari Bahenia banegi dulhania"...
Baba stayed in a rented apartment in College Street during the 70s...He showed me the buildings, streets, sweet shops he frequented...Nostalgia had draped us all over...
I came back home...I got a haircut today though it looks almost the same...
Around 4...I headed for Esplanade...Located in the hub of Calcutta, Esplanade still manages to reflect the ancient charm... The Cottage Industry building and the palatial Oberoi Grand overlooks the city's busiest area... During the days of Warren Hastings, Esplanade was considered as the promenade for ‘elegant walking parties’.
From Dostoevsky's Idiot to Nike shoes to Kashmiri shawls to ornate photoalbums, Esplanade is the hub of all confused tourists, aimless travelers and the shopaholics....
Years back when I was a kid I walked through these streets tagged along with my folks...We went to New market quite often...I still remember the name of a shop called Strawberry...My fashion statement in those years was largely dominated by this brand...
My sister was a cricket fanatic those days...Whenever the huge tourist bus carrying the cricketers stood in front of Oberoi Grand...she jostled with the crowd to get one glimpse of Imran Khan or Viv Richards...I joined her too...I pushed the crowd...tried to make way for her...But back then I really had no clue about Imran Khan or cricket!
During my college years I used to visit Esplanade during film festivals for that quick matinee show in Globe or New Empire....
It was evening in Esplanade...The sepia toned streets in front of Oberoi stretched towards the flyover... lined with usual cabs, busy pedestrians and cars...I hopped into one of the them..."Camac Street jaben dada?"
I do not have any memories about Camac Street...I never knew about Camac Street before college...I discovered Pantaloons and West Side much later in my life...However Coffee Pai in Camac Street was one of my favorite place...They made a special coffee with brownie, cookies and ice cream...
I dont like Camac Street much...The smell of Paw Bhaji, Bhelpuri and pop corns, somehow adds to my disgust...and may be the crowd...it makes me claustrophobic...
My day ends with Forum Elgin Road...A snazzy shopping mall in the heart of the metropolis... The MAC counter with glamorous sales personnel...The Burberry perfume counter eagerly waiting for your response, "Perfumes Ma'm"...Lakme counter promise that perfect make over for you...Shopper's Stop ...airconditioned...moderately crowded...Levis mannequins posed to perfection...The line of eateries in Burpp which exudes a strange smell...Its a combination of Dosa meets Kebab meets Manchurian...
Its 830....I'm walking out of Forum...My day almost ends here..I'm feeling sleepy...
I'm back home...had dinner....and my regular dose of reality tv...And yet another day ends amidst memories and moments...
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
...
And then it was November... the crisp autmn wind kissed her face and stray strands of brown hair... She was walking down the empty street...busy creating a collage... a collage of images... reflections..
She loves this time of the day.... she ponders over every little conversation, moments, time that passed by... words that she loved... moments she wished she could wipe away...moments that she will cherish forever...
The image of the overdressed woman in the elevator...screaming managers... the shy new entrant... the glass highrise... the sound of the keyboard... chat windows...messages...phone calls...lunch boxes... onsite, offshore, promotions...projects..clients...headfones with the same music over n over again... restroom gossip...smiles... glances...
It was just a few minutes back...she was a part of all this... and now she is on her way home.. dust kissed shoes... smell of wild flowers...unfinished concrete structures... she was alone...away from the usual histrionics...
Yet another day ends in her life... another collage of innumerable images and reflections ...another walk down this road... she looks back... the overbearing highrise stands far behind in the middle of nowhere...
Theres an emptyness all around...theres a void deep inside... wish she could give words to it...
"I rent a room and I fill the spaces with
wood in places to make it feel like home
but all I feel's alone...
It might be a quarter life crisis or just the stirring in my soul
Either way, I wonder sometimes
about the outcome
of a still verdictless life"
Thursday, October 15, 2009
...
Office looks dull and empty...my cubicle is deserted...The skyline looks beautiful from this 10th floor highrise...I'm sipping the tasteless coffee... the usual sounds of the keyboard around...
I unlocked my treasure chamber today...It makes a weird screeching sound everytime...Guess its old like me...
A boquet of white flowers gently stacked inside... the flowers have almost withered... the white petals have turned pale with time...the leaves almost yellow and crisp...the white satin ribbons that carefully wrapped the roses looked greyish...I look at them often... I touched them like everyday...White roses from Scarbrique... a small town somewhere in Europe...
A boquet of white roses....Roses that smelt of lonely nights,teardrops, love and longing...it smelt of moments that were lost long back in the passage of time...it smelt of moonlit nights on a deserted beach...of footprints washed away by the waves of time...moments treasured...moments of eternal wait...moments of an inevitable end...
The girl who sits in my cubicle received these flowers a month back from a far away friend...She never took them home... She stacked them in my cupboard...
I don't really know how it feels when someone sends you flowers.... but these white roses will be special always...
I unlocked my treasure chamber today...It makes a weird screeching sound everytime...Guess its old like me...
A boquet of white flowers gently stacked inside... the flowers have almost withered... the white petals have turned pale with time...the leaves almost yellow and crisp...the white satin ribbons that carefully wrapped the roses looked greyish...I look at them often... I touched them like everyday...White roses from Scarbrique... a small town somewhere in Europe...
A boquet of white roses....Roses that smelt of lonely nights,teardrops, love and longing...it smelt of moments that were lost long back in the passage of time...it smelt of moonlit nights on a deserted beach...of footprints washed away by the waves of time...moments treasured...moments of eternal wait...moments of an inevitable end...
The girl who sits in my cubicle received these flowers a month back from a far away friend...She never took them home... She stacked them in my cupboard...
I don't really know how it feels when someone sends you flowers.... but these white roses will be special always...
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Fair n lovely
"Mirror, Mirror on the wall...who' s the fairest of them all?" the mirror replied: "You, my queen, are fairest of all"---
Rini stood under the shower... Water dripped from her face washing the traces of eyeliner that kissed her pan caked face... Her heavy Bangalore silk lay crumpled on the floor... The black satin petticoat was thrown on the bed...Rini had tried her best...She had put on a layer of compact on her dusky skin to make it fairer...She had worn the puffed blouse to make her look more fuller and the high snazzy stilletos to make her more taller...
They carefully scrutinized Rini...They whispered in front of her..."Ektu Kalo"... They checked her petite structure: "Boddyo Roga"..."Sareetai bhalo..."
As they left Rini stood in front of the mirror...she looked at her face for the last time... The mirror seemed to laugh at her imperfections... the make up, the grime, the dirt had covered her face... the drops of black tears left their impression on her dusky skin... Her smudged eyes bore the pain of rejection...
She screamed:"Mirror, Mirror on the wall...who' s the fairest of them all?" the mirror never replied...
Friday, September 11, 2009
American Pie
Anasua Sen looked outside the glass window... She looked almost like her...
Manhattan looked beautiful in autmn...The warm rays of the setting sun glittered on the Hudson waterbed... Busy New Yorkers returned to their homes...The Hudson River Park looked beautiful during the fall... Draped in fiery red and orange it is visited by colorful residents as well as their avian friends... Far beyond, the tall skyscrappers kissed the November sky...
Anasua Sen was a Saggitarian... Her father was a history teacher in the local school and her mother a homemaker... First time it was from Baba she heard about America...
America the land of rich, famous and successful...America the land of glitter and sunshine...From her distant cousin Tublu to her neighbor's handsome brother in law all had headed for the West back then...People basked in the glory of their NRI sons and daughters...
Anasua grew up listening to George Michael, Elvis, watching Clint Eastwood, reading Sidney Sheldon... Her favorite subject was American Literature... During her graduation days most of her friends had left for US---GRE, TOEFL, job offers, NRI husbands....
She had an arranged marriage... An arranged 'NRI' marriage.. It started with the usual grilling session... Her parents carefully selected the prospective grooms... Rejection was quite common and expected--Astrological equations featured as the number one rejection criteria... Saturn, moon, sun, mercury all needs to be perfect before the grand Bong wedding...
Anu dressed up everytime..Anu expected everytime...Sarees, bindis, kajal, polished nails, blush on...and she was made to sit before them...From Pickwick Papers to Pabda Shorshe, Hater Kaaj to height... The discussions were endless as the would be grooms and their entourage minutely intersected her...
But Srijit's family was a bit different... Srijit tall, handsome and extremely submissive worked as a software professional in Manhattan...The families liked each other... They married in October... Anu on her wedding night dreamt of Times Square as they made love for the first time...
A week later Anu took the flight to US... At the airport all the teary eyed relatives bid farewell to Anu... As Anu waved her hand from the far end of the busy airport terminal, her father's eyes glittered overbrimmed with moist memories...
Srijit lived in Washington Heights in Manhattan...His apartment was not typically what Anu had dreamt of.. It was a messy studio apartment in Washington Heights... The neighborhood was not quite over friendly...
Srijit was unusually quiet for the first few days...Most of the time, he preferred to stay out of home... Anu felt strange...Everytime Srijit said it was office, work pressure...
It was around 3 months, and after much persuasion, he agreed to take Anu for sightseeing that weekend... Their day started with Empire State Building.. she had heard about this building from Baba, long back when she was a kid... She had asked "Baba ota ki Ranu Pishir barir thekeo boro?"...Her father laughed at her curious innocence... "Dhur boka, Ranu Pishi to chartolay thake!"
Srijit took her to Central Park that day... they visited the grand Belvedre Castle that overlooked the Delacorte... They enjoyed an open air performance at the Delacorte with the Turtle Pond at the backdrop... It was evening, the air was crisp... Anu snuggled in Srijit's arms...but he still seemed lost...
In the evening they reached the glitzy Times Square... The glamor wrapped theater district of the city, draped in neons, giant billboards, snazzy lights... She told Srijit: "Amader Park Street er moton tai na"...Srijit smirked... Anu laughed at her own innocence...
Anu missed home some days... She called up Baba... Her innocent excitement, her loneliness, touched the heart of Mr. Sen, sitting miles away from Manhattan..."Bhalo achis to maa?" was all he could manage to say...
Anu did the grocery, cooking and cleansing... Srijit told her not to explore the area, as it was quite unsafe... Sri used to be out for most of the days and often nights... Overtime at office...His job was quite hectic...
There were days and weeks when he hardly spoke to Anu.. At home he kept to himself... Anu shouted, screamed cried and at the end teary eyed and helplessly lost, she coiled on one end of the bed... She dreamt of home...
Anu sent picture postcards and letters to her family back in Calcutta... She scribbled li'l tit bits on their back...Pictures of Empire State Building, Times Square, Statue of Liberty, cruise photos... Her Baba proudly displayed them to the curious relatives...boasted about Anu's fast lifestyle in US...."Ekhaner moton akdom na" was something they all agreed in unison...
America was truly beautiful.. Glitz, glamor, fast lifestyle, snazzy shopping malls... But Anu was not allowed to step out of the house... There were days when Sri did not go to office... He spent the whole day at home...
Srijit's behavior was strange... He did not allow Anu to leave the house....He was often suspicious, violent and had strange withdrawal symptoms... There were nights when Anu saw the man fully awake and staring at her...There were days when Anu got beaten up...
Anu was scared... Anu felt terribly alone ...Anu called her in laws in Calcutta after 8 months...
Srijit Sengupta was the eldest son of Rajani Sengupta... His father had retired from a clerical job... Srijit had completed his diploma in Computer Science and with the help of an uncle he had headed for the West in search of a job ... He wanted to make it big...The West had lured him like everyone else... Srijit for a first few months worked as a car mechanic, contractual labor, security guard at some skincare company and so on... He was desperate to get a good job but he failed to do so...Back home, the parents unknowingly boasted about their son... Srijit hated to reveal the truth to his folks... He loved this false glory...However his anxieties overpowered his false fantasies...
Srijit came back home during a vacation.. His condition had worsened...He had withdrawn himself into a shell... The doctor back in India diagnosed it as Schizophrenia.... The family astrologer prescribed "a good marriage" as the only way out... Srijit was married to Anu...
It was November... Anu had already applied for a divorce...Their relationship had reached its fag end... Anu had to come back...Her big American dream had died a sudden death...
She sipped her Christmas blend Starbucks coffee for one last time...That evening she went to Times Square... Thousands of people, snazzy neons, glamor and glitter all over... But Anu felt cold and terribly alone....There were strangers all around.. Strangers who were busy...strangers who were a part of this glamor and glitter and strangers who made her realize her isolation every moment...
She clicked pictures beside the neon lit billboards in Times Square that night...The crisp autmn wind was cold... It was her last night in Manhattan...
Its been 3 years or more...Anu works in the US Embassy in Calcutta... She works in the Verfication Department... Everyday she gets to meet a number of newly married NRI women who have applied for their Visas... Their eyes full of expectations and excitement... Innocence smudged in their vermillion smeared forehead...
Srijit Sengupta is in an asylum in Calcutta... He still dreams of becoming an NRI software bigshot...Anu got her divorce, a year back.... Next vacation she has planned to take her parents to Mussoorie... Mississipi does not haunt Anu in her dreams anymore...
But there are some autmn nights when Anu looks at the secretly treasured Times Square photographs... Anu relives that autmn evening, the neons and the glitter, the smell of perfume, black tuxedos, sexy stilettoes, Starbucks coffee... She looks out of her rented apartment in Behala...
The autmn sky looks different... The wind is crisp yet warm...
Manhattan looked beautiful in autmn...The warm rays of the setting sun glittered on the Hudson waterbed... Busy New Yorkers returned to their homes...The Hudson River Park looked beautiful during the fall... Draped in fiery red and orange it is visited by colorful residents as well as their avian friends... Far beyond, the tall skyscrappers kissed the November sky...
Anasua Sen was a Saggitarian... Her father was a history teacher in the local school and her mother a homemaker... First time it was from Baba she heard about America...
America the land of rich, famous and successful...America the land of glitter and sunshine...From her distant cousin Tublu to her neighbor's handsome brother in law all had headed for the West back then...People basked in the glory of their NRI sons and daughters...
Anasua grew up listening to George Michael, Elvis, watching Clint Eastwood, reading Sidney Sheldon... Her favorite subject was American Literature... During her graduation days most of her friends had left for US---GRE, TOEFL, job offers, NRI husbands....
She had an arranged marriage... An arranged 'NRI' marriage.. It started with the usual grilling session... Her parents carefully selected the prospective grooms... Rejection was quite common and expected--Astrological equations featured as the number one rejection criteria... Saturn, moon, sun, mercury all needs to be perfect before the grand Bong wedding...
Anu dressed up everytime..Anu expected everytime...Sarees, bindis, kajal, polished nails, blush on...and she was made to sit before them...From Pickwick Papers to Pabda Shorshe, Hater Kaaj to height... The discussions were endless as the would be grooms and their entourage minutely intersected her...
But Srijit's family was a bit different... Srijit tall, handsome and extremely submissive worked as a software professional in Manhattan...The families liked each other... They married in October... Anu on her wedding night dreamt of Times Square as they made love for the first time...
A week later Anu took the flight to US... At the airport all the teary eyed relatives bid farewell to Anu... As Anu waved her hand from the far end of the busy airport terminal, her father's eyes glittered overbrimmed with moist memories...
Srijit lived in Washington Heights in Manhattan...His apartment was not typically what Anu had dreamt of.. It was a messy studio apartment in Washington Heights... The neighborhood was not quite over friendly...
Srijit was unusually quiet for the first few days...Most of the time, he preferred to stay out of home... Anu felt strange...Everytime Srijit said it was office, work pressure...
It was around 3 months, and after much persuasion, he agreed to take Anu for sightseeing that weekend... Their day started with Empire State Building.. she had heard about this building from Baba, long back when she was a kid... She had asked "Baba ota ki Ranu Pishir barir thekeo boro?"...Her father laughed at her curious innocence... "Dhur boka, Ranu Pishi to chartolay thake!"
Srijit took her to Central Park that day... they visited the grand Belvedre Castle that overlooked the Delacorte... They enjoyed an open air performance at the Delacorte with the Turtle Pond at the backdrop... It was evening, the air was crisp... Anu snuggled in Srijit's arms...but he still seemed lost...
In the evening they reached the glitzy Times Square... The glamor wrapped theater district of the city, draped in neons, giant billboards, snazzy lights... She told Srijit: "Amader Park Street er moton tai na"...Srijit smirked... Anu laughed at her own innocence...
Anu missed home some days... She called up Baba... Her innocent excitement, her loneliness, touched the heart of Mr. Sen, sitting miles away from Manhattan..."Bhalo achis to maa?" was all he could manage to say...
Anu did the grocery, cooking and cleansing... Srijit told her not to explore the area, as it was quite unsafe... Sri used to be out for most of the days and often nights... Overtime at office...His job was quite hectic...
There were days and weeks when he hardly spoke to Anu.. At home he kept to himself... Anu shouted, screamed cried and at the end teary eyed and helplessly lost, she coiled on one end of the bed... She dreamt of home...
Anu sent picture postcards and letters to her family back in Calcutta... She scribbled li'l tit bits on their back...Pictures of Empire State Building, Times Square, Statue of Liberty, cruise photos... Her Baba proudly displayed them to the curious relatives...boasted about Anu's fast lifestyle in US...."Ekhaner moton akdom na" was something they all agreed in unison...
America was truly beautiful.. Glitz, glamor, fast lifestyle, snazzy shopping malls... But Anu was not allowed to step out of the house... There were days when Sri did not go to office... He spent the whole day at home...
Srijit's behavior was strange... He did not allow Anu to leave the house....He was often suspicious, violent and had strange withdrawal symptoms... There were nights when Anu saw the man fully awake and staring at her...There were days when Anu got beaten up...
Anu was scared... Anu felt terribly alone ...Anu called her in laws in Calcutta after 8 months...
Srijit Sengupta was the eldest son of Rajani Sengupta... His father had retired from a clerical job... Srijit had completed his diploma in Computer Science and with the help of an uncle he had headed for the West in search of a job ... He wanted to make it big...The West had lured him like everyone else... Srijit for a first few months worked as a car mechanic, contractual labor, security guard at some skincare company and so on... He was desperate to get a good job but he failed to do so...Back home, the parents unknowingly boasted about their son... Srijit hated to reveal the truth to his folks... He loved this false glory...However his anxieties overpowered his false fantasies...
Srijit came back home during a vacation.. His condition had worsened...He had withdrawn himself into a shell... The doctor back in India diagnosed it as Schizophrenia.... The family astrologer prescribed "a good marriage" as the only way out... Srijit was married to Anu...
It was November... Anu had already applied for a divorce...Their relationship had reached its fag end... Anu had to come back...Her big American dream had died a sudden death...
She sipped her Christmas blend Starbucks coffee for one last time...That evening she went to Times Square... Thousands of people, snazzy neons, glamor and glitter all over... But Anu felt cold and terribly alone....There were strangers all around.. Strangers who were busy...strangers who were a part of this glamor and glitter and strangers who made her realize her isolation every moment...
She clicked pictures beside the neon lit billboards in Times Square that night...The crisp autmn wind was cold... It was her last night in Manhattan...
Its been 3 years or more...Anu works in the US Embassy in Calcutta... She works in the Verfication Department... Everyday she gets to meet a number of newly married NRI women who have applied for their Visas... Their eyes full of expectations and excitement... Innocence smudged in their vermillion smeared forehead...
Srijit Sengupta is in an asylum in Calcutta... He still dreams of becoming an NRI software bigshot...Anu got her divorce, a year back.... Next vacation she has planned to take her parents to Mussoorie... Mississipi does not haunt Anu in her dreams anymore...
But there are some autmn nights when Anu looks at the secretly treasured Times Square photographs... Anu relives that autmn evening, the neons and the glitter, the smell of perfume, black tuxedos, sexy stilettoes, Starbucks coffee... She looks out of her rented apartment in Behala...
The autmn sky looks different... The wind is crisp yet warm...
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
Errr...
I'm somehow pissed today. I dunno why or may be I know! Just cant bitch about it on the blog. Why do we always have to maintain this"Its Ok" face when nothin is ok...nothin is really working and u still have to say"Ya I'm fine"...
Bunk it...As if I care... But I dunno may be I do , thats why I'm like this...
Its raining outside. I can feel it. I can't see it though.Thanks to the shaded glass windows in my office.... They are sepia toned... Well sepia is my favorite...but right now I hate everything.. everything around me...
My notepad looks terribly silly with different irrelevant faces sketeched all over.....Thanks to my extraordinary artistic skills...
The phone beeps: "Vodafone brings special bonus cards for you!" It seems they will offer bonus cards with extra talktime on my funeral as well...
At the other corner... typically "working hard, dedicated and dont disturb me" kinda looks... God save them from this mundane life...I've seen them bitch and smile too...but thats once in a blue moon...the conversation is so god damn technical...the only thing you can manage to do is smile while you think"God what was that"! Nerds!
I've discreetly opened this document and I'm just keyboarding...I'm desperate right at this moment...I want to talk to someone...No one's available...
Hey but theres something that makes me smile...I have a coffee date in the evening..Barista Blast and brownie with icecream... Thats why someone said something about clouds and silver lining... Well silver lining and brownie!!@# No then make it brown with lotsa chocolate sauce...
Bunk it...As if I care... But I dunno may be I do , thats why I'm like this...
Its raining outside. I can feel it. I can't see it though.Thanks to the shaded glass windows in my office.... They are sepia toned... Well sepia is my favorite...but right now I hate everything.. everything around me...
My notepad looks terribly silly with different irrelevant faces sketeched all over.....Thanks to my extraordinary artistic skills...
The phone beeps: "Vodafone brings special bonus cards for you!" It seems they will offer bonus cards with extra talktime on my funeral as well...
At the other corner... typically "working hard, dedicated and dont disturb me" kinda looks... God save them from this mundane life...I've seen them bitch and smile too...but thats once in a blue moon...the conversation is so god damn technical...the only thing you can manage to do is smile while you think"God what was that"! Nerds!
I've discreetly opened this document and I'm just keyboarding...I'm desperate right at this moment...I want to talk to someone...No one's available...
Hey but theres something that makes me smile...I have a coffee date in the evening..Barista Blast and brownie with icecream... Thats why someone said something about clouds and silver lining... Well silver lining and brownie!!@# No then make it brown with lotsa chocolate sauce...
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Corporate
They come in the best of their formal wear in tune with the latest fashion... Their ears jammed with headfones switching from chartbusters to client calls... They get into the swanky elevators with other tagged professionals... They reach their respective floors, swipe their yellow red blue I cards...
They enter into their snazzy workstations, switch on their machines... Their cubicles decorated with memorabilia that reflects a part of their personal identity, thats the only space to "show off" your personal taste...
Women head for the washrooms.... The touch ups continue... Finally they add the last coat of lipstick and exchange pleasant glances... and another day starts
It starts with exploring the over flooded mailbox... Forwards, junks, irrelevant information, missed conversations, deadlines, failure to meet deadlines, unimportant events and so on...
Then its work, intercepted with regular bitching sessions... These bitching sessions are almost endless... It completes a full circle always--A to B to C and back to A and the saga continues.... What goes around comes around...
Well if you are curious about the subject of conversations well it can range from your appearance, lifestyle, your wardrobe, your personal life to your so called corporate character... Criticism is a stress buster for the modern day corporates... In case you don't criticise, you are way behind the bandwagon... So play on fellows... join the group...
Apart from bitching another game is "mud slinging"... In the middle of a conversation, just spot your prey and make him/her the laughing stock to boost your ego... If your prey is insignificantly submissive, it surely adds to the pleasure quotient... sadistic pleasure? no not at all.....its all about taking a break!
And while doing all this, never forget to blow the trumpets... Shout scream speak... the louder the noise, more easily you will be heard...
Well after the usual sessions of bitching, smirking and over indulgently oiling..Its again back to work and slogging hard... At the fag end of the day as they leave their workstations in their crisp formal wear, they are tired, back to their own lives, exploring the left overs of their personal space...
Exhausted, drained out, unbuttoned shirts, a quick splash under the shower, kohl smudged eyes--- they are all heroes...Bruised and battered heroes borne out of everyday mundane struggle, humiliation, pain, success and failure...Some win, some lose and some give up... but the urge to get to the top continues... the urge to dethrone is carefully nurtured by all of them every single day...
In the end the tired soul, stressed out with the tough battles of life, comes back to its cocoon...
And again yet another day begins amidst airconditioned cubicles, amidst deadlines, amidst the rat race....the heroes fight it out again...
They enter into their snazzy workstations, switch on their machines... Their cubicles decorated with memorabilia that reflects a part of their personal identity, thats the only space to "show off" your personal taste...
Women head for the washrooms.... The touch ups continue... Finally they add the last coat of lipstick and exchange pleasant glances... and another day starts
It starts with exploring the over flooded mailbox... Forwards, junks, irrelevant information, missed conversations, deadlines, failure to meet deadlines, unimportant events and so on...
Then its work, intercepted with regular bitching sessions... These bitching sessions are almost endless... It completes a full circle always--A to B to C and back to A and the saga continues.... What goes around comes around...
Well if you are curious about the subject of conversations well it can range from your appearance, lifestyle, your wardrobe, your personal life to your so called corporate character... Criticism is a stress buster for the modern day corporates... In case you don't criticise, you are way behind the bandwagon... So play on fellows... join the group...
Apart from bitching another game is "mud slinging"... In the middle of a conversation, just spot your prey and make him/her the laughing stock to boost your ego... If your prey is insignificantly submissive, it surely adds to the pleasure quotient... sadistic pleasure? no not at all.....its all about taking a break!
And while doing all this, never forget to blow the trumpets... Shout scream speak... the louder the noise, more easily you will be heard...
Well after the usual sessions of bitching, smirking and over indulgently oiling..Its again back to work and slogging hard... At the fag end of the day as they leave their workstations in their crisp formal wear, they are tired, back to their own lives, exploring the left overs of their personal space...
Exhausted, drained out, unbuttoned shirts, a quick splash under the shower, kohl smudged eyes--- they are all heroes...Bruised and battered heroes borne out of everyday mundane struggle, humiliation, pain, success and failure...Some win, some lose and some give up... but the urge to get to the top continues... the urge to dethrone is carefully nurtured by all of them every single day...
In the end the tired soul, stressed out with the tough battles of life, comes back to its cocoon...
And again yet another day begins amidst airconditioned cubicles, amidst deadlines, amidst the rat race....the heroes fight it out again...
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Crash...
The blurred glass windowpanes wore a shade of grey. The empty coffee mug stained with the brown elixir stood on the bedside table. Pages from an unread book, her newly bought tees, her blue comb were scattered on the bed... Her dressing table was cluttered as usual... junk neckpiece, tribal earrings, safetypins, make up kits, broken edges of kohl and over used bindis sticking on the mirrror...
On the other end of the room, the books were stacked ... Her jeans was hanging from one end of the chair as it legs almost kissed the marble floor... The Denvers, Floyds and Jovis were all piled up... She loved this disorganised flavor about her room...
Her cellphone was lying on the bed as well... No one ever saw the phone as it was always sticking to her ears... Her huge leather bag was almost like a portable curio shop... from age old movie tickets to long forgotten bills all were stuffed inside... She carried a wallet always which had a photograph, a letter from Riju and her driving license...
Riju's flight had almost reached.... They would be meeting after a long time... She was speeding through Bypass... And it was then she saw the yellow cab at a distance...
The asphalt road was smeared with blood, a few confused shrieks over and there, shattered pieces of glass, a curious crowd, the monotonous whistle of an ambulance, her huge leather bag on one end, the overbearing smell of disinfectant in the morgue....
"Rash Driving kills woman"-- the headlines on one insignificant corner of the Monday newspaper had a few lines about the accident.
On the other end of the room, the books were stacked ... Her jeans was hanging from one end of the chair as it legs almost kissed the marble floor... The Denvers, Floyds and Jovis were all piled up... She loved this disorganised flavor about her room...
Her cellphone was lying on the bed as well... No one ever saw the phone as it was always sticking to her ears... Her huge leather bag was almost like a portable curio shop... from age old movie tickets to long forgotten bills all were stuffed inside... She carried a wallet always which had a photograph, a letter from Riju and her driving license...
Riju's flight had almost reached.... They would be meeting after a long time... She was speeding through Bypass... And it was then she saw the yellow cab at a distance...
The asphalt road was smeared with blood, a few confused shrieks over and there, shattered pieces of glass, a curious crowd, the monotonous whistle of an ambulance, her huge leather bag on one end, the overbearing smell of disinfectant in the morgue....
"Rash Driving kills woman"-- the headlines on one insignificant corner of the Monday newspaper had a few lines about the accident.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
15th Aug' 2009
Woke up early morning... switched on the television.... our independent spirit was in full swing by then... the Prime Minister's speech, music channels blaring out patriotic chartbusters, the Indian flag all over my television...sms-es poured in wishing "happy independence day" ....
Loooked out of my balcony... the para club had got some dusty faded string of paper flags .... they were busy decorating the club premises with the national flag (keeping the ma mati oops trinamool colors aside)...
Switched on the radio...The RJs aimlessly blabbered on..."whats the meaning of independence for you".... listeners, over enthusiastic callers sang in patriotic songs, criticized corruption, praised our freedom fighters and finally hanged up after being assured of food vouchers and discount coupons...
Flipped the pages of the newspaper... Mother dairy had released its tri color ice cream named "Swad Desh"---Glanced at the page 3 sections... celebs sporting the whitest of the white had celebrated pre Independence party at some infamous pub...
Went to the nearest multiplex to buy tickets of Kaminay for the Sunday show... The mall was over crowded at 11 in the morning.... From sniffer dogs to sniffer bitches!.... School kids, teenagers, love birds, socialites, hot babes, ma mashi dada boudi .... sporting the best of their kurtas, sarees, salwar kameez and to top it all the miniature national flag sticking on to them as the icing on the cake...
All the shops offered 50% discount to celebrate independence day... from United colors of Benetton, Tommy Hilfiger, Levis or Victoria's Secret.... all were a part of the Indian independence... and the music which played at the backdrop was none other than Lata Mangeshkar's "Vande Mataram".... tri color baloons, tri color sarees, tri color kurtas... independence smeared all over....
While coming back... got stuck in a terrible jam... the ruling party had organized a reddish tri color procession... celebrating independence and abusing the opposition in its own way!
Back home, sipped my cola and back to my television....Channels were busy flashing SRK's humilation at the airport while wannabe pg 3 ites shared the space to voice out their grievances at different airports in the world!!!! US inconsideration, racial discrimination again highlighted at its peak with independence at the backdrop...
15th August' 1942:
A woman in her mid 30s had walked 10 miles, just to get a glimpse of Bapu... She would be meeting Mahatma for the first time...She was a middle class housewife of 1940s in rural Bengal. A mother of five, married at a very young age, she was deeply moved by Gandhiji's fiery speech. She wanted to do her bit for the nation......
Her gold bangles were the only ornaments that were left..... She had saved them for her elder daughter's marriage....She touched Bapu's feet and handed it over to him....Her eyes were moist as Bapu blessed her.... She dreamt of an independent India someday....
I live in an independent India...
Happy Independence!
Loooked out of my balcony... the para club had got some dusty faded string of paper flags .... they were busy decorating the club premises with the national flag (keeping the ma mati oops trinamool colors aside)...
Switched on the radio...The RJs aimlessly blabbered on..."whats the meaning of independence for you".... listeners, over enthusiastic callers sang in patriotic songs, criticized corruption, praised our freedom fighters and finally hanged up after being assured of food vouchers and discount coupons...
Flipped the pages of the newspaper... Mother dairy had released its tri color ice cream named "Swad Desh"---Glanced at the page 3 sections... celebs sporting the whitest of the white had celebrated pre Independence party at some infamous pub...
Went to the nearest multiplex to buy tickets of Kaminay for the Sunday show... The mall was over crowded at 11 in the morning.... From sniffer dogs to sniffer bitches!.... School kids, teenagers, love birds, socialites, hot babes, ma mashi dada boudi .... sporting the best of their kurtas, sarees, salwar kameez and to top it all the miniature national flag sticking on to them as the icing on the cake...
All the shops offered 50% discount to celebrate independence day... from United colors of Benetton, Tommy Hilfiger, Levis or Victoria's Secret.... all were a part of the Indian independence... and the music which played at the backdrop was none other than Lata Mangeshkar's "Vande Mataram".... tri color baloons, tri color sarees, tri color kurtas... independence smeared all over....
While coming back... got stuck in a terrible jam... the ruling party had organized a reddish tri color procession... celebrating independence and abusing the opposition in its own way!
Back home, sipped my cola and back to my television....Channels were busy flashing SRK's humilation at the airport while wannabe pg 3 ites shared the space to voice out their grievances at different airports in the world!!!! US inconsideration, racial discrimination again highlighted at its peak with independence at the backdrop...
15th August' 1942:
A woman in her mid 30s had walked 10 miles, just to get a glimpse of Bapu... She would be meeting Mahatma for the first time...She was a middle class housewife of 1940s in rural Bengal. A mother of five, married at a very young age, she was deeply moved by Gandhiji's fiery speech. She wanted to do her bit for the nation......
Her gold bangles were the only ornaments that were left..... She had saved them for her elder daughter's marriage....She touched Bapu's feet and handed it over to him....Her eyes were moist as Bapu blessed her.... She dreamt of an independent India someday....
I live in an independent India...
Happy Independence!
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Techtalk
After I completed my post graduation in Mass Communication, all I wanted to be was the next cropped hair Barkha Dutt spending stormy nights in Jammu Kashmir war camps or interviewing Shahrukh Khan in glossy airconditioned comfort! But as fate would have it, Peter Grainge overpowered Barkha Dutt in the long run!
After a few years of my short stint in freelancing, copywriting and content writing, I finally ended up as a Technical Writer. Well before this job, I really had no clue about technical writing, nor I had the slightest idea that where this would lead to. But as they say, Capricorns (goats) have a tremendous sense of belief in their career decisions.
During my content writing days, I received a job offer as a technical writer from a reputed multinational. The job offer came with a huge role description (people were really sure of my knowledge in this area!). The role description was almost Hebrew at that point.
With my limited knowledge, the day before the interview, I tried to do a small research on tech writing over the Internet. I really did not know where to start. There were a number of sites which had loads of information related to tech writing. But as luck would have it, I ended up reading a blog named “Tina the technical writer”. I was so interested in Tina that I did not waste my time in reading anything else. Alas! Tina was of no help!
The next day I went for the interview all dressed up. There was a round of security checks, which made me look like the next Osama in town. After waiting for sometime, I heard someone calling my name.
After all these years, I can hardly recollect the questions or the answers, but I still remember that someone had asked, “Do you know how to make Table of Contents?” I was feeling almost blank at that point but that did not stop me. There was a quick reply from my side: “Well of course I know. You have to write the content and then you arrange it in a table!”
Well I will not blabber any more about my profound knowledge in this area but creating a TOC was the most memorable lesson in my tech writing career!
After a few years of my short stint in freelancing, copywriting and content writing, I finally ended up as a Technical Writer. Well before this job, I really had no clue about technical writing, nor I had the slightest idea that where this would lead to. But as they say, Capricorns (goats) have a tremendous sense of belief in their career decisions.
During my content writing days, I received a job offer as a technical writer from a reputed multinational. The job offer came with a huge role description (people were really sure of my knowledge in this area!). The role description was almost Hebrew at that point.
With my limited knowledge, the day before the interview, I tried to do a small research on tech writing over the Internet. I really did not know where to start. There were a number of sites which had loads of information related to tech writing. But as luck would have it, I ended up reading a blog named “Tina the technical writer”. I was so interested in Tina that I did not waste my time in reading anything else. Alas! Tina was of no help!
The next day I went for the interview all dressed up. There was a round of security checks, which made me look like the next Osama in town. After waiting for sometime, I heard someone calling my name.
After all these years, I can hardly recollect the questions or the answers, but I still remember that someone had asked, “Do you know how to make Table of Contents?” I was feeling almost blank at that point but that did not stop me. There was a quick reply from my side: “Well of course I know. You have to write the content and then you arrange it in a table!”
Well I will not blabber any more about my profound knowledge in this area but creating a TOC was the most memorable lesson in my tech writing career!
Monday, June 15, 2009
Notebook
“Let it grow, let it grow. Let it blossom, let it flow. In the sun, the rain, the snow. Love is lovely, let it grow.”
She looked at the notebook again. He had scribbled those lines years back. The worn out pages of this notebook was all that was left. It treasured a few scribbled thoughts here n there, scattered in the whirlwind of time.
He had called her after all these years. He wanted to meet. She was in a dilemma.
She came to office that day. She looked into the mirror. 10 years ---a long time. Once a petite 20 year old she has now turned into a married 30-ish woman. Her day starts with making scrambled eggs, dropping her kids to school, driving to her workplace and at night reading books as Vipul dozes off to sleep after taking a drink.
Her life was going on, when one late summer afternoon he called her. The images flashed again. How she waited for him for hours at the bus stop desperate to let him know, but he never turned up.
His voice sounded strange after all these years. He said he wanted to meet her. She was curious, excited. She thought for a while and then she called him.
She took a half-day from office. She got an Eric Clapton for him from the bookstore. She spent an hour at the beauty parlor, desperate to reduce those fine lines, those strands of grey here ‘n there and get rid of that tanned tropical look.
It was 6 in the evening. A busy Rashbehari crossing. She came out of the parlor. There was a lump in her throat. She was nervous. She looked at the watch. Its time to give him a call. Is he waiting for her? How does he look? Will he look at her in the same way as he used to years back, during her college days…She remembered every li’l detail, every late night conversation they had…
She finally dialed the number. It was busy. God! He must be calling her. She dialed again. The monotonous ring tone on the other side and then that voice picked up. She said “Ki re byasto khub? Dekha korbi bolechili”
He replied: “Oh tui… na re aj ektu byasto achi…aj hobena…some other time may be…
He uttered the same thing years back after she waited hours for him…
Mrs. Bose looked at her watch. Vipul will be home soon. It was time …Her lipstick was feeling sticky... She was drained out after a tiring day at office...Time to get back to her life… Time to get back to her world... The some other time never comes… Their time never came…
She looked at the notebook again. He had scribbled those lines years back. The worn out pages of this notebook was all that was left. It treasured a few scribbled thoughts here n there, scattered in the whirlwind of time.
He had called her after all these years. He wanted to meet. She was in a dilemma.
She came to office that day. She looked into the mirror. 10 years ---a long time. Once a petite 20 year old she has now turned into a married 30-ish woman. Her day starts with making scrambled eggs, dropping her kids to school, driving to her workplace and at night reading books as Vipul dozes off to sleep after taking a drink.
Her life was going on, when one late summer afternoon he called her. The images flashed again. How she waited for him for hours at the bus stop desperate to let him know, but he never turned up.
His voice sounded strange after all these years. He said he wanted to meet her. She was curious, excited. She thought for a while and then she called him.
She took a half-day from office. She got an Eric Clapton for him from the bookstore. She spent an hour at the beauty parlor, desperate to reduce those fine lines, those strands of grey here ‘n there and get rid of that tanned tropical look.
It was 6 in the evening. A busy Rashbehari crossing. She came out of the parlor. There was a lump in her throat. She was nervous. She looked at the watch. Its time to give him a call. Is he waiting for her? How does he look? Will he look at her in the same way as he used to years back, during her college days…She remembered every li’l detail, every late night conversation they had…
She finally dialed the number. It was busy. God! He must be calling her. She dialed again. The monotonous ring tone on the other side and then that voice picked up. She said “Ki re byasto khub? Dekha korbi bolechili”
He replied: “Oh tui… na re aj ektu byasto achi…aj hobena…some other time may be…
He uttered the same thing years back after she waited hours for him…
Mrs. Bose looked at her watch. Vipul will be home soon. It was time …Her lipstick was feeling sticky... She was drained out after a tiring day at office...Time to get back to her life… Time to get back to her world... The some other time never comes… Their time never came…
Monday, June 8, 2009
Eternal Wait
It was a busy Monday morning...The vehicles queued up near AJC Bose Road.. honked monotonously to reach their destination...tagged professionals inside air conditioned comfort, sweating salesman in jam packed buses and uniformed children dragging the burden of life on their shoulders....set for another day...
It was then I looked at the blue whitewashed mansion on the other side of the road.... I saw them... Sitting on the balcony, listlessly staring at the busy scheduled lifestyle where they once belonged....
It was only a few days ago they were a part of this world. They had to meet deadlines, walk through the air conditioned corridors, engage in corporate power plays, or were busy preparing lunch boxes for their husbands and kids...it was just a few years back they were busy in their own world...It was only a few days ago they were carrying their school bags and they had started for school..Their tiny fingers gently clutched daddy's warm hands...It was only a few years back they had their crushes.... It seemed just a few moments back when they had exchanged sweet notes with their loved ones... It was all there...It seemed just a like a moment that has faded away in the blue distant horizon...
Now with wrinkled vision and parched lips they sit motionless in the blue balconies of St. Johns old age home... Life has pushed them to an edge which is beyond schedules...Its just an eternal wait for them as the clock ticks in an off hand way...
It was then I looked at the blue whitewashed mansion on the other side of the road.... I saw them... Sitting on the balcony, listlessly staring at the busy scheduled lifestyle where they once belonged....
It was only a few days ago they were a part of this world. They had to meet deadlines, walk through the air conditioned corridors, engage in corporate power plays, or were busy preparing lunch boxes for their husbands and kids...it was just a few years back they were busy in their own world...It was only a few days ago they were carrying their school bags and they had started for school..Their tiny fingers gently clutched daddy's warm hands...It was only a few years back they had their crushes.... It seemed just a few moments back when they had exchanged sweet notes with their loved ones... It was all there...It seemed just a like a moment that has faded away in the blue distant horizon...
Now with wrinkled vision and parched lips they sit motionless in the blue balconies of St. Johns old age home... Life has pushed them to an edge which is beyond schedules...Its just an eternal wait for them as the clock ticks in an off hand way...
Sunday, May 31, 2009
....
Its just nothing that makes me bloggy tonite... I want to write something but not sure abt what... My face right now is greased with sweat, I have kohl smudged eyes and the lipstick has faded leaving a sticky feeling on my parched lips.... I was just watching Forrest Gump as Tom Hanks waited for his bus....then I surfed and shifted to "Fashion" ---Piggy Chops enacting the typical small town girl turning into a wannabe...then I moved on to DD 1 where some odd girls draped in horrible junk printed syntheic sarees, sporting white flowers on their bouffaunts(hope the spelling is right!) have participated in a weird fashion show!!! The judge is some known face small time actor who is asking typical age old questions like "Whats the definition of a proper human being"...Bullshit...God knows why beauty contest winners have to go through this ordeal! thats y i'm not there ;)
Finally when television seemed utterly frustrating I switched onto Orkut...the same old stuff...A list of updates which shows happy couples, friends stuffing their album with onsite memorabilia, people adding God knows what videos, people updating their profile...and a few boring scraps and friend requests: "Will you be my friend" ....
I opened my Gmail....My mailbox is loaded with forward mails like "A puzzle foryou" "Congrats, you've won $25000", " kinda mails...occassionally intercepted by "A has scrapped you" "B has tagged you" "C has sent you a friend request" "D f*d u"
Then I became bloggy...I wanted to write...But nothing came on my mind... I read the blogs by my fellow bloggers: God I stand nowhere... so whats the point of blogging!
So now I feel like calling up someone...I dont feel like blogging nemore....Lets c some other time may b.... God knows what I want...real "beauty contest" question in my life....!!!!
Finally when television seemed utterly frustrating I switched onto Orkut...the same old stuff...A list of updates which shows happy couples, friends stuffing their album with onsite memorabilia, people adding God knows what videos, people updating their profile...and a few boring scraps and friend requests: "Will you be my friend" ....
I opened my Gmail....My mailbox is loaded with forward mails like "A puzzle foryou" "Congrats, you've won $25000", " kinda mails...occassionally intercepted by "A has scrapped you" "B has tagged you" "C has sent you a friend request" "D f*d u"
Then I became bloggy...I wanted to write...But nothing came on my mind... I read the blogs by my fellow bloggers: God I stand nowhere... so whats the point of blogging!
So now I feel like calling up someone...I dont feel like blogging nemore....Lets c some other time may b.... God knows what I want...real "beauty contest" question in my life....!!!!
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Of them, by them, for them
Its that time of the year when the temperatures are soaring to 45 degrees, when the sweating citizens are looking for a breath of fresh air, when the Met Department responsibly spreads the news of approaching Norwesters almost everyday which finally God knows why gets drifted towards Bangladesh, with us being in the same boiling state as ever...during this Sweltering heat and rising temperatures, my country is going in for elections....
Well if you didnt know how elections really looked in this part of the world then lemme just give you a sneak peek into it.... Elections and summer seasons have somehow become synonymous... Every summer you'll find these impeccably starched dhoti kurta or saree clad politicians at every alley or bylane tearing their lungs out...this is the only time you can get to see them...
Genocides, Water issues, industry lockouts, jobs, tax---well almost every issue is seriously handled by them in their stirring public speeches...From hurling abuses to towards the opposition to wearing the most ordinary clothes, titillating "with the masses" sentiment, they are skilled actors of this trade...
Come April or May, these politicians are happily engaged in their task of spreading their same old party mantra door to door through pamphlets, leaflets,---- Red or blue, yellow or orange these party symbols come in different shapes...almirah, lanterns, sickles, flowers, lions, tigers, deftly painted on the white washed walls of your building...Graphitis are popular in this region.... just another expression of their democratic right...
Currently my para is decorated in orange and green as you can guess intercepted with red sickles. Every other evening, when I'm drained out in this sweltering heat, I enter my para which almost looks like a circus decorated with giant hoardings cashing on the poor fate of Nandigram, highlighting Tapasi Mallik's loss, Nano, Industry, ...each of them in their own way continue to tickle the regional sentiments....
Traffic jams are really common during this time as our netas are more concerned about larger issues than mere traffic jams... Every corner of the road is blocked by the maniac processions shouting "bande mataram"--well patriotism redefined at every turn of the road---
The television also plays its role in the elections... encouraging not only to vote but whom to vote as well... Naming specific parties different ad campaigns are launched to encourage the masses... The celebrities join in to encourage the young India to vote....However I have my strong doubts that how many of these pancaked page 3 socialites brave the april sun to cast their votes... (that was cynical me!)
As this frantic fanaticism continues for days, elections knock the door. We finally go to the polling booths, we vote(unless its already being casted by someone else)...and then the television continues on this boring post poll news for days... and finally someone gets the most coveted seat of power...and then.... it goes on...
corruption, bribery, jobloss, taxes, terrorism, power cuts continue till the next elections until you again get to see our starched articulate well wishers... Until this festival in the world's largest democracy is organised again.... Till then.... happy voting!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
I need sleep!!!
I hate everything around me now…I’m sitting in an empty cubicle…I don’t know the people around me…The cubicle has boring shades of pink and green…. It has a number of yellow post its clutching its green background….An empty lavender bottle…A black fat phone…And a boring me!!!
I’m not in a mood to work… its Friday…My guy is pissed with me for God knows what…The temperature outside is enough to boil eggs as well as human beings…. …. My liquid lipstick is constantly sticking to my teeth…look at me ….voila! pink teeth on a hot sultry summer morning… I’m bored…Someone’s playing Bryan Adams somewhere…I need some sleeeeeeeeeeeeeep….
I’m not in a mood to work… its Friday…My guy is pissed with me for God knows what…The temperature outside is enough to boil eggs as well as human beings…. …. My liquid lipstick is constantly sticking to my teeth…look at me ….voila! pink teeth on a hot sultry summer morning… I’m bored…Someone’s playing Bryan Adams somewhere…I need some sleeeeeeeeeeeeeep….
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Looking Back...
It was way back in the 80s, when people like me who have almost fossilized on this earth were born, when life was all about Nirma Washing Powder ads, the glittering sparkle in Rajus pearly white teeth and the energy tonic—Hamdard Ka Sinkara…
Life in 80s and the beginning of 90s was untouched by the glitz and glamour of the Page 3 parties or the snazzy shopping malls…Entertainment was restricted to family picnics and occasional biye baris with a rare few Chunnu Munnus(those were the common names!) getting to celebrate their big birthdays…
Chitrahaar was the only Bollywood show we got to watch amidst much restriction ( my dad was against anything “Hindi”)… Chitrahaar was our key to Bollywood on those days…On every Wednesday we were glued to the tv set to watch the same old gyrating moves by Mithun, Jayaprada’s nagin style dance moves(with the dafli as a prop!) and Mr. Bachhan of cors …
We were never allowed to watch Hindi films when we were young… My first movie was way back in 1984 when I was a toddler…The film as I remember was Ghare Baire screened at our very own intellectual hub Nandan…Well the experience was not interesting at all… the moment I saw Miss Gilby(Jennifer Kendall) was injured I almost screamed out aloud and I just went on... As my parents were forced to leave the auditorium (thanks to me), a few self proclaimed intellectuals commented: “Boita Bojheni Bodhoy!”(my mom never took me to Nandan for the next 10-15 years)
Life in 80s was about watching television ads…The boring specs clad newscasters had already made the television unbearable (Sunit Tandon was good however!)…But I loved the ads…As the frilly frocked Nirma girl took turns on the screen even I danced to the same tune in my living room…. I still remember the catchline: Wah Raju tumhare dant to motiyo jaise chamak rahe hain….Well well you guessed it right the credit entirely goes to Dabur Lal Dant Manjan! It was during this kiddish family oriented advertisements Alyque Padamsee’s Liril ad raised much furor in the industry….Well who would really want to see a bathing Indian beauty considering our age old Talibanistic oops hypocrite Indian taboos… But Liril surely managed to capture the hearts of the Desi Girls back then…
My first Hindi film however was Maine Pyar Kiya in 1991…That was really an experience which I’ll never ever forget….When my life had turned almost black and white thanks to Ray and Hollywood classics there it was Rajashri pictures coming to my rescue with Salman Khan!!!! I was oh so used to the quintessential Bong look thanks to Soumitra and occasional Uttam Kumar stuff…this seemed to be a unique respite! For the first time I was introduced to glittery song dance and masala filled Bollywood oozing of passion, love, family values and separation and again boy meets girl story…I became an instant Salman fan ….
However 80s reminds me of something really unique and special…. The radio…The 80s radio was about the Bibidh Bharati which hosted shows like Bhule Bisre Geet and Aap ki Farmaish….Back then after our dinner as me and didi cuddled up in our beds we secretly switched on the radio…. There was a show called Aap ki Farmaish---Just like any other request show the presenter read the long list of requestors first and played their favorite song….There was a strange mystery in the names and the places where they belonged….”Subba sing from Badaun zila Rampur, Hawaldar Ram Pandey from Jammu, Suneeta, Santosh aur Tibbu from Latur”….The list seemed to be endless and we went off to sleep during that impeccable list reading session….But often looking at the night sky I thought, what is Subba Singh doing now when his favorite song “Chandan sa Badan” is being played at the dead of the night; is Hawaldar Ram Pandey from Jammu really listening to the song amidst the cold wintry Jammu night on a far away border post…Did they hear their names on the radio....As if I could visualize their lives through their names…the list went on and on….
My 80s was all about emotions, mystery, restrictions, frilly frocks, Mile Sur Mera Tumhara, Udaan, Humlog….It was about pastels, sketch pens and stone stickers…it was about my plaited hair uniformed childhood, it was about my didi and me, and about so many things which is lost in the passage of time...
As Cesare Pavese had rightly said…We do not remember days; we remember moments…These are some of the precious and cherished moments of my life!
Life in 80s and the beginning of 90s was untouched by the glitz and glamour of the Page 3 parties or the snazzy shopping malls…Entertainment was restricted to family picnics and occasional biye baris with a rare few Chunnu Munnus(those were the common names!) getting to celebrate their big birthdays…
Chitrahaar was the only Bollywood show we got to watch amidst much restriction ( my dad was against anything “Hindi”)… Chitrahaar was our key to Bollywood on those days…On every Wednesday we were glued to the tv set to watch the same old gyrating moves by Mithun, Jayaprada’s nagin style dance moves(with the dafli as a prop!) and Mr. Bachhan of cors …
We were never allowed to watch Hindi films when we were young… My first movie was way back in 1984 when I was a toddler…The film as I remember was Ghare Baire screened at our very own intellectual hub Nandan…Well the experience was not interesting at all… the moment I saw Miss Gilby(Jennifer Kendall) was injured I almost screamed out aloud and I just went on... As my parents were forced to leave the auditorium (thanks to me), a few self proclaimed intellectuals commented: “Boita Bojheni Bodhoy!”(my mom never took me to Nandan for the next 10-15 years)
Life in 80s was about watching television ads…The boring specs clad newscasters had already made the television unbearable (Sunit Tandon was good however!)…But I loved the ads…As the frilly frocked Nirma girl took turns on the screen even I danced to the same tune in my living room…. I still remember the catchline: Wah Raju tumhare dant to motiyo jaise chamak rahe hain….Well well you guessed it right the credit entirely goes to Dabur Lal Dant Manjan! It was during this kiddish family oriented advertisements Alyque Padamsee’s Liril ad raised much furor in the industry….Well who would really want to see a bathing Indian beauty considering our age old Talibanistic oops hypocrite Indian taboos… But Liril surely managed to capture the hearts of the Desi Girls back then…
My first Hindi film however was Maine Pyar Kiya in 1991…That was really an experience which I’ll never ever forget….When my life had turned almost black and white thanks to Ray and Hollywood classics there it was Rajashri pictures coming to my rescue with Salman Khan!!!! I was oh so used to the quintessential Bong look thanks to Soumitra and occasional Uttam Kumar stuff…this seemed to be a unique respite! For the first time I was introduced to glittery song dance and masala filled Bollywood oozing of passion, love, family values and separation and again boy meets girl story…I became an instant Salman fan ….
However 80s reminds me of something really unique and special…. The radio…The 80s radio was about the Bibidh Bharati which hosted shows like Bhule Bisre Geet and Aap ki Farmaish….Back then after our dinner as me and didi cuddled up in our beds we secretly switched on the radio…. There was a show called Aap ki Farmaish---Just like any other request show the presenter read the long list of requestors first and played their favorite song….There was a strange mystery in the names and the places where they belonged….”Subba sing from Badaun zila Rampur, Hawaldar Ram Pandey from Jammu, Suneeta, Santosh aur Tibbu from Latur”….The list seemed to be endless and we went off to sleep during that impeccable list reading session….But often looking at the night sky I thought, what is Subba Singh doing now when his favorite song “Chandan sa Badan” is being played at the dead of the night; is Hawaldar Ram Pandey from Jammu really listening to the song amidst the cold wintry Jammu night on a far away border post…Did they hear their names on the radio....As if I could visualize their lives through their names…the list went on and on….
My 80s was all about emotions, mystery, restrictions, frilly frocks, Mile Sur Mera Tumhara, Udaan, Humlog….It was about pastels, sketch pens and stone stickers…it was about my plaited hair uniformed childhood, it was about my didi and me, and about so many things which is lost in the passage of time...
As Cesare Pavese had rightly said…We do not remember days; we remember moments…These are some of the precious and cherished moments of my life!
Monday, February 23, 2009
Jay Ho...
And the Oscar goes to…By the time you are going through this crappy blog you might have read hundreds of articles, watched innumerable newsclips and discussed at length about the Academy Awards of this season and the name Slum Dog must have etched a fair mark on your third world grey cells…. So what was it really about slum dog…Was it all about an age old voyeuristic pleasure which the westerners have gained in India’s naked slum life…Or the artistic package which has brought into the foray the lives of the filthy, poor and uncouth slum dwellers of a third world nation or is it all about India’s emerging status in the world map….
Well the Oscars---It seems like the Nobel Prize of the season… did you guys know that the highest degree of cinematic excellence is awarded at the Oscars where films like Titanic are awarded with 11 or oops is it 12 Oscars? …Well the boring, intellectually overburdened grey haired cynical critics have written off Slumdog , and even chooses to keep mum about Smile Pinky…but just like the average Indian, I’m really happy about its success…Whatever be it our Rahman has won the Oscars… Now its our Rahman….oops no more communal colors guys!
Lets look back now at the film which seems to be the flavor of this season... The story of a few slum dwellers of India who grew up amidst the poverty, corruption, filthiness and uncouthness…and finally lives to celebrate the experiences of their life…
So is it just the celebration of life, its experiences or the good wins over the bad philosophy iced with Bollywood boy meets girl theory… well well the critics might be able to explain this better…all I could understand was Danny Boyle’s film was truly made for the Oscars…Where in the world would you find cooped up holes, children covered with shit playing amidst the garbage dens….naked child beggars, garbage vats, slums… what a perfect setting for a third world film which is oh so popular amidst the progressive Westerners…
So let these slums continue to live on the face of grey haired critics…let creative excellence only be achieved through poverty and let Dharavi be haunted by a number of rucksacked red faced “Phoren-ers” who would smirk , grin and shower all their curious western sympathy towards the third world phenomenon…and let all the Indians criticize more and more about slum dog…Coz who would love to see the same old sordid Indian reality again on 35mm….We live with it…We earn Oscars for it….Jay ho!
Well the Oscars---It seems like the Nobel Prize of the season… did you guys know that the highest degree of cinematic excellence is awarded at the Oscars where films like Titanic are awarded with 11 or oops is it 12 Oscars? …Well the boring, intellectually overburdened grey haired cynical critics have written off Slumdog , and even chooses to keep mum about Smile Pinky…but just like the average Indian, I’m really happy about its success…Whatever be it our Rahman has won the Oscars… Now its our Rahman….oops no more communal colors guys!
Lets look back now at the film which seems to be the flavor of this season... The story of a few slum dwellers of India who grew up amidst the poverty, corruption, filthiness and uncouthness…and finally lives to celebrate the experiences of their life…
So is it just the celebration of life, its experiences or the good wins over the bad philosophy iced with Bollywood boy meets girl theory… well well the critics might be able to explain this better…all I could understand was Danny Boyle’s film was truly made for the Oscars…Where in the world would you find cooped up holes, children covered with shit playing amidst the garbage dens….naked child beggars, garbage vats, slums… what a perfect setting for a third world film which is oh so popular amidst the progressive Westerners…
So let these slums continue to live on the face of grey haired critics…let creative excellence only be achieved through poverty and let Dharavi be haunted by a number of rucksacked red faced “Phoren-ers” who would smirk , grin and shower all their curious western sympathy towards the third world phenomenon…and let all the Indians criticize more and more about slum dog…Coz who would love to see the same old sordid Indian reality again on 35mm….We live with it…We earn Oscars for it….Jay ho!
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Slum dogs...
I was in Park Street the other day...Sitting amidst the red and white decor of KFC, I was happily munching on the crispy chunks of chicken intercepted by casual sips on the chilled cola... It was just then I looked outside... He was sitting idle...Tattered clothes, grease smeared face and a few pennies in his hand.. He was looking inside the restaurant... So many people inside, people hogging on huge pieces of chicken, people watching television and sipping their cola, people exchanging sweet nothings over a brownie sundae... all under the watchful eyes of that little kid...
His eyes wanted it all...Sitting on the other side of the window, it was reality staring at me... Inside the restaurant there were so many happy smiling faces, women with red lipsticks, men with their gelled hair and kids with ice cream smeared faces...But the li'l boy standing outside the window was the only thing that seemed real... As I looked at him I was forced to think, what was life really like at the other side of the window...Beyond our daily corporate power plays, beyond our popcorn soda lifestyle, beyond the glitzy shopping malls, what was life really for them?
In India,everyday we see so many child beggars on the streets...Most of the times you can find their little fingers knocking at your car window pane on a busy traffic... We either end up being sympathetic or just try to snub them for the umpteenth number of time... We go home and criticize the government at coffee table conversations and blame the European film makers for potraying Indian poverty...
But life still goes on for them...They grow up amidst these stuck up traffic jams, they grow up as silent onlookers always on the other side of the window pane...
His eyes wanted it all...Sitting on the other side of the window, it was reality staring at me... Inside the restaurant there were so many happy smiling faces, women with red lipsticks, men with their gelled hair and kids with ice cream smeared faces...But the li'l boy standing outside the window was the only thing that seemed real... As I looked at him I was forced to think, what was life really like at the other side of the window...Beyond our daily corporate power plays, beyond our popcorn soda lifestyle, beyond the glitzy shopping malls, what was life really for them?
In India,everyday we see so many child beggars on the streets...Most of the times you can find their little fingers knocking at your car window pane on a busy traffic... We either end up being sympathetic or just try to snub them for the umpteenth number of time... We go home and criticize the government at coffee table conversations and blame the European film makers for potraying Indian poverty...
But life still goes on for them...They grow up amidst these stuck up traffic jams, they grow up as silent onlookers always on the other side of the window pane...
Friday, January 30, 2009
My billboard dreams...
The dark blue night smeared with twinlkling crystals covers the concrete skyline... Its another evening...The traffic stands still amidst giant "buy me now" hoardings---flashy and unreal----- unreachable yet so close----
I'm on my way home... the colorful neons which light up the billboards covers the entire stretch of my journey..They promise you a bright future, new home, discounts, more money, more comfort, glittering lifestyle...Stuck in a traffic it gives you a moment to live your dream...and at the next moment you're again under another billboard... Our life is somewhat similar...Our dreams never really end they keep on changing like the flashy giant sized hoardings... So what next "a dream home in south city, the dream car i10, modular kitchen or venetian floors".... live your dream in true billboard style!
I'm on my way home... the colorful neons which light up the billboards covers the entire stretch of my journey..They promise you a bright future, new home, discounts, more money, more comfort, glittering lifestyle...Stuck in a traffic it gives you a moment to live your dream...and at the next moment you're again under another billboard... Our life is somewhat similar...Our dreams never really end they keep on changing like the flashy giant sized hoardings... So what next "a dream home in south city, the dream car i10, modular kitchen or venetian floors".... live your dream in true billboard style!
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Summer of 69
"Standin' on a mama's porch
You told me it would last forever
Oh the way you held my hand
I knew that it was now or never...."
Its kinda strange the way our feelings are...Even years after you have pushed them in a dark closet, chose to ignore them, pretended as if it never existed ...a quaint forgotten fragrance takes you back where you left them... and when I look back now it still feels the same, its still afresh... and still undefined....but may be its always about moving on...and I have tried moving on...
I dont know whether those were the best days of my life but I'll surely miss being a part of them....
"Oh when I look back now...
That summer seems to last forever...."
You told me it would last forever
Oh the way you held my hand
I knew that it was now or never...."
Its kinda strange the way our feelings are...Even years after you have pushed them in a dark closet, chose to ignore them, pretended as if it never existed ...a quaint forgotten fragrance takes you back where you left them... and when I look back now it still feels the same, its still afresh... and still undefined....but may be its always about moving on...and I have tried moving on...
I dont know whether those were the best days of my life but I'll surely miss being a part of them....
"Oh when I look back now...
That summer seems to last forever...."
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Happy New Year People!!!!
"Jaane Kahaan Le Jaayega
Khwabon Ka Hai Yeh Karvan
Jo Chal Sako Tum Bhi Chalo Yaaron
Apni Hi Dhun Mein Main Chala"
I'm listening to this song...Its from roadies...I dont know but theres a strange mushy smell of friendship, adventure, and bonding in this song which makes me reminisce abt old times I have left behind... Well its 2009 and I have left behind an entire big fat 2008 andI'm still carrying the memories in my backpack... So many things happened...I had innumerable fights with my boyfriend, I almost broke up with one of my friends(well we have patched up again...thanks to the year end gossips!), I moved on beyond my silly crushes... I tried to act mature and ended up being dumb...
2008 was kinda strange when it started...I landed up wth this job in my company where I hardly had any clue wat "technical writing" was all about...It seemed close to rocket science...but now well...its a little less than that thanks to all my seniors and friends...
In 2008 I took some time to get adjusted to my new cliched corporate life... But thanks to a few insane ppl around me...life was better...
2008 was also about making new friends... I met people who were younger than me yet quite focussed, matured and dedicated.. they knew really what they wanted from life...they were sincere towards their passion...I was impressed and pissed "why am I not like them"---well that was only for a moment...and at the next moment I was happy being me....
I goofed up a lot last year...well ask ppl around me...theyll surely admit that...Well it goes both for work as well as relationships...Im sorry guys I messed up... bt then hota hay... this "hota hay" word sounds comforting...
And 2008--- Jesus! all my friends got married!! I'm like depressed with my single status now! Wherever I went it was a friend's wedding where I was showered with the only probable question "so when is yours?" ---All I could do was smile and sport that "god knows" kinda grin.....damn it.... not again!
Apart from this I baked a cake for the first time in my life in 2008...that is surely an acheivement people...and I goofed up in that as well(ask my friends!!)..C'mon guys this is just the first time...
I bought my first digicam in 2008... and thats the best part... My room got a new color...I chose baby pink...and hate the girly look now!!!! cant help!!! Now I just call everyone to my room and force them to say" Ya your room really looks nice" ....What a pain and at all the wrong places...
Well I dont remember anything else that happened... The year passed away with me getting paranoid 100,000 times at every goof up, me getting sissy and sniffy at all the trivial but "extremely important for me " kind of issues, me calling up friends 1000 times just for a good dose of gossip...I'm still doin that....
But lets end this with my well prepared list of resoultions...Here comes the famous few:
Getting fat
Getting sane
Learning to Cook( wait till I bake another cake people!!!)
Spend less( no more foot spas , no more metro plaza every month, no more taking cabs, only bus....i cant keep this im sure!)
Clean the mess in my room every week (Are you kidding me!)
Reduce my phonebill (Gossips only.. nothin else...i swear)
No more silly soppy crushes! enough!( by the way my new neighbor is kinda cute)
And I wont bug you wth my boring blog until I think of a more "meaningful crap"---- Till then Happy 2009!!!
Khwabon Ka Hai Yeh Karvan
Jo Chal Sako Tum Bhi Chalo Yaaron
Apni Hi Dhun Mein Main Chala"
I'm listening to this song...Its from roadies...I dont know but theres a strange mushy smell of friendship, adventure, and bonding in this song which makes me reminisce abt old times I have left behind... Well its 2009 and I have left behind an entire big fat 2008 andI'm still carrying the memories in my backpack... So many things happened...I had innumerable fights with my boyfriend, I almost broke up with one of my friends(well we have patched up again...thanks to the year end gossips!), I moved on beyond my silly crushes... I tried to act mature and ended up being dumb...
2008 was kinda strange when it started...I landed up wth this job in my company where I hardly had any clue wat "technical writing" was all about...It seemed close to rocket science...but now well...its a little less than that thanks to all my seniors and friends...
In 2008 I took some time to get adjusted to my new cliched corporate life... But thanks to a few insane ppl around me...life was better...
2008 was also about making new friends... I met people who were younger than me yet quite focussed, matured and dedicated.. they knew really what they wanted from life...they were sincere towards their passion...I was impressed and pissed "why am I not like them"---well that was only for a moment...and at the next moment I was happy being me....
I goofed up a lot last year...well ask ppl around me...theyll surely admit that...Well it goes both for work as well as relationships...Im sorry guys I messed up... bt then hota hay... this "hota hay" word sounds comforting...
And 2008--- Jesus! all my friends got married!! I'm like depressed with my single status now! Wherever I went it was a friend's wedding where I was showered with the only probable question "so when is yours?" ---All I could do was smile and sport that "god knows" kinda grin.....damn it.... not again!
Apart from this I baked a cake for the first time in my life in 2008...that is surely an acheivement people...and I goofed up in that as well(ask my friends!!)..C'mon guys this is just the first time...
I bought my first digicam in 2008... and thats the best part... My room got a new color...I chose baby pink...and hate the girly look now!!!! cant help!!! Now I just call everyone to my room and force them to say" Ya your room really looks nice" ....What a pain and at all the wrong places...
Well I dont remember anything else that happened... The year passed away with me getting paranoid 100,000 times at every goof up, me getting sissy and sniffy at all the trivial but "extremely important for me " kind of issues, me calling up friends 1000 times just for a good dose of gossip...I'm still doin that....
But lets end this with my well prepared list of resoultions...Here comes the famous few:
Getting fat
Getting sane
Learning to Cook( wait till I bake another cake people!!!)
Spend less( no more foot spas , no more metro plaza every month, no more taking cabs, only bus....i cant keep this im sure!)
Clean the mess in my room every week (Are you kidding me!)
Reduce my phonebill (Gossips only.. nothin else...i swear)
No more silly soppy crushes! enough!( by the way my new neighbor is kinda cute)
And I wont bug you wth my boring blog until I think of a more "meaningful crap"---- Till then Happy 2009!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)