GOA IN THE MONSOONS

Now if there are a few places that are mandatory to visit in the rains its kerala, ooty and all those famous places that people will advise you to go. In fact, you will hardly ever meet anybody who will advise you to visit Goa in the monsoons. But the fact of the matter is this; I have no choice in the timing of my visit... I come and go as the navy pleases and so here I am at the behest of the Indian navy trying to get some training in naval provost and policing duties...




However, this time around the trip has been more of a revelation anything else. I have spent three years in this state without actually knowing much. And although I had promised myself that I would never visit this corner of the earth again (got to do with my bad memories of academy and stuff!), this time around I am actually feeling good that I came. the proverbial circle has been completed over the course of the last year. At one point of time, around June last year, I was so fed up with life in general and navy in particular that I had committed the greatest mistake of my life. In addition, I had also put up my papers for premature discharge from the naval service. quite expectedly, the authorities that be, sat comfortably on those papers until I decided (which was in no mean terms influenced by the sight of the sorry plight of the other officers who had put up their papers) that there was no point in being stupid and taking on the system, for it was far to huge and organised to be taken down by a powerless mortal like me. So, I decided that I had to work two pronged, build connections and work the way the system does, and find my way around the obstacles ahead. Fate had dealt me a fair hand in posting me to INS angre. As any experienced naval officer will tell you, posting in any depot ship is next only to posting in any headquarters as far as education in the service goes. These postings help in removing the blinds from your eyes and setting your priorities right as far as working in the navy is concerned. I was fortunate that I had been posted so early in my career in a ship as huge as angre and, though I had no notion of it at the time, it was the ideal platform for me to prove myself. The fact that I was so much younger to everybody else in the unit only helped my case as everybody tended to forgive my mistakes as those committed due to inexperience while my every good work was praised beyond normal grading. I had some excellent mentors in the unit the form of commanders and lt commanders who played a full hand in educating me in the nuances of the service, showing me the correct path to take in every circumstance, as well using their contacts to my advantage whenever required. at the cost of this article starting to sound too much of a thank you note, I would like to mention the valuable assistance of cdr ghosh, lt cdr preetika, lt cdr vatsala, and cdr gm singh. These men and women really made me regain my lost faith in the service. What I had always needed was work that would require all my grey cells to work full time. And this was what happened in angre. I was given a free rein to work as the works officer, which meant that although I was taking decisions about crores of rupees nobody ever questioned my judgment. This also meant I had to doubly responsible and prove worthy of the faith reposed on me by my commanding officer. As works officer I was justifiably proud of my work and pride in what you do goes a long way in building interest in your work. So, it was with the help of all these circumstances coming together tat I had my honeymoon phase in the service, something that I hadn't thought was possible.



So, when I finally decided to heed to better judgment and stop fighting the system and start manipulating it, I realised the efficacy of this suggestion. Cmde ramesh kumar, my commanding officer, was instrumental in helping forward my case at the naval headquarters and at a very early stage of my career (all the other officers in my batch have had to wait for a minimum of four years!) I was sent for the provost course. However, like I have already mentioned, the proverbial circle had come a full revolution and the prodigal son had returned. That I would ever feel nostalgic to visit this place, that I would ever call it my Alma mater was beyond my imagination. Yet, such is time that it not only heals all wounds, it creates new bonds. I actually feel sorry that the academy has shifted from this place and the whole place wears the deserted look a puja mandap looks after the immersion of the deity. The grass has grown wild, the vegetation has become greener, the buildings, shabby, broken and leaking, the parks in dire need of maintenance. It looks like a ballerina in the last stages of her glorious career. Yet, there is romance in the air and expectations of the future in the firmament of every building. It is as if every one is waiting with bated for the conjurer to remove the cloth and transform the frog into prince charming. The rains in this place are heavy and abrupt. The clouds roll in all of a sudden, covering up the sky with ominous darkness, and before you have time to realize what the next part of the programme is going to be, the deluge drenches you to the bones. The rains here aren’t soft and soothing as in Mumbai, they don’t come sashaying in like a coy bride. They come with the thundering velocity of a prizefighter, and the abruptness of a prima Donna. The nights are mysterious with the calls of a million insects sending shivers down your spine. Even as I look out of my glass windows at night, the moon shines brighter than I have ever seen it in Mumbai, through the dark branches of some or the other tree. The sea roars incessantly at the foot of the mountain, in a way beckoning me closer. Sometimes if I hear intently, I can hear the sound of a soft rattle, underlining the danger that lurks just outside the safe confines of my cabin.



I went visiting some of the beaches today and though its off-season, the place is still teeming with tourists. The fair skin is always a lure to the Indian eyes, male or female, and the shameless gaping at the foreign tourists is what makes for a bitter taste in the mouth. But then, Goa is supposed to be as far as you can go to get your full of carnal desires within this country. So, I guess all who come here come with a lot of expectations and I need not mention the limits that the suppressed Indian male libido can scale when given a free rein. Loved the beaches in the rain though. Went to Miramar. Dona Paula, calangute, baga, anjuna, vagator and coco beaches. In addition, had my full of the agauda fort. Had breakfast in calangute and lunch in aguada. One thing begs mention though, the change in the general attitude of the people. I have no idea whether it is just me or it’s the general case (though I have been assured by quite a few that this is the general case) but the people seem to have become very aggressive. It is no longer the laid back Goa I have seen during my cadet days but the Goa that demands its pound of flesh vehemently. Well, all things considered this is a wonderful opportunity to enjoy this beautiful state!

BONG SIN THE WORLD CUP

Subroto Majumdar -

This time around, too, there are quite a few Bongs playing for various countries. With Denmark having qualified, hordes of boddyis from the famous Sen family of Baidyanath Dham are in action.
 Soren Sen (Jersey No. 1) will keep goal for them while two of his distant cousins are his deputies – Ander Sen (16) and Christian Sen (22). In defence, there are more….. Jacob Sen (6) and Simon Poul Sen (15). The midfield sees the presence of Christian Poul Sen (2), Jen Sen (7), the veteran Jogen Sen (10) (who is now called Jorgen in Danish), Jakob Poul Sen (14), Enevold Sen (20) and young Erik Sen (21) who at 18 is one of the youngest players in the competition this year.
The Denmark attack has Lar Sen (18) who scored 5 goals in 5 games during qualification. The team is coached by the round old man Ol Sen, who played with such distinction in 1986, albeit with a sore throat. Boddyis as you know, have spread everywhere. Germany has a boddyi in their squad, defender Jan Sen (2), while another defender Mathij Sen (4) is playing for the Netherlands. Yet another defender Nel Sen (6), presumably a descendant of Nellie Sen Gupta, is captaining New Zealand. Why most of these boddyis are defensive is a question, that I shall avoid answering.
 Other countries have their Bongs too, though they may not be boddyis. The first name that comes to mind is that of the Cameroon defender from the French club Valenciennes – Gaetan Bong (Jersey No. 12). Here is a Bong who proudly announces his awesome heritage. Ghana has a descendant of Prince Dwarka Nath Tagore in their squad – striker Prince Tagoe (12).
(Some obvious clerical error has somehow removed the “R” from his surname.) A scion of the Sonar Bene family of Chetla is also in the Ghana team – defender Lee Addy (19). Ivory Coast has a somewhat retarded Bong in their squad – defender Arthur Boka (3), while another Sonar Bene or Johuri is their number 6 – defender Steve, though he now spells his surname with a `G’ and is listed as Steve Gohouri. (La French influence, no doubt!) Another Bong in the Ivorian squad is film star Bumba da’s younger brother defender Bamba (22). Nigeria has appointed a Bong as captain – striker Kanu Babu (4).
 Another Bong in the Nigerian team will try to forget the bitterness and deliver – he is striker Kalu Uchhe (12). France has left out Saha Babu this year, but they do have two elderly Bongs in their squad, midfielder Malou Da (15) and goalkeeper Mandan Da (16). (As their jersey numbers signify – Bongs do tend to stick together, especially in a foreign country.) Japan too has three elderly Bongs in their squad – defender Uchi Da (6), midfielder Hon Da (18) and forward Tama Da (11). The three dadas shall adequately look after the three departments of defence, midfield and offence.
  Another Bong in the Japanese squad is that great disciple of Goddess Kali – midfielder Ma Koto Hasebe (17). 53 year old Oka Da is the Japanese coach. That perennially lazy Bong is in the Spanish squad once again – he who never even hits a ball – He is defender Carlos Marche Na (4).

growing up

Archana Shah When I was 10, rubber meant eraser, ass meant donkey, gay meant happy, straight meant linear, making out meant logical deduction, laying meant setting aside, cock meant rooster, pussy meant cat, stag meant a male dear and a tit was always for a tat! English has changed so much now days!!

so many things change as we grow up!! its no great shakes growing up i can tell you. but we all want to grow up so much when we are kids...guess its all a part of that elusive thing called the human psyche. :D

im sorry

im sorry that i lost the watch that you gave me, the one that had cost you so much yet won so little appreciation. it had a small dial and you had thought that it will suit my wrist best. however, everyone including me told you that it wasnt that great. you werent that stupid to just quote its price and wow us all. so you just became sadder all the while. why didnt you tell me? it was so stupid of me not to realise its worth. i just took it for another gift that you had got for me and i lost it before even a year was over. it was then that you told me that it was worth a 12and a half thousand rupees. even today when i buy a watch that costs 9000 rs on my own and my purchasing capacity has grown so much 12.5 k seems so high. then you had this huge loan and you had to spend such horrid time in uk having to cut costs. yet you managed to buy that gift for me. i have been really insensitive at times and i must ask for you forgiveness for every little thing that i had done wrong, even though i know that you will never get to hear this, read this or whatever. it just needs to get out of me.. i still miss you but only sometimes. i have almost forgotten you. yet we spent so much time together, there are so many small things that just reminds me of you.

THE BEST PATISSERIE IN TOWN

theo broma is widely reagarded as the best patisserie in mumbai. crowned the best patisserie by the times food guuide and a whole host of other renowned food guides this small shop in the heart of colaba enjoys a special place in the heart of mumbaikars and confectionary connoisseurs from far and wide. those that have had a bite of its delectable pastries, truffles, cakes, breads, chocolates and a whole host of other delicacies, spread the message of pure ecstasy far and wide and, as a result, people come flocking from from far away distances to taste the delicacies that do justice to the name. by the way, the name in itself means 'God's own food' in greek. the first time i came across this small nook in colaba next to the hp petrol pump was when i was told prior to the navy ball by lt cdr pritika that there existed this absolutely mind blowing confectionery in colaba and i might try and get them to come for the navy ball. that was when i was introduced to the theo broma. so, i went hunting for this shop, and hunting it was, for it was hidden right in front of all of our noses. the location and the interiors kind of reminded me of that fabulous movie 'Chocolat' starring judi dench and johnny depp, written by joanne harris. it was pure magic and you could feel it the moment you entered the premises. kamal messman, the chef who is the heart behind this shop and her daughter kainaz messman are absolutely unbelievable and it was a beginning of a love affair that has lasted for more tahn a year now. the cheese cakes. made from raspberry, blueberry and mango are a delight to have anyday. however, in my opinion the best part of the menu is the brownie. i tell you mon cherie, i have never in my life tasted such chocolate roasted ecstasy. i can make a pilgrimage just to taste one of their brownies. this is to say nothing of their range of other products. if there is one thing i will miss when i leave mumbai it will be theo broma and its soul stirring brownies. thanks a lot kamal and kainaz, may theo broma prosper for long.

i may have been an asshole when i was presumptuous enough to state that mumbai was a place that i hated!! after all. mumbai is a place where men and women from all over india flock to realise their dreams. it is that elusive land of el dorado which Ulysses had gone in search of. for millions of indians unsatisfied with their lives, nunbai offers that faint glimmer of hope that provided them sustenance in  the days to come. there was a time when i saw the pollution that is so rampant in mumbai. seriously, there seems to be so much pollution in mumbai that quite often i believe the species of human beings who live here must be the next evolved species of homo sapiens. after all, how on earth can the human beings who for millenniums have adjusted themselves to the free and pure air that can only be found in the valleys of the himalayas as of today,  adjust themselves to the highly poisonous air that we breathe in when we come to mumbai? today, however, i realise that this air is what we create, the payment we make to the devil for the comforts science provides us. no wonder then that it is said that too much power and too little control is the most potent formula for destruction. that is what we are -- a formula for destruction. so why blame a city? this city on the banks of the great arabian sea has borne much, to mention nothing about the sea of humanity that has desecrated its shores. for centuries this city has allowed us to pollute it, all the while patiently providing us with water, rain, air and the sky. we have tried our level best to cut down on all these resources and today when we stand on the brink of destruction we blame the city! the prodigal son hath not returned , yet there seems to be no dearth of reasons to blame the city. its time we sat up and took notice of how this beautiful city has not only been our mother but also a hero in disguise.

so much to do

so much to do, so little time to accomplish everything. i want to be the next tagore, the next bill gates, the next mother teresa, the next barack obama, the next great thing. i want to be revered in my own time and respected by posterity. i want to be the richest man on earth and give it all away to the poor and needy. i want to set right everything on earth and i want to love like only i could. i want to write poems that would drive millions mad, and i want to sing like kishore kumar and john denver put together. i want my mom to be as happy as she ever was giving birth to me. i want my dad to be proud for being my dad. i want to be on top of the world and only one lifetime to achieve that. is that asking for too much?

ai jani na

ami jani na, i know not
have you ever had those dreams?
the ones where you are naked in the middle of people you know..
i used to have those dreams quite often when i was a kid.
psychologists tell us that if you have those dreams
 you are feeling insecure and the people the reason
so, why would a twelve year old kid feel insecure and who would make him feel so?

that same person came back in my life and for a small time i thought i was happy
i knew not the storm that was lurking behind the calm
it hit me full force when i started having those same dreams
this time it was much more embarrassing and vivid
i have cried like a baby many times since,
every time bleeding internally and losing a little bit of the happy place that i had built
hoping some day to live in it, loved and alive.

IM BACK!!!!!!!!!!!

hi guys i am back... and it feels amazing to be writing again after such a long hiatus, and may i make a mention here that it was a forced one! unfortunately the internet here at NOFRA was down for thelast couple of months and i had little option of going online and typing... so i guess that i will be meeting you as well as myself on this platform pretty regularly again. i have here with me sitting right next to me a very old friend, Pappu. he was one of those confidantes who i would turn to every time i needed a sympathetic ear, and we have had our shares of tiffs as well. but what ship can be called great which hasn't faced a gale or two? so, it is that we have had our times, good and bad, memorable and not-so-memorable. however, the fact that he has come to visit me after four years of absolute no contact says a lot about our friendship. hope to speak a lot more tomorrow, but i'm in  a hurry to sleep today.  bye and see you all soon.

FORGOT UR GMAIL ID?

well there's nothing else to do actually. there are two ways to go about this. first, you need to remember your alternative email id that you provided when signing up. in case you do, just go to the FORGOT YOUR PASSWORD PAGE and type in the necessary email id. your password will be sent to you within the next 5 minutes. in case you have forgotten your alternative email id, there is one more option. you need to remember your security question. if you do, voila!! there you go.

but, in case you don't, there are some other options available on the net but i wouldn't advise using them. they are called keylogger software. if you type "break/crack/hack gmail password" in google, you will get access to a lot of these freeware. the way they work is pretty simple. they will keep a record of all the keystrokes you make and all the encrypted data like passwords can be extracted using them. however, this will work only if someone uses the account after the keylogger software has been installed. that is, a person with malicious intent alone will use such software to get access to someone else's software. which is why it is always safer to use the onscreen keyboard when you login to your net banking account from a cafe. these softwares can also extract the passwords that have been saved on your pc/laptop or has been used on them earlier. however, in case someone has remembered to delete the history and cookies files there is no option to extract that either. just a reminder, most of these keylogger softwares are malwares. they invariably have trojans hidden in them. so, even if you decide to go ahead and track your friend's, fiancee's or spouse's password you might be doing at the risk of your own data.
another very important fact that i learnt today is that if ever you sign up for an account based on an invitation from someone you do not know, the best idea would be to go to that site and sign up on your own and not from the link that was sent to you. even if you do sign up based on that link, carefully check every column for any pre-entered data, like alternate email-id, security question, etc, before you submit. cheers.

BONGS... :D

There are two kinds of Bengalis that we know. Probashi or Expatriate  Bangalees, a fairly large and diverse group and Bengalees who are from  Kolkata. This group is incorrectly known as Bongs, as they are merely a  subset. However, this is the only group which matters.
Gokhale said of them, long years ago, "What Bengal thinks today, India  thinks tomorrow."  To which Rene Descartes responded, "I think (today),  therefore I am (Bengali)." Like all other Nobel Prize Winners, Oscar  Awardees and most successful Indian cricket captains, Rene Descartes was  also a Bong (this fact is not known outside of Kolkata).
Physical Description:
The Bong has a large head, glasses, glistening hair and dark skin. Older  Bongs develop an ample stomach to balance their large heads. This happens  by the age of 25. They smell of Keo Karpin. The average life expectancy is
65 years. What is even more impressive is what they do in  those years. Outside Kolkata, regardless of weather, sex or age,  Bongs can be seen in their Monkey Caps. This is a must-have accessory  as well as a sign to recognise other Bongs.
Early Years:
While most Bongs are born with innate talents in singing, dancing,  painting, film-making, cooking or embroidery, their creative talents  are honed even before they can start speaking. Frequent meets are  organised between infants and their successful ancestors and other  relatives.
MA degrees (preferably from Cambridge, or at least from Presidency or
Jadobpoor) are displayed over the cots. The infant is exposed to the best  of Bengali thought - Marx, Bentham, Kalidash, Tolstoy, Chekov.
This increases the size of their heads  and the height of their ambitions.
Similar examples, though rare, can be found in European tradition as well,  as in the case of Mozart.
In India, however, Bongs have the sole preserve on such activity during  infancy. Soon, when they grow up a little, their characters are further  honed in the best of schools. Here, I am not referring to the St.
Xavier's, La Marts, Don Bosco's et al. They are important in the nurture a  Bong child  goes through. What is even more important are the schools the Bong child  passes through before school and after school.
Many a Bong child wakes up at five o'clock in the morning to attend  swimming classes. After one hour of swimming, he attends tennis coaching  before rushing off to one of the first heaven schools mentioned above.
School finishes by three or so, from where, he scoots along to Singing/  Instrumental Music/ Dance Classes, followed by tuition (in at least three  of all five subjects). He rounds off the day with coaching  on either  Debating or Quizzing.
Many a Bong mom, after the mandatory afternoon nap, will carry the child  along through this day, feeling equally energised with uncommon zeal.
This behaviour is again not restricted to Bongs. It is also seen within  kangaroos in Australia, who rush along from one clump to another bush.
Growing up:
Soon the Bong attains adolescence, doesn't find friends of his age  (since everyone is competing for the Nobel Prize or the Indian captaincy)  and finds intimacy in conversation in his/her parents or the poems of T.S.
Eliot and Pablo Neruda. When school ends, they move on to the good  colleges - St. Xavier's, Presidency or IIT Kharagpur.  The best of them,  though, move straight to Joo (Jadobpoor). However, in recent years, Dilli  (Stephen's obviously), is becoming the preferred destination for some  escapists.
In colleges, they decorate their rooms  with books or portraits of Robi  Thakur (Tagore). On the opposite wall, they will have posters of  Che/Maradona and Enrique Iglesias, thus expressing solidarity with Latin  American culture. All of them share equal interest in the Bong-Rock  (Bhumi, Chondrobindu, Cactus,Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple).
Later Years:
Bongs mature early. Critics have said that they grow old early, but that  is nothing but old hat. Years of toil and Eliot would obviously bestow  wisdom. The reason they look older is because the sole purpose of a Bong's  life is to win the Nobel Prize or the Oscars (and in recent years, captain  the Indian team). With great responsibility comes great age.
Add to it, the chlorine in the swimming pools  and you know why Bongs grey  prematurely. As far as their mission in life is concerned, they have been  very successful at it. Every Indian Nobel Prize winner has been Bong.  So  have the Oscar Awardees. And most succesful Cricket Captain.
And Bipasha Basu.
Once Bongs have kids though, their mission on life changes. The only  raision d'etre for them is making sure that their progeny achieves the  heights that they could (orcouldn't).  Hence, parent Bongs are mostly  found outside of schools, colleges and tuition classes.
Diet:
Diet is as important as Robindro Shongeet. There's nothing that a Bong  can't eat. However, they prefer protein over other food groups.
The largest source of protein for them is fish, then meat, and then mishti
(sweets) made from milk. More than fish itself, it is the knowledge of  fish which is coveted and enjoyed. Carbohydrates are tolerated if they are  deep-fried in oil or if it is an accompaniment to fish. Luchis (somewhat  like a Puri), Telebhajas (pakoras) and Phuchkas (Paani Puri)  are the  favoured source of carbohydrates. The young Bengali though, invariably,  always lives on a diet of Farex, Lactogen and Waterbury's Compound  followed by Horlicks in later years.
Mating and procreation:
A few Bong end up being in relationships, which lead to love marriage.
This is sometimes shown in movies and song. However, most do not have any  such social malignancy and end up marrying the woman of their mother's  dreams or men of their father's choosing. This results in mixing the right  genes for the next cycle of Bongs. Love marriage, by its very nature, is  random. It sometimes results is tragedy, like marrying  into another country (like India).Hence, it is avoided, wherever possible.
Social Life:
Adda, Robindro Shongeet and Cha. Repeat. Do note that the young Bong  doesn't have a social life (at least not till he wins the Nobel or gets a  Government job).
Habitat:
While you may find a Bong in other places (like occasionally in offices),  the best time to observe a Bong is in his natural habitat -the best of  colleges, the best of schools, the best of coffee houses. It is here that  he will tell you about Balzac while she will recite poetry with gay  abandon.
To mix in with the Bong, apply Keo Karpin to your hair and carry a jhola.
Hopefully, they won't notice your small head.  Do not worry about not  knowing the language, as the Bong likes being heard.
Famous Bongs:
Many famous Bongs have been referred to in this extract. Hence, this  section is used to debunk that big myth about Bongs. People believe that  Bong men can't be hunky. If so, then what about Abhishek Bachchan (via
mother,) Saif Ali Khan (via mother), John Abraham (via girlfriend),  Hritik Roshan (via grandmother). Which only goes to prove that Bongs are  good guys, despite their love of cracking jokes about every other  community but completely lacking the ability to laugh at themselves!

--

MY POEM

at times the pain seems unbearable
serpent inside my head, coiling around my temple
time ticks unbearably slowly, life is just not worth living
the sky is black like tar, not a single star to cheer me.

the veins in my eyes burst, blood blurs vision
i look at my hazy form in a mirror
only two red eyes look grossly back at me
i'm lost as i search for the right language to express myself
my heart bleeds incessantly, language irrelevant.

my throat is parched as are my insides,
thoughts come at random, like bolts from the blue
i wince in pain as they explode into recognition
i shiver as i realise that all is part of a whole

fear makes me numb even as my brain works frantically
as the small pieces start falling in place
the picture starts to resemble a horrible nightmare
my worst and, yet, now a a stark reality

colours creep into the picture from the confines of hell
my angel has left my side, hope has flickered away
im being devoured alive from inside my brain
i know not how to stop this madness

my fears have driven me to the brink of despair
it seems beyond my efforts to stop this nemesis from hell
i have  not given up yet, something tells me not to
life persists even after the worst storm has had its say
life persists on land that has been ravaged by fire

life exists on land that was blasted by an atom bomb
life supercedes all barriers we put in its way
scientists predict it will flicker away someday
some billion or trillion years later when the sun will explode
yet, i prefer to believe that life will endure
maybe as a microscopic speck at the other end of the universe

it is from life that i draw my ultimate lesson
i know somewhere deep within me lies strength
the strength to overcome this fiend in its worst form
it is that strength which i seek now

i search all around and within myself
i have got to save my save myself and my angel
from this mutating disease that is me
i clutch at every straw that comes my way
i seek mercy from god, whom i've ignored until now
i seek mercy from my stars, in whom i had no faith
i seek to impress myself with the lesson of other men

it is the demons within me that i need to conquer
i know even as i persevere, i shall find truth
i need to see through this storm and my angel awaits me
with a smile on its radiant face and a twinkle in its eyes
it will take me into its arms and peace will be mine
like a foetus in its mother's womb, i will be free of my troubles
i sail towards happiness in the arms of my angel, my DESTINY.

LSD= LOVE + SENA + DHARMA

I HAD WRITTEN THIS IN A LETTER A LONG TIME BACK.. AT LEAST IT SEEMS A LONG TIME BACK AND IS A RATHER FASCINATING COMMENTARY ON THE LONGEVITY OF PUBLIC PERCEPTION AND MEMORY. HOWEVER, HERE GOES......

the v-day might have found the Muthaliks and the Raj Thakerays of this world with their genitals in a twist because they fear to see the day when a woman will come up and tell them," get it up, you old fart !" for the rest of us its just another day when we spend some time to think of the one we love. but then its time we removed the cynicism from our system and accepted that any day that helps us to remember the ones we love is godsend and we shouldn't spend it cursing others or ourselves. before the year 1969, the church recognised 13 different v-days. guess what sort of a situation the Muthaliks would have found themselves in if that had been the case today! what with the uncultured youth of today learning all new ways to have fun, it would have been a riot if they had found thirteen different days to express their love!!!! i mean life should be like it was in the "earlier days"-- that is to say like they might have had in their repressed childhood. think of the glorious days when you could hang a couple because they thought that they could marry inter caste. and the kids of today think that in 30 years the world has changed so much that they can marry inter religion... i mean haven't we learnt anything from our beloved Taliban brothers or what?! see, they keep saying that the essence of all religions is the same. after all, both the Taliban and us are performing the holy rite of cleansing this dirty earth of filthy women who, of late, have begun to think that they can be equal to men. wasn't the hallowed position of a mother or the wife not enough? that's our culture after all to have all women act as mothers... we do not recognise any other form of the woman-- so what if lakshmi is krishnas concubinbe? only in this land of miracles can the semen of the great saints flow down our great mother ganges and impregnate our sati sadhwi  women. the saints never did anything wrong after all.... and to think of it who ever heard of our ancestors copulating?? its the greatest sin of all... should never have been discovered by man... and that dirty thing is never supposed to be done without the supervision of the old men (like Muthalik), who can advise the younger generation how to do it, although they, like their gods, have never indulged in such immoral acts.... the reason that such acts are condoned is that we need our great race to live on and produce more great men like the Muthalik... after all his mother must have had a virgin pregnancy. in any case, if the christian gods can do it why cant our esteemed mothers? marriage is the way that has been shown by our forefathers to keep the female species under control and the weak male of today needs to be taught how to use it well... why don't we ask the Muthalik to write a book, maybe titled "how to empower men- marriage". with all the generations of knowledge that remains trapped in the heads of great leaders like the muthalik we need to tap it for better usage... can we actually take his brain and transplant it in a termite and see if it runs to kill its mate? hope we have more men like the muthalik come up and enlighten our television sets in the future... i might even ask him to give a job to my brother. after all he does have a good sense of comedy... and, as a last word, those sculptures at khajuraho aren't authentic after all, i have been told in the strictest confidence by the muthalik... they have been tampered by our british rulers during their 200 years here. those sick, perverted men added the genitalia and removed the clothes from the deities who were actually performing holy rites!

IN VIEW OF THE RECENT UPROAR OVER THE RESERVATION FOR WOMEN IN THE PARLIAMENT, I GUESS THE NEED FOR THE LALLOO YADAV CLAN HAS GROWN EVEN MORE ACUTE. AFTER ALL, THERE AREN'T MANY MEN WHO CAN LIFT THE GAUNTLET AND PICK UP THE CUDGEL IN THE FIGHT FOR MEN'S RIGHTS.  I AM NOT TOO SURE WHAT TRANSPIRED IN THE PARLIAMENT UNDER THE GARB OF EMPOWERMENT OF WOMEN WAS ACTUALLY WHAT IT SET OUT TO BE. IN FACT, I'M PRETTY SURE THAT IT WAS SMART POLITICAL MANOEUVRING ON BEHALF OF THE CONGRESS LED GOVERNMENT MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE. IN MY OPINION, IT WAS MORE OF A CASE OF OILING THE WELL OILED HEAD. ONLY THOSE WHO HAVE ACCESS TO POWER SHALL BECOME MORE POWERFUL AND THE POOR SHALL GET MORE POWERLESS. EVEN SO, IT MAY STILL TURN OUT TO BE A RATHER PATH BREAKING STEP THAN WE EXPECT IT TO BE.

LIFE IS LOOKING UP

hell ya! thats the way they say it in yankeeland. in my place they say, "mar diya kella". well, there is sufficient reason for me to be so happy and perky. my dad is retiring today, the last day of a memorable career. he has worked tirelessly as a teacher for many years and as headmaster and administrator for the last few years. i might be biased when i say that he could have done great things for himself if he ever wanted to do, but i somehow feel that i'm not too much off the mark. he never had the drive to achieve those things for himself though, the eternal story of a comrade from bengal. he was born the fourth son of gopiballav mazumder and annapurna mazumder in a remote village called gangarampur. he had eight siblings, three brothers and five sisters. typical of that generation the concern for birth control was simply non existent and so were the means. at the risk of sounding blasphemous, i would like to add that if anything should have been invented a little earlier it should have been the CONDOM. today we sing songs about condoms, yet, just two generations before my grandfather sired nine children! anyway, coming back to my father, he grew up in that small village the first few years of his life. his family wasn't exceptionally rich although they were zamindars prior to independence. the reason prima facie is that my grandfather, a well known leader of the zilla congress and a freedom fighter, was a very rigid man when it came to toeing the line. the government diktat was that every individual could own only a certain amount of land and no more. this was done to make the distribution of land equitable in a country which was notoriously lopsided as far as division of wealth is concerned. however, the fledgling government could only issue diktats, and not much more. there was no system in place to check the corrupt from hoarding huge amounts of land under false pretences. my grandfather was one of those men who gave away all his land just because it was the rule.

so, although they weren't exactly poor, they weren't very rich either. my eldest uncle was raised by my grandfather's brother. he was many years older than his youngest brother. my father was eighth in the line and grew up more or less in that rural setting. he, however, left home at the age of eighteen after having finished schooling. it was the difference of political ideologies between the my granddad and my dad which led to this situation and this difference was never resolved till the granddad's death. my father respected his father very much but could not compromise with his political ideologies either. he was the first breed of communists of Bengal, one of the first batch of men who dreamt of an equal world. Bengal was tumultuous place in his youth. the faith of the masses was slowly shifting from a dilapidated congress led by the flamboyant siddhartha shankar ray, who had more interest in leading the nation than taking care of Bengal. Bengal witnessed many bloody riots and massacres in the 70s. food was scarce and drought was the danger that drove millions into a frenzy. the world has borne witness to bloody battles wherever communism has taken roots. Bengal was no exception. people were shown the dream of a better future, an equal world, and the lure of a good life. it was the opposite of george orwell's 1984, and the propaganda machine that the communists had was efficient and powered by fanatics. my father was one of those men who dreamt of the dream and lived the life that a comrade takes pride in. he lived in hiding and fought off many threats to his life. it was during the years succeeding his college days that saw him rise to the forefront in the local communist leadership.

it was then that a happy chance brought my parents together. my mom was a rather beautiful young woman who was known all around the district for her intelligence and aptitude. she had topped the board exams despite being bed ridden with typhoid and later with chicken pox. she was slated to join science and become a scientist. however, her headmistress decided that she had too good a flair for teh english language to be wasted on science. so, english it was that she took up. she came to the same college where my dad had studied and was now the president of the students' union. they fell in love and married within six months of meeting. it was his love for my mom that made my dad leave politics. i guess he may also have been disillusioned by the turn communism was taking in india and may also have foreseen the sad state of affairs that were to befall. he remains an ardent supporter till now, but age and the state of affairs have robbed him of the strength of his conviction. he does not fight over the right path of communism any more but chooses to be a silent spectator.

he joined halisahar high school as an assistant teacher of chemistry and continued there for many years. it was only when i was in my class ninth that he decided to apply for headmaster and qualified as the headmaster of kataganj gokulpur adarsha shikshayatan, the largest and most prestigious school of its area. like i said in the beginning, he could have scaled many peaks if he had chosen to, but he was a man of that generation which sadly is no more. they were satisfied with little, the hunger for more had not afflicted them. call it consumerism, call it evolution of the human race, he was perhaps a man from a different era. men of his ilk chose to ignore the frivolous luxuries of life and concentrate on the bare necessities. there have been many students who have received free coaching from him because he believed that taking money for private tutions was akin to stealing. like i said, his generation exists no more, at least not where i live. so, today when i see him retiring as a satisfied man, a man who may not have left behind too deep an imprint on the sands of time, but a man who knows that he did his job diligently, and, hence, the satisfaction, all i can wish for myself is that many years later i can achieve the peace that he has. he isn't just my role model but the gold standard by which i shall measure myself every step of my life so taht i never go astray.

BTW, i gifted him a golden retriever puppy. they were both very angry and shocked at the gift but i just knew that that cute pup would win over them in no time. now i hear that my mom is considering buying diapers for the dog! yet, they still crib about who is going to take care of the dog! :)

BHALO THEKO THAKUMA... FARE THEE WELL GRANDMA

CONTINUED FROM MY LAST POST...........

he refused to leave his village and there was no way that my dad could leave his job and go back to the village. so it was left to barun uncle, i call him kaku, to take care of him. barunkaku did manage to extract the only thing he had left, his house, but took care of him till his last days. after all barun kaku isn't a man of great means, and he needed that house more than the others. my mother always shared a great bonding with my grandmother, the two women recognising kindred souls. one one hand was a pragmatic woman who spoke little and strove hard to never come in anyone's way, one the other hand was a scatter brained, yet, fiery young woman, who would take no slight lightly. somehow, they struck a cord and i have seen my mom share great moments with her mother-in-law. this, in spite of my grandfather's dislike for my mom. so, after my grandpa died, my parents really wanted my grandma to come and live with us. she, however, was far more practical than them, she realised that she wouldn't fare very well far away from her village which is the only place she had known for years. besides, she also realised that she needed care in her advanced age and that would be difficult for my parents to provide, since they were both working individuals. on the other hand, barun kaku's wife was a housewife (a home maker in today's politically correct terms) and she would be able to look after her.

it was in gangarampur she spent the rest of her days and today morning she breathed her last. i haven't really been the best grandson she could hope for, but then she isn't one to complain. she, even when in delirium, recognised me and always had a soft word or two to say. somehow, the tears don't seem to come that easily this time. yet, i know i am going to miss her. its probably for the best that she died, because she was suffering so, but still the heart refuses to let go. i wanted to see her one more time before she left and now i don't have that chance. now, the tears are coming and its a relief. i worry for my dad though, he loved her a lot. i wonder what it would be like to lose my own mother, the woman who is responsible for everything i am. i don't really know who i am crying for, her or me.

BHALO THEKO THAKUMA... FARE THEE WELL GRANDMA

CONTINUED FROM MY LAST POST.........

my mother had lost her father when she was very young and my grandmother, a formidable woman, had brought up her four daughters on her job of a nurse. it is not just a commendable effort but also a herculean task as any single mother will attest. the fact that all her daughters grew up to be the women they are today are a testimony to her fortitude and hard work. my mother was the second of the four sisters and the most brilliant of the lot. she was not just good in her studies, but also an accomplished actor and performer. she could well have gone on to the stage were it not for the fact that she just didn't have the drive for it. today when i pride myself in taking part in quite a few stage performances in my time, i know its my mother's genes that i am carrying. people who she dominated in stage competitions and performances in her days in school and college are household names in bengal today, and i sometimes feel that were she born today, she might have gone on to grace the silver screen. she had the sweet beauty of the innocent bengali woman that has all the film industries of the country in a thrall today. in fact, i think that my dad had made quite a catch in her when he married her. she was an eloquent speaker and a great performer, one who has been praised by the likes of Rudra Praasd Bannerjee. today, when i see the likes of Kajal Sur and others rue the fact that she never went on the stage i feel inclined to force her to take up her vocation again. but the fact is, its too late. she had sacrificed her career and her vocation for her children.

my mother didn't go down well with my grandfather. he was a man who never gave an inch, and the fact that my father had married without his consent was unacceptable to him. the rift between my dad and my grandpa was quite evident every time they met. my father had left home because his political ideals never met any favour with my grandfather. yet, it was my grandma who suffered the most in the bargain. she had lost the son who was closest to her and took most care of her. my father the eighth out of nine children. they were five sisters and four brothers. my father being so much younger to his eldest brother was rather the baby of the house. yet, he always held his own in a house with a myriad tensions. it was he who took care of his mother and when he left it was quite a blow to the soft spoken woman. every time when my father returned home, i have seen the joy in her eyes. although, she never said much, it was quite evident that she loved him a lot. after my grandpa's death, she never grieved very loudly. yet, i have seen how sorrow can make a woman go weak. they were an odd couple to start with- she hardly educated and he the same. she preferred to keep quiet and let problems blow away, he preferred to take every problem by the horn. she was considerate and pragmatic, he was tempestuous and hardly pragmatic. he squandered away all his wealth and distributed everything he had among his sons much before he died. the next thing he knew was that all he was left with was his house and no one to take care of him in his old age. ironically, it was his two youngest sons, whom he had ignored in his donation of wealth, who came forward to take care of him.

TO BE CONTINUED...........

BHALO THEKO THAKUMA... FARE THEE WELL GRANDMA

i still don't know why the tears refuse to come. it's not like i didn't love her enough, for god knows that i loved her. i didn't know her enough and i wasn't always that close with her. but then she was the sort of person anybody could fall in love with even in the shortest span. i have seen her only a handful of times in my life. not like my maternal grandmother who lived 2 minutes from my house and i used to meet her every day, a number of times. she lived at the other end of the state, in Gangarampur. now, gangarampur is my village, the way we say it in india, woh mera gaon hai. although, i have never really spent more than 10 days at a strech in that village it still has its roots somewhere in my blood. i guess it has something to do with all those stories my dad used to tell us of his childhood of a place so radically different from where we grew up. every time i went to the village my dad became a new man. he was in his elements, so to say. he would romp around, clad in nothing but a wet towel and a pair of chappals. he would take that fishing net of his, he says they call it khapla jaal in the village, and go for fishing in the ponds. he would take the old cycle out and go around the village meeting old friends and acquaintances, catching up on lost time. he was lucky in that respect i must say, for when i go home today there isn't anybody i know, barring a couple who have remained. the draught of jobs in rural bengal, as well as in bengal as a whole has forced all the young men and women to seek greener pastures elsewhere.

it was on those short trips that dad used to make annually to the village that i came across my grandma. its very easy to miss her as she is one of the quietest persons i have ever seen. not once in all my experience have i seen her raising her voice or complaining about anything under the sun. besides she was very short too. at just 4'10", she looked really comical next to my grandpa, who at 6'4" towered over almost all who were present. they are, in fact, the most lopsided couple i have come across till date, and i have come across quite a few of them i must say. he was boisterous, to say the least, and as stoic as they come. he was unbending like the willow, even till his last days, which also soured his relationship with many people, including his progeny. he was one of the freedom fighters of yore who survived the ordeal. he went to prison during the days of the revolution and bore the scar marks to prove them. he was awarded with the bronze plaque by the president of india in memory of his great service to the nation. he was a staunch supporter of the congress party and worked tirelessly in his many capacities, starting from local councilor to party bigwig. many a story i have heard from my father, who despite his unresolvable disputes with his father never ceased to admire him, of his honesty and unbending faith in principles. he was a politician from a different time and mould, one that we, who are accustomed to toady's corrupt and self serving lot, find it hard to place.

it was the political difference between my dad and his father which led to my dad leaving his home after my dad had completed schooling. he left his village and came and settled in kalyani, at his uncle's place. it was in kalyani university that completed his studies and went on to become a prominent leader of the local CPI(M).it was also in the portals of this same university where he met my mother-to-be. theirs was a rather short lived love story. they fell in love one spring time and got married by the time winter hadn't completely left bengal. my mother was one of the most brilliant students in her region. she had topped the school boards despite being admitted in the hospital at the time of her exams. she was tuoted for great things in life and almost everyone who met her had advised her to take up science and become a scientist. women of her calibre were rare in the country in those days and she was slated to rise high. yet, there was one teacher, the headmistress actually, who felt that her favourite student was better cut out for arts and advised her to take up the arts. personally, i feel she would have dome great wherever she went, but science would probably have been the better option. you wouldn't realise it looking at her now, but domesticity of the past 27 years has changed her a lot. i remember the scatter brained young woman who had just got a job as as assistant teacher of english in a local school, and was trying hard to balance her job and her domestic life. i have heard innumerable stories of her as a young woman rushing to school, her saree only half draped and the pallu dragging in the dirt behind her. she might have done much more in a lab where she would probably have found may people of her ilk. even aftre forty years of wearing a saree, she still doesn't know how to drape that pallu so that it doesn't drag in the dust and dirt behind her. it is incumbent on the person behind her to carry the pallu, quite like a vassal carrying the hem of a queen's dress. she does look quite dignified today when she sits in that headmistress' chair, with her spctacles and all, and i think that her students and some of the junior teachers are actually afraid of her, but somehow i can't reconcile myself to that fact. she is still that sweet and scatter brained woman to me who dithers every time she has to make a decision and makes life all the more difficult for me.

TO BE CONTINUED...........

AMAN KI ASHA

i just went through shaukat siddiqui's magnum opus khuda ki basti. roughly translated it says god's own slum. but the translator named it much more romantically, "god's own land". now, that might be romanticism on part of the translator who, by the way, has done an amazing job on the translation, but the book in itself has no traces of romanticism. unless, of course, you are the types that links reality with romanticism.in fact, his novel has amazing parallels to some of our own great authors. take sarat chandra chattopadhyay for example. now, this novelist may have plied his trade in bengali, but thanks to devdas, he need no introduction to most indians. he is one of those authors who reveled in reality and his works brought out the contours of rural bengal to great effect. so does shaukat siddiqui in this novel. in parts you can actually get lost, almost like you were in a crowded room and you had no idea what you were supposed to do. there are so many characters spinning off in their lives in so many directions that all your guesses are bound to go wrong. its so real that its almost frightening because just like life you can hardly second guess what's about to come. the main protagonists go through an amazing number of tribulations and hardships and, yet, as is supposed to in most novels, their hardships never come to an end. the kind of situations they go through we, in today's india are hardly able to relate to, same as some of the situations some of the kids in slumdog millionaire go through are impossible to believe for the europeans.

that brings me to the most fundamental point in my blog today. pakistan is our next door neighbour and, yet, we know lesser about that country than we do about united states of america, for example. i am sure that almost 99% of us, if asked, would say that all they knew about pakistan is that its a breeding ground for terrorists. i am an officer of the armed forces. i am one of those men who people simply expect to know all about pakistan. yet, all i know is that it has 5 important ports- jiwani, gwadar, pasni, okhra, karachi. i remember that we were taught that pakistan is made up of the following states- punjab, sind, balochistan, north western frontier province(NWFP), and FATA(Federally Administered Tribal Areas). well, and i also know that most of the terrorist camps are located in FATA. and that's about it. yet, there are almost hundreds of ways in which we can read about pakistan, talk to pakistanis and see some of that country, online that is. however, to put it straight, we never will. we will go and find out that new zealand's indigenous population consists of maoris, who originally travelled from australia about five thousand years ago, after having made a pit stop at some of the pacific islands. we will know all the stories that revolve around the original invasion of the white man of the americas. we know how they fought with the red indian tribals and how many us presidents there were. we know which counties of UK Boycott and Beckham come from. we also know all that is there to know about the great lakes of Scandinavia. yet, we know nothing about our next door neighbours. i mean, that i know that those countries provide us with a lot of employment and its bread and butter for some to know all that stuff. its also true that our media gives us so much more exposure to the western countries than pakistan.

yet, is there a little more to it than meets the eye? i am not trying to suggest any conspiracy theories at any cost. but the fact that no pakistani channel is ever broadcast on our cable television (by the way, is there more than one pakistani channel?), or anything other than how the pakistani government is trying to sabotage our best efforts at peace. i bet that's exactly what the pakistani people get to hear from their government and media? but what's the big deal with having a free democracy if dont get to see whats the reality? for that matter, we should get to read more pakistani authors in our school texts, authors like shaukat siddiqui who can give us a whole new outlook on that country, make us realise that ordinary people with ordinary needs exist as much in that country as they do in ours. we should get more exposure to people from that country so that all the mistrust and confusion are dispelled. it might also be a good chance to for us to realise that we have much more in common than some caucasian half way around the world. all this makes me realise that this recent venture at peace between the two neighbours isn't just an exercise in futility. its much more real, and is very important for our future. who knows if we learn to trust each other and get our own house in order we might be able to share a lot more than some cold vibes over the non-selection of pakistani players at IPL auction. who knows it might even pave the way to newer frontiers being scaled.

by the way, bipin your community aman ki asha is as great an idea as any other. good show.

THE TOOTH DEMONS ARE AT WORK.... AGAIN

i have had a lot of my prejudices removed over the last 48 hrs.by that i mean some of the most fundamental of my prejudices are now altered. like they say, we are but an amalgamation of our experiences and our conceptions are bound to alter as we come across newer experiences. now that i have spouted that whole load of garbage, it seems a remote possibility that someone is even going to go through the rest of my blog, given the average attention span of an ordinary individual today is far less than 60 seconds and the plethora of options available on the net. anyways what i have been trying to say is that i am in extreme pain. and this not the sort of pain that you can sozzle down with a glass of whisky. when devbarna left me for another guy or whatever reasons she might have had, i at least had the drink to seek recluse in. if there wasn't any shoulder to lean upon and pour my sorrows out, i could always hit the bar and drown them in 3 glasses of vodka mixed with sprite, a pinch of salt, a dash of fresh lime and a piece of green chillies. in fact the small eats that our naval bars prepare to go along with the drinks made the sorrows quite enjoyable at times. you could just recline on that sofa and look at the waves rolling up the beach, hear the wind serenading through the coconut groves and suddenly you weren't at the well manicured lawns of our naval mess any longer. you could float up in the dark sky as long as you wanted to, or at least until it was time for the bar to shut down.

yet, then, i felt as if this was the worst pain a man could feel, and it made me quite antipathetic towards women to say the least. what i did not know was that it would pass, leaving me wiser and more circumspect in its leave. next time around, i wouldn't invest my love so casually, would think thousand times, rather million times before trusting anybody completely. it also made me realise that life isn't really a bed of roses. good things don't necessarily happen to good people just like bad things happened to good people as well. however, the most important lesson was to keep looking out for my own vantage point, even in the most intimate of relationships, for the games never end. now, however, I'm in a completely different sort of pain. a pain that won't completely die down under the influence of the powerful painkillers that my doctor has been prescribing me. only those who have ever had a sever toothache can fully commiserate with me on this topic, for the rest its time to garner as much knowledge about this dreadful pain and keep the lessons you learn in mind. it was my laziness while brushing my teeth in my childhood coupled with lack of proper medical advice that has led to this state of events. i never used to brush twice in my childhood. its easy to pin all my troubles to that one reason, but as i have come to realise over the last few weeks, things are seldom what they seem. so, no matter how mant times my mom tells me that its all because i was a lazy bum, its more than that. its simple, why do only my molars tend to rot when the canines and incisors are all right, when they have all received the same treatment? its a basic fault in the structure, when, the milk teeth fell out and newer teeth grew in its place, they tended to grow at odd angles, leaving odd crevices in between them. its kind of like two rocks jutting at angle, allowing moss and grass to grow in between which the inclement weather cannot touch. same way, the bristles of the toothbrush could never reach these crevices, leading to deposition of food particles and the rest, as they say, is a very painful history. proper medical advice in time, to take out a tooth here and there would have prevented this state of affairs.

i haven't really slept in the last two nights and even as i write, my jaw keeps throbbing on and on. saturday morning i reached the hospital and told surgeon lt cdr jacob how bad the pain was the night before. he. as is his wont, tried to take out the temporary filling he had made a couple of weeks back and get to the root of the problem. that, however, wasn't meant to be as the sensitive tooth refused digging of any sort. so, he said, " as a last resort we will have to extract that tooth. but, for now, i am going to put you in a dosage of antibiotics and see how it goes for five days. you see, its not the root which is the problem. the bone below the root has got infected and the pus that has accumulated there is what is causing you the pain." i thought with the painkillers the situation would be a lot more bearable. how wrong i was! it pained me like a drill was being driven through my brain all night and no amount of painkillers could do anything. so, here i am now, trying to tell myself that i should wait for another night and wait for jacob to get back to office because if i go today, another doctor who does not have much of an idea about my case would be trying to take care of the situation. well thats about it for now. see you until next time.

BETA SHAADI KAR LE

yup! those dreaded few words! they havent been uttered by my parents as yet, but the rest of my relations have already started pratting that line with unnerving consistency and sincerity. its as if i was the last man standing on earth and the future of the human race depended on my capability to procreate, the moot point being that i am wasting precious sperm everyday and it wouldnt be long before my suppy ran out and then the human race would be doomed forever. when confronted with situations like these i feel quite helpless, as i am the sort of person who refuses to grow up. as you may have well derived from the name of my blog that a trait of juvenile bonhomie threads all my thoughts. its this childishness that i strive to protect and nurture and it is this childishness that is under threat from certain quarters. after all, my last girlfriend dumped me quite ceremoniously just a month prior to our marriage just because i refused to grow up, or something to that effect.

even as i look at all the girls who were with me in school i am hit with a metaphorical hard and blunt hammer. almost all of them are married and settled. a few of them even have kids. i mean, come on, i am only 25 for god's sake and is this the time to be changing the nappies of two bawling kids? i mean, isn't youth the best phase of one's life and isn't it supposed to be enjoyed while it lasts? i certainly feel it is, more so after i was rescued fom te brink of marriage by Fate. that incident opened my eyes to the dangers of what i had recklessly tried to commit and i realised that life is too precious to waste away tied down by the fetters of marriage. that is all for when my bones grow weak and my flesh goes soft. its for the time when my hair turns white and my teeth fall off, not now, not when i am enjoying myself so much.

this also brings me to write some words about annie, that huge and jolly woman i love so much and who has been the constant source of mirth and happiness to all who have known her. she is a sort of a human sledgehammer. she knows no reason and simply does things because they are there to be done. she is the human equivalent of the fountain of infinite joy. she was my class mate and one of the most amazing women i have ever known. she had no inhibitions like the rest of the girls did, spoke to us guys in our own language and could kick harder than any of us could. she had the constitution of a pit bull and the joie de vivre of a thrush. i have always bonded best with women who do not keep hidden agendas at the back of their minds, that is to say they are more akin to men than women. if she liked something she was always the first to say it, and vice versa. she was huge and a walking tub of fat. that made her the butt of constant jibes and comments from the rest of the guys. she was not in the least put off by it, choosing instead to crack more jokes at her own expense than we could, thereby taking the sting out of the whole joke.

she had lost her father quite early in her life due to the continuos political battles that have ravaged bengal since 1970s. being raised by a mother who had to devote more time to nursing sick men than her own child added two dimensions to her character. she became independant and at the same time didnt grow the ususal inhibitions that a woman in our society is supposed to grow. she was fairly brainy and did pretty decently in her exams. she was a good painter though and occassionally used to bring snatches of her work to class. after finishing school when all of us were trying to get admission in some engineering college or the other, she did the same. she gave up an opportunity to study english at st xavier's college and chose to study electrical engineering at some obscure corner of bengal. like i have already mentioned, she didn't follow the usual stereotype of a woman. it was there she met her future husband. true to her sledgehammer nature she lost no time in getting married to the very tall and handsome young man. the next three years were marked by the birth of two cute kids, the first a boy and the second a girl, interspersed by a miscarriage. when i went home this december, she had just given birth to her second child, a daughter. i was not just moved, but dumbstruck at how happy she was in life, defying all my expectations.

even at a time when i am still thinking of enjoying my life going to discos, pubs and roaming around, she has settled down to family life. even when i am pondering as to where to invest my money, she has already invested in two most beautiful kids. in her, i salute all the spirited women whom i have encountered in my life.

let the whole world cry

its the dead of the night and the stars have dozed off  to sleep
only a few stray vigilantes remain awake,
like long lost souls with nothing else to do
they keep me company in mute cremony.

they are the ones who know all and see all
messengers of a formidable force, time
they see all the drama that unfolds under the night sky
and whisper their tales to the prostate, sleepy roads.

the trees are lonely like doomed boats out at sea
they lie in the midst of multitude, yet, alone forever
when the night is deep and dark as the bottom of my heart
when no light but the fire in my eyes and mirth of the stars shine
when even angels fear to tread, they call out in pitiful murmur
whispering their painful stories to the treacherous wind
who shall carry their sad stories to far and wide lands.

very far, across the roaring waves, a lonely oarsman struggles
Neptune himself shall not thwart him today for his love awaits
yet, cruel is the game destiny plays, for its Medusa that awaits
in the garb of Venus she beckons the poor man closer
until he shall have a heart as cold as she and never love again
let no bards sing nor flutes play for pain awaits us all that love
the treacherous wind, the roaring sea and the black sky can cry
for i shall not, never again,.

LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE

so many times i have heard of this statement, yet, never has this realisation hit me so forcefully before this evening. she came like a gust of fresh air and blew my mind open, well and truly. yes, she was so unpretentious that i am actually repentant about all my posts mocking women till now.well, it just goes to show that not all women are the same and some are just as good as some men are bad. she had no make up on, yet, a few days ago she was sashaying down the ramp in a chic gown, looking memorably glamorous, and generating appreciativelooks from all present during the navy queen ball. she was dressed in a simple shirt, blue jeans, and white sneakers, and seemd all the more pretty in them. she did have a ring and two beautiful steel bangles on her right wrist. the paucity of ornaments seemed to accentuate her feminity, and she looked simply radiant. her face wasnt painted, yet ,her cheeks looked like they had just been brushed with a pink blusher. there was just the faintest touch of pink paint on her lips and her hair was pulled back in an untidy knot. the only other thing that was feminine about her was the pink nail polish she had on. although they were bright, they werent glaring and it was easily evident that she had a fine sense of balance while dressing, choosing easy and accessible and combining it with just the right amount of feminine touch.

she has a mole right above her upper lip, something that makes her look a little bit more like the girl next door. but the best thing about her are her eyes. they are large, liquid and expressive. she can speak volumes through her eyes and it was just that which made it all the more interestin to watch her. she had the cutest expressions, the cute twist of her mouth, the wrinkling of the nose, the rolling of the eyes, the easy laughter and everything else which made it more fascinating to watch her. even as i dared to ask her,"why don't you become an actor?" she just changed the topic. clearly she loved her job too much and wasnt harbouring any dreams of making it as an actor. yet, i sensed some reticence is the way she refused to talk about becoming an actor and i guess somewhere she must also have stumbled on some roadblock. she says that she presently works as the head designer of zod! shirts and at 23 yrs of age that is a phenomenal performance to say the least. she loves her job so much that she works 18x7 and that is saying something in a world where almost 9 out of 10 people are unhappy with their jobs. i guess she is just one of those women who will remain happy no matter wher they are.

awesome link

http://www.flickr.com/photos/kuntalpaul.... link to grt pics of poush mela, bakreshwar, shantiniketan and the rest of birbhum.... hats off to kuntal paul... some great pics... refer to it guys

ONE NIGHT @ BAKRESHWAR

there have been so many times that i have wondered as to why i do not give up this rat race and go settle down to do something infinitely more peaceful, more meaningful and fulfilling, like working for the underprivileged children in the mountains or the remote villages of bengal. i guess thats just wishful thinking on my part because no matter how hard i try to fool myself, i am realist enough to understand that this rat race is all i know, its what i have been brought up to run and i will run no matter how much i dislike it. i would probably be lost among the men of the places where i yearn to be for its easier to be cunning than honest. anyways the one night i spent at bakreshwar highlighted two issues to me as clear as daylight. the first was the lack of actual government funding for the inner sanctums of bengal, leading to poverty, unemployment and crime. there were men standing in groups of 10-15 at corners just to ensure that cars were parked. if that many number of healthy men have no job other than parking a few cars over the period of the day, no wonder then there is an exodus of people towards the cities. if the bengal government chooses to ignore that fact then it does so at its own peril. bihar is a shining example of what good governance can do to a state. in the past 4 years it has become the beacon of hope that we have all beeen waiting for. it has a staggering growth rate of 11.03% in stark comparision to the rest of the country growing at 7.49%, and is second only to gujarat at 11.05%. if a state that has been languishing in apathy for so many years due to the negligence of its own sons can show such exceptional turn around in a matter of 4 years imagine what can be achieved over a much longer period through similar dedication.

its time we stopped shifting the blame and decided to own some responsibility at least.the states shift the blame to the centre and the centre to the states, the bureaucracy shifts the blame on the politica and the politica shift it on the bureaucracy. police look to armed forces to do their jobs and we all look to just earn a fat paycheck, and climb higher in that social circle. the economy has done wonders to our country. it has made a few businessmen the fattest cows in the country. almost all deals are made keeping their interests first. the middle class has really come of age and have a good life as of today and a chance to get into the next rung. its the poor however who are the real losers as little is ever done to assuage their needs. in bengal we have a saying, "tela mathay tel dewa". it means that everyone loves to oil the already oiled heads. however, enough of this cynicism. i cant help but think that at the end of the tunnel there has to be light, the people will realise in due time all the mistakes that are being committed. the dsamage to the climate will become more important than a few cash cows, the good of the masses will hold precedence over the best interests of the ambanis, and the people will see to it that no child goes hungry to bed and grows up illiterate.

bakreshwar as a place is really peaceful. like i mentioned in my last blog, it was the best of places where the bungalow was situated. when i climbed on the terrace, the view all around was breathtaking. there was no human habitation to be seen for most parts, only a few huts dotted the lanscape here and there. there was no noise, no pollution, no loud music and the air was like wine.i sad enchanted on the terrace until it got really dark. the greenery all around slowly dissolved as the sun went down and there was unmitigated darkness all around. however, a new sort of magic was already coming into play. you just had to look at the heavens and you would know why man in his primitive times looked to the heavens for all his answers. the night sky which under the brilliant lights of the mumbai skyline is almost non existent, foggy and uninspiring, regaled us in all its majesty in this little secluded place. the expanse was awe-inspiring to say the least and it seemed that infinite was just nothing until you witnessed this beauty. it was dotted with glittering stars which some ethereal seamstress had sewn on. it was like watching the grandest extravaganza of sorts and it took my breath away. my dad pointed out all the important stars and the constellations to me and i felt myself being transported back in my memories. when i was just a kid, our house was in a developing township called kalyani. it had hardly 3-4 houses as far as the eye could see and we used to take a farm cot out on the road and lie down to watch the night sky. dad used to identify all the important stars and constellations for me as i would lie, my head on my moms soft belly. it was like the years had been swept away with a casual flick of a magicians wand and i was till that kid watching that magnanimous night sky.

the coconut and date groves fanned a cold biting wind which seemed to suit the mood just right. small teemimg lights here and there on the horizon seemed bewitching and it felt like we had all been transported to some other age, some other world. we went out later in the night to have a look at the local market. i must mention here that my mom got some great deals in leather, wooden and other handicrafts, plus, we also had some pickle and decided to buy some more. when we came back we found out that my adventurous brother had cooked up a hare brained scheme. he wanted to roast a whole chicken over the fire and then have it. turned out that it wasnt that bad an idea. we got a rooster, some spices, cooking oil, an iron rod, leaves to burn and later that night we were sitting in front of a fire and having chapattis with chicken and potatoes and brinjal. it was just the sort of thing we should have had in such a place and the night was rendered more romantic by the appeal of the burnt chicken.

the next morning we had a bath in the hot water springs of bakreshwar. the water was hot and really served to unlock the joints which seemed to have frozen in the cold. even as we sat there with our necks immmersed in the hot water, there was a feeling of achievement. right after our bath we packed our things and set off for shantiniketan. there was to be only one stop on our way and it wa to be tantipara. the place where all the weavers of that area worked. they produce what is famous as bengal tashar silk, and yet, once again. what struck me was the abject poverty of these skilled workers. skilled workforce all over the world are supposed to be paid their weight in gold, but not here. they produce clothes of such exquisite beauty yet, they hardly earn much benefits. every single house had a loom, and they were all sitting and patiently working away at those looms. we bought quite a few of their handiwork from the village. at around 3 in the aftrenoon we reached shantiniketan. more on the shantiniketan story tomorrow.

as i was writing about the hot water springs, i remembered something quirky about women. although there was a sign there that said no women allowed, quite a few cam down to the men's side. besides, there were quite a few unanbashed women roaming on the side walk next to the men's side. now what does this tell you? the women had obviously come to dry their sons or watch that they dont dron in that 3 feet deep water. but no matter what the excuse is, would a man be let off if he wandered into the women's side? does this not stink of dual principles in the society? women have more shame than men, so dont watch them take a bath, yet they are shameless enough to enter the men's side? i have seen the same thing happen in aquatica in kolkata. the women and girls entered the men's changing rooms as if it were a free for all walkway. now for a pervert like me its welcome news that they wanna watch us. but arent there any self righteous men, who feel embarrassed? or are we all equally shameless?