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.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Monday, May 17, 2010
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.
Thursday, April 1, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
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!
--
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
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.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
LSD= LOVE + SENA + DHARMA
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!
Saturday, January 30, 2010
LIFE IS LOOKING UP
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.
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! :)
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
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.
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...........
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...........
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...........
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