Excerpts

Theres a string of stories.....and I am happy,ofcourse on the happier side of confusion. However much he says we will have to deal with it,I know that it means a lot to have dear friends around,who recreate the blue bright colour of the sky.
Gotta remember -for stories
a-the simple potion of a hug in a lovestory
b-my lizard buddy
c-the bong hater bong and the celebrity anjoli
d-sleeping under the sky because I finally found the courage to do it
e-before sunrise,before sunset-stories can be as real and blue n me have an unique story :)
f-the bad bald man
g-my unsung hero!

yipeeeeeeeee......the color of the day is happy lilac for all the times to come,happiness..please hold on.

Morning Manna

Its Mahaaastami!
Its a BIG day somewhere.
Lets accept the fact that caravan life is nice and exciting!
Lets accept hopeless romantics never die
Lets accept theres still lotza to be done.
And all these acceptances are there because the dove wanted it that way.
The balloons are transparent but still have lots of colors.But creating newer shades have always been exciting.
The smoke is here to stay but the sky is clear,spring comes unannounced like most other things in life but a warm welcome often ends in friends in the hearth of coffee and long heartfelt conversations.

Thunderstorms

The sky suddenly turned red.
The balcony smelt of the want to commit the sin of breaking free.
The wind was whispering naughty charms into the ears,it was just a saturday night!

There was some music that played within but did not reveal itself.
It was an invitation to a sudden beach party that couldn't be turned down.
At the same time there was the fear of death-eaters hovering around whose charms were
stronger as Lord Voldemort had instilled special powers;it is not his fault coz he wants to be the ultimate wizard,he wanted to own all the magic that surrounded the air,dark arts was just an excuse.

Finally it started.
One could hear the pitter patter thuds on the window panes. From there the noise grew wild. The rains finally touched the thirsty earth.
The Dementors and the Death-Eaters had vanished.
Harry,Ron and Hermione breathed a sign of relief coz it was just a dream. For 19 yrs Harry's scar had not pained,so alls well.

Soaked to the skin after a small stint into fresh air and open sky,one wonders how a small cloud burst can bring so much joy!
The call aint faint,lets start without the Invisibility Cloak,to explore what never existed.

6th October,01.20 hrs,Kolkata.

MICROSMS YELLING IN SILENCE

What has gone wrong is still unknown.
Being homebound all I can say is, I do not have stories anymore. I have run out of them.
I feel inspired but they do not inspire me to make the breakthrough and the series of events has helped me to reach the point that I am jinxed.
But when I am unable to sort the causal effect I am perturbed with the smoky thought that once upon a time I loved my home, no matter how difficult it was I always ended up smoking a few puffs in the canteen or down the oly stairs and life would be back to being simple.
Have I outgrown the love? Have I lost touch with reality? Or the aspirations have taken the humane being out of me?
Never did it become a shame to admit that life is mediocre, it’s a simple living, drinking moments, staring at the sky and weaving my dreams. Often when I encountered reality I faltered but I was happy with the learning it offered.
The simple pleasures of walking from school, bunking tuitions, playing pool for hours and then be penniless. All of this was adventurous. How was I perceived never made any difference. I was happy being a little off the track; often wondering how would it be if I could be a woman like the others around; and enjoying the moments when a few special people made me feel the instincts. I fell in love with history, poetry, literature and different kind of people. It never needed to be recognized. I was happy knowing that the love was an inspiration to my own self. I grew up, fell out with friends, moved to the capital but it was my love for home that I came back (not to mention that women all around also made me chicken out) and then restarted another chapter called college. The three years just zoom passed and now it seems I was dreaming with eyes wide open!

There were these bouts of running away from home, to the mountains, to the sea, but I always cherished coming back here, to my nest where I woke up with no worries. I walked to the bus-stop and took the most crowded bus because I was always late and never needed to think about the crinkled clothes. There was no fear that time was running out, I was happy knowing I had all the time on the face of earth to create the ladder that would take me to the moon. I never had to keep the reins in hand. Could get sloshed and make a fool of myself. I could say anything and not worry about repercussions, I did what I wanted, and I rebelled but never had a heavy heart. I could lie on the Presi grass and say theres a world beyond this and I will take you there, get happy with a heartfelt ‘close dance’ with friends or sleep in the green room behind Derozio coz I was stoned outa my senses. I fell in love and out of it because my heart felt so, there was no calculation or speculation. I could say I wanted space, or wanted attention and the crime comrade ego would never seep in.

But all of this seems to be having disappeared. And to the extent that I keep hunting for them and they never seem to be coming back to me.
I am a perpetual moron and nobody seems to understand that.
I have no faith in words and nobody seems to believe that.
I am grey for months and nobody seems to acknowledge that.
Every moment I am made to feel like an absolute jerk (and these days I know I am one)
I do not have the opportunity and means to run away and complications seem to be the way out of inner turmoil.
The other day I described the phenomenon as the disease I thought I would never be infected with – Attention and Occupation seeking syndrome (read acute disorder)
I do not blame the disease. For I have never been not occupied. I always had some micro clue of how life will unfold but now I seem to have lost the enthusiasm for the same.

A geographic location was never an issue. I know I can stay anywhere where there is food for thought.
My home was always inspiring. Every where I would go when I came back, the city seemed to welcome me back with all the warmth. The Howrah bridge was a sheer delight. I never complained of the busy, polluted, roads. I saw the potential of recreation in them. The potholes seem to have stories of disabled administration. Poschimbonger Rajniti (the politics of West Bengal) was something one would look forward to. From Trinamul’s Mamata Banerjee or one DYFI calling for bandhs every fortnight seemed ok. It was a free democracy and it was a form of protest. I never thought it led to a day’s loss of revenue for the government of the state always had enough to cover up. The Bangali Adda was a sheer delight and I did not complain of the hours of human power it wasted.
I loved Tantra, I loved Someplace, I loved Park Street or the delights of Rabindra Sadan or Indrapuri Studio. I loved the hustle and bustle of either Gariahat or DumDum. I loved the solitary revelations beside Outram Ghat, I spent lifetimes with people I have not forgotten in the boats. I loved the regular rockbaji that randomly turned into long drives/rides by the Kona Express highway.
Now Tantra is disgusting, Someplace has become less of a music lovers paradise and more of a hep place to be,Peter Cat never has place, Radindra Sadan is always crowded, Garihat and DumDum seems to be more of an ordeal. Outram Ghat is frequented by all and sundry, rockbaji is not expected and the people have migrated. Even Kona Express highway is polluted!
I loved the crows and the sparrows that frequented whenever it was breakfast/lunch time, as if they were part of the family. I do not appreciate that anymore. I loved walking on my own through the lanes of the good old city but now the fear of being noticed and perceived have gotten a better of me.
The sense of never having enough is always taking its toll, right from the kitchen to INOX theres seems to be nothing exciting. The world is very small and every corner I meet people whom I do not feel like talking.

I am defying the laws of nature. (And not by choice, but by compulsion)
I do not feel attracted to anyone/thing anymore.
There’s is no gravitational pull and I am too lazy to say hello to the sunshine every morning. As much as I would hate myself but an ace critiqued friend’s words come to me more often, “I am disappointed with people, I know I have a lot of expectations from them” and when they are not met, I feel futility of existence. But here the story is more dismal.
I am 24, I am unemployed and broke and suffering from small intestinal cancer that has led me to superimpose restrictions of severe forms. I am confused about love, companionship, commitment etc. and do not know yet if I should give up satisfaction for money or money for satisfaction. Not to forget that right now I do not have either.

Of late I have realized that the only true companion in life is definitely nobody but Cigarettes. It is the only thing that does not seek long term anything. The more you inhale (u can read suck) the lesser it grows. You do not have the fear like in the case of unprotected sex, no issues about condoms, contraceptives or waking up to find you got sloshed and therefore horny and ended up in bed with the most unlikely creature of the human kind or the fact that you end up feeling that you want to be with this person for the next however number of times you have sex! Both of them are not just injurious to health but to mind, body, heart and soul.
As I write this I am atleast feeling good about the fact that sex is not the driving force as of today ;)
Coming back to cigarettes, they are very human in attitude but personality wise they predefine liberation. They die hundred deaths yet remain equally desirable. (And if not anybody else I know one Dumbhead is very disappointed to know how I feel about the lifelong companion.) But that is so true. Almost ideal, it does not expect and it does not raise expectation. How I wish the component s of the same could be transformed into something real! Wishful thinking. But atleast cigarettes make me think, I mean they try and stir something that I thought was dead for a while now.

So the synopsis of the story is there is no story anymore, and if I do not discover stories ahead I am going to rust, then will be infected by fungus, then will smell awful and then will be discarded. My dreams will die an untimely death. I do not know what can I do to keep them alive. All I know is a story has to be born out of nowhere and head to the Oscars. I will be the pathfinder and the one receiving the trophy, who said imaginations need to be real? Or who knows when reality seems like imagination.
The moron still is grey and hates making exceptions for smart ones!

2nd October 2007
16.49 hrs,Kolkata.

iNspirations

Bismillah

Its a habit of yours to walk slowly.
You hold a grudge for years.
With such heaviness, how could you be modest?
With such attachments, do you expect to arrive anywhere?

Be wide as the air, to learn the secret.
Right now you are equal portions clay
and water, thick mud.

Abraham learned how the sun, the moon, the stars all set.
He said, No longer will I try to assign partners to God.

You are so weak. Give up to grace.
the ocean takes care of each wave
till it gets to the shore.

You need more help than you know.
You are trying to live your life in open scaffolding.
Say Bismillah, In the name of God,
as the priest does with a knife when he offers the animal.

Bismillah, your old self
to find your real name.

I am looking for solace midst the greyy days and soulmate sent this.
I was talking to Sen and we realized sustaining the forever available inspiration is the real challenge and Soulmate again came to help row the boat midst the stormy sea.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all !
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honourably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

the dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

Rumi Lives on.

Below the Belt

I love new york
Just like the t-shirt says
The streets the shops the subways
The unimaginable meld of people in constant motion
Rushrushrush
Expressions colours opulence style
Grungeandgarbage glassandsteel
Old brownstones
Parks museums fire escapes
Wailing sirens stern faced cops
Warm greetings in elevators smiles and nods
Greasyfoul smelling restaurant basements
Brightlights brighteyes
Miniskirts and motorised skateboards
Office hour energy on the 4 train
Twilightzones on the latenight shift
Greysuits and blackdresses
Drunks on sidewalks
Open forthright resilient
Ambitions and aspirations sprawled in the sun
In centralpark
Streetcorner jazz packed pubs lonely alleys
Black net stockings and lipstick gashes
Uncanny weather forecasts
Yong lust groping in the shadows
Fifthavenuefashion and fuckfoul language
Spanking new sneakers on the way to timessquare
Hi! Howyadoin….getoffmyface you m….f…..
I just love it all.

An evening spent demystifying not so good photography but perfect packaging in Seagull Resource Centre while the weather was perfect for anything and everything.
Us, the 'small fry' s in the photography world constructively criticized the photographs at our heartiest content.
But definitely one could not miss the sleek presentation. We mused over the blurbs,the very first one is the one with which the post starts.
For me the shots were absolutely random,often raising the questions of limits to intrusions into privacy. Maybe it comes from the social side that limits my perspective with certain kind of photography but the feeling of the collection not having a story meant a difference.
It was elitist which is not something that an ad photographer can really help.

The photographer goes on to say how the black humour of NY made him fall for it instantly. He is an instant sucker for black humour! While on the other hand he goes on to say that its the excitement of NY that led to such shots where the concept of frames and composition ceased to exist. And it was his homage to the city.(And not to mention my love for Mumbai was at the peak all over again :) )
The fact that he acknowledged the shots were too random but since there is a need for 'artspeak' and every artist must have a statement,was NY below the belt, born!

And thats called presentation, the perfect blend of words and look.....kudos to the strategy of marketing-obvious cliches, as random emotions and love for the city.
Who says theres nothing around? Theres an element to learn from everything...always!
The photographer is Pradeep Dasgupta.
While I go and check the rest of his work to get an understanding of the man's work,
if interested you could also check pradeep dasgupta's work.




The image is courtesy Dear Sidd!

I Bleed

And I bled
I bled timelessly
You stood there, still. Far away
And stared at me with steel in your eyes……

I saw the gaze
And I saw I bled
You gnawed me with your gaze
But no one heard my silent scream
I bled
As I surrender
I barely hold my last breathe
Barely breathing
You watch me bleed
You gnaw me with your eyes

Frozen Time
Frozen thoughts
Frozen Feelings
And Frozen blood…..
I have learnt to live with it
The dark red clots, almost black
Cringed, damp, dead
I saw my old self
It has lost its voice
But it stands tall
Like the way you stand still and smirk
Like time never knew how to tick away

And I bleed; Its not red anymore
Its black, and the serpent is basking in the stream of the black, cold blood
Colours have lost their lives
But now I own the pain, n I still bleed
You will never see it
I have travelled to hell and I am still alive
Have felt how it feels to die
When you left me all broken
I have sat and watched you cry behind the sky

You hold the earth to live for a little more
But your craving is voiceless
Your soul is mindless
The love has gone deaf
And the lust has lost its way into shrouds of dormant corpses

Its my turn now
Frozen Blood
Frozen Thoughts
Frozen Time
My liberation has come with your treacherous death
My suffering has finally seen daylight!
My liberation has arrived
I lay bare
And I bleed, Beyond Time.

Somehow I know I cannot create poetry anymore….that hurts. This piece almost resembles stuff I would write in school! Sad but true, poetry is lost…..

17th September 2007

Dear Sam

Dear Sam,

Was wondering how do I write to you, where do I begin?

The earliest memories that I have of you is one specky woman in Pyjamas n T-shirt walking about the campus. I always thought of you as one of those types who would get to the library and not share notes with classmates. The stick conversation seems funny when I look back. I mean why would I get sticks for you; but there was a tinge somewhere that you were weird ;) that I guess was it.
Finally the lovestory began, by the sunset point at Kanyakumari. The smoke, the air and of course of our eternal favourite TQ! And how in the train we were actually like estranged lovers and then onwards there was no looking back.



With you I saw through the most intense companionship with Passionate Trust. From SBI and how we stood bare infront of each other, to the best Diwali gift ever to the tears of another woman in our lives…..n the sweet-salt tears that is here to stay because it reminds me everytime of the journey we had begun in the strangest of circumstances.

Then the next calamity stuck of 26th July. From Nagraj to B the string of incidents flashes by and I can see myself smiling. Strange things happen over disasters. Each day I have spent with you have been special. I have learnt to look at life differently. I have built a control over the rebel child. From Daman to “our gang” to Jinx to the hours of spending seconds and they getting the senti-sam signature….I guess words were/are/will be never enough.
From one Festival to Fiery Red Flower and finally coaxing me to believe in love and creating Calvin in my psyche to educating me to Rumi, Manto or History, Architecture, Religion or being with me to raise the toast to my first job or being the radar of the boat when the sea is storm struck, I do not know how did I live without you all these years.

In the last two years I have travelled and captured the country with you. There was only Goa without you and you saw how badly I captured it; I would not say I did not enjoy the moments that you were not around but in each of those times I have smiled secretly thinking how special would it been with you around  and you know what sometimes I feel it is just not about physical proximity, there is so much more to it. The moon outstretching its arms over the snow clad mountains in Kashmir, the riot of colours in the sky in Kovalam beach or letting the mystic clouds play with thoughts from the hostel windows. I never thought that conversations through all five senses and believing in someone even with the sixth sense could have been possible had you not been in my life.

I also wouldn’t have known one Shazz or one Shadan and most importantly found another Ammi. She has been another dimension of a parent to me. For that matter I would not actually have also accepted the huge mass on which I eventually rode in my life with the advent of a new year. I wouldn’t have not been able to get over the nuisances of Shalimar Bagh; I would have never been able to deal with the never ending restlessness etc etc….gawd please I have not become so good. I am still trying. 
From late night Bawaara Mann to TP by bandstand; it seems spooky how we have lived people together. I can never imagine making sense of two years of TISS and life after that had you not been around.
You keep telling me how I have changed your life but lil princess it is you who has changed mine, from one rebel I have learned to take a deep breathe and appreciate life as if it has so much to offer.

It is a phase where role reversals cannot get more accurate and we both know how everything seems to be trapped how the highs and lows leave their impressions and we keep sailing in our aimless destination. The parallels seem uncanny but the comfort zone makes every hurdle look worthwhile. The perfect combination as we said “u, me n Bombay” or maybe Kashmir, Kerela, Delhi, Punjab, Rajasthan but I just hope and pray every day maybe it will someday be different continents but one Gayatri 702 or a Miami penthouse will be waiting for newer stories to unfold.
So the resultant factor is every time the comrade–in-arms are together every aspect of life seems to be easy to deal with.
Often when I had been reading about Calvin and Hobbes I realized each time I read it each time their relationship is evolved and that is precisely what has helped me over time to atleast give shape in my alter-ego about the relationship we share.

The more I try the more I see myself getting carried away in precision of moments lived/not lived together. It seems a neverending saga and I wish to keep it as a never ending saga, coz some stories must not have an ending, what s awaiting next is where the mystery lies, and then there is of course the element of never having enough, of dreams and reality and the eventful unwrapping of incidents, people, emotions, and silences.
I remember how the other day I told you how I wish I would have met you in school. Then I do not know what else would have changed but we would have created another epic!

Anyways, it is crazy, how you have been the single point of constant relevance in my life and how I sit by the window teary eyed and smiling lips only to wait for time to give me yet another set of experiences that cannot be captured in words yet creates ripples in minds of two souls whose happiness and serenity lies in each others beings!
Love you and it has been long when these two words were not enough.

9th Sept 2007

The Beautiful Meaning of Meaningless-ness

I had been leading a flustered life and it makes me sick.
Beyond a point I also know it is not possible to talk, I mean how much can one keep saying when life has been taken over by wrong kind of restrictions and keeps me quite confined where headspace s also most sought after (beyond several other things)

On such a day I went out to meet an old friend who made lotza sense and it was good to see him expressing himself full throttle.
He imbibed a lot of enthusiasm about carving the niche and having the patience to do the same. All charged I knew there was no dearth of opportunities but at the same time the truth of stagnation and having the worst challenge in life to keep thee patience.
Then I met another friend whose life is also fairly screwed, over apparent and not so apparent reasons and then I began my journey of demystifying the beauty of meaninglessness.
We had nothing to talk about because we did know exactly each others state of mind, at the same time when we got to talking about other people we figured they were also screwed at some level whereas the tragedy lies in the fact that those ignorant ones little realized their weaknesses (please pardon if I am sounding atrociously judgemental)!
And then we started smiling, often breaking into illogical bouts of laughter. It was like overstating the obvious. And after a point it slowly started sinking into me that though we did not have anything to talk about, neither did we feel the need nor the obligation. It was not even remotely uncomfortable; it was like two souls we knew about their endangered existence as a species and inspite of that they kept wandering into nameless vistas. As time passed by we realized the meaninglessness that had created a halo around us. Gradually quite unaware of what it was we began to enjoy it.

Time passed by and in a café in Park Street we sat over almost three hours trying to unravel the meaninglessness which un-knowingly we both took a lot of solace in. When we try to argue (atleast I do) that communication is the best source to avoid confusion but often I was tongue tied because there was nothing more to communicate except for meaninglessness. In some form or the other at the highest level of frustration I often exclaim how meaningless life is! But as per all the maestros are concerned say from one Melville and Hawthorne, Nietzsche and Marx or very dear friend Kafka they all saw meaninglessness coming into their lives. The existence of this phenomenon has been described by many poets, writers, philosophers but largely there has been a morbid tone to it. It is said that meaninglessness creeps in when life is confronted with the ultimate question of about its importance, about its existence and pondering over the question leads to a no answer situation, or maybe it is very arbid to believe. Life at that point seems very pointless, cruel and a little mad! But what we do not consciously realize is the fact that it is this state of madness at different level of consciousness that inspires us to create.

While I was doing something as vague as a desk research on meaninglessness I discovered that most definitions would want to look at meaningless as lose of aim, or goals in life-over work, family, love, marriage or religion or maybe several other things.
The even more interesting part is to look at the philosophy of meaninglessness; and the way it is explained in several of the philosophical narratives; A sneak peek to the same follows –


Relative Meaninglessness

1. Disappointed expectations;failure to fulfill accepted criteria.
2. Discrepancy between established criteria and observable actualities;
based on intellectual information;existentially disclosed.
3. Temporary—lasts only until the discrepancy is corrected
4. Limited to a specific realm of meaning.
5. We know what to change to bring meaning.

Existential Meaninglessness

1. Frameworks of meaning collapse; lack of ultimate purpose in life.
2. Uncaused; discovered as a fundamental condition-of-being;
3. Permanent—no matter what we change, meaninglessness continues.
4. Pervades every dimension of life.
5. Nothing we can do will make life ultimately meaningful.

But to me the beauty of meaninglessness lies in the fact that it does not follow it a protocol, it does not have boundaries, or it has no restrictions. I therefore join the bandwagon of Satre and Camus who urge us to embrace our meaninglessness. They claim that life is better because it is meaningless and absurd. If there is no given purpose to which we must conform to gain meaning, then we can create our own meanings in the midst of meaninglessness. By rebelling against our Predicament, we create our own Authenticity.

So here I am, cheering away to the new discovery I made that meaninglessness is a very meaningful phenomenon and the fact that it challenges the logic of meanings and even probably illusions makes it another experience that has its sweet charm!
Till I walk the lanes of finding solace in meaninglessness of being occupied and enjoy such innovative evenings, Trublu, cheers once again.

31st August-11th Sept 2007

The Inspiration from the Idiot Box

There have been days when I have religiously watched the Idiot Box from 11-5,just like a working day and therefore this is an ode to the Idiot Box!!!!And definitely somethings that I thought of while I was watching it.

Indian Idol,one of the classy reality shows......the nicer part of the show is-there is no melodrama, the "gurus" do not promote their fanfare and films, it is not about a war,or propagating everything else but the essence of the contestants. Indian Idol is about young talent fighting their way through to carve a niche for themselves by becoming 'Bharat ki Shaan'. The look of the show is sleek and hats off to Sony/Meditech for the packaging. Its like a Nokia/Hutch ad.....a set standard maintained. And where there is someone as revered as Javed Akhtar and as upfront comments about understanding the psyche of the public,gender discrimination,regionalism......actually however much there is entertainment, the reality shows (if they maintain to keep up the standards)is actually a reflection of lot more than what catches the eye!The TRPs speak different languages in different mediums but I guess there s a judgement that I want to pass;This show keeps up the vision of exploring a singer who has a future to look forward to the rich musical saga of India.

And then I have to talk about this film I saw today,on the Idiot Box......Sunyo-e-Booke (zero in the chest-thats the exact translation) as u watch you realize its about a complexity of physicality between a newly married couple over the woman not having perfect breasts.
The story is of two artistes who fall in love and get married and on the first physical interaction the man feels cheated about the wife not having perfectly shaped and full breasts. He thinks he deserved to make an informed choice. The woman on the other hand had severed terms with her family to get married to this guy and she feels that she never thought it would be important to the same who said that the body is just the shell and Soul is the real identity. So there is arguments,set of ideological and creative clashes. The couple separate and the other guy who was not as good an artist looks through the skin of the woman,marries her and happily has a family with her.

The last scene was rather arty.
The Digha/Sankarpur Beach;the better artiste at his work and he encounters the child borne by the woman. And eventually the family. The woman still softly speaks words of rebuke and moves on the new path of emancipation. The man apologizes that drove me almost to believe that maybe he would live forever with the perfect breasts he wanted to caress but his instincts then have now left him with his awesome artistic abilities but devoid of real love and companionship.

It opens the several chain of thoughts, of physicality,sexuality and the mirage called perfection. It is probably much more than just a man-woman phenomenon, an artistes aspiration of love making and his frustration of discovering reality. Is there an absolute? Is it just about what lies beneath clothes?
From a personal standpoint life is not as complex as human emotions and as I received and sms the other day of silicon implantations, Viagra and questing the thirst of lust....hope we do not forget that the penis and the vagina could not have communicated had there not been the first spring tale when we met, when we first held hands, when we first kissed or when we first felt butterflies in the stomach to realize that Love knocked on the door.

To the ever raging debate of Love and Lust..someday,someway.

August 5th 2007

August Axis

At the onset it seems I have lived a decade, in the past two months however I have cribbed and complained, I have definitely got to understand myself better.
I am an emotional upheaval, a lot of people would say-tell me something new, and a lot of them would say-when were u emotional?
In both the cases I would not know how to react.

I remember the time when I was obsessed with Dumdhead, the day he left campus and I knew he is gone,that rage/let down/hurt still shakes me up(would remember Soulmate drilling sense and Quirk making ways to make me look at reality)and then when after a month long journey from heaven I was getting back to reality I met him again,only with the promise that we will never be mean to each other. And there after hundreds of times we have been mean, its only that his convictions have strengthened me.He had blatantly said he does not befriend the moon anymore,coz that would not stay on, n I also need to understand that as an emotional wreck!

Never paid heed to it and landed up in time and again in the vicious circle of being "used" because I was transparent, I was straight-forward, I was dumb. When I left school there was a series from friends to then turned foes;I decided I will play smarter when I get to college. Kept it up for a while and then the reins loosened and I was again taken for a ride,in between I had worked,trekked,fallen in and out of love, and therefore met more people,only to realize I am not as smart, I still fell for the pretense, for the feel good factor at the particular point of time, for I trusted.

College was over and I moved outa home.....fortunately this time I was careful but still closer proximities made use of me,very unexpectedly;I was quite shattered and felt disgusted with myself.....it made no f****ing sense to me,ever!Even till date,it does not. Midst that, old ties were still playing beach volley with my softly nurtured emotions of companionship/friendship/partnership and as I look back I kept falling,bleeding,nursing and again running after tender emotions. Its now that I realize it was like a mirage that kept attracting me to the illusion of being there for individuals whom I loved, at different points and different shades and somehow the intense the emotions and the complex the shades, the deeper the wound,the longer the pain. But call me anything but stubborn.....I refuse to learn from mistakes and take pride in being a dud!
Call it creative pursuits of understanding people or seeking inspiration from numb wounds,I was still at it till today. I make myself "at ur service" and forget about getting paid,I dont even feature on the payroll.Somebody who I know for a year actually has so much of RAM-page space that I drain myself and I am preached that I should get out of my draining habits!

And therefore I begin my August Axis! Where I refuse to be a victim of my own inane attraction to goodness, let the dark musing unleash for once I would pray they stay on,forever.I will try to dissociate with people at the valves pumping but keep it task oriented.
But on the other hand let me also not forget because of the same faith I have a bunch of glow-worms in life that warms up the nest with the glow of a connection that makes me run out of words,I am glad to have them in here. From the deepest desire to darkest potholes they have known all shades;they have given me the strength to liften me up when I cannot reach,so will never let the sun go down on truest and purest of emotions, I can only keep my guards on and even when theres beach tournaments I should remember my duty of a lifeguard for I will have to reach the surrealist goal of procreation.

Afterall - Dada n me has been seen as iconoclastic and confrontational...what say?

Snippets of the Senses.

It all started one day when I was coming back from some part of remote Kolkata and as we drove our way asking people about direction there was this strange phenomenon I chanced upon that never found space enroute the travelogue.
When I ask somebody about something (mostly directions), I make assumptions about the person. It can be either marked as judgemental or as intuition. Like when I am not sure about the destination I am looking for a ride where I know the other person-the cabbie, or the auto guy knows the way…..it is mostly a right hit and at crucial times I also get into the trap of people whose sense of direction is as whopped as mine.
It is just a reading of the person’s face and is quite an interesting exercise. And a lot of times it is quite fun because they not only lead you to the wrong lane or bylane but they also confidently tell you about every other road apart from the one you are looking for. On the sunny side the right direction comes to my way bang on when I am least expecting it. I was wondering what do I call it…..the phenomenon of understanding whether people know directions to my destination by looking at their face when I myself do not have any clue of that direction. Face reading would be undermining it, largely inappropriate. May be when I manage to finish reading all vocabulary books I would have an idea. But till date it has been an interesting venture, something that I have enjoyed thoroughly, and at times it has also led me spend a few extra bucks.

That was the sensation of vision.
From there let me narrate the immense sense of smell which has never been more emancipating.
Went to Olypub the other day and the smell of alcohol, smoke and the ambience of the space made me feel ‘wooaaahhooo, this is what life is all about’. And I could not believe that as my companion ended up on beef steak and beer I chanced on Nimbu pani! Now that’s THE example of self control. So I love Oly irrespective of alcohol. That same day I watched Die Hard, and the best description is that exaggeration becomes entertaining. As I was drawing parallels with it and the illogical Bollywood films (ignore the generalization) the film partner described it as “ultralogical”. And ultralogical is also the word for explaining the fact that even when we do have all the answers heading to doomsday the attraction is very severe. As I have had these series of conversations with a friend trying to draw the logic that certain emotional investments do not lead us anywhere I ended up having reduced parallels. Difficult to explain, but ya….ultralogical. But somewhere from the series of experiences I have come to believe trusting people is a highly risk-taking venture! We all have our set of beliefs and equations and that definitely means acceptance, denial, feeling great and feeling not so great. And as my convenient self would want to prove it I would do anything that anyone asks me to do as long as it is done my way! The conclusion therefore is Power is at the epicentre of relationships! This can lead to a series of debates and give birth to several theorems and several more to prove/un-prove them.

And then old ties were renewed and what was funny was after a prolonged absence of seven years it seemed very easy to have been back to being known strangers. I guess it cannot be like die hard friends again, and that is too much to expect maybe. There was a birth of some regrets but the naval fragrance had travelled a very long way, maybe for better, hope not for worse. Often in the madness of life this was the first time in a long time I wished I had paused, taken a deep breathe and waited to hear myself. And ya it was not strong enough for any one of us to have stood up for all that we shared. Strange thing called colors of life. And it was not such a nice feeling to know that I could hurt someone too with all my might. But then let bygones be bygones. Lets see if the new roads can be walked together. But at the same time I realized that with some friends who have seen you grow, there is a comfort level beyond explanation. It was like sitting with a book on a rainy afternoon, and the happiness lies in the fact that no matter how ever much you feel it is an old tattered book, the content, the familiarity and the bitter-sweet memories are the elements of inane attraction.

Chennai was another experience, of a level beyond comprehension to my own self. The self destructive phenomenon was at its peak and I felt uncomfortable about the wreck that I had turned myself into. There is soooooo much that I have to do, but the deadening enthusiasm or the killer procrastination had taken a complete toll. Nothing helped. It is not even that the enthusiasm s all back and life is hunky dory but it is not the wreck…..it is the silent vegetative state. Certain realizations definitely have kept me at an ease; For the Nth time I feel the romantic angle in life is miserable. Gawd how so well I know a settled romance thing is not my forte; everything else can change but the core ; ) and I cannot even say it with any conviction, one never knows what turn emotions would take.
The nicer thing was Soulmediam8 is back to Mumbai and suddenly she seems to be closer by, almost like she was; like every first time. I know things would change for her and with each time life will be different but the fact of solace in thoughts would remain intact with a few good men and women is probably the almost extinct feeling of certainty. The other grand feeling was to hear Fukcr’s voice after succchhhh a long time, like I had never felt such an upheaval of affection for him.

Midst all of this mayhem Dumbhead provides me with a lot of solace. The nicest thing about him is the sense of determination that he is filled with and I get a sense of certainty from him. Ya as Jyo’s post said about the end point, with Dumbhead you know there is no end. Thanks to the almighty for one conviction where I do not see uncertainty. I miss all the times when we could just not say a word, hug each other and walk through lanes of being opaque. Missing you…..and whatever…..
People definitely can be a source of anecdotes and at the same time there are often times when the same people completely make you feel wish you hadn’t known the human kind. We all are very mundane and clichéd, beyond a point nobody has variety and everybody is stagnating-ly annoying. In my quest to find the constantly interesting and engaging persona, I end up getting disappointed about the human kind, and I lead the clan. A dead vegetation, getting caught in silly nonsense of men fighting over women, adults not knowing what are priorities, and people endlessly whiling away their time over a never-ending whole of nothing. At one level over the weekend as I was happy to see friends reuniting, on the other hand I could see the inane desire of the actors to get back to the old rut. How very shady was the feeling to know of friends who lack sense of direction. But as my dear comrades would say, we live one life and we do not know the value of each second; so if we do not know what we are losing out on….just another experiential loss. You can help someone with the direction to the treasure during the hunt, you cannot get the treasure for someone else. And I refuse to do it from the August Axis!

As I am a self proclaimed contradictory persona therefore I would come back to the aspect of people again. Old friends….My anchor for life accompanied with the man in black n white was here, its probably very very easy to just slide down time and become kids again. The whole day I just laughed, without reason, and pain, in the evening things that I would never have done in the present day ‘image’ I sat and did that….talked nonsense without thoughts or fears of being mis-read! I guess we can do that in two circumstances. When you are in the company of friends who have seen you cry because you were not selected as the sports team captain or with strangers who know too little about you.
The strange thing about the nonsense was birth of a coloured love story – The orange-green story with a known stranger!!!!!
I need to now go and finish that lovestory that will be sometime be treated as a masterpiece in the history of innovation.

P.S - Was TRYING really hard to get a common link to this piece but still have not succeeded much….too many incoherent thoughts and probably makes no sense at large.

EnRoute

What a day after ages.....wasn't in an upbeat mood,thanks to the rains that seemed never ending.....after a long sleep caught up with trublu for Bong connection
The Bong Connection!
The film is the actor,singer,musician Anjan Dutta s tribute to Ray's unvanquished character Apu! Set in Houston and Kolkata, the film was upbeat and surely a nice collage of the Bong Brigade in both parts of the two countries.

Apu(Parambrata)is an IT professional who aspired for big and moved to Houston for a plush career and life,Kolkata was dead and stagnant for him. So he left behind his roots and his lady love. He discovered a whole new world,starting from Mexican goons to homosexuals to illegal immigrants to confused youngsters grappling with values.It was just in time he realized home is where the roots are,where the heart lies.Trust Parambrata to play the bhalo bangali chhele(good bengali boy!) with ease!

Andy(Shayan Munshi)is a musician from New York who comes to Kolkata to discover his roots and create music,from Someplace Else(the only pub in Kolkata i guess)to Advertising Jingles to Swabhumi to Shantiniketan, Andy explored the music he wanted to create.But as he would want it,it never worked out that way! And beyond the frustration of lazy Kolkatans he found himself caught in Family feuds and love unrequited.Chirpy,colourful,sensitive character and Shayan did a good job of it.

Rita(Pia RC)plays the probasi bangali girl,confident,bratish confused...this ex channel v veejay seemed to fit into the tee.Nothing very great about the character struck me except during her exit she was subtle and drove the point home.

Sheela(Raima Sen)is the girl from Kolkata,Apu's girlfriend who silently fell in love with Andy but did not say that. She believed in her roots very strongly and as a character Sheela was to die for! A very level headed fun loving girl who was modern and also valued commitments.And her undertone was definitely with a lot of grace.Raima needs no introduction about her acting skills.And full marks to the director for sculpting a character so good.

The cinematography of the film was good,in comparison to the earlier ones in the league,the art direction definitely had scopes of improvement and so was the light design,it was monotonous at several points. But ya the direction definitely needs kudos to the way Dutta did work around the humour element to this bongs delight!
The music of the film lacked freshness though a trilingual try for a score was a decent try.I dunno how Rabindrasangeet admirers and critiques would say about Pagla Hawa but to me it was a nice innovation!

Thats so much for the film, as a tribute to Ray's Apu trilogy it definitely had weaved in the time element.The fact that Soumitro was around did make a difference,for old times sake...it did stir the old loves! The fact that Apu returned discovering himself,mending ways and unvanquished,it made a difference.And got me thinking!
And then I met Sanjana and Aruna and it seemed I breathed again,breathed the smell of familiarity! Good old TISS days,they just seem marvellous.

Since the time I have been in Kolkata it is just plain frustration,I knew I did not love the air as much and often struggled with loyalty issues. Is it true we all return to the roots,is it true we all are so uncomfortable and lose our way midst all the green and yellow pastures in a new space? Well once again I am trying to remember old times and fall in love with homeland,adjusting,trying to crib less and be more open to the offerings as exists today!
There is so much that I have learnt from the city,school,college,friends,I mean the place you are born n brought up,there is just lotz in there.The first smoke,the first love,the first frame,the first kiss,everything.

Apu reminded me of Littlelight,we used to sit together in the ninth standard and do nonsense,thats how we became foes;we used to beat each other up and till about a couple of years back I had not realized our relationship had matured beyond the quarrels. We read and we talk the random language....I had thought none of these Science whizos from school would be remotely interested in the random-ness,which interestingly he is. Littlelight is an ardent critique.Anyways,drawing parallels between him and Apu was just because he has gone for a project to US,NY,also I fairly got an idea how homesick he also might get;but he does not think Kolkata is dying,he thinks its reviving and would always want to come back here,unbeaten!And compared to that I have not really missed Kolkata,after a point I thought and still think Mumbai is the place but thats what I had thought about Kashmir,or Dehradun.

So basically no matter how this city reminds me of the first rooftop rain or milieu and paras pathor n discovering a new chapter through that,no matter how I think I would runaway to Mumbai,its actually that I am a traveller,so I cannot have a space that I can call my own space. Or lets say I do not have roots,I was born somewhere,I grew up somewhere else,I discovered myself somewhere,I found love somewhere and then I realized there was nowhere I really belonged!I am struggling to find a niche,even where I have grown up.I hear voices often of places where I want to be,but it does not happen that way.What happens is hoping desperately for the time when one can severe all that is known,the so called social system that I am a part of and just live an alienated life,exploring,meeting people,learning and creating.I do not want to be responsible,for things that are not valued. I want to live my life where the place I am in is mine,its not a Bong connection but a connection that gives me the next clue enroute the dream I have been looking for.

Cancer Vixen’s Life in a metro!

This piece of work is an emotional outburst inspired by Marissa (Cartoonist with New Yorker Times!) and Anurag Basu (Filmaker from Mumbai)

At least now I know that my autobiography will fetch me quite a lot of money! I am almost on the fast-track, soon to have some thing like motorcycle diaries!
There r some lumps in the intestine that are cancerous in nature.
Well my cool attitude did not work! As in Mumbaiiya I would say ‘Phaat gai hai meri’(I am screwed). The day I gotta know about this I was stoned. Different people had different reactions, n today I cannot handle people who love me go through the whole deal of anxiety. And it is first stage and curable. So why worry? On the second layer…..What are my panic points? What if a surgery, not coz of the surgery but the radiotherapy/radiation that will follow!!!! And the several anxieties, I am at the onset of a wonderful worklife, I haven’t lived with parents in a very long time, so haven’t been answerable. I have not earned enough money to have saved so when I get home I am broke! And I have been very active for the last three years, no lulls….l love drinking, smoking and red meat. And all of this is a complete NO! There is still no verdict to sex yet, but one never knows what is the next step in store! And Sash for giving me the brighter side of the story said, think about it, u would be completely detoxified and therefore glowing with inner radiance! Ya Right, even she knew what she was talking about!
So is there practically anything I need to worry about? Yessss! I will be jobless, sick, and may become ugly soon after the radio! Then what? All my x,y,z fashion statements are down the drains  Not that I am some chhammak chhallo but for the presentably cool quotient…. That’s worrisome. My newly done hair colour, my essentially interesting wardrobe… (sniff, sniff) and of course the whole worldview changing. Why was I the chosen one? Seems like I have not had enough!
Ya, I m feeling pathetic, when off late the panic attacks happen and then my mobility is gone for a toss it is bloody depressing!

Life in this city has been like a dream. I guess I will have to give it to Toxic Bachelor and the never ending discussion at a café in Kolkata that does not exist anymore, I had landed in Mumbai. Being in the city under the guidance of whizos like NRG n Mesho was a revelation! Mumbai was raindrained, under tulsi pipe lives were struggling to exist and I land up in the 24 n ½ floors in Marathon Heights n then the next one week I had lived the crème of the city and started my journey into Buddhism. The next living space was a friends place in Navy Nagar and my first brush with the lifeline of Mumbai, the local trains….wow! Even today I am amazed at the number of people who commute. And the trains have been the first traces of all kinds of lives breathing in the same nest, from corporate honchos to ‘apna gulli ka abdul bhai’ everyone travels together. Yes the stark inequality prevails through the first class and the second class. The difference in the full circle is in the second class it’s the smell of body odour, pure, unadulterated and in the first class it is the deodorants and perfumes!

Anyways from there I had started my journey to TISS. Wow the magical two years-people,places, experiences, learnings, lifeskills and transformations in me as a person. It weird how I saw changes and how I learnt there is nothing called right and nothing called wrong. However we might love black and white, greys rule! From outstanding people like Anshu or Rama or stories of Altaf Sir, sparks of Brilliance from Nagraj, Lobo or the engrossing classes of KPJ and the hottest faculty that turned out to be Sam’s bro its just been like a dream. If at one hand I knew Shiva on the other hand I also knew Bharath. Or suddenly in the land of Deonar I found cherry blossom in the drhrt Aj avtaar;If Sam spoke about Quran Sharif I would wonder the concoction of Jihad and the passion in Tarique would reason it out. Very caring seniors or supersweet Juniors, it seems there was nobody who was bad, if there was one Taranga in class there was also one Prakash, if Father Paul had his plethora of knowledge so was Gulrez’s convictions and fire within that made life in Room no XI so exciting. (Well I am so sure I never thought it was so interesting while I sat there). The TPC CSR or envisioning and trying to build up SAHER. The madness during Mumbai Floods or the historic relief work during tsunami…every experience has been for lifetime and I have never for a moment felt stagnated! And the literal travel around India from Kanyakumari to Kashmir life was a roller coaster ride-till the Cancer attacked!

The city is my dream, after TISS I got my first job in a microfinance consultancy firm, and breathed the first cheque! It was my ticket o complete freedom! It was an interesting learning and of course the emotional attachment of the first job. And people there, boy the variation is indeed stunning. The shade card would often go undefined for lack of words. But I had quit thinking it was not what I wanted to do when Point of View came my way, Bishakha is a super boss to work with. Rukmini and Pratiksha are amazing colleagues and u don’t even feel like its work, it seems fun at its best!
Right from the late night films to sitting by bandstand or Nariman Point, to Totos, 80s, Shack or Mondy’s or the amazing eateries in the city where few of them are like second home kitchen.
I cannot ever imagine the kind of friends I have met in that city. I met my soulmate in Mumbai, someone who has made me redefine life. She is just too special for me and I know I do not need words anymore for her. Dumbhead whose passion towards his goals have inspired me time and again, Fukcr whose zeal to live life midst greys is phenomenal. Munzu- the loyal communist buddy. Soulmediamate who has been my fighting spirit; And the several others who I will define in detail in my autobiography sometime! Someone like Satish who is friend with all the wise thoughts; sweetheart Ruchi and a very warm friend in Ashish (I still can’t believe what I had heard about him even before I met him, I can laugh my head off about that.) or one Rajeev who is an absolute darling! Rajesh, with whom I can speak tons of nonsense and still make sense. I met someone like Arjun Ray, who is a virtual stranger to me n yet it seems that we have been bumchums. There was Tiktiki with whom I did spend hours by sea discussing every lesser mortal’s existence. And also in tit bits of life meeting every single person has been a delight, absolute delight!

And of course I cannot ever even put in words meeting the quirk est feeling in a Mumbai pub. I mean I dunno how we walked by the Worli sea face or Bandstand or even from On the Platter to TISS when any distance seemed less for us. The Lint chocolates wrapped in the sweet nothings and travelling all the way to tell me today ‘u made me run around for good two months by acting busy’, swthrt I swear I was pretty busy;), synthetic thoughts was the sweetest revelation. It was also another revelation of an old relationship suddenly going out of the window, and I still have not figured out why my closest confidante vanished into oblivion.
Anyways, Quirk is the most wonderful thing that happened to me, it’s like taming the wild sea. With him I have learnt to enjoy silence and serenity. As individuals we are very different; he is the complacent, matured and level headed one, I have always been more spontaneous, wild, mad house. I still do not know how I got there; I do not know what attracted me to him. I do not know how on earth I gave up my treasured singleton status! Well however much I want to blame Sam n Dembla for it, its just the quirky charm that I fell for. And look at me today, I am actually committed, I am actually not into man-management anymore and most importantly I am much contended. Also life in the metro has been so memorable because of him. The whole aspect of some crisis would be dealt better because he would b around. At the same time I have completely smelt and absorbed freedom because of him. I never thought I could manage certain things n my own but I did, just because I took it on my ego trip and ha to prove it to him! On the other hand I have to be feeling really triumphant about the fact that this guy understands the need for space (I guess I was overjoyed when I understood that he understands the concept of space) and also that he is not an MCP or a patriarch. Its weird that he is probably the only man other than TB with whom the man-woman equation has not occurred! We have also seen our share of sunrise, flamingo sky and crescent moon at the same time we have also dealt with mundane realities of dal chawaal, no money at the end of the month and bills.
The concept of being together has reached a very matured level. We have our own issues, mostly because of other people’s precedence in life at different points (and often people we cannot ignore) but I do not know how having him around just takes care of everything. It is quite something as a revelation but the finer feminine sensibilities in me have been actualized probably for the first time with Quirk. Sunrise since the morning in December 2005 is especially beautiful. Or maybe its beauty awed me because I witnessed it after a long time. I crave to absorb beauty every moment -- completely soak up the aesthetic and have it pulsate through my veins, I want to wake up to the softer dawn forever and begin life in the arms of a dreamy reality called Quirk!

Ya now I know what it means again! While I was weaving such dreams and it was tuning into fine holistic embroidery the bacteria attacked.
So now after trying to fight the real estate boom, the terrible traffic, the awesome combination of Page 3 parties and Campaigns in Dharavi or finally finding the job that is 110% satisfying, I am now having to deal with movers and packers, biopsy reports, Tata Memorial Cabins and worried family and friends. In every practical sense being at Home is the obvious thing but I do not have a date to come back to Mumbai, I will not have things to do lists every Monday mornings and weekends will not be a complete delight!
Ok lets be fair, I am hoping to strike a fair deal ----.

I-the Cancer Vixen (cv)- Hey I will abide by all that’s prescribed and instructed

Cancer Bacterium (cb)- So? Your life do whatevr you want, dun worry we will not kill you

Cv – you dun understand I am gonna leave Mumbai, n life is gonna become very dull

Cb- so? You should have thot about this earlier and not invited us

Cv- grrr…. I ddn invite you guys, comeon

Cb- well babe lets jus accept it, you were plaintively irresistible for us

Cv- u dun understand…. I am losing out on a lot of stuff in life

Cb- (breaks into cocky laughter) poor you, lets see what can be done!

Cv- dun ya worry, I wouldn’t give you guys so much of a liberty and will throw you out of your habitat today!

Cb- ya babe, lets hope for the best.

And thus the cancer vixen left Mumbai and all that made life in this metro soooo vry special. Series of medication, strong medicines, and almost no good food to eat is gonna be what her life will be all about but I am hoping that she gets to come back. And as for me, Love you Mumbai and see you soon darling, keep the heart beating, the trains running and lives living, till we meet again,soon.

20th June 2007
19.45 hrs.

Marriage on the Cards

Some 38 friends, colleagues, etc are getting married this year, yup I know it’s going to be a rather eventful year. Boy, can’t get over it!
Jyotsna got married and I saw it as closely as I could.
My darling was happy and very prepared eventually for it. I loved the way she dealt with the whole zingbang and the never ending smile was a delight.
Amma and Uncle were too nice to be true and Gayu was the wonderkid!
Now what is it that took me a few steps away more from marriage? Of course the rituals were quite something and Brahminical and after the intensive argument with Madhu and Sam however I may agree for parents and other obligations we do it at several points of time we do abide by it but at what cost. Like in Tam Brahms the father of the bride washes the feet of the groom. It is because the groom was going away for Brahmacharya and he stopped him with the bait of marrying his daughter. So before the groom enters his social life again, it is with the concept of cleansing him. Logical, but why can’’t the groom do it on his own? And the bong ritual that I know of returning all that you have taken from your family by throwing puffed rice during vidaai. I mean if u really have to return it in cash n kind.
I guess I am just letting some steam out.
If I get to write on the marriage rituals that over centuries have created the trap for the woman and her side of the family one can have a paper written on it. Or maybe a thesis.
For now I hope to have a day when marriage truly symbolizes togetherness of two individuals and not the license to dominate women and imposing patriarchy or the license to have sex when it becomes socially acceptable.
As for me I still am happy considering a life of my own! Oh the potential prospect since I am already 24 and have all the so called attributes! Booohhhhh to the takers and a big middle finger to all the match makers and contenders, I am happily committed but single!

22nd May 2007
21. 37 hrs

Abortion….whose right?

A sudden call post my most sober birthday this year left me numb! I had no inhibitions about anything at large I guess till I let the news sink in. ‘I do not how it happened….I missed my periods, kinda had a hunch something was not right, aby, I am pregnant.’ With my limited knowledge and the sense of sanity the obvious thing was ‘what r u waiting for? Abort the child!’ No, I was not coming from the angle of single woman, unwed mother. As much as I knew her, she was too preoccupied sorting her own life midst various questions of transitions; so getting another life to live midst the smoky march mayhem was out of question. And the ever important question of the resources of raising the child….where is that coming from? Love, care etc. etc. I understood. But not the equation of buying baby food and getting the child a comfortable childhood that most of us have had was not in the mathematical purview.

She did not wait for these explanations, she just said, ‘I have to go for my sonography….will you come along?’ Immediate question ‘that’s ok but the Man ran away?’ The self proclaimed believer of ‘I am the captain of my soul’ replied ‘no…he is a man, and though he knows and is being there, its in me aby, the faceless life is a lil more than a week, it’s a concept but a man is created in a way that he will not understand’. Well at that moment I could intellectually debate the concept of fatherhood and its importance and the whole cycle of nine months where the woman is bestowed to bear another life and that probably made men so insecure and the cycle of oppression of women started, I decided to be there by her. We went for the sonography…. I did not know the progression of technology to that extent where a few weeks old life is also visible. All done and the date of 17th March fixed for the abortion, we returned to our nests.
Later I found out the guy had not called all day to find out how she was. He assumed he could come back home and check on her, he candidly said he just did not find time. I thought probably that is why men never have had a womb!

I cannot even imagine the concept of unprotected sex. On principle I am not comfortable reaching the stage where I have to abort baby who is a fall out of passions of youthful time; and but sometimes some things just are not ideal. She brought to the foresight the millions of questions. And I almost lived through it with her, what overrode everything else was the guilt and aspect that she never thought she would abort a baby because it was a result of lust! I kept wondering how would be the feeling to know that there is life breathing inside you that will take shape to be a complete human being. How it must feel to know you can and are procreating! Like a novice I could only tell her ‘remember our summer vacations, we used to spend the long afternoons trying to get the first poetry right, or the first painting picture perfect? And the numerous papers, ink, colours we wasted to get exactly our imagination right in reality? Maybe it is something like that….She looked into nowhere and said…’I wish I could enjoy procreation because motherhood as I have heard is an experience that is life changing’. For about a week we struggled to get emotions in place. At several points I felt as if the silent voice was within me and not outside me, she was laughing and tears rolled down, it was most precious tears, she would wake up in the middle of the night, stare at the sky talk hours about the conflicts and practical considerations. For her it was a silent killing of a concept, midst the madness this film buff continued saying ‘Ray had ET as the concept, Spilberg created it, the concept did not die aby’. ’Here the concept is just dying when it even does not know what a concept is!’ Often these interactions left me speechless and I vowed to use contraceptives. Its not about not trusting the man you are with, it is about the concept whose inevitable death under such circumstances would scar me for life!

17th March 2007, at 11.30 we reached the clinic. The concept of comfort had almost vanished for her because of some emergency her doctor had to rush back to Chennai. So it was just another doctor doing her work! The two brave souls were waiting outside when one young guy came with his partner, made her sit and said ‘this is the solution to your problem n my peace’. It shook us up but what the heck….an interesting life with new experiences none the less. Oh lest I have forgotten to mention both of us buddies are too good at acting super cool babes!
She entered the clinic….the process….that I don’t want to recall. It was as much as I wriggled in pain; and I know some of it will remain forever.
In the evening I had called her….she was stoned, it was over and she just said ‘aby, the funeral is over but they will never sentence me, they will ask me to live through it’.
She wrote to her guy….’I am sorry we lost our baby’.
I wondered does it affect men, how and if it does how do they cope with it? Is it as big a loss as it was for her?
Don’t get me wrong I am not drawing sex differentials! I am just curious.
And if there is any one of u wondering about the anonymous ‘she’,lets say she was as good as Calvin’s Hobbes, my alterego!

20th March 2007
23:37 hrs.

The Tale of the matchbox

A very old friend announced her separation. The irony is she always wanted to be a homemaker, wife and mother. And she did fit the role to the T. Spoke to her only to discover she has learnt the hard way to lead a life single and rocking. I guess I will have to be upfront and say that’s the spirit of celebrating womanhood, celebrating life. I was happy with her thoughts for her future, I was happy to know she was ready to rock, to face it with all her might. You have a long way to go buddy, dun give up!

Another old relationship is in town, I guess we were friends too! This dude is set to start a new chapter of his life Post the fame of Fame-X. Meeting him was fun, the old memories of living in oblivion and never understanding the complex aspects of mundane-ity. I guess we were too occupied with each other then to lend anything else an ear. But there was a sudden discomfort in him that’s troubling me….maybe too old to be forgotten, too new to explain. In the process when I realized I was basking in the glory of my today, he seemed all the more surprised. Well often quirky things tame the wild west wind.

Mumbai is the place to be! But exactly living without a home is a funny thing! It makes you feel vulnerable though shrouds the insecurities of being homeless, these days I come back to a space that is perhaps the most comforting zone but the sense of ownership is zero. It hurts the superego but compulsion is the mother of tolerance and I guess that’s the why for the other person lending the shoulder seems ok midst the clouds of ego. The good part about it ofcourse is understanding ways of life and operations, for future reference, just in case. But patience has never been good friends with me, so I really do not know till when can I hang in there, maybe till eternity….. Lost the thought, seems very complicated!

Met two well established independent women today, meeting over wine seems to be the way of life!
One lives in with her partner for the last 12 yrs and another one is too stylish to be 40 and gives all credit to being single. They seem to be very happy about life, about their freedom. I am allured again, not that I need to decide tomorrow but ya being freeeeeee has its temptations. When 31 friends are getting married this year, the good thing seems the double income that makes life so easy in a space called Mumbai, or maybe the security of being married but trust me….being legally single is just about perfect! The physical drive is not the reason to be married for sure, long live the flings I have lived when I was wild (ok dun read it wrong, I dnt miss it, or lets just say the one man has a plethora of temptations to offer;) ) How I wish I can still pass my life as perfect as my dream, when after a pack up I am swept off my feet into a Merc and I land up in a glass house on the mountain top overriding the sea and have a cosy evening with the someone I love living with followed by barbeque, some whisky and wine and friends making merry all this while.
Crossroads…yet again. How I wish the rhetorical question of what next had an answer and the matchboxes would not die young because it ran out of match sticks.

19th February 2007
21:33 hrs.

Holiday

The long awaited Alumni meet got over, and it was quite a funny ending I must say…..How the few good men and women seemed to be caught up in their web, and how I expected that if I could keep off the neverending complexities for these few moments why cannot they do it? Expectations! Never have them, never live upto them, probably that makes life simple!
I had a rather nice time with the most controversial friendship, with Dumbhead. All we did was sit beside each other all through the night and listen to other people’s words. Myself and he had never been so peacefully connected. Also was the first big hug to desire, how I wish they reach the zenith of togetherness. It will do well to people like us. On the other hand I feel disconnected with the romantic relationship I have been through, do I know the reason, I guess I do and I also know I will brush it under the carpet. That’s why it is perhaps said, so much for love! Decided yet again to find solace on celluloid and landed up with Rajeev for Holiday!
The best thing that has happened in a long time, a complete feel good film that leads you to believe in love all over again. The characters of Amanda and Irish, well to divulge further, it restores faith in love. It felt like falling in love all over again. Also how similar circumstances are, how similar feelings are, how similar life-views are, I did connect with all of it. The best thing is perhaps to outdo complications. And living up to
expectations is the easiest thing to do. Gosh, talk about being self contradictory! The perfect life is ofcourse when you smile and cry at the same breathe; its about admiring the today and aspiring for a better tomorrow. Sounds quite teeny-minny, but trust me to say it, perfection lies within us, its just about how we find it.
A holiday that I gifted myself and ofcourse Rajeev was the fellow-rider who made it better!

13th Feb 2007
01:10 hrs.

I was not allowed to Be a Nobody…..

It isn’t the best of times, for some reason I am looking for something that I do not know of, only hoping I will get the clue soon. My craving for space took me to the space where the Japanese Takio drum beats filled up senses of the universe. The need to communicate reached an epitome, but somehow the reconciliation of being in constant interaction with silence and voices it seemed a distant dream. Met up with two friends and the next day being an off, like the sweet surprise in midair (! :)) it was decided that I spend it on something more concrete. And as always the inox s and the Fame s is the perfect place. Only this time the film was set in Parzan’s fairyland, Parzania! Directed by Rahul Dholakia, the film stars Nasser( an all time favourite) and Sarika(what a comeback) and the bunch of the alternative actors in mainstream Hindi cinema. Set in 2002 post the Godhra riots the film was too real to be true. In a mohalla where Hindus and Muslims coexisted happily how the fangs of ugly side of Hindutva destroyed lives, buildings, dreams and memories. The story was direct and simple-The impact of a communal riot in Ahmedebad on a Parsi family. Midst the riot how a family loses their child and has not found him back. The child by the way was named Parzan. What strikes me the most in the film is its outright message. And it’s been five years since Godhra, we all know what happened, how meticulously the riot was planned. But still the perpetrators contest elections, and run campaigns like Vibrant Gujarat. The most amazing aspect is how power strategizes itself to play with the psyche of the masses. Till then they were leading normal lives. And the bone of contention is, the system that has perfectly adapted itself to the rulers. Irrespective of the knowledge of the process, the protectorates becomes the tool for the perpetrator to literally manufacture violence.

Slightly deviating from the film, its been five years since Godhra. Some 40 citizen’s report has been prepared and presented. There have been 17 chargesheets prepared for the case. 134 people have been accused in the process without any proof of their involvement, and most of them are Muslims. Maulana Umarji, the main accused as a terrorist used to be a maulana and was a part of the Shiv-Sena! And there are evidences of how statements are being forged, how the system itself is betting against all those challenging them about authenticity. The complete absence of reconciliation is amazing. There are evidences that cannot be clearer than prosecution of the perpetrators. The complete state of denial by the political stand is astounding. And there goes Narendra Modi, the star campaigner for Gujarat who in Harsh Mander’s words ‘reinforced his masculinity through Gujarat’. If one goes back in time, Godhra did not see the establishment of relief camps. There was no involvement of international agencies who come flocking for relief otherwise. And the whooping amount of Rs.19 crore given back to the Centre is a little detail we might have forgotten. Justice is a far cry! There is no acknowledgement that Godhra was the worst form of violation of Human Rights.

Coming back to Parzania, it is a true story. Apart from the little flaws like the fluttering of eyelids of the dead it was a tight script and detailed screenplay. But the Nasser religious journey was a little overplayed! The supporting characters have given a solid grounding and small little excerpts from chapters on humanity. As usual with all biases in place Nasser was wow, more than that I guess I was surprised with Sarika. The Ash of yesteryears it was almost a discovery to see her perform so beautifully.
Coming out of the theatre had to be with a heavy heart and the three youngsters got into a passionate discussion about how and why and what can we do to change it. The film has been banned in Gujarat and the whole fraternity expect a few of them kept mum. Its being said when Yash Chopra could not get to release Faana, you must be kidding if you want Parzania up there. However I realized the film had done something deep, I hated my identity as a Hindu. Though the Gita is as intellectually stimulating as the Quran Sharif but I found the baggage very heavy to carry. The BMC elections are around the corner and there were orange flags all over the city, keeping my fingers crossed.
How I wish I was allowed to be a nobody!

27th January 2007
02:43 hrs.

The Windmill Baby

It was the story of the Black and the black who was loved by and loved the white. A rather interesting theatrical expression of Australian aboriginal culture was the production called Windmill Baby! It started with the depiction of simple pleasures of Life for £3.
The bonding of a family was too tempting through the testing times; you often would want to switch roles! And the spirit of Oneman, the disabled character, whose way of life was very new, very desirable. At the end when the black and white mating resulted to the procreation that was lost under the gamut of colors….it led me thinking deeply, what is the fault of the new life? It doesn’t even know about the color of life. I woke up to realize among those millions of things that we as people are fighting against color is one; that’s racism!….oh I am an Indian, my country sells more of the fairness cream than washing powder!
And before I forget Windmill Baby was a monologue and still I know about all the characters, as if they were neighbors.

20th Jan 2007
22:24 hrs.

The POT that Talks

A friend invited us over on this amazing evening to the Gateway…..after a day’s work the only reason to get there was with the hope of something new, a new revelation. By the sea the ambience was perfectly set. As a part of the Mumbai festival there were Australian Pole dancers who would perform on the poles. The festival started with the Mumbai song by Shankar of SEL. Its weird…the city is where I have been for just 3 yrs, but there is something very very attractive, something that keeps one aspiring for more, for better. The space never sleeps; survival has a new meaning every day! I was myself pretty amazed the way I related to the city.

The performance started….the artistes went up the pole and then as rightly one says…it came out of nowhwere….as if out of the air, like magic.
The 45 mins that they performed on the pole captured everything one could feel in a moment, a day, or a lifetime.
The way the script built the performance was just regular, yet so real and true….probably that’s why it is said getting used to at pattern also has its own charm! They performed from happiness in fondness to love to heartbreak to jealousy, envy and coming back to where the heart belongs. I was astounded the way they performing up there made so much sense to someone 20 feet down. Midst the performance another snippet of the other side, as it was an open air performance, there were a bunch of kids who made their entrance in the performing arena quite nonchalantly. They moved all over often distracting the space and the mood. A few times that one could not stop them Divya just took the naughtiest one and made him sit on his lap, the others followed the sign of acceptance and found spaces in the front rows with the whose-who of Mumbai. Divya, was the festival director and this ‘not trying to make a point’ gesture of his, brought the true spirit of coexistence of extremes that symbolizes the city, together. Wow! The sight got better when as the ending note these children danced with the artistes midst hundreds of people. That’s really amalgamation of culture, of hearts and not to miss, the smiles on the faces of those less fortune, of those innocent little ones whose way of life is more uncertain than existence itself.

The performance had woken a few closed doors. Thanks to Tirtho, I found myself sitting at Nariman Point trying to discover life! (And I have come to realize I am obsessed with philosophizing!!! Certainly the Bong thing) and came up with something as strong as how certain individuals I know have had a very futile existence. Talk about being critical and upfront! For all that I gathered even Tirtho was taken aback. On the contrary as I was reliving the boon of field realities that I received the quirky call narrating experiences in a jaccuzi. Contrast never got better!
I traveled back home with oodles of memories and thoughts about voids.

16th January 2007
01:24 hrs