Tuesday, November 25, 2008

Lifeless III


The clothes lie in the dryer like you had left them,
The stains on the tea mugs remain.
Everything seems to have changed today,
Yet it all seems the same.

My forehead is still moist with your kiss.
My eyes still unlock everyday to be able to see your face,
My heart still beats with the hope of a twist in fate.

The stench of fresh flowers chokes me to death
The laughter of innocence makes my eyes go wet.
The starlit sky looks like a thousand thorns set up to bruise the already battered.
The wounded moon reminds me of a façade of happiness, hiding in its hollows,
A thousand dreams left shattered.

Stop it. This wait. It makes me want to die.
Stop it. This laughter it makes me want to cry.


The outer me flawless.
The inner me….lifeless.

Wednesday, November 19, 2008

This and that, here and There!!

I have no energy left whatsoevr in me to write something innovative, out of the ordinary or something which will make you write real nice comments for me.

But, all Giving as I am I shall not deprive you of any non-intellectual humour/crap after all!!:P

I have started freelancing for a Co. So, right now I am working, studying, have commitments at home and of course dig my own grave even deeper by volunteering to do things that I could easily escape from! a very recent one being volunteering to be the public announcer at a rally in Cal!!!!! plz, stop reading that again and again!I did it! coz it was for a good cause and did not feature desperate and frustated spinsters screaching for attention. I am actually real happy that I was a part of it! bloody media did not give the cause any real coverage! guess it did not have enough masala to get their curry spices right!

I also came across a trait of mine that I would never have other wise. Leave me anywhere in the world and I will never get lost!! but leave me on foot!!
There is another trait in me that I can stand strongly for! my road sense sucks!! For those of you who know cal roads, I once walked from maidan to minto park to maidan again and back to rabindra sadan in a day and on another walked from esplanade to central to esplanade to central!!! yes, u read that correct, I walked. I didn’t get lost though! wow!! Having always travelled in a car for as early as I can recollect I was not too familiar with public transport. but now, well, things have changed! from metro to auto to bus to even tram!and I am happy about it!! I don’t know which bus goes from where and stops where, thus, I stop every bus I see and ask “dada, ekhane jaaben,okhaaney jaaben”. some of them even remember me now and before I ask say ,”na, jaabe na”. someones getting famous.

one good thing happened to me though, I have a new phone!! and its a pleasant change after having real sad ones for more than two years now!

Wednesday, October 29, 2008

nothing really

hmmm....its 1-34 pm. I am at home. have nothing much to do. Guitar classes will start, wen, i dunno. I am blogging, i dunno why. You are reading coz u are nice!!;) (damn did that rhyme??)

I want to go have a cup of coffee right now in CCD, with whom? i don't know!!

No i am not drunk!! the "teetotaler" me!! learnt that word a few days back, and no, thats not how you pronounce it!! and no, the line above did not rhyme!! stop reading it again and again!!'why' and 'nice' cannot rhyme!!

I saw an episode of Bigggg BOSSS or howsoever it is spelt!!,, the other day. Its stupid! the roadies thingy these days on Mtv SUCKS!! i like the show but hate those losers sitting and bitching and dogging!!( why blame the females alone!!wen women bitch its bitching and wen men do the same its "dogging")

oh! and yeah! i know, thanx to my friends i know a lot of you know my name, but i still like to be addressed as "whats in a name". peace****

"anyways,,u continue!! sab good hai!!peace hai!tata!!"

adios

ciao

khudahafiz

Saturday, October 4, 2008

My Creation Of Havoc!


After that incredible noise, all was quiet and I was no exception.
I woke up to see no roof over my head.
Infact, I lay on the floor, I could not locate my bed.

I went into the outside and saw what I could have never imagined to have seen.
I moved into my garden. My heart ached, my body froze, my mind, bewildered.
I saw my son. Actually just a part of him.
I saw his aeroplane clutched in his fist,
I do not know where the rest of him was, it was just his aeroplane and just his fist.
I screamed. The inside of me was dead.

I went looking for my little princess,
All that was left was burning ash and that stench of plastic. She never parted with her doll.

My eyes refused to emote and my heart refused to obey.
I rushed to the pond nearby and I washed my face.
But. The touch of water? I couldn’t feel it anymore.

Then I suddenly felt my son’s touch and felt my princess’s little hands in my own.
I kissed them, hugged them tight.
I was elated though startled that they suddenly looked alright!

My son then told me it was time for ‘us’ to go! “Go where”? I asked
He smiled took me by my hand and showed me my bodily self charcoaled!

My creation of Havoc, my Time Bomb refused to follow orders last night.
Before I could plant it safely to kill a few,
It gave me a fight!



Monday, September 1, 2008

The Hidden Truth

Thank your stars that you opened this blog! God alone knows what you would have done if you missed reading it!
All your life you’ve been misled and misguided into believing things that never were true!
You see, I am doing my Masters in Human Rights and thus felt it was my duty to issue these truths below in public interest!

1.Fried food is bad for health.
Food is fried these days in vegetable oil. How could getting more vegetables be bad for you? So you see, the more the fried the better.

2.You should lessen your intake of meat!
Seriously man, what an outright lie! What does lamb eat? Grass and corn, thus logically a kebab is nothing more than an efficient mechanism of ensuring that your body gets enough Greens! Need grain? Eat chicken!

3. Talking too much on the phone is bad for your Ear Drums.
I mean seriously, you say exercise is a must, and one must believe in overall maintenance. How on earth are you going to get your ears to lift those weights!

4.Doing homework on time is a good habit.
No its Not! The world is moving at a fast pace today, you can’t be laid back and take your own sweet time to do your homework at home, it spoils you. So, always remember to complete it in a hurry while your mom is buttoning your shirt, while eating breakfast simulataneously, learn the art of juggling your commitments, the big bad fast moving world is waiting for you!

5. Screaming and abusing are bad.
Ya right! It maintains your blood pressure, thus saving you from a future tendency of a heart attack while also ensuring that you follow Gandhiji’s ideals of saying nothing but the truth about the other person. What on earth have you been taught all this while? Sheeeesh.

6. Lying is a bad habit.
This is the limit! arrey?? See it this way. I lied and my lie saved you from getting mad at me, screaming at me, and a possible chance of an increased blood pressure, of a brain haemorrhage leading to a possible state of a partial coma or paralysis. And you still say it’s a bad thing.
Huh. So much for caring……sobs

7. If you don’t make it to IIM/IIT you are useless.
Obviously not! IIM/IIT people study a lot, get foreign internships, get a lot of money and settle abroad. Thank God that you do not suffer like them. You saved time, went for the Para football, did not become a spend thrift and listen to an Indian boss screaming his ass off at you! Asli Bhartiya!

Hope all of this proved to be an eye opener! Will be glad to incorporate more of these sacred truths in public interest from all of you! ;)

Thursday, August 21, 2008

A sad city of joy!!


Hello all, i had done a little shoot for CNN-IBN on another beggar like Bilal (the man in the picture above)....the shoot was not aired( because of "bigger stories" and the beggar dissapeared!!! i was too guilty[because i feel i was the cause of his loss of livelihood-god alone knows where that disfigured beggar remember;the one near the park street metro station went] and scared for bilal and thus did not do any shoot for him. Here’s a little something that i found out about Bilal..............
"Every Kolkatan at some point has walked on this footpath, but it is surprising how very few or none have noticed Bilal. I always remember seeing Bilal, in his mid 40s, with no hands and a body so frail that one could easily count his ribs. According to the hawkers of this chowringhee footpath Bilal has been lying on his stomach, shiverring, for the past 10-15 yrs. Kolkata is full of men and women like bilal, some handicapped, blind with no rehabilitation and some like this man outside the park street metro station, literally rotting away in pain! and some so old that it is shameful to see them, from the comfort of our cars and taxis, having to stand in the sun and beg! Unlike others who have made begging their occupation out of choice, People like them beg because they have no choice; who will give an old man or a man with no hands or legs a job today? There are others who wander with no clothes on without a trace of shame as a lot of them are mentally challenged. The question is, what is the government doing? Where are the ever active human rights activists and NGO's? When it comes to people like this, where does the spirit of the residents of the city of joy go? People like them do not require those extra ten rupees that you have generously decided to spare, they need HELP!! The agencies concerned, the citizens have to join hands to rehabilitate them and ensure them of their basic right, their right to life!!"

Monday, August 4, 2008

Lifeless….. II



I looked outside the window pane.

The cool breeze froze my soul,
It reminded me of your touch.

The beautiful smell of wet earth choked me,
It reminded me of your scent.

The touch of water parched my body,
It reminded me of your tears.

The sounds of the drops deafened me
I could hear you call out for me in them.

Dark clouds were a relief,
Thunder, music to the ears and
Lightening felt like a ray of forgotten hope.

Stop it. This laughter.
It makes me want to cry.
Stop it. Those tears.
They make me want to die.

The outer me flawless.
The inner me, lifeless……

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Wish ME Get Well Soon :(


I recently visited Dr Doog Rof Gnihton, when I was declared to have been suffering from a severe partial lapse of memory (have you ever seen my posts just left incomplete halfway??DUH!!). I also discussed in details about a disease that I have been suffering from, from the past two months. He asked me to enumerate in detail my symptoms. So, Here goes….

Khali Syndrome- there is something called eating and another called hogging. My symptom; hogging after eating!! Food is awesome!!

Chimgadarish behaviour- sleeping till late one day and staring at the blank ceiling for hours the other.

Mad cow syndrome- sitting in an empty room and smiling. My sister once happened to have noticed me while I was in the room, well, smiling, she saw me. She screamed. And. she ran away!
(Don’t bother abt the name I gave this syndrome, couldn’t think of anything else :P)

Dry Brain Fry- no no this is not some dish out of the weird food guide on your favourite channel MTV( u watch it all the time for that ticker don’t you!! gotcha!!). You know you are left with no blood pumping into your brain when you see splitsvilla every Saturday despite the fact that you hate it deject it and think its disgraceful and in bad taste. And are even caught seeing some side ass modelling competition. U end up pulling your hair at the end of it all. Go out in the sun and your brain fries in the heat.
You don’t get the man, or the money.damn it! U know it! But u still watch it!!

Jabbering gibberish- talk talk talk, and not even know what you are talking abt. Laugh at the jokes which sanity otherwise would not have permitted you to even look at. Eg- “come on, its not “whatever” its “what-e-ver”.!!???hahahahaha

Bhartiya sanskaari syndrome- yes. You want to thank everyone, even though you know you would fail to get noticed for an award even if you were a vamp in some side ass soap opera. Since you have read this far, you might as well read my thanksgiving list. I want to thank…..

1. Dhirubhai ambani group- for letting megha call me up. And yes, megha as well for the endless chats, giggles and secrets. (Shhhhhh you are not supposed to know this, don’t tell anyone.)
2. Students of Loreto- for giving me a friend like Ms Khan. She’s my better half. Need I say more??
3. The manufacturers of this particular drink- for ensuring I never drink it again!! Or at least be careful before tasting it again!! (megha and miss khan,,,,blink blink)
4. For you guys. Yes you, reading it. Array baba stop looking here and there, talking about you only. Thank you. (More thanks giving in another post, you will read wont you??:())

So, you read it all?? Hmmm…lemme see,, I don’t want to scare you but, what did you say, you even tried to decipher the doctor’s name? Now this is serious!
you are suffering from the same disease as me!!!
I CALL IT THE “I DON’T HAVE A LIFE AT THE MOMENT”, what do you like to call it eh?? Why should you copy,, cheater cheater pumpkin eater!! Your disease you name it huh!!

And dare you not leave a comment here! I know you’ve read this, I saw you!
(If it helps- pleashhhhhhhhheeeee )

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

My..........


I go to bed with you.
In the flickering light of the night lamp,
I see your hazy self,
And embrace slumber in your arms.

When I unlock my eyes in the mornings you are gone, no where in sight
But you assure me of your presence when I am up on my feet.

You never leave me to myself,
When I falter you falter,
When I laugh, you laugh
And my tears make you cry.

When you are gone for that part of the day,
I look around and smile,
You leave me only when you are sure I am not alone.

In the solitude of that corner in my room,
We drink together sip after sip.
I have never seen you smile,
Nor have I looked into your eyes,
Yet you constantly remind me, let me know,
You will never let go, even when I breathe no more.
My shadow.

Sunday, June 22, 2008

Aamar Shona

“What is sit? What is it?” Gopal’s eyes lit with joy when he heard the baby cry. “Tell me doctor Sahib, why are you quiet? Is, is it a girl”? The doctor remained quiet. “Yes I knew it! I just knew it! Had to be a boy!” exclaimed Gopal’s mother. “I had told her during the fourth month of her pregnancy, when she was eating a lot of spicy food, it was a sign! Oh! Where is the light of my house doctor sahib, where is my daughter? It’s a boy isn’t it?” She chuckled!
“No”, the doctor said.

“It’s not a boy it’s not a girl then what is it? Is it a ...”, before gopal could complete his sentence the doctor nodded his head.
You are joking doctor, I didn’t mean to, what the hell is going on here? I want to see my wife. I want to see the baby.

“Mr Gupta I know what you are going through but your wife needs rest”.
“You know what I am going through? you know eh? You know how much money I had to spend, how many tests, operations later Rekha conceived, nine years after our marriage, and now you tell me she gave birth to a godforsaken…”

“Mr Gupta, this is a hospital”. “You can’t stop me from seeing my wife” he screamed and barged into her room.”Gopal” she murmured as tears rolled down her eyes. “This is not my.. This is not mine”, he screamed pointing towards the infant whose first words were those of his father disowning him! “Gopal” she murmured again, this time with shock, “the doctor said its because of the excessive treatment you made me go through, he was”, before she could complete what she was saying Gopal’s mother barged into her room and started screaming at her, “first you give berth to this thing and then blame my son! God should have left you barren. Oh Durga! What shame this woman has brought to the family! Where did I go wrong with all my offerings? Aamaar pran niye nao Ma, niye nao!!”

It was the thunderous applaud that brought Rekha back to the present. It had been twenty one years since that day when kamal her son was born. Gopal had agreed to stay with the “cursed woman”, as she was famously called by her mother in law on condition that the “thing” be done away with. Rekha had made up her mind. She was traditional, not weak. She went to stay with her parents.

She sat in the midst of crowds and parents wondering, for the umpteenth time, why had the doctor not explained to gopal that kamal was a boy despite his physical condition? Had his education not overcome his backwardness? She had moved to her parents place but her life there as well was soon made miserable. Gopal had spread the word. Taunting sympathy of her relatives seemed undying. Relatives said they were sorry. “Sorry? Sorry for what? Is my son blind? Is he mentally disbalanced? can he not talk?” rekha would tell them. “Look at her!! Humph!! Very educated! This is what happens! She wants us to tell her what is wrong with her so called “son”!!

Her father soon gave in, to the mob mentality. Rekha had had enough. She left kolkata and shifted to the adjoining Kharagpur. Kamal grew up to be a handsome young man. The sounds of applause grew louder. Rekha peeped up from the fourth row of the auditorium of one the countries best engineering institutes, to see Kamal receive his degree. “That’s my son” he told the woman sitting next to her, when the Dean announced Kamal’s name, adding that he topped his batch.

Not many people knew where Rekha and her son came from and why in twenty one years of their stay in Kharagpur no one ever came to visit them. Rekha did call her masi once sometime back to ask about "Baba". Her "Masi" had informed her about Gopal’s second marriage and after a year about his third futile attempt. She had cried the first time, but on the second she asked "Masi" to “wish him luck”. She had realised by then that Gopal was not worthy if her tears.

Kamal finished his MBA and found himself a job. He also found someone else!
After lifting his mother off the ground, after showing her his appointment letter he touched her feet and said, “There is something else I want you to know, I want you to meet a friend, a very special friend, I want you to meet Neil”. Rekha froze for a moment. She would probably have not reacted this way had kamal shown any kind of sighs earlier. He was not into sports, which is beside the point, not all men are born Federers!! He did not have a girl friend, yes, but she had often caught him eyeing Mrs Sharma’s daughter at weddings!!

“Neel!?” beta I did not think,, you never told me,,do not take me wrong but I ,umm”. “Maa!!” he smiled. “Neil, neelima girl!” they had a good laugh after that. Rekha though had something else on her mind.

“She will be here any moment Ma”. “Shona, sit with me here for a while, I want to ask you something. does Neil, I mean neelima know about,,aah,”.
Kamal chuckled real loud this time and seeing his mother amazed said, “No Ma! Contrary to what you may have in mind, I have not gone mad. Neelima is a very different girl, from the ones in the overdramatic soap operas that you are so used to seeing. You ask her the same question and see what she says. My only request. Don’t faint after her reply!!”.

And Rekha well, she did not faint; infact did quite well, when Neelima told her straight, “Aunty, who cares! It’s so much easier to live with a man who is man enough to accept facts and not cheat people. I mean who would have the (yes the forbidden “B” word was used) to proclaim to a girl about such a thing!! "

Yes, they got married soon after and Rekha became a proud grand mother of two adopted grandchildren!!

Sunday, June 15, 2008

.

OK.
i tried, i swear i did, but my brain is dead.
i just cant write , or think, or imagine or be creative.
life is super static. People have lost all hope in me, they've even started de-blog rolling me!!wow!!
i have never felt so useless all my life!! college is over and life sucks!!
pray! pray for me fellow bloggers, pray for my brain to live again.

Saturday, May 31, 2008

E-mail from Nera

hello all, Nera the cat asked me to send this reply to Rut the rat, please tell him abt it if you see him anytime....here is the letter that he had sent to her.. http://scarletconfab.blogspot.com/2008/05/with-all-love-in-world.html

Yo dude Rut…ssup!!!
Sorry for da late reply,,,,,the letter smelled really good,,kinda licked it all up, chewed it and then realized, damn, it was paper. sent it to the laundry to wash it and get it ironed.
Before anything else, my mum kinda got hyper reading “I lay my eyes on your soft furry coat that shines under the moonlight like a glistening cape of black diamonds” part and she said she wants to have a little tete a tete wid ya buddy!!
Anyway, jack and I are history, he lost all mah love when he failed to get you to me. I was so hungry that day. He’s’ not half a tom cat, jerk. say hi to tod man, and tell him he tastes real nice!! his tail does at least.
see dude, I m not the honey sugar kinda gurl, more of a ssup kinds, so plz keep the honey ,the sugar far away from me!! gives me yuck feelings.
U r quite a soft guy for a man, and im quite darin, so ya may be we cud get along. I hate cheese btw!!
And du’uh!! Who are u kiddin eh?? The garbage can?? I m a chic feline, bathe in catthol and shampoo mah self daily with catene, you don’t expect me to c ya near that freakin bin do ya??
So well I will see ya and let ya present your case. are you like a Shakespeare freak too?? coz I aint understand ntin of that fella man!!
oh ya dude, just remember to get some salt and pepper wid yaw en u come. C u at the hungry cats corner at 11 sharp. will be waitin wid all mah friends wid my paws open. mueaaaauuuh
Love and all that cute jazz
Nera ..yo!!

Monday, May 19, 2008

My better half and I...the journey so far.....








We met at this festival…our eyes met, jab we met! and we could hear violins playing around us, there was love in the air and….and…..WAKE UP!! None of the aforesaid bull shit happened. Ours is a tale of a different kind!! so, for those who want to know, read the following poem (if one may call it so, lets just call it a limerick, I am still uncertain though) and, well, the rest is for you to ponder upon……




We have been together for a year and a half now
We’ve not had even a squabble since,
Many marvel how?

We think of the same things and even say the same things at the same time,
according to the Indian constitution (if you have a dirty mind and if you know what I am talking about),
you will probably think this is a crime!!


We can talk to each other for hours without getting bored,
About anything at all,From career decisions to why the hell did the chicken cross the road!(Note- forced rhyme)




We have laughed together, cried together even traveled together,
Irrespective of what so ever is the weather!
(Note-forced rhyme again!!)


We understand each other to the core
I couldn’t have asked god for more.


It troubles one to see a mark of worry on the others face,
Our bond is getting stronger by god’s grace!


My better half is a part of me now,
Can’t think of life without you dear!


The journey for us has just begun,
The future will bring us even more near!!


(Disclaimer- do not rate my literary skills on this piece.
if you have a raised eyebrow, You have a dirty mind.
We are both straight n single! however, not ready to mingle!! )

Monday, May 5, 2008

LIFELESS......


The dishes lie in the kitchen sink.
The unclean clothes in the dryer,
The coffee in the mug has gone cold
I can see wrinkles on it when I touch its surface .

There is a usual sigh here and there
But I don’t like to pretend and be heard
I cry. My soul cries. But no one hears me.
I don’t let them

It shatters me. Your absence
It tears me apart. Your hope
It strangles me to death. That thought…..

The tea pan is still on the stove; it’s empty now and is burning,
But you, you’re too far away somewhere to be bothered.

It’s dark, very dark in broad daylight,
It’s very lonely on the crowded street,
It’s very dim. The bright sun.
When there is no where for me to run….

Stop it! This wait.
It makes me want to live.
Kill it!! This time.
It forces me to hope.

I am battered and bruised,
Yet not a mark on me.
The outer me is flawless
The inner me, lifeless.

Tuesday, April 29, 2008

ANKAHEE....



BEWARE!! THIS IS MY FIRST ATTEMPT AT URDU POETRY, I DONT KNOW IF U WILL SURVIVE READING THIS!!

Tanhaaee kya hai?
Tanhaaee gar kabhie akelepan ka dariya hai, to kabhi khud ko samajhne ka zariya.
Kabhie ek pal bhi tanhaaee me guzar nahee paataa hai
To kabhie is tanhaaee me bahut mazaa aata hai.
Tanhaee ko akelaapan samajhne kee ghalti karne vaalo,
Shor o gul se door, isee tanhaaee mein to, insaan apne aapko,
Apnee hee maujoodgi ka ehsaas dilaa paata hai!!

Aasoon kya hain??
khushi ho ya gham, ye kabhie bhi jhalak jaate hain
kabhi rote ki, to kabhi haste ki aankho me nazar aate hain.
duniya ke tano ke darr se, kabhie log inhe aakhon ka kachda keh kar chupa lete hain,
to kabhie apne dard ko chupa, inhe khushi ke aasuon mein tabdeel kar lete hain!!


Andhera kya hai?
Andhera gar gham ke baadlon ka gehra saaya hai,
to andhere mein hee roshni ka raaz bhi samaayaa hai.
Andhere mein gum hote, andhere se darte logon,
aaj ka andhera hee to kal kee roshni ka paighaam laayaa hai!!


Yaad kya hai??
Bhool kar cheezon ko yaad kiya jata hai,
bhool kar jab koi bahut yaad aata hai,
chehra jab uska aakhon mein aasoon le aata hai,
tab dil dhikkar ke kehta hai, “aye dost, tujhe koi haq nahi use yaad karne ka,
yaad to use kiya jaataa hai jise ye dil kabhie bhula bhi pataa hai”


Khaamoshi kya hai??
Khaamoshi ek anjaanaa ehsaas hai,
phir bhi lagta jaana pehchaana saa ankahaa raaz hai.
is ehsaas ko, raaz ko kuch kehte hue hai maine suna!!
log to aaj bolte ko khaamosh kar dete hain
maine to khaamoshi ko baate karte hue hai suna!!

Thursday, April 24, 2008

Hmmmm....

A first gaze
A second glance,
A third look
A fourth chance.

Myriad dreams built
In a moment a broken Heart.
A Glaring hope
A Charm to die
Lost Forever….
In dreams now they lie…..

Friday, April 18, 2008

"Coach" Potatoes!!

The oxford dictionary has yet another addition,or rather should have one,my creation.The word''coach potato'',meaning-men on the train with nothing to do but stare at their female counterparts and eat like hunger stricken people in the process.
On a journey by the Kalka from delhi, accompanied by my friends (we were coming back from Jamia to kolkata from a seminar there..but thats besides the point!!) , by the sleeper class , i came across the above specimen in huge numbers. These men (with some political affiliation) had with them electronic gadgets which are so expensive that i wondered how they managed even sleeper class tickets. This journey also taught me an innovative pose of sleeping which i call ''the sight seeing pose'', whereby these coach potatoes put their heads in place of their feet and lie on their stomachs on the upper birth of the train wih their heads resting on their crossed hands..i actually believe this can be a great new yoga pose, we may call it ''disgustingstare-ashana''.
We were bothered when we ate, spoke to each other and comments were even passed when we said nothing at all! to add to our misery our train was 16hrs late stuck at mughalsarai for more than 12 hrs! We were forced to do a lot of things which sanity would not permit us to do othertwise like looking after chained luggage! and not sleeping for 36 hrs, ready to attack with pepper spray, deo, (yes they also have other use!!) ,neither talk nor giggle and most importantly not call each other by names, now thats what you call true freedom!! (they were farting away to glory at night,,while still wide awake ogling at us and saying things like “aah kaa baans” yuck!!!
With so much being talked about female liberation this experience felt as if being a girl was a crime and a source of enjoyment for the on lookers. Not reacting and even keeping quiet did not help. Well thanks to some distant relative of mine (sorry sir i do not renmember your name!!) some security people came to rescue us when the not so gentle men had crossed all their limits trying to take our pictures with their camera phones!( dad..i feel deprived) Did i forget to mention they were carrying MP3s! It would however be important to mention here that we did manage to transfer ourself to A.C 3Tier at the end for a couple of hours where some very caring gentlemen (and I m not being sarcastic this time!!) left their seats so that we could sleep and even offered to charge our phones for us!!

Moral of the story?? nothing much,,wanted to share this incident,,thats it!!

Saturday, March 15, 2008

In the hundred and two minutes at my neighbour's place...

I was sitting today, in one of my neighbour's house, and thinking about a lot of things,,,,(i know my blank face must have irritated her to quite an extent, because ideally i should have been talking to her, that was the idea behind me going with my aunt to see her),,alright, i know i am drifting away from where I began. Coming back, i was thinking how on one hand someones absence can kill you and how on the other someone's thought can breathe life into you. I was wondering how someone suddenly becomes so important for you that all you do is think about that person!! Even if the person in question does never bother to ever think about you!! I am not essentially talking about a boy thinkin about a girl and vice versa (and i dont know why i m explaining that to you!!). I was wondering why for a moment people treat you like you are special and in another treat you like you hardly exist!! I mean why do it in the first place.......

I was also thinking about Death. How sometimes its so much easier to recover over someone dead than someone alive, i mean you know that a particular person exists, is breathing somewhere, you can atleast hope that he/she is, but you cant even cry over his/her absence because that makes you feel like you have lost em forever!! Then on the other hand the thought of someones death takes all life away from you!!!

I was also thinking about love!! What is love?? I still dont have the answer,,actually i could'nt think much about it in the hundred and two minutes that i was at this neighbours place,,,,

Thursday, March 13, 2008

HANDS (a little short story i wrote about 2yrs back)


None in sikkim had seen and none could imagine that could ever be more beautiful pots in the tranquil hill-station or anywhere at all for that matter. No trace of fine lines, no finger prints, they seemed to have come out of some'big city machine'. Such was the skill of Shyamala but the irony of the situation, no one had ever seen the hands which created these beautiful pots, no body had ever seen Shyamala at all! Living in a very remote area in Sikkim, poverty stricken Shyamala's pots were so popular that nobody bought pots even to store water from anywhere else,and why would they,where else would they get such a bargain, such beautiful pots for such small a price.
Living in a small wooden house with no windows,the door of which was never opened to strangers,never to anyone at all. It was always locked from the outside and the keys that opened the lock belonged to her 12 year old son,Bhishu. Bhishu was in-charge of selling the pots his mother made. Every morning he carried on his head a basket full of pots of different shapes and sizes and colours and displayed them in a corner in the market floor. He did not have to make an effort to sell them.One by one people would come and buy the pots priced such that, never once did anyone complain and try to bargain with the young lad.In fact even tourists who could not resist but buy these were sold the pots at the same price."what a fool,you can easily sell these to the sahabs for triple the price.God knows why your mother sends you to sell them when she can earn a fortune with a bit of marketting skills" fellow shopkeepers would say,but Bhishu never bothered.he was doing what he had been asked to.
A group of tourists visiting sikkim were recommended by their guide to 'surely' buy atleast one pot from the village as it was as good as buying a souvenir."everybody buys these pots didi,they are simply beautiful,nothing like have ever seen before".Renu dissaprovingly replied,"yes, yes,of all things in the world i would spend my money on breakable pots.Are you suppose to be getting some sort of a commission out of this?."No didi,not at all, they are very cheap, only Rs 15 per pot". "we will see" said renu and ended the discussion.
The next day, on a visit to the market place the guide did not urge Renu to buy the pots but simply took her from the way the little boy sold his mother's masterpieces. What followed came as no surprise to him.Renu stopped at the sight of the pots, stunned.having an eye of an artist herself she could not believe her eyes. Ten pots lined one beside the other. One painted yellow, the other green, the third red and so on. Their shapes so usual, yet so unusual. Each pot looked diffetent from the other. One had a high neck, the other a square bottom.one had a wide opening and the other a beautiful wavy texture.Renu wondered what it was that made these ordinary pots so unordinary,why was it that they seemed to ask its onlooker a thousand questions? There is something to this.I must meet their creator, she said to herselfand urged the guide to ask Bhishu to take her to his mother. "you ask him madam, he understands hindi".Renu did ask bhishu who coldly replied in his broken hindi, "ma nai milega,lena hai to lo nai to idharse jao". "see madam" said the guide,"he says this to anyone and everyone who wants to know about his mother. I did not ask him again as i have repeatedly done so, so many times that I feared being insulted by the little boy this time" Renu was not going to give up. She planned to spend the rest of the day in the market keeping and eye over him and planned to follow him when he finished . She could not imagine going back to Kolkata, her hometown without seeing Shyamala or atleast without paying respects to the hands which created such pieces. She had a lot going on in her mind. she was even planning to take the woman whom sha lear'nt was called Shyamala and her son to the the city which has always welcomed talent and appreciated it."What if she says no"she muttered to herself. "Never mind, then i will buy all her pots and urge people to see her or atleast buy a piece! or maybe i can earn some money for myself too in the process.Buy this beauty for Rs 15 each and sell it for atleast a hundred and fifty in the city and i can also send Shyamala a part of the profit" she said to herself,"or even better/ i will make her a partner in the business,that would do her good too,living in such remote and harsh coonditions as she is which such a talent.What a pity? Engrossed in her thoughts she forgot all about Bhisu who left just an hour and a half before she came back to the real world."Tomorrow perhaps" she muttered to herself.
The next day Renu started a little late as she an idea about when Bhishu will go back home. She went up to the market at around 2pm and saw bhishu getting ready to leave just an hour later. She followed him quietly. Bhishu climed down the slope singing a sweet local folk song. Renu was careful to keep a good distance as she knew that a single mistake on her part would mean depriving her eyes of witnessing those hands.Bhishu walked fearlessly through sleep hill slopes,crossing waterfalls. He had been quite used to this road now,after all he had been using it since his father died in a road accident when he was only six years old. Renu could now see a hut at not much a distance and her heart was now beating with great speed.Careful though, she did not let her heart take-over her mind and hid herself behind a tree in front of the house.it was a secluded place.she could see no one around, but the boy. She saw Bhishu unlock the door and vanish inside the darkness of the hut.She had to go inside to see those hands and tell their master of their true worth!she banged open the door and was awestrusk.There was Shyamala sitting and making pots, but there were no beautiful hands. Shyamala had no hands at all! she was sitting there making pots with her legs! Renu ran out of the hut and up the hill to her hotel.She had to go back to that hut tomorrow and ask Shyamala to forgive her.for what?Shew knew not.The next morning she walked up the same path leading to Shamala's hut. She knocked at the door and her knock was surprisingly answered,it had never ever been answered to any stranger before.From inside came out somebody unfamiliar. It was Bhishu's chacha Ram."i want to meet shyamala" she urged."There is no shyamala here" he angrily answered."you mean there is no shyamala here who makes pots with not her hands but...", before Renu could conclude Ram asked her to come in.He told her that Shyamala who lost both her hands trying to save her husband being knocked by a truck did not ever come out in the open as she did not want to be sympathised with and wanted to lawfully earn her own bread without anyone's help.
He also told her that because Renu saw her, she has gone to some other place without telling a soul,including him,with only her potters wheel!

Friday, February 22, 2008

My First (usual) Meeting!!



It is a moonlit night, I think,
I am sure the stars are shimmering in their utmost glory,
It is our first meeting!
I touched the modern sand clock and it felt seven thirty
I know I am an hour early
But could I help not being?
Two days ago, she had called me,
Saying she wanted to see me!
See me!!
I could not believe it then, some silly joke I thought.
She called me again.
You see, she had seen the inner me in my work,
She had read my pieces.
She told me from over the other side
That she admired me! Admired me?
She even wanted me to sign for her,
One of my creative pieces.
I was all delighted to see, err, and hear a beautiful voice ask me out for dinner then
Today morning, I was all apprehensive.
What do I wear, what colour do I wear
But then it struck me
How does it even matter to me!!
Called up my help and he dressed me up, I packed my typewriter and kept it in the safety of my black cupboard.
And now, here I am waiting for her with my eyes open
Oh! I did not realize she has been sitting here for the past fifteen minutes
And I! I have been thinking about her!
Oh! She is coming closer to me, I know she is, now that I am back to my senses, I think.
What?! I think I just heard her sigh and felt her tear on my palm
"Will you be able to sign your book for me"?
She is asking the man who has written it!
For once I thought it did not make a difference
For once I thought I would feel a woman smiling
But, such is destiny
This blind man in his endeavour to feel one smile, made another one cry!

Tuesday, February 19, 2008

A sad city of joy!!!


A SAD CITY OF JOY
hello all, i had done a little shoot for CNN-IBN on another beggar like bilal,,,,the shoot was not aired and the beggar dissapeared!!! i was too guilty[because i feel i was the cause of his loss of livelihood-god alone knows where that disfigured beggar remember;the one near the park street metro station went] and scared for bilal and thus did not do any shoot for him. Heres a little something that i found out abt Bilal..............
"Every Kolkatan at some point has walked on this footpath, but it is surprising how very few or none have noticed Bilal.I always remember seeing Bilal, in his mid 40s, with no hands and a body so frail that one could easily count his ribs. According to the hawkers of this choringhee footpath Bilal has been lying on his stomach, shiverring, for the past 10-15 yrs.
Kolkata is full of men and women like bilal, some handicapped, blind with no rehabilitation and some like this man outside the park street metro station, literally rotting away in pain! and some so old that it is shameful to see them, from the comfort of our cars and taxis, having to stand in the sun and beg!
Unlike others who have made begging their occupation out of choice, People like them beg because they have no choice; who will give an old man or a man with no hands or legs a job today? There are others who wander with no clothes on without a trace of shame as a lot of them are mentally challenged.
The question is, what is the government doing? Where are the ever active human rights activists and NGO's? When it comes to people like this, where does the spirit of the residents of the city of joy go?Its Eid, Puja and Diwali time, people like them do not require those extra ten rupees that you have generously decided to spare, they need HELP!!
The agencies concerned, the citizens have to join hands to rehabilitate them and ensure them of their basic right, their right to life!!"

Saturday, February 16, 2008

colours


Colours

Splashes of colour filled my eyes
I could see them all, red, blue, yellow and green.
But, but they all looked the same!
Strange? I know I had seen them all!
But they were all of the same colour, they were all black!
How do I known then whether black is black,
or like the other colours, just appears to be so!

It all confused me, but I came to the conclusion:
That all these colours were just playing with me,
Fooling me perhaps.
I smiled, shook my head, took my stick and left!

Thursday, January 31, 2008


The Loss

I can feel your touch,
almost smell your soul
I can see your face,
when in my dreams you stroll.

I can experience the warmth everyday.
Those caring eyes that have so much to say
I can read your lips when in silence you whisper,
there can never be anyone else for me,
the way you are.

You are the light of my soul.
In the drama of my life,
you play the most important role.
but I have to face reality and reality is,
you are unreal.

unreal for good?
no, by no chance.
how I wish I could forget your, never before seen, glance.

My life has taken significant turns today
I have learnt to stand up.
But how I wish you were by my side,
see me grow.
How I wish your absence would not create a void inside me,
how I wish you were with me for real,
not a mere figment of my imagination,
not a fragment of my dream,
but a part of my existence.

I am still waiting for you with my eyes shut,
the way I have always been.
I no not what part I want you to play in my life,
a sister, a mother, a guide or a friend,
But someone, who in every role can blend.
Someone whose presence will fill my life with bliss
someone whose loss I will gravely miss!

God will…..

The world is topsy-turvy
Blood and flesh and tears is all that I can see.
Was I born to witness live bombs
Was I not born to be free.

One nation bombs the other
there is an attack on another,
innocence is drained of all its sanity
one life can kill today all humanity.

nine months does a mother protect her child in her womb
but today she stands with her hands outstretched
begging for his life when he is dead already,
waiting perhaps for a miracle, waiting for a boon.

The warmth of the world is so cold today!
that eyes are devoid of tears, these rivers have seized to flow, have dried.
The face is so awestruck with the world
that the light within has seized to glow.

There is darkness outside and darkness within
man today seems to have forgotten to distinguish between
great deeds and sin!
But the light of hope still glows
Dimly, but glows,
And the river of life, of new heartbeats, somewhere, quietly though, flows.

If men continue to destroy life,
send dust to dust,
if a mother is forced to grieve over the body of her child
because of someone’s greed for lust,
A day will come
when,
the killed will question the killers, and
the innocent will revenge the sinners.
And god will let the innocent have their say,
when he will be forced to pronounce,
“ Today is ‘Judgment day’”