Ayan

Twilight Days

2011-04-16T11:11:00.000-07:00

It has been long since I have felt like this. Its been a long time since I could actually relish my tea. With the classic Charminar. You know there is something about this tea. They serve it in a bhar(a clay cup).Well I have actually lost count on the number of times I had asked the chai-walla not to boil the tea leaves in milk-but to soak them in warm water. I had given up on him. But still years later when I came back I absolutely admire his tea. There's something that pulls me towards the good old “Mantur cha” or coffee at 15 Bankim Chatterjee Street, Kolkata 73. The adda sessions at Albert Hall has changed.But still the essence is very much there.

There was I time when my evenings would seem incomplete without Inner Eye, Kalpurush or Silpantar. Sandesh and Sesher Kobita is lost in the world wide web. There used to be an old man who had a music shop in Rippon street. He used sit in his little corner and tune his guitars. On an idle evening I can still hear him playing “Where are all the flowers gone”. I can actually see the winding lanes of Marsden Street and 65 Bentick Street before my eyes. I no longer listen to my favourites -Pink Floyd, Ray Charles, Aretha Franklin. Gone are my days when I used to spend hours together to finish “Jara Bristite bhijechilo” at one go.The soulful renditions of “Jete pari kintu keno jabo” echoes from a faraway land when I don't realize how my Sunday went past.

Boat rides at Outram Ghat at sunset is now just a memory. The river used to look breathtakingly beautiful from Princep Ghat during dusk.The other day when I was paying the bills at the swank new supermart that has come up near my home, I remembered how I used to bargain with the New Market or Fancy Market hawkers even if it was for bucks. I can almost feel the green of Maidan under my feet when I spent those never ending minutes struck in a traffic jam. I can almost see the black fairy trying to fly away from the marble dome of Victoria Memorial. How I proudly tell anybody who would listen that the Indian Musuem is the only one in the country to have a real Egyptian Mummy on display. Or the number of times I have told people about the resident ghosts of National Library.

I was deep into my work when my Outlook Calendar suddenly reminded me that I have got a dinner invitation at Barbeque Nation - one of those posh restaurants in town. Nowadays it takes an invite for me to go out and have fun. Also the fun comes at a steep price. Years back, I remember there was this bunch of young boys who on one fine day would decide that they are going to bunk the maths tuition and go and have Egg Rolls, from the para shop. The adolescent phucka dates or the muri aloo chop adda sessions at chai shops are things that I truly miss.There are many like this. Macher Jhol-Bhaat infront of Writer's or Nihari-Paya-Beef Biriyani in Rafi Ahmed Kidwai, Chello Kebab at Peter Cat, Pork Friedrice at Gunjan, Turkey or Hilsa at Waldorf, Ice cream sundaes at Hobby Centre, Chinese at China Town and Mone Rekho pan at College street are a few that deserves mention.Oh I forgot! The durga puja devi darshan (the ones in and around the pandal)at Maddox Square,College Square and Ekdalia was an integral part of my growing up days. So was beef steak and whisky at Olypub, the blues and jazz night at Some Place else. Then there was Saraswati Puja-the bengali V-day. The yellow saree and twinkling eyes' day. Then there are days when we used to drop by Tantra or incognito(don't tell my mom) to check out the mini skirt clad grooving to hit bollywood numbers.

I still honestly feel that a dozen Chinnaswamy Stadiums can be packed into one Eden Gardens.On a match day it was a ritual that we would feast on Biriyani sold at the stadium itself. Well it was more of a auction you see. Like at noon when there was ample chicken and potatoes a plate would cost you 50. Later when no meat pieces were left but a few potatoes are left behind they might give it to you at 25. The final price would be 10 when you would get only rice. I also earnestly feel that one who has not seen a Mohun Bagan-East Bengal clash at the football stadium has not seen what football can mean to a population of a good few lakhs-rather a few hundred truck load of people. Given a choice I would jolly well go back to the days so well spent at Millenium Park or Archies Galleries or at The Statesman Vibes.

I was restless in my bed. I dreamt of a day. It was raining heavily. I was cycling on a National Highway. The first showers of the year was washing away all the tears and heartbreaks of my adolscence. I wish I could relieve that day. I wish I could still bunk college and sneak into Academy to watch Nandikar or Bahurupi where Soumitra Chatterjee, Kaushik Sen, Rudraprasad or Swatilekha would perform. I wish I could spend those hours at Nandan back again when I had nothing to worry about but how to show my report card to dad. I wish that I can breathe the air of this city for the rest of life.........

Thank you

2010-05-23T15:36:00.000-07:00

In my 7^th world on the 7^th night in my 7^th dream you flashed through. But why?? don't know why ...even if I can live my entire life with that flash, I want to have you in every breath I take..The room is filled with smoke....Molasses and barley doing it's job well...The night is going into the Devil's hour....The light on my speaker system is glowing too strong..It's too dizzy out here, yet you seem so bright..so clear..so sharp.

With the smile you give 'there', makes me more alive. With the look you give inspires me. When I hear you speak, my broth stops... When I see you tensed, my pulse increases.... When you see someone else, my anger strikes...When you ignore, my love grows ... And when you show your love, my eyes closes, it's a feeling to cherish. With all my dreams trying to curve it's way to the front-line, I still have my greed powering over 'em. I need your lap to have my last sleep, I need you to wipe my blood after the last battle I fight.

Intrigued

2008-12-14T18:48:00.000-08:00

The vision is certainly not meant to be such adamantly blurry as we step into this festive season. Life has taken an unduly path of dumb stricken paranoia. The very air I breathe is clustered with advertent artificialities and precarious pretentions. It is irrational to think death is bad for us, because we do not think the nonexistence preceding our births is bad for us, and when we compare this period of nonexistence to death, we see the two are mirror images, alike in all respects.
The blossom atria crossed the swords and axed the wings of my narrow escapade from all the sins that I have done. No offense and no regret as it had to settle the personal feuds one day or the other. The smile was perfect for the winged and arrow tailed creature as the fight was drawn in his favour. I am wounded now, tired of blood and death heads. The unfathomed blasphemy married to the desecration has become one of the most talked about couples amongst the angelic boulevard. And I am so numb today that I can no longer hear the music of rain, I don’t cherish the taste of honey and I can’t see the colours the earth displays.
I dig deep to look for answers inside this cave of fortunes and now when the lights has faded, it’s dark ahead. When I tried to turn back and it is equally dark behind. I spin all around to see a glimpse of light to guide my way and realized this is no mirage of dreams. I am clutched under the merciless paws of darkness where there is no path ahead or probably I don’t carry enough glow with me to identify the path. I shout, I scream and hear my voice echoes back to me with more pitch and shrillness. And this is where the godsend idea sleeked through the rocks. I lighted my joint rolled out of weed with the phosphorous stones lying at my feet. This is when I felt may be watching the football match on ESPN can be much more fun than looking for these answers. One might argue that at least part of the harm for which death is responsible is incurred precisely when death occurs. But it is implausible to say that the harm of posthumous events is incurred when those events occur. A more promising strategy is to say it is accrued while its victim is alive.

Probashi Bangali

2008-02-03T20:39:00.000-08:00

“Probasi Bangali”…or. .. A term which has recently been incarnated in neon and glows, as it has become one of the finest ingredients of self marketing strategies…. Staying few grass fields away from Bengal may be in Jharkhand, Orissa, Assam or thousands of miles away in New York, London and Berlin comes under the same flavor of probasis…..

One will be amazed to see that these so called the society cream (how come? If they are not attached to the society at all) putting up funds and associations to reassess their attachments in a glamorous way…. How artificial can one be???
They would say they miss the parar more cha adda (local tea cafes), whereas these days a lot of youth doesn’t actually brush the caffeine turf moreover they might not know the taste even……
Just as they move away from Bengal, suddenly the Kolkata streets becomes crowdy and full of chaos and somehow Bengal doesn’t know how to handle traffic even if they are living in as busy cities like Delhi, Mumbai or Bangalore where office time vehicles find it hard to move an inch…..
I was wondering that in the city they lived for some 30 years has suddenly been clutched with the worst weather and becomes impossible to survive without an AC (just in case if they plan a trip back)…..
And you will notice a common term while conversing with them “your city….. my city” even if they might have just landed for a day or two in foreign or even planning to relocate….
They would claim that they are advance as they can hear all Bengali songs in CDs and DVDs whereas all of them are more or less manufactured and marketed here itself or even bought out here (Advancement huh!!!) and also organizing Biswa Banga Sangeet Sammelan I never came around to understand as to why they need to organize such music festivals and manifest they love for Bengali music and how they miss it… Since when reading ebooks over black and white letter imprinted on fibres from woodpulp accounted for advancement……..
They would invariably miss fish even if they don’t know the names and how does it taste…
You would come across quite a few probashis who would talk about Tagore, Bamkim, Tarashankar….. Without knowing what they actually say as they find it hard to read a single line in Bengali….
And of course you can easily spot them in the high priced restaurants offering Bengali cuisine… without the basic ingredients and taste missing (mind it…. The names of dishes are maintained with high values)……
And of course you will surely find a huge number of Bengali’s changing their names to adjust to the foreign standards( Madhusudan Nandy changed to Mod Nandi) for easy pronouncing……
I came across one such probashi who doesn’t like to eat dishes which are dark in colour…. With all my potential used I failed to make him understand that eating bright coloured dishes will not make his skin fairer as he is very hard to spot where there is no sun…..

They still complain about the shortcomings of Bengal without actually giving a thought for a solution…. What is use of teaching them culture and values with such high cost when they are to serve some other country, buy cars, flats and complain about Bengal being backward….. Hypocrisy has sneaked into them to such extent that some of them even finds it livelier to deny their roots and likes to call themselves as NRI ‘s rather Indian….. I wonder where would any of these land up finally???

Indian Railways At Your Service

2008-01-14T08:24:00.000-08:00

History shows that Trains started with those healthy horses pulling railed wagons charming it’s way through the streets…. But the gradual transformation and amendments has paved it’s way from Polish steam engines to British 153 class DMU … from Chicago SP freight to German class 423 EMU sets…….. from V43 Hungarian locomotives to Japanese high speed Shinkansen 500 series and finally banking on Monorails….. But amidst all odds Indian Railways had it’s own ethnicity ….. A charm which reminds me of 16th century swashbucklers fighting every prejudice and creating a pride for themselves …… Indian Railways boasts for it’s second largest connectivity in the world…. And sometimes it is said that the present tracks if put back to back, will revolve the Earth twice……
Let me share some of my travelling experiences and tricks I learnt for Indian Railways…….
· No matter when you try to get a ticket, you would invariably find yourself in the waiting list category…. Guess your hard luck or you are always too late to decide for the trip
· Just in case if one do wish to travel in General compartment do not worry ….. it’s served free… you will hardly ever find a checker up there…specially if it’s superfast
· Waiting list ticket??? Indian Railways’ black coats at your service… cost may vary from Rs 200 - Rs 250 for a berth … depending upon your bargaining skills
· Waiting list ticket??? Couldn’t manage the checker??? You might get RPF do the work for you with the bribe ranging Rs 250 – Rs 300… rates might sometimes go down…bargain buddy…..
· Finally if nothing works try out the handicapped compartment with a cash of Rs 300
· Wanna smoke??? Problems with RPF and TTI ….bathrooms at your service… or sometimes people like to smoke standing just below no smoking board…. Bravo Bravehearts …
· Getting bored in general compartment??? Ask for 29…. Sure you gonna get enough players to even stand and play… no matter what the situation, or position is ….always up for 29
· Wanna seat in general compartment??? Pay the coolie Rs 15 - Rs 20 for the wood and Rs 25- 30 for the bunks…. Great sleep …ahhhhh!!!
· Don’t wanna spend extra cash… carry newspaper and find yourself the compartment with some extra space between berths and bathrooms…
· “Hijre”…. beware!!! Be stubborn n arrogant… but don’t shell out a penny on them…. No matter what the pestering is…. One needs to persist
· Oh!! You can always find women washing utensils and men carrying bathing accessories … as if they are in home… what a home at a rent of mere 250 bucks
· And children …. Their allowance is unlimited… they can go anywhere wearing the shoe..even in bed… and of course use the whole train as bathroom…. Anywhere and everywhere….
But in spite of everything railways still remains one of the major transportations in India and the cheapest ………………..

Bollywood et al

2007-11-02T05:35:00.000-07:00

The eccentricity of Bollywood films is one of the most talked about paradigm in Indian cinema, with it’s elaborate song and dance routines………… Yet propelling ambiguity…….. Well, its thrust on world cinema had quite an effective blossom…. It can be considered as the true reflection of Persistence of vision and not to mention Beta movement and Phi Phenomenon… There are quite a few reasons behind why these movies should be considered important………..

The skimpily dressed heroine dancing in the rain….and then falls in love with the hero…..suddenly becomes fully clad …….a rape attempt follows……….hero comes to rescue beating up 15 odd rapists all by himself (all breaking knifes and swords not to mention car windows and boxes in a smuggled goods’ godown……and whatever that crosses his path) lends his jacket to cover the already covered body after being rescued….and then the heroine comes to return his jacket and they fall in love…..what a fallacy!!!!
I also wonder why it rains every time they start singing and dancing around the trees……if it’s a Yash Chopra or a Karan Johar movie the rain is replaced by snowfall in Switzerland…..!!!!
Also One of their greatest achievements would be dancing in the middle of trafficking road under the scorching heat in summers………. Weird fantasy!!!!!
Costumes ….. Aha……. Wearing red mini skirts and purple Brassiere …… ideal for their boogie in the wintry snow…. And of course wearing black Mask of Zorro costume in the desert cannot be ignored…are they really made up of flesh and blood???
Songs……..For all occasions….to express their heart felt sorrow for the dying hero’s mum or heroine’s pa…...to celebrate the heroine’s first pregnancy….all to mourn your life when heroine ditches the poor hero and marries a rich man…….not to mention she keeps loving the hero all her life and eventually helped by her husband to get back to her Ex-Flame…..sometimes it may also happen that she might fall in love with her rich husband too(aka aishwarya rai in hum dil de chuke sanam) And of course no matter when n where they sing, musicians and team of dancers are always ready to increase the effects (whether in the village or city, may it be on top of the mountain or in the middle of the sea)
Double Role………. Even if the hero dies …don’t get depressed ….there always remains a chance of his existence though with a different identity but with same physique and face…… PS: they might not posses any blood relation.
Villains…. They ought to have good brain, brawn, wealth, power and everything that is socially disgraceful…. But heroes always have super powers in their possession… they can alone finish up the whole gang with style… and up to six-seven bullets can always be considered…….somehow villains are very bad with their aim…even with truck full of ammo they fail to finish a job for which our hero needs just one
The film must contain a love affair with either of the pair should be filthy rich and the other “begging” poor…same standards not accepted…..
Love making scenes …………. If you find two flowers moving or ceiling fan revolving just after a hugging scene…exercise your imagination…..P.S. things are different in a film starring Mallika Sherawat.

Bollywood films featuring romantic musicals that were highly melodramatic about wealth, beauty and glamour, which now have become a staple in the genre. Stereotypes of popular cinema, addressing poverty and adversity, instead of the fairytale story lines is quite popular among the educated elite, as the masses who had been brought up on the diet of happy, unrealistic films found them unappealing. Whether or not you enjoy these fantastic films, it's important to recognize the substantial presence of Bollywood in the modern film industry. OH HELL!!!!

Sale..Sale..Sale....Upto 50% discount

2007-07-13T00:44:00.000-07:00

Technicism is an over reliance or overconfidence in technology as a benefactor of society. Taken to extreme, some argue that technicism is the belief that humanity will ultimately be able to control the entirety of existence using technology. In other words, human beings will eventually be able to master all problems, supply all wants and needs, and possibly even control the future. Some, such as Monsma, connect these ideas to the abdication of religion as a higher moral authority. Because current technologies are generally accepted as good, future technological developments are not considered circumspectly, resulting in what seems to be a blind acceptance of technological developments.

In this world of virtual ordinance, we are so much abducted to these procure advancements that human tend to sell off their predicament of principles and culture diaphanously. One of our greatest writers has been diminishing and converted to premiere entities of business paradigm in Bengal and related communities. Today works of Tagore is more valued for it’s industrial and marketing measures more than it’s literary contribution and intellect. It has become a brand name, with his works technically overtaken by remixes and showbiz. Come to think of it, in a birthday celebration one of the death bed songs being played. As Tagore is what matter and not the music or the meaning of it.

Leonardo di ser Piero da Vinci ……… better know as Da Vinci has been subjected to much recent speculation for one it’s popular works The Last Supper for it’s symbolism. And these speculation is instigated to volatile the imitation sales. Today a condom factory office would put up such great imitation just to provoke the interior decoration technique losing the very essence of it’s symbolism. In a contemporary advertisement it is advisable to put up something new. And so an electronic goods company decides to put Jesus Christ at stake. He actually danced to the tunes and melodies sprinkling out of that juke box. His crucifixion and divinity has been sold to the computer graphics fantasies. Oh!! What an art of visualization??

Nothing is more confusing, for someone not familiar with music history, than to hear about something like: "classical music". One could define this term as: 'a kind of art form which has proved to be of a mature nature and balanced in emotions and formal structure. In normal language it simply means that this music is not belonging to the range of easy listening or pop music. It requires a certain level of involvement of the listener. The term 'classic' came in vogue after Ludwig van Beethoven death (1827) and denotes the perfection of form structure, the humanitarian continence and aesthetic ideals. One can freely translate 'classical' by adapting virtues as "truth, beauty, symmetry and harmony" as well as simplicity and clarity. Emotion, reason, continence and structure create a subtle balance in the outlook of the composition. You can truly say that the obtained result is 'timeless'. Is it???... How well it has been defined when a car in it’s reverse gear grounding the High Classical Period musician Joannes Chrysostomus Wolfgangus Theophilus Mozart or a high priced lighter singing Late Baroque Period composer Johann Sebastian Bach amidst the fire to light up a cigarette.

Advertisements, broadcasts and marketing strategies are slowly becoming parasites to the society…. It is eating up the ability to think…. It forces the consumers to buy the products with lifted costs….. In fictional literature such as Faust by Goethe, Faust's selling his soul to the devil in return for power over the physical world, is also often interpreted as a metaphor for the adoption of industrial technology. Thus we shall never experience our relationship to the essence of technology so long as we merely conceive and push forward the technological, put up with it, or evade it. Everywhere we remain chained to technology, whether we passionately affirm or deny it.

Slaves.........How long???

2007-06-30T11:49:00.000-07:00

Bang…Boom…..gun shots could be heard from various directions….tanks firing shells….fighters jets landing deaths …….and we are the soldiers of fortune……we are in a state of war……with blood defining the colour of river…and black is what we get to wear.

This is an actual, intentional and widespread armed conflict between the mortals and omniscient. The mere threat of war and the presence of mutual disdain between them do not suffice as indicators of war. The conflict of arms should be actual and not merely latent to fight on. What a battle to be won which starts when the child is born as we open our eyes to the day it gets closed. But human never gave up and probably will never give up.

Well… The onset of war requires a conscious commitment, and a significant mobilization, on the part of the belligerents in question. There's no real war, so to speak, until the fighters intend to go to war and until they do so with a heavy quantum of force. Realism is a complex and often sophisticated doctrine; its core propositions express a strong suspicion about applying moral concepts, like justice, to the conduct of factual affairs. And even with all the forces joined we will still succumb to the imminent adversaries. We know it….. Still we try to overcome the inevitable. Can we???

But it seems at least obvious that a divine infinite being conceived of as necessary infinitely knowledgeable would also know how? A finite person dying feels like as He would have access to all knowledge including the obvious experiences of the dying human. If man is truly free to choose between different alternatives, it is very difficult to understand how He could know in advance which way he will choose. We are ready…. So come on board as we need a lot of soldiers… As time, though has never been defeated but…… Probably someday we can… we might…and we will.

In Love with a Whore.....

2007-06-29T23:25:00.000-07:00

Today, this is my offering to show my respect and gratitude towards a whore, who has been defying the very existence of such genre. “She”….. She has the power to accept every single individual who just have to act as her customer. They can be a fair skinned filth or a dark skin saint. They can be a white collared monster or a blue coloured saviour. It is “she” who welcomes and broadcasts all are welcome to enjoy the pleasure of her lap. All are welcome to facilitate the sweat on her lips and the warmth between her thighs. And she has the power to take it all. She for ages is the shelter of desires, in which we are all captives.

On this day, I proudly confess, that I’m in love. I’m in love with this woman. I can sense, she is the one for whom I can bleed. She is the one for whom I can draw my first blood. In her name my heart snivel. In her name, my tears flow down my cheeks. And if you can read my tears, you can see her portrait, serene and calm. You will be able to feel her divinity, her eternity. It is because of her I’ve tasted my youth my life. The ever increasing debts never seems to stops, as my hungers grows to void in. I seek the path to thank her for her unconditional love. As she stands tall for her unnamed duty towards the trivial who never sensed the necessity of understanding her. She screams under the dark night and smiles in the morning. And yes, I’m proud of being in love with such a whore who does not fashion to void her stomach or her earthly pleasures but for our never satisfying demands. This puts me under an obligation and imprisonment behind the bars of romance, culture and humanity. I bow down to her, for she is my home, my city Kolkata.

Discrepancy of Evolution

2007-06-28T09:08:00.000-07:00

And so we talked all night under the dark sky with the stars peeping into our weightless conversation…. We talked of our future, where we gonna be….I kept on bolstering myself that times will never change and it will always be the same….alas!! The reason only why can I shore up the thoughts….

The moments, the days, the nights we spent together will never come back ….and we’ll no more be hanging out as we chose (flown to) different tracks…..now that big jobs and big money makes the cut ….if we look back …will our jokes still be funny??? It was the time when breaking the rule was the unofficial hostel rule…. It was the time when we need to be late as the morning bell rung….the time when the mugs and glasses were made empty in a smoky room…the moments of laughter and smiles bottled through….

In a moment we were Keats, Frost, Shelly and Zidane, Beckham, Figo on the other… and sometimes we were Marlon Brando, Al Pacino … sometimes we were Mithun and Akshay….. And at times we were the squeaky philosophers clustering about life and suddenly we were zooming into feminine fantasies….oh hell the guitars and drums to harmonium and tabla….head banging with Guns n Roses and Iron Maiden to weepy Tagore…..not to mention the evergreen complains against the mess and the mush…. When the masks fell we were same old friends again…pinching, taunting, fighting and tickling……

Where have our night long movie sessions gone?? Where have our dizzy mornings gone?? Where has our eleventh hour management for the semesters gone?? Desks are converted to tables….T-shirts and jeans has been replaced by formal trousers and tie…cello maxwriter has been replaced by parker…… traveling without ticket in general compartment has modified to AC two tiers and flights and in most advertency laughter into busy disambiguating the slavery…

Now that we have turned into women and men shall the shadow of the past follow us around….shall the memories fade away as we leave for the crown?????