First Cut.....Random Thoughts

The God I know

2012-10-17T09:37:00.000-07:00

There are two Gods in the world. One - that created the human; the other – created by human. I believe in the God who created mankind not the one created by mankind. The God created by man has many names – Ram, Allah, Jesus…..etc. The God who created us has no name or shape. It’s an enigma beyond the general concept of human and as off now we do not understand this God. The early civilization, gave various names to this God as they could not understand rain, storms, lighting, flood, disease, birth or death. As science progressed, we understood some of these and God’s name was taken away from them. But by that we have created a big halo around God and the business of religion spawn into a full-time profession. So the Gods continued their presence as few others used God’s name to control the rest without being a king. This is a very successful model to control the frenzy of general public. So the rules came out from these Gods thru the middlemen – Pray 5 times a day, eat veg, go to Mass on Sunday, Fast on Monday ………an endless list of rules were designed to bind the followers into a cohesive bunch. That’s the reason the God created by human has so many rules. The God who created human does not any such rules or expectation from us. He is shapeless, ageless and supreme powerful. He is a mystery. We as human are yet to understand this God. As off now it is beyond our perception to see, feel or know this God. He is beyond the boundary Science and technology. That has not only created humans, he also created everything else in this universe. We need to understand this difference between…otherwise we will keep following the bluff called religion and the Gods created by their leaders. The understanding will help us in appreciating the tradition behind all the religious rules and Gods that exists today……at the same time it would also help us in knowing the efficacy of such Gods/rules. Once this knowledge is internalized, no hate speech can instigate a mob to become communal, no amount of brain washing can turn a young boy into a terrorist, no Guru can make you to live a life that is not yours and above all…nobody can stop you from loving others.

Moronic Verses

2012-10-17T09:30:00.001-07:00

The world is filled with Chutiyas (morons). I am seriously thinking of developing a new range of innovative products - Chutiya repellent coils, Chutiya jammers, Anti-Chutiya cream, Chutiya alarms, Chutiya-proof homes etc. Like this post to pre-book your gadget……today. I have a few more ideas up my sleeve like forming a group in line with IAC – India Against Chutiyas. Vote me for a Chutiya free world, if you are tired of waiting for the reincarnation of John Lennon to sing – Imagine there’s no Chutiyas.

Every human being is a born Chutiya. Chutiyappa is the common characteristic that binds the entire humanity. Life will be no fun if they are not present in such overwhelming nos in the form of your office peers, bosses, friends and mundane service providers like traffic cops and random public figures like Robert Vadhera. You may call Alex, who jumped from the edge of the space, a chutiya, but then what about the guys who shot a 14 year old girl on her head for wanting to go to school? I call them Chutiyas of highest order and strongly recommend their names for the Nobel Prize for displaying “rarest of rare” Chutiyagiri.

I just hope that my new product lines work against them.

Leap of Faith

2012-10-17T06:58:00.003-07:00

A Giant leap of faith

Call it a flight of fancy on a windswept field
Or a ribbon stretched to the point of no return

But I have decided to fly

No longer living a prayer

As a misfit with condition grounded

Breaking the grasp of invisible leash

I have decided to fly

On this moment of truth

Standing alone my senses reeled

For a sweet dream

Unearthed by the morning light

I have decided to fly

The Elephant God

2012-09-27T10:30:00.000-07:00

He was not sure if it was a window or a cage door; the darkness around the vertical metal bars made it impossible to determine. All of a sudden, a giant fireball blasted open the cage door or window or whatever it was, and a voice screamed - “Make your life worth living for those for whom you live, otherwise they will ask for death to liberate them and if YOU don’t kill them, it would only heighten the AGONY”

Apurv woke up with a startle and tried to make sense of the surrounding. Cacophony of stupid cartoon characters coming from the hall and the monotonous noise of the exhaust fan with a damaged bearing from the nearby kitchen of a veg restaurant brought him back to the reality of his own world. He realised it was a Sunday. The last Sunday before Ganesh festival. Because of that he has been working from the morning – cleaning the bathroom, de-dusting the cupboards, washing the sneakers. Although Assamese by birth & upbringing, Apurv has been living in various cities of Maharashtra from last 7 years and his wife has adopted well to the local culture. Seven years back, when they got posted in Nasik, everything about this festival intrigued them. The rituals, duration, pomp and galore associated with the 11 day long festival appeared very strange to Apurv. But slowly it became part of their life – preparing their daughters for dance, participating in couple’s competitions, preparing food stall, singing in the evening Arti – the places and the societies changed but the basics remained same. So tired was Apurv after lunch that he crashed on the bed even without tasting the trial mocktail prepared by Mon, his wife (This time she and her Malayali friend will sell Appam & Mocktails – Holy nexus!! – in the food stall).

He approached the only hut like thing in the distance. There was a flicker coming from that place but again the darkness around was making everything very confusing. He had been to Matheran once and the small road now looked exactly like the haunted roads of Matheran. He saw a small signboard – “Fire on the Left”. Fire on the left? Why? What is on right or ahead?

Apurv was fascinated by the way Maharashtrians celebrate Ganesh festival. Idol makers prepare six months in advance. You see basic structure slowly turn into beautiful idols, some huge and some just cute, and then on the eve of the festival, the idols would be picked up with lot of fanfare. The madness associated with the whole process is very similar to Durgapuja. Out of their inherent love for social mingling, the Sharmas would be central part of the society Ganesh puja - Mon taking care of events involving kids & wives, Apurv taking care of sports & general arrangements. Relatives back in Assam fail to understand their hectic schedule when they pick up courtesy calls and say ‘Busy in Ganesh puja....will call you back.’

There was a tall man inside the hut. Yes it was a hut, he could see it now. The tall man was talking to himself in a strange language. He could not understand it. ‘Can I get some water?’ He asked licking his dried lips. ‘Can’t you see the sign on the way? ‘But it said fire on the left’. ‘Ha ha ha (oh that deafening hoot!)...out here in the jungle we quench our thirst with FIRE’

Apurv got up. Mon was fast asleep in the master bedroom with their younger daughter. His elder daughter was busy watching cartoons. How they could see such stupid and ugly cartoons? He could never understand the new generation!!!! Apurv has been dreaming. Strange dreams. Random dreams. Dreams without any head or tail. He needed to know what they mean. Absentmindedly he picked up the Sunday Times lying on the table. ‘Massacre in Assam’ screamed the headline. Why was it occurring every day?

And then he saw the river, the mighty son of Brahma. He ran towards it and when he reached its bank, he realised the sand was dragging his feet. Millions of hands were just coming out of sand and pulling him down. He knew his time has come and he tried to remember what that voice behind the window or the cage door or whatever it was, told him.

Growing up in Dhubri, Assam, Apurv loved the mighty Brahmaputra. The river had a beauty of its own; for every hour of the day, every season of the year. As an orphan, Apurv’s only companion during those days was the river. He would walk around the banks for hours, sometime wandering into the nearby jungles only to return home with a bruised ankle. Rahim Chacha, his foster father, who saved him from communal riots, would wash his wounds and warn him. In the night he would relive for the hundredth time the story told by his foster father.

He was losing his vision. But still could hear some noises. Faint but clear – ‘save my son, please!’ The voice was familiar but long lost. It had the sound of a bamboo tree rustling in the wind. He could hear the voice echoing thru mind when all of a sudden, a giant fireball blasted open the cage door or window or whatever it was, and a voice screamed - “Make your life worth living for those for whom you live, otherwise they will ask for death to liberate them and if YOU don’t kill them, it would only heighten the AGONY”

The mobile was ringing. An unknown no was being displayed. ‘Hello.’ ‘Can I speak to Apurv Sharma?’ ‘Yes’ ‘Hi, my name Samuel and I am calling from a refugee camp in Dhubri’ ‘Yes’ ‘Last night we received a 5 year old boy by the name Mustaque in serious condition. He carried a letter with your name & mobile number. In the letter, a person named Rahim has requested to call you as soon as the boy is in the camp.’ Rahim…..the name Apurv left 20 years back. ‘Hello are you there Mr. Sharma?’ ‘Yes’ ‘Nobody in the village survived the brutal attack yesterday night, but miraculously, this boy survived and he has your contact details. Do you know this boy or this person called Rahim? If yes, we were wondering if you could take him from here as a guardian.’ Apurv stood still and then the events in his life went past in reverses…as if in a flashback. The dreams were slowly making sense now. ‘Hello…Mr. Sharma Can you hear me?’

He is talking to the river. The river replies to him by washing his feet.

Apurv smiled and told Mustaque “let’s welcome the Elephant God” and slowly joined the dancing group consisting of his daughters, Mon and other society residents, “Ganapati Bappa Mourya”.

AEC Diary - Love Story of a Monster

2012-09-15T11:51:00.002-07:00

We had this monster looking senior who enjoyed drinking in the daytime. While all others would be busy attending classes, he would take bath, have lunch and then open a bottle of cheap booze in his room. He was of the opinion that true booze lovers enjoy his drink only in daytime. According to him, nights were for other ‘recreations’.

Now drinking alone could be very boring, so he would invariably ask one the freshmen to accompany him. Among the freshmen, this was known as the “marble session”. Like a marble which can take any direction after hitting the floor, this session also had the notoriety of turning really bad some and very nice for others. Legend had that if you can sing some particular type of songs that this senior liked, you would at best end up singing for 3 hours. But if you can’t sing, you would have to entertain him enough to avoid getting banged.

Finally my day of reckoning came. With absolutely zero singing talent and no other form of “entertaining” talent; I entered the room with mental preparation to get thrashed.

“Boh” (Sit). “Mod khao?” (Do you drink?)

“Khao” I knew from my experience that saying “I drink” had better impact than saying – sorry I don’t (Ke*la..cottonot ki korisili..khali kobi dili? Nekhao? Kiyo nekhao?.....unnecessarily leading to other directions)

“khaabi?” (Want to have a drink?) – Another tricky question. Yes & No both can generate extreme reactions. I followed the golden rule – keep mum and stare at the floor

“Mor karone peg eta bona” (OK, Make me one). A test to see if you were actually used to drinks. After the initial niceties and 2 large pegs (made by me), Mr. Monster was in his relaxed form. Adjusting his big belly on the bed, he turned his focus to the real business

“Gaan gao?” (Do you sing?)

“Nai dada” (No) Oh no!!!

“I am bored. What can you do to entertain me?”

Thinking on my feet, I replied “Dada I am very good at extempore speech. Give me a topic and I will make a story out of it” Oh no! Oh no!!

“Atchaa?” bemused at this unexpected return strike, he gave me the topic – “Love story of Mr. Monster”. Cursing my big mouth, I narrated the following story

“You are a young handsome boy studying in class 10. Puberty has just kicked in and everything appears very beautiful to you, especially this girl in class IX whom you have been eyeing from last 6 months. Whenever you see her, your cheek turns red and you don’t know what to say. You have been living with this feeling from last 6 months but do not have the guts to tell her. Being the first boy of your class, you are also burdened with the expectation of doing well in impending metric exam. You decide to propose to her after the exam. You study hard and think about her during the breaks. You take a round of her house in your cycle with a hope to catch a glimpse of her in the evenings. Finally the days of wait are over and you think of an innovative way to propose to her. After consulting with your best friend, you decide to write her a love letter. After a lot of effort you compose a letter and decide to give it to her in a notebook. You wait that day on the road which she normally takes to return home after school. You see her coming. You call her by name as she passes you. You feel awkward and somehow manage the courage to tell her that you have feelings for her. You try to hand over the notebook that contained the love letter. She stares at you and says “Dada our parents are good friends. If they come to know about this, they would kill us. More ever, I am in class 10 and I want to focus on my studies. Please leave me alone”. You are heartbroken. You try to make sense out of the situation but all your senses fail. Next few days, nothing makes you happy. You remain lost in your own world. And then the results of metric exams are declared. You are a star. Everybody in your small place hails you as a hero. You take admission in a city college. You will stay in the hostel. You are about to catch the bus to go to the hostel. And then you see her are coming. Not knowing what to do, you board the bus and sit near the window to steal a few glances before leaving. Just when the bus starts she comes near you and hands over a small envelop. Before you could say something, the bus leaves. She waves and you are dumbstruck. You open the envelope to find the greatest gift of your life. She loves you and wants you to write back from hostel”

The original narration had a lot more graphic details about the place, girl and other surroundings and took me more than an hour to complete. Not knowing how he would react, I wondered if I should ask for a peg before being thrashed or telling a new story. But luckily for me, he just shook hands with me (back then, it was a rare gesture!) and asked me to leave

Years later (he used to come to clear his ‘back’) he told me over a drinking session how that story of mine that day reminded him of his own and how he took to drinking even after having a nice girlfriend (that’s another story for another time). That day I learned - you can talk your way out of a situation, but you can never talk your way out of life.

AEC Diary - Charminar with a Filter

2012-09-15T11:48:00.003-07:00

Hostel experience was not new to me. After enjoying 2 beautiful years in MNDP/DS, I knew what was in store for me when I set my foot on AEC H-2. There were many seniors in AEC whom I knew from Cotton college days and they told me the ground rules of survival. So on first night when I got exposed to ragging, there was no shock, only apprehension till you get the first slap. After that it was quite mechanical. One of the unofficial ground rules for a raggee was to keep mum & heads down when confronted with tricky questions by seniors. As a fresher I soon discover that the probability of a violent reaction was equal for an affirmative or a negative answer. A typical example would be – senior #1 would ask you to say something nasty about Senior #2’s FG. If you say it, senior #2 would slap you and if you refuse, senior #1 would slap you. So the better option was to stare at the floor and keep mum. In most cases, such behavior was no fun for the seniors and hence they would search for a better murga than you and leave you without slapping.

One of our friends joined the hostel one week late and learned this valuable lesson the hard way. On the fateful night, we were called by a senior for the usual “fun” session. In between displaying our “hidden” talents, the senior lit a cigarette. It was a Charminar (the budget fag) affixed to the filter of a Wills Navy cut. Marveled at his own creativity of making a filtered puff from a lowly charminar, the senior asked us what the brand of the cigarette was. We, the veteran reggees, knew the truth but as per the golden rule kept mum because either answers (Charminar or Wills) can put you in trouble (eg Answer Charminar - Ke*a toi mok ki bhikhaari buli bhabiso neki be? Slap! Charminarot filter thaake neki be? Slap. Answer Wills –Wills buli kot likha aase be? Slap). Unaware of this duality, our poor new friend said in all innocence “Dada it is a Charminar but you have affixed a Wills butt into it”.

That night he learned two valuable lessons in life. One - the moronic ”keep mum & stare at the floor” golden rule (Apparently he still uses it on his wife to get out of tricky situations), second – when nobody answers a simple question with obvious answers, act like a moron rather than a smartass

Teacher's Day

2012-09-15T11:43:00.000-07:00

I had a craze for Cadbury Fruit & Nut (CF&N) in younger days. My mother would always keep a pack for me whenever I used to come home from hostel. Over the years, I have eaten so much CF&N that I started hating the taste of it. But my mom kept the tradition just because I used to love it. Not wanting to disappoint her, I developed a method to tolerate this annual treat by avoiding CF&N throughout the year. This would make me relish the chocolate during my annual home trip. Just the thought of the affection & caring behind the chocolate would make me hungry for more. Then came a period in my life...which is now.....when every time I see the juicy bar in a shop, I think of my mom...invariably ending up eating one. Today is teacher’s day and I am sitting with a big bar of Cadbury Fruit & Nut......Acknowledging the greatest teacher in my life who taught me everything......Happy teacher’s day

Heavenly Issue

2012-09-10T11:22:00.000-07:00

Lord Vishnu is angry. You can see it on His face. He is walking from one end of the giant lotus where He normally lies down at this time of the day, to the other. Not today. Today He is worried. Worried because He has been told by a group of Devtas just now that Indralok is about to go bankrupt. Unless He does something drastic and quick, it’s going to be the end of the Universe.

He still remembers the day when Bramha came to Him to warn. Brahma explained to him the revenue model of heaven. Not that He does not know about it, but after all the incarnations and a few thousand years on the trot, even Lord Vishnu is allowed to forget a few trivial things. Vishnu asked Brahma if those wonderful process excellence tools, invented by human can be used up here on Indralok to save a few bucks. “Not when Indra and his fellow Devtas consume 50,000 lit Somras everyday” Brahma was quick to reply. “Especially not when you insist on retaining the same old dancers like Urvashi & Menaka by doing plastic surgery” Narad was even quicker. “But the doctors have done a wonderful job” Vishnu thought aloud but did not say it for the fear of a stern look from Laxmi who has been insisting on a nose job from last 3 decades. Focus Vishnu focus – He brings back his mind to the heavenly issues again.

He calls for an emergency meeting of the Trinity council - Brahma, Vishnu, Maheshar. Actually it’s more of a one man show. Shiv, now a day is completely intoxicated. Nandi, apparently has experimented with so many varieties of grass that Mahadev now does not even need a chillum. Brahma is suffering from dementia and Vishnu wandered if the meeting will even last till lunch

“Team we have a problem” Vishnu opened with his usual calm voice. Today He was tense

Brahma: “Oh. I must have forgotten to flush the toilet”

Shiv: “That’s why I don’t tell Parvati where I keep my collection of..eh”

Vishnu:”Guys guys guys it’s not what you think. We have a code RED here and I need immediate attention from all of you”

Brahma:”What is code RED”

Shiv: “Give me Reeeeeeeeed. Huh huh ha”

Vishnu:”We ARE red. Kaput. Khallas. No more money for your phoney trips or your old age medicine pals. Get up. Give me some hand here”

This made both Shiva and Brahma the jolt to bring them to the senses. Vishnu explained to them the revenue model of Indralok. “As you are aware, we print a million Mudras for every honest politician or Babu from our beloved earthly place called India. In the last couple of centuries we got fantastic brands like Gandhi, Ambedkar, Subhas which kept the Mudra value way below the Dollar giving us a fiscal surplus. But all of a sudden we stopped getting honest politicians and babus from India. Honest politicians are such a rarity in India that the term is taught as an example of oxymoron in schools now a days. So I need your advise on improving the situation”

Shiv:”I heard about this guy called Anna. What about him? Can we bank on him?

Vishnu:”May be yes..may be no. The way his fellow partners are going......I am not sure”

Brahma being the practical guy, suggested a few business ideas. “Let’s print a Mudra for the air people breath every day. 120 Cr people... 120 Cr Mudras everyday.”

Vishnu:”Not a bad idea. I think all the internet entrepreneurs are doing exactly the same. Make it free at first and then once people are addicted.....start a nominal fee”

Suddenly Shiv realised that He needs to contribute too (otherwise listen to the same jargons during yearend appraisal and raise for more joints). “How about printing a Mudra for every 30ml consumed in India”

”Not a bad idea” Vishnu realised suddenly that the meeting is warming up. He switched off the iPhone so that Laxmi does not disturb Him. He hates to switch off the gadget which was personally gifted to him by Steve, but today it’s a matter of life and death. Pondering over Bholebom’s idea, Vishnu made a rough mental calculation of the Mudra numbers. He did not like what He got.

“We need much more than that”. Vishnu declared

The trio tried everything at their disposal but nothing really came out. When they were about to call it a day, it struck the trinity that why not capitalise the very fact that is making the Indralok bankrupt.

“Let’s print a Mudra for every act of corruption that a babu or neta commits” The trio cried in unison......And thus the heaven survived to live another lifetime

What's in Your Mind?

2012-08-18T12:10:00.001-07:00

Login to Facebook and the first thing it asks you is - what’s in your mind? Why do you want to know what’s in my mind. There are hundreds of things that are in my mind. Do you really care? OK I had a fight with my wife and I want to kill her. Or sample this - I am dying to kick on the balls of my boss. See why would you care? So why ask. Do you want me to vomit out my personal thoughts to my friends? They will no longer be my friend!!! And what if I don’t tell you what’s on my mind. Does that mean I don’t have a mind!!!! Screw you Mark, I don’t even know if I have a mind. By the way, what’s in your mind? Money, litigations, failed IPO????

Ok let’s make a deal. I tell you what’s in my mind and you tell me how to do it. Right now the only thing that’s going on my mind is world peace. Duh!!! OK I want it now. ASAP. Pronto. Lohkar. Etiyaye. Can you make it happen? Huh?

I know you can’t and that’s why I don’t want to tell you what’s in my mind.

Declaration of Independence

2012-08-18T11:57:00.001-07:00

You are a slave of your heart or mind, depending upon the type of person you are. Both these drivers, heart & mind, are highly influenced by the external factors like religion, society, economy and at times corporate culture. Why the world expects you to behave in a certain way? Why can’t I be myself.....for a change?

You try to behave the way the world around you has been preaching you to behave from your childhood. Clip your nails, wear proper dress, respect your elders, study hard to become successful in life......Have you ever thought that that there is a grand scheme in the background that has been working day & night just to condition your.....well heart and/or mind. You want be a loving husband, caring father, dotting son....the list is never ending. Yet none of your efforts actually makes any sense as they are expected anyway from you. This is THE price you pay to be born as a man. You should anyway do all of the above.....that’s the way all forms of life on earth do without a constant reminder from their bosses, wives, kids or parents.

I want to declare my independence from such pretentions and live a life free of expectation.

In Search of Sanity

2012-08-17T11:22:00.001-07:00

Thousands of people leaving their workplace just on rumors.........It just does not make sense. There is more to it then what meets the eyes. A few people may leave based on a SMS or a threat to a friend’s friend, but such mass exodus!!!!! I think the folks are not revealing the real reason for this fear psychosis. Underneath the surface there is a fault line waiting to rupture open. Sooner we discover it, the better it would be for India

You are a security guard working in a software company in contract. You earn far more than your friends back home and generally happy about your standard of living. Your kids can go to a better school, your wife is away from joint family and you enjoy a break once in a while in your bike by riding down the MG Road. One day you hear news of Ethnic violence in your hometown. You are shocked when you hear about clashes of your family members with a different community. You thank God that your family members are safe but feel sorry for the disgusting violence in your hometown. You condemn the politicians and pray to God that one day sanity will prevail. Your life is about to turn normal when your friend calls up and asks you if you have received an SMS. The next thing we know is that you are rushing to the railway station to board the first train to your home town. You don’t even go to your employer or carry your valuables. How realistic is this? May be OK for a couple of guys, but 10,000........Something is amiss.......It just does not add up.....Can somebody decode the missing link for me. There is something sinister going around which has nothing to do with communal or ethnic violence. It is easier to blame it on politicians but I don’t see how it is benefitting them.

I just hope and pray, like my security guard friend, that sanity shall prevail......soon

The School Bus

2012-08-02T11:28:00.000-07:00

School bus is widely considered to be the safest mode of transportation back and forth to school. Traveling by a school bus confers substantial environmental & financial benefits that make it best among all transport alternative. Riding a school bus is an enjoyable experience for most children but the recent spate of accidents compels us to scrutinize the safety of children in these buses. Incidents like the Chennai “School bus floor cave in” that claimed the life of a six-year-old girl and the 30^th June “School bus - BEST bus head on collision” in Mumbai that left 15 kids hurt, clearly point towards badly maintained buses and errant drivers as the main culprits in most accidents. If your child daily travels by a yellow bus then you should be aware of factors that affects both – physical health of a bus and mental health of the driver

Supreme Court of India has laid down certain guidelines to be followed by the enforcement and educational authorities with regard to safety of school buses. Parents should ensure that the bus contractors and school authorities adhere to these guidelines. Some of these guidelines that you can verify while dropping your child next time are….

ü School buses should be painted yellow (Duh!) and “School Bus” must be indicated on the back and front of the bus. If it is a hired bus, “On School Duty” should be clearly indicated.
ü Bus should have a first aid box & a fire extinguisher – Go inside and check you moron
ü Bus should be fitted with speed governor of specified standard – Ask the driver casually about the max speed at which he drives. If he says it depends, you know it’s not locked (and God help you in such a case!)
ü The windows should be fitted with horizontal grills and the doors should have reliable locks – At least look for the grills on the windows bugger
ü School name and telephone number must be written on the bus – Call up the no to verify it
ü There must be a qualified attendant in the bus to attend to the children – Check his aptitude and attitude by asking simple questions like what he does when the child does not have a guardian to pick up
ü The driver should have at least 5 years of experience of driving heavy vehicles – You can demand his driving license unless you are a cop but the least you can ask his how long he has been driving a bus

Reporting any kind of dangerous behavior by a school bus driver to the school authorities or transportation department can greatly help in keeping drivers in check. Prompt response strongly drives home the message to the school management that there can be no compromise to safety and safety training for all employed drivers is mandatory.

School bus safety is everyone's issue - parents, students, school, motorists, and transport authorities - all have an integral role to play but as parents, it’s YOU who will be impacted most, should there be an incident with your beloved ones. Simple precautions and an uncompromising attitude towards safety can get your child to school safe and on-time.

WTF

2012-08-01T07:47:00.000-07:00

Being an Assamese outside Assam has its pros & cons. As most outsiders are handicapped by basic knowledge of geography, you tend to exaggerate everything about Assam including its beauty, greenery, crowd, dress sense, life style, culture, music sense etc and thus creating a halo of Assam’s superiority over lesser states. But the recent incident is a slap on all such efforts and makes you to hang your head with shame. So far I have brushed aside the embarrassing questions by saying that I have been away from Assam for more than 15 years now and hence no longer feel the pulse of situations in Assam. What a shame!!!!

Why the hell people do such things? Frustration, hormone surge, inferiority complex or something else!

I think the answer to this lies in the increasing disposable cash with some of our youths. The gap between have and have-nots among the youths has fuelled the entire episode. Some of the youngsters today earn much more than then even grown-ups due to a revolution in our society where we prefer a talented youth over an experienced elder. This is a very natural phenomenon in a growing economy. The education, in part, fulfills the qualifying criterion. Today a well groomed youth, who has good presence and speaks English, can earn a lot of money without any other old age talent (like aptitude, analytical ability, reasoning etc). So the rightly educated ones are earning more than the conventionally talented others and that is the first point of rift. The ones that score more on exam but fail on life’s test get frustrated with the opulence of the other class. This leads to a tendency where the deprived ones vent out their pent up frustration on slightest pretext. Subconsciously they are on lookout for opportunity to punish the successful ones spending money on new found luxuries of life.

The second contributor is the so called middle class upbringing. While at one hand it teaches you to be humble but at the other extreme, it’s an oppressor. It oppresses you with social taboos. Some of them are linked to fine leaving like enjoying a drink while others are linked to dress & behavior code of women. One prominent personality was arguing on TV that the lady in question was not coming out of a Naam Ghar wearing a Saari, rather she came out of a bar drinking wine and wearing mini skirt!!!!!!How do you counter that………..That’s a problem in thought process hardened over years by the so called middle class upbringing which makes you to believe that a drunken girl in a miniskirt is morally corrupt and easily available….probably she was asking for it. Improper sex education, middle class values that encourage utter disrespect to social norms and women in general, fuel such actions.

How do you we address the larger issue? It can’t be done over night, neither can we eliminate it. But, if as individual parents, we take it on us to at least teach our sons the basic disciplines of life…….that would be a great step.

Time in a Frame

2012-07-28T12:56:00.001-07:00

Time stood still
For us
In a closed room

Now there is no sad past
No promising future
Its only the present

I want it to last
Till the monsoon of hope
Make us wet inside out

Time stood still
For us
In a closed room

Now there is no postmortem
No foolproof plan
But your insanity has become my reality

A River Runs Thru

2012-07-10T10:49:00.002-07:00

It is hard to believe that the splendor of Brahmaputra, with which I am in love, would spill into the life and soul of so many innocents. It ignites a flame that tortures me without end. Whoever has experienced the evils of flood that Brahmaputra brings in every year, knows the ills that comes upon lesser mortals. A man fears everything divine, but whenever a man made (or lack of it) cheers on destructive voyage, its plain agony and helplessness. Do we need another Noah in Assam to save us from the massacre?

An average Assamese works in a rainy, muddy, cold and damp environment for most of his life but still dreads the sight of an embattled farmer on a littered village devastated by the deluge. Why can’t we stop the overwhelming power of flood that comes to Assam every year like a festival of death & disease? The limit to do so exists only in the mindset.

Flood may be unpreventable but damages can be prevented. For most part of India, water is an asset but for Assam it’s an enemy. It’s time to think for the policy makers and administrators to turn one’s liability to other’s asset. Repetitive flood is a slap on our progress and we can no longer afford the high cost of natural disasters.

Let’s rise from the swamp full of mosquitoes to the high tide of political will with a mindset to stop this inundation.

God

2012-07-10T10:48:00.001-07:00

You wanted me to live

But I fought

You wanted me to be myself

But I aped morons

Science call you dark

Art call you God

You are a mystery

But I know the truth

You are what every person is

You want what every person has

Yet you are faceless and nonexistent

Like a void without dimension

From here to eternity

From big bang to black hole

You are what you should be

Open your door of perception

To see Him in His true state

Old Post......Reloaded

2012-07-10T10:47:00.001-07:00

Khalil Gibran said -
You work so that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the earth. When you work, you fulfil a part of earth's furthest dream that was assigned to you when that dream was born. To love life through labor is to love be intimate with life's inmost secret.

Life is dark till there is an urge.
Urge is blind till there is knowledge.
Knowledge is vain till there is work.
And work is empty till there is love.
To work with love is to change all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit.

Work is love made visible – How true!!
Even Geeta says the same – Nirvana through work is the ultimate human challenge

Antoine De Saint-Exupery said

If you want to build a ship, don't drum the men to gather wood, divide the work and give orders.
Instead, teach them to yearn for the vast and endless sea.

Endless sea is what I am sailing for with wish to make love visible through work

I have un-anchored my ship
And left it to drift to the endless sea
Let the yearn for the vastness guide me
Through the dark and empty
Got relieved from HUL today and joining J&J tomorrow. Khalil Gibran – please be with me.

Forced Creativity

2012-07-10T10:47:00.000-07:00

Forced creativity
Is it possible?
No. May be
Call it abstract

Can’t draw a thing that looks like horse
Then try a blog
Don’t tell me you not know!
Virtual exposure of inner self

Incoherent monologue
Twisted tongue
Intellectual masturbation
Break free to cyber nirvana

The matrix beckon
To rewrite karma
Don’t believe in fate?
I know I know
Don’t like to believeThat you are not in control of your life

Enigma

2012-07-10T10:46:00.000-07:00

I can see the age of loneliness
Thru the prism of life
Morphing thru time
Beyond the invisible
Its almost full moon

I love you
I kill you
It’s the king’s odyssey of mind
Out from the deep
Rises the principle of lust

The silent warrior
Screams the voice of enigma
With cross of changes
And shadows in silence

The dreams of the dolphins take a round about
The wave of truth explodes like TNT for the brain
As the child in me returns to innocence

Un-paint My Wagon

2012-06-17T10:19:00.000-07:00

Where am I going? I don't know.
When will I get there? I ain't certain.
All that I know is I am on my way! ...
...Paint your wagon, and come along!

Should this be your philosophy? If you don’t know where you are going or know when you will reach there, why should I join you? Leave me alone. I would rather plan, analyze and then decide where to go, how to go and when to go. But unfortunately, in real life, you actually keep painting the wagon – without knowing where to go.

I want to stop and un-paint my wagon. My conscience wants to know where am I going and I don’t have an answer. Television, books, wife and kids –I am using them to mask the uncomfortable question, muffle the inner voice.

One day in the year of the fox
When the bell began to ring
Meant the time had cometh
For one to go
To the temple of the king

There in the middle of the circle he stands
Searching, seeking
With just one touch of his trembling hand
The answer will be found

After 37 free trips round the sun and acquiring a family with some decent immovable property, am I ready for the next phase in life. What is the next phase in life? Keep doing the same think that I have been doing, go back to native and run my family education business, venture into movie making…..I mean I am really confused. Need a very detailed introspection and purpose in life. Every time I think about the introspection part, the sheer magnitude of the task makes me to go looking for an excuse not to do it. So today I thought of doing it in reverse…..reverse engineering of my life. Let’s start with a list of things I would love to do and then choose where to head. It’s not a bucket list, but a list of jobs that I think I will enjoy doing. It’s a list of jobs that would give me satisfaction to die with a smile. OK let’s start -

Movie making – would love to go into the business of making movies. At times I feel as if I am born to tell the world stories. Stories of all kind thru my perspective, my view point. It’s a big thing but need to start somewhere. Where?

Business – who would not like to be the ultimate boss. Here again I feel like I have the potential to slog it out and become an entrepreneur.

Education – why not. There is nothing more satisfactory than sharing knowledge and building the foundation of a nation

Writing – I would love to sit back, relax and write about things that affects me. I would not be a good novelist. But I can be a great voice of daily facets of common man.

Sounds utopian. But that is my wish list. Problem is - where to start, how to start and when to start. The days the answer shines upon me like the rush of a thousand wings, I will un-paint my wagon.

Teachers I remember

2012-06-17T10:08:00.001-07:00

The other day I attended a “train the trainer” program. The faculty, while discussing some topic, raised the importance of a teacher as a trainer in our life. She was trying to put across a point by saying that we remember some of the school teachers (as early as elementary) due to their “method” of training. As it was an interactive kind of a session, many participants shared their story of childhood teacher heroes. That made me really think, how come I do not remember any of my teachers (elementary to engineering) with instant respect, awe or fear. I decided to jot down the teachers that I remember

Harbala Devi – She was the headmistress of elementary school in which I studied. No. 1 Buniyadi Vidyalay. I remember her because she was like a diva and had the personality of goddess Swaraswati. She was old but very beautiful. She was soft but firm. Best part was, she never taught us as a class teacher but the only person I remember from my elementary school days was her. Oh yes, I also remember my 4^th standard class teacher who was highly biased because I did not take private tuition under him. Assam had 10 districts and just before the exam, it got exploded into 16. Naturally “draw a map of Assam outlining the districts” became a hot probable question for the exams and a copy of the update the map (with 16 districts) was only available with him. He taught the same to all the students in his tuition. When I asked for the same, he told me curtly that I should get it from my tuition master. I would never forget that incident. I was relieved later as the question never came in the exam
Kamakhy Bhuyan – Class 4 to class 8. Don’t recollect the names of teachers in between. I took “Advanced Maths” as my elective subject in class 8 and only teacher known as the tiger of math was Kamakhya Bhuyan. His reputation always preceded him as a teacher who used his hands to teach as well as punish. I enjoyed the classes that I took. Thanks to my above average talent, soon I became his favorite and he taught a lot more than the course. I will always be thankful to him for making a dreaded subject like trigonometry interesting to me. I still remember the fundas learn in his verandah on windy winter mornings. When he was transferred from our school (Govt. Gurdon high School), we the students took out a protest rally against the transfer order
Sahityik – Our Assamese teacher in class 10. He was a true gem and behaved like a true eccentric writer. We used to call him Sahityik as he used to write poetry, prose, drama and the best was a colloquial Assamese to written Assamese dictionary. He was working on that dictionary when we were in class 10. So every now and then he will remember a word (while delivering lecture in colloquial Assamese ) and immediately stop everything to note it in his diary. This became such a trademark activity that we as puberty hormone hit class tenner, used the same technique whenever we came across a new swear word. One of our classmate actually submitted such a list (full of raw colloquial Assamese swearwords) to him and he liked it. I could never see that dictionary as I moved out of Nalbari before it was published but I would like to have a copy now at any cost.
Satyen Choudhuri – He was my chemistry teacher in Cotton College. What a professor! He made love a subject that I hated most. Gigantic in body, childlike in manner – it was a privilege to attend his classes
Ratneswar Sharma – My physics teacher. Although he did not taught me in classroom, but the crash course that he gave me before final exam was mind blowing. I still remember the first day I went for the tuition. He asked me some definition in Assamese and I could not get it as I was studying in English medium in Cotton. I politely asked him if he could tell me the English terminology. I could sense the feeling of arrogance and superiority I (unintentionally) expressed. He reluctantly told me the English term. When I could provide the definition (luckily), he immediately understood. From then on, he took extra care of me and gave me the crash course in a manner which made me think to major in it after +12
Durlav Hazarika, Brahma Sir – The stalwarts of Electrical dept in AEC. Enjoyed their courses thoroughly during the 4 years.

The list is not complete and I know I have missed many more. But at least now I am happy that I too remember quite a few of gurus. I wonder how many of them remember me!!!!

The Mine by Arnab Ray

2012-02-23T10:22:00.002-08:00

I was about to board a flight to US. The thought of 15 hrs nonstop journey that too in economy class made me restless. Thought of buying some books to kill time. Mumbai international airport has all shorts of fancy stores but not a decent book store. Anyway shortlisted 2 books – The inscrutable Indian by Anurag Mathur and May I have your attention please by Arnab Ray. I am a fan of Indian writers (thanks to English August way back in 2002). As luck would have it, I started Mr. Ray’s book first. Let me tell you, the 15 hour journey became a piece of cake. It was a laugh riot, sometimes to the amusement of fellow passengers. But that made me a great fan of greatbong Arnab Ray. After coming from US, I gave the book to my wife and she made me to search and buy the DVD of “Gunda”. I also ended up following him avidly all over the net. Finally when his 2nd book released The mine I lapped it up and finished it one go

I should not have. When I finally finished the book at 4 AM, I was afraid to switch off the light and go to my bed room from living room. It is a mind blowing book. It remains with you even after you finish reading it. Mind you, if you read May I have your attention first and then The mine, you wont believe it’s the same writer.
The incidents are described in such graphic details that if you are a faint hearted, this book is not for you. Great job Mr. Ray – Keep up the good work.

Someday the world will appreciate your talent. Till such time...remember. Remember to forget

My experiment with voting

2012-01-13T06:18:00.001-08:00

09.00 AM
I am in this place called Aurangabad from last 1 year. A few months back, the Election Commission (EC) people came to register our name in voter’s list. My wife, for reasons known to her, shooed away the EC guys. Later she claimed that, she thought they were on voting campaign. This created a lot of furore in my mind because I am 37 years old, hold a valid Indian passport and yet I have never voted in my life. I hate politics. I hate politicians even more. But I love my country and want it to develop. And in a democracy, you can do it only by participating in a fair called election in which you choose the right person or party that can bring in the change (I know honest politician is an oxymoron)
10.00 AM
Armed with this logic (and the fact that I do not have my name in voter’s list), I went on a mission to cast my vote on the Election Day. Actually it was a holiday and I did not have anything else to do. I don’t know why the govt declares holiday on Election Day. It hardly takes 30 min to cast a vote, yet you are given a full day off – may be to ponder over the right candidates for 7½ hrs or simply as a perk of a democracy. I really pity the guys in Afghanistan or China where they do not have elections. Anyway, having nothing else to do and after bickering with wife for chasing away the EC guys who came to enlist us on voter’s list a few months ago, I set on a mission to vote. Earlier in the day, I read in the newspaper that if you have a valid passport, you can vote even if your name is not there in the voter’s list. I went to the polling booth closest to my home. It was a dilapidated govt office building. There were 3 or 4 odd guys standing outside each of the booths. At the entrance of the booth (makeshift office room), a goon like person looks for the name of next voter in the voter’s list. He then asks for an ID and if the actual face resembles the photo ID by say 3%, the voter is allowed to go inside. Looked pretty simple and thought I will show him my eligibility as per the newspaper and the passport (where my face matches the photograph by almost 90%) giving me the opportunity to vote for the first time in life. I stood in the shortest line. To honour Murphy and his stupid laws, the line moved at the slowest possible speed. When my turn came, I told my name and he started looking on the list. I told him that my name may not be there in the list and showed him the newspaper article along with the passport. He gave a look that he normally must be giving to people who annoys him in his loo. He told me that this is a sub-booth and such monkey business (of allowing people based on newspaper article & passport), if at all allowed, is allowed in the main voting centre for my area.
11.30 AM
1 hrs later, after 3 rounds of clarifications, I located the voting centre for my area. It was a govt primary school and most of the political parties had a makeshift office (a table, some water, lot of pamphlets, and some goons in white dress & gold chain). The place was bizarrely crowded. I had to park my vehicle at least a km ahead as the road was blocked with police vans and bikes. Just as I was wondering whom to contact and where to ask, a van with a red light arrived. Apparently it was packed lunch for the EC staff and the police on duty. What followed for next 30 min is beyond description. I should have carried a camcorder to record the ensuing madness. After 45 minutes, the place was filled with litters. I noticed a group of potbellied policemen sitting on a two wheeler who were having tobacco and a little fun. They were sitting right behind 2 lady constables who were controlling the queue and one of them had a very well endowed rear. I immediately understood the butt of their frolic and decided to take help of these jolly folks. As I moved towards them, 3 goons from different angles surrounded me and demanded my name. They were all carrying a voter’s list. They were actually from the political parties and were trying to find if I was a prospective voter. If yes, they normally coax, instruct or threaten you to vote for a particular candidate depending on your meekness or lack of it. I was not aware of this practice and mistaken it as group of rather helpful EC agents. When I told them my name, all them went on a frantic search mode in the list they had. After several rounds of clarification regarding my name, surname, spelling etc they realised that my name was not there in the list. I still shiver when I talk about the look the guys gave me and abuses they hurled on me when I told my story. One of the jolly policemen heard the commotion and till this day I thank him for saving me from that group. He made some “hoi” kind of a noise and these goons disappeared (the way they appeared) – may be on lookout for their next prey. (note to self - “Hoi” must be a powerful local word)
12.30 PM
When I explained my situation to the horny cops, they told me that I should meet the EC officer in-charge for that centre. The officer was sitting on another makeshift office (table, 2 chairs, empty tea glasses, 2 files). He heard my story, gave a very annoying look, saw my passport, checked the address mentioned in my passport with a list in his file and then called an assistant. Apparently, there is a master list where they have all the names and the voter’s list is prepared from the same based on EC house verification. The officer told me that such a master list existed with the main EC officer (in-charge for many such centres) and the assistant would guide me on how to find the same. So a shabby looking assistant took me to a lady who was sitting on a Jeep just outside the centre. She was an assistant to the main officer. The first assistant explained the case to the lady assistant and left. The lady assistant was good looking and from what could I see from outside – she had a killer physique. She was smart. Very well dressed for a place like that (tight shirt, tight pant ...you get the drift). She spoke to me in English. God there were still some sensible guys in the govt who recruited such sexy officers. Anyway, she confirmed that such a list did exist and if my name was on the same, I could vote. For the first time in the entire day, I saw a ray of hope. I requested her to check the same at once so as to complete the great task of voting. She looked at me as if I have asked her to remove her clothes (it was a different story that at the same very moment, she found me ogling at her assets thru the corner of my eyes). Anyway, she told me that the list was available in the main city office. It is a computerised list and hence won’t take much time to search but would need the main officer’s permission to do so. And the main officer, who was lucky enough to have an assistant officer like her, was on his regular round of other centres. There were 7 such centres and he should be back in an hour
14.00 PM
Finally his highness arrived. He gave a wonderful smile to his lovely assistant and straightway boarded the jeep. The lady explained my case. For the first time again, I got a sympathetic look. I realised later that he sympathised my foolishness of going to such extends just to vote. In as many words, he told me that one vote anyway does not make much difference to the system and hence I should enjoy the holiday rather than wasting my time. I insisted on exercising my right to vote. He insisted that I was a moron. Finally he called me to his office at 3 pm to look into the matter. Exasperate, I returned home only to find that there was no lunch for me. I cursed myself, took bath and grabbed some leftover before dashing off to the EC office
15.15 PM
No sign of his highness. The office was virtually empty as everybody went on election duty. Having nothing else to do but wait, thought about the lovely assistant to kill some time. Fantasised about some choicest foreplays in great details. Just when I was about to move into the main act, the jeep arrived. The officer (along with a group but without the lovely assistant) went inside his room without eyeing me. All of a sudden an orderly appeared and stopped me from entering the officer’s cabin. Thirty agonising minutes later, the group left and I made my entry. It took 10 minutes to re-explain my case. He took 5 more minutes to re-insist that I was a moron. Finally he asked me to fill a form and meet one Mr. Sharma in the next big room.
16.30 PM
I filled up the form and met Mr. Sharma. Sharmaji was a nice gentleman who seemed to like his job which till that time looked to me as sleeping. He took one long and one hard look at the form, brought a rickety PC to life and began the eternal search of my name in the holy books of the divine body called Govt of India. A nice anticlimax – the list is 2 years old and names of people like me would appear in the list only during next update, due every 3 years. I thanked him, went home, apologised to my wife and jotted down the moral of the story.
17.30 to 22.30 PM – Moral of the story
1. Now I know why it has to be a public holiday on the day of election. You are supposed to enjoy this day. Normally it is a dry day. So make it a point to stock up the previous day.
2. It is better to absolve voting responsibilities rather than voting and then repenting in realisation that one vote does not really make any difference
3. The entire brouhaha about exercising ones voting rights is bullshit. Those columnist either inherited the voter’s list or never voted in their life
4. Voting does not make any difference. No matter whom you vote, finally a corrupt goon becomes minister
5. When it comes to voting or any facets of life, wives are the best decision makers. They are smarter than us and most of the experience come naturally to them which we men learn the hard way
6. It is better to learn local words like “Hoi” than learning the political scenario of India
7. Don’t undermine the govt officers. Some of them are really hot

Chatting with old friend Pranab

2012-01-12T23:12:00.000-08:00

me: aso neki
Pranab: asu
me: thaak
Pranab: :) kela
me: baal
Pranab: aso ne buli koiei naikia hoi jao toi
me: kaali bahut ralu. toi busy aasili saage. baaki kha khobor kenekuwa
Pranab: soli ase. tur ko
me: not bad. change of job profile within J&J. so some new excitement
Pranab: ok good etia ki
me: strategic planning and projects
Pranab: ok. ketiar pora
me: 1st Jan. same wine, new bottle
Pranab: aww. thikei ase. baki business or kotha ki sinta koriso
me: still open. bhabi puwa nai keneke arombho koru natun ideayo eko nai
Pranab: aww. kintu eitu idea ei beya nohoi. we can take our time. imaan jaldi eku nohoi
me: taake. khaali deri korile beleg kunubai arombho kori dibo paare
Pranab: mur logor suwali ejoni US ot ase ...tai alopman itcha korisile kiba business khuliboloi ...alop invest koribo paribo bule ..kintu bhal business plan lage moi eku kuwa nai kintu. she will be like a sleeping partner. bhabi sabo pari jodi project or 25% maan invest koribo pare tetia amar loan loboloi xubidha hobo
me: bhaale
Pranab: but kaam he nokore kintu account r hisab di thakibo lagibo :). moi kotha patim neki
me: reliable jodi koi sa.....suwali bilaak kintu high on emotion low on practicality hoi
Pranab: tai IBM ot kaam kore axomiya suwali ...maal dar…maane husband or poisa bahut so tair poisa khini kiba business korar mon
me: husbande ki kore? Business
Pranab: moi kotha pati saam baru ..sihot australia aha kotha March ot. nai nohoi sakori kore. kiba finance compy t. kintu marcedeze solai buli jaanu :D. anyway iaaloi ahile kotha patim baru
me: aww. bhaal party paiso. kotha paati sa.
Pranab: aww risk factor kom. MArch ot aha kotha amar ghoroloi...
me: moi indiar state wise gdp data sai aasilu. axomor gdp growth sobotke kom (in last 10 years). so eiu eta bhaal time to start. kintu overall jodi gwoth nohoi tenehole problem aase
Pranab: hmmmmm
me: Bihar is growing at 11%, UP at 9%. Assam at 3%
Pranab: aww
me: plus point is peace in assam. potential development is opening of trade route to Burma/China thru assam
Pranab: aww
me: even B'desh is growing at 8%. Huge potential of trading in B'desh (taat jabo nelage...maal pothale hol). lungi exporter!!!!!!
Pranab: :) roh ..mane toi ki koisu beleg business or kotha bhabiso neki. maane import export ?
me: i am open. tradingot bahut margin aaru low on investment. base tu jodi xeiture bone baaki beleg expansion (jot poisa laage) koribo pari
Pranab: aww. kint product base tu ki hobo..maane ki bastu
me: seitur karone moi bhaabu toi australiyat eta trade fair attend kora usit. taat sa ki natun bastu (any product) aase jitur dealership lobo paari aaru Indiat solibo
Pranab: but iaar product taloi nia tu eta dangor loss. 90% products in australia is chaina made
me: amaar eyaare 4 tai poisa milai etaak Chicago trade fairot pothai GPS'r dealership loise. Another huge potential area karon gaari barhi goi aase. consumable chinaat banuya hobo..kintu innovative bastu chinaat nobonai. chudir bhai chinise keitai khaali copy koribo paare...nije eko bhaabi bonabo nuware
Pranab: sihote kela copy kori kom damot besi di e. aru market tu khai di e
me: hmm....sohoje copy koribo napara maal laage
Pranab: world ot ajiloike tenekuwa bastu eku uluwa nai…suwali r bahire
me: :D
Pranab: xeitu bisuness beya nohoi
me: ki suwali import export
Pranab: aww. nijeu satisfy hoi thakilu aru belegoku satisfy korilu logote poisa u bonalu
me: import quality test taar pisot export
Pranab: Dharma k dibo lagibo idea tu
me: dharmoi tel logai test koribo
Pranab: he he he
me: moi seriousely koisu....toi suwa arombo kor...enekuwa kiba bastu jitu toi australiyay kini eyaat pothabo paro
Pranab: amar logor keitamane korisile Australian Apple r kintu jeng bahut. ultimatley luksan
me: perisable itemor risk besi. nonperishible laage
Pranab: aww
me: ki bastu taat xosta?
Pranab: kela eku xosta nai
me: :). kihor karone famous
Pranab: kolu nohoi iaat 90% chenese bastu sole
me: indian resturent taat xolibo ne. solile eyaare bhaal resturent ekhonor fransichise lo
Pranab: sole kintu keikhon man branded type hoi goise. manuhe tat goi bhal pai ...but restaurant is not profitable. jaar beleg business u ase sihotor kotha beleg
me: hmm
Pranab: iaat man power is very costly. problem tu tatei. jot manuh besi lage xeibur kaam koribo nuwari
me: eyaar pora randhoni aaru puwali (table safa kora) loi gole hol
Pranab: nijei lagi kiba koribo parile thikei ase. kela ...boat di mone mone anibo lagibo. ebaar ahi ja ..sai lou duitai e. kimaan poisa ghotibi aru. alop relax kor
me: aahi aasu.....last yeare plan aasile. timing nimilile. eibaar jaam
Pranab: aww. MArch ot 2 ta party ahibo. kakoli aru Rupam da hotu ahibo. aru mur friend buli je koisu US or sihot ahibo
me: nai moi gole diwalir xomoit jaam...jodi tur aahar plan nethake
Pranab: nai etialoike. aru goleu sagoi year end manot he jaam eibaar ..nohole aug manot
me: thik aase. khali quantusor ticket nolobi...
Pranab: :). nai moi singapore ot jau
me: kela...maaldaar manuh. SIA khana kintu borhiya
Pranab: :)
me: rupam da hot tur kgorote thakibo ne...austriya tour aaru edin tur taat thakibo
Pranab: sydney t thaka keidin mur tate thakibo koisu. baki beleg city t hotel book koribo
me: aww
Pranab: eibar toi kintu Goa tu miss korili. toi aru abrar huwa hole bhal jomile heten
me: hmm....next time milaam de.
Pranab: next time pune te korim. rajib or ghorot
me: ok. gahori aaru tin patti
Pranab: rajib e gahori nakhai ...3 patti nekhele aru maal u nasai. beya kotha u komkoi pate ajikali
me: ha ha ha... bhaal joke. taar ghorot medam mefi type eta roomot gahori aaru eta rumat murgi buli lekhi dim aaru khaam
Pranab: pranjit e aru moi akole Beer khalu. baki kunu nai
me: tur jabo huwa nai
Pranab: alop kaam ase xeikarone roi asu. eikeidin kaam alop besi manuh bur suti r pora ahai nai ghuri
me: gora bilakor bhaal de...bosoror xexot emaah maan xuti loi
Pranab: emaah ...kela eta 2.5 months or karone goise. 10 weeks. etia khelibo jaam TT. 2 din TT khelu. tue aru wed
me: aww. bhaale de. amaar eyaat eta work from home concept aahise (taate tu aasei sage). maje maje di diu. beya noi.
Pranab: aww iaat agore pora ase. moi kalili WFH korim
me: great. moyo arombho korisu TT. bhal player eta join korise
Pranab: porohi u koru neki thik nai. borhia
me: kela
Pranab: kot khelo. office te ne
me: officote
Pranab: aww. moi iaat ahi besi hol. bhal racket kinilu. khela manuhu bahut. chinese or blood ote ase aru iaat chinese bahut besi
me: hmm....aamiyo etiya racket bisaari aasu. any recommendation
Pranab: tuk besi control lage ne speed lage
me: control laage
Pranab: Yasaka Mark V is really good to start with. iaat moi prothome kinisilu. indiat 4000 maan poribo sagoi
me: ok
Pranab: agote kom asile ...monot ase Manas deka i khelisile yasaka mark V di moi iaat kinitu INR 6000 maan porisile kintu india t kom hobo. etia moi ply beleg koi kinilu aru rubber beleg koi. mur etiar racket khon dami ....5 ply racket ... 3 ply wood aru 2 ply carbon ... Butterfly primorac carbon
me: kela...
Pranab: aru rubber beleg. etia blade khonote $200 loisile aru rubber per side $90 maane almost $400 maane 20000 INR :)
me: ma kosom
Pranab: kela jibanot bhalkoi kheliboi napalu ...iaat agi chance paisu karone khelisu aru. kela manuhe sobei bhal bat ane ...nohole patta puwa digdar
me: toi ssage etiya manas deka hotor nisina playerok under 5 dibi
Pranab: he he. najanu but ajikali khelibo paru alop. kintu helath e natane. bhorir bikh besi douribo aru jump koribo nuwaru
me: chinise keitaak harabo parile hol
Pranab: akol chinese nohoi phillipino bilake eu biraat bhal khele
me: dress ses pindhi khelo ne
Pranab: akol T shirt eta change koru aru shoes
me: thike aase. aadha ghonta bhaal ke khelile dom olai jai
Pranab: ami 6pm to 8pm loike khelu. :)
me: ma kosom.. cig nekhao to xei karone alop advantage
Pranab: :) only problem bhorir bikh. baki eku problem nai
me: electrolyte deficiency... xei karone bhorir bix......tender coconut water but electrolyte…(puwalik je hagonit diye) khaabi..thik hoi jabo. seriousely
Pranab: mur kela tendon buror pain hoi. docotor ok dekhuwale u eku nai buli koi koi muscle tight hoise just
me: just try moi jitu koisu..electrolyte jodi taat nepai, ghor aahi egilaas paanit ek samus cheni aaru aadda samus nimokh do khaabi.....100% result gauranteed
Pranab: ok thik ase. ajir porai try korim
me: yes...ghoini doctor huwar pora kibatu xikisu
Pranab: :). kela xaru koi dukan ekhon khuli bohi ja
me: abortion aaru breast implant korim....mor fantasy
Pranab: kela. muk assistant lobi
me: implant koraar agote toi test kori saabi.....moi pasot
Pranab: kotha nai ....hardi keidal holeu hobo...
me: sunny leone'r naam xuniso ne. India kopai aase.
Pranab: aww xunisu. dekhuwaise neki kiba. net ot bisarile tair lubu bahut pai. even you tube ote ase
me: hmm....indian suwaliye emaan progress korise...dekhi bhaal lage. ekhon maan lubu saabi. etaat etiya biraat populaar. bhaal laage. deshbhakti jaagi jai
Pranab: :). thik ase de jau moi. manuh ahise kheliboloi
me: ok bye
Pranab: kotha patim pisat. bye
me: bye

Old Monk

2011-08-16T12:13:00.000-07:00

Met an old friend in Facebook the other day. He was a hostel buddy during engineering days and we used to be good friends (actually his best friend was one of my closest friends). In those days, there used be physical ragging and we too bore the brunt of senior psychopaths. This guy did all his studies in KV (his father was in Army or something) and never really stayed in Assam. During the self introduction part of ragging, he always used to pronounce his name very funnily and used to get slapped then & there. The Hindi accent in telling his name was not wrong per se, but it was out of place among the senior morons and in a place like Assam. So every day it would go like this – My name is “A.....L Dutta”.....smack!!!.....smack!!!

So his funny accent and the slapping that he used to get because of the same were some of the memorable brighter moments of the otherwise gloomy ragging days. We used to joke about it till he really worked up. We also used the same ploy during next freshman year by asking the fresher’s to shout our friend’s name in the same accent (some time at odd hours in front of his room). This really used to freak him out.

So when I saw him in facebook, I just wrote - “A.....L Dutta.....smack!!!.....smack!!! remember me?” – with an expectation that he will light up on this old joke. What followed can become a serious case study in human psychology. The moron wrote back to me in essence the following – Yeah I remember but I remember many more positive and nice things then this bloody piece of shit. You are a narrow minded pig and have a short horizon. And because of this you won’t understand what I am saying here – Duh!!!! The guy gave me real complex and made me think what to write next as damage control. I mean my intention was to rekindle an old friendship with an old joke but the guy freaked out. Those damn incidents must have left a very bad memory in his mind cause even after 19 years (the ragging happened in 1992) it still haunted him to give me shit of a reply. Anyway I just said sorry in next message hopping that he will understand my intentions and sanity would take over. But no, the guy again blabbered about how he considered me as one his “goodies” (what does that mean?) and how I shattered his feelings. He wished me luck in such a way as if saying – Please do not get in touch with me again. Maan! Some guys really don’t grow up. Anyway I wished him luck too and have not heard from him since.

This raises a few concerns and after a lot of mental masturbation, I reached to a few conclusions
1. Do not re-start a relationship with an old joke
2. Morons remain moron even after 19 years. Time does not heal emotional sensitivity or a person’s immatureness
3. Do not search for old friends in facebook. Instead, try meeting new ones face to face. For better results, go for the opposite sex.
4. A guy becomes frustrated when he works for a sheikh in Dubai during Ramzan. The fowl moods spreads like sunshine even to facebook
5. To hell with morons (including me – I am a moron of first order)
6. Beware of a person who does sleep reading. My friend invented this unique method – reading (mugging?) math sums in bed and cracking the exam
7. It is good to have a face off in facebook rather than face to face