Nothing to say

FLOATING TO THE STARS

2013-04-07T12:49:00.004+05:30

Building new acquaintances everyday, washing away debris of yesterday
Today's debris start accumulating, tomorrow's keep waiting in a list
Waves every minute washing away the footprints on the sands of time
Every sparkle a ray of false hope, yet every one brings a scope for more
Even as the particles disintegrate, memories fading away with every wave
Every particle has destiny together they come, separate they leave
Standing on the shores of passing time, I wait for one fallen pearl
Fallen hopes, raining pain, steaming lights, twinkling stars, shivering leaves
Looking through a misty mirror, faint images from past and future
soaring in the breeze, washed clean by the dew, forever upward I go.

LONELYMAN

2013-04-06T15:32:00.001+05:30

Running water, underneath my feet
Standing under a bridge life beneath
Raising storm, water churing, hands raised
Flashing lights, blaring horns, deluded minds
Frozen soul, stiffer than the obituary column
Numb with shock, screeching tires
Nothing matters, floating spirals of smoke
Lonely fish swimming in a shoal
Bottles of alcohol make home next to garbage
No escape from this gilt cage,
NO ESCAPE, ABSOLUTELY NOT!!

Adventures in LonelyMind

2013-04-03T19:28:00.002+05:30

My wife says that I'm becoming a fat sloth. I guess she is right, but then I don't have much choice do I? The funny thing about life is that it brings you options and choices that you don't even realise have come and then when you wake up they are long lost in time that will never come back. I have always felt that it is sheer folly to look back and keep reminiscing or ruing my lost chances. When Dev left me I was devastated, but then on one fine morning I said to myself that I won't be a slave to my demons. I have never looked back, and it is not with little pride that I can say that her leaving me didn't scar me in any way at all. This has taught me a valuable lesson in life. The harder you assume something will be, the harder it actually gets. If you assume that it is feasible and doable, it will become easy. This is something that I have made my catch phrase and my motto. hence, the harder something looks, the more enthusiasm I show in order to conquer it. this is not to say that I don't fail, for I do,maybe more than some. But at least i fail trying what most would have given up as impossible.

This life of mine has been an adventure that I have embraced wholeheartedly. Fortunately, we live in a time when our lives are not put at risk everyday and we probably live in one of the safest times ever (just until that stupid enfant from North Korea or some idiot megalomaniac from China does not hatch a plan to overthrow the existing world order). So, we have to devise our own adventures, some that have no place in the current scheme of things. I live to fulfill my heart's loneliness with some moments of pure bliss. It is why I'm the happiest when I'm supposed to be scared the most. It is also why it is a great sorrow that rages in my heart that I strive forever to overcome. I'm all surrounded by people who love me and yet here I am all so alone. I do not know whether this focus on the self is the path to salvation as so many godmen preach or if it is just a safe and modern way to be really self-centred and selfish. Somehow,all the while that Archie is here I don't feel the void. It's when she leaves that I feel so alone and so cold. It is her presence maybe which keeps me so 'full', if that be the right word. When she is here, I get happy, satisfied, angry, upset all at the same time. When she is not here its all gone at once. somehow, its so different from the time when I had fallen so truly madly deeply in love with Dev. Whenever I used catch i glimpse of her, or even someone who looked remotely like her, my heart literally sputtered and stood still. It is always that feeling that I strove to feel again, that raw feeling of teenage heady rush of madness. Those days when the consequences of your actions belonged to your parents, its those days I have been longing for forever.

Ever since Archie entered my life it has never reached the same crescendo, and I have never made any bones about it either. I have been clear to her that I don't expect the rush of first love repeat itself and yet, i have wronger her heavily. It is not the cheap thrill of first love which matters but the slow and sure sense of belonging together. I have always cried at the feeling of true romance, at the tear jerkers which are regularly produced by Hollywood and Bollywood. I am really soft when it comes to the real emotions of life and all my bustle and bluster is a rather unfit armour against such emotions. Yet, I have missed the fact that I have truly fallen in love and this is the most beautiful emotion ever.

Missing my friends

2013-03-21T22:08:00.000+05:30

Too lonely here in this world without friends. I wonder how the prehistoric man used to live without friends and bonding. This is why you need friends, family and close relatives. This why I hate being me. I have lived what others want and yet I have realised that I have never achieved what I want. Achievements alone don't fulfill your days, necessities and luxuries combined don't give you the opportunity to be whole. Whoever coined the phrase "Man is a social animal", knew what he was talking about. I have always wondered why we love going back to our roots and why we treasure the days of our childhood the most. The fact remains that those are the days that have been the happiest in our lives and it is neither sin nor a wonder that we crave to turn time back and head back to our wombs. The days of fun, frolic and careless enjoyment are restricted to our childhood and that is what remains the most attractive destination no matter who we eventually become. From the girl who sees the whole wide world to the guy has slept with half the world, we all want to go back to our friends, to our small hometowns, to our roots, to our unbidden lives full of unparalleled revelry. Some day, I wish to head back to my hometown, to my Kalyani, and to spend some years there with my parents and my friends and all that I used to love. The days of organising theatres, the days of making fun of the girls and a secret smoke, the days of the illicit drinks and the hidden pornography, the days of the shared lunch and the hours in class waiting for that one girl to turn and smile at me. For a few days I want all that back. But, my days are gone and others have taken my place. It is their turn now to create memories that someday they will try and crawl back to, and I'm not needed. My days are gone and no footprints remain in the sands of time, the mute grounds witness to generations of me. Some times I wish a small part of the grounds, to rejuvenated everyday by the elixir of careless abandon, but not even a grass of these grounds need me. We remain only in our memories and forever lost to the world, lesser than tiny specks of dust.

I do miss you all my friends, no matter where we met and where you are. I wish you all the very best in what you do and I hoope that you find true happiness in your lives.

Frozen Soul

2013-03-21T21:50:00.000+05:30

Have I lost myself is what I wonder,
Have I no soul anymore?
When the sky cries and the waves shed their tears,
When the earth roars its disappointment,
When the world stops spinning, I have no feeling.
Has my heart been touched by the eyes of Medusa?

I had the heart of a wanderer, I had the eyes of a traveler
I had the soul of a child and the heart of a fawning puppy
I cried at every tender moment in every movie, book and life itself
My tears purifying my experience, my feelings in a knot
My heart stopped beating every time I saw my girl,
My heart soared the skies with all my hopes and my emotions.

I loved with the same passion that the rain loves parched soil
I wanted with the same desire that a nomad wants water
I soared above life on the wings of swan and soared along with it
I lived in my dreams and in others too and I loved in them too.
Have I lost being me, yet continue to be?

Where is the tune that will bring my sleeping soul to life?
The one that haunts my dreams with its lilting beauty
The one that brings tears to my eyes with its mellifluous serenity
The one that causes grass to grow in deserts and merry streams to flow
The one that changes ever so often and yet remains eternal
The one whose tune I hear forever, yet grows distant evermore.

2012-06-30T12:27:00.000+05:30

screensavers free

YYYYYY?

2012-03-13T20:52:00.001+05:30

Is being Cryptic the way to go in life? Are the ones who don't say much the really wise ones? Is it necessary to maintain silence to exert ones importance? Or is it better to air one's opinion every now and then? There are so many unanswered questions in life. My mom says that my wants exceed my needs by far. How much of that is really true? Do I really need only so much and no more or is it not right that my ambitions should be limited only by the sky? Should I not want to be as successful as the most successful men? Are not the most venerated men the most successful ones? Does not our society shun its losers as the weaklings? Does the weakest cub survive in this race for the survival of the fittest? Yet, my parents have lived their lives happily with all their shortcomings and all their not-so-great-successes. So, is not the way to peace best achieved though a hermit's point of view? How do I find the right answers?
Finally how do I reach peace and happiness in life? Through love? Well, that is a no-brainer! That finding peace through love is as elusive as finding the aurora borealis! That generation that seeked a peaceful family life, a peaceful and happy existence is long gone, replaced in turn by our generation- a generation that finds everyone fighting for their power, importance and share of the pie. We have forgotten that peace is best achieved through giving, happiness best achieved by loving and forgiving and the best existence is the one found in harmony with one's surroundings. I see my mom and dad peacefully co-existing and loving each other through all their tribulations and problems, financial as well as otherwise. I see my mom getting in the kitchen to cook inspite all the work she does otherwise without any complaints, I see my mom listening to my dad. This is the same mom I used to think as illogical and highly unpredictable. Yet, she listens to what my dad wants, mostly without him even expressing what he wants. How little I recognise people! She listens to me and brother shout and mostly comes up with some really illogical arguments that only she can. She is the only person I know that can do all that and yet have the sense to understand that we all need to boisterous and our selves without imposing on anybody else. I see them and I see how wrong I was to hope that I would be as happy as they are. I will never achieve the same peace that they have, neither will I ever see myself be the man I wanted to be. Maybe I will be very successful one day, maybe not. But it will always be useless as I have already lost the battle of life. I will never be a s happy as my parents were.

SAY NO TO BLACKBERRY

2012-03-05T00:03:00.000+05:30

The present craze maybe to buy a Blackberry as the favourite BBM is an overwhelming favourite of all, but m experience says quite the opposite. Nothing beats Nokia for that matter. Its battery life is unmatched, the phones are sturidier than the bricks used to construct Government buildings in India and extremely resistant to heat, stress, water and other forms of damage. However, the best part of it is like a Maruti car it can be repaired any where and any time. The components are cheap and affordable and unlike the other phones it can be trusted. My Blackberry has given me untold miseries over the Last one year. The software is flimsy and gets corrupted ever so often and the phone stalls like a cheap Chinese toy the moment you try to run more than one operation simultaneously. The battery life is really shabby, lasting less than #3 hrs of non- stop usage. The worst part is the hardware is really fickle and prone to damage. Guys, this is the Sheldon Cooper of mobile phones. Everyone's favourite, yet no one knows why. Everyone wants to see it yet it hasn't delivered yet. Now, to top all my other woes of the touch pad not working and the software getting corrupted, the phone itself refuses to switch on. On taking it to the service centre, they had a funny way of putting it. The phone is water damaged they said as the litmus paper placed inside had changed colours. When informed that it could have happened due to sweat as well, they just turned it around and asked me to go back to the old service station as that service station was apparently better. When informed that there was no other service station in Goa, they just gave up. Now,I'm just praying that the phone starts as all my data is in the phone and would get lost otherwise. Fingers crossed and swear to buy Nokia next time.

INDIA'S AND GOA'S ONLY NUDE BEACH

2012-03-04T23:18:00.000+05:30

Yes, I'm not kidding!! No, I'm not pulling your leg and yes, I'm in my senses. India does actually have a nude beach and its in Goa!! Now, I know that Goa is the closest most Indian Guys will ever come to getting to see women almost nude on the beaches. Frankly, no other place in India offers this much of skin show in public. No wonder then that most Indian men, fed on a steady stream of Hollywood movies, internet porn and their wildest imagination expect Goa to be all that and more when they come. However, sad to say, most of them also come to goa hoping to get laid as most indian men equate bare skin with loose morals and an invitation for promiscuity. hence, the leers, the stares, the gawking, the loud raunchy comments and the cheap booze driven desperation. . unfortunately, none of this ugly behaviour compensates for their crazed obsession to find women to have sex with as, thankfully (?) Goans are quite prurient and chaste. Hence, neither does prostitution thrive in goa nor do the locals allow prostitutes to enter. So, unless you are staying in some posh hotel where they will get you russian and israeli escorts for 5-8 grand or you are ready to satisfy yourself with the utterly pathetic, disease ridden souls parading their bodies for sustenance near Baina beach you won't find much to look forward to in Goa. The one redeeming aspect in this sphere is the gallant chivalry of the Goan beach boys. They will sell themselves for a meager amount to any fair skinned firang woman, even the ugly and hopeless ones who wouldn't dream of catching a boy for such an amount in their own countries. Hence, once you come to terms with this disappointing aspect of Goan life, the only silver lining remains the skin show on the beaches. The more the merrier.

The first time I realised that breasts weren't really worth looking at was when i saw a pair of them on one dilapidated old carcass carrying herself with the new found swagger of the ugly duckling who suddenly realises that her wasted frame was still worth men tripping over themselves. And the story went on and on. there were more and more breasts on display and most of them were not really worth a second glance. for all of my distinguished readers discreetly wiping their drool, all this and much more is available on Goan beaches if you have the energy to venture out on a hot a afternoon. for the best time to catch people sun bathing is when the sun's around. even then you have to know where to be if u want to catch the action as it were and that's what i'm here for. i'm here to open the doors to the secret world of goa to one and all, to wash the dirty linen in public per se, to get you up to date with those mouth watering, heart-skipping-a-beat secrets of goa that you have heard being whispered about and never witnessed. yes, there are nubile young women (or sexy young chicks in the general lingo) and hot young men all attired in their birthday suits roaming the shady nooks of this beach and you just have to know your way to this place.

enough of the suspense already you say? well, maybe i was piling it on a little. so let's get down and dirty. this beach is called Arambol beach. now there will be some who will be tut-tutting and shaking their wise heads, murmuring to their confidantes that they had been to this beach last year and there was nothing special to speak of. well, for all those skeptics, the action is not in open view, it cannot be. india has a law against public nudity and these people are well aware of it. so, they seek some shelter where they wont be thronged by shameless indian men staring at their genitalia while they try to colour themselves brown, or a burnt red as the case maybe. when you reach Arambol beach you have to ask for the sweet water lake. this is one amazing feature of the Arambol beach which in itself makes the beac a prized tourist attraction. however, its not easy to find. it is about 10-15 min of walk across a narrow hilly lane along the seaside, dotted with small shops selling the sort of junk you will find in any tourist destination and particularly in goa. at the end of your journey you will be rewarded by the sight of a glorious beach on your left, a rousing mountain ahead and a cool fresh water lake nestled at foot of the hill and separated by about 50 mtrs of sand from the sea. there are shady palm and coconut trees along the border. if you wade into this lake, the water is not over 5 feet deep at any place. you can walk up the lake into the mountainside as far as you want to. one word of caution. it is probably better to carry some footwear while you wade into the lake as the rocks get a little slippery at places and can cut your feet. as you move up the lake, the stream becomes narrow and you reach the treasure trove of multani mitti. most tourists prefer to lather their entire bodies with this free supply of multani mitti and then walk back along a separate trail down the mountainside. Finally take the holy dip in the lake and wash off the soil and hope that you glow!! :D

If you go ahead of this small lake along the beach for about 100 meters you will hit the rocky mountainside. Just keep climbing these rocks and get to the other side. and along your way you will find small pockets of sand. Ofetn in these pockets you will find small groups or couples. These people are actually looking for a secluded corner to sunbathe in nude in peace. these small pockets in the rocky mountainside will continue till you reach Keri beach on the other side of the mountain. In between you will come across a couple of rather spacious tunnels through the mountain side, small rivulets and narrow ledges along the sides of the mountain. It is here that I've seen beautiful birds as well. But, most impressive of all, I've seen beautiful young women nude, lying sitting, standing in all poses imaginable, doing all sorts of stuff from rubbing sunscreen on their breasts to sitting spreadeagled tanning their innards. Its is also this that attracts some local youth from sitting on some high rock close by and watch these fair skinned beauties reveling in their god given nudity. So, my advice is that go and take a look, but dont be obvious about it. let these poor souls have their peace dont pester them by looking and gawking at their nude bodies coz they are looking for some peace and solitude as much as anybody else.

MISSING HEART, BLEEDING HEART

2012-03-04T22:44:00.001+05:30

I don't know what has happened to me. i don't know how best to express my feelings.I've always taken refuge in the arts in moments of of pain. And I'm in extreme pain now. Depressed sounds more like a clinical case and given the Indian mentality to outcast anyone with a mental illness or even a semblance of it, Id rather say that I'm sad. I can't breathe properly, I can't sleep peacefully, I cant see myself in the mirror as I haven't shaved in the last few days, I don't feel like taking a bath, I don't want to talk to anybody , play games or go to the beach and swim. Its all a blurry mirage.. as if I have myopia. I never thought that I would experience these feelings again. I have lived with just myself for company for the last 8 years and more. I have always been a little unsocial, socially awkward, not knowing what to do, what to say, how to express myself and what emotion I should be feeling. So, I didn't know that I could feel these emotions again. I always knew that i loved my wife, and also that i cared a lot about her. What I didn't know was that I've grown to love her so much that this short separation from her is actually more painful than anything else I've ever know. I always was of the opinion that I loved Devbarna more and never more would I ever find someone ti replicate that innocent love of childhood. After all, they say that first love is never replaced.

But, I was so wrong. Trust me, all that they say that first love cannot be replaced is bullshit!! after all, my first love duped me, tried to tell me that its all my fault while going on behind my back with her colleague. The woman I had decided to give up everything for decided that I was just not worth it and found a much wealthier guy for herself. Whereas the woman I promised love but never expected to love so much has suffered all the repercussions of Dev's indecency. She may not have silently borne the brunt of all my tantrums and she may not be the ideal wife as per Indian standards, but she is the best thing that has ever happened to me. She drinks and taught me how to enjoy drinks without getting drunk. she wears western clothes, loves to party, and is the woman every man would love to be with. Slowly, yet steadily she has taken over my heart in such a manner that Now even if she leaves me and goes for her work for a couple of days I get depressed. She never promised anything yet she has delivered more than I could have ever imagined. This sounds like a lovelorn youngster out of school, but its true. You can love your wife as much as you may ever love any other woman. I've seen my parents have a loving married life for more than 25 years now. I hope some day my kids will get inspired the same way. I hope that he/she is as lucky as I am and ends up with as amazing a woman as I have.

But what do I do with this heart of mine? She isn't coming back for the next 07 days and its already been 19 days since she left. I need to find some sort of settlement in life where I can work with my wife by mu side at all times. Love you Archana.

GOA IN THE MONSOONS

2010-08-08T16:49:00.000+05:30

Now if there are a few places that are mandatory to visit in the rains its kerala, ooty and all those famous places that people will advise you to go. In fact, you will hardly ever meet anybody who will advise you to visit Goa in the monsoons. But the fact of the matter is this; I have no choice in the timing of my visit... I come and go as the navy pleases and so here I am at the behest of the Indian navy trying to get some training in naval provost and policing duties...

However, this time around the trip has been more of a revelation anything else. I have spent three years in this state without actually knowing much. And although I had promised myself that I would never visit this corner of the earth again (got to do with my bad memories of academy and stuff!), this time around I am actually feeling good that I came. the proverbial circle has been completed over the course of the last year. At one point of time, around June last year, I was so fed up with life in general and navy in particular that I had committed the greatest mistake of my life. In addition, I had also put up my papers for premature discharge from the naval service. quite expectedly, the authorities that be, sat comfortably on those papers until I decided (which was in no mean terms influenced by the sight of the sorry plight of the other officers who had put up their papers) that there was no point in being stupid and taking on the system, for it was far to huge and organised to be taken down by a powerless mortal like me. So, I decided that I had to work two pronged, build connections and work the way the system does, and find my way around the obstacles ahead. Fate had dealt me a fair hand in posting me to INS angre. As any experienced naval officer will tell you, posting in any depot ship is next only to posting in any headquarters as far as education in the service goes. These postings help in removing the blinds from your eyes and setting your priorities right as far as working in the navy is concerned. I was fortunate that I had been posted so early in my career in a ship as huge as angre and, though I had no notion of it at the time, it was the ideal platform for me to prove myself. The fact that I was so much younger to everybody else in the unit only helped my case as everybody tended to forgive my mistakes as those committed due to inexperience while my every good work was praised beyond normal grading. I had some excellent mentors in the unit the form of commanders and lt commanders who played a full hand in educating me in the nuances of the service, showing me the correct path to take in every circumstance, as well using their contacts to my advantage whenever required. at the cost of this article starting to sound too much of a thank you note, I would like to mention the valuable assistance of cdr ghosh, lt cdr preetika, lt cdr vatsala, and cdr gm singh. These men and women really made me regain my lost faith in the service. What I had always needed was work that would require all my grey cells to work full time. And this was what happened in angre. I was given a free rein to work as the works officer, which meant that although I was taking decisions about crores of rupees nobody ever questioned my judgment. This also meant I had to doubly responsible and prove worthy of the faith reposed on me by my commanding officer. As works officer I was justifiably proud of my work and pride in what you do goes a long way in building interest in your work. So, it was with the help of all these circumstances coming together tat I had my honeymoon phase in the service, something that I hadn't thought was possible.

So, when I finally decided to heed to better judgment and stop fighting the system and start manipulating it, I realised the efficacy of this suggestion. Cmde ramesh kumar, my commanding officer, was instrumental in helping forward my case at the naval headquarters and at a very early stage of my career (all the other officers in my batch have had to wait for a minimum of four years!) I was sent for the provost course. However, like I have already mentioned, the proverbial circle had come a full revolution and the prodigal son had returned. That I would ever feel nostalgic to visit this place, that I would ever call it my Alma mater was beyond my imagination. Yet, such is time that it not only heals all wounds, it creates new bonds. I actually feel sorry that the academy has shifted from this place and the whole place wears the deserted look a puja mandap looks after the immersion of the deity. The grass has grown wild, the vegetation has become greener, the buildings, shabby, broken and leaking, the parks in dire need of maintenance. It looks like a ballerina in the last stages of her glorious career. Yet, there is romance in the air and expectations of the future in the firmament of every building. It is as if every one is waiting with bated for the conjurer to remove the cloth and transform the frog into prince charming. The rains in this place are heavy and abrupt. The clouds roll in all of a sudden, covering up the sky with ominous darkness, and before you have time to realize what the next part of the programme is going to be, the deluge drenches you to the bones. The rains here aren’t soft and soothing as in Mumbai, they don’t come sashaying in like a coy bride. They come with the thundering velocity of a prizefighter, and the abruptness of a prima Donna. The nights are mysterious with the calls of a million insects sending shivers down your spine. Even as I look out of my glass windows at night, the moon shines brighter than I have ever seen it in Mumbai, through the dark branches of some or the other tree. The sea roars incessantly at the foot of the mountain, in a way beckoning me closer. Sometimes if I hear intently, I can hear the sound of a soft rattle, underlining the danger that lurks just outside the safe confines of my cabin.

I went visiting some of the beaches today and though its off-season, the place is still teeming with tourists. The fair skin is always a lure to the Indian eyes, male or female, and the shameless gaping at the foreign tourists is what makes for a bitter taste in the mouth. But then, Goa is supposed to be as far as you can go to get your full of carnal desires within this country. So, I guess all who come here come with a lot of expectations and I need not mention the limits that the suppressed Indian male libido can scale when given a free rein. Loved the beaches in the rain though. Went to Miramar. Dona Paula, calangute, baga, anjuna, vagator and coco beaches. In addition, had my full of the agauda fort. Had breakfast in calangute and lunch in aguada. One thing begs mention though, the change in the general attitude of the people. I have no idea whether it is just me or it’s the general case (though I have been assured by quite a few that this is the general case) but the people seem to have become very aggressive. It is no longer the laid back Goa I have seen during my cadet days but the Goa that demands its pound of flesh vehemently. Well, all things considered this is a wonderful opportunity to enjoy this beautiful state!

BONG SIN THE WORLD CUP

2010-07-04T12:42:00.000+05:30

Subroto Majumdar -

This time around, too, there are quite a few Bongs playing for various countries. With Denmark having qualified, hordes of boddyis from the famous Sen family of Baidyanath Dham are in action.
Soren Sen (Jersey No. 1) will keep goal for them while two of his distant cousins are his deputies – Ander Sen (16) and Christian Sen (22). In defence, there are more….. Jacob Sen (6) and Simon Poul Sen (15). The midfield sees the presence of Christian Poul Sen (2), Jen Sen (7), the veteran Jogen Sen (10) (who is now called Jorgen in Danish), Jakob Poul Sen (14), Enevold Sen (20) and young Erik Sen (21) who at 18 is one of the youngest players in the competition this year.
The Denmark attack has Lar Sen (18) who scored 5 goals in 5 games during qualification. The team is coached by the round old man Ol Sen, who played with such distinction in 1986, albeit with a sore throat. Boddyis as you know, have spread everywhere. Germany has a boddyi in their squad, defender Jan Sen (2), while another defender Mathij Sen (4) is playing for the Netherlands. Yet another defender Nel Sen (6), presumably a descendant of Nellie Sen Gupta, is captaining New Zealand. Why most of these boddyis are defensive is a question, that I shall avoid answering.
Other countries have their Bongs too, though they may not be boddyis. The first name that comes to mind is that of the Cameroon defender from the French club Valenciennes – Gaetan Bong (Jersey No. 12). Here is a Bong who proudly announces his awesome heritage. Ghana has a descendant of Prince Dwarka Nath Tagore in their squad – striker Prince Tagoe (12).
(Some obvious clerical error has somehow removed the “R” from his surname.) A scion of the Sonar Bene family of Chetla is also in the Ghana team – defender Lee Addy (19). Ivory Coast has a somewhat retarded Bong in their squad – defender Arthur Boka (3), while another Sonar Bene or Johuri is their number 6 – defender Steve, though he now spells his surname with a `G’ and is listed as Steve Gohouri. (La French influence, no doubt!) Another Bong in the Ivorian squad is film star Bumba da’s younger brother defender Bamba (22). Nigeria has appointed a Bong as captain – striker Kanu Babu (4).
Another Bong in the Nigerian team will try to forget the bitterness and deliver – he is striker Kalu Uchhe (12). France has left out Saha Babu this year, but they do have two elderly Bongs in their squad, midfielder Malou Da (15) and goalkeeper Mandan Da (16). (As their jersey numbers signify – Bongs do tend to stick together, especially in a foreign country.) Japan too has three elderly Bongs in their squad – defender Uchi Da (6), midfielder Hon Da (18) and forward Tama Da (11). The three dadas shall adequately look after the three departments of defence, midfield and offence.
Another Bong in the Japanese squad is that great disciple of Goddess Kali – midfielder Ma Koto Hasebe (17). 53 year old Oka Da is the Japanese coach. That perennially lazy Bong is in the Spanish squad once again – he who never even hits a ball – He is defender Carlos Marche Na (4).

growing up

2010-06-21T01:02:00.002+05:30

Archana Shah When I was 10, rubber meant eraser, ass meant donkey, gay meant happy, straight meant linear, making out meant logical deduction, laying meant setting aside, cock meant rooster, pussy meant cat, stag meant a male dear and a tit was always for a tat! English has changed so much now days!!

so many things change as we grow up!! its no great shakes growing up i can tell you. but we all want to grow up so much when we are kids...guess its all a part of that elusive thing called the human psyche. :D

im sorry

2010-06-19T12:33:00.000+05:30

im sorry that i lost the watch that you gave me, the one that had cost you so much yet won so little appreciation. it had a small dial and you had thought that it will suit my wrist best. however, everyone including me told you that it wasnt that great. you werent that stupid to just quote its price and wow us all. so you just became sadder all the while. why didnt you tell me? it was so stupid of me not to realise its worth. i just took it for another gift that you had got for me and i lost it before even a year was over. it was then that you told me that it was worth a 12and a half thousand rupees. even today when i buy a watch that costs 9000 rs on my own and my purchasing capacity has grown so much 12.5 k seems so high. then you had this huge loan and you had to spend such horrid time in uk having to cut costs. yet you managed to buy that gift for me. i have been really insensitive at times and i must ask for you forgiveness for every little thing that i had done wrong, even though i know that you will never get to hear this, read this or whatever. it just needs to get out of me.. i still miss you but only sometimes. i have almost forgotten you. yet we spent so much time together, there are so many small things that just reminds me of you.

THE BEST PATISSERIE IN TOWN

2010-06-13T23:48:00.001+05:30

theo broma is widely reagarded as the best patisserie in mumbai. crowned the best patisserie by the times food guuide and a whole host of other renowned food guides this small shop in the heart of colaba enjoys a special place in the heart of mumbaikars and confectionary connoisseurs from far and wide. those that have had a bite of its delectable pastries, truffles, cakes, breads, chocolates and a whole host of other delicacies, spread the message of pure ecstasy far and wide and, as a result, people come flocking from from far away distances to taste the delicacies that do justice to the name. by the way, the name in itself means 'God's own food' in greek. the first time i came across this small nook in colaba next to the hp petrol pump was when i was told prior to the navy ball by lt cdr pritika that there existed this absolutely mind blowing confectionery in colaba and i might try and get them to come for the navy ball. that was when i was introduced to the theo broma. so, i went hunting for this shop, and hunting it was, for it was hidden right in front of all of our noses. the location and the interiors kind of reminded me of that fabulous movie 'Chocolat' starring judi dench and johnny depp, written by joanne harris. it was pure magic and you could feel it the moment you entered the premises. kamal messman, the chef who is the heart behind this shop and her daughter kainaz messman are absolutely unbelievable and it was a beginning of a love affair that has lasted for more tahn a year now. the cheese cakes. made from raspberry, blueberry and mango are a delight to have anyday. however, in my opinion the best part of the menu is the brownie. i tell you mon cherie, i have never in my life tasted such chocolate roasted ecstasy. i can make a pilgrimage just to taste one of their brownies. this is to say nothing of their range of other products. if there is one thing i will miss when i leave mumbai it will be theo broma and its soul stirring brownies. thanks a lot kamal and kainaz, may theo broma prosper for long.

2010-06-12T00:16:00.000+05:30

i may have been an asshole when i was presumptuous enough to state that mumbai was a place that i hated!! after all. mumbai is a place where men and women from all over india flock to realise their dreams. it is that elusive land of el dorado which Ulysses had gone in search of. for millions of indians unsatisfied with their lives, nunbai offers that faint glimmer of hope that provided them sustenance in the days to come. there was a time when i saw the pollution that is so rampant in mumbai. seriously, there seems to be so much pollution in mumbai that quite often i believe the species of human beings who live here must be the next evolved species of homo sapiens. after all, how on earth can the human beings who for millenniums have adjusted themselves to the free and pure air that can only be found in the valleys of the himalayas as of today, adjust themselves to the highly poisonous air that we breathe in when we come to mumbai? today, however, i realise that this air is what we create, the payment we make to the devil for the comforts science provides us. no wonder then that it is said that too much power and too little control is the most potent formula for destruction. that is what we are -- a formula for destruction. so why blame a city? this city on the banks of the great arabian sea has borne much, to mention nothing about the sea of humanity that has desecrated its shores. for centuries this city has allowed us to pollute it, all the while patiently providing us with water, rain, air and the sky. we have tried our level best to cut down on all these resources and today when we stand on the brink of destruction we blame the city! the prodigal son hath not returned , yet there seems to be no dearth of reasons to blame the city. its time we sat up and took notice of how this beautiful city has not only been our mother but also a hero in disguise.

so much to do

2010-06-11T23:47:00.000+05:30

so much to do, so little time to accomplish everything. i want to be the next tagore, the next bill gates, the next mother teresa, the next barack obama, the next great thing. i want to be revered in my own time and respected by posterity. i want to be the richest man on earth and give it all away to the poor and needy. i want to set right everything on earth and i want to love like only i could. i want to write poems that would drive millions mad, and i want to sing like kishore kumar and john denver put together. i want my mom to be as happy as she ever was giving birth to me. i want my dad to be proud for being my dad. i want to be on top of the world and only one lifetime to achieve that. is that asking for too much?

ai jani na

2010-06-10T07:30:00.000+05:30

ami jani na, i know not
have you ever had those dreams?
the ones where you are naked in the middle of people you know..
i used to have those dreams quite often when i was a kid.
psychologists tell us that if you have those dreams
you are feeling insecure and the people the reason
so, why would a twelve year old kid feel insecure and who would make him feel so?

that same person came back in my life and for a small time i thought i was happy
i knew not the storm that was lurking behind the calm
it hit me full force when i started having those same dreams
this time it was much more embarrassing and vivid
i have cried like a baby many times since,
every time bleeding internally and losing a little bit of the happy place that i had built
hoping some day to live in it, loved and alive.

IM BACK!!!!!!!!!!!

2010-05-17T00:28:00.000+05:30

hi guys i am back... and it feels amazing to be writing again after such a long hiatus, and may i make a mention here that it was a forced one! unfortunately the internet here at NOFRA was down for thelast couple of months and i had little option of going online and typing... so i guess that i will be meeting you as well as myself on this platform pretty regularly again. i have here with me sitting right next to me a very old friend, Pappu. he was one of those confidantes who i would turn to every time i needed a sympathetic ear, and we have had our shares of tiffs as well. but what ship can be called great which hasn't faced a gale or two? so, it is that we have had our times, good and bad, memorable and not-so-memorable. however, the fact that he has come to visit me after four years of absolute no contact says a lot about our friendship. hope to speak a lot more tomorrow, but i'm in a hurry to sleep today. bye and see you all soon.

FORGOT UR GMAIL ID?

2010-04-01T07:55:00.000+05:30

well there's nothing else to do actually. there are two ways to go about this. first, you need to remember your alternative email id that you provided when signing up. in case you do, just go to the FORGOT YOUR PASSWORD PAGE and type in the necessary email id. your password will be sent to you within the next 5 minutes. in case you have forgotten your alternative email id, there is one more option. you need to remember your security question. if you do, voila!! there you go.

but, in case you don't, there are some other options available on the net but i wouldn't advise using them. they are called keylogger software. if you type "break/crack/hack gmail password" in google, you will get access to a lot of these freeware. the way they work is pretty simple. they will keep a record of all the keystrokes you make and all the encrypted data like passwords can be extracted using them. however, this will work only if someone uses the account after the keylogger software has been installed. that is, a person with malicious intent alone will use such software to get access to someone else's software. which is why it is always safer to use the onscreen keyboard when you login to your net banking account from a cafe. these softwares can also extract the passwords that have been saved on your pc/laptop or has been used on them earlier. however, in case someone has remembered to delete the history and cookies files there is no option to extract that either. just a reminder, most of these keylogger softwares are malwares. they invariably have trojans hidden in them. so, even if you decide to go ahead and track your friend's, fiancee's or spouse's password you might be doing at the risk of your own data.
another very important fact that i learnt today is that if ever you sign up for an account based on an invitation from someone you do not know, the best idea would be to go to that site and sign up on your own and not from the link that was sent to you. even if you do sign up based on that link, carefully check every column for any pre-entered data, like alternate email-id, security question, etc, before you submit. cheers.

BONGS... :D

2010-03-25T14:50:00.000+05:30

There are two kinds of Bengalis that we know. Probashi or Expatriate Bangalees, a fairly large and diverse group and Bengalees who are from Kolkata. This group is incorrectly known as Bongs, as they are merely a subset. However, this is the only group which matters.
Gokhale said of them, long years ago, "What Bengal thinks today, India thinks tomorrow." To which Rene Descartes responded, "I think (today), therefore I am (Bengali)." Like all other Nobel Prize Winners, Oscar Awardees and most successful Indian cricket captains, Rene Descartes was also a Bong (this fact is not known outside of Kolkata).
Physical Description:
The Bong has a large head, glasses, glistening hair and dark skin. Older Bongs develop an ample stomach to balance their large heads. This happens by the age of 25. They smell of Keo Karpin. The average life expectancy is
65 years. What is even more impressive is what they do in those years. Outside Kolkata, regardless of weather, sex or age, Bongs can be seen in their Monkey Caps. This is a must-have accessory as well as a sign to recognise other Bongs.
Early Years:
While most Bongs are born with innate talents in singing, dancing, painting, film-making, cooking or embroidery, their creative talents are honed even before they can start speaking. Frequent meets are organised between infants and their successful ancestors and other relatives.
MA degrees (preferably from Cambridge, or at least from Presidency or
Jadobpoor) are displayed over the cots. The infant is exposed to the best of Bengali thought - Marx, Bentham, Kalidash, Tolstoy, Chekov.
This increases the size of their heads and the height of their ambitions.
Similar examples, though rare, can be found in European tradition as well, as in the case of Mozart.
In India, however, Bongs have the sole preserve on such activity during infancy. Soon, when they grow up a little, their characters are further honed in the best of schools. Here, I am not referring to the St.
Xavier's, La Marts, Don Bosco's et al. They are important in the nurture a Bong child goes through. What is even more important are the schools the Bong child passes through before school and after school.
Many a Bong child wakes up at five o'clock in the morning to attend swimming classes. After one hour of swimming, he attends tennis coaching before rushing off to one of the first heaven schools mentioned above.
School finishes by three or so, from where, he scoots along to Singing/ Instrumental Music/ Dance Classes, followed by tuition (in at least three of all five subjects). He rounds off the day with coaching on either Debating or Quizzing.
Many a Bong mom, after the mandatory afternoon nap, will carry the child along through this day, feeling equally energised with uncommon zeal.
This behaviour is again not restricted to Bongs. It is also seen within kangaroos in Australia, who rush along from one clump to another bush.
Growing up:
Soon the Bong attains adolescence, doesn't find friends of his age (since everyone is competing for the Nobel Prize or the Indian captaincy) and finds intimacy in conversation in his/her parents or the poems of T.S.
Eliot and Pablo Neruda. When school ends, they move on to the good colleges - St. Xavier's, Presidency or IIT Kharagpur. The best of them, though, move straight to Joo (Jadobpoor). However, in recent years, Dilli (Stephen's obviously), is becoming the preferred destination for some escapists.
In colleges, they decorate their rooms with books or portraits of Robi Thakur (Tagore). On the opposite wall, they will have posters of Che/Maradona and Enrique Iglesias, thus expressing solidarity with Latin American culture. All of them share equal interest in the Bong-Rock (Bhumi, Chondrobindu, Cactus,Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin and Deep Purple).
Later Years:
Bongs mature early. Critics have said that they grow old early, but that is nothing but old hat. Years of toil and Eliot would obviously bestow wisdom. The reason they look older is because the sole purpose of a Bong's life is to win the Nobel Prize or the Oscars (and in recent years, captain the Indian team). With great responsibility comes great age.
Add to it, the chlorine in the swimming pools and you know why Bongs grey prematurely. As far as their mission in life is concerned, they have been very successful at it. Every Indian Nobel Prize winner has been Bong. So have the Oscar Awardees. And most succesful Cricket Captain.
And Bipasha Basu.
Once Bongs have kids though, their mission on life changes. The only raision d'etre for them is making sure that their progeny achieves the heights that they could (orcouldn't). Hence, parent Bongs are mostly found outside of schools, colleges and tuition classes.
Diet:
Diet is as important as Robindro Shongeet. There's nothing that a Bong can't eat. However, they prefer protein over other food groups.
The largest source of protein for them is fish, then meat, and then mishti
(sweets) made from milk. More than fish itself, it is the knowledge of fish which is coveted and enjoyed. Carbohydrates are tolerated if they are deep-fried in oil or if it is an accompaniment to fish. Luchis (somewhat like a Puri), Telebhajas (pakoras) and Phuchkas (Paani Puri) are the favoured source of carbohydrates. The young Bengali though, invariably, always lives on a diet of Farex, Lactogen and Waterbury's Compound followed by Horlicks in later years.
Mating and procreation:
A few Bong end up being in relationships, which lead to love marriage.
This is sometimes shown in movies and song. However, most do not have any such social malignancy and end up marrying the woman of their mother's dreams or men of their father's choosing. This results in mixing the right genes for the next cycle of Bongs. Love marriage, by its very nature, is random. It sometimes results is tragedy, like marrying into another country (like India).Hence, it is avoided, wherever possible.
Social Life:
Adda, Robindro Shongeet and Cha. Repeat. Do note that the young Bong doesn't have a social life (at least not till he wins the Nobel or gets a Government job).
Habitat:
While you may find a Bong in other places (like occasionally in offices), the best time to observe a Bong is in his natural habitat -the best of colleges, the best of schools, the best of coffee houses. It is here that he will tell you about Balzac while she will recite poetry with gay abandon.
To mix in with the Bong, apply Keo Karpin to your hair and carry a jhola.
Hopefully, they won't notice your small head. Do not worry about not knowing the language, as the Bong likes being heard.
Famous Bongs:
Many famous Bongs have been referred to in this extract. Hence, this section is used to debunk that big myth about Bongs. People believe that Bong men can't be hunky. If so, then what about Abhishek Bachchan (via
mother,) Saif Ali Khan (via mother), John Abraham (via girlfriend), Hritik Roshan (via grandmother). Which only goes to prove that Bongs are good guys, despite their love of cracking jokes about every other community but completely lacking the ability to laugh at themselves!

--

MY POEM

2010-03-25T00:24:00.002+05:30

at times the pain seems unbearable
serpent inside my head, coiling around my temple
time ticks unbearably slowly, life is just not worth living
the sky is black like tar, not a single star to cheer me.

the veins in my eyes burst, blood blurs vision
i look at my hazy form in a mirror
only two red eyes look grossly back at me
i'm lost as i search for the right language to express myself
my heart bleeds incessantly, language irrelevant.

my throat is parched as are my insides,
thoughts come at random, like bolts from the blue
i wince in pain as they explode into recognition
i shiver as i realise that all is part of a whole

fear makes me numb even as my brain works frantically
as the small pieces start falling in place
the picture starts to resemble a horrible nightmare
my worst and, yet, now a a stark reality

colours creep into the picture from the confines of hell
my angel has left my side, hope has flickered away
im being devoured alive from inside my brain
i know not how to stop this madness

my fears have driven me to the brink of despair
it seems beyond my efforts to stop this nemesis from hell
i have not given up yet, something tells me not to
life persists even after the worst storm has had its say
life persists on land that has been ravaged by fire

life exists on land that was blasted by an atom bomb
life supercedes all barriers we put in its way
scientists predict it will flicker away someday
some billion or trillion years later when the sun will explode
yet, i prefer to believe that life will endure
maybe as a microscopic speck at the other end of the universe

it is from life that i draw my ultimate lesson
i know somewhere deep within me lies strength
the strength to overcome this fiend in its worst form
it is that strength which i seek now

i search all around and within myself
i have got to save my save myself and my angel
from this mutating disease that is me
i clutch at every straw that comes my way
i seek mercy from god, whom i've ignored until now
i seek mercy from my stars, in whom i had no faith
i seek to impress myself with the lesson of other men

it is the demons within me that i need to conquer
i know even as i persevere, i shall find truth
i need to see through this storm and my angel awaits me
with a smile on its radiant face and a twinkle in its eyes
it will take me into its arms and peace will be mine
like a foetus in its mother's womb, i will be free of my troubles
i sail towards happiness in the arms of my angel, my DESTINY.

LSD= LOVE + SENA + DHARMA

2010-03-24T23:47:00.001+05:30

I HAD WRITTEN THIS IN A LETTER A LONG TIME BACK.. AT LEAST IT SEEMS A LONG TIME BACK AND IS A RATHER FASCINATING COMMENTARY ON THE LONGEVITY OF PUBLIC PERCEPTION AND MEMORY. HOWEVER, HERE GOES......

the v-day might have found the Muthaliks and the Raj Thakerays of this world with their genitals in a twist because they fear to see the day when a woman will come up and tell them," get it up, you old fart !" for the rest of us its just another day when we spend some time to think of the one we love. but then its time we removed the cynicism from our system and accepted that any day that helps us to remember the ones we love is godsend and we shouldn't spend it cursing others or ourselves. before the year 1969, the church recognised 13 different v-days. guess what sort of a situation the Muthaliks would have found themselves in if that had been the case today! what with the uncultured youth of today learning all new ways to have fun, it would have been a riot if they had found thirteen different days to express their love!!!! i mean life should be like it was in the "earlier days"-- that is to say like they might have had in their repressed childhood. think of the glorious days when you could hang a couple because they thought that they could marry inter caste. and the kids of today think that in 30 years the world has changed so much that they can marry inter religion... i mean haven't we learnt anything from our beloved Taliban brothers or what?! see, they keep saying that the essence of all religions is the same. after all, both the Taliban and us are performing the holy rite of cleansing this dirty earth of filthy women who, of late, have begun to think that they can be equal to men. wasn't the hallowed position of a mother or the wife not enough? that's our culture after all to have all women act as mothers... we do not recognise any other form of the woman-- so what if lakshmi is krishnas concubinbe? only in this land of miracles can the semen of the great saints flow down our great mother ganges and impregnate our sati sadhwi women. the saints never did anything wrong after all.... and to think of it who ever heard of our ancestors copulating?? its the greatest sin of all... should never have been discovered by man... and that dirty thing is never supposed to be done without the supervision of the old men (like Muthalik), who can advise the younger generation how to do it, although they, like their gods, have never indulged in such immoral acts.... the reason that such acts are condoned is that we need our great race to live on and produce more great men like the Muthalik... after all his mother must have had a virgin pregnancy. in any case, if the christian gods can do it why cant our esteemed mothers? marriage is the way that has been shown by our forefathers to keep the female species under control and the weak male of today needs to be taught how to use it well... why don't we ask the Muthalik to write a book, maybe titled "how to empower men- marriage". with all the generations of knowledge that remains trapped in the heads of great leaders like the muthalik we need to tap it for better usage... can we actually take his brain and transplant it in a termite and see if it runs to kill its mate? hope we have more men like the muthalik come up and enlighten our television sets in the future... i might even ask him to give a job to my brother. after all he does have a good sense of comedy... and, as a last word, those sculptures at khajuraho aren't authentic after all, i have been told in the strictest confidence by the muthalik... they have been tampered by our british rulers during their 200 years here. those sick, perverted men added the genitalia and removed the clothes from the deities who were actually performing holy rites!

IN VIEW OF THE RECENT UPROAR OVER THE RESERVATION FOR WOMEN IN THE PARLIAMENT, I GUESS THE NEED FOR THE LALLOO YADAV CLAN HAS GROWN EVEN MORE ACUTE. AFTER ALL, THERE AREN'T MANY MEN WHO CAN LIFT THE GAUNTLET AND PICK UP THE CUDGEL IN THE FIGHT FOR MEN'S RIGHTS. I AM NOT TOO SURE WHAT TRANSPIRED IN THE PARLIAMENT UNDER THE GARB OF EMPOWERMENT OF WOMEN WAS ACTUALLY WHAT IT SET OUT TO BE. IN FACT, I'M PRETTY SURE THAT IT WAS SMART POLITICAL MANOEUVRING ON BEHALF OF THE CONGRESS LED GOVERNMENT MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE. IN MY OPINION, IT WAS MORE OF A CASE OF OILING THE WELL OILED HEAD. ONLY THOSE WHO HAVE ACCESS TO POWER SHALL BECOME MORE POWERFUL AND THE POOR SHALL GET MORE POWERLESS. EVEN SO, IT MAY STILL TURN OUT TO BE A RATHER PATH BREAKING STEP THAN WE EXPECT IT TO BE.

LIFE IS LOOKING UP

2010-01-30T22:09:00.001+05:30

hell ya! thats the way they say it in yankeeland. in my place they say, "mar diya kella". well, there is sufficient reason for me to be so happy and perky. my dad is retiring today, the last day of a memorable career. he has worked tirelessly as a teacher for many years and as headmaster and administrator for the last few years. i might be biased when i say that he could have done great things for himself if he ever wanted to do, but i somehow feel that i'm not too much off the mark. he never had the drive to achieve those things for himself though, the eternal story of a comrade from bengal. he was born the fourth son of gopiballav mazumder and annapurna mazumder in a remote village called gangarampur. he had eight siblings, three brothers and five sisters. typical of that generation the concern for birth control was simply non existent and so were the means. at the risk of sounding blasphemous, i would like to add that if anything should have been invented a little earlier it should have been the CONDOM. today we sing songs about condoms, yet, just two generations before my grandfather sired nine children! anyway, coming back to my father, he grew up in that small village the first few years of his life. his family wasn't exceptionally rich although they were zamindars prior to independence. the reason prima facie is that my grandfather, a well known leader of the zilla congress and a freedom fighter, was a very rigid man when it came to toeing the line. the government diktat was that every individual could own only a certain amount of land and no more. this was done to make the distribution of land equitable in a country which was notoriously lopsided as far as division of wealth is concerned. however, the fledgling government could only issue diktats, and not much more. there was no system in place to check the corrupt from hoarding huge amounts of land under false pretences. my grandfather was one of those men who gave away all his land just because it was the rule.

so, although they weren't exactly poor, they weren't very rich either. my eldest uncle was raised by my grandfather's brother. he was many years older than his youngest brother. my father was eighth in the line and grew up more or less in that rural setting. he, however, left home at the age of eighteen after having finished schooling. it was the difference of political ideologies between the my granddad and my dad which led to this situation and this difference was never resolved till the granddad's death. my father respected his father very much but could not compromise with his political ideologies either. he was the first breed of communists of Bengal, one of the first batch of men who dreamt of an equal world. Bengal was tumultuous place in his youth. the faith of the masses was slowly shifting from a dilapidated congress led by the flamboyant siddhartha shankar ray, who had more interest in leading the nation than taking care of Bengal. Bengal witnessed many bloody riots and massacres in the 70s. food was scarce and drought was the danger that drove millions into a frenzy. the world has borne witness to bloody battles wherever communism has taken roots. Bengal was no exception. people were shown the dream of a better future, an equal world, and the lure of a good life. it was the opposite of george orwell's 1984, and the propaganda machine that the communists had was efficient and powered by fanatics. my father was one of those men who dreamt of the dream and lived the life that a comrade takes pride in. he lived in hiding and fought off many threats to his life. it was during the years succeeding his college days that saw him rise to the forefront in the local communist leadership.

it was then that a happy chance brought my parents together. my mom was a rather beautiful young woman who was known all around the district for her intelligence and aptitude. she had topped the board exams despite being bed ridden with typhoid and later with chicken pox. she was slated to join science and become a scientist. however, her headmistress decided that she had too good a flair for teh english language to be wasted on science. so, english it was that she took up. she came to the same college where my dad had studied and was now the president of the students' union. they fell in love and married within six months of meeting. it was his love for my mom that made my dad leave politics. i guess he may also have been disillusioned by the turn communism was taking in india and may also have foreseen the sad state of affairs that were to befall. he remains an ardent supporter till now, but age and the state of affairs have robbed him of the strength of his conviction. he does not fight over the right path of communism any more but chooses to be a silent spectator.

he joined halisahar high school as an assistant teacher of chemistry and continued there for many years. it was only when i was in my class ninth that he decided to apply for headmaster and qualified as the headmaster of kataganj gokulpur adarsha shikshayatan, the largest and most prestigious school of its area. like i said in the beginning, he could have scaled many peaks if he had chosen to, but he was a man of that generation which sadly is no more. they were satisfied with little, the hunger for more had not afflicted them. call it consumerism, call it evolution of the human race, he was perhaps a man from a different era. men of his ilk chose to ignore the frivolous luxuries of life and concentrate on the bare necessities. there have been many students who have received free coaching from him because he believed that taking money for private tutions was akin to stealing. like i said, his generation exists no more, at least not where i live. so, today when i see him retiring as a satisfied man, a man who may not have left behind too deep an imprint on the sands of time, but a man who knows that he did his job diligently, and, hence, the satisfaction, all i can wish for myself is that many years later i can achieve the peace that he has. he isn't just my role model but the gold standard by which i shall measure myself every step of my life so taht i never go astray.

BTW, i gifted him a golden retriever puppy. they were both very angry and shocked at the gift but i just knew that that cute pup would win over them in no time. now i hear that my mom is considering buying diapers for the dog! yet, they still crib about who is going to take care of the dog! :)

BHALO THEKO THAKUMA... FARE THEE WELL GRANDMA

2010-01-26T10:09:00.004+05:30

CONTINUED FROM MY LAST POST...........

he refused to leave his village and there was no way that my dad could leave his job and go back to the village. so it was left to barun uncle, i call him kaku, to take care of him. barunkaku did manage to extract the only thing he had left, his house, but took care of him till his last days. after all barun kaku isn't a man of great means, and he needed that house more than the others. my mother always shared a great bonding with my grandmother, the two women recognising kindred souls. one one hand was a pragmatic woman who spoke little and strove hard to never come in anyone's way, one the other hand was a scatter brained, yet, fiery young woman, who would take no slight lightly. somehow, they struck a cord and i have seen my mom share great moments with her mother-in-law. this, in spite of my grandfather's dislike for my mom. so, after my grandpa died, my parents really wanted my grandma to come and live with us. she, however, was far more practical than them, she realised that she wouldn't fare very well far away from her village which is the only place she had known for years. besides, she also realised that she needed care in her advanced age and that would be difficult for my parents to provide, since they were both working individuals. on the other hand, barun kaku's wife was a housewife (a home maker in today's politically correct terms) and she would be able to look after her.

it was in gangarampur she spent the rest of her days and today morning she breathed her last. i haven't really been the best grandson she could hope for, but then she isn't one to complain. she, even when in delirium, recognised me and always had a soft word or two to say. somehow, the tears don't seem to come that easily this time. yet, i know i am going to miss her. its probably for the best that she died, because she was suffering so, but still the heart refuses to let go. i wanted to see her one more time before she left and now i don't have that chance. now, the tears are coming and its a relief. i worry for my dad though, he loved her a lot. i wonder what it would be like to lose my own mother, the woman who is responsible for everything i am. i don't really know who i am crying for, her or me.