" Life, with its chance meetings, it togetherness for a few months, its relations which have no emotions and emotions that do not find sanction in a relation, is an anguished interrogation of reality which man must inhabit..."

another one for the road..

There comes a time in life.. when you feel alone.. really alone.. when you have so much to say, but you have noone to listen.. or the people that are willing to listen to you, you don't consider them close enough.. when you feel that the past has taken the best part of you away with it, and that the future has therefore nothing worth the effort.. when you feel that it would be best if you just stopped.. stopped waking up, stopped going through the motions over and over and over again.. when you wonder if Time has come up against a dead end.. It's so very hard to get out of that phase, to tell yourself that there are things yet to be done, people yet to be entertained, promises yet to be kept..

It comes in everyone's life, does it not?

The first of the failures..

IIFT results came out today evening. Didn't make it.

one for the road..

Missing you. Missing you so, so much..

CATastrophe!

College Street

 "Coffee house r shei adda-ta aaj r nei.. aaj r nei..
kothaay haariye gyalo shonali bikel gulo shei.. aaj r nei.."

Some say it reminds them of Oxford Street, the die-hards chant “Nakshalbari Laal Salaam!” and the long-bearded intellectuals sum in the immortal lines quoted above. Paradise and indispensable to those who earn their livelihood here, College Street is abhorred by others due to its puzzling traffic-jams and (almost every day) road blockades. In spite of this, College St. and its hinterland remains one of the most intriguing and unique niches of the metropolis.

It’s the place where the true spirit of the Bengali Renaissance blends harmoniously with the ideology of the turbulent ‘70s. But, today, it is best known for the innumerous bookstalls lining its pavements. From ICSE projects to “Tagore’s Secret Love”, from a copy of Harry Potter to a collection of the black and white photographs of the bloody World Wars, myriad are the number of books that catch your eye. And if you are particularly adept at bargaining, then the world of print is yours.

The first landmark that’s bound to catch your eye is the Coffee House, by which the intelligentsia can swear. As you go up its dilapidated flight of steps, and enter the smoke-cloaked room, you are sure to find people from every walk of life here - from the Bon Jovis of the bathroom to the Kishore Kumars of the canteen, from long-bearded, kurta-clad undergrads to beedi-smoking intellectuals.

At the other end are a cluster of video-handling foreigners, who blend with the surroundings with equal ease. Then of course, there are the Romeos and Juliets whispering softly at their new spring of love, the truant students from college regaling each other with lively anecdotes during their never-ending ‘adda’ sessions, the office-goers dropping by for a quick sip, the budding politicians, the philosophers (both pseudo and real) and many others. But, today this building is fast succumbing to the damp and polluted air that gnaws away bits of history. Lack of maintenance, inadequate funds and the sorry fact that the food, once ordered, takes almost unbearably long to appear has left this piece of historical evidence in a state of disrepair and semi-oblivion.

Once you take a stroll down the streets of College Street ‘boi para’ (as it’s fondly called by book-lovers and non-lovers alike), it becomes evident almost immediately as to why it is so named. An array of ancient buildings with their flamboyant, Gothic architecture preside serenely over the street. Relics of another era when all was right, and literature reached its apex, they remind you of that oft-repeated (but no longer relevant) quote : "What Bengal thinks today, India thinks tomorrow..". Presidency College (my second home), Medical College, Calcutta University - all leave you awe-struck by their magnificence.

Another inseparable part of this street is the College Square swimming pool. It is one of the city’s remaining places of refuge for its innumerable couples. On the other side, romance of a different ‘taste’ prevails as you indulge your gastric juices at the numerous eating outlets. Perhaps it is the best place in Kolkata to quench your thirst with a glass of lime-water. It is a slice of Kolkata’s colonial past offering a unique taste of the lost legacy of the British Raj.

Then there are strewn remnants of the Naxalite eruption. A legacy of the by-gone age is the omnipresent microphone that attempts to solve problems, but ends up adding to them instead. You can almost hear it every day - the familiar “cholchhe cholbe” and “maanchhina maanbona”, the bloodcurdling warcries of “lorai lorai lorai chaai, lorai kore baachte chaai!” and the hair-rising “Inquilaab Zindabaad!” - it is where the politicians receive their first training.

This, in a nutshell, is a kaleidoscope of the little world of College Street - a planet of booksellers, students, revolutionaries, of broken dreams and lofty ambitions. Generations fade away, yet the spirit remains - searching for an opportunity to blossom again. In spite of all these, it endures and withstands the ravages of time in a bid to fulfill its tryst with destiny…..

But today, the centuries-old buildings of College Street are being remodeled to pave way for the cyber-cafes, while the Coffee House is losing its glory to the nearby Food Station. If for nothing else, the essence of College Street and all it signifies should be protected simply to assure future generations of their cup of infusion, their cigarette-burning adda sessions in the college corridors and their right to experience the true spirit of Kolkata’s college life. The way I am..

(the article speaks for itself, I believe!)

// the following is reported verbatim from a flyer that came with The Telegraph, 23rd September, 2008. Once you read it through, I believe you'll understand why exactly I had to post this...

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(I wonder what on earth happens to those who are desperate enough to contact them...)

The Alphabet. (eh?)

[Okay. First of all, credit where credit is due. The rest of this scribble is a word-to-word reproduction of a brilliant piece of comic relief I came across on the internet (the exact location of which has unfortunately slipped from my mind). I neither demand nor deserve credit for it. So, here goes...]

A is for ‘Awpheesh’ ( as in Office ). This is where the average Kolkattan goes and spends a day hard at work. If he works for the ‘West Bengal Gorment’ he will arrive at 10, wipe his forehead till 11, have a tea-break at 12, throw around a few files at 12:30, break for lunch at 1, smoke an unfiltered cigarette at 2, break for tea at 3, sleep sitting down at 4 and go home at 4:30. It’s a hard life !

B is for ‘Bhision’. For some reason, most Bengalees don’t possess ‘good bhision’. In fact, in Kolkata most people wear spectacles all the time…

C if for 'Chappell'. This was once the Bengali word for the Devil, for the worst form of evil. At night, mothers have been known to put their kids to sleep saying, “Ghumiye poro, shona.. Naa ghumoley Chappell eshe dhore niye jaabe !! “

D is for Debashish. Or any other name starting with 'Deb'. By an ancient law, every fourth Bengalee child has to be named Debashish. So you have a Debashish everywhere and, trying to get creative, they are also called Deb, Debu, Deba with variations like Debanik, Deboprotim, Debojyoti etc. thrown in at times.

E is for ‘Eeesh’. This is a very common expression made famous by Aishwarya Rai in the movie ‘Devdas’. It’s estimated that on an average, a Bengalee – especially Bengalee women – use 'eeesh' 10,089 times each year. ‘Ei morechhey’ is a close second to ‘Eeesh’.

F is for ‘Feeesh’. These are creatures that swim in rivers and seas and are a favourite food of the Bengalees. Despite the fact that a fish market has such strong smells, with one sniff a Bengalee knows if a fish is all right. If not, he will say “ Eeesh, what feeesh is theesh !! “

G is for ‘good name’. Every Bengalee boy will have a good name like Debashish or Deboprotim and a pet name like Motka, Bhombol, Thobla etc. Girls, on the other hand, have their ‘good name’s ranging from Priyanka to Sulagna and sport pet-names like Tia, Tuktuki, Mishti, Khuku etc.

H is for ‘Harmonium’. This is the Bengali equivalent to a rock guitar. Take four Bengalees and a harmonium and you have the successors of ‘The Bheatles’ !!

I is for “Ileesh’. This is a 'feesh' with 10,000 bones which would kill any ordinary person, but which the Bengalees eat with ‘rayleeesh’ !!

J is for ‘Jhola’. No self-respecting Bengalee is complete without his Jhola. It’s a shapeless cloth bag where he keeps all his belongings and he fits in an amazing number of things. Even as you read, there are 2 million jholas bobbling around Kolkata.. and they ALL look EXACTLY THE SAME !! Note that ‘Jhol’ as in ‘Macchher Jhol’ finishes a close second.

K is for ‘Kee Kaando!’ It used to be the favourite expression until ‘eeesh’ took over.

L is for ‘Lungi’ – the dress for all occasions. People in Kolkata manage to play football and cricket wearing it, not to mention the daily morning trip to the local bazaar ! Now, there’s talk of a ‘Lungi expedition’ to the Mt. Everest !!

M is for ‘Minibus’. These are dangerous half-buses whose antics would effortlessly frighten the living daylights out of all James Bond stuntmen as well as Formula 1 race car drivers.

N is for ‘Nangto’. This is the Bengali word for ‘naked’. It’s the most interesting naked word in any language !

O is for 'Oil'. The Bengalees believe that a touch of mustard oil will cure anything from cold (oil in the nose), to earache (oil in the ear), to cough (oil in the throat) to piles (oil you-know-where !)

P is for ‘Phootball’. This is always a 'phavourite phassion' of the Kolkattan. Every Bengalee is born an expert in this game. The two biggest clubs are Mohun Bagan and East Bengal and, when they play, the city comes to a stop.

Q is for 'Queen'. {There’s nothing that this had to do with either the Bengalees or Kolkata, but it’s the only ‘Q’-word I could think of at this moment. There’s also ‘Quilt’, but they never use them in Kolkata. }

R is for 'Robi Thakur'. Many many years ago, Rabindranath Tagore got the Nobel prize. This has given the right to all Bengalees, no matter where they are, to frame their acceptance speeches as if they were directly related to the great poet and walk with their head held high. This also gives Bengalees the birthright to look down on Delhi and Mumbai, and of course, all ‘non-Bengalees’ ! Special mention must also be made of ‘Rawshowgolla’, which finishes second.

S is for 'Shourav'. Now that they finally produced a genuine cricketer and a captain, Bengalees think that he should be allowed to play until he is 70 yrs old. Of course they will see to it that he stays in good form by doing a little bit of ‘joggo’ and ‘maanot’.

T is for 'Tram'. Hundred years later, there are still trams in Kolkata. Of course if you are in a hurry, it’s faster to walk.

U is for ‘Aambrella’.

V is for ‘Bhaayolence’. Bengalees are the most non-violent people around. When an accident happens, they’ll fold up their sleeves, shout, scream (and curse and abuse) “ Chherey de bolchhi !! “, but the last time someone actually hit someone was in 1979.

W is for 'Water'. For 3 months of the year, the city is underwater and every year for the last 200 years the authorities are taken by surprise by this !

X is for 'X’mas'. It’s very big in Kolkata, with Park Street fully lit up and all Bengalees agree that they must eat cake that day.

Y is for ‘Yesshtaarday’. Which is always better than today for a Bengalee.

Z is for 'Jebra', 'Jipper' and 'Jylophone'.

“ I saw his teeth and the cheeky grin with which he foretold history. I felt his handshake and, like a distant murmur, his formal goodbye. The night, folding in at contact with his words, overtook me again, enveloping me within it. But despite his words, I now knew.. I knew that when the great guiding spirit cleaves humanity into two antagonistic halves, I would be with the people. I know this, I see it printed in the night sky that I, eclectic dissembler of doctrine and psychoanalyst of dogma, howling like one possessed, will assault the barricades or the trenches, will take my bloodstained weapon and, consumed with fury, slaughter any enemy who falls into my hands. And I see, as if a great exhaustion smothers this fresh revolution, I see myself, immolated in the genuine revolution, the great equalizer of individual will, proclaiming the ultimate ‘meaculpa’. I feel my nostrils dilate, savouring the acrid smell of gunpowder and blood, of the enemy’s death; I steel my body, ready to do battle, and prepare myself to be a sacred space within which the bestial howl of the triumphant proletariat can resound with new energy and new hope… ”

- Ernesto 'Che' Guevara de la Serna, “The Motorcycle Diaries”

" uff, kotodiin tomaake dekhini..

dekhteo chaina - a kotha mitthye noy..

aashol-a jeebon bole shotti kichhu nei,

jeebon jeebitoh thaakar obhinoy...

hmm.. kyano korle erokom.. bolo..

kyano korle erokom... "

FOSSILS. Khub mone porchhilo gaan-ta, tai best paragraph ta ekhane dilaam. R kono kaaron nei.

 "Writing is no trouble: you just jot down ideas as they occur to you. The jotting is simplicity itself - it is the occurring which is difficult." - Stephen Leacock

I sometimes think that auto-wallahs have this sixth sense.. How else do they manage to play the exact song I had been wanting to hear right at that very moment with such startling regularity ? Today it was "Dil de diya hain.." sung by Anand Raj Anand.. How I love that song!

A lucid remembrance..

17:53 hrs IST, Tuesday, the 20th of October, 2009

There’s a political parade snaking its way forward on the lane in front of my house, the leaders shouting their voices raw with (the usual) “jobaab chaai, jobaab daao”s. I am standing on my balcony, looking at the throng of bodies, most of them in various stages of disinterestedness. Some, in fact, are casually laughing and chatting amongst themselves, as if they’re out on a leisurely evening walk. I am looking at them alright, and yet I am not.. The vision that forms in front of my eyes is of a sweltering July mid-afternoon, that time of the year when uncountable droplets of sweat form on the forehead and roll down to the chin before a handkerchief can be whipped out. I remember that procession very well, that group of students of all shapes and sizes, all streams and ages, all backgrounds and upbringings.. I remember the parched throats, the ringing slogans, the raging fires in the hearts of the hundred strong army of youth at 86/1, College Street.. I remember the awe that passers-by regarded us with, the look of surprise on the taxi-drivers’ faces at the sheer volume of our incensed voices, our frenzied clapping of hands, out stamping feet.. And as the train of people vanish round the bend, and as memories fade, one slogan lingers on.. "Loraai loraai loraai chaai, / loraai korey baachte chaai ! / Ei loraai lorbe k ? / Tumi, aami, aabar k…"

...

Can I please rip my head off?

I bought the latest edition of the Oxford Reference Dictionary today. From the place that most Kolkattans rush to when they need a book - College Street. The marked price was Rs 2169. And, guess what, I bought the book for Rs 1000. Not a penny more, not a penny less. That amounts to a discount of more than 50 per cent ! I still cannot help but wonder how much the shopkeeper must have bought it for... ( I also bought Amartya Sen's "The Argumentative Indian" at a 20 per cent discount but that is quite unrelated. )