Artists..

‎"An artist is a dreamer consenting to dream of the actual world. If we could only promote their art with such impact, perhaps we could even transform society.."

Missing you.. so very much..

I miss you so much now.. Right now.. I know we’ve had many disagreements, all the more so while I have been growing older and dumber, but now that I’m away from you, I miss you so, so much.. Maa, I miss the loving caress of your hands in my hair when I cannot sleep.. I miss you so much.. I miss you scolding me, I miss your childish simplicity and innocence.. Baba, I miss your honesty, your experienced and wise way of looking at things, your acceptance of the inevitable.. I am so, so sorry for not being able to be the son you both deserve, for not being even able to come close.. I will try very hard from right now, that I promise.. From this very moment.. till the day I wake up no more.. THAT I promise to you…

Young poets

Write as you will
In whatever style you like
Too much blood has run under the bridge
To go on believing
That only one road is right.
In poetry everything is permitted.
With only this condition of course,
You have to improve the blank page.

- Nicanor Parra

Lost-and-Found

I sometimes wish we had a Lost-and-Found box. You know, one where we could go and look for things that we have lost along this path of life. We lose so many things - books, pens and pencils, erasers, plastic rulers, personal diaries, storybooks (that we never wanted to lose), bills and memos, important (but hard to keep track of) documents, CDs and DVDs, keys, friends who have inexplicably turned strangers, loved ones who may not be so anymore, our relationships, our identities and sometimes even ourselves. Surely, it would have been rather nice to have had a place to go search for such things..

A promise made to myself

The movie “Slumdog Millionaire” should be used as a pill that awakens Indians to the plight of street-children. We shouldn’t denounce it by saying that it showcases only the dark side of India; if anything, we should acknowledge it as the fact of what happens in India today, and then try to do away with such evils. On my journey back to Kolkata from Pune on board the Azad-Hind Express, there was this little girl with a pink shirt and a black frock who was performing little tricks with a large iron ring draped around her thin shoulders. Then she approached each passenger with a bowl, begging for alms. As I dropped some coins into the bowl, I patted her on the head and whispered to myself that she didn’t deserve this. I don’t know what she made of my gesture but she gave me a smile that was so sad that I had to bite my tongue to hold back the tears. We’ve got it all wrong, I felt. Everything. We need a complete overhaul of the Indian scenario. And we need it now.

I may not remember everything that took place on my trip to Pune, but the little girl’s smile (and the world of sadness in it) will always be a part of me. And I promise to do something about it.

How cruel can we be?

How low can we sink? How cruel can we be? I learned recently that the spiny tailed lizard or ‘sanda’ (Scientific name – Uromastyx hardwickii); found primarily in UP, Rajasthan, Gujarat and Pakistan, is boiled alive in oil because it’s fat is said to have medicinal value. And no, it doesn’t end there. In order to prevent these tiny creatures (the males grow up to 415 mm and the females grow up to 375 mm) from escaping from their ordeal in the boiling oil, they are often starved for a number of days and their backs are broken. This is the 21^st century? This is where parts of our country stand? It’s said that a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. Tell me, of what use is an increasing GDP or a rise in standards of living if we cannot instill in our brethren the thing that makes man the highest of all living beings? Who is a human if he is not humane?

... because we are not the only ones who live on Planet Earth

The skins of Indian crocodiles (marsh, salt-water and gharials), lizards (all types) and snakes (all types) are regularly used in the manufacture of wallets, ladies’ bags, hunting boots and other footwear, belts, straps of wrist-watches, sandals, briefcases, patches on leather garments (like jackets, skirts and pants) and other ‘fashion items’. Most of the species being slaughtered mercilessly for nothing other than our personal needs are on the endangered list in India. It’s high time all of us take collective responsibility to protect our wildlife. I do not use any leather products and I urge all of you to do the same. Please remember, “If the buying stops, the killing can too…”

So what?

Of course human beings are civilized! Humans sport Peter England, John Mills, Raymonds and United Colors of Benetton, do they not? They cannot get enough of AXE and PLAYBOY; they indulge in manicures and pedicures. They watch TV, play music on iPods, drink water cooled in a refrigerator and shoot down enemy soldiers on a PlayStation. Heck, it is they who make the world go around! Of course humans are civilized! So what if they spit out the window of a bus in motion, without sparing a thought for the pedestrians? So what if they tend to their teeth with a toothpick after a wholesome meal and, on recovering pieces of unchewed food, throw them wherever they feel like? So what if they chop off the heads of live poultry and then hold them by their wings to watch the beheaded birds convulse to death? So what if they cheer on lustily, baying for blood, as farm animals are offered as sacrifices to appease a 'goddess'? So what if their hot topic of discussion the day after the worship of the said 'goddess' is whether or not the executioner managed to severe the head of he sacrificial animal with one clean blow? Humans are the torch-bearers of civilization, aren't they? Of course they're civilized then!

... ?

My mother was telling me today morning that I should try for something else next year and not retake the management exams (provided, of course, that I fail to convert any of my three remaining Interview calls). She feels that I'm like a cheetah; that I can cover a fair bit of distance rather quickly but I lack the ability to sustain that pace for longer periods of time. (Well, I thought to myself, atleast someone has found something similar between my favourite animal and me!)

My first-choice subject (after the ordeal of graduating with Economics Honours) was Journalism and/or Mass Commuinication. I wasn't allowed to sit for any of the relevant entrance exams because my parents felt that "it's a very uncertain future" (I tried making them understand that life itself is very uncertain, but it didn't quite work).

So I decided to give MBA a shot. Now, I'm being advised to try something else..

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I..." Unfortunately, that's where the buck stops. I don't yet know which road is mine to take...

               

And the failures continue to come..

CAT results came out today. The 28th of February, 2010. I got an overall score of 96.54 percentile (Verbal - 99.96 percentile, Reasoning - 85.22 percentile, QA - 67.73 percentile). The overall score is better than I quite frankly expected it to be, but that really doesn't count in the least because with my QA marks, I won't get any calls at all. So CAT is a no go at all.

One of the best songs I've ever tuned in to..

“ Dishe-haara j mon, kiishe sharthok a jeebon,

khuje phiri kotha nebo thaai..

Chaaridiike shobai mor, keu bhaalo keu mondo khub,

aapon maan jeche shetha beraai..

CHORUS: Mon-a bhabna tobu, gheere royechhe shodai,

Etoh chaowa niiye kotha jaai..

Keu ba mathaay, keu piithe, aamar bolaay haath miithe –

diiye jay koto na baahobaai..

Kaaro shondeho oti, sheshe holo ei goti –

Gyalo ki biphol-a jeebon-tai…

CHORUS (x 2)

Paagol hoye j aami, daami holaam aaro daami,

Koto daam janina aamar chaai –

Nebe k kiine aamay, taate ki ba aashe jaay?

Themey jetey bhorosha na paai…

CHORUS (x 2)

Chhilo bondhu ek aamar, pelem hothath dekha taar,

bhoboghurey, chaala-chulo naai..

Tobu khushir haashi’r resh, thot-a hoyna j taar shesh –

ki taar daam shey koreni jachaai…

CHORUS (x 2)

Shono jodi kono diin, aami hothath bhabna-heen,

rakhini kothao mor thikaanai..

Jyeno khoja aamar shesh, taai holaam j niruddesh,

saathe korey shudhu rhidoy-taai…

Mon-a bhabna tobu, gheere royechhe shodai,

Etoh chaowa niiye kotha jaai…

Mon-a bhabna tobu, gheere royechhe shodai,

Etoh chaowa niiye kotha jaai… ”

Best seats in the house..

7th February, 2010. 09:35 hours IST.

I am having a fantastic morning. Absolutely splendid. Around half-an-hour earlier, my mother and I heard this voice begin to in our gully and raced out to the verandah to get a closer look. The owner of the voice turned out to be a baul, clad in whites and an ektara cradled like a child in his arms. We listened with rapt attention (and open-mouthed awe, I must hasten to add) as he sang “Paakhi kyamne aashe jay..” (a song which, incidentally, is a firm favourite of both my mother and myself) like no one has ever sung it before, making every line, every word breathe. When he finished, my mother requested him to grant us audience for another song. It was “Tomaay rhid maajhare raakhibo..” next and, needless to say, this too was beautifully sung. His voice had this unpolished quality and yet was so perfectly melodious that we couldn’t help but hang on to his every word.. My mother and I would have liked nothing more than sit him down for the entire day and listen to him sing, but “A poor life this is full of care, / We have no time to stand and stare..” and I had an examination to sit for. So, we requested him for one final song, and out he came with “Bhalobeshe aami bhikari holaam, tumi hole raani..". Those who have had the pleasure of hearing this song earlier, know how beautiful the lyrics are and this man did a most commendable job of presenting it. We gave this man some money at the end, knowing full well however that whatever we paid him, it would be a gross underpayment. We requested him to visit our locality more often, to which he said that he stepped out of his house on the outskirts of the city very early every morning and went wherever it was that his feet took him, and it was thus not possible for him to guarantee a return. But he did say that like all artistes, he liked singing for people who appreciated his talent and that he would like to come play and sing for us again sometime.

It was a half-an-hour very, very well spent. I do hope to hear the man again.

continuation of "other failures"

Didn't merit a call from XIMB either, just like I predicted. Still, seeing the words "You have not been selected" in print is always tougher than imagining them.

A first-timer's experience

Pune is a visitor’s nightmare.

Right from when you set foot in the city, either at the airport or at the railway station, there are auto-wallahs waiting to rip you off. (Unless, of course, you happen to know the Marathi language, in which case they always charge you the actual rates.) For anyone who is planning to visit Pune and is unfamiliar with the sights and sounds of the city, please note that the auto rickshaws here mainly serve the purpose of taxis. Accordingly, you have to ‘reserve’ an auto rickshaw for your journey and cannot split the expenses with fellow-travelers headed the same way (as is the case here in Kolkata). Further, each auto rickshaw has a meter installed on the iron grid that separates the passenger seat and the driver’s, and it surprisingly records not the amount traveled but the kilometers traveled. How to figure out what actually needs to be paid, you wonder? Well, each auto-wallah has a fare chart – he is required by law to have one – wherein the kilometers vis-à-vis the cost incurred are mentioned quite clearly. Of course, the said auto-wallah may offer incredulous excuses of how he tragically lost the fare-chart or simply refuse to show it to you, in which case you just need to multiply the reading on the meter by 8 and then add 2. For example, if at the end of your journey you find the meter reading to be 6, then (6x8) + 2 = 50 Rupees is what you need to pay. It’s the same anywhere in the city.

Now, in case you’re wondering how it is that an auto-wallah may refuse to show you his fare chart and get away with it, the raison d’être is that you won’t find any policeman to report him to! In fact, you’ll be hard-pressed to find policemen anywhere in the city! Wonder what they’re up to!

Also, in the city of Pune, the concept of privately-owned buses is nonexistent. All buses that ferry people from place to place are painted yellow-and-red and are all run by the city government. The buses are thus quite crowded and difficult to travel in, and the auto-wallahs are left reeling in the cash.

Cutting to the chase, unless you own a car of some sort, or at least a two-wheeler, traveling around the city is a downright pain-in-the-ass. Not to mention really expensive. But one thing I really liked was that the number of women – young and middle-aged – that I spotted piloting two-wheelers in my three-day stay in Pune was far more than the number I’ve spotted in all my years in Kolkata put together.

For regular and frequent smokers like me, there is the added disadvantage that shops selling cigarettes are not really a dime a dozen. Far from it, actually. And for Kolkattans in general, or at least those of us who love street-side food, the sad fact is that there aren’t any small shacks selling finger-lickin’ food (at affordable prices) lining the Pune roads; what can be found instead are large restaurants and other such eateries that do serve good food but cost way too much.

‘To sum it up’, as I said in the Group Discussion where I barely spoke, the city of Pune isn’t really a dream destination by any stretch of the imagination. I had to visit because I had work to attend to. I wouldn’t advise anyone else to drop in unless he/she absolutely has to. I’m back home now and I really don’t want to go back there.

(Or, maybe I will. If I manage to gain admission into a particular institute situated

atop a hill. If I do gain admission there, perhaps the pleasurable company of a particular member of the opposite sex will outweigh the displeasure of living in Pune in the first place.)

p.s. For people who do not know who it is that I talk about above, please keep your noses (and your guess-work) out of my personal business. I am a rather insignificant person, and surely you have better things to do. Thank you.

She made a memory..

I met a girl on the train from Pune to Kolkata. Wearing a simple red sari and a black blouse, she was selling guavas from a wicker basket and had sat down on the edge of the seat adjacent to mine for a moment’s rest. We got to talking after I bought the last two of her guavas. She said she was from Chhattisgarh. She also said that she bought her fruits at six in the morning and caught the eight o’ clock train, before which she cooked food for her elder brother (who worked in the fields as a landless labourer) and her mother (who was often ill, but could not get treated because of the lack of funds). Mansi, as this girl was called, often didn’t get time to have breakfast and ate a meagre lunch at mid-day (consisting of dry rotis and a nondescript curry) when she got down at a station to change trains. Mansi sold different fruits depending on the season and she said that cucumbers were the most profitable during the parched summer months. She sometimes got pulled up by the TTEs for traveling ticket-less and in such situations, she was forced to part with all her earnings just in order to avoid being disallowed from continuing her trade. When she finished her daily routine at seven in the evening, she went home and prepared food for all three family members. (Her father didn’t live with them anymore.)

Mansi is just 19. She had studied till class ten in a Hindi-medium school, after which her father went his separate way and she was compelled to start working. She has no holidays, she watches no movies, she has no time to socialize with friends. She has already had malaria and typhoid, and yet her indomitable spirit has lived on to tell her tale. When I asked her what it was that kept her going day-in and day-out despite such odds, she said that it was the thought of going back home and having at least one home-made meal every day.

Mansi’s sun-burnt face had a simple, rustic charm and a withdrawn beauty and I sincerely hope that poverty doesn’t force my newfound friend into deeds beneath her dignity, as happens to so many such poor village girls. I tried to give her a hundred rupee note, but only after I concocted a story about Friendship Day being a few days away (and that the money was a gift from one friend to another), did she reluctantly accept it. I also wanted to click a picture of her but she was too shy to let me.

When she got off the train at Raipur, Mansi bid me a safe journey, saying that I was a very nice person and that it felt nice to be able to share her story. I wished her all the very best in life and hoped that we would meet again someday, only she would be far better off and not be hawking fruits on a train then.

p.s. All the conversation took place in Hindi, and I think I’ve got everything more or less right. And Mansi, if you (or anyone else who knows you) ever read(s) this composition of words, you should know that I really, really wish you the happiest of lives…

Got 95.33 percentile overall in XAT. Didn't merit a call from XLRI. Don't think will do so from XIMB either. So, XAT's prospects are pretty much over.

Perhaps all shops that stock women's inner wear should employ saleswomen to assist their clientele. I was at this shop yesterday, hunting for a pair of formal trousers, when this woman walked in. The battle going on inside her was evident from her secretive glances at the ladies items' counter and the man seated behind it. It took her quite a lot of time to come up with the item that she was looking for, and I could see the hesitation (and perhaps unwillingness) with which she gave the man her sizes. Unfortunately, this shop that I'm talking about didn't encompass a lot of floor-space and I could hear every word that passed between the poor woman and the salesman from where I had been standing (at the gents' counter, browsing through five-odd pairs of trousers, trying to pick one). I didn't really want to hear the rest of the woman's pained conversation until the transaction was completed, and I therefore left, but I must say I did notice the expression on her face. Pity was the emotion that I felt for her, and I sincerely hope that she doesn't have to go through such an experience ever again.

22.. And counting...

Had a wonderful day. And I mean, really wonderful. A big "thank you" to everyone who made the 12th of January, 2010, such a memorable day. This blog post is dedicated to all you people.. Anchal, for being the first to wish me on the phone.. Polo, Deepsova, Debashree (my sincerest apologies if I've got the spellings wrong), Malvika, Rini, Sudeshna and Aritree for throwing caution to the winds and wasting precious money by calling me up at STD rates! Rachna di, for the really unexpected SMS (I hadn't expected you to remember).. Anchal and Jhhata, for one of the most delicious cakes I've ever had a slice of.. Dipendra and Nilanjana, for the two wonderful cards (and NOT for the other gift!!).. Sumit and Ritankar, for the sexy wallet.. (Black is such an alluring colour!) Mayank, for the very stylish t-shirt, even though I generally would rather wear something less flashy.. And, to another person, for making the end of my birthday a really memorable one.. Thank you all. Thank you so much...