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...

" 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..