Monsoons of Calcutta...

Jokhon nirobe dure, darao eshe

Jekhane path benkeche…

Tomay chhute chaowar muhurtora

Ke jaane ki abeshe disha haara

Ke jaane ki abeshe disha haara…

The most cherished of my memories lie in the monsoons of Calcutta…

It was the 2 monsoons of Presidency that changed my life… forever…

This post is a symbol for all who feel a part of their lives shall always remain frozen in the fabric of space and time and without which life feels a touch incomplete… and there is a need to visit that part every now and then to make us almost whole again… the innocence of want, the naivety of hope and the imagination of youth…

And the music that takes us back there…

The song above makes me want to connect with ‘me’ again all those years back… makes me want to touch that fabric again… find peace in that which is behind the curtain of all these years…

Monsoons of Calcutta… the intoxicating smell of rain against the half-baked brick and mortar of old houses… that have stories of so many monsoons to tell… the lazy expectation of youth unabated by the dullness of the rainy day… the birth of innumerable romantics with the incidence of the first drop on a cloudy day…

It all began with my first introduction to ‘that feeling’... the ability of human imagination to render a person completely useless… the lazy evenings… listening to bangla music on those FM channels… songs from the heart for the heart… soft and delicate music interspersed with loud and thumping music all towards the same cause… against the pleasant damp environment with the pitter patter of the drops on the soft rustling leaves… bringing such pleasure and pain all at once…

Those were the lost days… ‘Reality’ didn’t matter… a lazy beautiful dark desire-filled world… and the subconscious unrelenting imagination creating an emotion ridden lonely lovely world… painted with shades of grey with the sparks of orange…

In between the evenings often lay glorious times spent with the crowd… singing… listening… taking elaborate walks round the dimly lit campus… thinking…

Thinking… life suddenly opened out in front of my eyes… it was beautiful… the sudden expansion of the horizon… the natural high of the ‘suddenly’ conscious… the ability to see from back to beyond…

I was a changed man… I was finally ‘me’…

By the time the second monsoon could arrive, life was moving… Having found the ability to see clearly meant the hurt was a billion times worse… but all that was now past… life had moved on… I had moved on… there materialized new found interest, beauty and above all Hope…

Empowered with the wisdom of the previous monsoon, I was sure… sure of going for broke… nothing else mattered anyway… Of course this time the monsoon was also accompanied by Floyd… the dark room now had a second master… Rising and falling emotions to the undulating notes, ‘comfortably numb’, sure as hell, made me ‘feel’ everything that was there to be sensed…

Along with that came numerous exchanges… sitting by the terrace… the dark sky only lit up by the excited flashes of lightning, and the sound of torrential rainfall lost in a voice… the voice that could be sweeter than the mood and more musical than the music…

As evening became night, and night became day, I realized ‘us’…

So that’s the story of the 2 monsoons of my life… One that helped find ‘me’, and the other that helped to found ‘us’…

Sitting here looking into the Mumbai night… almost as damp… I am missing the enticing intoxicating smell, missing my ‘home’, my terrace and cherishing the Calcutta Monsoon… and life…

Raat Hamari to...

Ratiya… Khari Khari

Ratiya… Andhiyari

Raat Hamari to chand ki saheli he

Kitne dino ke baad…

Listening to this song brought back so many fresh memories of a distant past… cycling around the dark woods of IIT-K trying to figure out my place… thinking of the one person with a stone in my heart… Bliss

The hurt made me feel alive… the darkness gave me freedom… I was finally one with my surroundings…

Cycling back from the M-Club at 3 am after an extended musical intercourse… pleasure… music in my heart… in my soul… often cycling with my eyes closed and hands behind my back testing my limits… it didn’t matter… I was living in the present…

Thinking about possibilities… thinking about responsibility… the adrenalin rush from thinking about possibilities… the hurt from being constrained… the pleasure of remembering her face… clarity in confusion…

Being selfish… being me… me and the woods… down the winding road… realizing solitude… finding solace in the deep dark woods… riding a little further than the light could carry… Being an Egoist… Being an Individual… the only time when one does not need patronizing… freedom in solitude…

A natural high… speeding down the road… turning blind… the adrenalin rush… the urge to stay out longer… the urge to be free… not to be tied down by those 4 walls built as a barrier against freedom…

The suicides… ability to contort reality in a way that makes even life lose its value… the torture… the insecurity… the fear… the inability to achieve value in one’s own eyes…

The realization… the happiness… the feeling of being alive… the rush… the breaking of the trance… the pleasure of knowing… the Ego…

Guilt… the weight… the failure… the thought of betrayal… the face…

The comfort… the tears… the tears brushing against the wound… the music… being alive

The end of the journey… Losing myself once more to the world… But the knowledge of being alive…

Shallow-Headed Nostalgia

Jakhon porbe na mor payer chinnho ei baate

Aami baibo na, mor kheya tori ei ghaate…

Chukiye debo becha kena, mitiye debo go,

Mitiye debo lena dena, bondho hobe aana gona ei haate…

Tokhon aamay nai bam one rakhle

Tarar pane cheye cheye, nai ba aamay dakle…

 

Listening to ‘Sakhi Bhabana kahare Bole’ and ‘jakhon porbe na mor payer chinnho’ on youtube, on a lazy Saturday, has brought upon what was termed ‘shallow-headed nostalgia’ by a favourite senior from College many years ago…

Amidst the complete lack of meaning in our haphazard ‘khichudi’ (mixture) of our day-to-day life, it is often so comforting to find solace in what has been… when you start counting all the memories of your life, ‘life’ seems so beautiful and fulfilling…

This post is about a few people and a few memories, which have touched my life, but I am no longer in touch with… They are just reduced to images in the abyss of my mind… Sometimes, it feels, that people who are only etched in your memory remain as they were, untainted by the present… the relationship you had with them remains as a beautiful memory, and are not blemished by day-to-day mundane experiences…

First, I shall go back to my singing school. In the fall, of 1992, my mother conspired with my grandfather to ‘deposit’ me in Gitabitan, a vocal training school concerned solely with the works of Rabindranath Tagore, after a snide comment towards a Bollywood movie that had escaped my mouth that confirmed their long-term suspicions of me going astray… I was all of 8 years old !?!

What it meant was, me missing the entire Disney hour, which came on TV on Sunday mornings, including my favourite ‘potli-baba’… Well, like most other under-privileged children, I did not have any say in the matter… ‘Rekha’ from Bollywood, had screwed my life…

I, of course often have a quite laugh, when I remember, that in 2001, 2 days before my Std. XI examinations, I had departed on extra singing lessons for the final degree examination, much to my mother’s disgust. Yes, indeed 10 years had passed since that first day, and close to 500 episodes of Disney hour, had been missed, but what I took back from there changed my life…

When I first went to Gitabitan at the age of 8, I was not pleased. Having spent almost 4 years in a quite-privileged-spic-n-span English speaking school, this dull, old building, with people, from diverse and not-so-privileged socio-economic backgrounds, greeted me with a feeling that I didn’t belong there. It however, passed soon after… Me being the youngest in the class, and immensely talkative, had brought upon sisterly affection from most of a class that was skewed in the favour of girls in a ratio of 80-20…

Thus, with this set of doting sisters, I realized about openness, acceptance and friendship… One of these people, and I mean only 1 had started with me in ’93 and had continued till 2001.  She happened to be my closest friend then… She had a remarkable voice, and had topped 8 out of 9 singing exams… I had spoken to her once since, then, and I just learnt by way of internet, that she’s married and in New Jersey…

 

I was in school, and took to the violin. A year after I had joined in 1992, this frail old meek kinda guy from another section, who weighed slightly less than a single leg-of-mine, joined… Much to our disgust, this guy also topped academics, from the other section, and was prodigious with the violin… 9 years later, he had successfully become the youngest graduate from Royal School of Music, London. He, however gave up his music and decided to follow medicine. Amongst the closest of my friends, and remarkably sensitive and wise, he has vanished from the radar… Hopefully, we will get a chance to catch up some day…

 

Next, I shall write about a person, I am in touch with but cant share the same relation any more. This sardar guy was my neighbor. He was 6 years younger to me, and treated me like his guru. I still remember, my mother’s horrific glance, when this puny little sardar (age-7 then), was carrying my 2 kilo backpack up a flight of 3 stairs, a week after his appendix operation… I shifted house, and although now we do talk, he has grown up and some things never stay the same…

 

And as such, there will always be so many numerous people who touch our lives, make us feel special and disappear… I guess that’s the beauty of life… Amongst the numerous different lives, that we live everyday, there are always these people… who we will remember someday, and maybe, meet again…

 

The song above is a delicate exposition of how we are survived by the memories we induce in others…

 

 

TOM YUM YUM

Tom Yum Soup

Multani Seekh, Mushroom crispy fried, Prawn Golden Fried, Paneer Tikka

Fried Rice, Schezwan Fish, Sweet n Sour Chicken

 

Well, if you are wondering the reason for this heart-warming stomach moaning exercise, let me tell you, this WAS my First Day At Work!!! Yes I do believe in miracles J

Oh I forgot… Papri Chat for Evening Snacks, and unlimited cups of whichever beverage you prefer!!!

My day at work was happening… I now know why the top brass in the company are all BONGS :D

 

The Day of Course began with the Mundane HR… Obviously late, and packed with a pile of really sad begone trees that once were, that had all sorts of Lawful n Unlawful jargon that reminded me of the Great Black ‘Gania’… One of the erstwhile tree actually had ‘Non-Compete’ Printed on it…

But was I ever wrong about ‘morning shows the day’ idiom… never understood them anyway…

Next came my boss… er bosses, bosses-ess… I actually lost track… I was dutifully handed over a Intelligence Dossier that came from the other people working in the ‘let no tree live’ campaign… It was as if some FAFF Consult had actually managed to explain GOD’s 10 Commandments of ‘Why Indian Roads are Indian Roads’… My department... ‘Roads’… This divine prank was played with my sense of direction in mind I presume…

THEN CAME LUNCH…

My Boss’ promotion that was announced today, due to the sheer luck that I brought with me… hence the Menu Card as above…

REST…

Finally, I was ushered into a corner, and explained what we do… that is fell some more trees, ‘money also needs to be printed doesn’t it’…

So after all the ‘Anti-Green’ Discussion we called it a day… and I came home happily J

p.s. I also found only 1 guy fitting the PSU Image ;) … though the work hours are 10 – 5:30  J

 Also the company pays for 3/4^th of the Canteen Bill…  and 1000 buck mobile bill…

I loved my first day at work… 

“Happiness only Real when Shared…”

The last truth uncovered by Chris/ Alexander Super-tramp on his ultimate tryst with life… the Great Alaskan Adventure.

‘Into the Wild’ is a movie that would appeal to most Romantics. A world without attachments is a free world. It leads us to the final and only question “Is peace of mind, happiness???” Is a complete carefree existence with no strings attached the key to happiness???

I know all of us would readily answer in the negative to the above question, however if we delve slightly deeper into the issue the answer starts seeming more and more non-trivial and often indeed impossible to justify.

Imagine a world… a world without sadness, a world without responsibilities, a world without pain, without insecurities, without careers, a world that has music, one that has knowledge, one without TV and other connections to the real world… a world that just is your mind and the knowledge of the ‘greats’ to guide it… a world without ‘time’ … A truly ‘timeless’ existence…

Often seems the perfect existence doesn’t it???  Do we ever wonder how the units of time have evolved over the centuries… Even in the comparable 20^th century it would take a month to travel across the globe, now only a half a day… a letter took 7 days at the minimum, now there is e-mail… a trunk call needed to be booked a day in advance, now a rickshaw puller has a mobile… Knowledge lay in books which was required to be found, now only a click… The units of measurable time by events are getting smaller and smaller… Expectations increase… does it not worry you if you cannot get through to the ones you love through cell phone??? What is the time frame before you start getting scared… about accidents, about bombs about all the evils your mind can feed you…  Have you never wanted to throw away your cell phone and just shut yourself in a room devoid of google talk, devoid of email, just for yourself…

Do we ever see ourselves as we are… for the ‘I’ that is us… Devoid of the ‘strings’ that are holding up the ‘I’ from all sides lest it fall like a circus tent… Will the ‘I’ ever be strong enough to stand on its own??? Can we ever really know???

Do we ever get to the ‘Self-Actualization’ after satisfying all our other lower needs… Honestly almost all other needs have been degraded to ‘Physiological’ needs by the fast pace of our lives, and yet we have no time for anything else… Can we even allocate 15 mins to ourselves… and ‘I’ mean ‘ourselves’ in a day without wondering about the ‘strings’ in our lives…

Can we ever be free is the next question??? That’s the only question the movie really tries to answer… The truth ‘Yes’ and ‘No’… You can be free if you want, till you realize everything about the ‘strings’ was more beautiful that this ‘freedom’… yes you learnt the truths of life that you would never have learnt otherwise, but only to lead you to a greater attachment… that of the realization that having attachments and strings are the only way to be happy…

What makes us happy??? “that one face in the dark”, that one piece of soundtrack that makes you remember her, the fact that your grandfather recovered from a serious disease, that your father got promoted, that your mother was praised for her remarkable cooking, that your sister found the right guy, that your friends waited for you, that there are people who care, there are strong strings to hold you up like that circus tent…

This is life… Before taking these attachments for granted we should once go through a ‘free’ phase with just the ‘I’ before it leads us to the inevitable truth, “HAPPINESS IS ONLY REAL WHEN SHARED”…

DRON (A).. GROAN!!!

 Well the first review of a film on my blog… hold on to your seats…

 

The film is about an ‘asur’/demon searching for his elixir of immortality. Trust me if you walk into the movie and actually walk out you can consider yourself not far from being immortal… and that’s the biggest...rather only takeaway from the 2 hr and 45 minute saga of misplaced creativity and plagiarism that ever appeared on the big screen.

 

Well the movies that I was reminded of while watching Drona is?  

1) Harry Potter

2) Lord of the Rings

3) Indiana Jones and the last crusade

4) Da Vinci Code

5) Ajooba

6) Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

7) The Mummy

8) All of the above.

Well the answer most definitely is option 8. Believe me this movie would make a killing in the villages and all those places yet to witness Hollywood, cuz the special effects were quite near awesome (copies) of things we have already seen… But at Rs 330 a ticket I am sure all who graced the hall (not many) have already seen these a gazzilion times before.

 

Let me try and do a budget analysis of the movie. Well lets see… Let me try and imagine what must have run through Goldie Behl’s mind while imagining the movie. Well of course one thing that is common to all the movies mentioned above is the Special Effects. So obviously I put aside 99% of all the funds that I have in cheap thrills. The next 1% I distribute as follows: 0.5% to hire only 4 actors. The rest were either English beggars or the unemployed I-Bank expressionless (not much different from beggars today) picked up from the English roadside. 0.3% in Costumes. 0.2% in creating the most awful musical score in the history of demon kind… and hey wait with my daddy’s given pocket money let me hire a script writer and story teller.

 

So you know what I saw… some very colourful trash.

 

Let me now try and relive all the brilliance all that was so non-subtly copied in the film.

 

Harry Potter: He lived in the closet under the stairs… obviously Drona has to live in the loft. Harry was an orphan … shit Drona thought he was an orphan till he met his mother at the ripe age of 29. Harry wasn’t loved… how could Drona possibly be??? The truth is it is one thing to imagine a 11 year old harry learning about his powers and another thing to see a bearded abhishek bachan (male 29) playing around with his new found strength. Hey wait there is but one last copy… Harry was always protected by squibs and neighbours… Well here we had the English beggar club.

 

Lord of the Rings: Well the sword-wielding dead kings on horses were there obviously. The hood and non-visible black face were copied to perfection.

 

Indi Jones: Take the name of the Lord and step forward was what Indi had to do in the last crusade. The leap of faith. Well Drona had to have faith didn’t he???

 

Da-Vinci Code: The treasure hunt but obviously. And also the secret society of beggars and their horrifying dance rituals.

 

Ajooba: abhishek.” Hey dad played a superhero. I wanna I wanna… boo hoo…. Fund this movie… sob” and also the sword stuck in the stone.

 

Chitty Chitty bang bang: Now here’s a difficult connection. Although no direct copies… the colourful structures and creation of fantasy in the middle of nowhere and also the puppets belonging to the Devil.

 

The Mummy: Well can we forget the face in the sand. If producers of Mummy had a copyright for that they would have made more money by now than from the film. Hey don’t forget the bracelet worn by the little kid. And obviously in India our kids are always atleast 25 year olds.

 

Now you would be thinking. WOW!!! The money of one ticket and memories of 7 of the most favourite few movies… Yeah well if you look at it that way. Trust me in moviemaking the sum of the whole is almost always way less than the sum of its parts.

 

Certain puzzling things:

1)      Why did Abhishek Bachan have to wear a skull cap and warm jacket even after reaching his homeland in the desert at 45 degree C.

2)      Also did they think he was looking cool wearing that in a Fort that reminds us of our glorious past?

3)      Why did they have to shoot half the movie in England? Were the beggar actors cheaper there?

4)      Why in the 21^st century did they have to speak Hindi in a manner that takes 3 minutes for them to utter and 10 for the audience to understand. Am dead sure the audience below 12 did not understand a word of the Urdu cum polished Hindi.

5)      Why was the movie so long and the pace so slow. If it was half its length atleast the audience would have been able to resist the slow poisoning.

6)      Why did everyone have to add a ‘saa’ to the end of Royalty’s names? Eg: Adi-saa. Maharani-saa. Su-saa-id.

7)      Finally who the hell names people the way these people did. Their names were from the 18^th century. Gap clothes from the 21^st. Hindi from the prehistoric and the entire experience… completely pathetic.

 

 

Lastly : India has grown up and enforced the Smoking Ban. Now the censor board must realize and enable the Musical Ban. The worst music you can hear at the worst places you would expect… seems to be the motto of the music directors and film directors alike. Maybe they should try a model wherein they play it all at the beginning or all at the end. That way atleast we need not feel like su-saa-id every minute of reel-time.

 

For me the only saving grace was the cartoon sketches of the mythical past. We should hire the cartoonist and make India’s first good animation movie.

Broodings of a Different kind...

STATUTORY WARNING: The following lines might be harmful for the soft hearted...

 Of the irresistible urge to write… just to express… couldn’t take the brooding inside… that’s the feeling I am getting after having watched the first 29 minutes of ‘Rock on’…

  The aspiration, the desire, the inner passion and finally all gone to Waste… the story of most of our lives… the fleeting feeling to just break free… to chase all that seems impossible… and nothing to worry… the imagination of youth and the gradual unbearable silence of age…

 

We can say it’s just the economy… The GDP is proportionately linked to the expression of inner imagination… no worries to be able to maintain a creative life without starving… no need to put away all that might have mattered in the name of success… the story of all those 100 thousands of strangers created out of their own isolation of themselves… The question is why???

 

To counter the GDP blame all most can say in their utter monotony as if quoting a textbook is, “ you need the passion the frustration the fear of starvation to achieve”… too hoots to this ridiculous excuse… just a cowardly way of saying I couldn’t dare…

 

Why then why??? I guess its society… the enormous ability to chain all that could ever be free… to poison all aesthetic beauty in the name of success… to get back to that desk feeling why if there’s one life, must it be wasted with such a tremendous urge to protect all sense of guilt… to bury all trace of guilt from one’s system… guilt of never having the courage to hold one’s head up high…

 

Why then such embarrassing contradictions… to punish all who might have held their head high… and praise that insolence of building an ever more tailored society that will slowly pass into oblivion like all before us…

 

It always ends with the bitterness that is generated at the end of every Ayn Rand’s novel… the impossible urge to break the shackles, the overpowering strength of the lame societal living… the final subduing of all that was original, all that was free and independent and then the guilt…

 

I am an escapist… even now I am incapable of blaming myself for who I am… I do not know who I would have been… I do not know why I am like I am… I would rather blame the damn GDP for the woes of our creatives…  

 

To all who can associate with this ridiculous expression of inner guilt… we are mostly at peace… but for the remaining few moments, just remember and dream… and pass on that dream to others and support them who have the courage and who feel the pain of guilt much more than the pleasure of hollow praise…