Meandering

It’s difficult to adjust to changes. No matter how minor. If your everyday is suddenly curtailed- you do feel a bit helpless and a bit lost. But we forget that human life is quite similar to the course of a river. The moment we face an obstacle we start meandering. With every meander we are pained and in a way enriched. Then with some muscle pain we move along the path. Gradually the muscle pain gives way to flexibility. If we have to reach a goal we do. No matter how many meanders we create. It’s simple. We embark without any clue of a destination. Now destiny does play a significant role in fixing our destination. Maybe that’s why the similarity of nomenclature! So whatever changes there are, I’m ready to embrace them with an open heart and open arms. You can only make me stronger and surer of my journey. Life is much loved journey...that I'd never give up!

Being Human

-What exactly are you saying? You are dating a woman? I mean you are married for God sake.

> It’s perfectly natural. She too did not know she could fall for a woman.

-I really don’t wanna talk about it. You are 35. Mother of a 6 year old daughter.

>And these are statistics that I know better than anyone.

This is a fictitious conversation.  And all who raise their eyebrows please read on from here. And those who think the above conversation is between an independent individual and an uninformed poor soul- you may choose to quit. Or read on if my narrative excites you.

I am an Indian woman living in the city of joy- Kolkata. I am moderately educated. And I do earn my living. And the very next question your mind would ask is “Is she a lesbian?” My answer to that is- No, I’m not. The next question that might come to your mind is “Is she a godforsaken social activist?” My answer again is a no. Now you are definitely confused about my stand point. Many of you are also concluding- This surely is a publicity stunt to make this post popular. Well, who does not want to make their posts popular, when Google Adsense is generous enough to make us earn from our blogs! 

Yes I definitely want a lot of eyes on my blog post. But that is not the only agenda. I write this because I represent a very weird class of the society. The class who is confused and totally traumatized about a lot of things. In fact you can even say I’m moon-struck. Err, Lunatic for the less poetic ones. From the core of my heart I believe Homo sapiens do not have the much heralded thing called Orientation.

Hey, wait. This is not a scholastic article one orientation and human psyche. Wohoo! No! No! I’m a complete moron when it comes to theories. I am just here to tell you what my mind tells me. And I totally trust my not so sound mind. Ok, so getting back to what I was saying. Human beings possess a particular gift that the whole animal kingdom lacks. No prizes for guessing the answer. Yes, it is the power to think. Long time back when I dared to study Masters in English we read a Latin phrase by Descartes. It said- Dubito Ergo Cogito Ergo Sum. So, just before you quit this page and blame me of euphemism, I’ll explain the phrase. It literally translates to- I doubt therefore I think therefore I am.  The whole purpose of quoting Mr. Descartes here is to make me feel a bit less afraid of my ignorance.

So, now that I have a strong theory to back me, I can safely conclude that Human beings exist because they think. And by the natural virtue of thinking they detach themselves of mere organic or hormonal preferences. Their preferences rise above the organic need and become a bit more cerebral. Like the chose to cook the edibles instead of consuming them raw. They chose to farm and till instead of preying. They clothed their body instead of being beautifully naked. Each time it was a choice of the cerebra and not the instinct. And thus they became a different part of the creation. They chose their own nature- therefore “defying nature’s law”- is a null and void statement for human beings.

If we are ok with nuclear weapons, cannibalism, rape, child abuse and many other choices that defy animal kingdoms’ laid down rules- Why are we so averse to one choice, the only choice that makes a human humane-i.e., love. We choose our partners out of love. Never really out of rules. So if that college girl’s heart goes out to the lady who is busy attending her kids- it’s natural. If that guy drools over his neighbor six pack-it’s delicious. And hey, that girl is as much a woman as you- ho snuggles in the bosom of your husband each night. And that guy is as much a man as you who just watched an amazing Manchester united match!

Come on  people; be proud of your cerebra. We are blessed by cognition. Why fake our own existence? By putting meaningless tags of hetero, homo, bi and even ‘try’ for some (naughty me!)! Love like there’s no tomorrow. Al you need is a whole lot of love and a dash of libido. The latter by the way is no less important. Wink-wink.

Cheers to being human- Now let’s behave like one!

And the possessive me

 A very rational mind. Practical by all means. Time-tested. Jealousy, possessiveness.  Well , well, I’d never be a part of them. Or so I wanted to believe. And then happened the weirdness.

Red road. Lined by thick trees. Cars zooming past like some tech savvy monster. I walk along the pavement, my hands entwined in yours. My eyes meeting you occasionally. You are smiling at me. Pausing at every step where the sky looks molten gold. A canvas across the universe- something the posh Kolkata crowd, headed towards its usual business, is totally unaware of. The casual entwining becomes intense. Your finger converses with mine. Our eyes in unison look up. It’s a candy floss twilight. Bathing Kolkata- the enigma! Shadows melted into one. Kolkata, Red road, surreal sky, the silent trees, bristling breeze- all waited to engulf us. 

Suddenly you took a detour. Forsaking my fingers you stared at a tree. You were spell bound. She was drooping over you. Caressing you with its brilliant warmth. Soon Kolkata, I, and the sky became nothing but an extended shadow of that superlative tree. Something stung me from within. I wanted to be that tree. I wanted to stoop on you. And Kiss the Kolkata dust- making you proud. My hair got ruffled by a mocking wind. I turned to see the sun had just plunged into the horizon. 

Dark, cozy, eerie. You came back. I was not looking at you. My attempts of covering myself in Kolkata’s bosom were failing each time. I was scared. For the first time even my city could not soothe my void. You placed your hand on my shoulder and told me- you breathe Kolkata through me. You saw how I became that tree. Some illogical emotion trickled down my eyes. It’s sunset in Kolkata. My city…that just taught me to be fiercely possessive and yet feel so liberated. It’s time to stroll back. This time fingers did not entwine- because Kolkata decided to entwine our souls.

A Realization-in the southern fringe!

Kolkata. City of Joy. My City. Birth Place. Enigma. So on and so forth. Thousands of people, some children of the soil, some visitors, some writers, some aspirants- have time and again written about this city. I feel baffled. One city has innumerable tags. One place has innumerable food for thought. It has it's divergent charm. It creeps inside and magnifies. Words fall short. I don't understand when I'd be able to write her out in words befitting.

The moment I think- this is it. I've described her in the best possible phrases, apt idioms and precise metaphors- I am proved severely wrong. I am dismissed and put in the rejected box. My possessiveness grows. I want to pen the best for her. I want to express her most intently. Complacently I wait for words to take their course.

One late summer evening I was proved wrong. I had to bite the dust and realise how little I knew about my city. Kolkata is NOT about Howrah Bridge, Kumortuly, Victoria Memorial, Durga Puja, Rossogolla, Phuchka, Biriyani, Trams, Hand-pulled Rickshaws, College street, Park Street and Metro Rail (and many such signatures). Yes they make her come alive. But Kolkata lives in much micro sect. Much smaller details.
She lives on in the extremity of its area, in the diversification of its regions, in the congestion and commotion that fill her bosom.

Being a hard core Northerner (North Kolkata Resident), I had a snobbery of my own. I live in Baghbazar. A place historically famous and definitely oldest in the map of Kolkata. My love for this city was never polarised to North- but I definitely formed the lion's share of my love from the part I dwelled in. South Kolkata has always been a ceremonious visit for me- An invitation, pandal hopping or maybe a dinnering out with family and friends!

Then magic happened.

I took a detour to the southern fringes- without any purpose. My only aim was to soak in some more of my city. Understand the connotation of the word MY. I was taken aback. The quiet, serpentine evening walked like sleuth behind me as I walked along the nooks and corners of Southern Avenue. With the drooping Krishna Chura and a solitary Amaltash...I suddenly stopped. Looked at my city and breathed. Herself is hidden in ignominy. The bold and beautiful is celebrated. The gorgeous and magnanimous is recognised. And in all the greatness she has withdrawn to the fallen half crescents of an untimely bloom of Amaltash, the sudden rain drenched pathways of Richie Road, the open air metro ride to Kudghat, or maybe in the kohl lined eyes of that girl who stands and stares at the shimmering lights melting into a dark Kolkata sky.

There's a myth that Kolkata breathes. If you put your ears on the roads you'll hear her. If you hug her shabby lamp posts you actually feel they hug you back- and trust me you don't have to be drunk on the cheap Olypub pegs- you'd anyway absorb it. Because she is in the molecules that fly, in the garbage corner where foul smell makes you feel appalled, in the gust of cold breeze when your mind is empty. She is emotion personified. Growing in you as you grow. Paining in you as you down your lovelorn peg in Dharmatolla, Living in you as you struggle to reach an interview battling the incorrigible traffic; Singing with you as you buy your first Beatles from Park Street; Kissing with you as you hide in Dhakuria Lake; Quiet with you as you enter Bishop Lefroy Road and shiver in the inexplicable joy of witnessing Satyajit Ray's Living Abode; Magnify your warmth as you sing "Purano Shei Diner Katha" and wonder how Rabindranath envelopes your life from your school days to your bespectacled reunions. Sheltering you as you snuggle in your bed in a rain drenched night and cry your heart out without any reason. She is the sunshine that will take you in her lap gain..as the solitary night breaks into a very Kolkata morning. You hate her because you don't know how to match her love. You love her because you are enslaved by her heart. She is you. You are her.

South, North, extended, suburb- she spreads across your being, silhouetting you- making your footfall a little more determined- even if you choose to part ways with her.

Guinea shona roder Boishakhi Din

Aj pNochishe boishakh....eksho tippanno holo tomar...Utshob onushthane rom rom korchhe Kolkata. Tomar Shohor...tomar prem...tomar biswash..

Tumi thik kothaye Jorrasanko, Rabindra Sadan, Parar Park, Ojana kono shobha griho...gojie otha club na...tup tap jhore pora radhachuraye..?

Khoj korte gie bhul bhanglo aj. Shantiniketan ba Kolkata te na...ishkul college er utshobeo na. Tumi achho na...nirobe na...mohashomarohe amar jeebone...amar protiti ichchhe choritarthe...amar protiti oshocheton bhule...ar khub shocheton thik e...amar table jora byartho lekhar bheere..amar mobile memo te hothat lekha kobitaye. Chhondo potone..ontyomile...tumi tumi tumi...amon otikaye...amon prokando...atoi khudro abar atoi nogonyo. Amar ontorotomo..amar shokol rosher dhara...amar aalto bhorer porosh..amar adhek ghumer swopno..tumii toh...

Ki boli tomay? Kii ba di upohar?

Shudhu nijekei dilam aj...shmorone...chorone...monone...shubho jonmodin..praan purush..poromatmiyo...

Bhalo theko...Bhalo rekho...

My School Bus

A glimpse of that car. Matador- A van that has multiple sitting arrangements. Took me back to the days when I was blue and white for 8 hours of the day. Except waking up in the morning and class test- life was one helluva fun!

School bus- is such an overwhelming impact in my life. I revisited all the crazy moments as I saw an old tattered “matador van” parked aside the central avenue. My school bus resembled this one. It was a very curious looking van. Ours’ was a beige coloured matador. And what intrigued me most were the two sky-windows at the ceiling of the car. Pieces of sky travelled with me as I took a joy ride to school every day. At 7.15 am sharp the blowing of two hooting horn announced that my school bus has come to pick me up! Mostly I used to be in a very messy condition. The ‘school tie’ dangling untied round my neck, the pair of socks in my hand, the black ballerina school shoe barely cladding my feet, the very heavy school bag(my world) placed like Atlas’ globe on my shoulder – and then the run towards the bus- almost a daily routine. This led to a very recurrent dream- I am unable to wear my shoes and the school bus is leaving without me. That made me so insecure. The fact that I would not be able to reach my Alma Mater made me very jittery. Though there were thousand other means to reach my school if I missed my bus, yet it was a very weird feeling- it almost scared me to think I missed my bus. It felt quite like missing out on something intrinsic.

Now see what happened to me - One glimpse and I am time travelling backward. I can see the blue & white uniform clad- rugged me, smiling back at this adulterated version. She is running to catch her school bus- she is waving at me as the sky windows shower her with beaming sunlight. She is disappearing into a green haze-as the door shuts. There she vanishes…amid the roaring engine and cheerful voices- that no longer consider me to be a part of them.

INCONSISTENT BY DEFAULT

Inconsistency is my Muse. I have travelled a considerable path in my life. I am no longer a teenager. Not a “just out of teen”. I am in my late twenties. I have realized that I have a lot of love in my being. But I cannot channelize it in the conventional way. I can’t always make it a point to whisper a sweet nothing in my beloved’s ears. I forget to mention how beautiful the dear one looked last evening. But I notice.  Absorb with all my might. So much so that I lose out on words. When I gaze at the mountains, I meditate. I forget to tell those majestic being – how breathtaking they are! I trek my way up a winding river- I am so engrossed that I forget to scribble my thanks in its bed. I intend to do it all. But I don’t. In not doing what I should lays my incompleteness. Then again I sit and wonder how important is verbal acknowledgement. An active expression of receipt.  “Dear I read your blog”. And a bright smile spreads across the expectant face. Recognition is always fulfilling. When I work on my words and I share with someone tugged to my heart- I expect a smile, a spark, a little appreciation, or just a nod. Therefore the same applies to others who expect that from me.  But I falter. I don’t always find myself being time-proper. Anyway it’s too late to mend my ways. And who said that I was born to do the right things? Exorcism of Swagata Basu?  A near impossibility. I’d be as incorrigible as I am. Perhaps the only corrigendum ever issued on me would be in an unwritten epitaph or a never published obituary!

Amar Suman

Omortwer protyasha nei jaar

Shei kontho amar ghum kaare bar bar

Hath bulie gaaner prolep daye

Koto Klanti bohul shondhya belaye

Tomake Chai abar amay chhnule…

Chatujje na kabir ..ta jai bhule!

Dhormo bolte manush bojhe… Pagol

Daye khule daye jhorer mukhe aagol

Jhumur baaje ontorikkho jure…

Bnashuriya bajaye onto:pure…

Ekla knadi jokhon okaron… 

Gaanola ke  di-i shnope praan mon

Suman mane suman tumi now…

Suman mane amar tumi how…!

E tumi kamon tumi?..Jante cheye honye holam

Tomar oi gaan aadorer…nityo ami notun golam!

Tomar oi kathar jaale jorie ami borte gelam…

Hey amar suman tomay Janai amar agun selaam!