The Tramp

On social media

2012-01-01T11:52:00.002+05:30

I rarely write these days. This is the age of "re-sharing". We consume and we share what we like or what we would like people to think we like. We are constantly at work trying to project an online personality, sometimes more than one. Because, after all, we are different things to different people. Or we would like to be. Opinions on an issue need to be formed fast, lest we are considered ignorant, or worst, insensitive. And hence, opinions are borrowed. They are hashed together from various sources of ready-made opinions, checked for consistency with our accepted online personality and - shared, promptly. And then in battles online we sometimes begin to understand the opinion we so vehemently defend. Sometimes. But there is not always time, for we have not just one battle to fight, not just one issue to be seen possessing an opinion on. In this fast-paced system of factory like opinion construction there is no time for looking inside. The conveyor belt keeps carrying opinions to us. No time to think quietly. Always shifting, always full of sensitivity. This is the age of conforming non-conformists fed on the homogeneous goo of constructed opinions.

So, people create less and less. And consume more and more. We have a group of people who produce content at lightning speed and voracious consumers. And social media is the connect. What does that mean? That means the death of the blogs as we knew it. When was the last time you published a post and did not "share" the link on your social network? There was a time when we posted the link on Facebook in the hope of widening our readership beyond the regulars. But now the dependence has grown to an extent where unless you post a link to your post on every social network you are on you are not sure anyone will know. The truth is no one checks blogs for new posts any more. The quality of discussion on blog posts has suffered with most comments being reduced to mere roll call responses at best, that too not on the blog, but on Facebook. So, even though the number of "visitors" may have increased, the good old readers are gone.

Unable to stand the tyranny of Facebook and the enthusiasm of its users, I have stopped using it. But they will not let me delete my profile. All I can do is "disable" it. Apparently it is done because Facebook is worried that I may in a fit of childishness delete my profile only to want it back when I realise the magnitude of the mistake I have made. So, it helpfully gives me the option to join back whenever I want and they are sure I will. They store all my data, connections, and all I have to do to join back is sign in. You heard me right. That is all I need to do. The same Facebook that makes me go through at least 3 stages of detailed questionnaire trying to dissuade me when I am trying to "disable" my account does not so much as wink when I join back. So disabling my account is essentially like logging out of Facebook. Facebook does not even allow me to export my contact details saying that the contacts are owned by the respective owners. That does not sound quite right, now, does it? The contact, by way of access/privacy control (such as adding/accepting me as a friend, or putting me in a group where her/his email, phone number, etc is visible to me) has given me the implicit permission to use the detail for contacting her/him. Even if we were to assume that Facebook genuinely believes this protects the privacy of its users, it has no qualms importing contact lists from our email service providers (Gmail, Yahoo,etc) to add to its database. Remember when you had allowed Facebook to see which of your Gmail contacts are already using Facebook? (You probably don't but that is because it was so long ago. Three internet years!) Now, when you were doing that Facebook did solemnly swear that it does not save your Gmail password, which it doesn't. What it does however is save that contact list imported from Gmail on its servers forever. It uses that to "suggest" you "people you may know". Double standards? Kind of reminds me of that line in Hotel California that goes:

"You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave (legendary guitar solo...)"

Coming back to Life

2011-09-28T08:56:00.002+05:30

Reaching Calcutta on on the 30th. Can not wait. I have made a list of places that I must go to. Anyone who knows me knows that by places I mean places to eat. What can I say?

Had a reasonably good Mahalaya in our house in Madras with friends and food and Birendrokrishno Bhodro. Missed the visits to the ghat. Missed Rommo, Daniel, Subhayu, Teko, Tautaar, Shonai. Missed the early morning bus ride to Rashbehari, a subsequent bus ride to Esplanade row, the walk, the photographs, the thousands of people, beggars, sadhus, Decker's lane, Kumortuli, Esplanade, kochuri, cha. I know I have said this quite a few times on this blog, but really, 'What novelty is worth the sweet monotony where everything is known, and loved because it's known?'

That, plus, Calcutta is just awesome. As awesome as Barney Stinson, or Sheldon Cooper. Or both of them put together. They have their issues, but really, how can you not like awesomeness?

Google Plus Invite

2011-08-12T23:01:00.003+05:30

Here is the invite link for anyone who would like to join Google Plus:

https://plus.google.com/_/notifications/ngemlink?path=%2F%3Fgpinv%3Dlpe0YLgq5W0%3Agl5j5rJCqDI

I won't say it's better than Facebook- that is obvious. It's better than Twitter.

Madras Mail: Part 4

2011-06-09T17:42:00.001+05:30

It is easy to forget things, especially when your life depends on it. Calcutta, my Calcutta, you are such a fair city.

None of my friends were given a lot of pocket money in college. But I remember we had a great life. Rarely ever was there an occasion where we felt constrained by money. I mean, yes, we had to think about money. But for God's sake we hung out at Park Street it was perfectly possible to spend an entire day there without spending a hundred bucks. When we did save up, we went to respectable places and had gourmet meals and believe me those were not very infrequent occasions either. We rarely ever took cabs, unless we were in a group, or had a screaming mother/ father at the other end of a phone call. And yet somehow we seemed to stay out late all the time. I returned home at one in the night every once in a while and it would be fast walks followed by shared autos, or buses. I would not have to pay a lot because it was late. The auto driver did not think of hiking the fare just because he could. Even if he did it would be 5 rupee instead of 3 kind of an affair. And oh, the number of options! If you wanted Chinese food, you could go to Chini's where you would be stuffed for 25 rupees. You could go to Tibetan delight if you were in the mood for spending a bit more. If it's a larger group you could go to Tangra- even there you can choose from expensive to backyard restaurants. Still more money? Well, Barbecue, Tung Fong? Still more money? Mainland China. Just look at the options! And the best part - all of them are delicious. Every one of them.

Had I grown up in some other city I would have said- in Calcutta there is something for everyone. But I didn't. In Calcutta I can be all the ''everyone''s. I can share a table with strangers while I hog pan fried mystery-meat momos in the afternoon and go on a fancy date to a fine dining place at night. Why will I be expected to visit a certain kind of a place because I earn a certain amount of money?

Realisations in IT

2011-05-30T11:24:00.003+05:30

The Indian software services sector is a wonderland. Everyone bullshits everyone. Your job is to make it look like you have enough work for you to be drawing a salary. You are paid to justify that you should be paid. And how do you justify that you should be paid? By preparing elaborate slide shows and spreadsheets. It is one giant work of fiction in Power Point and Excel.

No one talks about efficient code. Even you wouldn't if your effort were to be measured by the Lines of Code. Just imagine. The more Lines of Code, the better. If you spend five minutes working on something, you put two hours in the tracking software, no kidding. If you spend two hours copying code from various pre-existing programs (which had been copied from other programs - you see forty years of Mainframe does give you a sizable chunk of obsolete code) you put your effort as forty. Yes forty hours. Of course, at regular intervals you need to send out mails to various people about various things and demand they give you a solution by EOD (End of Day). If you are at the receiving end of such a mail, do not panic. A solution is usually a mail or any other form of engagement. Never mind if your solution is shoddy, just send it back. Or, better still, say that your solution depends on solutions/feedback from other teams and shoot out threatening mails to them CCing it to your sender demanding that the said team sends you back whatever it is that you hope it is going to send you back by - you guessed it - EOD. No body wants you to wade through the marsh of code and come up with an actual solution. You are discouraged to. You see, the idea is to keep the facade of work going on but never really solving the main problem.

No one but the really desperate should join (and continue in) the IT industry. Because getting out is hard and time consuming. Sometimes it is the only way to go - in the beginning. Small product companies are rarely in the mood to take up or train young engineers. But if you love programming, or life in general, know this from now. You must get out.

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Rangiye diye jao jao, jao go ebar jabar age...

2011-04-24T21:41:00.003+05:30

Picture Source: South Asia Times.

Talkin' bout a Revolution

2011-04-22T14:05:00.001+05:30

Let this be the end of CPM. Of the most cold blooded organized plundering in the history of India. The Socialist Revolution ended the day they came to power. What began was nothing short of a slow transfusion of poison that continues to this day.

They must go. Thankfully, they will. Nothing, nothing can be worse than this. No madness, no chaos, no amount of lack of organization can come close to the planned assault of the educated bhodrolok.

Crimson Chakra- Adyar: Eating well in Madras:

2011-03-13T15:48:00.005+05:30

If you are trying to decide whether Crimson Chakra is where you should go for your quiet dinner for two or a boisterous dinner with friends/ colleagues, this post is for you. And I will make it simple for you. Don't go to Crimson Chakra unless, of course, you love pretentious food places or you hate the people you are going out to dine with (and this is your only chance of getting back at them.)

If you understand anything about food, you are unlikely to go back to the place. I had read somewhere that their table d'hôte sucks. It's true. I was continuously reminded of the opening lines of Annie Hall where Woody Allen talks about two women conversing in a restaurant:

"Boy, the food at this place is really terrible." The other one says, "Yeah, I know; and such small portions."

Well that pretty much sums up Crimson Chakra's table d'hôte menu. Armed with this knowledge I decided to give the fixed menu a miss and order from their a la carte menu. The menu is a spectacle of sorts with the first half full of bizarre tamil names and english explanations that made each item sound more suspicious than the previous. I jumped to the second half which proclaimed itself to be the continental menu. I ordered a roasted duck in orange sauce secretly hoping that it would turn out to be better than what the others had ordered (the fixed menu). In the end however, it was difficult to tell which was worse. The duck was doused in a very, very sweet sauce. The vegetables were not blanched properly. And the fixed menu, let's not talk about that. The food is atrociously expensive. The fixed menu which has a soup, a kebab quarter plate (4 chicken, 2 mutton, 2 prawns, a quartered tomato, some bean sprouts), appams/rotis, a choice of identical tasting chicken/mutton or fish curries, curd rice (!) and a scoop of vanilla the size of a 3 rupee Calcutta rosogolla costs 650 rupee plus taxes.

The décor of the place is nice. The ambience is nice too. If you must go you can try the desserts. The menu is clearly made by people who have a limited knowledge of food. But that is not why the place fails. It fails because it seems to be run by people who don't have a genuine love for food and for feeding people. You cannot make a good restaurant by just hiring the best chefs and the best interior decorators. You need love, no matter how cliché that may sound to you.

The Tramp's Message to Humanity

2011-02-05T22:08:00.003+05:30

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People, here is my message to humanity, yes it's the one the world has been waiting for, so listen carefully -

'Stop buying bread. Toil and save up and buy an oven. Also sell that microwave oven while you can. Then go and make your own bread. It is easy (you need flour, water and yeast, that's all) and so heavenly you will never be able to wipe your arse with white bread again. Start with not eating bread until you make your own. You will never regret it.'

Now go forth and do as I say (and do).

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Madras Mail: Part 3

2011-02-03T11:15:00.001+05:30

Ok, Mainframes are a pain. We had our training in LISP and suddenly COBOL happened. It specially irks me because I know there are so many beautiful languages out there that people are doing amazing things with and here I am stuck with a bunch of ugly languages. And I have not even started talking about people who have known nothing but this all their lives and believe their dabbling with COBOL is what is keeping the Universe from collapsing on them. They want to avoid that, especially because at least in their minds, they are at the centre of it and it would not be pretty.

What enthrals me is the work going on right now on the web. I look at the stuff and wish I could in some way be a part of it. Well, I am a part of it, we all are. But you know, in a more active way, by creating things that are beautiful. There is something I am working on. I wish I had more time and space to pursue it - but I am still at it and hope I will be able to talk about it soon. I travel for about an hour in an office bus to and from work and I have been doing a lot of thinking on usability- in general and in connection with my project.

I have lot of ideas that I do not yet have the skills to implement. I have learnt a lot and am taking it in stages. One of my problems, if you call it a problem, is that I feel very very happy when I learn something new- however small it may be. In fact, I get so overwhelmed by it that I take some time to cherish the moment. I do that. I stroll around. Day dream about it and how I am going to in all probability change the world with it. I am too much of a romantic to go on doing things in a matter of fact way. This means I take longer to finish the same things than I ought to have. But there is nothing I can do about that, I guess.

Which brings me back to the work I am doing. Here I am expected to just get things done and get them done fast. Because my client does not like to pay for my day dreaming. Fair enough. That also means I feel uncomfortable working here. I don't like most of the work. They are unchallenging to my intellect and challenging to my well-being in general. I have done better work. And I have done quite some work before I joined this company.

I won't be here waiting around for a miracle. Frankly, I find this entire industry a sham.

We shall overcome

2011-01-17T10:33:00.001+05:30

There is no bigger crime than mediocrity. Wait, but there's hope.

Someday. It won't be long. I promise.

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Back in Calcutta

2010-12-19T12:13:00.004+05:30

So I am in Calcutta. I arrived in a Taxi quietly as my city slept in the early hours of the morning yesterday. Quite a few things have changed since I left for Madras half a year back. My parents have moved out of the house I have grown up in and they have put up in a rented house on the bypass nearer to Garia. They are making a new house and they want to stay closer to the plot of land so it's easier to look after the work.

This house is rather nice and quite in the lap of nature. There are birds right out of the window that one only reads about in Jibananada's poetry. The mornings smell different from the afternoons, or the evenings. It's colder too. It's quiet. Though it gets tiring after a point. Thankfully, I can take a metro straight to the centre of the city when I want.

There are a lot of walks planned out. Lot of places to eat at. Lot of friends to meet. Calcutta is so much more beautiful than other cities that it hurts. It is cleaner. (yes! Yes! YES! Stop looking like that!) It is better. It is just so full of things that really matter. And you know what? I am glad that the medieval communists fucked up and did not let this city turn into an IT hub.

I mean, seriously. IT is bullshit. Anyone who works in IT knows it. People in Calcutta have far better things to do than set up hideously huge offices in glass and steel that all look like each other and work on god-knows-what. Most people in IT are half-dead. People who are not remotely interested in technology (and no, just having an Android or an iPhone does not make you technically inclined). I have met so many people in my company who carry an Android but don't know anything about it. My friends who have studied history know more about technology than they can dream of doing. I am very happy that Calcutta is not a tech-hub or a commercial capital. Even if it means staying away from Calcutta for me. For the time being, at the least.

People in Calcutta are nicer. They get angry. They get moved by things they see. They comment on things even (and especially when) they know that nothing will come out of it. They invest their faculty on so many things that won't ever give them any returns. They do things for the sake of doing things, knowing that it won't matter - that nothing really matters in the end. For example, no one in Calcutta has asked me why I take photographs. Specially if I am not selling them. No one here tells me I should try to sell my photos just so I don't end up pursuing something 'pointlessly'. Apparently, if you are good (or even mediocre) at something, you should try to make money out of it. Well. I am not saying it is bad. But why would the act of interest in itself be enough? Why will it be imperative to, why, almost unimaginable not to attach every interest with some goal?

Anyway. I want to meet everyone. Please meet me.

.

7E

2010-12-16T07:06:00.001+05:30

There will, of course, be parties. But this is the end of an era.

Here's to Shattolah. To the best times of our lives. To bawra mann, nishitho rater badol dhara. To Pola. To the definite refuge, the mother of all havens in times when everything seemed screwed. To an apartment that couldn't have been more aptly named.

Here is to Laddu and 7E.

Madras Mail: Part 2

2010-09-12T22:46:00.003+05:30

I have never felt this scattered in my life. In the past six months I have lived in three corners of the country, changed five beds (and sometimes with no bed at all), basically living out of a suitcase. Madras has been more difficult than I apprehended. I have tried not to react, jump to conclusions, but it is a difficult city to live and set up a house in if you have no one you know. The common people, and by common people I mean shop keepers, auto drivers, bus conductors, pedestrians, co- passengers, the teeming hundreds you see around you are quite hostile to anyone who is not a local. The hostility is not very evident in the beginning. Over time you will start noticing it. Initially I had mistaken it to be the general nature of the language. People came across as rude even when they were not. But now I have realised that they generally have very little patience with anyone who does not understand their tongue - to an extent that they may not even want or care for your business. There is, of course, another class of people - the cooler English speaking, goatee/French-cut bearing upper class who you will find quite rarely unless you happen to move in those circles. However, there is somehow a scarily large chunk of people who are completely bereft of manners or general niceness, who are frankly uncivilised and scornful in away that shows a deep contempt for everyone who is somewhat better off.

2010-09-08T01:05:00.001+05:30

In the middle of the COBOL lines in fluorescent green for some reason I remembered the walk down Southern Avenue. My heart stopped. I could not breathe for a few seconds. I am a bad friend But I miss you all. All the time.

By the way, for those of you who have never seen a Mainframe (very very old computers, lets say, in layman terms) here is how a screen may look like:

Sorry Bob

2010-08-31T23:54:00.001+05:30

Your workplace inspires you. It does and you know it. This is about a boy and the shirts he wears to office.

'How many times must a man wear a shirt
And pretend that it just doesn't stink?
The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowing in the wind.'

I said sorry.

.

Eating well in Madras: Bin Laden Burger: Pupil at Besant Nagar beach

2010-07-25T17:49:00.000+05:30

There are times you just want to gorge without caring much for fineries or refinements. Next time this happens and you happen to be in Madras just take an auto to Besant Nagar Beach. (If you are coming from Thiruvanmiyur, just get a bus right up to Adyar bus stand. Then take another bus or auto to Besant Nagar.)

Ask someone where Pupil is. Anyone will show you. Otherwise ask where Arun's ice cream shop is. Pupil is just a couple of shops away from Arun's Ice Cream Parlour. It is round a corner where there are a lot of good food shops along with a Dhaba, a cafeteria, and a continental restaurant. They run the shop from a small kitchen with chairs and tables laid out outside. A typical restaurant by the sea with food that includes burgers, sandwiches, salads, momos, soups, french fries, etc.

View Larger Map

What they are famous for is the George Bin Laden Burger. It is a huge burger which comes with a choice of two meat patties cushioned between three layers of sesame laced white-bread and a choice of sauce. Here are your options:

Patty:

You can take two patties of either beef or chicken. (as in both beef or both chicken or one beef one chicken, although I would very strongly recommend the beef patty. Let me rephrase that. I will shoot you if I find you ordering the chicken patty.)

Sauce:

You can choose between a mayonnaise or a barbecue sauce. The mayo sauce is a personal favourite.

Plus there will be pickled vegetables and cheese between the patty and the bread and some french fry on the side. Be warned. Don't be too happy about the free french fry. It is quite meagre in quantity. But I bet you won't notice because you, dear reader/drooler will be busy finding ways to take a bite out of this HUGE burger while making sure you don't drop the yummy mayo sauce on your shirt.

The George Bin Laden Burger costs 106 rupees (roughly 2 dollars).

I will try to put in some photos of the burger sometime. I also plan to write about one of the finest chicken roasts I have eaten from a shop a stones throw away from Pupil. I will also tell you about the Continental Restaurant by the same owner (as Pupil) that is rumoured to sell a better version of the Bin Laden burger and also very good steaks and sizzlers. Next week may be.

Madras Mail

2010-07-18T12:21:00.007+05:30

I have been living in Madras for the past two weeks now. The city reminds me of Calcutta in more ways than one. The colonial architecture. The narrow bus routes that run through bustling bazars. The humid sloth in the air. The prolific public transport system with plenty of buses, share-autos, trains, etc.

But I am yet to find a city as forgiving as my Calcutta. Madras sees you fall and laughs. Then when he sees you are hurt he will probably help you get up. Probably. He is ruthless and retort-ful. Yes. Madras is a man. A caring man at best.

The sea is never far from you in Madras. Which is a wonderful thing. I had never imagined I would live by the sea. Now that I do I cannot believe my luck. I have seen the sea on a bright sunny day. On a rainy evening. In pitch darkness. The sea soothes. It takes away all your troubles for a while. Then returns it to you just as you are about to leave. 'Excuse me sir. I think these would be your troubles. Sorry'.

Office has been generally good. I have a good project and a small team of five people. My office is the most forgiving of the things in Madras in fact. Don't believe what people say. TCS is a good company to work for.

Madras has fantastic food. What was all the rumour I heard of food cooked in coconut oil and curry leaves in everything they make? I have had everything from stir fried rabbit to chilly beef to brilliant chicken roasts! Madras is the first place where I find beef is almost as mainstream as chicken. I was walking along a stretch of Perangudi that day and it is lined with small fast food shops that had stuff like beef chowmein, beef fried rice, chilly beef sharing the same board as chicken fried rice, chowmein.

My hunt for a 1 or 2 BHK house continues. I had almost started living in a 2 BHK but I vacated it only yesterday when I realised that there were a couple of serious flaws that could not be ignored specially considering the amount of money I was paying for it. Finding accommodation in Madras is a pain, I tell you. And brokers are very dangerous creatures to handle. I am so tired of them. And of looking for houses. Please find me a nice house :(

It rains in Gujarat

2010-06-07T07:22:00.002+05:30

Was woken up five in the morning by the roomie. It was raining heavily. Thunder and all. Stood by the window looking out wondering if I should go down and do a rain dance. This was the first rain of the season.

It is completely dark here till six in these parts of the country. The raindrops glittered in the streetlight. Pearls of joy. Suddenly I saw a Sagar the great Ipte running out in the rain - still sleepy and groggy and jumping around, splashing water. I ran downstairs. Into the rain. So we jumped together. Such fun. The red soil formed red-soil coloured puddles all around. The wind was cold and I was shivering. Came upstairs.

Took a warm bath. Made myself some Earl Grey from the pack Dibyo had given me. Sipped tea as I sat by the window looking at the pouring rain. Called the Poo who was only too happy to be woken up by such news of merriment. Thankfully I had, before my ritualistic rain dance, managed to click a picture that I will so graciously post for your viewing pleasure.

You will notice that it does look quite a bit like the rain in Calcutta, doesn't it? Now if that is not a coincidence, I don't know what is. The Obvious is but a perfectly good Coincidence taken for granted.

So there goes my monday morning blues. Out of the window. What better way to start a week?

Oh and I found this post from earlier on in life.

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Blues is a Woman

2010-05-11T08:00:00.000+05:30

Music, my love I miss you. For me there is no feeling greater than making music. Nothing gives me more adrenalin rush than playing on stage. The music pulsating through your nerves, your blood through your band's collective body. You play. You listen. You learn to feel musical signals. You learn to be spontaneous. To give in. Today, in this land so far away from my music, and people I made music with, it is easy to forget those moments of ecstasy. But it comes back to you at times. And it overwhelms you to tears.

I miss my piano. I hallucinate about playing it in the middle of a boring session. Or at night when I'm half asleep. I miss Subhayu, Soumyadeep da, Andy da, Shreya di, and Shinjan da. I miss you Nevermind. I miss the Blues.

Random Acts of Madness

2010-04-30T08:09:00.003+05:30

What would happen if I had not bunked a Mechanical Workshop class one afternoon on a whim and gone on a limb to a desolate mall along the bypass with a guy I had just got to know? Cool chap. Crazy about music. I was terribly depressed about something I cannot recall clearly. He was heartbroken about something else. Bothered by what seemed to be grave matters at that time we set out aimlessly.

A pointless impulsive act of randomness changes your life more than the the really important stuff. Most of the things that really makes me who I am today are not things I planned or decided to do. Strangely what matters in the end are things I never really actively decided. Many of the plans I had about life did work out. But I cannot think of one decision that involved a lot of thought and planning that brought half the memories as the impulsive ones did. None of the things in life that I would guard with my life are things I thought would be of any consequence when I came across them first. Because I was busy looking at things that matter. I was worried about my own designs on life.

I might be worried about a lot of things right now but I know that none of the things I am worried about will actually cause me trouble. May be there will be no trouble at all. Even if there is any, they will be because of things I have not taken into account. I love the way life works. I totally do.

Madness matters. More than method, in fact.

[To the techies, do let me know what you feel about the cardinality of the class relationship?]

I see You, You see me: The Magic Numbers

2010-04-13T22:27:00.001+05:30

I have made my peace with this place. It is fine. I have met some people who are nice. I have my group. I won't think about you. You who can crawl to Chayer Dokan after a day at work. You. And You. I love the food here. I love how there are no mosquitoes here. How I have wide footpaths. Pruned shrubs all along the way and archways of more pruned shrubs to change lanes while walking. I love the Tangri Kebab at Punjab King. It is a two minute walk away from the ATM which is a two minutes walk from my room. Asma I don't think of you any more. I don't think of you Spider Man, you who are dusty from hanging on to a pole in front of a dying New Empire and a flourishing KFC. I only read the Calcutta pages on The Telegraph and TOI everyday. I know you are alright. With every passing day I hear rumours that grow dense with despair. It becomes increasingly clear that I won't be returning soon. Anyway. Not that it matters. Not that I would let it.

At night I close my eyes and I am walking on Park Street. How are you?

Reporting from Ahmedabad Part-1

2010-03-27T18:15:00.001+05:30

You take a flight to a manicured infocity and start liking the comforts of clean air, plenty of greenery, embarrassingly wide footpath- not a hawker to block your way, or make you offers of questionable thingummies. Your office is a leisurely three minutes' walk away. You can stay in your room and watch a Bergman or listen to music or read on Reader and there's no mother to keep bugging you to go to sleep in time.

But there are little things that suddenly catch you unawares. An otherwise boring HR video that has a shot of the Governor House or the Victoria Memorial chokes you in the middle of a session. The city sounds when someone from the city calls you make you loath the soothing calm of a planned town. Sometimes when the poo will walk down from Chandni towards Park Circus along the main road while talking to me on the phone I can tell how far she's reached from the sounds on the road.

'Don't cross the road now. Please wait for your turn. Abhi rasta paar na karein kripya pratiksha karein....'

And I know she is at the Park Street crossing. You know what that feels like, don't you?

I am not saying I don't like this place. The people are blunt and it's impossible to have conversations with them. Everyday when I come back home from office I feel a strange emptiness inside me. I think of how hard I have been trying to talk to people. I genuinely try to like them. But I cannot. They have not heard of The Beatles and they don't know who Norah Jones is. They listen to 'soft romantic numbers' and their past time is 'watching or playing cricket and watching tv and orkuting'. They think Indian Classical is boring. The other day someone walked into my room while I was watching Summer With Monika. He stared at the screen for sometime and said don't you have some better movies? Non black and white? What do I say? I paused the movie and made polite conversations with him, apologizing for my clearly inadequate collection of movies.

All the people here are tech-retards. They know less about the internet or technology than any humanities people I know. They do not know what a browser is (well, many of them) or what a URL is for that matter. They can't differentiate between the internet and an intranet and have never heard about phishing or keyloggers.

They are shocked to see that I know how to differentiate a single-breasted suit from a double breasted or that I use keyboard shortcuts for most things. I regularly hear taunts about how I must have prepared for almost every subject being taught here ahead and how lame that is. I smile awkwardly, not knowing how to react. I guess there are better engineers than these. It's just that I am stuck for two months with the lamest of the bunch. I know things will be somewhat different once I am out of the ILP. At least I won't have to stay with them 24x7.

And that will be the end of my rant for now.

Farewell Post

2010-03-19T08:11:00.000+05:30

There are too many people I wanted to meet before I leave. Too many things I wanted to say. But with the maddening running around I had to do to get the documents and provisions together (to be packed in a bag) I had very little time to. Then I thought I would write a mail each to people who matter, and there are quite a few, to tell them that they will be missed when I am gone. But I run out of words. I woke up unusually early today. About 6.30 in the morning. Could not sleep longer. I sat down at the piano. And I found what I was looking for - Robi Thakur. While I was playing I remembered this one poem:

"Jaha kichhu boli aaji shob britha hoi
Mon bole matha nari- e noi e noi :)
Je kothaye hridoy amar poripurnotomo
She kotha phote na keno e binaye momo
She shudhu bhoriya uthi osrur abege
Hridoy akash ghire ghono ghor meghe"

I realised there's one song that's been sung so long and so much that would say all that there is to say. And here it is.

PS: I am leaving tomorrow, Saturday morning. Will reach Ahmedabad in roughly two and a half hours.

All my bags are packed.

2010-03-16T01:48:00.001+05:30

How do you go away? From a city that made you? From the halogen lit streets you walked in the rain? From the songs you sung together so many times that you exactly know where who will sing what? And how? You know where Poulami will break into that harmony. You know where Bimbabati will start nodding her head with a smile and say Ooof! What do you do when you have your own anthems? Where you can tell what song is up next even before Laddu keeps down his glass of Old Monk and picks up his beloved guitar. Where every evening is like a million other. The same songs, the same people, the same Shaat Tollah, the same city lights that send out the same strange transmissions to the grey Calcutta skies and the city sounds far away.

"What novelty is worth that sweet monotony where everything is known and loved because it is known?"

I have attended so many farewell parties. Sung the same songs of togetherness and parting. Come home, shed a tear or two. I remember the day Subhayu left. I cried when I came home. Then suddenly this evening I am seated in the same room, singing the same songs when it all comes back to me and I realise that this time, it is me the songs are for. It's my farewell day.

How do you hold back your tears when Daniel starts playing Leaving on a jet plane? What do you do?

My parents never tire of reminding me time and again that I could have done much better- that I spent my college years doing very little that was 'fruitful'. But today I have come to a point in my life where I can say that I regret not one thing I did in these 5 years. I have lived everyday. I have lived like I have never lived. I have loved. I have made memories. I can remember more days from these past 5 years than I can from the rest of my life.

People often talk about how the only true friends you make are in school - in your childhood. But somehow I met the best people of my life after school. They have molded me in so many ways that it is difficult to tell how I would have been like had it not been for them. I love you all. For your madness and the sanity you bring to my life. And that includes the chayer dokan people, Dhruva, Kaichu and last but not the least Anuj.

And then there is the Poo. I love her. There is no one like her. She is an exceptional woman. She is incredible. I learn from her everyday. It is not often that I will say it on a blog but let me say this tonight - I love you.

Now when I look back at all that I feel terrible about leaving behind, I cannot but feel happy for how much I have lived. For how much I have loved. For how much I am loved. But then they will start playing that strain from Hazaron Khwahishen Aisi and it will fill the dark rooms of Shat Tollah and I will not feel like going anywhere anymore. But what do I do?

Learning to Die

2010-02-18T02:57:00.000+05:30

And suddenly at this hour, I find a girl who liked Bob Marley, and The Beatles, and Ritwik Ghatak. Who drew graffiti on FB and complained about her mother's midlife crisis. Suddenly death doesn't seem all that far away.

May be this is it. May be death is just a (missed) status update.

Facebook asks: 'What's on your mind?' You quip, 'Mind my arse! I just died. '

Her Facebook test said her life was 70% perfect.

And I hate people who will come up to say that such deaths happen everyday in India and terrorism is the least of our concerns.I am not terrified by terrorism. And I can't feel sad about everyone. I feel sad about things I connect to. I dislike people who try to dictate what I should feel bad about and what not.

Geek Google and Helvetica

2010-01-15T00:32:00.002+05:30

And such are the after effects of Helvetica. Had to get it out of my system.

[Click to see the original larger version (80 Kb)]

One score Ten

2010-01-02T19:10:00.002+05:30

A Happy New Year...

...to begin with in case my computer conks off before I can write anymore. Yes we all say we hate them. But we all know you will read through the list I am about to make now. So here is a list of the things that I have loved about 2009:

1. The winters. January and December. All of it was spent eating, cooking and meeting people. (The cooking and the eating concern food, not the people I met). There were some amazing walks, with a loved one, yes. And although we walk all the time anyway, there is something about Calcutta winters that make them unforgettable. Oh and somehow, I always associate Calcutta winters with the song Autumn in New York. 'It's good to be living again.'

2. I loved working. I met some good people and I learned some important lessons. Plus, I made some money which is not too bad either.

3. The loved one started staying on her own. So there was this entire excitement and tension of finding an apartment (or an establishment, if you like). Then putting an entire household together. The almirah, the curtain, the fan, the spatula, the doormat... you get the drift. Although I have always credited myself to be pretty aware of the requirements of a household I was quite shocked at just how much effort it takes to actually make it happen. It was a huge learning experience. And totally worth it in the end.

4. I cook better! Yes. I have never actually cooked in such quantities so many different kinds of food for so many people in my life. Knowing how to do it is one thing. But the execution is something else. So I learned some of that too. If there is one thing I have really done this year, it is cooking. And big thank you goes out to Panu, Alton Brown and Gordon Ramsay.

5. I love how neat and organized the loved one is! It is incredible. I am extremely happy at how well she manages everything. Frankly I don't think I could ever do it this well. I am happiest however about the fact that she has learned to cook really well and eats healthy homemade food as much as she can.

6. I am very glad I quit my job. Not only because I did what I felt was right, but because I got a lot of time to myself which I spent doing what I like doing.

7. I am happy about Google Wave and about how well Chrome has turned out. With the extensions (like add ons in Firefox) in the current Beta, I can safely say that it is the best browser around. I love it. Muahs to Google. Oh and if you are planning to make your own website/blog at any point please consider joining this campaign.

8. I read a lot more on web marketing, social media now and design and UI now. A lot more on food. I cannot imagine how I would read the number of websites/blogs I do without Google Reader. It is something I recommend to everyone.

9. I started reading books after a hiatus of about a half a year. I did read quite a few good books. I specially loved Sea of Poppies and Empires of the Indus: The Story of a River. The last one I will recommend to anyone interested in history and anthropology in general.

10. I got a Grand Effing Piano in my house and one that is from the 19th century. It's lovely.

11. The best find of the year was How I Met Your Mother and more precisely Barney Stinson. It is one series that I can safely call my Bible. It's legen-wait for it-dary.

What I could have done without:

1. Perennial fights with parents.

2. The hypocrisy at office over the article I had written but was intentionally credited to the boss's brother.

3. A friend who wasn't a friend, after all.

What I am looking forward to in 2010:

1. The Google Phone named Nexus One which is Android based. I heard this rumour today that it could be release as early as January 5th. At least an announcement on the part of Google is expected.

2. The Chrome OS which is visionary. It is not something that will change the world now. But it will redefine the concept of an operating system and set goals for everyone else to follow.

3. Working in TCS. I hope that will happen by March, touch wood.

4. I want to stay on my own even if I am in Calcutta. I need to.

5. A computer that just works. I want one.

Well, that's all. A happy new year to you all. Oh and luckily my computer survived long enough to bring this to you!

For you and I :)

2009-10-09T23:57:00.004+05:30

There was this girl I loved. Now believe me when I say this, folks, the girl was all nice and fine but she had no time to see me at all. So when I fell in love with this another girl next time (and for good) she said to me, don't worry pal. I will always write songs for you. And true to her word, she did. Every one of them.

Even now when I have to say the most difficult of things I go back to her songs. And since the earth has gone around the sun once since we fell in love, old girl, she wrote a song for us. Man I love her. :)

Here's what she wrote:
You and me and,
Me and you,
In my little room,
There's room enough for us to do,
The things we like to do.

Oops, I hit my elbow on the doorknob,
Its right there,
It's by the bed next to my head,
But I don't even care.

There's stars up on the wall,
And they all glow in the dark,
And we can hear the children playing,
Outside in the park.

There's bars on the window,
And if there were a fire,
We'd burn up for sure,
But that's just fine by me 'cause,
We would be together ever more.

In this little room,
In the big city we're so far,
From the people that we knew in,
My big ol' blue car.

But if we stick together,
Then I know we'll be ok,
'cause when it gets too cold outside,
This room is where we'll stay.

In other news I quit my job (the folks back at office passed off my writing as theirs and I said well what do you know I'm off) and am on a break. It is so wonderful to be meeting people and having all the time to yourself. Loving it while I wait for my joining at the next company. Date not confirmed yet. But it won't be very long.

The Poo treated me to a wonderful buffet and red wine at Sigree (Flame and Grill). The fresh river crabs were awesome. Hug. Not for you. You know who.

Edit: Here is some wood for you to touch. I missed this out totally.

Type in Bengali on any website: Google Transliteration Bookmarklet

2009-10-02T20:00:00.003+05:30

Ever wanted to type in Bangla on a blog comment or a website or a mail or a chat?

Well, Google Transliteration Bookmarklets is just what you were looking for.

Type just like you would to write the bangla word in English usually and see it turn into bangla. What's best, you don't need to install a software or download something ridiculously lousy that shows at start up everytime.

How does one use it?

Just drag and drop the text below to your bookmark toolbar (you can enable it by going to View>Toolbar>Bookmark Toolbar in Firefox or Ctrl+B in Chrome):

Type in Bangla

It will look like this:

Now when you want to type that comment in Bangla on a blogpost, or on that Gmail Chat window, just click on this bookmarklet on your bookmark toolbar and wait for a text that says:

Transliteration is enabled. Please click on a textbox to start using it.

You can now toggle between English and Bangla by using Ctrl+G. Oh and you can click on a word to see other word suggestions.

On that note a Happy Birthday to Google!

Pic: Insiya

আর সবাইকে বিজয়ার প্রীতি ও শুভেচ্ছা :)

2009-09-30T00:11:00.002+05:30

Sometimes, I guess there just aren't enough rocks.

I

2009-09-07T23:22:00.003+05:30

It is so much easier to say things that you would love yourself to say- things that sound good, sane, progressive. It took me many years to learn to say exactly what I feel, even if it makes me look like a narrow-minded, possessive bastard to myself. It took me a lot of time to accept myself for what I am.

Saying what I want to say is important specially when the person matters more than the image of my self I would love to have. S/he could hate you for saying it, but in case, just in case s/he doesn't, you will be saved the agony of keeping up a false pretense or the fear of crumbling under it. In the end, whether it works out or not, it's definitely worth it.

Her Majesty's Crops

2009-09-03T00:00:00.001+05:30

A mad woman just called me and made me log in to her farm and 'harvest her crops' for her. I harvested close to three acres of paddy and 2 acres of carrot at 12 in the night. Phew. I have bizarre friends :D

Azad Hind Dhaba

2009-09-02T23:30:00.002+05:30

I don't know about the others, but the Azad Hind Dhaba on Purnadas Road sells absolutely bad, dry, fibrous and tasteless chicken kebabs. The Biriyani too is very sad (if you have had good biriyani you can't help noticing the difference).

Plus, they payed me 100 rupee less than they were supposed to. I did not notice then, since I was in a hurry. My mistake I know. But bad food experience. I loved their mutton dopiaza at one point. Not sure about now.

Updates

2009-09-02T00:42:00.000+05:30

I just got out of an influenza attack. I got 5 whole days to think. Worked on a personal project which I hopefully will be in a position to talk about soon.

I have been studying typography and colors for some time. Found and read a wonderful book yesterday. It's called Thinking with Type by Ellen Lupton.

Locus

2009-08-26T23:29:00.005+05:30

So, I took a train home to Calcutta. A Duckback carry all. The rubber logo was partially peeled. *Duckback*, it said in yellow with an oval border running around it. A jute bag with cane handles. The writing in red had smeared on the off white grid of natural fibres. From years of use. That was the last I saw of them. For after I returned home I never heard of them again.

That night after everyone left, and it was time for us to go home, you had said you wouldn't mind a walk. Exactly a year. Like a maddeningly, unreally beautiful run in the rain. Underwears full of water. Shoes oozing mud. Lungs full of laughter.

It's like a strange dream. Set in the hapless and desolate context of thousand others that were shattered.

This post is in remembrance of many many people, places, especially: Dhruva. Dibyo. Donee. Dobandi. Dhakuria. and a couple of Dasguptas- one without hair, the other hates typography.

Transactions in Taste

2009-08-24T08:11:00.004+05:30

About a couple of months back I was approached by a graphic designer named Pinaki De for using one of the photos I had taken more than a year back at my mashi's house in Chittaranjan for a book cover. (I was making Ilish Machher Kolapaturi and had run to fetch my camera and take a photo of the grand affair.)

The book will be coming out by the end of this month and I will be getting one of the copies. Here are some of the details:

Title: Transactions in Taste
Publisher: Routledge India.
Subtitle: The Collaborative Lives of Everyday Bengali Food
Author’s Name: Manpreet K. Janeja

Description
"This book asks how and why food is pivotal to social relations and forms of identity that emerge as normal and not-normal. It does so by describing the production, consumption, distribution, and disposal of ‘normal Bengali food’ in middle-class households that employ cooks from poor classes, and in Bengali restaurants, in contemporary Calcutta (India) and Dhaka (Bangladesh). It thereby analyses the constant and fraught negotiations that feed into definitions of normality, the middle-classes vis-à-vis the poor, and Bengaliness, in the deeply intimate yet intensely public domain of food. Food transactions thus provide a window into shifting configurations of trust, power, and conflict integral to social relationships, shaped by events such as the 1943–44 Bengal famine, the 1947 partition of India, and the 1971 Bangladesh War. In a rare comparative foray into Bengali Hindu and Muslim food-ways on both sides of the border, the book includes addas (‘idle-talk’) and interviews with both men and women. It initiates a dialogue that links issues of agency, place, hospitality, and ownership with a new field that places food as an ‘artefact’ at the centre of its inquiry. It invites the reader throughout to approach food afresh, as the key that unlocks the complexities of what is mundane yet profound — the everyday. Food transactions have a centrality to any analysis of poverty, inequality, and hunger."

I have the cover design too but cannot publish it here because the book is not out yet. May be I will once it is. I am happy :)

Blogger Turns 10

2009-08-24T00:48:00.001+05:30

Happy Birthday Blogger! :) Thank you. And Hug.

How to: Bookmark Sync on Google Chrome in three steps

2009-08-23T09:43:00.002+05:30

One of the problems I regularly face is, suppose, I am working in office and I come across a website that I would want to bookmark for reading later, possibly when I get home.

The only way I can do this is either by copying the link and mailing it from my office mail to my Gmail or by using some kind of web based bookmarking site like Digg, Delicious, etc.

The problem is bookmarking something on Delicious, involves quite a number of steps and it becomes a huge problem for someone like me who reads voraciously on the net and has to bookmark more than 10 websites a day. I know Firefox has add ons for web based bookmarking but I have almost completely stopped using Firefox now with the release of the super fast (yes it's amazingly fast) Chrome Beta and like I said, even on chrome it involves more than three steps to bookmark just one site.

Now Google is testing a feature called Bookmark Sync that will solve this problem for people who use Chrome on multiple computers. In this new feature whenever you open Chrome (say at your office) you have to sign in to your Google account and it will copy all the things you bookmark. Now when you use Chrome on a different computer (say at home), and you login, it will automatically sync this browser with the one you used at office. And likewise whatever you bookmark at home will also appear on your office computer.

If you would like to try this feature out, here are the steps:

1. Make a copy of the User Data\Default directory (for example, copy it to 'Default Backup' in the same location). The location depends on your operating system:

Windows XP: \Documents and Settings\username\Local Settings\Application Data\Google\Chrome\User Data\Default
Windows Vista: \Users\username\AppData\Local\Google\Chrome\User Data\Default

2. Chrome has 3 versions at any point of time:

Stable Channel (a tried and tested version for the non adventurous)
Beta Channel (slightly more advanced version with some features that are under testing)
Dev channel (this version gets updates as and when new features are released even before they are tested. The feedback from these people help build a beta and eventually a stable release)

Download the channel changer.

Run it. You will see a dialogue like the one below:

Select 'Dev' and click on update.

This will download the Dev version and install it on your computer.

3. Now there is a Desktop shortcut for Chrome. Right?

Right click on it and click Properties.

You will see there is a field called Target. It will probably look more or less like this:

And the target contains the location of Chrome on your computer. Something like this:

C:\Users\Saptarshi\AppData\Local\Google\Chrome\Application\chrome.exe

What you have to do is add the following to the end of this text: --enable-sync

So that it will look like this:

C:\Users\Saptarshi\AppData\Local\Google\Chrome\Application\chrome.exe --enable-sync

Now Click on Apply and Ok.

You are ready to try the Bookmark Sync!

Next time you start Chrome and you open an empty tab, it will have a message asking you if you want to enable Bookmark Sync. Follow the instructions there to sign in to your Google Account and voila all your bookmarks will get copied to Google Docs. Something like this:

This is how your bookmarks will be arranged in your Google Docs. You can make folders of different categories and save your bookmarks and all of it sync with all the browsers you use.

If you love Google Chrome you will probably want to try it out now. If you are not willing to undertake all the hassle, just wait for a couple of months. This feature will be available in the Beta channel only.

The version I am using now is: 4.0.202.0

Change in Twitter Address

2009-08-20T09:17:00.002+05:30

For everyone who has been following on Twitter, specifically those who are following me at twitter.com/the_tramp please note that I have changed my twitter account. Please follow me at the following address:

http://twitter.com/hatfullofrain/

Rain Post

2009-08-09T01:52:00.002+05:30

aaj baishe shrabon.

And what did I do? Worked on a presentation all day. Got posters printed. Rehearsed. Went to a Bloggers' Meet and discussed Web Marketing and Monetizing Blogs, made a pitch for my company, had sandwiches and cold coffee and crawled back to my home, then watched a movie on a Socialist Germany.

It's raining outside and tomorrow is a Sunday and I have a party to organize.

I am afraid the I am becoming way too anglicized, moving way too far away from my roots. Not once in the day did I come across one person or thing that would have reminded me that today was 22she Shrabon. I live the entire day in a chilly bliss of 16 degrees and I cannot hear the rain. I cannot smell the wet soil because I am on the freaking 11th floor. The only time I know it is raining is if I accidentally look up from my computer monitor to look at the window far away and see the raindrops stun themselves on the glass.

It's silent now and I can hear the rain. I miss it. Sometimes. When I remember it, that is.

Why Gmail? What else?

2009-07-31T08:59:00.003+05:30

My office has banned the use of Gmail. We now need to use Thunderbird or equivalent to check office mails. The reasons they site are lame. Some of them being:

1) We do not want people to use personal mail in office.

Hello! Guess what the Alliance-Axis brawl is over and Hitler is all but dead! Ever heard of Google Apps? It is possible to use Gmail as your office mail interface for free! Equating Gmail and personal mail is pathetic.

2) Storing office information in the cloud is not safe. We trust our own servers better. It is in the room next to my cubicle. So it is safe.

Believing that a server is safe because you bought it and it is in the room next to you is as lame as my principal who used to believe keeping CDs out of their packets would get them virus. Just because the sever is right under your arse does not mean it is safe. It is connected to the internet and you really don't know more about internet security than Google does. All the bullshitting about how cloud computing can be dangerous and risky business... dude gimme a break. You, everyone of you, use Gmail everyday to store the most private of your information. There is no place on earth where your information is more safe than Google's servers. Even you know that. Aren't all our late night coochie-coos saved somewhere in Gmail's chat messages?

3) People will use Gchat. Even if you don't, others will. So we decided to ban it for everyone.

From the little I know about network administration, it is possible to block only Gchat without blocking Gmail. And when one or two people are flouting the rules you go talk to them about it. You don't stop everyone from doing it.

Gmail does not reduce productivity. The best and the most productive company in the world uses Gmail internally. Any guesses who? Google! So, why don't you just admit that even you are one of those red-tape tangled, gun toting software companies? Because that is exactly what you are starting to resemble, with every passing day.

Updates: More updates

2009-07-29T08:28:00.002+05:30

Does a job change your life? Nah.

But what does change your life is all the things you do to not change your life just because you have a job. You enjoy the breaks and you are so desperate to make the best of them that you almost always end up exhausted. Even when you decide, you've had enough and know better and decide to just sit at home reading a book or something, you feel terribly guilty and anxious- always wondering if this is the best you could have done with your free time. You try to keep in touch with everyone like you used to, trying to spend quality time with them- not just superficial howdys. But I swear man. It's tough.

Most of the time you feel guilty for not having given enough time to one person or the other or to yourself. I even feel guilty for not having played my piano enough in the past week! So what actually changes your life is trying to balance all aspects of your life.

I met Kaichu on Friday and it was very nice. Walked right across the city during which Kaichu fell, lost her earring and ripped her shoe.

So anyway, the last Saturday was a quite some fun. Went to Dalhousie Institute with Daniel and Subhayu and a couple of Daniel's friends. It was very nice and relaxing sitting under the open sky and talking nuts, eating-sipping (ahem). Came home in time too.

Sunday was good. Lots of cooking to do as some friends came over to the PoO's house. Mystery meat burger, yogurt dip, Crispy Limp Oil Dripping French (my foot) fries and lukewarm (for we are still missing a fridge :D ) orange mint juleb. Not bad at all considering we cooked it up in only about 2 hours for 9 people.

Yesterday night was very good too. A gloomy/lame office meeting culminated in something that resembled a German beer fest in more ways than one. I say resembled because there were also kebabs, baby corns, and liquids of dubious colors and questionable aftermaths. I realise my office has a lot of nice and fun people. I did not even know Sanket was treating us! I am still not certain if Sanket and R went home or not. The last time we saw them, they were still at it. No no. Beer I meant. Hmmm.

I'll leave for office now.

PS: My blog is increasingly starting to resemble Robinson Crusoe's. Thankfully I don't keep a count of my goats still. I guess, it's a long way still.

Bleh

2009-07-27T12:48:00.001+05:30

She gives him the hardened look.

He gives her the wet look.

Hair gel rocks.

Change your links/bookmarks please? :)

2009-07-17T23:30:00.000+05:30

Notice the changed address of this blog? Yes. More will be coming up with time. :)

Updates

2009-07-09T22:20:00.000+05:30

A lot has been happening in these past weeks and I am not sure this blog place is the right place to write about it. The Poo has been very busy balancing work and shifting house. Even when we thought we had planned for everything, little things seemed to go wrong at the most unexpected junctures and it was crazy. Thankfully, almost all of the moving has been done and the next few days will be easier. But all of it was good fun :)

Kaichu got a Google Mug for me from Amreeka and I have proudly gone and showed it every creature I met today. Oh and Google will be launching an OS. So I am super excited about that too. It is time, really.

Not much else to say. My mind isn't working right. Very scattered. Will catch some sleep.

Our Bluthy :)

2009-07-01T08:08:00.000+05:30

A piano from the 19th century. Made in Germany around the 1850s. Blüthner Grand. We'll call it Bluthy. Very kindergarten, I know.

Sing us a song, you're the Piano Man

2009-06-27T08:36:00.004+05:30

Those were Sunday morning I never thought I'd fondly recall. I was 9. Wake up in the morning. Tensed and terrified about unfinished piano lessons and the looming fear of scoldings of a balding teacher. Sunday morning cartoons and loochi aloor torkari were a luxury I wished I could afford. The bus journeys with the father to Deodar Street on Ballygunj Circular Road...walking past the huge Deodar Mansions (a housing complex stands in its place now), past the narrow lane of phuchkawallahs drying phuchkas in the sun in wicker baskets...to the house of the piano teacher. He had an upright piano. I would have to wait in queue for my turn while other students played and got scolded in the rightful order and sometimes in conjunction. When my turn would come, I would play the previous day's lessons carefully (and fearfully) until the teacher would give me my new sheet of music- the lesson for the next day. Somewhere along on those dreaded Sunday mornings of my childhood I had loved the piano. Touching a piano still gives me goosebumps. A piano is not an instrument for me. It is my entire childhood (and teenage) longings crumpled together. Something that I have wanted to have for most of my life always half knowing I could possibly not afford to. Or do justice to.

And if things go right, tomorrow, I will have a Grand Piano. Yes. The one with a wooden shade and all. I am not quite in a position to talk about it.

2009-06-12T16:58:00.002+05:30

I am so proud of her :)

The Long Way Home

2009-06-06T22:13:00.001+05:30

From the first time I heard a song on radio 107MHz back in school I have loved her music. There has rarely been a day in my life when I have not heard at least one of her albums. Her voice has kept me sane in times of utter insanity. They were the my last straw in a world then, when innocence and simplicity were running out fast.

Today life is different. I have been re-returned to the simplest state of being. It is like childhood. There is sadness. And there is happiness. Things in between have suddenly disappeared. If I were the me of a year back, I'd call myself shallow. That's the word I'd use.

It is a simplicity that is not exactly like a child's however. For a child is unaware of complexities.

And even today, her songs fill up the spaces, remind me of how things can be. Remind me to be grateful for everything that is. I have said this since the first time I heard her, I'll say it again. She writes for me :)

Both of us were used to losing

Guess we had some tales to tell

Suddenly they seemed amusing, till it came

Easy as the rain came in

When the train pulled in

I knew right then

You weren't going anywhere

And when the train pulled out

There was no doubt

Left in our minds

That was many years ago dear

Though they haven't all been kind

They take on a certain glow when I hear the sound

Rain falling on the ground

Easy as the rain came down

Lost in the conversation

It was hard to say goodnight

Standing at the station, tossing it all around

Easy as the rain came down...

Catching up-1

2009-06-04T09:11:00.001+05:30

It's been two weeks that I've started working. I love the company. The people. All very nice and affable. I am trying my hands at different things here. It is good, in general. However it leaves me with zero time for meeting friends and stuff. I need to get a new bank account and I have no time to do that either. Phew.

We were working on some new designs for Ex Nihilo. New sections too. Then suddenly the other day I found out that our site has been hacked by some Iraqi hackers. I don't know for what reason or end. They deleted our entire database, which basically means we lost all our comments. Feels horrible. But there's not much that can be done now. We ought to have been more careful.

Which means we will take some time before we can get this month's issue out. I am quite disappointed because we had some lovely work I personally was dying to share with everyone. Oh well.

On the personal front there are many reasons to rejoice. I meet up with Anuj on and off at lunch or in the evening and head for a Coffee or a Subway. There's always the hurry to return to the office. But it still feels better to have friends close by. (in fact in the next tower!) The poo got the job she was looking forward to yesterday. So we were very happy and ecstatic. I managed to get out of office a little early (6ish) and we met up at Pizza hut. We ordered somethings stuffed with cheese and were set the stop watch on to see if they really served the pizza in 17 minutes. 20 minutes later they served us a kadhai chicken stuffed crust instead of a paneer. We told him this is not what we had ordered. The man went back. But we were feeling bad for him, so called him back to say, it's fine. But he insisted on giving us what we had ordered.

While we were waiting he came back with a tray of ginger breads with cheese (free!) apologising for the delay. Ha ha! :) Finally we finished the pizza. I was too full to move. Ended it with a warm brownie and vanilla. It was great food. The Pizza Hut guys are really really wonderful.

Shobujer Obhijan

2009-05-17T10:37:00.006+05:30

She is a mad woman. And she has won. I am ecstatic because it is the triumph of content over packaging. Of real emotions over arrogance. Of humility over despot-ism.

If you are happy and you know it, send your pic! :D

It will be put up here: http://eibarerajashono.blogspot.com/

Email to: ei.bare.raja.shono@gmail.com

Quick! And do spread the word. If you want the Shoitanir Oboshan badge, mail me, or at the email given above or leave a comment here. This is the badge:

I have also realised that what is truly modern is necessarily eternal. Which is why at this ecstatic moment I suddenly find meanings to so many songs by Tagore...

'mora cholbo apon pothe tobu milbo tari sathe

mora noi badha noi dasher rajar trasher dashotte

noile mora rajar shonge milbo kishotte, amra shobai raja...'

Or Hirak Rajar Deshe...

'Kotoi rongo dekhi duniyaye o bhai re, o bhai

ami jei dikete chai dekhe obak bone jai

ami ortho kichhu khunje nahi pai re...

shonar foshol folaye je tar dui bela jote na ahar

hirar khonir shromik hoye kana kori nai'

or 'Ei bare raja shono, jeno nistar nei kono...'

and numerous other lines.

I am reminded of one of the most memorable days of my life. It was evening at Dobandi, a village in Singur. We had set up the screen in front of a club-house just adjacent to the TATA factory wall. Then with the children, youngs and olds of the village (and security guards watching from over the walls) we watched Hirak Rajar Deshe. It is difficult to express the frisson, it tends to overwhelm you. The children went home along the dark firefly-lit roads between the green fields, in groups, shouting 'Dori Dhore Maro taan...raja hobe khan khan..'

It will be impossible to tell you why I am so happy today. You won't understand :)

Poll-i-mating

2009-05-15T09:58:00.005+05:30

There is still a day to go. But the Post-Poll reports look monotonously grim. Frankly I do not think it is going to matter much to India whether the Congress or the BJP lead the coalition. What I am worried about is the State Assembly Elections of 2011.

Scenario I ;

Congress forms the government this time with the usual allies (I am not sure about RJD, but I have a feeling they will eventually join) including the Left. The left will naturally not take up ministries. They like drinking stuff with a long straw.

Now TMC has 2 options.

To join UPA- in which case it will be extremely difficult for them to form a credible opposition in 2011 against the Makku-Party. Plus, I have serious doubts if the Congress will be willing to partner with them. SUCI probably will. And hopefully they will manage to reconcile the differences with PDS.
To not join the UPA- This will give them more credibility in the State Polls, but make them strategically weaker since the Congress and the Left will be allies at the center.

Scenario II

BJP forms the government. From the pre-poll campaigns it is quite clear that they will invite TMC to join NDA. Again TMC has two options.

To join the government- Horrible move this will be. The congress won't stand by them in 2011 and above all it will seriously taint their credibility. To an extent that it will be the doom of them (recall 2004?)
To not join the government- This is clearly the best possible situation strategically. The congress and the TMC remain allies. The left remains an opponent at the state level. The BJP government at the center will ensure neutral polls at the state level.

Disclaimer: I am anti-pseudo-communist. Hence, all 'best possible situations' are naturally my way of looking at things. I am looking at things from the perspective of the State, and as to what could be the best way to oppose the left here.

Marx-Yeast

2009-05-13T12:20:00.002+05:30

I have been asked by the doctor to not go out of the house. But I went out, stood in the queue for an hour and cast my vote. I would, even if I were dying. There is a very popular trend picking up around me: A lot of young people 'stay away' from voting because they have 'lost faith in the system'. They say, it will not matter if they vote. I will vote because I must have my say. I must express what I feel irrespective of whether I am heard or not. I will do my bit to change the system, however small it might be. I never get bogged down by cynical adults who tell me its too small to count, to matter.

The pseudo-communists have turned this state into a nightmare. They have stooped to the abyss of monopoly. There is so much 'red' tape that its a tangled gigantic red ball rolling downhill. School teachers don't work. They have their Red union. Students will get away with ragging, with cheating in exams, zero attendance. They have SFI. Auto drivers will not follow traffic rules. Every auto, legal or illegal, pays 3 rupees every day to CITU. Bus drivers will overtake and kill. Their owners pay just 1000 rupees to CITU for every man they run over. Trucks are overloaded beyond their licensed limits. They have payed their tollahs to police along the way. Rickshaw wallahs will hit pedestrians. They have their union to fall back on. The hawkers will encroach your footpath. They are paying the party-man. Plus, whenever there is a rally all of them will be filled in buses provided for free by bus owners) to the maidan to add to the crowd. The police won't catch them. They have the same party to lick feet of. The courts, the municipal offices, the government offices, each and every person is a member. Who wants to work? No one can touch them as long as they pay their chanda.

I don't blame the party. If any party were in power for 35 years they would become equally despotic. We need change. And nothing, nothing in the world can be worse than where we are.

I love my city. My state. West Bengal has everything from mountains, to a heritage city, to a glorious past, plains, rivers, a sea, a mangrove that is the only one of its kind in the world. And look at the state of tourism. For god's sake, even Jharkhand has a tourism promotion going! Thousands of factories have closed down in the past 30 years. All indigenous industries are making way for multinationals. We had USHA factory, Krishna Glass factory, Annapurna factory, Dabur factory, Sulekha works, National Instruments in the Jadavpur area itself providing employment to the locals. I know because my parents have lived here. Now they are making way for land sharks building apartments that only a certain class of people can afford. Who buys stuff at South City? Who get the money that comes from these malls? Either giants like Reliance, Tatas, or foreign companys. Does it compare to an industry employing hundreds of people, making its own product? You can find a list of factories that have closed down that I tried to compile, here. But this is not even 1 percent of the actual loss!

I know it is difficult for a lot of people who are educated and refined to support a party like TMC, with a leader who is clearly quite eccentric and unrefined, but I respect her. I do. The woman is the only voice of opposition in this state. No one can question her honesty. Congress, historically, has been a party of the weak and the meek. The congress is also historically an ally of the CPI(marxist) in West Bengal. CPIM worked as a close ally with congress to wipe out the revolutionaries (and perhaps the only true communists) Naxals. CPIM provided information to the congress about their hideouts, etc. It would have been impossible for Congress to find them on their own. This again is a tale of dark betrayal that will take days to talk about. But anyone who had been closely associated with the Naxal movements in the 60s 70s will tell you.

CPIM -the party that finally came to power in West Bengal, was a party born out of betrayal. They were the outer party that had promised to run the democratic machinery till time was right for a true communist revolution. The inner party, the revolutionaries, who were supposed to go to the villages and start ground work died out over time, when they saw the leaders of outer party enjoying all the privileges of power which they were deprived of. With the death of the Inner Party the dream of a communist revolution was dead. All that has happened ever since is a huge farce.

Consumerism: A Must See for Everyone

2009-05-11T20:31:00.003+05:30

I pee you

2009-05-09T12:47:00.000+05:30

I had jaundice. So, I went to a nursing home. Boy. It was painful. But it was fun. The doctor while making a channel for the saline-drip (putting the needle in my vein that is) confirmed what I always suspected- Whoa, you have thick skin, he said. Right.

I would look forward to visiting hours. People would bring cartons of juice and what not. Dibyo even got me chocolate, which I unfortunately could not have and had to pass on to a more deserving mortal. I was seriously overwhelmed by the number of people who visited me, called me, messaged me. The mashis and nurses were nice too. Stop imagining things. Nothing out of an American Daydreams episode. But, well. You can't have everything!

The room-mates were quite funky too. An old chap with prostrate problems was ecstatic about pee-ing. He would drink gallons of water and try to beat me in how much one can pee. First day he peed 750 ml in 2 hours flat. I had just started on saline and lost out by about 300 ml. That night I braced myself for some serious peeing. And next morning, volia! I peed 1100 ml straight. The man was slightly offended. He took revenge by asking to switch off the AC for that night. Huh!

Anyway. So now I am back in the less competitive confines of my home. I just realised this post is got to be the most random I've ever written.

The Story

2009-04-20T09:58:00.004+05:30

I don't know how to begin

'Cause the story has been told before

I will sing along i suppose

I guess it's just how it goes

I am nostalgic this morning. I don't know how to put it. JUDE classes are ending for many. And I am feeling the pangs of leaving college. I did not go for my college farewell. I felt nothing about my college ending. Nothing. Yes, slightly out of place, in all the nostalgia I did not relate to.

I have been looking at all the Facebook/Orkut albums over since last night. None of my friends are from college. I had always grown up hearing how college will never have the simplicity, bonding that school had. But looking back, all my closest friends are ones I met after school. In the last 4 years I have known the most amazing people and I know, this is it. This is the bond that will last a lifetime. This is what I will always miss. Crave for.

And if there is one college I will fondly remember, it is JU. The engineering canteen, the Union room, the monstrous rabbit bins, the trees, the jheel-paar. JUDE. All this comes with a strange awkwardness. I don't know what exactly it is, but I guess it is the question at the back of my head, am I allowed to miss something I never belonged to?

The evenings me and Dhruva would walk in through the 4 No. Gate to find Kaichu after the Edit-Pub course(?). The lebu cha boy. I miss Kaichu. A lot. Then the fests. The band competitions at OAT. The freshers. Once I remember being so high a after playing on stage, I left my keyboard back by mistake. I had to come back to get it at 10.30 in the night when i finally remembered.

Then bugging Doyeeta, Suchismita, Bimbabati to come to Moni da's when Subhayu and me would leave college disgusted in the middle of a hot summer afternoon. All the jokes about the disappearing crows at Moni Da. And how people jacked off in the ketchup-pots. Then going to Champadir chayer dokan.

It used to be such a nice place back then. The place started being frequented by strange/weird people gradually and we moved to the morer chayer dokan. Not more than a year and a half back.

There is this small dent in the footpath in front of the tea-stall. Our favourite past time is to watch people trip and fall. That is, when we are not swearing and screaming and scandalizing mothers of school kids. I cannot think how I will ever get used to any other kind of life. But I hope and pray, that i'd always miss these days. Love these days as the best in my life. That's how I'd like it.

But i don't know how it will end

With all those records playin'

I guess it's just how it goes

The stories have all been told before

I guess it's just how it goes

Norah Jones :)

Security

2009-04-17T22:52:00.000+05:30

Source:

11th Floor

2009-04-14T23:55:00.000+05:30

Today was a crucial day in my life. It is the beginning of The New Life.

Let them suffer

2009-04-09T23:44:00.006+05:30

Don't I, as an individual, have the right to suffer? Struggle? Can anyone, say a being that cares for me, loves me, have the right to prevent me from struggling in life by taking decisions for me?

Situation 1

The year 2100 AD. A country 'X' is suffering from under-development. The common people do not have access to the basic necessities in life. A life that is more a struggle for existence than anything else. Enter Country 'Y'. A nation much evolved, with people way better off. A nation that has truly ensured great quality of life for all its people. The plight and horror of the people of 'X' is too much to bear for the sensitive and evolved people of country 'Y'. They put money and brains together to launch a campaign to stop all or a certain percentage of people in country 'X' from reproducing any more. The action springs from genuine love and empathy. It is imposed on the people of 'X' forcefully. The long term result is better quality life for the rest of the people of 'X'.

Situation 2

A welfare state decides, that since the quality of life of people below a certain income level, is quite not a life worth living, they will slowly phase this population out by making it illegal for them to reproduce. This will not only make life better for the poor who survive, but also for the rich, who were quite disturbed by the growing level of nuisance created by the increasing number of jobless poor. The state executes this decision out of genuine concern for its people.

Question 1

Does another individual/body have the right to decide for you if your life is worth living? Will you let someone come and sterilize you because you are in terrible living conditions? Because they cannot bear your sufferings?

Question 2

Do you think you would let a person do anything to you because they feel responsible for you? Does your opinion count?

Finally, are we in a position to sterilize dogs because it is too much of a pain for them to live in the terrible conditions they live in? Are we greater beings? In what right can we do something like this? Because we feel responsible for it? Because we feel bad to see them suffer? Who entrusted us with so much responsibility over them?

Every individual has the right to suffer. And live the life, however it is.

Opinion

It is a gross mistake to treat living beings as a propulation/species. It is important to look at them as individuals.

When you think in term of numbers it is similar to the way our government justifies crimes on a smaller group of people for the good of a greater number of people. The number does not matter.

Think of yourself. Someone comes to you and says you have too many problems in life. Think how wronged you will feel if something as crucial as reproduction is not left to you. Because the person/being feels responsible for you.

What would you do?

How does it matter if this treatment is meted out to all members of a species or to a percentage. Violation of rights of a being is not measured in the number of individuals that are violated.

Forget reproduction. Would you let other people decide what you wear? Say a state decides that with the growing number of eveteasing cases, they want women to dress a certain way. The state thinks it's its responsibility to save you from the harassment.

Will you comply?

Don't answer. It wouldn't matter.

1/2

2009-04-08T22:43:00.001+05:30

Touch Wood.

Will

2009-04-07T00:27:00.000+05:30

We shall overcome. We will. Because we will.

Stay

2009-04-05T20:56:00.001+05:30

2009-04-05T00:54:00.000+05:30

Ex Nihilo

2009-04-02T11:21:00.001+05:30

Ex Nihilo is back. And how! Take a look at the Newsletter sent out on the occasion. If you did not get the newsletter and would like to subscribe to it, you can do it here.

Have You Seen the Timer?

2009-03-27T03:02:00.000+05:30

The Train Home

2009-03-26T20:00:00.000+05:30

Today was a cloudy day. But that's not what I came to say. As the train pierced through the flesh of darkness, deeper and deeper it went. To the heart of darkness. Little huts with kerosene afterglows weaved a dream into the darkness. Like the silver of a full moon night. Only yellower. Only mellower. Only more magical. The wind was full of promises of fulfillment, if you listened carefully. Breaths were lifted in the wind till they went out of the doors on the opposite, way up. They met the sighs from long back and exchanged pleasanteries. But you could not hear that.

Night

2009-03-14T13:57:00.000+05:30

And so she smiled and cried
in silent rivers of reason meandering
by the wild flower that smelled of
coconut water.

The evening star was melting
in the Eastern skies,
meanwhile.

The breeze flew a bedlam flight
in memories of a salty sea
that called to you when you passed by,
held you in a gaze longing.

The sand was warm when a voice echoed
'Curtains'-
The night sky fell as the rivers looked.

I am excaaite!

2009-03-14T11:01:00.002+05:30

This is my first mobile Blogging post! I know a million people have
been doing this for some time now. Still. I am super excited :)

--
Sent from my mobile device

Bejan Daruwallah

2009-03-09T23:23:00.000+05:30

I know this year will be tough. There is so much that will change. For the first time I see myself face to face with real problems. Problems that are not ideological or emotional but purely survivalistic. Includes getting out of home and fending for my own. There is not much that I can not do. At home I do most of the things that anyone running a house/family can be expected to. But it's not the same. Somehow. Not that I'm complaining. I'm just anxious. Life will never be the same again. Umm, that is all I have to say about that.

2009-03-08T18:13:00.001+05:30

Moonbeam in a Skin. Molten Dreams in a Cast serene.

2009-03-01T09:24:00.006+05:30

Today is a Sunday. One of the cons of studying engineering is that the Sundays lose their charm. Somewhat. Four years of extended laissez-faire. You lose count of days. But this is not how Sundays always were. I was in school back then. I would be the first one to get up on Sundays. Dadai's old National Panasonic cassette player would churn out Begum Akhtars and sometimes, Anup Jalotas. I would love to be the first one to open the door to the veranda and let the sun in; take a deep breath in the morning air. I would always do this very discretely. For there would be sparrows that played in the veranda. If I could open the door non-threateningly enough, they would keep on chattering and fighting, hopping beautifully in the shiny columns of dust that shone in the sun. In the kitchen Shantapishi would be making tea for the family. I would pick up The Sunday Statesman discretely as before and go and sit on the floor. This was because I could not hold the paper in my hand like grown-ups would and read. I had accepted this fact of life pretty high upstream and given up on imitating them. I remember taking a good look at the paper, running my hands over it. Then reading in a way that I saved my favourite parts for the last. Favourites parts back then would be the supplements. Which were often glossy papered and colored. Then baba would get up. Have tea. I would be allowed only on Sundays to have two spoonfuls of tea to my glass of milk. It's a wonder what a little tea can do to the taste of your glass of milk when you are young! I would sip on the milk with the grown-ups, like the grown ups and for a day in the week feel a sense of fraternity because of the general environment of liberty and equality.

Then baba would take the bajarer jhola and go to the market. Sometimes I would tag along. I never liked shopping for vegetables so much as meat-fish and chicken and stuff. Now one reason could be that i like meat better. But at that time, the real reason would be the sheer dynamics of the fish market that enthralled me. Fishes jumping in water trays, being held and cut in huge bent botis, the cries of the chicken, the way its skin was peeled off like an orange. All this affected me. Not in a bad or good way. But I could not help feeling very alive. Now compare that to a man trying to sell you potatoes. You get the idea.

Another reason for going to the bajar with the father was the jilipis we would buy. I love watching jilip bhaja. Then taking the rickshaw back home. Neighbours would comment in good humour, ' Oh tumio bajar korchho babar sathe?' and that would make my day.

Sundays would mean luchi-shada aloor torkari. I don't like luchi with anything so much as I like it with Aloor Torkari. The smell of dalda in the air as we came in from the market, then running with the bag of fish to the kitchen to show the mother and the grandmother what had been brought home. It was fun. Then there would be that late sumptuous Sunday lunch after which people would go for an afternoon nap. I hated that. I was forced to go to sleep too. I would close my eyes and pretend to sleep. Now I was not very sure if one is supposed to sense itching, tickles and such things when one is asleep. I nevertheless refused to take the chance and give it away. So, if say, my ankle was itching now, I would slowly change my posture(this i knew was normal when asleep) such that my fingers would touch my ankles (stop trying to imagine, I'm trying to explain here!). Then I would very slowly itch my ankle. The very activity of lying asleep left me exhausted.

Such were Sundays. I don't want to write anymore, that is :D

2009-02-08T00:33:00.000+05:30

Early mornings would smell of baby powder from the last night. Late evenings of you after a day's ordeal.

I've known sadness. Purple shrouds of mist on a marshy moor. Late afternoons. A child on a swing. Touching the sky. Scraping the ground. Rising dust. Settling. Rising. Holed up sighs in a damp room. Sighs re-sighed.

I know a sadness now. Like the first warm evening after winter. You notice the sweat on your forehead. There is a breeze and a clear sky. It smells of flowers, weeds you have never known names to. You lie on the grass and look at the sky. The world as you know it recedes away from you until you feel like an alien. Alone. Alone because you know there is a world at the periphery. Far away.

How often have you missed a person you are sitting next to? Or hugging? Wishing you had more? Knowing there is no more. That you have all you would ask. More than all. It is an unavoidable longing. You find yourself in its depths, wallowing in it.

Like the pleasure of held up breath. Just before you give up and breath in? The faint tingles in your brain. Like a Beautiful Black Out.

I knew a sadness once. I know a sadness now.

English

2009-01-17T22:26:00.002+05:30

This post is entirely because of the Seminar on the National Knowledge Commission's report on Engineering Education held at JU that I attended, although this is very far from the actual subject of the Seminar. I was moved into thinking by some of the comments and felt like putting down my contradictions and vehement agreements together.

Fear of the English language is one reason why a large section of the students drop out of schools every year in both urban and rural areas of West Bengal. Even in secondary and higher secondary levels English has the highest number of people failing in it. We must remember that most of these schools have Bengali (or Hindi in some) as the medium of instruction. English is taught only as one of the subjects-as a secondary language tool apart from the vernacular.

There is a growing worry about if more than required emphasis is being laid on the need to nurture good English language skills among students from the primary level. There are recommendations by the NKC that suggest that even other subjects (apart from obviously other languages) be taught in English. Many feel that this might pose a hindrance to learning, specially when English itself is a cause for failures. So, students may end up learning nothing as opposed to only failing to learn English. The question comes up- is the importance of English overrated in a country like ours?

I think not. Here are a few reasons why.

How do we learn a language? By imitation(speaking/writing). By hearing. By reading. The more one is exposed to a language the more one learns. How many of us have learned Hindi in school? Or more precisely, how many of us understand Hindi because it was taught in school? It's just that we are continuously exposed to Hindi all through the growing years...in text, in hearing, in communicating. Do you believe the same could have been achieved by merely Hindi language classes? Even if Hindi classes did have the same learning effect, which of the two is a more natural learning process? Language is best learned in its application. That can be supplemented with grammar classes that reinforce what a child already learns, explaining to her/him the whys and hows of the language.

If students are failing in English, it does not necessarily mean banishing it to a cameo would necessarily make it less cumbersome for the student. There are other questions that need to be asked. Why is English becoming such a menace? Poor teachers who themselves lack a love for or knowledge of the language? Yes. What else? Well. May be the expectation that a language can be taught merely by making students learn question answers to ill-chosen texts? By making them solve exercises of grammar books in the name of language application?

When application, in fact ought to be everything apart from the grammar. When all other subjects could have been a place to see how language can be applied. That would aid in the learning of not only the language itself but also open up other avenues. What avenues?

It is time we realized that it is not practically possible to have competent teachers everywhere. There will always be bad teachers. But what a knowledge of a language like English can do is open up a whole new world for a keen student-a world that s/he will be free to explore on her/his own.

This is where technology comes in. In a world like today, information, with the power of the internet, can be as reachable as would be any region of your cerebral cortex. It is an extension of your brain. Thankfully, the new God, Google takes care of that. He patiently answers all your questions. (Unlike the Old Chap who tested your patience and made you wait for moments of epiphany or Nirvana, which we'll all agree were disputed and pretty far between.So,Boo!)

Yes, I agree. We need to make sure that the Digital Divide is removed. Don't hold computer classes. Don't pay stupid tech-retard teachers to 'teach' computers to children. Don't device computer courses. And for heaven's sake don't hold computer exams. Use the money to buy more computers and get them a good working internet connection. Just leave them to students to explore. This is where a teacher even if he/she is lacking in knowledge but enthusiastic can come in as a facilitator. Together this can be extremely effective.

Here is when we go back to the initial issue of whether English is over hyped. Clearly not. What percent of the internet is in Bengali/Hindi? What percent of the best texts for higher education technical or otherwise is in a vernacular? Is it practically possible to translate all the resources to vernacular? Can a text book, course materials prepared by teachers, etc be a substitute for all that the mere knowledge of English would have brought to their disposal?

Bottomline: English needs to be taught. And taught well. Not the way it is taught now, specially in government schools. It is really not difficult to see what could be a good way to teach English in schools. Most good schools in Calcutta can act as good models. Teaching other subjects in English would mean more exposure to the language for the students and hence better and faster grasp of the language.

I come from an engineering background. I believe the quality of technical education in West Bengal suffers heavily because of the poor proficiency of the students and the faculty in English. Most of the texts for such specialized courses as say, electronics, are written and published outside India and most students avoid reading these books because the language is too daunting for them. They make do with poor quality Indian books which (with exceptions of course) are but cheap and over-simplified copies of the good authors. Where the good books leave the problems to be solved by the students to help build deeper understanding of the subject, these books play to the gallery by providing Worked Out Examples in hundreds. Students read the solutions to the problems (imagine!) and memorize the methods. If you are lucky you might find the same problem in your exam without any alternation in even the figures and calculations!

This, again, is for those who read books at all. The new sensation in Engineering is not Pearson's Publishing or Tata Mc Graw Hill's. It is a certain Matrix Educare Pvt. LTD. And they do live up to their name. They operate from a counter on college street that rightly resembles the ticket counters of one of those C grade movie Hall running a Jawani ki Aag. They have captured the somewhat retarded imagination of the engineer-kind. One month before the semester they publish thicker replicas of porn booklets that have a binding and a size that is optimized for tearing and carrying to the exam hall respectively. But that's a story for another day. */

So with questions being set from Matrix booklets and Worked out problems the Semester exams are a breeze. That is when the internal marks have been taken care of by either pleasing the professors by affectionate displays of love and false reverence or by shutting the fuck up or both. The real Katrina breaks in when the campus recruitments are round the corner. Suddenly English is in the lime light. Sadly, to the discredit of the otherwise versatile and efficient Matrix Educare, they do not have booklets to get you through Group Discussions or interviews. Besides, the interview panels are rumoured to not take sneaking in worked out answers to the hall in the usual humour and banter. So. Suddenly everyone is mugging up answers. Corridors resplendent with random Ice-breakers: Hello Sir. Myself... I love mujik sir. All kinds. Myself and my friends play in canteens often...

Do not let my sarcasm make you even for once, forget the irony. I have seen the best of semester toppers tensed. Almost hopelessly resigned to fate. Even people with the most sound technical backgrounds. You who write-speak-think-dream in English will never know the importance of it. Ask the guy who cannot. Stand by him as s/he waits outside the room waiting for his/her turn to be interviewed by the panel. Look at him as he tries so hard to put all his thoughts together, wishes that once, just this once, he'd be able to talk about his everyday likes and dislikes in plain correct English.

2008

2009-01-06T20:40:00.004+05:30

Personally 2008 was a year to remember. The most significant so far. Memorable for reasons Good, Bad and Unclassified. The year had begun with the tingling excitement of preparing for campus recruitments. The band was doing fairly good as well. A particular competition performance had been aired on a Bengali music channel. Big deal, you will say. Well, big deal it was for my old grandmother. 8th January, I recall. She had called me at the end of the show, oozing pride and excitement. She had been happy. Very happy. Good for her, for she died the next day. My Dinna.

Even when the formalities and rites were on and my parents left for my grandparents' place, I got through to a company in the campus recruitment. Big deal, you will say. Well, big deal it would have been for my old grandmother. Anyway.

The days grew longer into a summer. Found and lost love. Or so I thought. Not once. Twice.

The rain clouds rumbled and roared. The rains fell... Beginning of something so wonderful as would be impossible to put in words. Or may be I'm plain superstitious. Walks. Many. In the rain. In the sun. In the swamps. Shoes oozed mud and filth.

The rains went. Took with it the soot. Eased the strings. That pulled back. That told you not to let go. So we fell. Like the rains that started it all.

The trip to Shantiniketan

2008-11-07T11:20:00.012+05:30

Gosh, we can not believe it! The trip is finally happening. Here we are on the train (Ganadevata Express), 5 past 6 in the morning and in the golden sun the train is pulling out of the Howrah humdrum. P is trying to hold the window up with her hands since it will not keep open by itself. I , who is sitting next to P, is trying to tell P that it's futile and she need not go through the ordeal and that it's fairly chilly anyway. Next to I is me looking out of the window at the steel sheds along the railway, somewhat blurred in the morning mist...yes, the window lovingly held open by P. Next to me, in the seat next to ours (which is a three seater) is D with that unmistakable happy grin that says Yay!

That P would come with us was quite a last moment decision. I had bumped into her at Ranikuthi while returning home from M's place where I had gone to collect my camera batteries. We were talking and she said, I can go too. I'll confirm once I talk to the parents. You're kidding me, I'd said. Not, she persisted. Anyway, so she had informed me late in the night that she would be joining us for the trip. What a pleasant surprise! For all of us actually. Since Di and M could not come with us owing to an unfortunate event. And even the bald A pulled out at the last moment because of unavoidable office assignments. So, we were all extremely happy that P would be coming with us.(That is not to say that we would not have liked her come with us if the others had not backed out.) We had woken up three in the morning, me, D and P and come to Howrah together. I reached in time too after a lot of adventure. But then I would not be I without the bizarre adventures. We had gotten the tickets and boarded the train. Found comfortable seats too. So, all good.

It's been about half an hour since the train started moving and I can see D dozing off on a grown-ass man's shoulder. The man, in question, is sleeping too, arms crossed. The three of us are taking pictures of one another and of D who seems to be suckling in his sleep. I moves around to capture Dhruva's weird expressions to her satisfaction while I eat chocolate biscuits and cakes. Now P's perseverance gives away and she lets go of the window and goes off to sleep with her head on I's shoulder/the window(alternating). I falls asleep on my shoulders while I, the responsible one stay awake looking out for my dear friends and our luggage. (The discerning reader will realize that the arrangement is not really as bad as I make it out to be and they will know why.)

Now before the reader's mind starts going haywire in wild fancies, and while the others are still asleep, I invite you to come take a look at the luggage we are carrying. I is the tidiest of them all. The Adidas knapsack on her lap is all she is carrying. That includes her huge Nikon D40 and a large water bottle. Both P and D tie for the second place with moderately-sized bags. I am the black sheep with a mammoth bag that holds enough change of clothes for all of us for about a month. But this was not what it was meant to be like. I had initially planned to carry my 2.1 Creative speakers with me. So I had used half of the bag for packing and kept a neat half for the speakers(and the woofer). Just when I had managed to unplug the speakers from the computer and after wiping years of dirt off them was trying to put them into the empty half, the mother entered the room. 3:15 in the morning. Early morning pleasantries later I was desperately tucking clothes and things to fill up the empty half. So, there. Oh and oh wait, I has woken up and is looking dishevelledly around making sure everything is in place and she has not been abandoned on the train.

She says now it's my turn to sleep and I am no one to refuse. I will go to sleep now, but not before I have had shingaras that are been peddled and hawked. I says she can have a bite from mine but she doesn't want any for herself. P is asleep and D says he doesn't eat anything that needs to be chewed in the morning. That figures, me and I chuckled.

I have finished my shingaras and gulped down some water. Now, dear reader, you will excuse me, for I must go sleep for some time while I and D stay awake to watch over me.

To be continued...

Untitled

2008-11-05T22:47:00.000+05:30

Is there a word for a happiness that is ever present and continuous? For absolute security and faith? For unquestioned, uninterrupted care? I have this feeling that I have broken on through to the other side of reality. My reality doesn't look real. Yet it's as real as a steel knife through the viscera.

May be the word I am looking for is Peace.

The Complete Man

2008-10-26T01:47:00.004+05:30

The Raymond advertisements have always been one of the classiest on the Indian advertising scene. I, for one, always found the music beautiful. For the ones who might be interested here is an interesting article on the story of The Complete Man.

The music, after some Googling I found out, is a western classical piece called Dreams (specifically Golden Dreams (Träumerei) Op.15 No. 7) by the German Romantic composer Robert Schumann. Try listening to the original piano composition.

Yes!

2008-10-22T01:42:00.000+05:30

My computer had not been working for almost a month. Got it fixed today. Good wishes of the lovely season to all :) Will be back.

Growing Up

2008-09-22T00:05:00.004+05:30

I remember the times when you are in the state of indulgent consciousness of a dream. Actually, I remember that first moment in your dream when you realise in the serenity that sleep grants you, that this is just a dream. Oh, to imagine the absolute vulnerablility and the delicate transitions of that instant in time! I cannot say for sure and I don't know if you will agree, but I have always thought I like the few moments of torment that follow, sweeter; the moments that mark the walk away from the dream.

What makes them sweeter? What seperates our perceptions on either sides of the moment? The consciousness? Yes. The antagonistic play of intentions. When you are preparing to let go. Not wanting to. Sad that the dream will not go on. Relieved that you will go back to reality. However that is. Somewhat stupified at having believed so intently in something. Amazed by the brittleness of what appeared perfectly logical and real to you on the otherside of that moment. That one deciding moment. That one waking moment. That one fleeting moment.

I was walking the walks I walk everyday. Then I noticed it first. And no matter how much I pondered I could not find that one moment, that one day, that one incident that marked this remarkable shift in who I am. Or at least who I believed I was. Had been. Where was I when I first realised that nothing really matters? That nothing could possibly matter much? That everything will come to an end? And a lot more many things will spring from absolutely nowhere? Was I passing the middle aged panwallah with gory lips when it happened? Was I asleep? Where was I when I metamorphed? Then again, metamorph is a term that clearly indicates a positive development. Growth. I am not entirely certain it is the word I ought to be using.

When was it that happiness almost always started coming with an internal dis-association, or a conscious effort of it? When you start almost looking at yourself like an old man looking at a gleeful kid and smiling to his self? When all things that ought to have made you sad come with their very own world-wary gurdian angel? Worst, you trust him implicitly. You know he is right when he says it won't really matter. That nothing matters much. In the end. When was it that you stopped screaming out like a mad man at such guiding spirits? Telling Him you don't bloody care! That you want what you want? When did you settle in the numbing soothingness of wise serenity?

I try looking for that one moment. Just in case.

2008-09-20T00:21:00.001+05:30

This be the welcome home post :) Yes, you.

Mithya

2008-09-07T20:53:00.000+05:30

This is not Bollywood. It's cinema at its best. Hats off to Rajat Kapoor. Definitely the best Hindi movie I have seen.

You can make it! bla

2008-09-07T18:31:00.004+05:30

WARNING: THIS POST IS FULL OF PERSONAL OPINIONS THAT YOU MIGHT FIND EXTREMELY EGOISTIC AND DISTURBING. YOU WILL FEEL LIKE I HAVE NO RIGHT TO JUDGE PEOPLE LIKE THIS. BUT THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I THINK. THIS IS WHO I AM. AT LEAST I AM BEING HONEST.

There's one good thing about me(among a million others), I think before I do/say anything. Only, I am very fast in my thinking process. So, most people will take me to be impulsive. If you still recall the force versus time graph and the area-under-the-curve thing it will be easier for you to get my point. I am consistently/continuously impulsive.

I am impatient only when I know something is not worth it. For, know this for sure, I have traced in the series of events a pattern that so closely matches many other templates in my head, that I immediately know what lies ahead. It's more of mathematical induction customized to a somewhat wider (and grimmer) event space.

I notice patterns in things very easily. That is not to say I generalize. I don't. Not here. My inductions are tailored based specifically on my past interactions with the person concerned. These interactions are not considered independent of the situations/circumstances in which they took place. So, you could say I have, at least to my belief, a fair and logical way of judging people and weighing out to them what they deserve to be rationed.

You will notice that this system cannot work when I meet someone new. I have no previous data concerning that individual. In these cases I use a very wide band band-pass filter. This is the only stage where I do generalize people to an extent, to weed out the absolute scum. (Yes, you may insist that they are different people, and not necessarily scum, but i don't care.) I am almost never wrong in this part. Generalization isn't always very bad, I have come to see. There are some traits that I simply will not stand.

If the person concerned passes this first filter, I put him/her into the observation stage. This can range from one day to several months depending on how dubious or dynamic the characters are. Now they start developing a space for themselves as individuals and I stop referring to templates when I look at them. I keep taking mental notes, sometimes sub-conscious.

Now there are some people I trust and rely on completely. Implicitly. In fact they might not even have to undergo the stages mentioned earlier. These are very very few people. There may be some that I don't see in months. Then there are some I see almost every other day. When it comes to these people, I never ever judge them and I will forgive them no matter what they do to me. I may not forgive them for what they do to others however.

If you have had the patience to read this far, I must tell you, it's not at all as elaborate as it sounds. It's so organized and fast that you will think I am acting on impulse. And in case you have jumped to this part looking for something less taxing on the brains, I suggest you skip this post. I promise not to hate you for it.

There are two things I look for in a person.

How passionate is s/he about something/anything that she/he loves. How far will s/he go for it. It may be music, it may be physics, it may be photography, it may be another person, it may be just walking.
How consistent is s/he about her/his passion. Can she/he love it day in day out? So much that s/he will never get tired of it? So much that s/he could take on the world for it?
How does the person treat a person/thing that can be of no consequence to her/him ever?

I do not like people who get bored of things easily. Boredom is not necessarily a bad thing. There can be subtle joys in it. For me, life's greatest joy and mystery is monotony, boredom. It strings moments together to make one life. When one looks for changes and avenues because one is bored, it is a sign of lack of empathy. An inner emptiness. I am not against change. I love changes. But a love for change that springs from boredom is a symptom of an ailing mind. An escapist soul.

Picasa 3

2008-09-03T11:46:00.001+05:30

The new Picasa 3 is absolutely stunning. What's more, the Picasa Web Albums now have automatic face detection with tagging! You will freak out if you see how it detects people from your photo and names them!

If you are outside of the U.S. and would like to download
Picasa 3 in English, you can do so from http://dl.google.com/picasa/picasa3-setup.exe

The Future is Here and all that

2008-09-03T01:10:00.001+05:30

I don't know how many people see the significance of this. But this is what I feel: Chrome is going to change the world for ever. If you think that's simply because I am a mad fan of Google, you are nuts. Go use it!
http://www.google.com/chrome/

Then again, whoever thought of releasing something as mammoth as this using a webcomic?

Blue Ribbons in the Wind

2008-08-28T09:07:00.001+05:30

I could not help it. Had never been more impatient. More mindlessly impulsive. I fucked up alright. Acted like a selfish bastard. If you are reading this, know that I am sorry.

Know that you made me proud.

But for that rush of blood to the head, I would have been a part of all the celebrations I'd thought of.

Or may be it's true. May be I am only a selfish loser. I don't quite like myself these days.

A Walk to remember it was. The Scientist. And She.

Or that day I ran after the taxi. Chocolates in my bag. Stuffed potato in my head. Small ears. And an obscenely large moon. That is how I'll remember you.

Button the shirt na! :)

Prudence

2008-08-27T00:29:00.001+05:30

The problem with me is I simply fail to lose faith. I believe. I virtually go through things unchanged. With a better understanding of things. Yes. But I never stop from doing things the way I normally would. Just because I'm wiser or because I'd know better.

I make no sense.

P.S.

I never thought I'd miss you as much. Yes. You. Let for once, just once, let things go right. Just for the fun of it. Or for the utter monotony of debacles. So that things are not as predictable. Wouldn't it be fun? If for once things worked out so well?

Luck be a Lady tonight! :)

Sleep Well

2008-08-16T14:56:00.002+05:30

I was having sleepless nights. I needed it. Desperately. Went to the local corner store. Bought myself one luscious red pack that said: Deep Reach. Extra Large.

You guessed it right. Mortein mosquito coils. I sleep well these days.

Mediocrity

2008-07-28T16:44:00.001+05:30

Why do we shrink from absolute honesty, from absolute love, from absolute perfection? Why are we put off by excellence? Because excellence demands excellence. Perfection demands perfection. Honesty demands honesty.

It's easier for us to love things that are imperfect. Closer to imperfection. Because we do not have too much to live up to. We love them hoping that even our imperfections will be overlooked in a silent mutual forgiving.

And in these secret escapes Mediocrity is born. Don't we find it so much easier, comfortable being around people who are mediocre, almost entirely honest, somewhat talented, fairly hardworking? In fact we will mostly end up having a pretty good time with them.

It's almost always more difficult to handle people who are very nice, honest, infallible, true to their word, totally in control of their selves. Even when they don't say anything we know in our wicked little minds that they are better. That neither do we have the will nor the patience to live up to them. We are ill-at-ease, worried that we will end up doing or saying something that will make the differences very apparent. Too apparent to ignore.

Then of course, there really is nothing that is too apparent to ignore.

We keep fretting about so many problems. In our personal lives, society. We say we are trying to work towards making things better. True. Exactly true. We always work towards making it better. We do not really want to solve the problem in its entirety. We would miss the satiety, the satisfaction that this Saviour image of ours grants us. When there is no problem there need not be a Saviour, or a solution seeker. We need our time of glory. Even if it is only inside our minds.

Blank Noise Spectators' Special (Till 15 August)

2008-07-28T00:16:00.000+05:30

The public on the street comprises of those who 'experience' street sexual harassment, i.e. the survivors; those who cause street sexual harassment i.e the perpetrators and those who witness street sexual harassment i.e the spectators.

Our very own stat counter on the right hand bar of the page says that 22% of the Blank Noise blog visitors are spectators. Now its your turn to speak!

Most cases of street sexual violence go unnoticed because they are intangible , can be doubted as 'accidental brush/ touch' ( strictly in the Indian context). More often than not the survivor feels embarrassment and shame for being sexually violated and does not wish to draw further attention. Some survivors of street sexual violence don't seek public support because of the fear that 'the public' may not always show support, act indifferent, or be one more face in the crowd watching the scene.

Blank Noise Spectators Special asks members of the public, both men and women to share what they witnessed. What was your first reaction? Was it to intervene? Was it to ignore? What did you do? What would you rather have done? Can you share your thoughts about being a spectator. If you have been a 'special spectator' , that is, intervened in the situation, please tell us how! Was it with wit and humor? Or did physically assault the 'perpetrator'? Did you walk away? Or call the cops? Or gather a crowd? Or see another spectator take charge of the situation and participate in any way.

To participate in this online event please register by emailing us at blurtblanknoise at gmail dot com subject titled Blank Noise Spectators Special. Link this post to your blog, and send in your blog address. We will add you to the list below. Deadline for your post on being a spectator is August 15th.

IF YOU DO NOT HAVE A BLOG: no problem. what matters is your point of view. Register with us via email anyways. We will publish your ideas on the Blank Noise blog on Aug 15.

This event hopes to be one in the series of events planned in bringing together 'survivors'(http://blanknoiseactionheroes.blogspot.com), 'perpetrators' (male only event coming soon) and 'spectators'.

We look forward to hearing from you!

Blank Noise Team

2008-07-04T00:35:00.000+05:30

Bad times. Bad times. Not so good times. Hardly the best times. Oh well. Life is good. It's all good. And even this shall pass.

To make way for other not so good things. He he.

Special

2008-06-26T00:15:00.004+05:30

Mad people are just plain sad people. In fact, we could do away with one of the words. Their madness is the only escape from their sadness. So much that they almost become it.

Just when everything is about to be perfect and beautiful, just when things seem so unrealistically right, just when every single block seems to fall in place, life becomes unbearable. Just in time.

To remind you. It's the same life you lived. What were you thinking little boy?

It's nice to be special. It would seem. Turns out, it's not, always. Special kids have predictably special needs. They are always loved a little more than others. Put on a pedestal exactly 73 feet high.

Sometimes, these kids, will just want to come down and play. It's difficult to tell from down here what they really want. So they'll just wail in the sky. People below will look up at them and smile. Nice kids. Nice kids. Always loved. Always there.

I could sit by a pond all my life. And look at the ripples that shine and dance on the street lights as they go by. The street lights, visibly stirred, just lie there. Like street lights should. The ripples shine as they go.

The Man on the Pink Moon

2008-06-10T22:14:00.004+05:30

Why leave me hanging on a star
When you deem me so high?

And why leave me sailing in a sea
When you hear me so clear?

-Nick Drake.

(If you haven't heard him, do. Now. Before something happens to you and you die not listening to him ever and regret it for the rest of your death)

If Life were a Play I'd be the Classic Fool. Time after Time. I never seem to get tired of this character. Like I have a choice :)

Bless the Rain that pours. Bless the Wind that caresses. Bless the Night that lets you hide.

Take This! :D

2008-06-09T10:00:00.000+05:30

Harvest

2008-06-06T16:16:00.002+05:30

When my fingers sink into your soft being of rainbow colored dreams.
There are knowings suspended from nowhere.
Like dead babies with crinkled fingers in a formalin jar.
Like gloom.
The room in my head
That swells with dehiscent whims.
Waiting to burst open
Paint you a purple gooey blue
When you are not looking.

Guess who is in town? :)

2008-06-05T10:28:00.000+05:30

2008-05-29T01:55:00.004+05:30

I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.

Pablo Neruda

Rain

2008-05-26T19:24:00.001+05:30

There’s something very reassuring about rainy evenings. About rain. It sort of gives me a sense of belonging. Weaves the bits and pieces of confused happenings together to give it a sense of continuity. As long as it rains like this, I know it’s the same life I lived. Loved. Live. Love. No matter what. Life for me is lived from one rainy evening to another. To think that it will always rain like this, no matter where we are, what we are doing, how we are in life! Will you not stare out of your office window one evening when it rains like this? Will you not think of the vapour-lamp lit streets in the rains? Of addas? Of random getting-caught-in-the-rains? Will it not make you smile, inside. Once? No matter where you are, will it not feel like home? To know that it’s the same rain that got you soggy on your way back home from some lousy tuition after school? Everytime I get wet in the rain, it gives me sanity to go on. Knowing, that there’s one thing that has been. Will be. That was, even when I wasn’t there to admire it. Love it. There’s something very reassuring about rainy evenings. About rain.

To Summer

2008-05-11T09:44:00.002+05:30

It will not be very often when you'll remember a summer. Summers are dull moths. Dusty beige. No wing flapping. Graceless flights. Odor De-odor-ized. In countries like ours, and a city like Calcutta, Summer is the black sheep of the family.

Not loved. Not talked about. Not looked forward to.

And when winter, the sister married in New York, comes calling for her yearly trip (complaining all the while about the rising prices of Business Class fares and troubles of maintaining the Penthouse), summer goes back in to his small study in the attic... and reclines on the old squeaky armchair with a Neruda on his chest. The air fills with gasps and excitement as the gifts come out one by one. Binocular for her nephew and MP3 players(stacked with Ali Akbar) for the baba. The 'I love NY's...

'And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I don't know how or when,
no they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me..'

It will not be very often when you'll remember a Summer. Only this time, I will.

* awestruck *

2008-05-10T23:27:00.001+05:30

"
And love is just a four-letter word and
so is fuck and so is fool how far
did you believe in those stories they
told you as a kid what
is it that makes you sleep now?

"

The woman is brilliant, isn't she? :)