Momentary lapses of Reason

Life of a DBA - Cleaning the DataBase

2009-03-03T05:28:00.001Z

Cleaning swabs., originally uploaded by suprio.

A very recent post that I have liked so much that I feel obliged to add it to my blog. Thanks Anwesha.

http://anwesha.blogspot.com/2009/02/life-of-dba.html

Abstract Monkharap... Well... almost abstract

2009-01-26T12:11:00.005Z

10:27 AM
Made a call at 9:15 in the morning to hear the song of awekening. It sounded so cozy and so endearing and I almost felt warm and happy. Waiting anxiously to continue what I have set in motion long back...

2:15 PM
I made another call and this time the world darkened. As if time had conspired and as if my best friend died. I could barely succeed in keeping from choking over the knot in my chest and my breathing was uneven. (Thank heavens it was over the phone for boys dont cry do they?). I could not believe I was actually feeling a bit good about the episode in a very strange way... It was acting... and I felt God to that act... I was deep within torn between a wish to howl out in pain but there was this civilised me... telling me to be sober and to wish all the best... It was a very disturbing moment... a moment I could have casually avoided with a simple question long back... but how was I to know... you dont know till you ask.... how much you are worth. When you dont say anything it means you havent said anything! and I could bet my right hand that there was no commitment anywhere or between anyone... yet the try to develop something out of thin air was refreshing... I wished all the best with a Rock in my pocket... I will throw it at my luck in leisure.

4:31 PM
The shadow was lifted. All along this span My Earth was in the umbra of the Moon. The Celestrial transpiration to align themselves in line for the importance of the day in my life... spooky! but I just learnt and thought I'd document.
Today My Earth witnessed an eclipse of the Sun. Albeit Partial.

Anti-ageing

2009-01-23T16:00:00.005Z

Raja stared at the haze, the morning coffee steaming in the small porcellean mug that he held to his lips, the morning was yet to begin and the fog yet to dissipate. Presently he looked over his shoulders to witness a colleague light up a ciggerette in the officially "No Smoking" zone and looked back over the lake that was barely a trace in the shifting fog. He thought about the things that has been keeping him aloof and bothered. Something about this fog also bothered him. Actually everything with a bit of intrigue or uncertainty nags Raja. His thoughts were interrupted:

The colleague called out... 'Mr Chatterjee would you like a fag?'

'No thanks! I've been trying to quit you see' Raja said politely and clenched his left fist in his pocket. It is difficult quitting a habit like smoking... but he will try... will he not? It will stop his ageing...says the medical Journal he read somehere.

It was very warm the night before and he had tossed and turned on his bed till 3. The climate was one reason alright but there was something else too. He had thought about the incident that night and wondered if he had been correct. Did he hear clearly? was the person the other end of the line calling him by his name? "Raja".. yet he felt as if it could not have been true... He did not for some reason believe that it was just the name and not "Mr. Chatterjee" as Nupur is used to calling him. That means nothing... He must have been mistaken... she called him Mr. Chatterjee alright... Nobody calls him by my name as he wished they would... he was always Mr. Chatterjee to everyone in office and in para and everywhere... why did he have to be born with that limp and why was he so ugly... he looked 40 and in reality he is only 28... okay 29 then ... no more...

He was happy and very merry in the most infantile way after the conversation which was primarily regarding shifts and Rotas but the note in which it started... 'Rajaaaa... Hello, yes,... this is about the Rota...' it kind of knocked out the words from Raja... he was not that old after all... maybe the turmeric and rosemary paste is helping... What was said in the conversation he did not remember... he had approved of all that was asked and put the phone down in a haze...

He had looked at himself in the mirror and admired the unruly hair that hung about him, gave it a run with his fingers and posed like the bond! Bang! phooooh... he blew the imaginary smoke off the barrel of the imaginary pistol he had made with his index and middle finger... and gave a spin... God! what about tomorrow's shift?!!! Raja was not even sure if he was to go in tomorrow... he wished he would call back Nupur and try and speak about the shifts once again but thought otherwise... maybe this time she will call me 'Mr Chatterjee'... let it be let me bask in the short stint of glory and youth.

His thoughts were interrupted again... Nupur had just joined him on the table at the cafeteria she was with Sangitha Nair... a south Indian Brahmin very talkative and friendly in a good natured way...

'Morning Mr Chatterjee' Sangitha called out over the Vada mouthful...

Raja Hung onto his seat

Nupur was on a phone and was about to hang up ... 'Ok cahlo bye and take care... yes baba will speak soon' She hung up, sipped the steaming mug, turned...

'Good Morning MR CHATTERJEE'

The Sun was finally shining through the fog.

Heart has its reason which reason knows nothing of

2009-01-12T17:45:00.000Z

I remember reading a book Wuthering Heights, a very famous one and the only one written by the author, Emily Jane Brontë, where the female protagonist chooses to marry one of her childhood acquaintance over her love Heathcliff. That, one can ditch love, and marry a person for his wealth and position, and then justify her action saying she wanted to bring Heathcliff out of his misery by helping him seemed too feeble a cause that warranted such a choice. I also ignored many of the dialogues the protagonist says to also show her love for Heathcliff. But today, having seen the world for a good many days more, I feel I must have had a wrong perception.
A person's action is defined by querying the action with where, when, how or even better still as a coordinate in the complicated plane of time and on many more such abstract dimentions. A simple fact that I have been writing this piece of essay in the lines of my present thoughts depends on so many different factors. To elaborate: let me talk about Mother Teresa, who chose to work for poor people in Kolkata and not in Albania, her place of Birth. It could be a more reason defying and a more heart-felt decision on her part and would have been a more plausable introduction to my discussion. To reason it out why I chose to write about Wuthering Heights and not about Mother Teressa, I can say plainly it was emotionaly induced, heart-felt decision which I cannot reason with now. It was a state of my mind where it seemed most logical to have started with the introduction I had started with.
Maybe, down the line, when I am a bit more wise, I would look back at my essay and realise that I lacked any reason why I started off the way I did. My wisdom and my state of mind will then determine whether I had been logical or just another person guided by my heart. And hence the saying Heart has its reason which reason knows nothing of.

Man proposes, God disposes

2009-01-11T11:15:00.005Z

And God said, Let there be light: and there was light- Truly one of the most fascinating statement from the Bible. Hardly was such a saying ever said that makes one wonder the power God has.
Imagine you were God; you wish there was no summer but eternal spring and there is eternal spring, you wish for a snowfall and there would be snow, you wish for singing on the stage holding thousands spellbound and you could do it, you wish that Sundays extend well over 24 hours... now, i dont know what that would take to achieve... well it is just a story isn't it? Nevertheless, lets stick to more practical things: you would wish for a big room with a king size bed and a stereo player playing all the favourite tunes and voila! it was all there [:p], wish that your project lead stops being all too curious why you keep aloof and the next thing you know he is all too professional to even greet you... [:p].
But strange are the ways of God. He grants the simplest of half-wishes and sits back to watch the comedy of errors. For example,
1. He could grant your wish for a small favour you could extend to someone special (only half the wish). Then make sure that the favour is useless(the other half of the wish). You rejoice at your clever thinking and presence-of-mind only to be crestfallen later to learn about the disaster; a small spec of sand could ruin your wish!
Or better still:
2. Make you wait for a dreadful moment of truth/denial during a late night conversation and then leave you wondering at it, still clueless, but with a taste of vague certainty and that uncomfortable feeling of a lull before the storm. Humans are ever so imaginative, they turn facts into things the want to believe, they dont respond to clues but to hard facts!

Picking up on the thread of the topic again: when God has that choice God can make or break, the choice to be or not to be, the choice to give away or to take... I cannot but be wish for a favourable outcome, even when the chips are odd... For when a man proposes it is the God who disposes.

Being Clueless...

2009-01-07T07:03:00.003Z

Sunset through a rear view mirror, originally uploaded by suprio.

My worst fears are realised. Obtrusive as I have been in my show of affection, it has yeided a very dispassionate response. It seems that I might have as well made a fool of myself for no reason. I have been careful to keep my cool and wane slowly away. As expected there were no concerned questions not a single hint of loss or uncertainty nor even a perception of this sudden loss of apathy, only pointless good mornings and customatory exchanges of greetings. I wonder where I might have gone wrong. I am truely clueless. If only someone had a clew to guide me into the unknown... However, I now have a clue to the discovery of the term clue... and I guess I will only have to be satisfied with this knowledge.

Discovery of the word Clue: (Clew)
"Since ancient Greek legends were passed down through oral tradition, many variations of the story of Minos and Theseus and other myths exist. According to one version of the legend, Minos attacked Athens after his son was killed there. The Athenians asked for terms, and were required to sacrifice seven young men and seven maidens every nine years to the Minotaur. One year, the sacrificial party included Theseus, a young man who volunteered to come and kill the Minotaur. Ariadne fell in love at first sight, and helped him by giving him a sword and a ball of red fleece thread that she was spinning, so that he could find his way out of the Minotaur's labyrinth." - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ariadne

`
Nb: I am still clueless 21:03 08-01-2009

Making Proposals Part II - Nearing 30

2008-12-17T07:30:00.001Z

Rings of light, originally uploaded by suprio.

Approaching 30 is like a lifetime achievement and I am not liking it... not at all... seems I have had spent almost the half of my life in "fruit"-less, unimaginative pursuits.

When you are young, you often have the vision of greatness, of doing something purposeful and noble, achieving success... where has all that gone now? I realise with growing disappointment that this situation is not going to change very dramatically and that most of the things I have achieved till date seems pointless in the long run. Perhaps I am doing a Kafka and all his famous existentialism stuff have overwhelmed me. Then again I realise that this feeling is not original and I have had this since my early days... only then, this ideal seemed too absurd to be true. Every time I had this feeling, it has thankfully passed, leaving me in a state of indecisiveness; but every time it had come back again I have been rocked more intensely and the recovery from it seems to be taking longer and longer...

Several of my close friends and confidants, who somehow understand me attributes this growing despair to the fact that I have been too casual about any serious relations that tend to be tying-down. According to them I needed a cool headed companion who could bring some sort of rule into my life, but I disagree. I disagree in spite of the fact that since my article on Proposal Making, the very basis for a good steady affair, I have not had much success. That does not mean that my article was not a masterpiece... just that I have had a rough patch since then... it happens to most people you see... and to be in an affair you need the right person. Until very recently, I had been searching...

Just when it seemed that I might be making some headway, into the ever illusive affair, I am now not sure whether it would be such a good idea to take a plunge again and come out only wet with disappointment. I mean to say, that even if I think that the affair is just gathering momentum, all my previous brushes with this phenomenon hardly is any help in providing any ideas about where I am headed. I could be absolutely wrong in assuming that I have cleverly have conveyed my linking for the individual to this individual, but then again the thick or subtle gestures might have conveyed a completely benign message. I guess i will have to know somehow..but how?

This is the third try and I already like it

2008-11-18T11:14:00.001Z

This is the third try and I already like it, originally uploaded by suprio.

My tryst with 3d photography:
tutorial:
http://www.lhup.edu/~dsimanek/3D/view3d.htm

Memory drops

2008-05-09T14:34:00.001Z

droplet4, originally uploaded by jun_madayag2002.

As the day of my return approach, I feel I have been here for ever. The people back home who await my return fill me with a sense of joy and longing. Oh, it has been quite some time now that I have been oblivious of the daily hassles of life in Kolkata missing the touch of the near and dear ones. Arriving here sometime 2 years back on a bright sunny and colder-than-it-looked day and finding myself in a sea of unknown people with nothing more than a telephone number and a partial address I was horrified at the prospect of making my own way through this unknown country to Bristol. Everything looked impossible. But as someone I know well so aptly put it:

When you have come to the edge
Of all the light you know
And are about to step off
Into the darkness of the unknown,
Faith is knowing that
One of two things will happen:
There will be something solid to stand on
Or you will be taught how to fly.

I set about on the faith that I would be taught to fly. I was not mistaken.

Looking back now, I realise with a sense of nostalgia, I was so keen to have come to this country to see a new way of life that I almost did not take my eyes off the streets I passed in a cab, trying to engage in a social conversation with the Iraqi cab driver. Everything was so different. Streets were so quiet. Nobody seemed to honk. Houses looked so different. I was instantly in admiration for the country I was in, United Kingdom. Life is so easy here it looked.

I was fortunate enough to have worked with a group of people who were very different from each other and had provided me with so many opportunities for learning. It was only the other day that I had met them for the first time and it seems it is strange to be planning a return back without the hope of seeing some of them ever again. Some I will miss, some I will not but the whole idea of going back is now an uncharted territory. This whole mindset made me discover a very disturbing fact about me: I tend to hesitate to make a choice when they are equally balanced, somewhat like my favourite poem 'The road not taken'.

Doomsday?Or a Crimson tide?

2008-03-13T10:44:00.001Z

Doomsday?Or a Crimson tide?, originally uploaded by suprio.

I amaze myself in some ways... Never very tactful and yet very much so... never very thoughtful but that is not entirely true... never serious but always talking from my heart in a friendly careless way... always disconnected from everything around me (no I am no hermit)...I must have been having this thought for some time now, trying to gauge what someone else would think of me... A strange person, seemingly well intentioned but you can never be sure? I have no answers.
It is all too cloudy to think, too complicated to be resolved in an instant... give it some time and surely something could be untangled.
needs revisiting :-)

Be careful of what you say

2008-02-04T11:41:00.000Z

R is a very impatient person and knowing him personally, this habit of his, has enlightened me with the limits of a person's inability to cope with long waits and the degree of it. Having to wait for nearly an hour at the Desntist finally R manged to see the doctor. Natuarally he was very dissatisfied and fired off straight at the doctor:

"I want you to clean my teeth"

A visibly shocked doctor - ".. you mean brush them for you?!"

"Err... " Stammered R taken aback by the unexpectedness of this reply... "... No I mean... Clean them... like "

"Now wait a minute.... That is what I asked isn't it?"

"Noooo... " screamed R desperately trying to find out what he wanted to say ...

Silence.

"I want my teeth lo look very clean without the stains... like the people who do to the dentists and get their teeth cleaned" ... blurted out R, relieved to have made all the effort.

The Doctor looked all the more confused, having offered what he knew to be the best solution. He sat there behind the desk doing nothing.

It was then as if like a divine awekening it dawned upon R that he was not using the clinical term for the request...

"I want my teeth to be scaled..."

"Ah! you could have said so, earlier..."

Saggis have always been oppressed?

2008-01-03T10:14:00.002Z

Saggis have always been opressed?, originally uploaded by suprio.

Nearby is Giambologna's less celebrated marble sculpture Hercules beating the Centaur Nessus (1599) and placed here in 1841 from the Canto de' Carnesecchi. It was sculpted from one solid block of white marble with the help of Pietro Francavilla
Ref: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Loggia_dei_Lanzi

Spams...

2007-08-20T16:34:00.000Z

"hi,
kemon aacho?asha kori bhalo.tumi aamake kemon
bhalobasho bujhte perechi.u re not at all serious abt
me,nahole aamar ekta khobor na niye etodin thakte
parte na."

I stopped on this mail for a moment while clearing out the junk folder today. The sender was none other than the person who once doubted my integrity and severed all ties. Funny that she could mail again and try and rekindle a flame which does not even have a wick to burn on. But it was a moment of triumph... or was it triumph no, but a bit more subtle... a feeling of a spent hope with some splash of nostalgia and bit of feel-good. It was like being acquitted of being blamed of something horrible... Like the feeling that comes to someone who reads the daily newspapers and gets a feeling of "I am not that bad after all....with events like these happening all round I am pretty well off."

I felt a sudden urge to call up that person and plead for this to be over... for good or for bad... but, then again I pause, let her hang in an uncertainty... There is a satisfaction of not replying at all...."Boobar shotru nei..."

Addendum:
---------
Mailing has now picked up some regularity and things dont seem all that messed up now... But I guess it all boils down to the same old poem 'The road not taken' where it says:

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

I did really take the road less travelled by and have initiated a friendly banter which I have not regretted till date... I am not looking to renew the trust that was broken but I am merely giving a space for the other person to breathe. It is not affecting me or taking my time but it is for the greater good and for making one less discontent person... so why not?

Lead by examples?

2007-07-24T15:24:00.000Z

The only thing about some advice people provide me and that which bothers me is the fact that they are hypocrites. They will seldom do what they advise others to do. Take the example of the parents who continuously make a fuss about the lying habits of their children. 'Don't tell lies'- was perhaps the first moral lesson everyone gets as a kid. It's hard to believe that at some point of time peole have not lied in their life. Even the legendary Yudhishtir lied anout Aswathhama during the battle of Mahabharat. People just would not admit that they are deep down hypocrites. The idea is to to do everything and not get caught. But what happened recently has shook my beliefs and has reinstated a belief that most people are hypocrites by mistake and not by choice, and such people try to lead by examples...

SD had been constantly sending out mails and reminders to people about their tendency to speak out in their native languages. Now, it is a common urge for everyone to speak out their dissatisfaction in the language they are adept in... for it is the language that can bring out the emotional state perfectly. Imagine you are frustrated because your bengali girlfriend would not let you hang up for a meeting where your appraisal is made and you have to explain calmly to her in English that you are in a meeting with the bosses looking at you.... It is just too difficult isn't it? SD has no qualms about speaking in Odiya and that too with almost half of the clients turnig round to see where the strange noise is coming from; nevertheless it is English that we all must speak in, even amongst us.

One fine day CL and SB were in a deep argument whether to start the mainframe job at 7:15 pm, after the database backup has been confirmed or to start it at the scheduled time of 7:00 pm and let the job keep trying to connect to the database every 5 minutes until it succeded when SD happened to pass by. CL and SB did not notice him at all but when he stopped briefly and turned around, I braced myself from a cubicle not far away, for yet another round of advice-giving from none other than SD.
I watched him sneak up to the duo and address them in Bengali "Banglay keno kotha bolcho? Tomader kotobaar kore bolechi tomra office-e Engrijitey kotha bolbe. Client bohubaar kore eta niye complain korechey. Tomader jeno aar Banglay kotha bolte na shuni".
Having said that to a very surprised looking CL and SB he turned round to proceed on his way. CL and SB looked at each other as if undecided what to do when I noticed SD stop on his tracks, turn around and head back for the duo.
"Dont speak in Bengali. How many times have I told you to speak in English. This has been escalated many a times by the client. I must not hear you speaking in Bengali again in Office"
Leading by examples I guess...

RT Vs Sivaji The Boss?

2007-07-05T17:04:00.000Z

To me Rabindranath Tagore is The greatest poet to have lived my country and I believe this solemnly. I even get into fights over this with people who might say that perhaps Galib or Tulsidas or even Thiruvalluvar was a greater poet to have lived. I have no hard feelings for anyone with such beliefs and they might even be true in their own ways but somewhere inside I am a very stubborn Bengali who would stand up to anyone when it comes to defending the Bengali valour. Moreover, Rabindranath and his wealth of works are by no means matched by anyone. His complete works would take years to just copy word to word, let alone match them with some original work. The varied themes and the various emotions exhibited by the writings of this great poet knows no limit. Every human emotion has been penned down by this great poet.

So, when Appu Rao spoke with the most indifferent and incredulous voice and with an expression of complete mistrust and disbelief and a shade of disdain on his face -

'Who is this chap Rabindranath?',

I could not take it any more. I bounced back with all the vengeance I had, giving him the facts and figures about the hero, I almost look up as a superhuman supreme being.

In the flow of this heated discussion I even pointed out the fact that Rabindranath Tagore was and is the only nobel laureate in the field of literature from India that he reluctantly accepted the greatness of RT. He left with a deep frown and I heard no more from him in a few days.
Almost 3 weeks later Anna, as we used to call him, came up to me and declared with a finality:

'I was indeed mistaken... Rabindranath is a great hero of our country and we should all salute him...'

Failing to see the ways things are scheming up I decided to be a bit content with my admonitions about Anna's ignorance. It seemed that Anna had said some wonderful words to make my day. Soon a feeling of deep suspicion overcame the feeling as I was dismayed as to how Anna had been so gracious on Rabindranath Tagore. As if in a reflex action, which I regret later, I asked

'How come this change of Heart Anna? You seemed pretty confident that Rabindranath wasnt so great after all.'

'Arrey yesterday I saw Rajanikant praying before a picture of Rabindranath Tagore...'

I did not hear the rest and walked off.

Deja Vu?

2007-06-22T16:22:00.001Z

PS was looking delighted as he banged the front door shut. He waved a piece of paper and had a very satisfied looking smile over his face. PM was just setting down the last of the dhoka vadas from the simmering oil and putting it aside on a plate heaped with the dhokas. I stood slightly inclined supporting much of my bulk on the doorframe that led to the backyard with a ciggerette dangling between the lips. I watched with a growing sense of dejavu. I have seen so many people go back home smiling and bubbling with the memories of Bristol.
It was sometime back that we all came to know of the fact that PS was going for a vacation. We all had been very glad about the fact that one of our roommates is going back to spend some time with his families and friends back home... it kind of made us all homesick for a moment I guess. It has been almost a year round that I have missed so many people back at home. A prolonged telephone call twice a week is all that I have have been left with now to cherish the closeness of the friends and family... then again it would be injustice to cast aside the warmth I have received from the wonderful people I stay with. It is of course something of a revelation to me, having spent all these years within the circle of known and trusted friends and atmospere, that I could adapt and learn the arts of survival and fit in so easily amongst the surroundings. I guess the loneliness here makes everyone a bit more receptive and empathetic towards the ones you somehow know and you tend to build it from there. It is just a question of a few days before you feel very comfortable in a completely new place living with strangers... it is just the matter of time that the trust grows and makes it bearable...just a matter of time.
It is at these moments and the expressions like the ones I witnessed on the face of PS that you are most vulnerable and it might be at those times you would also feel a bit nostalgic and expectant that some fine day you are going to come in through that door waving your ticket back home for a vacation or for good. It is a hurdle, a tough call between home and your career and responsibilities and most importantly some savings. The more you set the decision to go home aside the stronger you grow...

Fact.

2007-05-29T16:51:00.000Z

So its true...
What I fail to understand and comprehend is the fact that
Why would someone choose a friend for you?
Is'nt that bending of a will isn't that weird?
Or was it a willing decision from you?

I looked at these lines and thought that I was a poet. Well momentary lapses of reason I guess...

Axiomatically true

2007-05-04T16:43:00.000Z

Standing with a disgusted look on his face was a Sikh. He held a piece of paper towel in one hand and his glasses in the other. It was just moments ago that some ' Bergdohle ' dropped its dropping on the glasses while flying by. The person was furious. The wife tried pacifying him down..."Achha chalo bhi... ab to ponch lo"
"Woh to Uur gaye aab kiski ponchu?..." replied the man furiously.
At a distance there was another couple trying to go over the safety rope just for the hang of the thrill while the sign clearly read 'Danger. Do not cross'.
The wife was skeptical..."Accha amader ki okhane jetei hobe... besh to ekhanthekei chobi tuliye ni na..."
"Arrey kicchu hobe na dekho na koto lok gechey..." replied the confident husband.
Moments later the husband falls spreadeagled on the slippery snow and the wife retorted "Besh hoyechey tomar sob byaparei barabari..."
Then there was another group of very familiar looking features... the language I could not understand..."....Ninneda ....ille" and what not... looked like South Indians. One of them even smiled and waved at me...
Sparsely I got to see some fair skinned people.... mostly I felt I had been visiting the Hardwaar temple...
I never thought this would be the state of affairs when I stood at the Top of Europe but everywhere you go there is always a Bengali, A Sikh and a South Indian.

Memoirs of a childhood

2007-03-29T17:05:00.000Z

It is so strange that you never seem to forget the places you have spent some of the best times of your life. I studied in a school that did not have its own building. The school was housed in a rented building and was almost too small for all the students. I still remember the packed classrooms and the general din of the voices like a huge bee in its flight. We then moved into our very own school building in Joka when I was in class 7. I have wondered so many a times about how my school would look today after almost 13 years.
Everything seems changed when you visit after a long time and it is inexplicable how you feel about the place. A strange longing for the past mixed with the images that once seemed so life size, makes you nostalgic. I remember I visited the old school building once on my way to a friend's place and memories of my schooldays flooded back. I was amazed to see the pine tree that made a good hiding place during the recess hours' play of hide and seek. The beatlenut trees that lined the boundary walls made me think of the days when a ripe beatle nut from one of those trees would have been a prized possesion, for it made up a good subtitute for a cricket ball! We played with wooden rulers, brandishing them as bats.... Oh! what days they were...
But somehow the dimensions of the building seemed too small for the world we had seen inside it. It felt kind of strange. The building looked small, the colours have faded and many more buildings have come up around the school where we used to have our games class. The vegetation seemed to have changed too. I get these feelings and abstract thoughts every time I went back to some place that held some pleasant memories for me. A sort of alienation and a non-belong-ness keeps lurking in the thoughts as if to say you will no longer get those days back.
I am not sure if I am being very clear about what I really wanted to say but I am sure something like this happens to everyone. You think of the old times and almost before you realize you would be smiling.
I had stopped on my way and entered the old school building only to realize that the school is there no more. The occupants of the house eyed me with grave suspicion when I found it hard to explain what I was doing there inside the building compound standing beside the tube well that used to supply the whole school with cool drinking water, deep in thought. But eventually they must have realized that nothing was missing and they let me go. They even smiled when I told them the history of the tube well and how essential it was for us when we came back from a 6 a side football game during the monsoon

Another Short One

2007-03-29T16:43:00.000Z

Manomita was unhappy. The dark clouds that had gathered from the evening reminded her of the distance that were between her happines and her misery. She remembered that day when the call had come... it was a dark December evening and the winds were chilly. She was returning home from college, IIM Ahmedabad and the phone rang. What followed next was a shameful episode that she could gladly forget but the fear had struck in her heart and she dreaded if it would ever leave her alone. She shuddered to think of it... How could he have known? How could a person sitting hundreds of kilometers away know of that? She was careful not to speak of it even in her dreams but... how?!
Sunil was very precise about it ... no beating round the bush, no small talk but a direct and confident accusation that made her heart skip a beat. She stopped her walk to lean on a parked car to steady herself from the growing empty feeling in her gut. Her voice was unsteady and she had no conviction in what she replied.... but how? who had been speaking? And when Sunil had declared with a finality that he was very disappointed and disconnected she knew she could never call him back. Before she knew she was crying and regretting every moment of the past. Someone passed by and stopped for a moment to see a girl in distress... shook his head and continued on his way... "What a sad world" he thought. What the person did not know was that the girl was not sorry for what has happened but for the fact that she had been careless.Manomita had been ulrta cautious since then. She kept her secrets well and to herself. She walked out of the imposing Building that housed one of the more prestigious Bank near the GPO and started walking briskly as the wind began to grow stronger and cooler dropping the temperature suddenly. She could sense the huge shower which was due and hastened towards the parking lot in the viscinity of the famous Lal Dighi...

Gautam Sinha was a small person, well built and a very good footballer. He had played football for his school in Ahmedabad and was considered to be the best defender of his class. He also have been very successful in interpersonal relationships and had a charm about him that made him a very likeable person to be with. His job for the State Bank Of India was a token of his immense talents as a sportsman and he played football for the Mohunbagan club. It was late in the afternoon when he had finished his day on the field and was going out of the club when the winds picked up. This was the obvious signs of the nor-wester that he has come to witness in this part of India. The temperature has already dropped and the sweltering humidity has suddenly been replaced with a cool dryness. The sky over the Eden Gardens looked pitch black and by the look of it the showers were due any moment. He paused, feeling uncertain about his immediate future plans of riding on his Motor bike home. He decided to take his chances knowing fully well riding in this weather would be very risky and recovering from an ankle injury it would worsen his chances for playing against the arch rivals East Bengal the following week.

Manomita made it to her car just when the first drops of rain hit the roads. She gathered her breath and stared at the hazy windscreen, the drops of water pouring now in splatters. The shower had not picked up yet. She started the car and drove out into the city road taking Outram Road and heading for the south. She passed the Indoor stadium on her right and negotiating the heavy rain which had already made the busy pedestrian infested roads clear of people. She approached the roundabout near the ferry services all the while thinking of the day when she had met...Bang!

The car swerved at the roundabout and skidded off the road and onto the pavement hit a pedestrian and rolled over.The pillion driver who was at the roundabout skidded to avoid the collision and the rider was thrown over... rolled a couple of times and lay still just off the pavement. There was a sudden flare of activity. men came rushing over from the shelters and a bus screeched to a halt.

Manomita could hardly move when she felt gands groping at her... people were shouting and she felt herself pulled out of the car onto the pavement. She regained her senses as the rain hit her face drenching her. Somebody asked whether she could move and she mumbled a faint yes. She tried to sit and then painfully stand up. Hands supported her and she realized that she had a stinging pain in her chest and leg. She could remember faintly the last few moments when she watched in horror as ther car hit a pedistrian. She looked around with an urgency trying to figure out what had happened... then she saw him!

Sunil was being carried away in a waiting taxi blood dripping from his shirt and head. Manomita could not move for what seemed to be an eternity. Then she saw something else... Another man was being carried into another waiting taxi and she faintly remembered the face. She almost stood there shocked! the face came back to her as a flash of lightning tore the sky. She forgot her pain and almost in a trance moved forward and fell unconcious.

Four weeks later when she joined office she was greeted with flowers on her desk. There were a buch of cards and a gathering of colleagues. Hasan the accountant stood there with a twinkle in his eyes which she at once realized... it was a twinkle she had seen many times before and she felt a sudden rush of blood in her face. She thanked everyone for their well wishes and smiled back at Hasan. Lunch was not long and she agreed to have it with him.

Finally when everything had settled down she thought of the incident. Sunil had succumbed to his injuries and was declared Brought Dead at the SSKM. The pillion driver, Gautam... had a head and spinal chord injury and was in a coma. Police had been very helpful. Her front left tyre had burst and they understood that she could have done nothing to prevent what had happened... But deep down Manomita felt a relief... her secret is safe.

Three trucks of ....

2007-03-20T17:07:00.000Z

Nostalgia?
Absurd is it not? But imagine if it were possible... I would have ordered three truckloads of nostalgia. There are times when you feel it, times when you want to be immersed into it, times when you wish you could spend some and make others nostalgic and this is such a time.
Let me see...
One truckload would consist of the days when I was in college spending quality time with friends and classmates, freaking out near Satyanarayan Park in front of an unmarked sweet shop with a bell hanging like the ones you can see in the temples. Oh! Those were the days when you could take extended hours of break from the same classroom that you had studied in for the last three years of graduation, a small mezzanine floor in some dark stairs' landing, where the space was renovated to make room for 30 odd desk-chairs for a privileged group of students who could afford to spend Rupees 1000 to study computer science in a rusty old college in the midst of a busy market.
We were a happy bunch of young people who had dreams and aspirations to make it big like the song papa kahtey hain bara naam karega…. Those long hours at the crampy and smelly common room where we played table tennis for hours or the swelteringly hot hardware laboratory, carved out from the projector room in the college auditorium… those were the days when nothing could have been better. I still remember the strange situation my college professors fell into when I greeted them good morning. Fresh out from the school and thinking in terms of the school discipline it was so weird to have bunked the first Bengali class. (I hope you are keeping a count, the truck is almost half-empty) … I remember the day when I had my first tryst with proper and authentic Bhaang from the sweet shop I had mentioned earlier. For the first hour nothing seemed amiss; then all of a sudden I felt my vision and powers of comprehension begin to play tricks on me, how light I felt… I had to be carried out of the college into a waiting taxi to be sent home with a classmate. I remember how I had the first so-called ragging in the hands of the SFI union where the perpetual Rajuda (who had been there when I joined the college and was still there when I left it 3 years later) had been furious at my disobedience and my strong denial to pay any SFI chandaa. I loved those days. Eating out at some unknown eatery and having a full-fledged adda over a coffee in the famous Coffee House I felt so much accomplished. The aspirations were simple and so were the dreams. Remembered how we planned a picnic that failed to materialize… The trip to Dakhineshwar, following some girl from college for a friend who was blown away by her appearance and beauty.
The second truckload would be for the days of my school and my school friends. The days of school are a joy forever. My first crush, the drama competition where things got very wrong, the games classes and the pranks… I wish now I was a school kid again with no worries about life and loads of time to play and loads of mischief to be made. I remember the first fight at school where I beat a boy half my size and then the severe punishment from the teacher, I remember the prize distribution ceremony from my fourth standard when I secured a third position among a sea of students … ha ha I remember it all. And this is pretty much all about my three trucks of Nostalgia…..
Now wait a minute you will say…
You might wonder… how come it finished so quick…. Well I shared it with you haven’t I? Don’t just lie my dear friend I am sure I did otherwise how come you are left with that dazed look on your face?

Confessions? Well may be...

2007-03-20T10:53:00.000Z

Today it is all sunshine in a land where it is a luxury and the winds have a certain chill about it that would remind you of a moment long lost. But, nothing seemed right. Not even the best of weathers could be enjoyed if you are in such a lousy mood. But you have to accept the reality that you can do nothing about it.
My mind wanders off to a sultry day when the beaches seemed so colourful and the sea so green and there was fun and laugter all around. Pictures of that day were a long lasting memory of what was a reality. The fun and frolick that filled the air that day is a distant memory. That someone got disoriented and preferred thorns to a smooth bed was something I could not have predicted but seriously speaking I had no hand in it... nor did I wish something of that proportion happened; for I was tipsy beyond my own limits. I had been tipsy for the most part of the vacation but that was not out of my habits... I did not trust myself in my normal senses and did not want to spoil the enjoyment.
People were surprised at my bold outlook when I engaged in the delicate craft of preparing a herbal stick and they watched as if it was something they never saw before. I was unfazed and not thinking and to some extent taking pride in my craftmanship. I wish I could have been different a bit more likable in a different sort of way and a bit less transparent in my likes and dislikes. Some say that I always pointedly do and indicate to things that I somehow connect with.
Extremely disadvantageous.
I wish I could have been discreet and an academic studying somewhere in Alaska and yet did not feel cold remembering someone equally discreet.
Disturbing thoughts.
I remember another rainy day when thungris and classical music played on... I remember the strange premonition I had and the strange and meaningful words and looks of a long lost acquaintance (or more of a self proclaimed lunatic and rival) and the uneasiness of a loss staring at my face. I wished I was somehow wrong but alas I say this with a pinch of salt I was so right.
The offer was not official and more personal and the offer took everything from me and bestowed the riches on someone else. Pooh! I was a jelly and a misfit for that gathering.
Please dont try and understand what I have confessed.
SJ was right.
I am too introvert to have said everything in public.

Paris Travelogue

2007-02-27T15:47:00.000Z

২৩শে ডিসেম্বর প্রসেনজিত , হিমাদ্রি, অভ্রদা ও তার বউ সংগীতা আর আমি রওনা হলাম প্যারিসের উদ্দেশ্যে। আমরা অফিস থেকে বেশ তাড়াতাড়ি বেরিয়ে পড়েছিলাম। সিটি সেন্টার থেকে লন্ডনের বাসে প্রথমে গেলাম লন্ডন। সেখানে একটা য়ুথ্‌ হস্টেলে উঠলাম। সকাল ৫:৩০ এ আমাদের পিক্‌আপ ছিল, তাই ৪:০০ এতে ট্যাস্কি বোলে রাখা ছিল। ভোর বেলা ঠান্ডার মধ্যে রেডি হয়াটা বেশ চাপের কাজ। অনেক কষ্ট করে শেষবেশ বাস স্ট্যান্ড এ এলাম। আমরা একটা দোতলা বাসে প্যারিস ঘুরেছি। বাসটা লন্ডন থেকেই আমাদের সঙ্গে সঙ্গে ছিল। বাসে করে প্রথমে আমরা ডোভার গেলাম। ডোভারের পথে অনেক সুন্দর দৃশ্য আমার দেখা হল না। অত সকালে উঠে আর জেগে থাকতে পারছিলাম না। ডোভার হল ইংল্যান্ডের দিকের ইংলিশ চ্যানেলের একটা বন্দর। সেখান থেকে বড় বড় ফেরি ছাড়ে। আমাদের বাসটা একটা বড় ফেরি নৌকায় উঠিয়ে দিল। সেটায় করে আমরা ইংলিশ চ্যানেল পার করে পঁৌছলাম ক্যালে, ফ্রান্সের বন্দর। আমাদের সঙ্গে যারা ছিল প্রায় সকলেই ভারতীয়। সেরম ভাবে কারুর সঙ্গেই আলাপ হয় নি, আমরা আমাদের নিয়েই ছিলাম। ক্যালেতে ভেবেছিলাম হয়ত আমাদের পরিচয়পত্র দেখতে চাইবে কিন্তু তা নয়। পরে জেনেছিলাম যে ফ্রান্সে প্রবেশের সময় পরিচয়পত্র দেখাতে হয় না, বেরনোর সময় দেখাতে হয়। ফ্রান্সে প্রথমেই যেটা চখে পড়ল তা হল যে ওখানকার সব গাড়িরই লেফ্‌ট হ্যান্ড ড্রাইভ আর রাস্তায় গাড়িগুলো উল্টোদিকে চলছে। ভেবে নাও আমাদের বাড়ির সামনের রাস্তায় বঁাদিক থেকে ডানদিকে গাড়ি যাচ্ছে, তাহলে যেরম অদ্ভুত লাগবে ঠিক সেরম অদ্ভুত। ইংল্যান্ডেই বল বা ফ্রান্সে, এখনও অবধি কোনো গিড়িকেই হর্ন দিতে শুনি নি। এত ভদ্রভাবে এখানে লোকজন গাড়ি চালায় যে হর্ন দিতে হয় না। ওভারটেকিঙ্গের জন্য পরিষ্কার নিয়ম আছে। ইংল্যান্ডে যদি সিংগ্‌ল লেন রাস্তা হয় তাহলে ওভারটেক করা চলবে না। দুটো বা বেশি লেনের রাস্তা হলে সবসময় ডানদিক দিয়ে ওভারটেক করতে হবে। শুধু তাই নয় যদি তুমি দেখ যে অনেক দুর অবধি কোনো গাড়ি তোমার সামনে নেই তাহলে তোমায় আবার বঁাদিকে চলে আসতে হবে যাতে তোমার পেছনের গাড়ি তোমায় ওভারটেক করতে পারে। ফ্রান্সে অবশ্য পুর ব্যাপারটাই উল্টো, যেন একটা আয়নার মধ্যে দিয়ে দেখছ। ক্যালে থেকে আমাদের বাস রওনা দিল প্যারিসের দিকে। সবমিলিয়ে বাসে লেগেছিলো ১০:০০ ঘন্টা লন্ডন-প্যারিস তাতে ৫ ঘন্টা শুধু ক্যালে থেকে প্যারিস। বাসে ভিডিও দেখাবার ব্যাবস্তা ছিল। নতুন ডন সিনেমাটা দেখলাম। মাঝে বাসটা একটা হটেলে থেমেছিলো সেখানেই দুপুরের খাওয়া খেয়ে নিলাম। ফ্রান্সে আসার পর ওই প্রথম ভাষা নিয়ে অসুবিধায় পড়েছিলাম। ইংরাজিও বঝে না। ইশারায় কাজ সারতে হলো। খাওয়া দাওয়ার পরে আর একটা সিনেমা দেখলাম, ধূম-২। প্যারিস পঁৌছলাম প্রায় বিকেল ৫টা নাগাত। প্যারিসের সময় আবার ইংল্যান্ডের সময় থেকে এক ঘন্টা এগিয়ে সুতরাং প্যারিসে তখন বাজে ৬টা। হটেলে ব্যাগপত্র রেখেই বেরিয়ে পড়তে হল ডিনার খেতে। আমরা যে ট্যুরের সঙ্গে গিয়েছিলাম তাজ ট্যুর, সেই গাইড আবার রেস্তরঁাটা চেনে না। সে এক কান্ড। ১ঘন্টা এদিক ওদিক ঘুরে শেষে সে একটা ট্যাস্কি ঠিক করল। ট্যাস্কিটা বাসটাকে চিনিয়ে চিনিয়ে রেস্তরঁাতে নিয়ে গেল। ২৪শে ডিসেম্বরের রাতে প্যারিস যা লাগছিলো তা ঠিক বলে বোঝাতে পারবো না। এত ঝলমলে শহর আর এত লাইটিং যে চোখ ধঁাধিয়ে যায়। প্যারিসে যে রাস্তার দুধারে গাছ আছে সেই রাস্তাগুলোর নাম হল এভিনিউ যেমন ধর রাশবীহারি এভিনিউ, আর যে রাস্তার ধারে গাছ নেই সেগুলোর নাম হল রোড। এভিনিউগুলো দিয়ে গেলেই চোখে পড়বে অবিস্বাশ্য লাইটিং। সমস্ত গাছে ছোট ছোট লাইট দিয়ে ডালগুলো সাজানো। রাস্তার উপরে আলোর ঝালড়। সে যেন দূর্গাপুজোর লাইটিং আর তুমি যেন একডালিয়া এভারগ্রীনে পুজো দেখতে বেরিয়েছো। এরই মধ্যে বাটার একটা দোকান দেখে বেশ মজা লাগল। মনে হয়েছিল যেন চদ্দ নং বাসস্ট্যান্ড থেকে বাড়ির দিকে ফিরছি। রেস্তরঁাতে যাওয়ার পথে একঝলক আইফেল টাওয়ার দেখলাম। প্রানে যেন একটা অদ্ভুত আনন্দ হল। কত সিনেমায় দেখা সেই অদ্ভুত টাওয়ারটা সত্যি সত্যি যে কত সুন্দর তা হয়ত ছবিতে বোঝা যায় না। রাতের প্যারিসের আকাশসীমায় সে যেন এক সোনার জ্বলজ্বলে বিশাল তরবারি। চারিদিকের বড়দিনের সজ্জা আর তার সঙ্গে আইফেল টাওয়ার মিলে যেন অকটা রূপকথার জগত্‌। সন্ধ্যা ৬:৩০শে আমাদের ডিনার বুক করা ছিল সেখানে রাস্তা গুলিয়ে ঘুরে টুরে আমরা শেষ বেশ ৮:০০টার সময় রেস্তরঁাতে পঁৌছলাম। রেস্তরঁাটা ভারতীয় খাবার দাবার বানায়। খাবারের ব্যাবস্থা বেশ ভালই ছিল। সব্‌জি, নান, পোলাঊ, মুর্গি,ডাল ও শেষে আইসক্রিম। ভালো করে ঠঁেশে খেয়ে আমরা আবার বেরিয়ে পড়লাম আইফেল টাওয়ারের উদ্দেশ্যে। প্যারিস নিয়ে অনেক কথা লেখা যায়, এরম সুন্দর শহর আগে কখনো দেখার সৌভাগ্য হয় নি। সাধারন বাড়ি গুলোও যেন পৌরানিক যুগের কনো দারুন শিল্পীর হাতে বানানো। শহরের সবকিছুই যেন শিল্প। ছবি দেখে কতটা বুঝতে পারবে তা বলা শক্ত, হয়ত অনেকটাই বুঝবে না। চোখের দেখা আর ছবিতে দেখার মধ্যে অনেক পার্থক্য। চিন্তা কোরো না সুযোগ সুবিধেয় থাকলে তোমাদেরকেও হয়তো প্যারিস ঘুরিয়ে দেখাবো এটাই আমার ইচ্ছে। ঠিক আইফেল টাওয়ারের সিমনেই বয়ে চলেছে Seine(শেন) নদী। সেটায় সকাল থেকে রাত ১টা অবধি ক্রুজ ট্যুর হয়। আমরা রাত ১১টার ট্যুরটা নিয়েছিলাম। আইফেল টাওয়ারের সিমনেই জেটি থেকে আকাশ খোলা একটা বড় ক্রুজ নৌকায় আমরা উঠলাম। শেন নদীর ছবি হয়ত দেখবে এবং বুঝতেই পারবে যে নদীটা বেশি চওড়া নয়। সমুদ্রতল থেকে মাত্র ২৪ মিটার উচুতে বয়ে চলার জন্য নদীটা বেশ শান্ত। নদীটার উপর অসঙ্খ ব্রিজ। সবকটা ব্রিজই আর্চ করা আর প্রত্যেকটাই সুন্দর। প্রত্যেকটারি কোন না কোন ইতিহাস আছে। আর্চ-এর পিলার গুলোয় পাথরের উপর সুন্দর সুন্দর নক্সা করা। নদীর ধারেই সমস্ত বিখ্যাত বিখ্যাত সৌধ, মিউসিয়াম, চার্চ। ক্রুজ ট্যুর শুরু হওয়ার এক মিনিটের মধ্যেই হঠাত্‌ আইফেল টাওয়ারের রূপ একেবারে পাল্টে গেল। সে এক অদ্ভুত দৃশ্য, যেন আইফেল টাওয়ারের গায়ে অসঙ্খ যোনাকী পোকা লেগে রয়েছে। ঝিলমিল করছে আইফেল টাওয়ার। অসঙ্খ ক্যামেরার ফ্ল্যাশের মত আলো জ্বলেই নিবে যাচ্ছে পুরো টাওয়ারের গা জুড়ে। আমরা হৈহৈ করে ছবি তুলতে লাগলাম। প্রসেনজিত আর হিমাদ্রি দুজনেই ভিডিও তুলেছে। কাজলের হাতে আমি যে ডিভিডি টা পাঠাবো তাতে ভিডিওগুলোও আছে। নদীপথে যেতে যেতে বঁাদিকেই পড়ল Grand Palais (গ্র্যান্ড প্যালেস) আর Petit Palais (পেটিট প্যালেস)। এক সময় গ্র্যান্ড প্যালেস ছিল প্যারিসের মিলিটারি বেস এখন এটা একটা মিলিটারি মিউসিয়াম, পেটিট প্যালেসও এখন এটা একটা মিউসিয়াম। নদীর উল্ট তীরেই হল Esplanade des Invalides (ইনভ্যালিদেস্‌ মোড়) এবং Hotel des Invalides (ইনভ্যালিদেস্‌ প্যালেস যেটা এখন একটা হটেল)। একটু এগিয়েই বঁাদিকে পড়ল Champs Elysees (শঁৌঔ দে-লিসে)। এই শঁঁৌঔ দে-লিসে জায়গাটা ঠিক ময়দানের মত, Fort William থেকে ধর্মতলা যেতে যদি ধরে নাও রেড রোড দিয়ে যাচ্ছো আর দুপাশে বড় বড় গাছ, রেড রোড যেখানে শেষ সেখানে যদি একটা ইন্ডিয়া গেট থাকে (Arc de Triomphe আর্ক দি-ট্রায়াম্ফ্‌), সেরম খানিকটা। আবার যেখানে রেড রোড শুরু সেখানে ধর্মতলার মনুমেন্টের মত দেখতে Obelisque (ওবেলিষ্ক), একটা ২০-২২ মিটারের প্রস্তর খন্ড যেটা গ্রীসের রাজার ফ্রান্সকে উপহার। একটু এগিয়ে বঁাদিকে Musee du Louvre (লুভ্‌ মিউসিয়াম) আর ডানদিকে Musee d'Orsay (অর্সা মিউসিয়াম) আর Assembly Nationale (বিধান সভা)। নদীপথে আরও খানিকটা এগিয়ে বঁাদিকে হল Saint Michele Notre Dame (নটার ডেম)। এখানথেকে অমাদের নৌকটা ঘুরলো। নটার ডেম একটা ব দ্বীপের উপর। অমাদের নৌকটা সেই ব দ্বীপের ওপাশ দিয়ে ঘুরে ফিরল। ব দ্বীপের ওপাশের তীরে পড়ল Hotel de Ville (ভিল প্যালেস যেটা এখন একটা হটেল)। দেখতে দেখতে কখন এক ঘন্টা কেটে গেছে টেরও পাই নি। রাত ১২:১০ এ আবার আমরা আইফেল টাওয়ারের সামনের জেটিতে ফিরে এলাম। ঠান্ডায় হাতপা জমে যাচ্ছিল আর কুয়াশার জন্য আইফেল টাওয়ারের চঁুড়াটা দেখা যাচ্ছিল না। সেদিন আর কিছু দেখি নি। হটেলে ফিরে গরম জলে চান করে শুতেশুতেই ঘুম। সকালে ব্রেকফাস্ট হটেলেই দিয়েছিল। পঁাউরুটি, জ্যাম, মাখন, চিজ, ফলের রস, চা, কফি, দুধ, কর্নফ্লেক, হ্যাম ও বেকন্‌ স্লাইস। দেড়েমুষে খেয়ে অমরা অবার বাসে করে বেরিয়ে পড়লাম, দিনের বেলায় আইফেল টাওয়ার দেখতে। সেখানে পঁৌছে আমরা আইফেল টাওয়ারের দর্শন পেয়ে মহিত হয়ে গেলাম। একটা পায়ের থেকে অন্য পায়ের দুরত্ব প্রায় ১৫০ ফুট। আমাদের বাড়ির দরজা থেকে ওপারের তেলেভাজার দোকান যতখানি, প্রায় ততটা। আইফেল টাওয়ারের উচ্চতা ১২০ মিটার। ঠিক ১৫০ মিটার পেছনে হল Champs de Mars (শঁৌঔ দে-মার), একটা মিলিটারি স্কুল। ১৫০ মিটার পেছনে থাকার কারন:- যদি কোনদিন আইফেল টাওয়ার পড়ে যায় তাহলে যেন স্কুলটা বঁেচে যায়। আইফেল টাওয়ার তিনটে ভাগে বিভক্ত, চারটে পা থেকেই লিফ্‌ট উঠেছে দোতলা অবধি। এখন শুধু উত্তর দিকের পায়ের লিফ্‌টটাই চালায়। প্রথম তলায় একটা বড় রেস্তরঁা আছে। অত্যন্ত দামি। দোতলায় কয়েকটা দোকান আছে, ছবি, ম্যাপ ইত্যাদি বিক্রি করে। আমরা একেবারে দোতলায় চলে গেলাম। সেখান থেকে আবার আরেকটা লিফ্‌টে গেলাম একেবারে উপরের তলায়। পুরো প্যারিস শহরটা একটা প্রকান্ড ম্যাপের মত দেখাচ্ছিল উপর থেকে। আমরা অনেক ছবি তুল্লাম। দোতলা ও একতলা থেকেও ওনেক ছবি তুলে অমরা সকাল ১২:৩০ নাগাথ রওনা দিলাম (Château de Versailles)ভারসাই প্যালেসের উদ্দেশ্যে। ভারসাই প্যালেস পঁৌছলাম যখন তখন প্রায় ১:০০। মনে পড়ে মাইশোর প্যালেস? এটা সেটার থেকে প্রায় তিনগুন। প্যালেসটাতে ১০০০টা থাকার ঘর আছে আর প্যালেসের পিছনের মাঠটার কোন শেষ দেখা যায় না। প্যালেসের নিজস্ব একটা জঙ্গল আছে যেখানে রাজারা শিকার করতে যেত। এই প্যালেস মিত্তাল ভাড়া করেছিল মেয়ের বিয়েতে !!! লোকের কত টাকা হলে সেটা করতে পারে তাই ভাবি। আমরা প্যালেসের একটা গাইডেড ট্যুর নিয়েছি। প্যালেসের এক একটা ঘরের এক একটা গল্প। সেসব লিখতে পারলাম না, একটা গোটা উপন্যাস হয়ে যাবে। ৩:৩০ নাগাধ আমরা অকটা দোকান থেকে একটা করে বড় বার্গার খেয়ে দুপুরের খাওয়া সেরে ফেল্লাম। প্যারিস ফিরতে ফিরতে ৬:০০ বেজে গেল। এবার আর ভুল না করে আমাদের গাইড সোজা সেই ইন্ডিয়ান হটেলে নিয়ে গেল। আগের দিনের মত ঠঁেশে খাওয়া দাওয়া করে আমরা ৮:০০ নাগাথ বাসে করে প্যারিসের বিভিন্ন যায়গা ঘুরতে লাগলাম। প্রথমেই যাওয়া হল Champs de Mars (শঁৌঔ দে-মার)। সেখানে আমরা নেমে ছবি তুল্লাম। আইফেল টাওয়ারের আরেকবার দর্শন হয়ে গেল। তারপর আমরা গেলাম Invalides (ইনভ্যালিদেস্‌ প্যালেস যেটা এখন একটা হটেল)। এখানেও নেমে অমরা ছবি তুলেছি। তারপর যাওয়া হল Ritz Hotel (রিজ্‌ হটেল)। এই হটেলেই ডায়না তার জীবনের শেষ রাত কাটিয়েছিল। হটেলের ঠিক সামনে একটা চৌক মত জায়গা বরং বলতে পারো যে হটেলটা একটা চৌক মত জায়গার এক কোনে। সেই জায়গাটাতে নেপলিয়ন-এর স্ট্যাচু রয়েছে। এখানেও নেমে অমরা ছবি তুলেছি। তারপর আমরা গেলাম Palais de Chaillot (শ্যালো প্যালেস)। এখান থেকে আইফেল টাওয়ারের সবথেকে সুন্দর ভিউ পাওয়া যায়। সেখানে ক্ষনিক সময় কাটিয়ে আমরা গেলাম Arc de Triomphe আর্ক দি-ট্রায়াম্ফ্‌ । এখানে Gateway of India র মত অকটা সৌধ আছে। এটা আবার প্যারিসের সবথেকে ব্যাস্ত মোড়। ১০টা রাস্তা এখানে মিশেছে (খানিকটা শ্যামবাজারের মত)। নেপলিয়নের উদ্দেশ্যে তৈরি এই সৌধের মাঝখানে অকটা আগুন সবসময় জ্বলে। যদি Day of the Jackal সিনেমাটা দেখে থাকো তাহলে এটা সেই জায়গা যেখানে চার্লস্‌ দি গলকে মেরে ফেলার কথা ছিল। একটা জিনিস দেখে বেশ তাজ্জব হয়ে গেলাম যে ঐ মোড়ে কোনো ট্রাফিক সিগনাল নেই যেটা ঠিক করে দেবে কোন রাস্তার গাড়ি কোথা দিয়ে যাবে। সেখান থেকে আমরা সেদিনের মত ঘোরার শেষ ঠিক করে হটেলের পথে পাড়ি দিলাম। রাস্তায় লুভ্‌ মিউসিয়ামের একবার দর্শন পেলাম। সব ছবি তোলা আছে। পরের দিন সমস্ত দিনটা আমরা প্যারিসের ডিসনিল্যান্ডেই কাটালাম। সকালে যথা রীতি গান্ডে পিন্ডে ব্রেকফাস্ট করে নিয়েছিলাম কারন সেদিন আর ডিনারের ব্যবস্থা ছিল না। ডিসনিল্যান্ডে আনন্দ প্রচুর হয়েছে। নানারকম রাইড ছিল। নিক্কো পার্কের মত জায়গা তবে একটা বেহালার মত বড় জায়গা জুড়ে এই যা তফাত। দুপুরে এখানেই বার্গার খেয়ে খিদে মিটিয়ে নিলাম। পুরো পার্কটা দেখতে দেখতেই রাত ৯:০০ বেজে গেল। আমরা একটা ছোট রেস্তরঁাতে রাতের টুক টাক খাওয়া সেরে আমরা হটেলে ফিরে এসেছিলাম। পরের দিন ফেরার কথা। সকালে খানিকটা সময় ছিল তাই সকাল সকাল একটা প্রকান্ড ব্রেকফাস্ট সেরে আমরা গেলাম Saint Michele Notre Dame (নটার ডেম) দেখতে। ২৬শে ডিসেম্বর বলে নটার ডেম চার্চ বন্ধ ছিল। আমরা বাইরে থেকেই ছবি তুল্‌লাম। তখন বাজে প্রায় ৯টা। সেখান থেকে আমরা গেলাম Musee du Louvre (লুভ্‌ মিউসিয়াম)। লুভ্‌ মিউসিয়ামও বন্ধ ছিল তাই আমাদের আর মোনা লিসার সেই বিখ্যাত ছবি আর দেখার সৌভাগ্য হল না। মিউসিয়ামটা এতই বড় যে লোকে বলে পুরোটা দেখতে গেলে ৭ দিন লেগে যাবে। আমরা বাইররে থেকেই ছবি-টবি তুল্‌লাম। লুভের সেই বিখ্যাত কঁাচের পিরামিডের ছবিও তুলেছি। লুভের তলায়, মানে বেসমেন্টে অনেকগুলে খাবারের দোকান ছিল। সেখান থেকে আমরা ফ্রেন্চ ফ্রাই আর অকটা করে বড় বার্গার কিনে নিলাম দুপুরের খাবার হিসেবে। বেলা ১২:০০ নাগাথ আমরা ফেরার পথে রওনা হয়ে পড়লাম। সেবারের মত শেষ বার আইফেল টাওয়ারের দৃশ্য দেখে নিয়ে প্যারিসকে জানালাম বিদায়। ক্যালেতে পঁৌছলাম সন্ধ্যা ৬টা নাগাথ। সেখানে ইমিগ্রেশন্‌ হল। আমাদের পাসপোর্টে ফ্রান্সের ভিসার ছাপ পড়ল। আবার সেই একি রকম লন্চে করে আমরা ডোভার পঁৌছলাম। আমি ডোভারের থেকে লন্ডনের পথে আবার ঘুমিয়ে পড়েছিলাম। লন্ডন পঁৌছলাম রাত ১০:৩০ নাগাথ। প্যারিস যাওয়ার সময় যে য়ুথ্‌ হস্টেলে উঠেছিলাম সেইখানেই আমাদের বুকিং ছিল। বাস স্ট্যান্ড থেকে ট্যাস্কি নিয়ে সেই য়ুথ্‌ হস্টেলেই উঠলাম। আমরা সবাই একদিনের ছুটি নিয়েছিলাম, পরের দিন তাই প্ল্যান করা হল গ্রিনউইচ্‌ ঘুরে আসা হবে। এই গ্রিনউইচ্‌ দিয়েই আমাদের পৃথিবির মুখ্য দ্রাঘিমা রেখা (Prime Meridian Longitude 0 degree) যায়। সকাল সকাল বেরিয়ে আমরা প্রথমে গেলাম সেন্ট্‌ পলস্‌ ক্যাথেড্রাল চার্চ। সেটার সঁিড়িতে বসা অবস্থায় আমার একটা ছবি পাবে। তারপর সেখান থেকে আমরা গেলাম লন্ডনের বিখ্যাত টাওয়ার ব্রিজ দেখতে। ব্রিজের পাশেই লন্ডন টাওয়ার, একটা পৌরানিক ক্যাসেল্‌। সেখান থেকে আমরা একটা লন্চ নিয়ে আমরা টাওয়ার ব্রিজের নিচ দিয়ে পাড়ি দিলাম গ্রিনউইচের উদ্দেশ্যে। এখানে অবশ্য নদীপৃষ্ঠে সেরম দেখার কিছু ছিল না। গ্রিনউইচে পঁঁৌছে আমরা গেলাম গ্রিনউইচ্‌ মুখ্য দ্রাঘিমা অবসারভেটরি। সেরম কিছু দ্রাষ্টব্য ছিল না ঔ অবসারভেটরি থেকে একটা লেসার বিম বেরোয় মুখ্য দ্রাঘিমা রেখার প্রতিক হিসাবে, সেটার ছবি তুল্‌লাম। ফিরতে ফিরতে ৫:৩০ বেজে গেছিল। আমরা য়ুথ্‌ হস্টেল থেকে আমাদের জিনিষপত্র নিয়ে চলে গেলাম ভিক্‌টরিয়া কোচ স্টেশন। সেখান থেকে ৬:৩০এর বাসে করে ব্রিস্টল ফিরে এলাম রাত ১০:০০ নাগাথ।

A travelogue in transit

2007-02-27T15:34:00.002Z

I boarded an aircraft for the first time in my life and it was really some mind-blowing experience watching the landscape like a contour map right below... The flight was from Kolkata to Delhi in a Jet aircraft. The landscape of Kolkata with lights (it was 8:45 in the evening) was amazing.
Dotted lights of cars and street lights looked very much like the army of ants marching through the network of paths that crosses and formed a mesh… I was staring intently out of the window like a school kid of four watching as the view of his parents receded on the bus stop when the school bus gathered speed. I felt a pang of grief, which was interrupted by the singsong voice of an airhostess who was offering some sort of handkerchief roll to the passengers with a pair of tongs. Unsure about what to do I looked at my adjacent passenger and he was unrolling the hanky and looked pretty sure about his surroundings… "Cold towel Sir" insisted the airhostess and without further ado I took one. As if quite confident, I unrolled it, all the while watching the person wipe his hands and face with it… I proceeded t do the same making sure I finish after him and do as he does… I felt silly. But it was too late and I had nobody to turn to for help… The person next to me folded the towel and pushed some switch above his head. A small light lit up and I hear a faint ring somewhere in the back. As if by magic an airhostess arrived and switched off the light … this did not seem to bother the fellow passenger and he proceeded to order some fruit juice… It suddenly became clear…the switch was some form of a calling bell and the light indicated who pressed it… Fancy gadgets I wondered and proceeded to look out the window…
Much of that flight was then uneventful, except for the fact that I did… what my fellow passenger did; making sure that I do not arouse the suspicion that I was a first time flier.… Oh yes I did not call the airhostesses once during my flight while my fellow passenger seemed to have taken up an oath to not let the pretty girls off the hook for a moment. Fruit juice, water, blanket, pillow, magazine, water, fruit juice… and he was constantly on to something… Antd then there was this "hot towels" and another bout of "cold towel" game…After almost four hours (one hour behind the scheduled arrival time as there was no clearance) I landed in Delhi… A bus awaited the disembarking passengers and took us all to the Baggage collecting area of the Indira Gandhi International Airport Domestic terminal. Then after another wait for about half an hour I finally collected my luggage and stepped out of the airport gates… Delhi. My first visit to the capital.
Delhi had lived up to its reputation of being the most corrupt place in India other than the fact that it was also the capital... I finally got out of the airport to meet this Sikh swindler (could you believe it? and we joke about them on their lack of intelligence!!) ... He was about to mug me when I realized something was utterly wrong and this person was no prepaid taxi driver as he had claimed. I managed to get hold a cop at the airport premises and the cab driver (or whatever he was) just vanished in no time. Then there was this genuine prepaid taxi driver who did not know where he was supposed to take me... again a cop came to my rescue and guided me to the USI residency (the place that was booked for my overnight stay). The taxi driver bragged for some tip (on a prepaid taxi!) and it was only when I gave him some twenty bucks that he finally let go of the last of my luggage!
The stay at the hotel was good... and then they had a complimentary drop at the international terminal of the Airport... then on, it was a piece of cake.... After all domestic flights teach you everything about aeroplanes and you can rest assured that I had a good teacher in my fellow passenger….Checking in took almost an hour as there was this high alert for the recent sub-way bombings in UK and on top of that some senseless Delhi airport personnel tore off my through check-in tag from my luggage. I was dismayed when I got to know that my coveted window seat was no more available. I quarrelled about it and finally sympathetic personnel upgraded my economy class seat to a flat-bed one. I was not sure what that meant though but I was satisfied with the words… "We are sorry sir, I will upgrade your seat to a flat-bed one"… I felt victorious. The whole process of immigration check and finally boarding the plane took more than 2 hours. It was then to my utter surprise and joy, I understood what a flat-bed seat meant. The flat-bed was a single seat with a small stool to rest your feet… with a personal folding table, your very own video screen and your very own reading light… There were some fancy switches and after some investigation and help from the airhostess I realized that the seat could be aligned to meet the stool and form a full-length bed! I could want nothing more… after such tiring journey last night and arriving to the airport at 6:30 in the morning all that I could possibly think of was a sleep… Before the British Airways flight was even fifteen minutes into its flight I was sound asleep under a very comfortable blanket and a soft pillow.
I rose with a start realizing that a British airhostess was calling me. I woke and groggily saw that breakfast was being served… I looked at my watch and realized that it was 10:30 and I have slept for over two hours. I was ver unsure about what t take and finally decided upon a full English breakfast with Ham and scrambled eggs served with freshly baked loaves and butter. Having finished the breakfast within minutes (I was really hungry for I had no opportunity to have any food in the morning). Coffee was served and having finished that too I felt the need for a wash room. I proceeded towards one and it was only then that I had a view through a window… and I let out a gasp! The landscape below was incredible…I realized that we were perhaps flying over Sindh for the landscape matched very much like the one I had seen so many a times in the Atlas. The snow-capped mountains in Pakistan and Afghanistan, with channels of rivers flowing between them like the strings, looked more like some geography drawings from up above. It was amazing....
Finally I found a wash closet … The aeroplane wash closets are great (I mean to say that they are very efficiently and cleverly designed but a bit claustrophobic). I had some trouble finding the right kind of tissue paper for the right job…I had champagne for the first time in my life. It was wonderful... (they serve that on BA but I am not so sure about AI) I had three glasses before I felt I was becoming tipsy and out of bounds... with complimentary drinks... it is always a problem with people like me :-) you can never have enough.... ;-)
My flat-bed seat allowed me to sleep for about 4 hours which had definitely put me in the right groove...(I hardly had any jet lag and adjusted effortlessly into the different time zone). All thanks to the stu**d personnel at the Delhi airport who accidentally tore off my check-in luggage tag and as a result I had the upgrade into the flat bet from a normal window seat (chuckle).Finally, I landed in Heathrow… on the land where the sun never used to set… I collected my luggage from the baggage collection conveyer and proceeded for the clearance… The immigration was very quick and before I realized what was happening I was cleared and I was out of the airport. It was almost 1:40 p.m. GMT and I felt relived to have arrived to this country at last after such a wonderful experience of riding the plane for the first time (second if you consider the break at Delhi).
Bristol, the city of my destination, is a nice small town in the Avon district of UK (South-South-West of London). The closeness to the sea attributes to the moderate climate of this place... There is a city centre with a memorial like the martyr memorial in Delhi, where people place poppies and orchids on national holidays to salute the brave soldiers who died fighting to subjugate the other nations (sic). There is a central bus station named Marlborough (like the Dharmotollah but much too small and much too sparkling in the appearance and cleanliness). This was where I disembarked first on Bristol after a 3-hour bus journey from Heathrow (I had been sleeping a good 2 hours on that journey).
There are a lot of pubs in the city centre and some of them are pretty interesting (now dont jump to conclusions... I have only heard). Then there is a railway station by the name Templemeads that offer train links to various parts of London and UK. The Heathrow has a train station too that links Bristol via Paddington St. On an average each of the houses (a maximum of three storeys high, ours is a two storey one) has a lawn… and a backyard the size of a badminton court. The one we have has been cared in ages and now tall grasses adorn the backyard adding to the misery of having moths and other such birds (sic) flying in the house at night.Immigrants drive most of the cabs here and an Iraqi drove the one, which I took from the bus stop. He was a very friendly guy in about 40s and was very generous in offering me a lighter as a gift when I asked for a light. He was genuinely impressed at the statement that I was on a company deputation from India and that I have a Master's degree in Computer Science at such a (according to him) "tender age" (lol). He was kind enough to offer me some good advice on how to get about living in the UK and where all I could get good bargains. He even advised me to get a bicycle and use it as transportation to and from the office. He was all praises for the Indian Mango pickle and how his lunch is incomplete without it! And the spices that make his curry mouth-watering...
I had reached my house (the one I would share with 3 others) at about 5:30 in the evening and had to wait outside for everyone was at the office (I arrived on a weekday). Finally, at around 6:15 people came back and I moved into the warmth of the house.

A Short Story

2007-02-27T15:34:00.001Z

Partho watched another train go by… It was the 3:15 local that was late. He had watched it from a distance moving into the station in a centipede like motion. The turn near the station was always something of a treat to watch. The trains made a sort of loop before entering the small station of Payera Danga and that turn made the train look amazingly like a snake or a centipede in motion. His train was late again and he was restless. He would miss the ferry and would have to depend on the conditions of the road before he could reach Burrabazaar. Ratan-da would be waiting for him to come and deposit the cash, he safely carried in the bag that he clutched tightly…
Weather was another concern for him, it was dark and wet. Even at that hour of evening it seemed almost late evening. The drizzle had presently stopped and he felt drenched. This money was all he had.
Four months back he had loaned a handsome amount of money… 10 thousand to be precise from Ratan-da. It was with this money that he wanted to start his sweet shop in the lines that Ratan-da had advised him. After all Ratan-da was an accomplished sweetmeat seller in Burrabazaar and had profits close to a lakh per month. Partho had learnt the tricks of the trade from none other than his idol Ratan Shau, once a local gangster and a friend of his father. After Partho’s father passed away a couple of months back, the only source of steady income for his family that comprised of only him now, has come to a full stop. His father used to work as the accountant at a local grocers’ and made just enough to make a living for the two of them. It would be unwise to say that Partho had a way with the local people. Twenty-three years of existence under his belt, he was a terror of the local people. He worked alone albeit under Bishu and spearheaded various acts of vandalism and fistfights in Payera Danga. But after his father passed away and he was left with nobody to abstain him form his rogue lifestyle realization in the form of sanity dawned upon him. He saw Ratan Shau turn into a moneylender with his business flourishing and wanted to replicate the success story. The day the cremation got over he had gone straight to Bishu and expressed his willingness to turn into a sweetmeat seller. Bishu had obviously been very amused at first and tried persuading him to continue with his older profession but Partho was adamant. Bishu tried entreating him even offered him a full salary of Rs. 800 a month to continue working for him but that was not to be. Finally when nothing seemed to have come out of the discussion Bishu threatened Partho of dire consequences to which Partho laughed at and walked straight out. That was days ago. He had heard nothing from Bishu since.
He had in the meantime set up his own thatched roof shop near the station and sold sweets. Business was not good initially for he was a marked goon, but it slowly picked up and by the end of his second month it was doing well. Being the only sweetmeat shop near to the station people often brought sweets on arrival or while departing for a visit to some relations. He had spent only a thousand for his shop and bought it from the old fisherman who dreaded Partho. Investment was minimal and with a couple of thousand more he had the full furniture ready complete with a glass display and a couple of benches. Raw materials arrived from the neighboring Madanpur and he made the sweets himself. He had been able to save about 7 thousand from his sales in four months and decided to return the money he had borrowed.
He presently moved out of the platform shade and strolled impatiently and pointlessly looking every now and then at the large electronic clock at the platform. Another couple of intent eyes scanned him from a distance.
The platform was mostly deserted. It was after all a very murky day with intermittent drizzling. There were very few unfortunate people who had some important assignments in other places waited for their trains to arrive.

-*-

Bishu needed money… and urgently. He had never thought that of all people Partho would desert him. Now that he needed some fresh blood to take care of his fast waning popularity; he was stranded. He knew the day Partho had walked out on him was the start of his fall. He had resented Partho since then and vowed revenge. He had sported a new look with a complete beard and a back-brush, which indeed changed, how he looked. He wanted to start afresh but he needed money now… needed it bad for there was his sister’s wedding and it should be some affair for everyone to speak about. He had been to Ratan-da after he came to know that he had helped Partho. He expected honor amongst thieves but to his dismay he returned empty handed. The collections from the local shops were of not much help either… moreover he has lost a good amount of territory after Partho left and had no longer the muscle power to regain his territories back. But one good thing he learnt from his visit to Ratan Shau, Partho would be in next week to return the money… and he made up his plan.
He watched from a distance covered in a raincoat as the tall figure moved about the platform. He knew what was in that bag. His new henchman Ali stood a bit further away from where Bishu stood and was drawing on the beedi intently. He was hardly in his twenty… This lad has promise, thought Bishu looking at Ali… But what he was about to do would test the steel in him. Partho was no ordinary target. He was well versed with all of this.
Somehow Bishu could not accept his present situation and believed axiomatically that his present woes are the direct consequences of Partho leaving him. He froze. Partho looked at him and then past him and he breathed again…
There was a distant whistle of an approaching train and he moved… Ali followed his motion and together they started approaching Partho.

-*-

The train snaked past the loop and approached the station decelerating. The announcement sometime back relieved Partho that his train was approaching. He let out a sigh of relief and walked towards the edge of the platform and again watched the train snake by the loop. It never failed to remind him of the childhood thoughts of a giant snake making its way towards the waiting preys…
The train was close now. He truned to move away from the edge and bumped into someone…
He felt a tug for his bag and before he could realize what was happening someone pushed him off the edge of the platform. Time seemed frozen for a moment as Partho helplessly tried to grab something in the thin air. He felt his bag gone. And in split of a second he saw a face that looked somewhat familiar. He knew who it was! But then it was too late… The train has come into the station and he fell as if for an eternity…

Love in August -- 8th August 2005

2007-02-27T15:31:00.000Z

*** 8th August 2005

9:30 AM.
--------
Subhankar was in great distress. Sitting cramped in the small space of the mini bus seat he switched his stance clearly bothered by the lack of leg space in front of him. Those who had only seen him would take him for an ordinary and not so intelligent person. That was how he looked. But that would be a mistake. Subhankar was a fair and was well built. Body building has always been his passion and without a forty minute jogging and stretching in the morning he would be sick. Having completed his MBBS from the Medical College Kolkata last year he was associated with the SSKM Hospital as an intern and he was damn intelligent. He only had a pronunciation difficulty for the letter "S", the kind you will find common in people from Burdwan (no malice intended) and that seemed to be his only problem and negated his smartness to some extent.
It would be difficult to get down negotiating the way through passengers onboard he thought, as he made adjustments to how he sat. There was something else that bothered him very deeply. For the last two weeks he had been trying to engage himself in a conversation with this girl, Deboti, but it always turned out that since the accidental introduction to her two weeks back when he had helped her with some change, she has made up her mind not to look his way or speak to him. Staring two seats ahead of him he made out the slender neck and her neatly tied hair yet again. Her ears were so white and looked so soft that the fashionable earrings seemed too heavy for them. He saw her rise from her seat and knew he should also be doing the same. Getting out after a lot of difficulty and making sure that he stayed just behind Deboti, he made his way to the gate. When he got down at SSKM following Deboti, he deliberately crossed her and kept walking fast till he reached the entrance of the hospital. He was disappointed. He had hoped that somehow Deboti would call him and they would talk about... what? He did not know but he wished she would call him. Deboti did not call. He watched as he entered the hospital gates, Deboti kept on walking and then crossing the street went in her college Gokhale. Enough is enough; he decided to consult Sailen that evening.

7:40 PM.
--------
"What do you mean you cannot muster courage?" Sailen was saying with a look of disbelief. "You perform all the dangerous operations everyday, you take all tough decisions concerning the life and death of your patients everyday and you tell me you are afraid?"
Sensing the touch of incredulity in his voice Subhankar could not help but make a sorry face and a gesture of helplessness. The idea of walking up to Deboti in a packed bus and taking the initiative to request her to hold his bag was too much, thought Subhankar. The idea had some purpose but the cat needs to be belled before the reactions could be judged. Cutting up corpses or treating a third degree burn patient seemed far more comforting. "No, I am really helpless Sailo... I would surely make a blunder of things and perhaps there is no use..."
"Then it is over, thank God! You don't really want to talk to Deboti and take your acquaintance to another level..." Sailen cut in "If you want something really bad then you should not let your ego get on top of you... rather ease yourself and be positive... I am not advising you to give up your self respect but be a little bold for 'No risk no gain'" he remarked with a wink.
"What do you think she would do?" Subhankar asked.
"Look Subha, this is no algebra that you can equate, it is real life. You may predict something but things might not go that way. You can never know what the other person might be thinking by not knowing the person at all.... even if you know the person for a long time it hardly will give you any clue ... at the most you might just predict from your experiences. You cannot expect her to just understand you and accept you as the introvert you are." started Sailen, "About the options she has, she can a) refuse to hold your bag... b)Ignore you or c) hold your bag. The worst is if she refuses and the best is that she holds your bag. You would have then made what it is technically called your 'Contact'. If everything goes fine then you could extend your conversations in bits and pieces like isn't it very hot today? And the sorts...Surely she would not be so reserved that she would not talk"
"What do you mean introvert?" Subhankar fumed "and what if she decided to go fuzzy?"
"Look let's not deviate from what we had been discussing... you tell me that you cannot speak your mind and yet I cannot call you an introvert... that is funny. You will have to speak up and let you mind out or else you will be left sulking forever" Sailen said with finality, "Moreover if she decide to ignore you and pretend that she did not hear you that might just be as good.... she also might be trying to speak to you and is shy... and if she ignores then you cannot throw away this angle".
Subhankar could not make out how cold-shoulder is going to bring some positive outcomes but did not say it. Saying it loud would mean a lengthy discourse and an almost-brainwashing session with Sailen. Feeling desperate now, he decided "... that's it; I will have to do as Sailen says and take my chances..."

Love in August -- 11th August 2005

2007-02-27T15:30:00.002Z

*** 11th August 2005

10:20 AM.
---------
"My God! Sailo you are a genius!! You are a Love Guru! You are a soul reader..."
Sailo had to literally cut short Subha on the phone "...Thank you Subha... Yes but.... STOP. Will you PLEASE tell me why you are acting this way?"
"I did as we planned... I boarded the bus and saw her sitting and walked straight up to her and handed her my bag." Subha said in a single breath, obviously enjoying the effect of the words on me, for his voice carried that savoring, that suspense a person might show when he is very excited.
"What happened then?" Sailo asked, "Surely Deboti had thrown the bag out of the window?"
"Stop bugging and listen, will you?" Subha's voice sounded hurt. "She asked for my mobile number..."
"What! What have you done my dear friend! She asked for your mobile number on your first real meet?!!..."
"Actually she wanted some help from me... She knew from our brief introduction that I was a doctor. She wanted me to help her get through in some reputed hospital for a project she is doing on Nutrition and Health..."
"Oh!"
"No, no listen, this is not the end of it..." continued Subha hurriedly, "we talked for about FIVE minutes..."
Sailo was at the end of his wit and suppressed a giggle but he also had a pity for Subha who, he knew was a gem of a person. He could have easily punctured the balloon of hope Subha has so carefully built but decided it was too early to actually discourage his best friend. "Tell me the story" is all that he said.

9:10 AM.
--------
Subhankar was nervous. He could feel his palms go moist with as he neared the bus stop. Benefits of his low BMR, a direct consequence of his regular exercise, seemed to have deserted him and he felt very awkward within. What if she was not on the bus like the last two days? What if Deboti was on the bus and refused to hold the bag? He thought about it and then smiled... at least that would give him some solace that he tried... yes, Sailo was right a contact has to be made before anything else sets in. All he needed was a good conversation so that he may present his case before her.
He saw the bus come to a stop and to his surprise and relief the bus had no seats left. It happened very rarely as he boarded the bus form the stop next to the stand. Usually there would be seats but today there were none... he had never believed in the forecast section of the Telegraph magazine but he had looked it up yesterday after he had made up his mind to go through with Sailo's suggestion. The magazine promised new and exiting adventures, making new friends and lots of travel this week... perhaps this would be the new adventure, thought Subha. With all these thoughts he boarded.
There she was; sitting by the window of the seat reserved for the handicapped... Subha felt his heart skip a beat. He boarded and gave a customary glance around as to see if there were any places to sit and then stood near the first row of the mini bus. Did she show any interest? Did she just steal a glance? Subha broke into a cold sweat thinking what he was about to do. He looked around as if to find some support but he knew he had to do it alone and NOW!
"Hi Deboti, Could you please hold my bag?" he spoke. The tension seemed to have evaporated and a void filled the space. Now he has done it! There was no turning back now...for as a boy he had experience what words could do once they left the mouth and there was no turning it back.
Deboti glanced his way and accepted the bag. "Sure..." she said... looking uncertain "... Subhankar isn't it?"
Subha was impressed. This is after some very long time that a stranger had remembered his name. Generally people forget the name of the introduced person after a few days of introduction if they happened to have no business with them. She obviously had a good memory, Subha noted with rising relief of having passed the initial hurdle of breaking the ice. "You do have a good memory..." Subha began, "... I did not think you would recall my name... Thank you"
"What for...?"
"The bag was really heavy you see..." Subha managed the goof up.
"Oh!" she said and looked out of the window.
What Deboti did not know was the fact that Subha carried the same bag for the last four years. When Subha had first met Sailo in the bus 3A/1 on his way to Medical College four years back, he had refused to hand the same bag over saying it was okay and he was used to it. Today however it was a different story. The idea was to hand over the bag even if you could carry it perfectly. Subha made a mental note of the first white lie he had spoken, later he could clarify if things were favorable. As much as he hated speaking anything but truth he still had carefully prepared for this bout of questioning if occasion demanded. He could say anything today to seek attention. Mentally he thanked Sailo for preparing him for all the eventualities. He was confident that he could identify the signals that would decide which way the conversation would go, and take corrective measures if it went for bad. Subha was more prepared today than he had been when he sat for his medical entrance examination (JEE). Come problems...There is a solution waiting.
Deboti, it seemed, had taken a new outlook to the world outside the window. She stared out as if she had never seen the passing stores and bus stops. "Damn! What to do now?" thought Subha. "Nothing" replied some warning voice inside him and he heeded. There was hardly anything that could be done now. He has played the ball to her court and there is nothing to do now but to wait for some return. The initial euphoria Subha felt, of having made the contact, was dying now. He tried standing casually and a look as if he had no definite purpose, but that, he felt, made him rigid and panicky. A thousand thoughts gathered in his mind... The whole idea of this adventure filled him with a strange enlightenment; it is a game he thought, if you are to play it with the spirit of the game you will not be hurt even if you lose, if however, you win there are prizes to your hearts' content.... Sailo where are you my friend? Help me.
The journey was uneventful except when Deboti had looked his way for some fleeting moments. Their stop came and Subha collected his bag. He had hoped the conversation would go further but Deboti had handed him over his bag without a word. He had mumbled a word of thanks but she seemed not to have heard him. Disembarking from the bus, Subha took to his usual hurried walking. It was then he heard his name called aloud from behind him. Subhankar felt he was on the verge of a triumph and turned to face the hurrying figure behind him. Deboti came up to him while he waited with his heartbeats playing funny games.
"Sorry to call you like this and bother you... but I need some help" she said.
Subhankar would have robbed a bank had she asked him right then to so.
"Yes, tell me what I can do for you?" he replied with his professionalism setting in. After all he was a doctor and he was there to help everyone, he thought.
"I am doing a project on Health and Nutrition and I am yet to find a good medical institute that can help me complete my assignment... You are a Doctor so I thought maybe..."
"Okay I will see if I can place you in Medical College and if that is okay with you?" Subha replied. "It’s my college and I think I can influence the people to get them to help you... but I am not promising... there are difficulties ... I will see what I can do".
Subha stared at her and felt a sense of despair. He was not a great conversationalist but desperate situations needed desperate measures. Thinking of nothing more to say but the burning need to carry on the conversation, he ventured "This is not very proper; I wish you could come to the hospital and we could sit and talk rather than stand here."
"No actually I have a class from 10:00 and I must hurry for I am already late" Deboti replied checking her watch which showed it was 10:10 AM. "Oh yes, can I have your mobile number please... you can take down mine it is 94331 07655. I will get in touch regarding the placement... so long."
Subha wished she could stay a bit longer as she hurried off towards her college. He would immediately seek out the information and let her know about it he thought as he moved towards his own destination. Time seemed to have lost dimension and suddenly he was not feeling the humidity. The skies have started taking a menacing texture and the humidity soared. It would rain, he thought looking at the gathered cloud, and what a perfect day to rain down. He went up to a tea stall and took a seat. His thoughts were in turmoil and the excitement seemed unbearable. The handing of the bag has worked wonders...just like Sailo had guessed it would. Sailo could not have predicted the exact reaction but he was surely very close. He started dialing Sailo... "My God! Sailo you are a genius!! You are a Love Guru! You are a soul reader..." he started.

9:30 PM.
--------
The brainstorming was now over and so was the drizzling that had started around noon. It had been a very animated discussion and had someone chanced to see Subha and Sailo at it, they would have mistaken it as a quarrel. The point of contention was in the uncertainty of the outcome of the whole affair... Sailo was certain that the fire has started at both the ends and they are of the equal intensity while Subha was more pessimistic, perhaps from the ease with which he was able to get the contact details. He had argued that it was just some help that Deboti had wanted and there was no scope of any further conjectures while Sailo had insisted that Deboti had given her number to him for she too was interested, otherwise no girl would give out her contact details to some stranger. Subha wanted to believe the explanation but was not sure whether to take it very seriously. He was losing his interest to think hard for he had hardly slept last couple of days.
"It is a classic example of a person in Love ..." Sailo had quipped. "First you lose sleep because you are in love and you cannot think of anything else. Then you will lose your sleep again when the affair is going steady in the fear of losing her. Finally you will become an insomniac when she leaves you..."
Subha had taken the remark with sufficient humor but he felt the truth behind it. That he could not sleep was true. He only never thought the reason behind it. He had heard of people losing sleep when they fall in love but had never thought it was possible...there was no medical explanation. But it was happening and he cannot deny it. He had even missed his jogging and stretching today and it has happened after almost a whole year. Last time he was down with fever... and now...Love?
"What do you think I should do?" he enquired. "Shall I call her up to let her know that I have arranged the induction to the Medical College?"
"Wait! My dear friend, you are missing the subtle points in the game. The idea is not to show you are head over heels or she might end up on top." said Sailo with conviction. He was after all a veteran and he knew the human psychology like the back of his hand. It had taken a lot of refusals, a lot of pains to be where he was but it was worth it, he thought, more because he could help his friend out. He was certain that Subha is in luck and the girl has also responded predictably. He knew the importance of waiting in this game and the importance of subtle timings. After all it is just for a few initial days that this game has to be continued. "All will set in perfectly at the end and then there would not be the need for playing it on. Once the making-impression period was over, nothing else matters."
"When do you think I can call her up?" Subha asked impatiently. "Tomorrow?"
"No. You don't call. It was her need so let her call"
"What if she doesn't?"
"If she doesn't call by tomorrow you SMS her with the news but don't call." warned Sailo, knowing very well that his friend would not heed this particular warning. "If you call you will hardly have any reason to show..."
"Okay." Subha nodded. "And what do you think she would do?"
"If I am not very mistaken Subha, she doesn't even need the information you have collected with so much importance." said Sailo with a twinkle in his eyes. "I am sure that her college seniors would have provided her with ample guidance and she happens to be from one of the best of institutions. Her college would have surely endorsed her with some connections. It is hard to imagine otherwise. Nevertheless, a clever way to get the contact going...don't you see it? She has played her part and well too! All that you have to decide is when to return the ball again for her to plan her next response..."
"You have some imagination! But I am afraid this is just a speculation. On a broader and more general view I think she really wanted my help" reasoned Subha. "I admit that she has acted very unpredictably but then she might have been in dire need for that information. No. No Sailo, I think I should let her know what I have found out."
"Go ahead then do what you like and spoil it" Sailo tried one last time "if you reply too soon she will know she has you in the bag. You will send her the news but all I advise you is to wait for about 24 hours...just 24".
Sailo's mother announced that the dinner was ready and they left the discussion at that.

Love in August -- 12th August 2005

2007-02-27T15:30:00.001Z

*** 12th August 2005
10:45 PM.
---------
"No news yet" Subha said clutching the handset harder, "Sailo, the situation doesn't seem good does it?"
"Arrey don't let it consume your thoughts..." Sailo said comforting, in the last two days he has always been able to guess what Deboti might do. This was possible for Subha had been a very good observer... they had discussed her every reaction and every expression as Subha had described. It seemed that she really did not want the information after all as he had predicted... Someone in need will always look up all the avenues before giving up and by the lack of communication from her side it seemed she really did not care. "Send her the information tomorrow at around 11:00 AM."
"Why that late? I can do it at 9:00 if I meet her"
"Because, you fool, it would then suggest you had the information yesterday and decided to pass it over today" snapped Sailo, "you will update me what happens.. ok?"
"Okay Saab. I'll do it"

Love in August -- 13th August 2005

2007-02-27T15:29:00.002Z

*** 13th August 2005
10:45 AM.
---------
It was a holiday and Sailo woke up late. He was deeply into the morning newspaper after having a light breakfast when Subha came looking fussed up. He flung onto the bed and let out a deep sigh. Sailo sensed the symptoms... Subha had some terrible announcement so he folded up the newspaper and turned to face him expectantly.
"This came in today fifteen minutes ago." Subha said and handed over his mobile phone.
"’thnks for ur concrn.got chnce in woodlands.they confirmed yesterday.’"- Sailo read aloud the message and gave out a soft whistle. Now everything was making sense to him. The game was on. He could not however understand why Subha was dejected. He went on to explain his theory.
"What did I tell you? She had everything fixed but had asked you to help." Sailo said winking, "Look this is great news! Have you congratulated her? You should have done it."
"You laugh and the world laughs with you. You cry and the world laughs even louder- is that what you are doing Sailo?" Subha snapped back.
"I suggest you let go that anger and listen..." Sailo said leaning forward "... give her a call and let her know that you are very happy that she has got through in Woodlands. Tell her anything and show that you are really relieved. Then, say goodbye, and make it sound very convincing as if this is your last call for the reason has ceased to exist to call her up again. Then see what happens."
"What will happen?" Subha said sitting up now. "What will happen, Sailo? Will she say...'No no don't hang up dear Subha? I cannot live without you ... bla bla bla'"
"Trust me. I have never let you down, have I?" Sailo said sensing the sarcasm.
"Only that, I have never asked your help before... yes you have been very reliable... that is most comforting" Subha was furious. He could not see what Sailo was driving him into. It seemed they were daydreaming about this whole game thing.
"Okay but do trust me this time. I am sure the whole situation would be very clear once you can do it well."
"Fine. I guess there is nothing more to do. So I will do it; repent all my life but I will do it. And I will let you know, you Smart-guy, Mr. Know-all." Subha said resigning.
Subha went to the balcony for the signal was better there. He dialed. Sailo could make out his voice but not what he was saying... he was, for the first time, a bit tensed at his suggestion. He knew if the girl was interested she would not fail to see that it was a goodbye call and would do everything to stop this happening but if she was not... "God help me" he thought.
Subha came back into the room almost after a fifteen minute talk. He was frowning. "There is a problem. The authorities of Woodlands had obviously called her up and informed her about some problem. She has to go down there and sort it out. There is some problem with the dates. She said it was nothing very serious but some additional harassment..." Subha trailed off.
"Hooray! Subha you are in! YOU ARE DEFINITELY IN. Congratulations man! You have won yourself a pretty girlfriend. I am envious" Sailo burst out relieved.
"What the heck? Why do you say so? You are not joking are you?" Subha demanded indignantly. "What is her problem got to do with this?"
"Don't you see she has kept an avenue open for you to enquire again? Don’t you see it?" Sailo was now smiling.
Realization set in. It took Sailo a Herculean effort to draw out the conclusion to Subha's satisfaction but at last Subha saw logic in the explanation. Sailo was right. He had tried to say the goodbye with a lot of conviction and then she fell silent for a moment... Loss of signal perhaps Subha had thought, but then she started with her latest problems saying about the alleged call and the harassment she would have to undergo... She did not say all these when Subha had congratulated her but waited till he had said the parting words. Subha began to see the logic Sailo had laid and he too felt like his former self again. Hopes began to rise and he was seeing light again.
"You might be right" he said at length, "but what now? She has started a new episode altogether. What do I do Sailo?"
"Send her the mushiest SMS you can think of and wish her all the luck. Also mention that you would like to know the status of this problem when it is addressed"
"Now you are talking." Subha smiled and started the composition immediately. "What do I write?"
"That is something that you have figure out yourself for it has to be original..." said Sailo.
Subha stopped for a moment and looked at his friend. The cool and calculated and always-right fellow was very much unlike him and yet he seemed so wise and so much ahead of his years. Subha wished many a times under different circumstances he could be like his friend. That was one such moment. Sailo was not a very hard working and exercise crazy types and therefore he was of more than normal gait. He was, what doctors would call, slightly overweight. With a round face and oval shaped glasses he looked no more than sixteen but his eyes were bright and intelligent and often Subha could read a lot of expressions in his eyes. It was almost as if he could speak with them. When Subha had met Sailo, he had been much heavier and it was Subha's constant nagging that Sailo has trimmed down a bit resulting from his controlled diet. Sailo was fearful of exercising and Subha's repeated insistence to Sailo to join him in his jogging had been fruitless. He was the late-riser types. Subha remembered his more important work at hand and proceeded to write a romantic SMS for the first time in his life.

8:40 PM.
--------
It was adda at Sailo's place and Subha was chattering loudly about the recent developments. Raja was listening attentively. He was Subha's friend since childhood. Raja had come to Sailo’s place with Subha and since then he too had taken a liking to him. Raja was adding comments here and there, clarifying the details where Subha had missed out when the SMS came. Subha opened it with obvious expectancy and made a face that suggested he had been taken for a ride. Sailo leaned right and tried to read the message when Subha handed the phone out to him with a puzzled expression.
"'Thiking about me? Actually I am also doing the same. Ha ha.'" Sailo read aloud for the benefit of all present. "Well, well, well. It looks like she has dropped her guard. I can hardly expect this SMS from a stranger... What say you Raja?"
"True. It sounds like she is enjoying the confusion. You can ask her out now" said Raja, "or at least make unannounced phone calls."
Sailo had recovered from the state of confusion and felt clear headed. Sailo was right yet again. He could not believe the ease with which he had been able to conduct this whole affair... it was almost surreal. Thanks to Sailo's vast experience in dealing with the fairer sex, he could not have made it even to the first SMS stage without him.
As if reading his thoughts, Sailo asked "So when are we to get the treat we deserve? Next Saturday okay with you Raja?" It was just a courtesy question. Sailo knew Raja would postpone anything for a treat; but he had to make sure that Subha would not give them a miss. As expected Raja had any problems but the host Subha himself protested.
"Let us not count our chickens before they hatch..." he tried, "Letting me get the facts straight and then perhaps..."
"No excuses Subha, you miser" added Raja, "Remember you had promised me a treat, which never materialized, when you get through in Joint? I still remember; so no lax this time. Next Saturday it is."
"Yes next Saturday" two cried out together.
"But, Guys this is not even a date it is just a harmless SMS" Subha protested.
"Okay. If say, you go out with Deboti within the next Saturday then? Would you still not treat us?" said Sailo, his eyes taking that unusual glitter.
Subha knew Sailo has decided upon the next course of action and it was probably to make him go out with Deboti by the next week. He was excited. "Tell me what do you have in mind?"
"First things first, reply the SMS with an affirmation and say something very poetic. If I am not mistaken, she is in a romantic mood right now and you should hit the iron when it is hot. Then I will tell you what to do."
Subha had been thinking in the same lines and he set off to reply. Raja poured over his screen watching with rising excitement at the prospect of playing the mediator in such sensitive and important times. When the reply was sent Subha turned to his "guiding light" as Raja had put it.
"The next time you meet her or call her up do make sure you get her college schedule. If she has a busy schedule and cannot bunk classes then try to meet on the 15th, it is a holiday, so no college, and go out to some eatery if possible. Get her to talk and I am sure you will have your date. I would suggest The Scoop"
"Remember to sound assertive" Raja chipped in.
Subha felt like he was a seven year old, being warned of the dangers associated with talking to strangers, but he was prepared to let his friends take him on if the prize was Deboti. Only the other day he had heard the song by some Ronan Keating. It was particularly very catchy and it seemed to have captured all of Subha's feelings. It was something like "It's amazing how you could speak right to my heart... Without saying a word, you can light up the dark... " he did not know the words well but he felt in harmony with the feelings it expressed. He decided to try his luck with the setting up of a date with Deboti.
"Sleep well" Sailo said when they parted at the gate.

Love in August -- 14th August 2005

2007-02-27T15:29:00.001Z

*** 14th August 2005
10:00 AM.
---------
"Sailo?"
"Yes"
"I am afraid, THE TREAT IS ON!! "Shouted Subha, at the other end of the phone.
Sailo had to take the receiver away from his ears for the benefit of his ear drum, but the news had registered and he felt almost Godly. This was the first time he has ever provided his expertise in dealing with women for someone else. He felt relieved. Having had to bear in mind the constant pressure that he was in ... from his experience he knew affairs could ruin friendships and create misunderstandings. Had this idea of his' backfired, he had no doubt that there would have been tensions between him and Subha. He took on the risk for he knew Subha and wished him well. He knew Subha was very serious about his likings and this girl, Deboti had bowled him over. "So what did you plan and when are you going out?"
"Tomorrow." Subha said triumphantly "and this would have never been possible without you.... I simply cannot thank you enough... "
"No ‘thank you’ and ‘sorry’ in friendship." Sailo cut him short "Wish you all the very best of luck."
There was a pause and Subha seemed to be breathing heavily. When he spoke, the voice sounded somewhat choked "Sailo, you may be offended but I HAVE to thank you for what you have done. Had I been your position I would not have taken up the trouble of guiding you. You have helped me immensely. If this affair is to continue it would be solely because you have helped me overcome the toughest period of the courtship, 'making an impression'. I know I can handle from here on but I will never forget what you have done."
"Okay! Save something for the treat too ..." said Sailo and they broke into a laugh.

Love in August -- 6th November 2005

2007-02-27T15:28:00.000Z

*** 6th November 2005
8:00 PM.
--------
"Deboti, meet Sailendra alias Sailo... Sailo meet Deboti"
"Alias?" quizzed Sailo with a charming smile. "Nice to meet you Deboti"
"Nice to meet you too..." she said with a sweet voice "He always talks so highly of you, and keeps telling me that someday he will make me meet you because of something very special you did to help him out when he fell in love with me."
"Oh that’s a loooong story and perhaps the evening would be spoiled if we start once again."
Subha’s eyes met Sailo's and they winked.

A Tat for a Tit? -- Part 1

2007-02-27T15:24:00.002Z

"Hello."
"Hello, Abhi?" replied a familiar voice at the other end. "Could you please meet me? 3:30 Music World?"
"Umm… I am not sure…"
"I want to meet you" persisted the voice at the other end. "It is really important that we meet."
Abhi thought for a while. He had been seeing Rima for about a couple of months and already there were tensions. Abhi, independent and open minded as usual, had initially found it difficult to keep up with his pressing schedule at work as a "Marketing Executive", as the company termed it with such flourish although in reality he was a salesman. Not just any ordinary salesman, but one who has risen through the ranks to have his own flat in South Kolkata. He was looking forward to book a Santro soon. He definitely worked hard and had a difficult time meeting his work pressure and meet Rima too every other day. Not that Rima complained, but Abhi felt bad and helpless.
But as days had progressed he came to consider the difficulties as some blessing in disguise for there was another factor that had been bothering Abhi the most. Rima, he has seen, was an impulsive liar. That had not been very obvious at the beginning, but as days progressed, Abhi realized with growing concern, the inconsistencies of the accounts she had shared and the views that she expressed. For instance: Rima might have a plan to visit her college friends and go for a movie, but if you asked her out, she could invent a story about some dead uncle and the funeral and how difficult it would be for her to avoid it, hence she was unavailable. Abhi understood but could do nothing about it.
"Well… if you say so… then make it 5:00" he replied unwillingly and with all the uncertainty he could muster in his voice.
"No, no. Not that late. I need to meet you by 4:00 max" she declared with finality. "See you then" and she hung up.
Abhi looked at the receiver with rising resentment and disbelief. Why could he never say "NO"? He had been thinking of having a good sleep to make up for the week’s loss of it. Now he knew he could not sleep. He was tensed about the meeting but decided to go anyway. If she wanted him to buy any Music CD he could refuse, or could he? This was the crisis he could not avoid and not even a Sunday afternoon nap could deliver him from the trap. Abhi remembered his escapades to the various malls round the city with Rima. She would carelessly pass among the various display sections and strategically comment on items she fancied buying. "Isn’t that pendant lovely?" or "Neha has one just like that… her boyfriend bought it for her" or "Look how cheap this jewelry is… It costs a fortune in the Shopper’s Stop"…
He considered going to bed for a moment and not turn up at the appointment but dismissed the idea and then decided to call up Rudra his cousin brother, five years his senior but his closest confidant.
When Abhi had first seen Rima at a wedding, she wore a cherry red sari and made her look very sensuous. Abhi could hardly take his eyes off her or better to say he was struck by her sight. She had noticed the interest in his eyes and they had gone out after a week of exchanging telephone calls. All was fine but there again after a month Abhi had felt his sixth sense beeping warnings. The signs were not very obvious. The troubles with her lying habits were becoming more and more visible. Still Abhi had hoped that the particular habit was a ploy to tease him, only to have realized later that it was her nature and nothing more. The relationship was not perfectly like the ones that you would see between two persons in love. It was much a relationship of convenience. Abhi hated being cowed down by her lies and demands. It was as if he was paying a price for being in love. Every other day she would want to go to the Movies and hang out for the dinner. It was Abhi who ended up paying most of the times for she could tactfully avoid the bill. Abhi would have had paid the bills anyway, but it became so glaringly obvious with her comments and expressions that she would not pay. The matter was not very grave but Abhi certainly felt an undercurrent of exploitation every now and then. He had hoped that kindness and good faith will have some effect on her but as the saying goes ‘You cannot straighten a dog’s tail’, she too refused to adjust.
Abhi had been through a lot of stress and he knew it had originated solely from his association with Rima. Rudra had been a kind shoulder to lean onto and Rudra had always discouraged this association with her as the incidents unfolded. Abhi wanted to see till the end so he had stuck on otherwise the warning bells were always ringing. Rudra could not deter him from his resolution to see till the end even if it meant a lot of trouble and ultimately lead to some form of bitterness. Abhi knew that he was serious about Rima and have taken a definitive liking for her. He was also aware that Rima was probably fleecing him but then ‘Love is blind’. The more Abhi sensed the hard fact the more resolute he grew to see it to the end. After all no one is really bad at heart and everyone tries their best until destiny takes over. It was a strange experiment that Abhi had indulged in and he knew it would soon end… he could almost smell the end of this tyranny.
Rudra arrived within thirty minutes and they set about to make a strategy. Rudra talked and Abhi listened with occasional disagreements. Finally it seemed they have had arrived at a solution and Abhi sat back in the couch to light a cigarette with a satisfied look. Rudra had brought along with him some high quality Marijuana that some student of his, who currently studied in the North Bengal University, had presented him. He set about preparing a high dose of the narcotic. Some clear thinking was required and the weed would help… and after a puff or two, Abhi felt his head swim in a lake of changing colours…

A Tat for a Tit? -- Part 2

2007-02-27T15:24:00.001Z

Abhi was calm and composed when he had met Rima, primarily because he was still under the effect of the narcotic, and secondarily because he had now a plan to see if Rima was serious about him. Time seemed spaced and colors more vibrant. Abhi took to drag occasionally but never failed to wonder at the mental peace it seems to produce… It was high time that he knew what his beloved thinks of him and their relationship. Only problem was that in order for the plan to work it would take at least a week or two. They had walked from Music World, after having spent some odd 45 minutes window shopping inside it, to the famous Nandan complex mainly talking about nothing in particular. The meeting was as usual purposeless as Abhi had feared it would be. Sitting beside the moat that surrounded the complex; Abhi could not bring himself to follow the suit of other pairs around. It was dusk and the lights were fast fading. In the gloom Abhi made out various couples in various stages of endearment acts. They acted as if they were the last ones alive on the planet, completely disregarding the glances cast their way. It was not his nature to be very expressive about his carnal instincts and he disliked doing it in public… he felt rather out of the place. He only wished he could travel in time to see the plan put to work but time was unrelenting.
Rima had been blabbering on for sometime and Abhi had lost focus of what she was saying. Then when Rima told him about her latest crush that he stirred; Rima took no notice and kept on talking about the guy she had met in her work place. Abhi could sense the effects of the narcotic slowly fading and his senses sharpened. Rima had by then got dangerously close to him and he felt very uneasy and flushed. Rima’s touch had a sense of electricity about it and … Abhi realized with embarrassment … that aroused him… He got up abruptly and walked straight out of Nandan and kept walking.
He heard the voice behind him first entreat him, and as he kept on his pace, turn into commands, but he paid no heed. When he was almost near the Exide bus stop with Rima struggling to keep up with his fast pace, that he stopped and turned to face her.
"What is the matter with you?" she asked incredulously "what was the hurry about?"
"I … er ...I was feeling sick" Abhi managed to blurt out. It had taken a huge effort to calm down from the rage he felt for some inexplicable reason. He liked the company of a woman, but if there is no respect for your companion, no understanding of the likes and dislikes of your companion then it was better that he stayed alone.
"You were not feeling sick Abhi" she regarded him calmly "You have fled from me as if I were some man-eater. Are you jealous?"
"Nothing like that… dear" Abhi managed with a supreme effort. He knew he could not make her see what went wrong in that intimate moment. His reaction was very instinctive and he was himself not sure why he was so enraged. Was it her closeness that unnerved him? Or was it something else? Jealousy? Or was it because he had felt aroused even when he had disliked the situation and the surroundings? Was he a hypocrite?
"I was really not feeling well and I was in the need of some fresh air" Abhi replied as a mini bus sped away spewing a rush of black smoke.
She did not reply. They had kept silence for some moments when Abhi’s mobile rang. Relieved to have come out of the gloom Abhi hurriedly picked up the phone.
"Hi Dude! How’s your date?" Rudra asked
"Okay."
"Tell me has she stopped lying? Oh! Give me one good news?" Rudra’s earnest voice cried out at the other end of the receiver. Abhi knew Rudra was pulling his leg.
"Okay then. Talk to you later" he said as he disconnected deliberately cutting off any conversation. He was determined to not show his discomfort and that too in front of Rima.
They had stayed for some more time before they parted at the Rabindra Sadan metro station.

A Tat for a Tit? -- Part 3

2007-02-27T15:23:00.000Z

-3-

"Phase 1 set into motion"
"Any replies?"
"Not yet. But let us hope that she doesn’t reply" Rudra was honestly earnest. He knew Abhi. He knew that Abhi was indeed head over heels for this girl but he is also a fool. Rudra had explained that Rima wanted what was known as a "One Night Stand" and was not interested in a long-term association. Abhi had repeatedly and categorically denied believing any of the "Crap". Crap or no crap that was the truth and if Abhi failed to see it, it will be difficult for him to believe that even this kind of a relationship existed. Abhi had yet to see a lot of life. Platonic love and that sort of thing do not exist any more. In this instant-age even love is a commercial object and could be contractually bound. Rudra had cited the instances of people living together and their views about it, but to no avail. Abhi was a fool and a person with values and ideals that were relevant twenty-thirty years back. Losing faith was always easy, Rudra knew, but keeping up with what you believe and trust is a difficult task.
Rudra took one last deep drag of the magical cigarette that cleared his thoughts and made things more coluorful around him. He had always reasoned with himself when he was high and that day it was no exception. He had been through a time when there was a huge transformation among the teens. A clubbing culture aping the west had sprung up almost overnight. He had seen the girls dressing skimpier day after day, getting more disreputable and snobbish. He had seen boys getting more desperate, less caring and having a more of give-it-a-damn types. Expectations all around were low in terms of fidelity and that was what was the culture all around. He must admit he was fortunate (or was he?) to have struck the right chord with the changing times without changing too much. He kind of had it in him all along… He had seen a lot of the life. With an impressive look he had been all the more "successful" with the fairer sex. He had been successful in negotiating all his associations with some unknown girl to finality. He did remembered all the girls who slept with him and there were numerous…but he never forgot the lesson it taught him… It was never easy giving up on the inhibition of engaging into an act that has no turning back, and Judge by your heart and you are a sucker… judge by your instincts and you could just survive… judge by your most deeply placed needs and you will reign!
Abhi was not only his brother but also his friend and that was the most disturbing factor behind this episode. Had this incident happened with anyone else, Rudra would not have cared. Rudra liked Abhi for his bold and honest outlook and secretly wished he could be like him… Perhaps if he had not lost his parents at an early age he too would have been like Abhi…bold, confident and straightforward… infused with all the moral values his parents would have lovingly taught him. It would be most unfortunate to see someone taking undue advantage of Abhi for he would go all out for someone he cared for, and that was one of the things that have landed him in this trouble. It was also another quality Rudra secretly admired. Rudra was not well liked by his other cousins for his dubious reputation but Abhi stood along with him all the way and even brought on unpleasant confrontations on him for Rudra’s sake.
Rudra came back to reality from his trance and thought about the situation in hand. This girl was twisting his brother and mate to go against his nature. This was intolerable. Rudra knew the kind of regret he had felt after his first real encounter with the neighbor’s daughter two years senior to him… He felt a pang of guilt and it was still there. Riddhimadi has married and is in Jamshedpur but on occasions he had met her since there had always been some moments of discomfort and awkwardness… He knew it was not very desirable… and he has no way now to undo what was done. He knew that not all the girls were the same and there are girls who thought differently. Rudra wished that Abhi would find someone like that. But now the situation was not as it should have been. He shifted his thought to the letter that he had e-mailed before calling up Abhi. He hoped that there would be a reply so that Abhi could realize the kind of mess he was in. At the same time he wished that Rima did not reply and his worse fears were for no reasons. It was like the horns of dilemma. If Rima did not reply that would tantamount to Abhi’s conviction that she was genuinely in love with him which Rudra could sense was not the fact, but if she replied … nothing would be left to imagination… He could then teach the tramp a lesson that she might never forget.

A Tat for a Tit? -- Part 4

2007-02-27T15:22:00.000Z

-4-

It was another Sunday and tempers were running high. Abhi was visibly undecided and stubborn. Rudra on the other hand was sad and angry and the reason they were fighting was because Rima had agreed to go out with Rudra!! The plan they had made has evidently materialized but Abhi was undecided… as if not so sure if it was right in the first place and he said so. Rudra was furious and sad; furious because backing away now would be of no use and the elaborate trap set to capture Rima’s true colours would go down the drain, and sad because his premonition about Rima was going to be proved true. He had not predicted Abhi’s present reaction. The plan had been agreed upon and now there is no point backing away.
It had taken three letters to lure her to meet him next Saturday and Rudra was certain that he could bring her to admit her feelings for Abhi. The problem was how to bring up the subject of Abhi and that too very discretely so that the connection does not become obvious. But the way Abhi reacted, it seemed the plan would be very costly… for rifts in their relationship would be unacceptable.
Abhi could not let his feelings show. In spite of being very close with Rudra he could not confess of being very jealous and helpless. If only he could now back away… The thought that most infuriated him was the fact that Rima has replied to the last mail Rudra had sent out to her. It was very straight forward yet deceptive. Rima had called up Rudra on his cell and they had been chirping behind his back. She had agreed to meet Rudra because she thought Rudra to be "cute". That WAS alarming. Rudra had been impressive about his mails and he was an expert in Psychology. He had the distinction of being the only male student to have passed the masters in Psychology in Calcutta University in 6 years. Not that the subject was tough but because it was a non-professional subject and no-one, without a small fortune to support them, would venture to take up the subject. Everyone wanted some job or the other. Rudra never had the trouble of sustaining himself for his parents left him a small fortune. All of his classmates were girls. Hence, he was what he was… an expert in the area. Abhi had often heard about the various exploits of Rudra, who seemed to take a certain amount of pride in his lady-killer skills.
Abhi felt foolish and guilty to have brought on this impasse onto himself and Rima. He should have never agreed to the plan of unfolding the true nature of Rima… He should have walked away from Rima in the first place rather than abetting this dangerous game. He could not morally support what he had done. He never believed in deception and yet he has done it. He never liked to bring trouble onto someone he admired and loved and yet he has set wheels into motion that would lead only to further bitterness. Now he was even not sure what Rudra’s intentions were and he was definite that if Rima went out at all with Rudra… Oh he shuddered at his thought. He felt betrayed and yet he could not blame everything on Rima. Somewhere he felt, it was he who should be blamed. Now, with this development he was not sure if he could speak out his inhibitions to Rudra. It was already decided and the only consideration Abhi had deciding it was his faith in Rima. Somehow the whole situation was confusing and he felt he could have some time alone with himself to reason out what he should do as his next course of action. He looked over to Rudra, who was watching him closely. Abhi felt guilty again at not being able to be frank with his closest confidant.
"Rudra… err I think I am having a nightmare of a time now… Could you please leave some weed and leave me alone for a while…"
Rudra let out a loud sigh and made a move.
"Okay! Bro… suit yourself…" he flipped open his purse and brought out a small packet. Flipping it on the couch beside Abhi he turned to leave and then turned back once again…
"I understand the problem you are facing, but I know and we both know that this meeting has to be done and…" he paused, making sure that Abhi had his full attention…
"… I promise you that I would not … well… you know… touch her… okay?"
Abhi felt his face turn red with shame… all he could do was to nod in acknowledgement. He had been dreading this moment of truth and he felt stupid to have made it so obvious to Rudra. Very much in shame he also felt a part of his anxiety wane off.
Rudra grinned and gave him a nudge on his shoulder and winked…"Now… You relaxed?"

A Tat for a Tit? -- Part 5

2007-02-27T15:21:00.000Z

-5-

Abhi woke with a start… and realized that he was lying on the bed in his room in the dark. He felt terribly hungry and his throat was completely dry… He must have dozed off sometime during the evening when he had smoked on the last joint from the weed Rudra had given him in the morning. He remembered not going down for lunch when his mother called him making odd excuses. He gathered himself up and groped for the water bottle near his bedside table. Having taken a swig of water he felt more at ease. He remembered his resolutions and the course of action he had concluded to. Basically the weed had helped clearing his thoughts and keeping the emotions at bay. It was mathematically simple and all he had to do was to eliminate the choices that had some uncertainties. There was just one decision he had to take and he had two choices… He picked up his mobile phone and saw two missed calls from Rimi. The two options he had really a tough time choosing upon before he fell asleep now suddenly got resolved. Not bothering to call back as he would normally do he felt light headed and proceeded to have some food.

* * *

Abhi waited five days before he called Rima … Accepting no calls from her during this period.
"Hello…"
"Hi, Abhi what was up you were not accepting calls what has happened?"
"Sorry darling, I was not in town and I had to go to Jalpaiguri to look after the divisional training that we had organized…"
"But you could have called and let me know that you were leaving the town…" she sounded agitated…
"Well… you would not believe this but I had tried calling you up several times but every time it has given me out of network…"
"You could have sent me a SMS"
"I did not have my cell with me Rimi… Do you think I could not see you and not send you any updates about my whereabouts… Can we meet tomorrow? Now don’t say no…"
"Tomorrow?" the voice sounded as if she had skipped a beat… "Well I am not very well today and I was thinking of staying in bed tomorrow… lets meet on Sunday"
"Oh! So you are not well?" replied Abhi putting all his concern into his voice… "Shall I come over to visit you then? I really want to meet as soon as possible… this assignment has pushed me to my limits…"
"Oh! I remembered…" hastily replied the voice at the other end cutting him short "I have some relatives coming over tomorrow as well… I don’t think your coming over would be a good idea. Abhi lets meet day after tomorrow and it is Sunday and we can have the whole day… really"
"What’s the matter Rimi? I want to meet you tomorrow or forget it" Abhi replied shivering inwardly… "I think I deserve to see you don’t I?"
"Please not tomorrow… I will go out on Sunday … be reasonable…" entreated Rimi.
Abhi felt a wave of sorrow pass over him as he spoke… He knew he was still fighting a losing battle and the end is very near.
"Okay… dear. But Sunday might be too late" and he hung up.
Immediately after he had hung up he received a call from Rimi. His heart fluttered for a moment and he picked up the phone.
"What is the matter with you Abhi? Why did you disconnect? And what is this thing about tomorrow? Don’t you believe me?"
The flurry of questions took Abhi by surprise. He had expected that somehow without him saying anything, Rimi would be able to see the logic behind his strange persistent request. But, it seemed that nothing of that level of intelligence was forthcoming. All she had asked were some questions that would help her keep the point of not coming tomorrow at bay. It was a defense that she was building in order to avoid the real reason for her not coming tomorrow. She could not of course say that she would be meeting her new suitor in Rudra and she would never admit to that… It was something that Abhi saw plainly and wondered if he would ever speak with Rimi.
"WHY don’t you answer? What is it with tomorrow? And Don’t you believe me?" cried a shrill voice from the other end.
"You know something?…"… Abhi was taken aback by the calm resoluteness that emanated from his voice… "You never could lie properly…" he heard himself say, almost unable to control his speech from bursting out in rage…
"All I wanted from you was a meeting tomorrow and you have not agreed. This goes on to show how much you really think of me. I have never turned my back on you as you have done today for a reason that even a four-year old boy would know to be untrue. You never were considerate and your materialism is really glaring. Your ideals, your futuristic plans and your lies have always bothered me…. Now I know for sure that you are lying. Don’t ask me how but get this right, you have been a dishonorable person all along and I wish you realize some day what you have done. From this day forward please don’t bother to call me up for I won’t be answering your calls anymore… Good bye and Good Luck!"
Abhi did not realize that he was actually shouting in the phone towards the end of his conversation. Having disconnected the line and switching off his mobile he suddenly felt the growing silence around him. The options were difficult and the resolution even more difficult. He knew that he might falter and give in somewhere but this was done clinically. Only if he had kept his cool towards the end it would have been very satisfying. But he felt no regrets. He knew that regrets were of no use for they only hurt. In-spite of having a tiring day at work Abhi felt suddenly relaxed, as if a load had suddenly been lifted from him. That night he had a sound sleep for the first time in the whole week.

A Tat for a Tit? -- Part 6

2007-02-27T15:19:00.002Z

-6-

Rudra and Abhi sat in silence. The SMS he received in the morning was what Abhi was thinking about. Rima had text-ed her to say that she was sorry and she did not understand why there was any confusion. She would like to meet him on Sunday. Abhi realized with a growing emptiness that it was not to be. Rudra had been on the date with Rima and the evening was one of the longest in Abhi’s life. Having had to wait without any news about what was going on he was torn down between anguish and despair. What if Rudra was unable to bring out the truth about her intentions? But he has been successful and the topic of Abhi was brought up on the first date they had together. Not to mention that it was not respectfully discussed and it was sometimes joked upon by the newly met. Abhi could understand how furious Rudra was but there was noting that he could do. Rima’s ploy to fleece him was now out in the open and she had laughed her guts out over the fact that Abhi was so sensitive about her.
The mobile phone rang. It was Rudra’s.
"Hellooo… So have you reached safely…" Rudra spoke fluidly indicating it was Rima on the other end …He turned on the speaker phone.
"…Thank you Rudra, that was a wonderful evening I enjoyed a lot"
Abhi was distraught… it felt like the final nail in the coffin of the memories he so fought to recover… He watched Rudra who was making an expression of ‘Don’t worry she will know what she has done’-type all the way indicating Abhi to be silent…
"Oh really! Was it better than the ones you had with that lover-boy…Adhi or Abhi … of yours…"
"..Don’t talk about him… I think I told you that there was nothing personal going on between us… he was just a convenient friend…" giggled Rima on the other end.
Rudra looked over to Abhi who looked very uncomfortable. His face looked pale as if he had been stabbed through the heart…He felt a pang of guilt but pressed on unflinched with the same smooth voice as he was enjoying the conversation…
" But don’t you think he might be hurt if he found that out? You are a sweet devil you know that…"
"Nah! He is too occupied to find out… although recently he has been suspecting something… I am supposed to meet him tomorrow … I might even squeeze out the reason behind his sudden transformations… after all life is so dull without having such clowns around…" Rima burst into a pearl of laughter… "You know… He might just gift me that perfume that you refused to buy for me today…"
"I am sure he will… He might be head over heels for you… Okay go ahead if he is so generous why don’t you go out with him in the future…" Rudra sounded playfully hurt…
"Don’t be silly… You are really cute you know that? I have never met anyone like you before…" replied the sing song voice at the other end.
"I am surprised darling… surprised because you have met my brother who is a thousand times better person and not found him interesting… and you find me interesting…"
There was a pause.
Abhi was stunned… Has he been out of his mind? What does Rudra plan to do now? This was unforeseen and not agreed upon. In-fact they had no plans for the future… but this was unthinkable…
"What? What are you talking about?" Rima sounded confused.
"I am saying exactly what you have just heard… Abhi is a thousand times good person than you think… he is clever and intelligent and you might not believe this… he has heard the whole of this conversation on the speakerphone… Say hi to Rima…" Rudra was nodding vigorously in aprroval…
"Hi Rima… Hope you have enjoyed being with Rudra…" Abhi managed to blurt out with some snigger.
"Who was that? And what is going on…?" Rima stammered
"You are caught in the act you hopeless girl… that is what is going on… You consider yourself lucky that you have escaped some severe punishment… But if you ever bother to call up and harass my brother again I promise I will teach you a lesson you will never forget…" Rudra said with a lot of modulation sounding overjoyed "Bye Rima and goodbye".
"Wait…"
Disconnecting the phone Rudra finally let out a satisfied sigh. Abhi was not sure what had happened… it felt like a small hurricane… his senses were badly shaken with the show of deception yet he felt thankful to Rudra that it was finally over. The cell phone rang again. Rudra ignored it and set about reaching for his pocket with a smile and a sparkle in his eyes…

Dawn with hope

2007-02-27T15:19:00.001Z

It was not raining, but was about to rain. The canopy of the sky seemed to gawk towards earth and the dark was getting even darker, the lanky coconut trees swung their heads, as if in despair. The waves fumed, as if with rage against the rough caress of the strong winds that were blowing over the seas, as they lashed against the shoreline. Arnab felt the first drops of the rain as the haze over the east moved closer. It was not a day that you would want to venture out in the open seas as he saw few small boats at a distance, wobble over the surface vanishing every now and then between the crests and troughs of the swelling water. The lighthouse stood silently like a ghost on the east of where he sat, in the direction of the arriving rains. He had looked at the red and white bands that adorned the lighthouse and made it look like a Lego toy from a distance. The beach was deserted. He took a swig from the bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag and felt the burn of alcohol as he ingested it. He felt very bitter like the taste of the cigarette that was lingering in his mouth. Nothing was going according to how he had dreamt.
He proceeded to move to the small shelf-like shelter that had formed under a large overhang boulder on the beach. It shielded the rain which was driving harder now and he could scarcely see the lighthouse through the haze. He was drenched thoroughly when he had finally made himself comfortable under the shelter. He groped his pockets urgently and swore under his breath as he took out a cigarette pack. They were dry to his relief as he proceeded to light one with the aid of his wind-proof lighter. Dragging hungrily at the cigarette he let the kick set in. The alcohol was taking effect and he could sense in his head a falling sensation. He took another large gulp from the bottle.
He had received the news of his failure only today just after he had arrived back home from his college in Pune. Satish had called up and had informed him of the final list and that his name did not figure in it. The interview had been fine, the HR round also went fine and he was confident he would make it to the most prestigious IT company of the country but … Arnab took another gulp and felt slightly numbed. He took the bottle out from the sodden paper bag and lifted it up to see the level of the golden yellow fluid inside. He was startled. There was hardly a peg or two left in it. He realized with rising concern that he had almost ingested a whole pint of whiskey.
The rain was slowing now. It was not a seasonal rainfall and Arnab knew that it would soon pass. He took another swig and felt his limit. The boats were now much closer but the swell of the seas still made them disappear and reappear amongst the waves. It was almost dusk, and Arnab saw the beam of the lighthouse light up. The lighthouse seemed very lonely in the stretch of the rocky coastline and Arnab felt a kind of solidarity with it. The difference being while the lighthouse had light he had none. The immediate future looked pitch black and bereft of any hopes. There were a few more campus interviews coming up but he has lost all his hopes. This was the third time that he had been through with the interview only to be refused the employment offer letter. All his classmates were by then placed in some organization or the other and it had been very discouraging. He could see the look of pity in the eyes of his classmates and knew he was a topic of their discussion. In spite of being moderately brilliant in his class, he was still jobless. He had taken to mailing his seniors in the alumni association of his college stating his plight but none could help. None SHALL help he thought bitterly.
The light was fast fading now and the skies have cleared a bit. In the gloom Arnab could still make out the boats. He wondered if the fishermen were happy with their lives. He often would look around him and watch the people intently. He tried to make out if a person was happy and if he had any complaints in life. Often he would find that everyone had problems, the difference was how each coped with them. He took a final long gulp and held the bottle to his lips till he was certain nothing of the fluid was wasted. He then threw it away and the bottle shattered hitting a rock. He tried to get up but fell and then blissfully passed out.
When he woke it was dark and the sky was clear. There was a bright moonlight and the sea, quiet now, glowed with strange green phosphorescence. The sea had receded baring the jagged rocks that would have been otherwise submerged. Arnab felt cold and tried to sit up. His head ached terribly and his mouth felt dry. Slowly realization set in that he was alone in the beach and looking at his watch he realized it was well past four in the morning. He gave a start. His parents would have been worried to death by then for he had not reported to them since his coming to the beach alone that evening. He felt all the more miserable, irresponsible and guilty. Pulling himself up from the sand he walked out from under the overhang shelter and looked at the lighthouse. It was an unending motion of the lights that threw a powerful beam across the seas. The Lighthouse, the moonlight and the splashing of the seas had added to the eerie atmosphere. Arnab had never seen the sea during this time of the day and felt strangely elated at the seascape. He fumbled for a cigarette and finding one lit it. Walking unsteadily, still under the influence of the alcohol; he stepped up between the rocks and made his way towards the more sandy part of the beach beyond the lighthouse.
The road was just about hundred meters from the lighthouse and the parking lot was a further hundred meters or so from there. He reached the base of the light house when he realized that he was strangely not so worried now. The sleep had helped to ease his tensions and he felt transformed. Still making his way through the scattered rocks he joined the road. He could see the parking lot and the small police booth at some distance. Arnab walked up to the parking area and saw his bike at once. He was worried if it had been stolen but seeing it there relieved him. He took his seat and puffed away in silence and watched the eastern horizon turn deep violet. The dawn was breaking.
Arnab was deep in retrospect irrespective of the dull throbbing pain in his head. He had felt a change come over him from the last evening and felt the change was positive. He remembered his suicidal thoughts and felt he had crossed into the stage of acceptance. There were four phases of the mental state of human beings, he knew. When a person comes to know of some terrible misfortune "Denial" sets in, where they simply deny that the terrible incident actually took place. It could last for a minute to a year depending on the sufferer in question. Then there was the state of "Doubt", wherein the sufferer starts to doubt whether the incident actually took place. Then "Uncertainty" follows, where the person finds that the incident might have had taken place but still has doubts but of much lower intensity. Finally, state of "Acceptance" sets in, when the person resigns to the incident.
The lights of the lighthouse went out. The eastern sky was pale grey now, turning steadily into faint white and then as if with an explosion the first rays of sun lighted up the eastern sky. Looking at the sunrise Arnab felt hope flooding his senses like the new day’s promise as the sky progressively turned from ash to blue. The whole incident took no more than a minute. He threw away the butt of the cigarette he had been puffing and which had presently died out. He watched for a while and when his eyes began to water from the intensity of the sunrays he kicked the machine to life.

A new day has dawned and Arnab would try again…

Do you cry too?

2007-02-27T15:18:00.000Z

Abhra watched the station of Yashwantpur pass as the train started rolling. He cast a last look at the landscape that was visible beyond the station walls and noticed the busy traffic. He took notice of the sad face of the little girl he had come to adore so much. Hena had been on the verge of tears. She clutched at the Bugs Bunny; she had earlier received as a gift from Abhra and lifted a silent but very meaningful eye at him as if to say "please don’t go". Suzanne was waving but Abhra could tell she felt sad too. It was already getting dark and the lights of the city were starting to come on. It was a sight that he would remember and more because of Suzanne Mridul Iyyer. The thought of her had brought a lump in his throat and he felt heavy at heart. It seemed only yesterday that he had received the letter that was mistakenly sent to him…
***
He had received a letter from some Mridul Iyyer from Bangalore branch of his office stating him to perform a peer review on the report sent along with the mail. He had not understood a word of the letter neither could he get how it got to him in the first place. He then had looked up on the mail server address book and found that there were two Abhras listed; he had realized it had been sent to him by mistake and replied to the mail to that effect. He had received yet another such mail the following week. That time too he had politely sent the reply stating that he was not the intended recipient. When he had received a third mail from Mridul Iyyer he had not even bothered to open the attachment and had replied back rather urging the person (he had not been sure of the gender then and the name had not suggested the gender either) to stop mailing him every now and then. Abhra was not of those types who would send out mails without a thorough checking of the language, the idea and the tone the language conveyed, the spelling errors, the mailing list and so on. In a nutshell he was a perfectionist and never left anything for a further comment from his seniors. So, the idea of a person sending out project mails to him was unthinkable. Mridul had been very polite and apologetic in the reply. The mail thanked him for his continued help and also stated that Mridul had found Abhra’s mails reflected his cheerful disposition. Abhra had sought clarification feeling elated and thus their pen-friendship grew. It had been a whole month of courtesy good morning mails and other chit chats that they had first spoke, over the intra-organizational telephone network. Mridul, as Abhra had learnt then, was a lady of about thirty (much to his surprise as he had thought, by the name, that Mridul was some guy. It was later that he learnt her full name that he realized that she used her middle name for official purposes.) and was married. They had then exchanged their mobile numbers and kept in touch. While Abhra’s office colleagues jeered at him for having a married lady as a friend Abhra knew and felt that it was nothing to be ashamed of. A friend is a friend be of any age.
Their friendship had grown for about five months and Abhra had come to know about her in-laws, her husband and her little five year old daughter Hena, when Abhra was selected to be sent to Bangalore for some project requirements. It was then that Mridul had suggested that he should stay at her place. Abhra was not too sure if he should accept the invitation. It had been only five months and they have only spoken over the phone or had exchanged mails. They had not even seen each other. Abhra knew about facial expressions and body language, and he also knew that they were difficult to forge and therefore they would only give a true picture of a person. But to observe them you would have to meet the person and unless you meet the person you will never have those gut feelings about him/her that often turn true. He was skeptic about the invitation but agreed all the same. After all what had he to lose. Suzanne worked for the same company that he worked for; she was polite in her mails, could converse extremely well in flawless English, could empathize with the finer feelings of life, liked poetry, liked to go biking and feel the freedom, etc, etc. What had to fear for thought Abhra and decided to stay at her place.
He had been received at the Yashwantpur Station by Suzanne and her little daughter Hena. Abhra had immediately taken a liking for the kid. She was a sweet kid with an aura of innocence that is hard to come by amongst kids of her age. Kids were born wiser now often Abhra had thought. They seemed to know all about everything thanks to the age of information and idiot boxes! To a four year old Marukh Mann or Theity Pinta would be the role models, to them entertainment would mean watching the item numbers and dance along, to them reading story books were a taboo or even the good old Grandpa-Stories were a complete waste of time. But Hena seemed strangely like what normal kids would be like. Abhra knew about Suzanne’s father, who was a very good storyteller and also knew that Hena spent a considerable amount of time with her grandparents since both her parents were of working community. That would have been the reason for her sweet and innocent nature thought Abhra, or perhaps it was a regional occurrence. Abhra had remembered his niece in Kolkata who was about the same age as Hena and felt the glaring distinction.
Suzanne had a very calm and calculated and friendly outlook it had seemed to Abhra, as she deftly drove her way through the famous Bangalore Traffic snarls. They had talked about how excited they both were about this trip and how the mails had started a friendship that has resulted in this meeting. Hena had been intently following the conversation of the stranger she came to meet and when Abhra noticed she seemed to curl up in shyness. They had seen the VidhanaSauda, the lower house of the state parliament, the famous Lal Bagh, the Hosur Lake and the Museum on their way to Koramangala where Suzanne stayed. It was a Sunday and the PVR had stated to draw the crowd even at the early hours of morning. Abhra could make out the uniqueness of Bangalore he had heard so much about. The climate was like the most wonderful thing about Bangalore, and Abhra was in love with the city within the very first hour that he had arrived.
They had spent the day together. Sudhakar, Suzanne’s hubby, whom Abhra had met when he had arrived at Suzanne’s place, was a very jolly fellow. He was a scientist at the NAL (National Aeronautics Limited) and knew a little of Bengali, much to Abhra’s pleasure. They had gone out to the PVR where they had window shopped for an hour before Abhra bought a stuffed Bugs Bunny for Hena, who had been so overjoyed that she had kept springing on every step she took as if in a dance and continued to do so for the rest of the day. They had lunched at the Maharaja and then they went back to Suzanne’s place. They lived in a sprawling complex of three bed rooms of which one was allotted at his disposal. Tired and stuffed Abhra had rolled into a slumber. In the evening they had gone over to the PVR again and enjoyed a movie.
The following days passed rapidly, for Abhra had to work very hard for the requirement demanded it. He came back late accompanied by Suzanne on most of the days for she too had to work late to meet her unrealistic deadlines as she had put it. Then on Saturday Abhra accompanied by the whole family went to visit on Suzanne’s parents. Mr. Charles, Suzanne’s father, was indeed a very easy going personality and he started to converse with Abhra as if he knew Abhra for a long time. They had talked about Suzanne’s childhood, the climate of the city and the history of Bangalore and many more things that Abhra could not clearly recall but the overall visit was a huge success. Abhra met Suzanne’s brother Abraham who it seemed took pleasure in pulling Suzanne’s leg. They had discussed lots of incidents and Abhra had shared his’ too. They had their dinner there and had planned out the outing for Sunday. The food was prepared by Suzanne and Abhra admitted that she was indeed a fine cook.
Abhra had till Tuesday for the assignment and as it drew near he had felt his heart add on weight. He could not gauge it but his week long association with this family had moved him closer to Suzanne. Sunday they had gone out to see the city. They had visited the ISKCON temple and then they had lunch at the Nandini Chain of Hotels. Abhra had found the traditional North Indian food much palatable. He had been fed up with the South Indian dishes that had to be sour and contained the traditional South Indian sambhar daal and rasam. Then they had visited the NAL where Sudhakar worked. Abhra could not of course get to the more sensitive areas of the laboratory but he was satisfied with the tour his hosts had prepared for. They had then gone to Suzanne’s father’s place where Hena was dropped off and they proceeded to the famous and notorious M. G. Road. It was a sight to be remembered for the place seemed like buzzing with crowd. With neon lights and pubs all around, it was as if Abhra was in Las Vegas. They had taken on a small pub and had chattered away their time over pegs of strong liquor, with the music playing in the background. Abhra found a glaring difference in the way pubs are conducted in Kolkata. He had the opportunity to be at the Someplace Else, the pub in Kolkata that he had heard too many praises about, but it was dingy and played the music too loud. The girls, mostly of the student category were no doubt very different from what Abhra was accustomed seeing in Kolkata. There in Bangalore, it seemed, the girls were all from the US of America. They certainly dressed and behaved similarly and perhaps thought in the same lines as them, Abhra had said. Suzanne had endorsed his views and had remarked "You know Kolkata chicks become babes in Bangalore. The transformation is amazing and I had the opportunity to see one change myself". Abhra had been taken aback by the comment but he had kept quiet. Suzanne by then had had a drink too much.
Tuesday had come. Suzanne had taken the day off for Abhra was to leave. Abhra could sense the heaviness that kept mounting till it was time to say goodbyes. Abhra had bid farewell to Sudhakar in the morning when he had left for work. Suzanne gave him a ride to the station. Abhra had carried pure cotton saree from Kolkata. He had decided to give it away on the occasion of farewell. At the station Abhra had presented the sari to Suzanne who was clearly overjoyed. Cotton sarees were costly in Bangalore Abhra had learnt then. He took his berth in the train and it was then that he received a Blazer from Suzanne. It was beautiful. Abhra had been wondering what was there in the bag that Suzanne had carried along with her, he knew then that it had the blazer in it. He was overcome with powerful emotions but he had steadied himself….

***
He could barely see the face of Hena now but that was not because of the distance. Abhra realized he had been crying and the tears blocked his vision. He felt like crying out loudly to ease the pain that had resulted from his attempts to hold back his tears. He could hardly breathe. It was strange that human mind can be attached to someone in a way to induce tears and that too in such a short time. Abhra remembered his initial fears and doubts. They seemed so futile now. As the train gathered speed and the station lights went out of view Abhra could not stand at the gate any longer. He went into the wash room and cried his heart out.

Idle curiosity

2007-02-27T15:14:00.000Z

Fidgeting with the strip of the paper that adorned my wrists like a band, I looked around in the crowded OPD (Out Patients Department). The organization and the management of the hospital were unbelievable. I wondered what would have SSKM hospital done had it the fortune of receiving six thousand patients daily! I looked around, there were no raised voices, no chaos but ordered and patient people all around. To minimize the rush they arranged a Band that was colour coded to indicate the day of the week... Blue for Monday, Purple for Tuesday, Green for Wednesday, Orange for Friday and Red for Saturday, it has to be worn on the wrist to indicate you had an appointment with a doctor in the OPD, and without it you would not be admitted into the waiting area.
People have come from all parts of the country for the Christian Medical College is a world renowned hospital and one among the busiest. Having arrived at Vellore I had an urge, like I always have when I visited places where the native language was other than Hindi or Bengali, to learn the basic expressions in the local language. The first sentence that I had obviously picked up was "Kannada Gothila" meaning I don’t know Kannada! Learning as I stayed was fun. I looked abreast and saw Ma dozing off in the chair beside me. I looked at my other side and noticed a burly man with a moustache that could easily make any Sardar jealous. The thick moustache hid his upper lip and curled up to form a tip. He was almost comical, in spite of his brawn for he was completely bald and definitely looked like a person to enact the role of "Ghatotkach" as in Mahabharata. The effect was compounded by two things: his equally bushy eyebrows and his stone black complexion. Lack of any occupation and boredom of having to wait for our names to be called out, fuelled my idle curiosity to take some interest in the person sitting next to me. Overcoming the temptation to laugh out loud, I wondered where he came from and what his mother tongue could be. I started to find an opportunity to get to know more about him.
Voices on the speakers called out names of the patients who was next in line… there were six rooms in the Medicine ward and each room housed two doctors. I had noticed that this person in question waited to be admitted to the same room that we were waiting for. As a new name was called I saw him tense and then look around and then finally our eyes met and I started with my usual harmless grin; "Hello! I am Oirpus" and extended my hand. The man seemed non-impressed and looked suspiciously at me. As if on a second thought, gave a smile. He did not say anything at all. Feeling a bit like a child who has just been denied his favorite candy, I felt a bit put down. Uncertain as what to do next I pretended to be very concerned about my mother who was by then asleep. Then, without warning the man called me by tapping on my arm. I turned and faced him. He was speaking in English but it was very simple. It is wonderful how English without the verb transforms into a very simple language.
"I … Bala", he blurted "Bala Suvramanium".
I wondered if Bala Suvramanium was a common place name in South India like Bill in USA or Tom in the UK. I have had already met three people with the same name.
"Hi Bala! Where are you coming from?"
"Tamil Nadu" he replied after thinking for a while.
"So you come from Tamil Nadu." It was a statement. I had nothing else to say.
Judging that Bala was obviously not very well versed with English, I knew conversation would definitely take lot of thinking and the application of common sense. Nevertheless, my will to pick up tits and bits of some other language made me come straight to the point…
"How do you say ‘what is your name in Tamil?’" I asked with a lot of interest.
The man seemed to pause a while… then he looked at me as if I have asked something terribly stupid.
"I… Bala Suvramanuim" he replied.
I did not get the meaning of the answer at first but then I realized that there was some mistake in understanding. Bala hasn’t really understood the question.
"No..No I was asking you HOW do you SAY ‘What is your name in Tamil?’"
Bala shook his head as if to say no…
"Bala…."
"No! … ok let me put it this way… when you ask someone his/her name how you do it?" I tried.
He repeated the full question once and looked at me questioningly. I heard a faint giggling beside me and knew Ma was back to reality from her nap-like trance and was following the conversation with animated interest.
I tried once more – "Okay Bala, say you want to ask me ‘what is your name in Tamil?’, how would you ask?"
He seemed to nod, now favourably and though for some time as if trying to assemble what he was going to say….
"I... Bala Suvramanium… in Tamil, Hindi …. Everything is Bala Suvramanium"

I heard a loud laugh beside me and turned away to wait for our turn to see the doctor.

Foot in Mouth:

2007-02-27T15:10:00.000Z

We all have our share of having a foot in our mouth… nothing like what I had a few days back and cannot stop feeling the way that I am till I share it with you all…
"Suvo Bijoya to you and your family"—this was what precisely started the whole thing. Being down with some horrible sickness in Dengue, I was left most of this Pujo to contemplate the various possibilities that could have presented themselves this year. The new and expensive clothes, meant to be this year’s Pujo-wear, which I had purchased for myself, lies in the cupboard. The plans for the Maddox Square adda all turned out to be mere illusion at the wake of this disaster that made my bed a stable companion throughout this Pujo. Imagine my dismay when even a colleague commented "Sekire… ato maal tenechish je ogyan hoye chilish ….", at the statement "Ebar pujote behunsh hoye chilaam…". Actually I was referring my sorry state which he had totally failed to contemplate. So, when I started messaging everyone from my cell wishing them a "Suvo Bijoya", little did I know, what was in store for me.
I had been unfortunately associated with the most strangest and the most opportunist of all people I had known of. She was just a leech who happened to have landed as an acquaintance on me (why me of all people). It was some experience I wanted badly to forget. I even had to change my phone numbers to rid myself of the problem she seemed to have carried around with her as herself. I had met her on a Durga Pujo two years back and the first message I did to her was a "Suvo Bijoya". So when I got the message "Suvo Bijoya to you and your family"— and that too from a number that seemed alien (I have no recollection of her number now … I had purposefully forgotten all about her … or have I?), I swung into action. Some deep down pride boiled up and I suddenly remembered her (lets call her ACKC). I was certain that, that message had surely come from Ackc.
I was almost jubilant… having spent most of my Pujo confined within a mosquito net thinking of all such useless things like the futility of the Pujo (don’t get me wrong…I was justifying why the grapes were sour), this was action time. I geared up for the most forceful of all the telephonic conversations that I would make and dialed at the number. The voice to my expectations proved to be very familiar and the person at the other end seemed to be very unsure about what to say at my fierce line of questioning "Ke bolchen?... ektu agey ekhan thekey akta SMS esechey .. ke pathiyechey boltey parben?... apni ke bolchen? Kottheke bolchen? …". The person on the other end, a girl, repeatedly insisted that she was the sister of the person who sent me the message "Ami or bon bolchi… o ele oke phone kortey bolbo" …. But I knew better. Almost when the person at the other end started to become non-responsive that my more humane qualities stirred and I thankfully let go of the conversation, disconnecting with mock rage. I was sure of the identification of the so called fictitious sister; it was Ackc at her deceptive best. I called up one of my very close friends who happened to know Ackc personally. I asked him point blank "Tui amar number diyechish?..". His repeated denials made me even surer that the person in question was Ackc.
I was not convinced. Having let her go that easily was a mistake… I should have made her sorry for finding out my number all over again… I shuddered at the prospect of having to attain her phone calls at the most odd hours all over again and decided to move in for the kill. I would make her so sorry that she would not call up anymore so I set about to write a clear and damning SMS which read like "I had d fortune of getting u out of my life gracefully and u seemed 2 have acknowledged it. Why then this SMS? I hate opportunists like u". When the delivery report confirmed that the fat boy has been delivered… I set about in a mental muse and had a good feeling about the affair. I was confirmed that the SMS would seal everything and when reply was not coming I assumed the effect was perfect.
All my euphoria had been enjoyed when the call came. I had this habit of clearing up the phonebook every now and then and I had cleared up Sanjay’s number. He was my senior from the previous organization. The voice at once commanded my respect and I was quick to offer it. But something seemed to have put steel into Sanjay (we were on first name terms) and I realized what! I literally felt like hiding somewhere. It was really tough to explain the Phone call or even the SMS. My god! I have spoken the truth but it was not meant to be heard by Sanjay anyway… but what to do now? The pun of the situation has also made the SMS more worthy of belief. I remembered Sanjay had a sister. But what I could not understand was how come his mobile phone is picked up by his sister and where was he? I managed my best… better than what I did in front of Prof. Curie (or Koory) at the BITM (All’s well that ends well). Finally when I could explain to him what happened we had a good laugh… I could have given an arm to make him believe the truth… Luckily he had settled only for my word

A day in July of 2000 and its aftereffects on my philosophy

2007-02-27T15:06:00.000Z

It was a gloomy day in Kolkata. The showers seemed to have forgotten that other places existed in the nation (don’t talk of Bombay though)... why was that it had to rain when I had such a yearning for the cozy bedroom of SJ (my Beloved). I thought to myself – well Suprio; this is a divine sign and it is telling you to let go the notion of visiting her. It had rained, I remember, for three continuous days and by the look of the sky it seemed that all was not over yet.

I still feel kind ‘a nostalgic about that day. But the warnings, the signs, which had been screaming to let go of my notions, were ignored and that is the reason why I don’t see her, at all, nowadays.

But the memories are hard to forget and the more conscious you are to bid them farewell, the more they seem to engross you. I had, I remember, braved the waterlogged streets to visit SJ 15 kilometers from my home, just to give her company in the dull weather conditions. I guess heartbreaks can cut as deep as you want it to and by the time I was reading the letter (from SJ) that announced that all my worldly relationships with her had finally ended, I was bleeding profusely form the cut that I had allowed to form in my heart: too deep to heal. I know I had every hand in setting it up, but I was also very sure that with all the cuteness I had, I would be able to win her heart. I was wrong. She was never inclined on a romantic stint with me; I just happened to have daydreamed for three long years!

Who knows what would have happened had I, with my entire prowess for making such wonderful propositions, had laid bare the thoughts sooner that haunted me for three long years! I was under the constant dilemma whether to actually tell her about how hypnotic I feel when she was around; she must have been a blind to miss it.

Nevertheless her letter, which had arrived on The 2nd of September 2000, only days after I had actually laid bare my feelings for her to her, proved that she HAD just missed them. I was devastated. I was left speechless and my hands trembled at the very idea of losing her altogether. This is precisely what happens when you demote friendship to love. I have learnt that in a hard way.

I have been since then, very confused. I did all my life (only 20 years then) believe that love is something that you have to feel rather than say explicitly. But Human beings are such curious species. They need the verbal assurance that "I love you…till the end of time"… bla.. bla… bla. I was so sure that it would just be like the kind of love you feel for your parents (they are perfectly happy if you don’t say those magical three-word sentence over and over again everyday, they just know; and you know that they know it too). But look what happened when I tried to preach the same … I ended up in soup.

I have never been so moved by anyone in my short life as SJ had; and I doubt I will ever be. I mean to say that after that incident in my life I was so disgusted with my beliefs that I started making an effort to be a little more expressive in my relationships. All this time though, I have still not given up on the idea of a non-verbal courtship (a friend suggested dumb girls much to my annoyance). Is it always that one has to express his mind to make the other person understand how much you really love her? Isn’t there an old saying that "Actions speak louder than words"?

I have since then tried to find out actually what is the correct protocol for the love stricken to express their feelings for their beloved. I have been left ever more confused. The trends of actually expressing the complicated feelings, when you are in love, seemed like well-rehearsed dialogues. I mean how can one simply say those three words and expect to convey a feeling that is as inexplicable as love? It is beyond me and the more I think of it the more confident I get that I had, after all the mishaps, been nurturing a correct instinct that love is inexplicable and to reason with someone whether your love is actually not an infatuation is really a waste of energy. You are, in your own capacity, always right and any amount of reasoning as to what is right and what is wrong would not change it; I happen to be no exception.

I was very introvert, the most amazing introvert in the whole wide world (according to SJ), who, for some reason kept his feelings a secret for three years in the hope that SJ will notice (I believed I was not an introvert but very sensitive (almost to the point where I could be labeled fragile)). The letter also screamed of my being a back-stabber! Imagine my dismay when I came to understand that she could have returned my affection only if I had proposed earlier (but now that I had not, it was out of the question). Although I found that accusation to be harsh for me I still accepted it. After all there is no point in arguing over a point when the whole outcome is unquestionably unfavorable.

I have since then stopped being an introvert (I try hard) and if I like someone I say it straightaway (much to the dislike of some of my ‘liked’). But what else could I have done? I am so poor in giving any hints and I am such an introvert that I might not say anything at all if I let that introvert me get on the top.

So now I have changed (or have I) and I speak my heart out on anything. I need a blend of both of them to make a responsible man out of me and I am really working on it right now.

Proposal making:

2007-02-27T15:03:00.000Z

"There are plenty of ways to get your proposal across..." says some popular book that deals with human psychology and talk about things that sound so simple. Wake up! Making a good proposal is a real tough deal and get it from an expert who has proved it over and over again.
I remember I was always trying to give proposals from a very early age... ranging from "You should study harder to succeed in life" to my younger kin to "I love you and you could also do the same" to some wide eyed lass who would be totally taken back by the suggestion of even sharing the information as to what time it is, with me. I have been successful.
Yes I have been successful if you would consider the various reactions that have been generated as a result of my suggesting power. The very first success came when I was in the third grade when I successfully proposed someone to steal the notes diary from a classmate whom I could not stand. Things were moving as planned except that I had no contingency plan in the event that the victim complained to the teacher. Oh I shudder at the mistakes...
My faith in luck and my not-failing confidence over the fact that suggesting might be a piece of cake just for me even after repeated disasters made my intensions more resolute. Failures are after all the pillars of success and I was sure that success was in sight every time I tried to propose a plan to anyone. The sight however proves to be a mirage and every time it seemed that I got into some loop.
I have had once successfully proposed some "eye opener" sessions to my classmates that left them with scars on their foreheads resulting from the constant rubbing with a piece of cloth between the eyes on the forehead, an act supposed to bring enlightenment on them who practice it. I have had since then left with a fear of the power of proposals and its after effects. I still remember how hard it was for me to justify my discourse (about the divine third eye) and proposal to the angry and skeptic teachers and the parents of my classmates... leave alone the extreme conditions when I faced my own parents. If only others had little imagination I would have not had been punished so brutally then.
Nevertheless unable to douse the urge to suggest someone onto something I finally took upon the sport of proposing potential girls to be a date!! That was something I should not have thought about in the first place... for the results were dismal. On the very first romantic meet with a girl I was to propose for a date; I ended up being very open minded about the choices she had: I said "If you like me it is okay with me; but suppose if you don't then also there will be no problems whatsoever. I am a very open minded individual who respects the individuality of others". Guess what? She preferred the freedom. I did not envy her decision. In a later instance when I had proposed a girl on the very first meeting she took me to be a liar! Gone are those days when people would believe in love at first sight. I am not altogether bad as a person though. It’s only a matter of luck that people don't last long enough to judge me on an unbiased plane. When people first meet me, they find me prickly, irascible, and slightly unhinged. But if they hang around long enough and get past my rough exterior, they find qualities that are marginally less negative. (Past those it gets worse than before, but by that time it's too late.) She obviously was not in a mood to know better to have called me a liar.
Other future endeavors proved equally dis-heartening. I tried creating the magic in a Bus, by a Lakeside but to no avail. I did not give up easily. It took about a dozen of refusals to wake me to the reality that Proposal making is an all-important art that needs to be mastered. No matter how much people like me and take to me as a good friend, proposal making remains hard as it was and the fact remains that I have no knack for it. I have now taken a stance to make it point that intelligent people are often misquoted or misunderstood and if I was not successful in proposal making I was too intelligent for the audience. That gives me a satisfaction though I know it is as true as the earth is flat.
So please don't neglect the art of proposal making and try to be positive when you actually do it. The art actually is to be at home and pretend that the audience is dumb!! Success will follow wherever you might choose to go.
Amen.

All’s well that ends well

2007-02-23T17:59:00.000Z

It was the State level Software Development Competition at the famous BITM (Birla Institute of Technology Museum) that had the most notable schools of West Bengal participating. The schools that have secured the top two positions in the District Level have qualified for this event, which to eleventh standards like me and my classmates, coming from a school which was then not very well known, was a big achievement.
It was well past two o'clock in the afternoon and we were all tensed. There was hardly any time left for us to complete the assignment at hand. Rahoul was swearing under his breath and Koushik with his chronic Halitosis was also breathing very heavily behind me. I felt sick. The program was far from perfect and I could not type on because of my nervousness that was compounded by the foul-breath from behind me. I have always believed that creative work could only be done in an environment where there was no physical discomfort. But that day I had serious troubles and no backup to fall back upon. My mind raced back to the days when we were in the district level competition…
********
There were about 15 schools from Kolkata (Calcutta back then) who had been in the competition in the District Level. We came out second for the educational software named "Solar System", created with the language GWBASIC 3.22 in a MS DOS 6.2 OS. It was, I admit, a wonderful piece of code that took almost 2 months to set up in school. That particular year 1996/97, allowed the participant schools to bring in their own PCs. As many as 3 schools got disqualified for unethical practices of bringing the code along with them on their PCs. The competition called the participants to be present in a large hall 3 hours a day and write a code impromptu that will have some bearing on the users in the form of information, within a time frame of three days. The topic was to be of our own choice. Nine hours in all… and everyone knew that the toppers would have to do more than coding within that time frame to present such beautiful streaming graphics and animation. So it was an open challenge for us to have secured a place among the toppers.
I have certain reservations for a lazy person… I seem to understand them better than most of us. I knew from my long association with Koushik that he was lazy by nature. "There is a saying that I believe wholeheartedly in", he would say… "If you cannot do a piece of work yourself then get it done by a lazy person… He will not only do the work in a shortest possible time but also do it the best". Intelligent and lazy, that was how Koushik was and made up for his laziness with his intelligence; he would always figure out some way to do a work and minimize the actual workload without being non-co-operative. So, while everyone tried smuggling in the source-code, a few succeeded and a few unfortunate got caught and disqualified, He did not bother to take the trouble of smuggling it in. He suggested to the group what was not only a better plan but the most cunning of all schemes in which I ever had a part to play.
We knew that we would be using the machines from our school itself. So, according to the plan, one fine morning about two weeks prior to the competition I sat on the machine scheduled to be into the competition, a 486 DX with a monochrome VGA monitor that could only produce the shades of gray other than black or white, and copied the code, that was developed on a Pentium S color PC, onto its hard-drive. I then invoked the Undelete application and set up the undelete directory. Finally, when that was done, I simply deleted the code from the machine and shut it down. This was of course, not noticed by anyone other than the three of us. I admit we were fools to have taken such a great risk. If we were caught in the act of cheating in a competition so important, we knew, the school would take severe actions to make amends. But I guess wisdom of such eventuality was sincerely absent …
The day the competition started, I was nervous but confident that we have taken the best precaution among the others and we were overjoyed when the machine was cleared without a hitch. It was then just a matter of time before we invoked the undelete command to retrieve the whole of the source code at our leisure. Strangely, it was only then that we realized that most of the participants were sitting idle and chatting away their precious quota of time allotted for the competition.
At the end of the third hour on the first day the judges came by to review the day’s work… By that time we had successfully undeleted the whole of the source code and had taken it apart into three segments. We showed the judges the menu and the small things that were there in the first segment…
On the third day like all other participants we submitted the code and waited with hopes mounting that we would see though the competition.
The Solar System application was a good one with vivid graphics and loads of animation. It even had a quiz session at the end. It got evaluated on a PC with color monitor and therefore the effects were just superb. But there were others too with animations much better than us and with presentations much colorful than us. There were in all 11 schools that finished the competition and among them we had to seriously lucky.
When the names of the runners up were declared it was a relief that we had seen through the initial phase of the competition. What awaited us, we were not sure but it felt good to have come out victorious when the battle itself was so unethical. La Marts took away the first prize. La Mart boys made a virtual physics laboratory complete with a robot guide and unparallel animation. I wonder how they could have fooled the judges into believing that it could be done within nine hours.
We, of course, had no problems explaining how we had made it possible to have done what we had done. We had designed an Editor that could enable someone to draw pictures very easily and save them on the disk. When required the Program could also load the picture in no time. In reality we took the whole of the three days to have developed the editor itself. We did that to avoid any suspicion and presented the onlookers with a picture of a team working with sheer dedication. The judges were so impressed they made the editor and the loader available as standard tools for the successive years to come.
That was one victory I never enjoyed much except for the fact that the application was very well written to have passed such tough (sic) competition… Partially, because I knew where we stood had there been a fair competition… we would probably had not done bad after all but, the quality of the work would not have been close to 10% of what we had been able to present to the judges through deceit. A small detail seemed to have been overlooked by the judges when they had evaluated our work was the fact that, the machine on which we had developed the application had a monochrome monitor, yet the colors used for the animation and graphics were just perfect!!!
********
But that was in the district level… and presently, my mind focused back on the program that lay listed on the screen in front of me. Rahoul’s nudge in my ribs had brought me back to the reality that we are now at the state level competitions and that: we have lots of fine tuning to do before we submit the code for the adjudication at 4 o’clock. Back in the district level we had the savior in Peter Norton (who had once accidentally deleted one of his important documents only to realize that it was not possible to get it back. He then wrote the Undelete.exe, which happened to have been bundled with the MS DOS OS, after its importance got acknowledged), but now we were in the open and had no cover… for the state level competitions required that a topic be given on the spot on the first day; so, no more prewritten code. The time limit however was 25 hours i.e., 5 days of 5 hours each.
I looked over to the left, where the La Marts boys were working, and I could easily make out the stress they were in. They were huddled together and almost having arguments every now and then. It was then I wished we had a fair fight in the first round. The topics for the state level were varied. Every topic like Mathematics, Physics, Biology, Chemistry and Geography were covered: Probability, Projectile Motion, Photosynthesis, Periodic Table and Atomic Structure and Water Cycle respectively. I looked around to see the other participants and there was a general state of buzzing all around. I could make out the outline of a leaf on a screen some distance away… Photosynthesis, yes that is what they were attempting… One of the members of that team in question noticed that I was taking some interest in their work and they promptly switched their monitor off to face me. I hurriedly looked away and almost laughed out loud. They were probably unaware that we were attempting the Projectile Motion but the competition had brought the meanest of mentalities out, as does the war.
It was some school from Nadia and I was not interested. Meanwhile, Koushik had replaced me on the keyboards and was frantically searching the code for the defects. We managed to demonstrate the projectile motion with the examples of shells being fired from tanks or bombs being dropped from the planes and that sort of things, all done in animation. The editor was there and we had created some wonderful pictures of planes and tanks. There was another trump card up the sleeve for us, we had been able to develop an interactive screen where the user could give the speed and the angle of the projectile being fired and the program would trace out the path of the projectile and show it to the user through animation. The usual calculations like the height achieved and the distance traveled would also be shown along the graph that was traced. It was the salient feature of the program other than the graphical design and the animations.
However, there were a few problems. The tank seemed to fire from its body and any amount of tweaking, on that section of the code to correct its fire from the muzzle, was futile. The things seemed to worsen when we tried to correct it and the shell started off either from thin air or from the ground before the tank. The only positive thing about that code in that present state was: the shell started from the body of the tank and grazed the muzzle. The observer had to be absolutely focused to realize that the tank was firing from the body and not from the muzzle. The plane dropping the bomb was relatively trouble free, except if someone looked very attentively it would have been discovered that the motion was a quarter circular one and not parabolic at all. The trump card that we had up our sleeve also had some share of that erratic behavior and the projectile seemed to have itself detached from the origin (0,0) and start from somewhere beyond (20,20) as the angle increased beyond 60 degrees. The greater the angle the greater was the movement. The reason was not clear; and in spite of having gone over these sections of code a hundred times, we could not identify the reason of the strange behavior.
While time passed by, much too quickly to our comfort, we failed to correct the problem. It dawned upon us that we might as well have to make up for the flaws during the evaluation presentation. I suggested that we might avoid a little embarrassment if we limited the projectile angle to be less than 60 degrees. Accordingly, the screen was altered and a message was displayed indicating to the user to avoid giving angles greater than 60 degrees as inputs. We also validated the input so that if a user entered angle greater than 60 degrees the program would not accept the value.
Just when it was about time we gave up and with one final run of the whole code we submitted our work for the adjudication. At the appointed hour the participants were told to stop and as usual like the last minute revision during an examination the buzzing went on to humming and then to chaos.
We watched and from the sighs of my companions I could make out exactly what they might be thinking. After all we were in the same league. We all felt very skeptical. La Mart boys were not looking very confident either and they had a serious altercation with the authorities, which looked like they demanded a 5 minute slack, but was eventually denied. Finally, when the collection was over we gathered in an adjoining hall and waited for our turns to be summoned to the judges… where we were to display the application and give a short presentation. I was lost in my thoughts from the previous level where we went in, confident of our code’s performance; now, it was free for all. The participants from other districts were bubbling with confidence and I particularly noticed the Nadia School team, who had their monitors shut, looking extremely confident with their work. Now if anything could save us from a disaster, it had to be the presentation itself.
Rahoul was a confident speaker and we decided that he would be doing the presentation, Koushik would operate on the keyboard (just the job for him) and I would try and create a distraction when required, especially when the tank and the plane came to the display. It was also decided that I would take over if anything falls apart during the presentation. With our hearts pounding at the prospect of bluffing the judges, we waited.
Our turn came second as we had submitted the work second to another team. With genuine uncertainty we walked into the familiar room where the judges sat near a computer. We exchanged glances and a general reassurance through it and began our presentation. Koushik was very nervous and he almost hurried off through the tank sequence where, to our dismay, the color of the tank appeared florescent green!! To add fuel to the fire the judges were very interested to know why such a strange color had been used. We had to go back to the tank sequence and I sprung into action… very carefully shielding the point from where the shell came off the tank, I put my finger on the screen, to let the judges see only the muzzle portion of the tank. Once the shell had passed grazing the muzzle, I relaxed and explained that we had been using a monochrome monitor to develop the application. Luckily for us, the presentation of our previous application had left some amount of sympathy amongst the judges; they immediately waived it aside as a problem. One of the judges even commented that it was like a camouflage!! Imagine a florescent tank in a real battlefield; it would be a treat for the enemy to sight and destroy it. It is, I admit, the worst suggestion that I have personally come across… worse than the ones I had talked about in my previous article…
The plane proved to be another hurdle. To our dismay, it was of a bright blue color… nothing much was said about that anomaly for the overall effect, with the animation taking the brunt of attention away, was satisfying. Finally, came the "Ace up the sleeve" and the very first question that a certain judge, Prof. Curie (or Koory from the St Xavier College Calcutta), who was a lecturer of physics, asked was why the projectile could not be fired above the 60 degree angle. The answer to this fell in my responsibility and I could not think of anything better than to say "Sir, it is actually a limitation of the GWBASIC language. It cannot process angles greater than 60 degrees… moreover Sir, if someone had indeed fired at an angle more than 60 degrees it would be the same as that fired with angles less than 30 degrees… ". By the time I had finished that wild explanation, I could see Koushik look towards his shoes with a sudden interest and Rahoul struggling to suppress a giggle. There was a pause.
The idea to have the judges taken for a ride, suddenly, seemed too foolish. I was certain; that the bluff would disqualify us…. Then with a sudden change of atmosphere the whole of the room seemed to have acknowledged and endorsed what I had explained and we were told to carry on with our presentation. I could not believe my ears! I would have jumped up in joy and would have hugged Rahoul and Koushik (in spite of his overpowering Halitosis) had it not been for the situation we were in. The rest of the presentation was just like a piece of cake and we emerged with a ray of hope to secure at the least a consolation prize.
The final hour of the declaration of the winner came close and it was almost 7:30 in the winter evening of January when the prize announcement started. We were never expected to reach the State Levels so there was hardly any support for us from school; but our computer teacher from school had come for the announcement ceremony. Not that he was expecting too much, but was hoping against hope. We were miserable because of his presence and for the certainty of the realization that we would come back empty handed.
Like all the other prize distribution and announcements the consolation prizes were announced one by one, starting from the least important and progressing towards the more important ones. At every announcement we strained to hear our names but every time we were disappointed. It was concluded after a round of quick self assessment that we cannot expect to be among the top three and when all the prizes had been given off in the consolation prize category… we resigned to our fate and started conniving of an explanation, that could act as an excuse as to why we performed so poorly.
La Marts had bagged the third place. I felt almost jealous although for no particular reason when I saw the rivals from Calcutta mount the stage and accept the prizes with smiles, which extended up to their ears. I watched them come back with their winnings and take the seat in a row ahead of us and felt a twang of guilt to have felt jealous. We eyed their prizes were looking at each other with smiles of resignation when the Nadia team took the stage and claimed the second prize. I felt like a miserable person and all my cheating from the previous level seemed to haunt me… I did not notice the jump of our computer sir. I also did not hear the shriek from Rahoul when the announcement for the first place was made. I was too deep in my misery to have understood the reason of rejoice of Rahoul and Koushik when the realization dawned:
We have WON!
I still remember that I had joined my team and walked up to the stage while the whole of the hall clapped and cheered. I turned to look at the La Mart boys with a smile of the victorious as if to convey the point home that we can as well beat them fairly… even they were clapping! I forgave them instantly (although readers may ask why I actually though about forgiveness when nothing wrong was done…the answer is …I don’t know too. But forgiving them seemed most logical and so I did).
While I received the Silver Medal and the Certificate of recognition many scattered thoughts raced through my mind… The uncertainty and the cold sweat when I pulled off the finest bluff of my small and eventful life, the long and tedious hours of typing and debugging, the tension and the anxiety of being caught in the act of wrongdoing all came back… but strangely they did not touch me and I felt a wave of relief and achievement flood my senses. I remembered the saying "All’s well that ends well"…