Another Short One

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 to her left 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.

The Other Woman

Taniya sighed. Suddenly she felt very light-headed and giddy. It must be the nervousness combined with the excitement. With slightly shaking hands, she folded and placed the offer letter from the Nursery School on the table. She had to take out the suitcase now, she had to flee before her husband returned from office, she had another 3 hours to pick-and-choose the necessary items and pack. The phone rang abruptly. She glanced at the caller-id and smiled tenderly, fighting against her desire to pick up the receiver. It was Neelesh, the love of her life. There would be time later on… it would be better… she let the phone ring on, resisting her urge…
Neelesh, the man who had turned everything upside-down in her life. He was 6 yrs younger than Taniya, but that had not done anything to limit the magnetic attraction she felt towards him, and the love-affair that had followed. She was a seemingly happily-married housewife with an uneventful marriage life of 11 years. He was a happy-go-lucky salesman with dark, intelligent eyes, a quick manner and a glib tongue. To the world, it might seem a very unlikely relationship, but to Taniya, it had seemed the most natural course, as if this was destined to be. Try as she might, she could not think of this affair as illicit, her love for Neelesh was instinctive, natural, and she did not feel guilty once.
After all, she had been lonely, she did not know how much lonely till she met Neelesh. She realized that she had never loved her husband, and the compromise and acceptance of a dutiful Indian housewife had slowly but surely marred her soul. She had nothing to complain in particular. Tamal was a well-paid government official and he had got them a good flat in Lake town, a posh area in Kolkata. Taniya had a servant who scrubbed the floors, and did all the heavy washing and cleaning, her regular duty consisted of cooking and buying groceries when needed. She spent her idle hours in her passionate hobbies - singing and reading paperback fictions. Tamal detested these hobbies as worthless time-pass. But he had been a dutiful husband, providing for her requirements and looking after household needs. They had absolutely nothing in common. Tamal was a conservative guy who never questioned laid-down rules and principles, was a thorough unromantic and disciplinary, and his only interest seemed to be in the game of cricket. Taniya had been an adventurous, rebellious child and the streak still remained even after years of conditioning in convent school; and, she was a thorough romantic. Though she was a good-natured girl who went out of her way to be kind to others, she did not think much about breaking rules when it needed be, or sometimes just for a little innocent fun. But there was no chance of any fun with Tamal, he was wary of fun as triviality, his life consisted of only grim duty.
In short, Tamal and Taniya were poles apart as individuals, and their life was thoroughly dull and colourless after 11 years of marriage. A child might have brought some happiness into Taniya’s life, but the doctor had ruled that out…she had this tumour which prevented her from becoming a mother ever… Taniya had gone into depression for sometime after receiving the doctor’s verdict, but her adventurous nature had made her suggest to her husband that they go for an adoption. To Tamal, this suggestion was a sacrilege never to be accepted, it went way beyond the social norms. Taniya had rebelled furiously but in the end she had had to give up, after all, she was just a housewife, and Tamal had repressed her from the beginning so that she would remain in her “position”. It had always been a fight. In fact, Taniya had rebelled after just 2 days of her marriage, she wanted to break free immediately after she understood her predicament, but she was not supported by her parents, and even emotionally blackmailed. Being of a kindly nature, she persisted. Over the years, her lively spirit was crushed, and she had come to accept her uneventful, boring life as normal. Till Neelesh came. Like a burst of monsoon rain after a parched summer.
For Neelesh, it had been just a casual fun-affair in the beginning. But with time, he found himself liking Taniya more and more. Neelesh was a city guy who believed in having fun and letting go. His boyish, handsome look and intelligent nature attracted women easily, and he had had several affairs before with “no strings attached”. But he found himself caring about Taniya earnestly and could not break up with her even after his marriage was fixed. They stuck up a deal to maintain their “friendship” for as long as possible and both were very earnest in maintaining their end of the deal. They maintained the secrecy with utmost care, and the relationship had continued for 5 long years.
to be continued...

Ramblings of a mind trying hard to concentrate on important things of forced interest

Hi everyone! This is Dewdrop.

You must all be surprised to see this entry bcoz I never wrote anything for a long time. To be honest, I have viewed this site very rarely, and I have no better excuse to give than the lame - "I was too busy with work, u see!"
Well, better late than never to become a blogger if not for anything else, for sorting out my mind.

Anyway, now that I am in a writing mood, (and have resolved to write regularly, God help u all! ;-) , I will come to the point directly.

I was recently browsing the profiles in this blog-site along with a friend, & he asked me whether I was listed. I said - "Of yes! I am listed as dewdrop."
"Why dewdrop?" - he asked.
I said, "U see, at that point of time, I was getting ready for a major change, I was in a transient, temporary phase, much like a dewdrop."
"Oh!", he said, nodding his head. I guess he understood, being my closest friend.

But later that night, trying hard to study for an exceedingly boring professional course that I had enrolled myself into, I felt my mind drifting away to answer such lazy, pleasant & totally useless questions such as :- "Why did I really list myself as Dewdrop in that site?"

"The reason I gave to my friend must not be the correct one!" - I mused.
"Actually, dewdrop brings to my mind a sense of freshness & vivacity, much like the Liril ad. And memories of my childhood days in the small hilly township, where I used to collect shiuli flowers from under the short, fully-flower-laden shiuli bush. The ground and the grass and the bush itself used to be covered with dewdrops, & I loved to see them & marvel at how tiny and fragile these were, clinging to the corners of the leaves and giving off that fresh, fresh feeling..."

Ah! Childhood memories! How revered and innocent and pure! How I wish...
But isn't it ironic? This perpetual longing of mankind to be what they cannot be at present!
I remember the zeal with which I wished in my childhood to become an adult, to get "freedom".
And alas! Now that I am an adult, far from the illusory freedom, I find myself getting more tightly bound in duties & responsibilities than ever before, I crave for my childhood days and those seem to be the free days, after all!

Anyway, back to the present. And to the current predicament regarding the name "Dewdrop".
As I think more critically, I get the feeling that the name does not seem right, after all.
Does not it imply a transient, temporary & weak personality? A dewdrop just stays for a short time, drying up quickly under the bright sun, & leaving no impact at all on the world!
"So should I consider changing this name?" - I muse.

"Oh, C'mon! Stop your idle thinking & time-passing, better go off to bed instead, if u can't concentrate on studying!" - I severely reprimand myself.
Coz after all, what's in a name? If I were named Queen Victoria, would I become a queen? With the same logic applied in reverse, I propose to be solidly around for quite some time, though I have named myself as Dewdrop!

Adieu for now, though. Must not tire myself out & squeeze out all the literary juice the first day itself! Peace be with u all!

A Short Story

Partho watched another train go by… It was the 3:15 local that was late. 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 realisation 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 neighbouring 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 honour 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…

Paris Travelogue

A small excerpt from a mail I had sent after my paris trip to my mother... Please forgive the spelling mistakes that you might encounter... :-)

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।

FREAKONOMICS: Book review

Here goes my review of "Freakonomics - A Rogue Economist explores the hidden side of everything" by Steven D Levitt and Stephen J. Dubner. Freaknomics, as the name suggests is about Economics taking a freak out journey. The exciting sojourn would take you in for surprise for it shows the reasons behind very not-so-thought-kind of questions. The content is like a consortium of various uncommonly thought common occurrences and things that we probably get to see around us.

One thing that I like about the book is it is not written in the conventional way by confining it to a particular topic. The Author has done an almost detective kind of job in unraveling the conundrums in questions ranging from Sumo Wrestlers to Ku Klux Klan. Essentially Levit's every chapter starts with a question that doesn’t make much sense like, What do Sumo Wrestlers and teachers have in common? Which is more dangerous, a gun or a swimming pool? Is there anything called the art of good parenting? Connection between the Ku Klux Klan and Real Estate Agents. Drug peddlers living with their mothers etc.

The book has some interesting statistics and fascinating numbers, which provide really intriguing answers to the questions. The book enlightens on some of the soft realities of life. One goes like this. Whatever be the philosophy, be it, liberalism, socialism, capitalism or objectivism, people strongly react to incentives. There is a motive behind anything or everything, though not necessarily in monetary or materialistic or objective terms. This deep answer is a key driver to one of the questions presented in the book. Freakonomics could leave you with the reminiscences of a beautiful mind with unconventional and logical thinking to anything and everything that you see around. Observation would become more intriguing and rewarding now. Whoever said, its true that a person is known for the questions that he doesn’t have the answer for. People who have read A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking, another genius, could identify in this book the similar simple and lucid writing style offered on complex issues.

The solutions to the questions have been treated with an innovative fashion. The matter has been presented in an interesting way. On the flip side, though there are chances that you might get bored at times, with some of its pedantic stuff; nevertheless, it isn’t tiring at any time. The research is mind-blowing and makes the reading an intellectual and fascinating experience. Go for it you want to do some quality reading ahead.

Note: This post has also been crossposted at www.raconteurkasi.blogspot.com

The World is Flat: Book Review

Thomas Friedman's The world is Flat is a compelling read and inarguably the best pick of the season. It is indeed a brief history of the 21st century with Information Technology (IT) in focus.

People in the IT have come across broadly two types of books - one with all technical information relating with a domain/ platform or the management books which least deals with techie stuff. Not many attempts have across the third segment striking a fine balance between these two. Friedman's work is more of the third category which essentially traces the evolution of IT. With the advent of modern communication (like Fiber Optics, Internet and associated technologies), the world has started becoming a Level Playing Field for all the countries that are in the IT race. And it is in this context, Friedman describes the World is Flat. In fact, the title is also inspired by the Infosys’ CEO Nandan Nilikeni, who makes the author understand that the world is indeed flat during his conversation with him.

Friedman takes you on an exciting journey covering the phases of Globalisation 1.0, 2.0 and 3.0. It has also links to historical references such as Collapse of Berlin Wall, Disintegration of Soviet Union, India's Abolition of License Raj etc. He poignantly describes the ten flattening forces which made a Flat World i.e. level playing field. The ten flatteners which he listed are: 1. Fall of Berlin Wall 8/9/95, 2. Netscape going public, 3. Work Flow Software, 4. Uploading, 5. Outsourcing, 6. Offshoring, 7.Supply-Chaining, 8. Insourcing, 9. In-forming and 10. The Steroids: digital, mobile, personal, virtual. He writes in depth about the emergence and impact on these ten flatteners to the world and in lots of ways to our lives as well. The author delves into the emergence of India and China into the IT market and praises the indomitable spirit of Indians and Chinese' entrepreneurial spirit. Towards the end, he discusses in depth about the future of IT in America, the threatening forces and the sustainability issues.

The book is sure gonna make you more enlightened on your perspectives in IT and globalisation. The book is not for only those IT geeks, which you might mistake otherwise, but is addressed to a large and diverse audience. Rich with anecdotes, The World is Flat has an encyclopedic assortment of Who's who in the IT world and the companies. The language is vivid and more of a conversational type. The explanation is so clear and lucid that even a lay man could easily comprehend.Finally, I would say, go and grab your copy if you haven’t read.

Note: This post has also been crossposted in www.bibliophilesattcs.blogspot.com

MERA BHAGAT SINGH

Ek baar hum pati patni me jhagra ho gaya,
Ki beta bada ho kar kya banega – is pe baghera khara ho gaya.
Mai thehra kavi , mujhe kuch khas fark nahin hai,
Lekin meri patni ko doctor ke niche razamand nahin hai.

Yeh sun ke mai ho gaya fire,
“Maine kaha ki badal do tum yeh desire.
Aur sath hi tumhe ek aur decision lena hoga,
Mujhe abhi aur isi waqt talak dena hoga”.

Patni ko yeh dialogue thori khal gayi – thori kya ji puri khal gai,
Aur uske hath ka belan turant chal gayi.

Adhe ghante tak usne jam kar ki meri dhunai,
Tab kahin ja ke woh normal ho pai.
Fir boli “haan priya, aab batao tum kya keh rahe the”,
Maine kaha “ji kuch nahin vichar aise hi bah rahe the
Tu agar pyar se sune to sunao nahin
Nahin to bekar dobara mar kyon khaun”.

Woh boli “acha pyar se sunti hoon sunao”
Maine kaha-“ji agar bete ko doctor hi banana hai,
To koi dalit var le le.
Aur usse abhi aur isi waqt shadi kar le,
Nahin to tere sapno ka mahal chakna chur ho gayega
Itne reservation hetu – bete ka future bigar jayega”.

Aab ja ke meri patni ko meri baat samaj me ayi,
Bhagwan ka shukr hai , bach gayi meri pitai.
Bechari ke to chut pare rulai-
Aur boli, rote hue, “ki batao humara beta kya banega ?”
Mai bola “ki agar extraordinary nahi hua to bhuka marega”.

Woh boli “to thik hai mai extraordinary beta paida kar dungi”
Maine kaha – “kyon TV me Ads aye hai kya -
KICKS Action 500 lo Beckham paida karo”

Aur par gayi dobara – kya ? belan aur kya,
Fat gaya kurta utar gayi patloon- bas tuti nahin to haddi,
Lekin hum bhi nahi the fisdaddi .
Usi fatichar halat me kaha-
Is vyavastha ko naya ayam dena hoga,
Ek baar fir bhagat singh ko janm lena hoga.

Woh boli – “tum kaho to bhagat singh paida kar doon”,
Mai tatmata gaya, lekin kuch kahne se pehle sambhal gaya.
Pitai yaad thi, dard se halat patli thi.


Maine kaha “tu to paida kar degi,
Fir yeh sardardi teri maa mol legi ?”
Woh puchi “kaun si sardardi”
Humne kaha “hai bedardi,
Agar bhagat singh ayega to kya chup chap baithega ?
Har chauthe din naya bawal khara machayega

Sting operation specialist kahe layega .
Shakti Kapoor se leke George Fernandes tak na jane kitno ke pole kholega.
Aur yeh Police – kya use aise hi chor degi ?
Ek hi baar me hadddi passli thor degi.
Aur thane har chauthe din bail karane kaun jayega,
Marham-patti aur bail ka kharcha kahan se ayega.”

Is pe- patni aag babula ho gayi,
Kahne lagi, “kya yehi hai tumhari desh bhakti.
Desh bhakti naam me kalank ho,
Bas kavitao me dinge hankne ke layak ho.

Dusre ke bete ki maut chahte ho,
Apne bete ki maut se darte ho.”

Patni ki yeh baat samaj me aa gayi,
Maine kaha –“ tu bhagat singh paida kar de bhai.
Par jo karma hai jaldi kar,
Woh boli 6 mahine sabr kar.”

6 mahine baad, mai hospital me khara apne baal noch raha tha
Apne bete ki future ke bare me soch raha tha.

Antatah who khhan aa hi gaya,
Nurse ne mere hath me ek parcha thamaya.
Aur kaha- aapke bete ke paas se yeh baramad hua hai,
Aapka beta murda paida hua hai.

Us parche me likha tha,

‘Mai is vyavastha ke virudh vidhroh kar raha hoon,
Maa ki kokh me hi atm hatya kar raha hoon.
Magar kaam mai bhagat singh wala hi karunga,
Ajanme shishuon me barud bharunga.
Vyavastha bigari hai jisne , ve hi ise sudharenge,
Hum kisi bhi halat me dushit hawa me sansh nahi lenge.’

Tabhi mujhe patni ki chikh sunai pari,
Aur meri neend tut gayi.

Kavita ka saar yehi hai – kahin aisa na ho ki hum hawaon me is kadar aakrosh bhar de,
Ki bache Hindustan ke sar jameen me paida hone se mana kar de.........

SRK Rocks

The curious thing about being Shah Rukh Khan is that the character he plays always slips into his skin. Raj Malhotra in DDLJ was acting as Shah Rukh Khan, so was Veer in Veer Zaara and Raj again in Kuch Kuch Hota Hain, and the injured footballer in a forgettable movie my memory has bidden Alvida to. When Don was bombing the place, in his mind he knew that he was only pretending to be Shah Rukh Khan and when a ghost in a deserted drinking place in Rajasthan pretended to be a living trader who was pretending to be SRK, he had his comeuppance!

So what happens when SRK tries to act as SRK in KBC? While we juggle with acronyms, he gives away his wrist watch to a participant who was winning 3.2 lakhs and gave a wrong answer to slip to twenty thousand. His uncanny ability to dole largesse is not confined to green backs alone, he hugs men and women in the hot seat again and again kyoonki "main logon ko bahut pasand karta hoon" The shrill scream of delight when he phones a friend is real and he revels in it.

KBC is fast becoming the show that actors are trying to host to reaffirm their popularity with the masses. Amitabh Bachchan's fading career zoomed into the stratosphere with KBC and Shah Rukh who needs a hit badly has realized that selling laptops and washing machines may not give him the boost he requires. Hence KBC. Under the pretense of exposing IQs the Baadshah upthrones the Shahenshah. Skeptics who had written off King Khan will eat their words. SRK is finally acting himself and what's more he is doing a good copy of Amitabh Bachchan!

If the 70's generation is alarmed at the idea of the little guy trying to fit into the shoes of the Big B, they forget that SRK is an acquired taste. He grows on you till you learn that you have no choice but to accept him. He is everywhere. Greeting Ladies and girls and aunties and gentlemen and boys and uncles SRK is an epitome of chutzpah. The panache with which he wears a denim blue suit with tomato red stripes over an equally colourful shirt and beckons you from a billboard is breathtaking. Black satin tie over bare neck and a white shirt unbuttoned for as long you can see and a blazer over it - no one can carry it off like SRK.

Watching SRK is fun. Like the way he pretends that his wife is calling him back home when the hooter blows at the end of the show, or his "Freeze It' call. The nicknames he uses for the contestants and the completely unfazed look on his face when he reads a question he clearly has no idea about. SRK is taking over the game in a way AB never did. Even though AB was the chief attraction of the show, he never let himself grow bigger than the game itself! With SRK it seems, things are about to change! It’s less about knowing the answer now and more about being feted by Shah Rukh in the hot seat, rolling with laughter with his gimmicks and getting hugged by him and telling him how much we love him. The quiet dignity of show is suddenly gone and with the infusion of young blood KBC's character suddenly resembles a day in office when the boss is away.

The last word will rest with my father. A diehard SRK allergic, I was astonished after one particular episode of KBC. Dad just said "O Paarbe!"

GURU

I have a topic to post for bibliophiles, the review for Guru! The movie though wasn’t that great for all the expectations and hype it had created; nevertheless, it is worth giving a shot. While I write this, as I started to have enough time and energy, I decided to go for an enhanced review unlike my usual ones where I place a quick review a la the tea-time kind read.

But beware; couple of things:
1. This shall be a spoiler exposing the story. So read at your own will if you haven’t seen the movie and you are most welcome if you are of the kind who reads spoilers and go to movies!
2. Statutory Warning: This is going to be a long affair, so go ahead if you have enough time and patience.

A sneak preview before that. Maniratnam, as always, brings the first of any kind credit to his movies, be it technical or trivial, and so this interesting piece of trivia for Movie Buff’s: Guru became the first Indian movie to have a World wide premier straight from Toronto, Canada. As it happens most of the times, Mani and controversies walk together hand by hand when it comes to the pre-course of his movie release, and GURU too is no exception. GURU, is largely inspired by the rags to riches story of the real life Business Tycoon Late Dhirubhai H. Ambani. Though the movie begins with a standard disclaimer of it being a work of fiction and that the characters bear no resemblance to anyone living or dead and if it does it is pure coincidence, it is blatant from the movie that it clearly internalizes the life and times of Ambani.

The story begins with an old Gurukant Desai (Abhishek Bachchan), neatly clad in a business suit, speaking to the audience from the podium of an empty stadium with a Namaste note, "Sapne mat dekha karo. Sapne sach nahin hua karte. Mere Bapu kaha karte thhe. [pause] Magar maine sapne dekha aur sach banana ki himmat kiya”, which translates – “My dad used to say don’t dream as they never materialize. But, nevertheless, I dreamt and had the courage to make them real”. You may now wipe out from your memory the remains of this first scene as it is bound to repeat again after gaining the relevance, very typical of the likes of Alai Payuthey or Yuva, Mani’s previous films.So you know now what do you have in store for the next 2 hours and 50 minutes or so or more.

Next as the movie unfolds, the location changes to the surroundings of a school in a little village in Gujrat, in black and white shades where a young boy summons before his father, a school teacher after failing his school exam. He expresses his desire to leave studies for an offer he got in abroad. The father though doesn’t like the idea, he gives away the consent and the boy packs his bags and leaves to Istanbul, Turkey. He takes up a menial job selling old petrol cans there. The boy is inherently shrewd and once by his observation makes his friend win a small coup with a gambler. Few years down the line, he matures to become the protagonist Gurukant Desai (Abishek Bachchan). You next have a dance sequence by belly dancer (Mallika Sherawat) in a bar in Istanbul, where Guru and friends spend some quality time. Guru, by his astute skills, gets an offer to become Sales supervisor from a Gora Saab (white man) in his factory. Guru turns down the offer and returns to India instead to set up a business of his own.

Cut. Camera next swivels to a countryside location in India, where Sujatha (Aishwarya Rai) is introduced in Barse re Barse re song (like Madhubala in Chinna chinna aasai in Roja). She tries to elope with her boyfriend and in the railway station where they plan to meet, finds herself deserted by him. A train arrives to the platform and she quickly boards into it and stumbles upon Guru (whoelse!), who becomes aware of her situation. Sujatha then is accompanied back home by a relative of hers who came in search of her. Meanwhile Guru is given an aplomb welcome by his home members and Guru tells his proposal to start a business, to which his teacher-dad straightaway refuses as he had burnt his fingers once. Guru now needs capital and lures his childhood friend (Arya Babbar) into a deal where he would marry his elder sister and with the dowry money he would start a business offering him a handsome partnership. Incidentally, the girl happens to be none other than Sujatha and with the mutual consent of their parents he marries her.

Guru comes to the aspiring city of Bombay with his wife and brother-in-law, where he intends to do the cotton business. Guru seeks the approval for his application to become cotton yarn agent from the person in authority, one Mr. Contractor. Though the rich and influential Mr. Contractor is impressed by Guru’s wit, he does nothing to his application. The dejected and frustrated Guru then happens to meet Nanaji (Mithun Chakravarthy), a socialist-nationalist who vents his feeling towards the system through his daily Newspaper, The Independent after scrutinizing the facts. It becomes beneficial to Guru, who overcomes the initial hiccups and establishes himselves as a successful Cotton dealer. He befriends Nanaji who lives with his handicapped teenage grand daughter (who would later become Vidya Balan).

With his fine business acumen and knack of dealing with people and those in power, he wins the trust and hearts of his fellow men. But Guru isn’t satisfied; he is hungry to devour big challenges and his independent decision to advance further becomes a subject of disagreement with his brother-in-law and they part their ways off. Undeterred by risks and impediments, Guru raises capital through public shares and shapes his ambitious project in the form of a Polyester factory. After a couple of photo shoots with his staff in the fast forward mode, Guru becomes the ultimate rich Big Boss of Shakti Parivaar, his business conglomerate where he has major stake. You now have the large and bit older Gurukant Desai bespectacled with a thick golden frame and a neatly shaped out belly, mostly clad in a Blue Safari suit, who loves playing with the rules of the game in business. He becomes the darling of his stake holders, the hero of the middle class and favorite of media.

In a turn of events, Guru uses Nanaji’s Press machinery and media contacts to garner business mileage and image in public when Nanaji was away in an entourage. But, Nanaji is an idealist who lays extreme emphasis in values and principles and does not tolerate Guru’s designs in manipulative business. Because of their ideological differences, he launches a campaign to expose the real Guru through Shyam Saxena (Madhavan, in a cameo role), a daring reporter vows to weed out the wrong practices of Guru’s business. Guru still respects Nanaji as a fatherly figure; nevertheless, he develops a grudge against Shyam but has immense affection for VidyaBalan, who marries Shyam later. Guru is unfazed by the allegations leveled against him by the paper and by his share holders’ base of over 30 lakh people mantles challenges further.
At one point of time, he eventually is accused of manipulating the licenses and even of smuggling and an Inquiry Commission is set up by the judiciary. The commission finds him guilty and levels a score of charges against him which could lead to imprisonment. Gurukant gets paralyzed and his health fails but not in spirits; he raises up and gives voice to what he thinks is just. In the climax court room scene, the enquiry bench gives a kind hearing to Guru for 5 minutes. Guru saves all his energy for this moment and being aware that he is in front of media and people, he justifies his actions and wraps up within 4 and a half minutes circa, giving a 30 second profit to the bench! The commission shares considerate empathy in the largest interests of people. It ends up putting a fine amounting to the loss incurred by the state exchequer for the violation of procedures.

Gurukant Desai thus emerges out as a winner again and you may now go back to scene 1 of the movie. He now faces the full packed stadium with the share holders of his Shakti Parivaar and amidst loud applause, with his charisma and finesse tells them that the Parivaar would have no stopping and that he dreams to expand the buzinezz beyond the boundaries of the nation to make it the world’s numero uno!

Now coming to the other side, the criticisms, the movie goes at a horrifically slow pace. The only fast thing perhaps is the conceptualization of rags to riches transformation in a fast forward mode. You don’t have answers many of your questions. Like, what the role of Vidya Balan has to do with the plot? She came and died leaving no trace of relevance to the main track of the story. What happened to Guru’s brother-in-law, who supposedly was roped in to become Guru’s partner? Why Guru always says that he came to Bombay only with a pair of dresses (and nothing else) and built the business empire, when he actually brought the capital (Dowry money) as well. Watch the movie yourselves to get the same questions or more, sans the answers. After all it is Mani’s movie; the answers are not transparent and characteristic by their conspicuous absence. You have to imagine and substitute with the answers yourselves.

The other characteristics of Mani’s films such as, subtle emotions by the characters, soft-naughty-romance, witty dialogues, frequent use of dark background and foreground are noticeable in many occasions. I liked in particular, the dialogues – “Nazar. Theen glasses mein ek choti thhi” while winning the gambling coup, “Gurukant Desai thha Nahin, hae aur rahega”; “Mein to chalna nahin bhaagna chahta huun” when confronted whether he is careful in his steps; “Yeh to race hae aur jeetna ke liye to tej hi jaana hei” to reporters on his fast fortune; “Bus Ek Cheez. Namaste”, “Lo, maine aapko diya 30 seconds ka profit” to the enquiry commission. The characters have been portrayed well which bring life to the characters. Bachchan Junior has donned the role well and has done a commendable job with his mettle. Literally he has carried the movie on his shoulders. GURU, personally I feel leaves not a great impression, but nevertheless, it is worth giving a one time watch.

A travelogue in transit

Hi Bibs and fellow book lovers, It has been quite sometime that I had actually found some time out of the schedule that has left me pressing for time... and to be absolutely honest I had been going through some bad patch…. (hmmm … sounds familiar doesn’t it? : experts in cricket attribute the failures of our heroes’ to perform well and blame it on such Bad Patch)… I had written a small travelogue for the family and friends in my country about the wonderful experience of flying for the first time and thought that you might like it as well:
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-East 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.

Puppy love

Friends,

Thought I'd share a new story from 'Chickensoup for the soul'...quite liked it myself :)
Enjoy !!

At age thirty-two, I had just about given up on ever getting married. Over the years, I’d had numerous relationships. Some were wonderful - and some were real disasters. About the only thing they had in common was that they all ended. The entire relationship and dating scene was wearing me down. I was tired of relationships with no potential. I was weary of putting my heart out there and getting it smashed. Getting married was starting to look like it wasn’t in the stars for me. Giving up on marriage was one thing. But I wouldn’t, and couldn’t, give up on my heart. I wanted to love and be loved. I needed to nourish my heart in a way that even my best-intentioned friends and family members hadn’t done for me. I needed a dog.

Soon, on an afternoon in early May, I found myself peering into a pen on a friend’s farm, studying a litter of eight black and white puppies who were playing on and around their mother, a champion Border collie. The puppies were six weeks old and as cute as only puppies can be. I slid through the door and sat down. The puppies, wiggling with excitement and apprehension, quickly jitterbugged over to the safety of their mother’s side. All except one. The tiniest one, an almost all-black ball of downy fur with two white front paws and a white breast, came sidling over to me and crawled into my lap. I lifted her up and looked into her puppy-hazy brown eyes. It was instant love. “Just remember, Puppy, you chose me, okay?” I whispered. That was the beginning of the longest successful relationship I’ve ever had. I named my puppy Miso. The next weeks of a glorious early spring were spent basking in the glow of literal puppy love while housebreaking, training and establishing new routines. When I look back, that whole spring and summer was spent incorporating her into my life and me into hers. Miso’s Border collie heritage dictated lots of time outdoors, preferably running. I’d been eager to have company while I ran my almost-daily three to five miles in predawn darkness, and now I had a running buddy. Miso and I were out in all kinds of weather, rarely missing a day. Weekends and evenings were spent in quiet, loving solitude with Miso. At my writing desk or art table, Miso would lie relaxed at my side and sigh with contentment. Anywhere I went, Miso came too: camping, swimming at a local lake on weekends, long car rides to my parents’ home in the summer. If an activity precluded taking a dog along, I wasn’t much interested in it anyway. We were a happy couple . . . inseparable and self-sufficient. My heart was nourished, and I felt content and full. We spent two years this way.

Looking back, it’s remarkable that I met my husband-to-be at all. I certainly wasn’t looking for Mr. Right anymore, not when I was so happy being a “single mom” to Miso. Bob just kind of popped into my life, or rather, our lives, because Miso was definitely impacted by Bob’s appearance on the scene. At first, Bob accepted Miso as part of the “package.” Our dating consisted of lots of outdoor activities where Miso accompanied us easily. But as fall and winter approached, and Miso needed to be indoors more due to cold and wet weather, trouble brewed. Bob wasn’t enthusiastic about dog hair or mud on the furniture and insisted that Miso stay outside when we spent time at his house. Since the amount of time spent there was increasing, it bothered both Miso and me that she was required to stay outdoors. This was an uncomfortable blip on the radar screen of an otherwise growing and loving relationship with Bob. A crisis point was reached one particularly cold January night. Bob insisted that Miso bunk out on the enclosed porch for the night, a location Miso and I felt was unacceptable considering the temperature. I argued that anything less than Miso’s admittance to the basement was cruel and inhumane treatment. He argued that I was being unreasonable, and he felt I should respect his “house rules.” We went back and forth like two lawyers arguing a Supreme Court case. Things got heated. Tempers flared. We reached an impasse and stood, staring steely-eyed at each other. The next thing I knew I heard my own voice, thick with emotion, declare, “Don’t make me choose between you and Miso, because you may be in for an unpleasant surprise!” Bob looked shocked, and in the face of my determination, wisely backed off. Miso was admitted to the warm basement for the night. The entire indoor/outdoor Miso arrangement was renegotiated over the next couple days and we reached a satisfactory compromise for all three of us. That crisis was a turning point. I realized I had issued my ultimatum in all seriousness. Bob realized that I did not solely depend on him for love and affection - I had loyalties beyond him. And Miso found her new place in my life, no longer my one-and-only, but as a beloved member of a family for that’s what we became. Bob and I married, and soon our threesome became a foursome with the birth of our daughter. Eleven years later, Miso is over fourteen years old. Partially blind and deaf, she suffers the infirmities of old age now, enduring diabetes and arthritis with dignity and grace. The relationship between Bob and Miso has undergone an amazing transformation. Now I watch Bob tenderly guide Miso to find me when she has “misplaced me” in our house, and lovingly help her up the front steps on a rainy night. I believe Bob has grown to respect the debt he owes Miso. For Miso held a place ready in my life for Bob. She gave love a foothold. There was never any need to choose between Bob and Miso - both had already laid claim to my heart. Sometimes now I look into Miso’s eyes, which see only shadows, and speak in her ear, though I know she no longer hears, and tell her once again: “Remember, you chose me.”

Yours truly – 4

I was not at all able to concentrate on anything at all. This month I was in charge of a very important project. Manoshi was into several welfare projects funded by United Nations Development Project fund. And one of them was actually an experimental workshop for jute crafts. Manoshi had managed almost several hours of man (in fact woman) days so that the oppressed women folk for whom we fight get an even footing economically. And I was actually entrusted to do the arduous task of pouring over the finances of the project. But my work was actually not on my mind now. It was relentlessly spinning from the myriad of questions that were coming to my mind. Did Vivek know my feelings and had so come to me and only me as his friend? Why is he not going to proper authorities? Did Chandreyi really wanted a better security in terms of wealth than she had with her first hubby? Or she really had those evils machinations in her mind as Vivek is pointing to? And what or how can I help Vivek? He never pointed at any thing to be exact. My mind was going into a tizzy. It was 4 PM.
The man in Sejal’s thoughts was himself in a kind of quandary. He remembered very vividly the last time when he was in a similar situation and when he was really looking for support, this sober and sweet gujarati provided it unconditionally. May be this is what is called a reflex reaction. He had been again hurt pretty badly by the same person and he had turned to the same person for solace!! Vivek came out of the restaurant thinking all these things when suddenly he became aware then some kind of reflection getting to his eyes. It was similar what he used to do in childhood with a mirror to his father to get his attention. He squint his eyes and tried to make out the source. This part of the town was almost filled with all the types of people during lunchtime. It was very much possible that this reflection can be almost from anything. Vivek just could not make out anything in that lunch hour din. Shrugging his shoulders he went towards his rented Skoda parked in little Russel Street. He was a car freak. And that was well known within his firm. As was the norm he had kept the car at neutral so that it can be pushed a bit to make the space for other cars. After switching on the AC he was about to get the car in the drive mode, he became aware of a reflection again.
After sitting for some time with her hands on her head, Sejal went out to the cafeteria for a cup of tea. Manoshi may not have boasted of a fat pay packet but the cafeteria that she had could have made many a eye brows go up with appreciation and envy. Decorated into taste full pastel shade it provided a glamorous view of Park Street with the Victoria Memorial at its backdrop. The cuisine on offer was actually a very tasteful mixture of Bengali and non Bengali fare. The cafeteria also did boast of a good continental menu for the people who are simply health conscious. Sejal spotted Kunal Da sitting in one solitary corner and promply joined him. She always used to discuss any complex case with this person who seemed to be really a good listener. After hearing to her story Kunal da did not say anything for almost a minute. And then he suddenly started laughing. Surprised sejal gave him a questioning look. “Shejol, is this guy the same one that was once your favorite in college?” Suddenly Sejal could really feel herself blushing and that gave her away. “So you want to help this guy out, right?” Even before she could have answered he said, “But do you understand one thing – that Vivek has got almost nothing other than the bank statements to prove any charges against his wife?” Sejal knew it very well and in fact if even Vivek would have gone to the proper authorities with his allegations he would have turned down then and there. In her professional life Sejal had seen many times that although the guilt might have been equally shared by the lady, when it came to penalty it had been always the lord of the house who was laid on sacrificial alter. In fact in India the law is very much biased towards the fairer ones. ”But Kunal Da, there should be something that can be done – isn’t it?” she asked nervously. “ Yeah!! Something could be done always. But before I comment any further I want to know what is there in your mind? Have you told Vivek about your feelings? Because being a man myself I can understand that if Vivek would have known about your feelings, he would have never approached you at all.” Sejal knew that fact very well.
After looking here and there for some time suddenly Vivek spotted the source of reflection. It was coming from the rear view mirror of a steel grey Maruti 800 two cars in front of him. The driver seemed to be adjusting the mirror. Shrugging his shoulders he started his own vehicle and careened into the post lunch rush of cars. He was actually heading towards the Emami office at R N Mukherjee road. P&G and Emani had been co-branding their products for a long time. If you buy soap from P&G stable you get an Emami all purpose cream. And going by the Asian mentality of striking the bargain always both P&G and Emami was benefited well from the association. He took up the through fare on the side of Raj Bhawan and was actually concentrating on the road, when suddenly he spotted a steel grey Maruti coming a bit behind him. There are so many steel grey cars of the same make in Kolkata that he had not paid any heed to it. But then he noticed that one side of the car behind him had the same scratch that he had notice in the Maruti with reflecting rear view mirrors in Little Russell Street. Just to be sure that he had something at all to do this, he eased on the accelerator paddle. And not surprising as he thought the car behind him did the same too. Through his rear view mirror he saw that the driver was a middle aged person. Although his could spot the attire properly, he could see that the man was sporting a sun glass and was clean shaven.
Sejal heard her phone ringing and started to pick it up when she noticed the number flashing in the display. It was Vivek’s. She took the call and after hearing to the other end almost all blood drained away from her face. “What is the matter, Sejal?” Kunal asked looking at the change in expression. “Vivek is been followed around the town.” “ And where is he going right now?” Kunal asked quickly. On hearing the destination, Kunal thought over it for a second. And then suddenly he took out his cell phone and rang up someone. He gave the person on the other end the gist of the situation and then hung up. “ “C’mon, let’s move”. Taking a bewildered Sejal in his wings, they went at a brisk pace towards Sejal’s car where luckily they found Savitri enjoying a bit of after noon nap. “ “Shabitri, please take us to R N Mukherjee road now.” Kunal barked a command. Although surprised Savitri got the car on gear and they all started off towards their destination. Vivek was actually in two minds. Whether to go towards his destination and make the meeting or should he try and inform the authorities about the whole thing? Although a bit afraid he was also feeling angry at being tailed like this. And at any cost he could not let go of the pursuer before he heard from Sejal. He was very near to the Chandni Chowk Metro Station when suddenly his mobile started ringing. Expecting Sejal to be on line, he picked up the phone and said hello. “So Vicky Basu, do you think that you can get away from me so easily using that b**ch?” The caller was Chandreyi and her voice sounded ominous.

Yours truly – 3

What will anyone call a girl who is craving to take the head of a totally unknown boy on her breasts, as the tears keep rolling down the cheeks of that boy heartbreakingly? Shameless I guess. But at that point of time Sejal, twenty two springs old was already feeling that the organ on the left of her body was actually missing. Yes I am talking same organ that pumps blood into veins and always becomes a favorite target of a boy-god. But Vivek was such a person I just could not manage enough courage to do what I have contemplated. Instead I went off to canteen and bought two nice cups of tea and handed one over to Vivek. He took it without question, drank it and left the place even without thanking me, which any way I was not expecting.
People undergo lots of emotions when they are in love. But the only emotion that I was suffering from was anger at what was being done to Vivek. I could see through his eyes that he will never be able to trust a girl fully. Every time any one of the female students went to him to talk Vivek became strangely cold. All other times no one could have matched him with his ready wit and the sparkle of a pure soul. Vivek topped his class and after receiving an immense job offer to be a Brand Manager for Procter and Gamble in Cincinnati never looked back and took off for US. That was in 2002. After listening to his voice almost after 4 and half years I was not only excited but curious as well to know what Vad is doing nowadays and why should he need me at all!
I found him sitting at the corner table for two in the discreetly tucked away restaurant called Peter Cat. In front of him was a half drunk glass of an orange liquid. He seemed so much lost in thought that he did not even noticed me till I took my seat in front of him and wished him a god afternoon. “Oh! Hi Sejal, this place had not lost its charm at all. I can still smell the mouth-watering sizzlers being cooked somewhere.” He took a swig of his drink which by then I knew was screwdriver – a cocktail made from orange juice and vodka. Although clean shaven he was looking haggard in a way. Black spots were in the making under the eyes; his impeccable dressing sense was not quiet there as well. “So where you now and what are are you doing, dude, “I asked in a light tone. As if talking in a trance he replied “Well, I am still with Procter and Gamble.” “Currently I am visiting Indian metros in order to promote a fairness product for men.” “Good to know that now even men might feel to become fairer, isn’t it? I told in jest. He smiled. The same lop sided careless grin that made many a legs turn to jelly. Although captivated I knew that I have only an hour maximum to spare. “Tell me how come you remember me after so long a time?”. As soon as I uttered this sentence all signs of happiness seemed to drain out his face. Vivek replied “Sejal, do you and Manoshi only fight for women in distress?” I was taken aback by his question. It is true that most of the time we have found women at the receiving end of different types of mistreatments. Me and my colleagues have actually never been approached with anything different. So I replied “Yes. Currently we are only having the women as clients.” “But what happens if a man comes down to you with the same kind of problems – is there any policy in your organization restricting you from taking the case?” I admitted that actually I have not come across any such kind of biased policy. Manoshi was actually more of a counseling house to oversee that the social texture and composition of a country as vast and diverse as India remains strong. As society forms a strong base in the growth of a country. In fact that was what our mission statement says in gist. I looked at my watch and saw that I have only about half an hour left. “Vivek, Can you please state your problem?” May be I can try and help you out as a friend.” Vivek stared blankly for a few seconds as if trying to recollect something and then he started to talk. “Sejal, you know that after I got hold of a job with P&G I moved on to Cincinnati. This move was more of a kind of an escapist effort than anything else. I wanted to run away from anything and anyplace that reminded me of Chandreyi. And let me tell you after starting to work, I made sure that I work so hard that no such thoughts of betrayal can occupy my mind. After an year or more I was visiting New York City for a trade promotion conference on my company’s behalf. The conference sponsors kept us all in the Grand Hyatt. It was 8 PM in the evening of a bleak winter day; I received a call from the hotel reception that a lady wants to meet me. I was in my sleeping suit. Surprised, I just put on my pull over and went downstairs. One look at the lady and my heart skipped not one but all the beats. It was Chandreyi, and her sweetness now have come a matured beauty. She was dressed in a black top and skirt and looking younger but mature more than she ever had. All the blood must have drained out from my face. As the receptionist apologized profusely and told me that the way this lady insisted on meeting me, she had no option left other than to give me the buzz. Noticing the awkward situation and people looking at us curiously, I smiled wanly at Chandreyi and asked her to step into the coffee shop, which was more or less empty for residents were busy in the lunch room. I ordered and got two cups of coffee. While adding sugar and milk to mine I looked at her in anticipation. My mind was totally in a chaos. “Hi Vivek, how are you doing?” she asked softly. “Fine,” I said. And for the next two minutes almost we did not speak. Then she said that “Vivek, I am sorry for meeting you like this. I actually work in the ROSS store opposite to the convention center where I saw you by chance today. I know that after what I have done to you there is now way that I can ask for any forgiveness. But then the Almighty have also punished me like anything for my cruelty.” She stopped and tears started rolling down her cheeks silently. “
After stating till now, Vivek stopped as well. I asked him, “then what did you do?” he gave a wry smile and then said; “Chandreyi and Sourav after marriage came down to USA and had started living life happily. It was during the Christmas holidays in the year 2003, they went a camping tour to India. They were visiting the Himachal Pradesh in a place call Fagu. This was a place where they were taking skiing lessons as well. One fine morning Sourav complained of severe chest pain. He just could not even speak properly because of the pain. After taking him to the Military Command hospital he was diagnosed with acute pneumonia. And after fighting for life for about two days, he died. After this terrible mishap Chandreyi thought about staying back in India forever. But she needed to come back to USA for tying up few loose ends. And she also took up a part time job in a retail shop just to forget the emotional pain, when she saw me. Naturally I was very much moved by her story and told her to be in touch regarding any help she needed from me. From time to time I started visiting her in New York and within a month or two, I proposed to her and she accepted. We got married and settled down in Cincinnati. A very happy ending to what started off as a tragedy in my life, right?” Vivek looked at me intently.
From my experience in marital discords I can smell out that all was not hunky-dory even after the revival of long lost love. There was more to it or otherwise I would not be sitting in front of Vivek. To be very frank and honest the other Sejal in front of me was becoming restless right from the time Vivek brought upon the topic of that wretched girl. And when I heard that they were married, I was almost too eager to hear the adverb “unhappily” more than the other one. Moving my eyes from Vivek’s stare I rebuked myself inwardly. “What has happened to me? Just for my own sake I am actually wishing ill for Vivek, one person whom I will always remember dearly forever?” I took control over myself with some effort. Vivek had already started continuing. “First six months of our conjugal life was really a great experience for me. I almost forgot any unpleasant experience that I might have endured in the past. I almost thanked God for the opportunity that was given to me. Chandreyi now Chandra for me was the best life partner that I could have dreamt of having. One thing that I noticed but never paid any heed to was the way she used to spend money on costly things and services etc. I always used to think that to have a trophy wife like her one has to make these concessions. It was exactly about 6 months from our marriage I received a call from the manager of my bank asking for an immediate meeting. Sejal, I was not only surprised but also shattered to learn that not only Chandra had withdrawn large sums of money from our joint account; she had also deposited the money to another account at New York as well. I could have understood her spending more money. But depositing the same money to another account to which I have no access or knowledge of was really something strange. I took a leave from work and got hold of her at our house. “Look Viv, I did not do anything out of character. I have already suffered from the sudden death of my first hubby and hence wanted to make sure that my future is secure enough in the eventuality of your death”. I was stunned but still keeping my cool I asked her knowing very well that she will be already be covered by the insurance that I have taken on me, why did she look out for more insurance. And believe me Sejal her face and voice changed totally and then she said with a hiss “Viv I have known you since college days and have always counted you as a loser, hence I have the right to look after my well being at least”. In a fit of rage we separated and started spending life separately. In between I needed to come down to India on business. Even without my invitation she had tagged on and now she is staying in separate rooms in the same hotel providing her maiden name in the register. I am in such a mental turmoil that I can now understand that I have nowhere to go. In this world most of the marital discord rules are heavily biased towards women and in case of a divorce she might rinse me dry of money. And now currently I have another big fear as well. I am not sure why but I have this feeling that what happens if I face the same fate as her first husband had faced?”
I can never forget that the look in Vivek’s face. It was the not only the look of a person who had being cheated badly twice but also the look of a prisoner on a death row, who knows that there is no stopping the inevitable. “Vivek”, I said “Before commenting anything on this unhappy episode of your life, I would like to know how come you thought of coming to me and more so how did you find me?” “Sejal, you are not the first person I have shared my woes. I went off to visit my pal from engineering, Neel, the same guy you have also met during our MBA and currently he is working in the ITC building very near to your office. After listening to my story he was one who suggested that I should visit you. When I came to your office I was confused about which floor your office should be as Manoshi has three floors in the same building. So I waited and saw the only women chauffer among all the men. You can say that knowing you very well I took a chance and went and asked her whether that was your car. After getting no reply I went to the second floor reception and asked for your office number. The lady in the reception was helpful enough and gave me your home phone number as well. “Now that’s the Vivek we all know. Getting anything done using charm and intelligence is like his second nature”, I thought. “Why did not you come to my office?” I asked. “ because I am not a woman and I do not have any proof that I am right and lastly, I did not want any problems as my company is specific about these things, Vivek replied. “OK Vivek, how long you are staying here?” “Another three days maximum and I am off to Delhi.” “OK. Give me some time and your contact number as well. I need to hurry. I will get in touch with you soon. Do not worry and be brave”. The last lines were exactly the same ones that I have uttered about three years back to a weeping boy of 22 behind a college canteen.

Yours truly - 2

"Hi..err.can I borrow your SM notes please?" Vivek was totally taken aback. A first year electrical engineering student was asking some lecture notes from a second year mechanical student. This is something not only surprising but ridiculous as well. Vivek Basu was a second year student of Jalpaiguri Government Engineering College. The general saying goes he was one of the brightest students that JGEC had ever had. His strong point was not actually studies but his personality. And this never meant that he has flunked in exams. Actually he always used to find a respectable place within the top 20 students in the college. Although he never stood first in studies when it came to winning debates, extempore and creative writing he just never had a match. He started his flare for extra-curricular activities long way back when he was actually 10 years old. It all started with an essay that he wrote regarding street children in the children’s supplement called "VOICES" for the revered English daily The Statesman. He was commended highly by none other than the eminent figure of CR Irani - the editor of the newspaper. From then onwards he did not have to look back and never had to ask a pocket money from his parents. What started off as just a childish essay became a daily activity for Vivek. He used to cover all the major entertainment events in Kolkata right from the age of 15 and became known to most of the city’s glitterati pretty fast. And his good looks as well added to his popularity. So much so, when DD Chanel 2 was looking up for a newsreader for their much vaunted Bengali news event, he almost became an automatically choice for them. At the age of eighteen, when all others of his age were actually mugging up IIT or WB Joint "made easy"s he was actually spending his time in front of camera donning an immaculate suit a bit large for his size and reading Bengali news in front of him.
Vivek lost his mother at a very tender age. And his father was everything in his life. Being a mechanical engineer himself and a successful one at that, he wanted his son to carry on the legacy. Although Vivek was earning much more than he would have done after 4 years engineering, he knew that nothing will satisfy his father unless he at least becomes a MECH - as they call the mechanical engineers. He also knew that he can carry the vocation that he liked much in spite of giving 4 years of his life as well. Every one starting from Mani Ratnam to Anil Kumble came to his mind and provided him the much needed support. And lastly he loved his father so much that he can go till any limits to put a smile in his face. He started preparation for the West Bengal Joint Entrance late, just about 4 months before it actually happened. After the exam was over he continued with some of the assignments that he has already taken, but did not take any new ones. When the results came out he saw that as expected he had a rank of 1134. This did not leave any option to study mechanical any where else other than this JGEC. So on the August of 1996 he packed his hold-all and took the train called Teesta-Torsa from Sealdah to the Jalpaiguri Road Station, where his college was. His father showed false strength in the railway station knowing that now he would become lonelier and blessed his son to go and become a MECH.
They all say and rightly that it is impossible to hide a flare of talent be it anywhere. It was during the rigorous ragging period of one month Vivek became hot favorites of the seniors in the college because of his ready wit and personality in the face of several odds to slaps, kicks, doing odd jobs and still getting the slaps. He never lost his cool and once he really entertained a bunch of savages from the second year hostel with all the idiosyncrasies of the media people for about one hour and actually managed to save the skins of many of his batch mates instantly catapulting him to a hero status.
The ragging period ended with the ceremonial dip in the pond more to actually drive away the stench of the same clothes worn for about a month than anything else and the class of 1996 JGEC Mechs started their journey.
Vivek took a good look at the girl standing in front of him. Chandreyi Roy had caused a lot of heart burns among both her own batch mates as well as some of the senior students (all males off course). Most of their advances had been met with such a cold shoulder that there was not a single chance left for them. Debating on the girl’s motive he looked around himself. Not so far away he can see some girls both senior and juniors were actually peeping out of the vast balcony of the electrical department. The he looked behind and saw some of his own batch mates are grinning very sheepishly. A bit confused he asked her " But you have only EM ( engineering mechanics) in your course and not SM (Strength of Materials), SM is totally a waste for you! " he added hopefully, so that he can frighten the girl about the folly she is going to commit. Chandreyi was a bit red in face and sweating a little. She straightened the V of her palloo and removed the errant strand of hair from her face and flashed her best smile ( which she very well knew is capable of killing anything and anyone with a brain within a periphery of 100 feet) and nasally squeaked, " Vivek, Will you or Won’t you give your SM Notes to me pleaseee".
Vivek heard and saw everything and then just to end the conversation he said, "Please try and understand, I do not have any clue whether you will really need it or not, but then as you are asking for it, do one thing please. Take it from Smita, your senior from Mech second year, as she has already photo copied the same from me about a week back. Ok? And I am getting late for my class. Bye" With that he turned and went straight towards his class leaving behind a few giggles and a very distraught girl.
It was final year for Vivek and it was festival time for the college. The JGEC fest is counted among the best of the cultural events happening in the North Bengal region. And
Looking at his charisma he was made the cultural secretary. This was again a post which actually made him do a few more rounds of the girl’s hostel than he would have liked. From childhood he had been very shy of girls. As he grew up this shyness became almost like a shield for him. He knew that he likes to entertain people, do something creative. But in front of the fairer ones he became helplessly tongue tied.
It was a cold November evening when he needed to go to the LH or Ladies’ Hostel in short to distribute some of the advertisement forms. It was around 7 PM and he found that there is almost no light at all in the place. "WBSEB has again done it", he thought. He saw light coming out of the waiting room cum common room and went towards it. It was the first time he was entering LH. On getting into the common room he got a very sweet smell unlike the smell of sweat and rustic that comes out of the common room of the men’s hostels. Everything starting from the carom board to the settee was decorated in a very tasteful but frugal way. The he had a look towards light source and gasped inwardly. It was Chandreyi sitting on the paper room’s chair and table. She wore a velvety kind of a night dress and was actually reading something. Listening to his footsteps she looked up. "Where is the supervisor?" He muttered, and then remembering that he should speak up and well with a lady as taught by his father, he said "Hi Chandreyi, I actually came to distribute some of these advertising pamphlets". Chandreyi was still looking at him. Finding no response he said impatiently, "I am going away and will come back some other time" and turned. "Hold on please and give them to me" he heard. She has stood up and for the first time Vivek smiled effortlessly in front of a girl. She came to Vivek and stretched her hand. Noticing her fair complexion, Vivek gave the ad-cards to her. Instead of taking the cards Chandreyi took Vivek’s Hand and in a flash almost threw herself to Vivek’s chest. Vivek was caught unaware and his first reaction was actually to hold Chandreyi with two hands lest he should fall. Losing no pace Chandreyi planted a kiss on Vivek’s lips. The sweet fragrance coming out of her hair, the wamth of her body and the beating of his own heart almost took Vivek in a trance like state. He did not notice whether it was 2 seconds or minutes or hours, but it felt like heaven almost. When Vivek tried to look into Chandreyi’s eyes she will not look up. So Vivek almost forcefully took her chin up just to find that she was smiling with tears. Cupid had made the first strike. Vivek took Chandreyi’s hand and came out of the LH. It was still dark. And then they started walking hand in hand through a solitary lane within the college campus. Not finding any words Vivek said "where are the other people in the LH?" "They have gone for a small party to celebrate the hostel’s 10th year in existence". "You stayed behind?" "Yes, I am still running a bit of fever". Vivek was worried and said that "Then I should not have brought you outside in this cold. " Let us get back". "NOOO", she said and embraced Vivek sideways.
When it was time for Vivek to leave the campus, Vivek was totally sure that his love for Chandreyi was strong enough to be carried over to the next level which is the commitment to stay together for a lifetime. She had still one year to complete her engineering and he had got through one of the premier B-Schools in Kolkata. Although he was pained by the distance separating both of them he was sure that when they will meet they will be for each other. Chandreyi was always the stronger willed partner of the two and she told Vivek in very clear words that Vivek should go and concentrate only on his post graduation while she completes her course. They will be in touch with each other through mails, chat and phone. And also when Chandreyi will go to Kolkata they can always find a quiet place together to share everything. So off went Vivek to get into the world of business management. It was July 2000.
They were keeping in touch with each other for about 2 months when suddenly Chandreyi totally went of the radar. Vivek took it as a simple case of giving the studies the first priority. About 4 months went by. Vivek was completing the grueling first semester. Like in engineering college, he gained popularity in the b-school as well through his winning personality and bagged a lot of intra-college management event prizes as well. He was almost a natural in the skills of marketing and convincing. And he actually now loved what he was studying. His worries about his love started when he came to know from his juniors that although Chandreyi had visited Kolkata as many as two times she did not even thought of giving him a call. He sent mails, tried to call up the ladies’ hostel. But nothing came to his avail. Chandreyi it seems that, have severed all links. He was worried and by the end of the second semester his grade took a bit of hit as well. Although he never knew what went wrong, he had his doubts that her feelings about him were actually a kind of hero-worshipping and not love. In his batch of management students there was a girl called Sejal Shah. Although Sejal was gunning for a specialization in HR in the first semester itself they were together for different group activities because of the proximity of their role numbers. Although the girl was not as sweet as Chandreyi, she had an air of sobriety and truthfulness around her which made many a people to share many of their personal thoughts. Vivek knew that Sejal liked him but was lady enough never to let her wish known to him. But his mind was full of Chandreyi - her laughter, her frowning, her touch everything. It was Sejal only who found Vivek hidden and with tears rolling down his cheeks behind the canteen. It was to Sejal then Vivek shared the truth that the final nail in coffin of his love had been driven. He had received the communication that Chandreyi was getting married to an NRI that November of 2001. And what pained Vivek’s conscience more so that Chandreyi had known her husband to-be from her childhood. Sejal had no words of consolation, none at all.