Set in post-apartheid South Africa, Nobel Prize winning author J.M. Coetzee’s second novel ‘Disgrace’ won the Booker Prize in 1999, the same year in which it was published. Such illustrious credentials and sheer curiosity prompted me to pick up the book from a local book-store a few months ago. What I did not expect was a hard-hitting, no-bones-spared story of a Cape Town University College professor, David Lurie, whose life would take a sudden dip into the murky waters of ethical conflicts, post-apartheid violence, and insecurity, finally sinking into a vast lake of disgrace before emerging stronger and more resilient.
David Lurie, who has long been planning to write a chamber opera on the life of the poet Byron, is fifty-two, divorced, lonely and bored. His classes evoke no response from his students and teaching is a mere means of livelihood. A chance meeting with an attractive student in his class leads to an affair, which upon discovery provokes a suspension from the university on grounds of misconduct. As the nNews spreads round the university campus and makes it to the newspapers, the disgraced professor leaves town to join his young daughter Lucy in the town of Salem where she has chosen to live alone and raise a farm. Life in the farm is sedentary and un-eventful until an incident of unimaginable terror rips apart their lives. Father and daughter are attacked by a band of natives who rob the house, nearly kill him while raping the daughter and leaving her pregnant.
As they struggle to pick up the remaining bits of their lives, David Lurie is tormented by Lucy’s indifference to the incident. She knows the culprits and yet neither she nor her neighbors try to denounce them. As the father of a daughter who has been subject to such a heinous crime, David Lurie is helpless because he was unable to protect her then and avenge the atrocity now. Instead, he watches impatiently, as life gets back to normal in the farm and Lucy decides to go ahead and give birth to the child she is carrying.
Disgrace portrays the angst ridden world of the white population in post-apartheid South Africa. Once the powerful class, they are now the centre of a backlash which they cannot withstand. David Lurie’s inability to come to terms with the power shift and his daughter’s acceptance of the ways of the new country is the totem pole of the novel. The novel examines the sentiments of the native population that is friendly with the white on personal terms but has no generic empathy for the community. Coetzee’s novels typically push the protagonist with their back to the wall only to watch them fight or come to terms with the humiliation and indignation of their circumstances. In this novel, Lucy’s rapist turns out to be the fifteen year old brother-in-law of her neighbor. After the incident, the neighbor offers to marry Lucy even though he has two other wives. He wishes to own her land in dowry and in exchange, protect her from such miscreants in the future. David Lurie who has sufficient money to send his daughter to Holland where she can go back to a normal civilized life has to reconcile with this unusual situation when his daughter accepts the offer.
The analogy between strange twists and turns of David Lurie's life and that of the poet Byron influences the opera that he is composing. Where he once planned to write about the eternal love between Byron and his mistress Teresa, he now depicts pain and agony as they separate and their desires remain unfulfilled. As Allegra, Byron’s five year daughter lies dying of malaria and cries for her father, David Lurie’s own helplessness and frustration at his daughter’s condition creeps in front.
Disgrace is an excellent novel written in a mere two hundred and twenty pages. Coetzee’s deep understanding of Romantic literature and lucid language ooze the right emotions and provide the perfect setting for the story of a father and daughter who learn to put the past behind, after their lives have been shattered by disgrace.
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Daylight Savings Time
Daylight Savings Time it has been argued has many benefits in countries in the northern hemisphere where advanced economy and work conditions demand such an adjustment. Suddenly, you wake up one morning at 7am and realize that its after all only 6am and go back to sleep or worse wake up at 7am to realize that it is 8am and you are horribly late. Over the years, people have got used to it and accepted it. But it is not so in India. In a country which spans across three time zones – literally Manipur is to the east of Bangladesh which is half an hour ahead of us and Gujarat is below Pakistan which is half an hour behind IST – we have shown lethargy akin to inertia in implementing this concept. So what would happen if suddenly one day we implemented DST?
The ruling party would lose the next general election. Minorities would move to Supreme Court crying foul over discrimination because many would have never seen a digital watch in their lifetime. The government would pass a law that by March 31st everyone should buy HMT manufactured DST compliant watches which the CPI(M) would oppose as being as being pro-America. Mamata Banerjee would declare a 24 hour bandh in Kolkata which would be supported by all opposition parties. Meanwhile, Titan would protest over the deal to grant HMT the right to manufacture DST compliant watches. Several MPs would resign and go to jail over the DST contract scam.
When DST would actually be implemented, there would be a grand launch party where Shah Rukh Khan would dance to the songs of his latest movie and say “Kuch aur wish karo, DST karo!” and Amitabh Bachchan would hold a platinum wrist watch in his hands and smile “Do DST ke boondh, zindagi ke liye” The annual Filmfare awards would be held twice a year on DST implementation days which Aamir Khan would not attend because he never believed in such awards while Arundhati Roy and Medha Patkar would stand outside the auditorium and protest that DST would harm the environment. Ekta Kapoor would modify the script of Kasauti Zindagi Ki where Prerna would marry Bajaj in one DST phase and Anurag in the other. Rohit Bal, Neeta Lulla and Sabyasachi Mukherjee would design a DST line of clothes for the next fashion week where Shahid Kapur and Saif Ali Khan would walk the ramp while Kareena Kapoor would cheer from the sidelines. Dev Anand would make a new movie called “Love in DST” starring a 16 year old girl who was born when 6am became 7am.
Our day and night cricket matches would be scheduled by DST and senior cricketers would not play test matches citing injury, while junior captains would declare that only young cricketers whose bodies can adjust to DST will be a part of the team. The hockey and football federations would protest that in addition to giving preferential treatment to cricket, DST was another means to make these sports unpopular. Sania Mirza would be sued for wearing a DST compliant watch sporting the Indian tricolor that would fall from her wrist during a match. Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupati would once again team up to face the challenge of playing under DST circumstances. The Indian Olympic Association would declare that with DST, India is now truly world standard, and therefore demand that ‘pittu’ be made an Olympic sport.
The common man would be totally confused because Doordarshan would forget to adjust the clock as per DST while the private channels would remember. Aaj Tak would interview people about how they felt about DST. Vodafone and Airtel would face a network outage on DST days and nobody would know the time. Anil Ambani would buy a Rs. 10,000crore DST clock that he would install outside his corporate office and name it after Tina. The Mumbai Stock Exchange would lose an hour on DST days and people would howl in distress because they lost crores in a bullish market. Government employees would demand and be granted overtime in winter. The chief agenda in the opposition party’s election manifesto would be to have two new national holidays on DST implementation days. Well, thank God! No one’s thought of DST as yet!
Disclaimer:
This piece was inspired during a conversation with the great Oirpus. Not only is this piece dedicated to him, all litigators are requested to contact Oirpus.
The ruling party would lose the next general election. Minorities would move to Supreme Court crying foul over discrimination because many would have never seen a digital watch in their lifetime. The government would pass a law that by March 31st everyone should buy HMT manufactured DST compliant watches which the CPI(M) would oppose as being as being pro-America. Mamata Banerjee would declare a 24 hour bandh in Kolkata which would be supported by all opposition parties. Meanwhile, Titan would protest over the deal to grant HMT the right to manufacture DST compliant watches. Several MPs would resign and go to jail over the DST contract scam.
When DST would actually be implemented, there would be a grand launch party where Shah Rukh Khan would dance to the songs of his latest movie and say “Kuch aur wish karo, DST karo!” and Amitabh Bachchan would hold a platinum wrist watch in his hands and smile “Do DST ke boondh, zindagi ke liye” The annual Filmfare awards would be held twice a year on DST implementation days which Aamir Khan would not attend because he never believed in such awards while Arundhati Roy and Medha Patkar would stand outside the auditorium and protest that DST would harm the environment. Ekta Kapoor would modify the script of Kasauti Zindagi Ki where Prerna would marry Bajaj in one DST phase and Anurag in the other. Rohit Bal, Neeta Lulla and Sabyasachi Mukherjee would design a DST line of clothes for the next fashion week where Shahid Kapur and Saif Ali Khan would walk the ramp while Kareena Kapoor would cheer from the sidelines. Dev Anand would make a new movie called “Love in DST” starring a 16 year old girl who was born when 6am became 7am.
Our day and night cricket matches would be scheduled by DST and senior cricketers would not play test matches citing injury, while junior captains would declare that only young cricketers whose bodies can adjust to DST will be a part of the team. The hockey and football federations would protest that in addition to giving preferential treatment to cricket, DST was another means to make these sports unpopular. Sania Mirza would be sued for wearing a DST compliant watch sporting the Indian tricolor that would fall from her wrist during a match. Leander Paes and Mahesh Bhupati would once again team up to face the challenge of playing under DST circumstances. The Indian Olympic Association would declare that with DST, India is now truly world standard, and therefore demand that ‘pittu’ be made an Olympic sport.
The common man would be totally confused because Doordarshan would forget to adjust the clock as per DST while the private channels would remember. Aaj Tak would interview people about how they felt about DST. Vodafone and Airtel would face a network outage on DST days and nobody would know the time. Anil Ambani would buy a Rs. 10,000crore DST clock that he would install outside his corporate office and name it after Tina. The Mumbai Stock Exchange would lose an hour on DST days and people would howl in distress because they lost crores in a bullish market. Government employees would demand and be granted overtime in winter. The chief agenda in the opposition party’s election manifesto would be to have two new national holidays on DST implementation days. Well, thank God! No one’s thought of DST as yet!
Disclaimer:
This piece was inspired during a conversation with the great Oirpus. Not only is this piece dedicated to him, all litigators are requested to contact Oirpus.
Saturday, December 29, 2007
The return of the prodigal (sic) administrator
Oh my god!! It is cloudy and snowing heavily in Minneapolis. I have some work to do. But the key board is trying to bite my fingers. My mind is lingering. It is lingering over so many things. But then when I came to this blog by ordinary people with extraordinary senses / feelings, I felt alive again. I can type now. Thanks to all of you for listening/reading my gibberish. But I am back and this time I am sure about it..
On a saner thought, great show guys... keep it up..
On a saner thought, great show guys... keep it up..
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
ON A LEECHY TRAIL….
One of the brightest members of the trek club – The Initiator had an idea to conduct a trip to this unexplored and inaccessible place. He shared his vision with another bright member – The Dependable, and that is how idea was born and as is said great achievements are a result of great ideas and rest they say is history…..
For conduction of the Trek cum Camping cum Rock Climbing cum crossing the river activities a well know mountaineering firm(Chandannagar Mountaineering Association) was roped for technical assistance – Camping, Rock Climbing, Crossing the River sessions. There were a lot of speculations and hindrances and eve of our departure came closer. Initially it was rain lashing the Eastern and North-Eastern part of the country, when the weather started to look good few days before we were about to start another bomb dropped – the remarks made by a privately owned Delhi based FM channel regarding Indian Idol -3 Prashant Tamang’s Nepali origin. It spread like fire and it rocked our expectation’s boat so hard that it was nearly capsizing. But we put our fears and pessimism aside and started for the even which we have been waiting for.
Finally 18 of us made to the Sealdah station, to board the train to New Jalpaiguri. The author was in constant touch with the support team which had already reached the source of the trek a day ahead regarding the situation at that place. Lot of the dust and panic created had already settled down by the time we reached New Jalpaiguri Station. The Vehicles were already waiting for us to take us from the hustle-bustle of the Siliguri town. Off we went to our destination for the day- Aritar. It’s a small village in Sikkim at 5050 ft. We camped at the banks of very enchanting and beautiful lake “Lambpokhri” (meaning: lamb – long, pokhri – lake). It was a great experience and we matched the occasion with a huge enthusiasm. Our guides from CMA told us about the camping discipline, how to pack our rucksacks, protection against leeches and intricacies of trekking. Evening was to be remembered with Swinging dance from all of us, a calm walk across the “Lambpokhri” to the silent Monastery and the night was dedicated to our very own renowned singer “Kishore Kumar”.
Spending the night in a tent was a first experience for most of us; excitement was in the air as we all receded to our tents. No pillows for the night-Need to sleep tight inside the sleeping bag.
Next day morning some of us (early-risers) went to watch the sunrise from watch towers nearby while rest (lazy-bones) of us went for a warming up session. We then had a quick breakfast not to mention people attended their nature-calls at a record time. Then we were ready to go ahead with the trek.
We started very slowly – we were able to trek only 1.5 km in the first hour but eventually we gained speed and then we were doing well even in rough patches. Few of us had a leechy welcome. We rested at a few points during the trek to appreciate the nature and study the local customs and their daily life.
By 1 pm in the afternoon we reached Mulkharka, a village in West Bengal at a height of about 8550 ft. We were about to go ahead with camping in one of the rice fields but leeches had already made life difficult. Finally we decided to stay in a villager’s house that had 3 spare rooms. The sense of humanity at this height touched us deep inside. They a quite a few toddlers and few grown up children; who became a part of our group. It was a great evening for us all we sang beside the camp fire singing Nepali, Bengali and Hindi songs. Some of us even took to tap a few steps. Meanwhile leeches had done a good job to toast the evening with our blood. Nights were cold and had a lot to offer. An innumerable lot of pranks were played if written; this article would take seven nights and seven days to complete.
In the morning around 4-30 am we started for the “Mulkharka Lake” , its one of the places where you would be able to see a reflection of the Kanchendzonga range on the lake. It’s a sight to behold. Just as we were about to start for the lake we saw a wonderful sight the clouds uncovered the Kanchendzonga range and white peaks were visible. There is only one word describe the scene –“Exhilarating”. This sight motivated us a lot and initiated a jump and eagerness to see the reflection on the lake.
Things were not rosy for all of us. Few of us who started late had a terrible experience. Looking at terrain and less visibility in the wee hours of morning added to it the cloud cover which decreased the visibility even further got lost in the way. Basically there was no trek route as such it was steep climb. It was a very frightening experience with leeches crawling around making its way to your legs and you have lost the way in between. Mobile phones came out and help was sought. Finally one of the guides came and ended the ordeal- showed the correct path to the lake.
Once we reached the lake there was a hide and seek game being played by the clouds which alluded some us the glimpse of the Kanchendzonga peak. But the experience was very fascinating. There was a lot of shutterbugs clicking near the lake. Once we reached our base in Mulkharka, it was “Remove all Leeches” that was being telecasted in all channels. I mean everybody had a leech as souvenir. Everybody has been struck by 10-20 leeches at least.
Few of our guides did the first aid and attended to all of us though they too had been beaten badly. We were in for a long haul then – attend to our injuries, have breakfast and take the way back to Aritar and then to Reshi. The trek back to Aritar had a look of “Come what may”, after our leech ordeal everybody was tough enough to take up any challenges. On the way to Aritar we met another canine friend aptly named “Tuffy” and he followed us upto the resort where we had light refreshments. After refreshment we board a vehicle to reach Reshi.
The name of the place “Reshi” come from the river “Reshi” which flows through the banks of the town. We went to the Green Valley camp in Reshi Valley. The path was through dense grassland which made the walk even more thrilling. Finally when we reached the resort it was a delightful sight. We couldn’t believe that we were supposed to camp beside the river.
Before the trainers from CMA called us for rock climbing most us had quick splash at the Reshi River. The water was cold but once one gets used to it was a very enjoyable. After a quick bath we went for the rock climbing session, the rock was not high enough but it gave us a good opportunity to learn the basics as most of us were novices in this field. Few of us went in deep thought by gazing in the river. It helps in introspection of our deeds.
As the sun went down festivities followed, a camp fire was made and we all sat beside it singing and cracking jokes. Eventually we shifted to a more appealing place – The watch tower in the resort. Without saying “Antakshari” followed with some special clues and conditions. It was really of great fun, we enjoyed to the hilt. As night set it, few of went to tents few decided to spent the night in the watch tower itself.
Early morning, we woke up with a heavy heart. After all, the fun filled days were coming to an end. We still wanted to make the most of our last day. We had a crossing the river session for us and if the river was ravaging Reshi it was sure going to a awesome experience. We rushed to the spot where the session was to held.
Now it was time to have the rush of blood run through the brain. It was a fantastic experience for all of us. First few moments hanging from rope gives one a big “High”. Then one has to cross the river monkey crawling while the river rages below. The sense accomplishment is at its all time high once one crosses the river. Few of were so ecstatic that they made it twice across. Finally it was turn of the trainers to show their skill – they were terrific.
After the session it was time for river splashing and lunch. Then it was time for us to leave this heavenly abode and proceed to our home. We had a saddened feeling while leaving, most of us wanted to stay on for another day but that was not to be. On our way back we stopped at Rangpo and few of bought Tea from the famous Temi gardens of Sikkim. As we left Rangpo we found ourselves admiring the effervescent and meandering Teesta. By evening we reached New Jalapaiguri from where we took our train to reach Sealdah.
There were few things worth remembering namely “gaon walaon”, “maine sab paudhe me pani pata diya hai" and above all as commented by one of our very own treekers “maine do raat se soya nahi hai”.
For conduction of the Trek cum Camping cum Rock Climbing cum crossing the river activities a well know mountaineering firm(Chandannagar Mountaineering Association) was roped for technical assistance – Camping, Rock Climbing, Crossing the River sessions. There were a lot of speculations and hindrances and eve of our departure came closer. Initially it was rain lashing the Eastern and North-Eastern part of the country, when the weather started to look good few days before we were about to start another bomb dropped – the remarks made by a privately owned Delhi based FM channel regarding Indian Idol -3 Prashant Tamang’s Nepali origin. It spread like fire and it rocked our expectation’s boat so hard that it was nearly capsizing. But we put our fears and pessimism aside and started for the even which we have been waiting for.
Finally 18 of us made to the Sealdah station, to board the train to New Jalpaiguri. The author was in constant touch with the support team which had already reached the source of the trek a day ahead regarding the situation at that place. Lot of the dust and panic created had already settled down by the time we reached New Jalpaiguri Station. The Vehicles were already waiting for us to take us from the hustle-bustle of the Siliguri town. Off we went to our destination for the day- Aritar. It’s a small village in Sikkim at 5050 ft. We camped at the banks of very enchanting and beautiful lake “Lambpokhri” (meaning: lamb – long, pokhri – lake). It was a great experience and we matched the occasion with a huge enthusiasm. Our guides from CMA told us about the camping discipline, how to pack our rucksacks, protection against leeches and intricacies of trekking. Evening was to be remembered with Swinging dance from all of us, a calm walk across the “Lambpokhri” to the silent Monastery and the night was dedicated to our very own renowned singer “Kishore Kumar”.
Spending the night in a tent was a first experience for most of us; excitement was in the air as we all receded to our tents. No pillows for the night-Need to sleep tight inside the sleeping bag.
Next day morning some of us (early-risers) went to watch the sunrise from watch towers nearby while rest (lazy-bones) of us went for a warming up session. We then had a quick breakfast not to mention people attended their nature-calls at a record time. Then we were ready to go ahead with the trek.
We started very slowly – we were able to trek only 1.5 km in the first hour but eventually we gained speed and then we were doing well even in rough patches. Few of us had a leechy welcome. We rested at a few points during the trek to appreciate the nature and study the local customs and their daily life.
By 1 pm in the afternoon we reached Mulkharka, a village in West Bengal at a height of about 8550 ft. We were about to go ahead with camping in one of the rice fields but leeches had already made life difficult. Finally we decided to stay in a villager’s house that had 3 spare rooms. The sense of humanity at this height touched us deep inside. They a quite a few toddlers and few grown up children; who became a part of our group. It was a great evening for us all we sang beside the camp fire singing Nepali, Bengali and Hindi songs. Some of us even took to tap a few steps. Meanwhile leeches had done a good job to toast the evening with our blood. Nights were cold and had a lot to offer. An innumerable lot of pranks were played if written; this article would take seven nights and seven days to complete.
In the morning around 4-30 am we started for the “Mulkharka Lake” , its one of the places where you would be able to see a reflection of the Kanchendzonga range on the lake. It’s a sight to behold. Just as we were about to start for the lake we saw a wonderful sight the clouds uncovered the Kanchendzonga range and white peaks were visible. There is only one word describe the scene –“Exhilarating”. This sight motivated us a lot and initiated a jump and eagerness to see the reflection on the lake.
Things were not rosy for all of us. Few of us who started late had a terrible experience. Looking at terrain and less visibility in the wee hours of morning added to it the cloud cover which decreased the visibility even further got lost in the way. Basically there was no trek route as such it was steep climb. It was a very frightening experience with leeches crawling around making its way to your legs and you have lost the way in between. Mobile phones came out and help was sought. Finally one of the guides came and ended the ordeal- showed the correct path to the lake.
Once we reached the lake there was a hide and seek game being played by the clouds which alluded some us the glimpse of the Kanchendzonga peak. But the experience was very fascinating. There was a lot of shutterbugs clicking near the lake. Once we reached our base in Mulkharka, it was “Remove all Leeches” that was being telecasted in all channels. I mean everybody had a leech as souvenir. Everybody has been struck by 10-20 leeches at least.
Few of our guides did the first aid and attended to all of us though they too had been beaten badly. We were in for a long haul then – attend to our injuries, have breakfast and take the way back to Aritar and then to Reshi. The trek back to Aritar had a look of “Come what may”, after our leech ordeal everybody was tough enough to take up any challenges. On the way to Aritar we met another canine friend aptly named “Tuffy” and he followed us upto the resort where we had light refreshments. After refreshment we board a vehicle to reach Reshi.
The name of the place “Reshi” come from the river “Reshi” which flows through the banks of the town. We went to the Green Valley camp in Reshi Valley. The path was through dense grassland which made the walk even more thrilling. Finally when we reached the resort it was a delightful sight. We couldn’t believe that we were supposed to camp beside the river.
Before the trainers from CMA called us for rock climbing most us had quick splash at the Reshi River. The water was cold but once one gets used to it was a very enjoyable. After a quick bath we went for the rock climbing session, the rock was not high enough but it gave us a good opportunity to learn the basics as most of us were novices in this field. Few of us went in deep thought by gazing in the river. It helps in introspection of our deeds.
As the sun went down festivities followed, a camp fire was made and we all sat beside it singing and cracking jokes. Eventually we shifted to a more appealing place – The watch tower in the resort. Without saying “Antakshari” followed with some special clues and conditions. It was really of great fun, we enjoyed to the hilt. As night set it, few of went to tents few decided to spent the night in the watch tower itself.
Early morning, we woke up with a heavy heart. After all, the fun filled days were coming to an end. We still wanted to make the most of our last day. We had a crossing the river session for us and if the river was ravaging Reshi it was sure going to a awesome experience. We rushed to the spot where the session was to held.
Now it was time to have the rush of blood run through the brain. It was a fantastic experience for all of us. First few moments hanging from rope gives one a big “High”. Then one has to cross the river monkey crawling while the river rages below. The sense accomplishment is at its all time high once one crosses the river. Few of were so ecstatic that they made it twice across. Finally it was turn of the trainers to show their skill – they were terrific.
After the session it was time for river splashing and lunch. Then it was time for us to leave this heavenly abode and proceed to our home. We had a saddened feeling while leaving, most of us wanted to stay on for another day but that was not to be. On our way back we stopped at Rangpo and few of bought Tea from the famous Temi gardens of Sikkim. As we left Rangpo we found ourselves admiring the effervescent and meandering Teesta. By evening we reached New Jalapaiguri from where we took our train to reach Sealdah.
There were few things worth remembering namely “gaon walaon”, “maine sab paudhe me pani pata diya hai" and above all as commented by one of our very own treekers “maine do raat se soya nahi hai”.
Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Friday, July 13, 2007
Rabindranath Tagore Vs Shivaji the Boss
To me Rabindranath Tagore is The greatest poet to have lived my country and I believe this solemnly. I even get into fights over this with people who might say that perhaps Galib or Tulsidas or even Thiruvalluvar was a greater poet to have lived. I have no hard feelings for anyone with such beliefs and they might even be true in their own ways but somewhere inside I am a very stubborn Bengali who would stand up to anyone when it comes to defending the Bengali valour. Moreover, Rabindranath and his wealth of works are by no means matched by anyone. His complete works would take years to just copy word to word, let alone match them with some original work. The varied themes and the various emotions exhibited by the writings of this great poet knows no limit. Every human emotion has been penned down by this great poet.
So, when Appu Rao spoke with the most indifferent and incredulous voice and with an expression of complete mistrust and disbelief and a shade of disdain on his face -
'Who is this chap Rabindranath?',
I could not take it any more. I bounced back with all the vengeance I had, giving him the facts and figures about the hero, I almost look up as a superhuman supreme being.
In the flow of this heated discussion I even pointed out the fact that Rabindranath Tagore was and is the only nobel laureate in the field of literature from India that he reluctantly accepted the greatness of RT. He left with a deep frown and I heard no more from him in a few days.
Almost 3 weeks later Anna, as we used to call him, came up to me and declared with a finality:
'I was indeed mistaken... Rabindranath is a great hero of our country and we should all salute him...'
Failing to see the ways things are scheming up I decided to be a bit content with my admonitions about Anna's ignorance. It seemed that Anna had said some wonderful words to make my day. Soon a feeling of deep suspicion overcame the feeling as I was dismayed as to how Anna had been so gracious on Rabindranath Tagore. As if in a reflex action, which I regret later, I asked
'How come this change of Heart Anna? You seemed pretty confident that Rabindranath wasnt so great after all.'
'Arrey yesterday I saw Rajanikant praying before a picture of Rabindranath Tagore...'
I did not hear the rest and walked off.
So, when Appu Rao spoke with the most indifferent and incredulous voice and with an expression of complete mistrust and disbelief and a shade of disdain on his face -
'Who is this chap Rabindranath?',
I could not take it any more. I bounced back with all the vengeance I had, giving him the facts and figures about the hero, I almost look up as a superhuman supreme being.
In the flow of this heated discussion I even pointed out the fact that Rabindranath Tagore was and is the only nobel laureate in the field of literature from India that he reluctantly accepted the greatness of RT. He left with a deep frown and I heard no more from him in a few days.
Almost 3 weeks later Anna, as we used to call him, came up to me and declared with a finality:
'I was indeed mistaken... Rabindranath is a great hero of our country and we should all salute him...'
Failing to see the ways things are scheming up I decided to be a bit content with my admonitions about Anna's ignorance. It seemed that Anna had said some wonderful words to make my day. Soon a feeling of deep suspicion overcame the feeling as I was dismayed as to how Anna had been so gracious on Rabindranath Tagore. As if in a reflex action, which I regret later, I asked
'How come this change of Heart Anna? You seemed pretty confident that Rabindranath wasnt so great after all.'
'Arrey yesterday I saw Rajanikant praying before a picture of Rabindranath Tagore...'
I did not hear the rest and walked off.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
The Other Woman (concluding portion)
_____________________________
It happened suddenly one day. Tamal had to come home suddenly in the afternoon because he had forgotten to carry some important document to office. He caught Taniya and Neelesh by surprise, and the situation was handled by an explanation that Neelesh was an old college-mate who was passing by and had come in to chat. But a seed of suspicion was sown in Tamal’s mind. Soon he was spying on his wife and it was not long before he spotted them holding hands near the doorway, and there was the angry confrontation. Taniya listened calmly to the burst of profanities and allegations, she provided no explanations, she had spent enough years with her husband to know that he would never understand her point-of-view. In a way she was even relieved that the whole thing was out in the open, it was a terrible burden for her to carry on with her husband without having any feelings for him in her mind.
Neelesh rubbished the allegations that Tamal leveled against him outright. He was a smart guy and managed to handle the situation so that it would not turn into an ugly scene. He accused Tamal of being overly suspicious, said that Taniya was just congratulating him on his promotion, and well, if it was to be misinterpreted thus, he would not meet Taniya in future.
For the next few days, Tamal fretted and fumed all the while, and Taniya carried on her day-to-day activities like a mechanical robot. She had secretly phoned Neelesh and said a painful goodbye to him. They had agreed not to maintain regular contact, but to have a meeting once or twice a month if possible. Taniya realized now that she loved Neelesh too much to put his family life and reputation to risk, she had to sacrifice her fleeting stolen moments of happiness for the larger good. After sometime, Tamal recovered his regular nonchalant ways, but it was a very difficult life for Taniya. It was as if something in her had died. She felt no animosity towards Neelesh’s wife Priya, and yet she felt an unreasonable anger towards the rules of society which provided no solution to her sufferings. She even secretly visited a psychologist but the 30-minute session just flew by with what seemed like a monotonous question-and answer exercise which provided no result. The doctor just gave her some tranquilizers and sleeping pills to “ease out” her mind, which Taniya promptly flushed down the toilet immediately after she returned home. She had never believed that such medications could be useful in the long run. She wanted to run away from the house, but she was not financially independent and so could not make the decision. The few telephone calls with the sympathetic Neelesh made her feel even worse, because there did not seem to be any promise of a happy tomorrow for her. Everyone except her seemed to be able to cope with the situation without any problem, even Neelesh!
The days were passing by and Taniya was going through on and off periods of depression. Tamal did not pay much heed to her periods of depression which she put as “sudden painful headaches” and left her alone on such days. One day when she was having a bad depression bout, she was forced to leave her bed to move towards the kitchen on hearing the sound of suppressed crying her maidservant Gita. Gita hunched in a corner sobbing uncontrollably. Seeing Taniya, who had always been kindly towards her, she burst forth her sorrows. Her daughter Chutki, was not doing at all well in her school, and there was more. She was only 13, and had been all but rescued from being molested by some hooligan boys with whom she was loitering after school hours, by a schoolteacher. It was a scandal, and the headmaster had threatened to throw her out of the school if she did not behave herself and did better in her studies. Taniya knew how hard Gita had to work in order to pay her daughter’s fees and provide her books and amenities. Her husband Govind was a mason, and together they barely could provide for their daily food, but they had doggedly resolved to provide their daughter with education. There had been a son Moni, but he had not survived from an attack of malaria when he was 3 yrs old. Even though illiterate, they had not gone ahead with having other children and had persisted with bringing up Chutki to be “educated”. Taniya sometimes felt rather amazed at the mental strength and perseverance of these simple illiterate people and secretly provided Maya with monetary help and gifts whenever possible, which Tamal detested as “increasing the servants’ greed”. But Tamal never tried to understand them as Taniya did. At the moment, Taniya’s heart went out for Gita, and she took a decision. Gita had been lamenting that being illiterate they could not help Chutki with her studies, and they simply could not afford to get a “master” for her. Taniya said that she would be glad to tutor Chutki with her studies.
It became a dedication of sorts for Taniya, who made it a challenge upon herself to get Chutki to pass in her Class VI exams which she had failed last year. To her amazement, Chutki was an above average student, who had just been indiscipled, and soon Taniya was enjoying her role as a tutor thoroughly. It not only helped her forget her troubles, but filled her with a sense of fulfillment when Chutki passed the Class VI exams with flying colours. The fact that Tamal resented this whole affair made her relish the success even more. It was now evident to her that her innermost “values” differed radically from Tamal’s, and that she wanted an escape from this “prison” in order to live life on her own terms. She had an Honours degree in English Literature, and now she applied secretly for a job as a teacher in the neighbourhood Kindergarten school. She got an ugly shock when she was informed by the school authorities that without a B.Ed. degree, the chances of her getting a job were remote. She applied for a B.Ed. correspondence course and the study materials started arriving within a week. It was at this point of time that Tamal detected that something was wrong and things were not going on as he would have liked. He had always disliked the concept of working women, and tried to dissuade her from studying further saying this was surely going to increase her headaches. But Taniya did not yield to his tactics, and instead immersed herself in her studies like she were back in her college days. Neelesh was happy for her when he heard the news, and phoned to encourage her. After two gruelling years, Taniya finally reaped the fruits of her labour. At the same time, she realized the folly of applying for a job in the neighbourhood kindergarten. She had to escape from the burden of her joyless marriage, and for that she had to escape to a faraway place where her husband would not be able to trace her. Not even Neelesh should be able to trace her. She would contact Neelesh, but only after she had settled in her new environment as an independent woman. She wanted to make it on her own.
On days that followed, there had been so many visits to internet cafes and libraries where she would scan the Jobs section like an eagle scanning the landscape for food. There had been so many frustrated days and nights when she had vainly waited for the postman and courier service. She had even recently started fearing that her husband might be collecting and destroying all her correspondence at the post office itself, and that was how nothing managed to reach her. She was at the point of losing all her hope again!
But today, holding the offer letter in her hand, she could finally rest easy. She felt vindicated at last. The salary was not going to be much, but what the heck? She was going to be free! She felt so very grateful to Chutki. On an impulse, she opened her locker, and gathered together all her gold ornaments and silver coins in a batua bag. At any rate, she did not relish wearing heavy jewellery, and today she felt like the benevolent queen. She was going to give all these to Maya for Chutki. Suddenly Taniya felt ecstatic. She had to celebrate this pure happiness, she burst out singing :- “Aaj ujar kore lou he amar ja kichu shombol”...
_____________________________
It happened suddenly one day. Tamal had to come home suddenly in the afternoon because he had forgotten to carry some important document to office. He caught Taniya and Neelesh by surprise, and the situation was handled by an explanation that Neelesh was an old college-mate who was passing by and had come in to chat. But a seed of suspicion was sown in Tamal’s mind. Soon he was spying on his wife and it was not long before he spotted them holding hands near the doorway, and there was the angry confrontation. Taniya listened calmly to the burst of profanities and allegations, she provided no explanations, she had spent enough years with her husband to know that he would never understand her point-of-view. In a way she was even relieved that the whole thing was out in the open, it was a terrible burden for her to carry on with her husband without having any feelings for him in her mind.
Neelesh rubbished the allegations that Tamal leveled against him outright. He was a smart guy and managed to handle the situation so that it would not turn into an ugly scene. He accused Tamal of being overly suspicious, said that Taniya was just congratulating him on his promotion, and well, if it was to be misinterpreted thus, he would not meet Taniya in future.
For the next few days, Tamal fretted and fumed all the while, and Taniya carried on her day-to-day activities like a mechanical robot. She had secretly phoned Neelesh and said a painful goodbye to him. They had agreed not to maintain regular contact, but to have a meeting once or twice a month if possible. Taniya realized now that she loved Neelesh too much to put his family life and reputation to risk, she had to sacrifice her fleeting stolen moments of happiness for the larger good. After sometime, Tamal recovered his regular nonchalant ways, but it was a very difficult life for Taniya. It was as if something in her had died. She felt no animosity towards Neelesh’s wife Priya, and yet she felt an unreasonable anger towards the rules of society which provided no solution to her sufferings. She even secretly visited a psychologist but the 30-minute session just flew by with what seemed like a monotonous question-and answer exercise which provided no result. The doctor just gave her some tranquilizers and sleeping pills to “ease out” her mind, which Taniya promptly flushed down the toilet immediately after she returned home. She had never believed that such medications could be useful in the long run. She wanted to run away from the house, but she was not financially independent and so could not make the decision. The few telephone calls with the sympathetic Neelesh made her feel even worse, because there did not seem to be any promise of a happy tomorrow for her. Everyone except her seemed to be able to cope with the situation without any problem, even Neelesh!
The days were passing by and Taniya was going through on and off periods of depression. Tamal did not pay much heed to her periods of depression which she put as “sudden painful headaches” and left her alone on such days. One day when she was having a bad depression bout, she was forced to leave her bed to move towards the kitchen on hearing the sound of suppressed crying her maidservant Gita. Gita hunched in a corner sobbing uncontrollably. Seeing Taniya, who had always been kindly towards her, she burst forth her sorrows. Her daughter Chutki, was not doing at all well in her school, and there was more. She was only 13, and had been all but rescued from being molested by some hooligan boys with whom she was loitering after school hours, by a schoolteacher. It was a scandal, and the headmaster had threatened to throw her out of the school if she did not behave herself and did better in her studies. Taniya knew how hard Gita had to work in order to pay her daughter’s fees and provide her books and amenities. Her husband Govind was a mason, and together they barely could provide for their daily food, but they had doggedly resolved to provide their daughter with education. There had been a son Moni, but he had not survived from an attack of malaria when he was 3 yrs old. Even though illiterate, they had not gone ahead with having other children and had persisted with bringing up Chutki to be “educated”. Taniya sometimes felt rather amazed at the mental strength and perseverance of these simple illiterate people and secretly provided Maya with monetary help and gifts whenever possible, which Tamal detested as “increasing the servants’ greed”. But Tamal never tried to understand them as Taniya did. At the moment, Taniya’s heart went out for Gita, and she took a decision. Gita had been lamenting that being illiterate they could not help Chutki with her studies, and they simply could not afford to get a “master” for her. Taniya said that she would be glad to tutor Chutki with her studies.
It became a dedication of sorts for Taniya, who made it a challenge upon herself to get Chutki to pass in her Class VI exams which she had failed last year. To her amazement, Chutki was an above average student, who had just been indiscipled, and soon Taniya was enjoying her role as a tutor thoroughly. It not only helped her forget her troubles, but filled her with a sense of fulfillment when Chutki passed the Class VI exams with flying colours. The fact that Tamal resented this whole affair made her relish the success even more. It was now evident to her that her innermost “values” differed radically from Tamal’s, and that she wanted an escape from this “prison” in order to live life on her own terms. She had an Honours degree in English Literature, and now she applied secretly for a job as a teacher in the neighbourhood Kindergarten school. She got an ugly shock when she was informed by the school authorities that without a B.Ed. degree, the chances of her getting a job were remote. She applied for a B.Ed. correspondence course and the study materials started arriving within a week. It was at this point of time that Tamal detected that something was wrong and things were not going on as he would have liked. He had always disliked the concept of working women, and tried to dissuade her from studying further saying this was surely going to increase her headaches. But Taniya did not yield to his tactics, and instead immersed herself in her studies like she were back in her college days. Neelesh was happy for her when he heard the news, and phoned to encourage her. After two gruelling years, Taniya finally reaped the fruits of her labour. At the same time, she realized the folly of applying for a job in the neighbourhood kindergarten. She had to escape from the burden of her joyless marriage, and for that she had to escape to a faraway place where her husband would not be able to trace her. Not even Neelesh should be able to trace her. She would contact Neelesh, but only after she had settled in her new environment as an independent woman. She wanted to make it on her own.
On days that followed, there had been so many visits to internet cafes and libraries where she would scan the Jobs section like an eagle scanning the landscape for food. There had been so many frustrated days and nights when she had vainly waited for the postman and courier service. She had even recently started fearing that her husband might be collecting and destroying all her correspondence at the post office itself, and that was how nothing managed to reach her. She was at the point of losing all her hope again!
But today, holding the offer letter in her hand, she could finally rest easy. She felt vindicated at last. The salary was not going to be much, but what the heck? She was going to be free! She felt so very grateful to Chutki. On an impulse, she opened her locker, and gathered together all her gold ornaments and silver coins in a batua bag. At any rate, she did not relish wearing heavy jewellery, and today she felt like the benevolent queen. She was going to give all these to Maya for Chutki. Suddenly Taniya felt ecstatic. She had to celebrate this pure happiness, she burst out singing :- “Aaj ujar kore lou he amar ja kichu shombol”...
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
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...
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...
Thursday, May 24, 2007
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!
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!
Friday, February 23, 2007
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…
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…
Thursday, February 22, 2007
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।
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।
Thursday, February 08, 2007
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
Note: This post has also been crossposted at www.raconteurkasi.blogspot.com
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
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
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
Friday, February 02, 2007
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.........
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.........
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
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!"
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!"
Monday, January 29, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
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.
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.
Tuesday, September 26, 2006
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.”
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.”
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