Is That So ?

Apart from my roommate Mr. Kuddus (nickname, of course) I do not have anyone to speak with. And, I think even that is an understatement.

India is playing horribly, though the scope is only Test cricket. I also believe that until all the oldies spare the test cap, this will continue on foreign soil. And, I think even that is an understatement.

I am an (proud) owner of a MacBook Pro (though the cheapest of its kind). Mr. Kuddus the Counter-Strike-Pro says that Apple products are actually overpriced. And, I think even that is an understatement,

In short, the story is that everything is just fcuked up, and even after one and a quarter years I have nothing to write. Needless to say, this is also an understatement.

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GIRL:

He is coming! I am excited!!

No, I am not sure why I am excited. But, you are no one to decide whether I should be excited or not, and even I am not bound to explain you about anything. Why should I? I am excited and that is enough!

After all, we are going to meet after soooooo long time. Yeah, everyone will agree that four-and-a-half-months is a long time to wait for a girlfriend. You may question, ‘Girl, you know that this is going to happen, then why this exaggeration?’ Then I will reply, ‘How will you know? Are you a girl?’

‘Excuse me darling, I have a message for you.’ Oh gosh! I am too late! This is already 11 and I am still daydreaming, and see, he is already in. And, I can see his face; he is too excited, just like me! After all, which boy does not feel excited about meeting his girlfriend after such a long time! And, you know, his girlfriend is too cute, too sharp, too beautiful, and 5’5” – exactly what he wants. Simply, I am the best second best person over here, lucky to have the best with her.

But when he asks, I say, ‘Look Boy, I am simply the best, and you should thank Him that you have me beside you.’ And always, he disagrees on it, and I resist him, we fight, we laugh, and we continue. It has always been like that. You may ask, ‘what new are you going to find, as it has always been like this, don’t you get bored?’ Mr. cricket fan, may I ask ‘don’t you get bored seeing India win every time? This is just like that.’

‘Get ready, Girl!’ Another me inside me warned me about time. ‘Time is less, and everything will start scrunching up in a moment. Better to get ready.’ The bad she stopped her - ‘I am not a girl who take hours to get ready, I will be ready in a jiffy!’ The concerned she showed her concern, ‘Still, don’t waste time when you have some more to spare.‘

Let me call him. I know he will be free today afternoon. Is he free? But of course, I am his girlfriend, and for me he should have time ;-)

BOY:

‘Shit! Shit!’

‘SHIT!’

I am here, finally, and I have to meet her. Wait a min, did I just day ‘have to’. No way! SHIT! That means I actually do not want to meet her. Or do I love her at all? She daydreams about me, she fancies me, and she is mad about me. But am I?

Confused! Yesterday was our Valentine’s Day. And I have counted every single second to meet her. Time seems longer when a good thing is about to come. But when we actually have it, does it count that much? It is quite true that before having someone as a girlfriend, a boy chases the girl at his best. But does he remain as serious as he used to be before having her? NO??

But, I am a good person, and a good boyfriend. And what confusion I have is just a boyish mentality. I am not a girl, and I have many more things to think about than killing time in daydreaming.

I will meet my old friends first. We old buddies are in touch, but we don’t get time to hang around. Today we have time! Let’s celebrate.

Girlfriend? She will be there. We speak at least 3-4 times a week, what is wrong if today we spend a bit less time with each other? Life should be balanced – and in my life there is space for everyone – may it small, may it be large, but for everyone. EVERYONE!

TIME:

Ring-a-bell!

Girl: I am waiting, here. How long will you take?

Boy: 30 minutes, MAX!

Girl: It’s already 45 minutes!

Girl: I have waited for one-and-a-half hours. Please come.

Boy: We will meet tomorrow. These guys will not let me go.

Girl: I have managed time for you.

Boy: I know it. But how can I go now? Even I do not get time to meet them. But tomorrow I am free for whole day. We will meet tomorrow. We will spend some more time tomorrow, today is already late.

Girl: (Almost crying) I have waited for these much time. You don’t know how do I manage time. (Now crying) Please come once.

Boy: Stop crying, I cannot come – it will not look good. Tomorrow we will meet, I think that will be good. Tomorrow, anytime when you are free, call me, I will come. You know, I can’t call you.

And with that he hung up the phone. Even that is an understatement. He actually switched off the phone! BOYS!!

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To be continued …

Sunday

“Wake up in your bed and believe

whatever you want to believe.”

“I get up at 6 O’clock in the morning. Then I brush my teeth, have the breakfast ….”

It was one of the finest Sundays of December 2010. It was the 12th. And I got up at 6 O’clock in the morning. Then I brushed my teeth, had the breakfast …

I was waiting for the call from Preeti. This is my favorite waiting I like to do now a days. Preeti, I don’t know why she had come to my life. Preeti, who has changed my life at the extent I couldn’t ever have imagined of. Preeti, with whom I like to spend my time, with whom I like to share my leisure, with whom I like to walk side by side in the morning, at dawn, at noon, at the afternoon, in the evening, at night – without holding each other’s hand, yet sharing all the ups and downs and all the things we don’t even know whether they are worthy of mention. Preeti, who can make me to go early to bed, and to rise even before the sun rises. Preeti, who never calls me without a reason, yet I wait every second to see “Preeti calling” on my cell phone’s screen.

Morpheus offered Mr. Anderson two pills – one was blue, and the other was red. It has always been dependent on the person who chooses the course of life – whether to be Neo or whether to wake up on the bed as Mr. Anderson; it’s not on the person who offers the choices. It has always been on the dreamer who dreams the dream.

I was not sure what to do next. I had options – morning walk, jogging, going to the Club House for swimming; or to ignore Preeti and sleep again. I choose the first option. I put on the track and jersey, and went out for a walk. The sun was yet to rise; even though I could see Thane was waking up to welcome the first day of the week. I was happy. If Preeti were in the city, I could have called her for a walk together.

I had planned to walk till 8 O’clock. It was almost 6:30 then – I took out my iPhone from my left pocket, and tuned it to the playlist named ‘Karunesh’. In Sanskrit, the word ‘karunesh’ means compassion. These tracks create an effect of trance inside me. It makes my mind sleep while I am still awakened. It was 19 degrees in Thane, a few degrees less than that of Mumbai. The valleys of the surrounding hills were foggy and the cold morning breeze could shiver my heart. I was almost floating over the pitch-black roads, completely lost in my thoughts, my subconscious was driving me. The last drops of alcohol I consumed last night were still in action. The earphones were playing the track ‘Punjab’. The voice of the singer was seducing me to my sweetest dreams. It was still one hour to 8 O’clock.

Suddenly I remembered that I had to do one most important work I like to do every morning. I pulled my iPhone out of my pocket. I pressed the unlock button, slid the slider on the touch screen to its tight, typed 2563 to open it up. I tapped on safari, opened the site I have been visiting for last one month or so. I browsed to my inbox. There was no new mail today. No one has found me a person needy enough of being contacted; no one has even bothered to reply my mails back. I zapped my mind, and refreshed my thoughts. I opened the facebook; a tiny application on my iPhone. I had three notifications – Arpita has commented on her own photo which turned out to be only a ‘Thanks’, Manjit has commented on his girlfriend’s post, Anu liked my status message which I set yesterday night after getting fully drunk.

Saturday was a dull. Yesterday I have seen two movies. Both of those were boring enough to make all in theatre yawn once in every one minute. I had finished Mahabharata upto episode 39, which was ‘Coronation of Yudhirsthir, Khandavprastha becomes Indraprastha’. I was too bored to bring a bottle of old monk back home, from the store neoned “Diplomat Wines” at its top. I did not regret it. Preeti does not know that I drink very often – twice or thrice a week. Preeti believes that I am a non-smoker; yet I smoke at least a pack of cigarettes a day. Every day I am trying to represent myself as a person I am actually not. She does not know the dark sides of my character. She is so innocent and so pure that I cannot hurt her. Or is that so? What does she think about me is still unknown to me. Do I love her? Yes? No? May be? I don’t know. The only thing I know and I care about is her smile, or her cry, or her swiftness, or may be her everything. I cannot make her feel bad, yet I know I cannot be able to hide the dark and vice of me from her for too long.

I returned home at 8:30. Anshu, Krish and Question Bank were still sleeping. I unlocked my laptop and browsed the site again. No new response till now. I tabbed my chrome to open facebook. Anu was online. I pinged her “Oiii”. She did not reply.

Bored enough, I went to the kitchen and made a glass of Horlicks, and drank it. I boiled an egg, ate it, and then took a shower. It did nothing. This Sunday was going to be another bored one. I dressed up again, and decided to go to PVR. All the newly released movies I already had seen, apart from one – Raktcharitra 2. I opened the PVR booking site, and found out the movie timing. It was at 11 O’clock.

My other three roomies were still sleeping.

Bright sunlight was coming in my room through the glass windows. I curtained the windows, undressed myself and sat in front of the laptop to open one of the most arousing porns in my collection. I tried to do what I was supposed to do. I couldn’t. I slammed off my laptop's lid, went under the shower, which actually burnt me instead of cooling. I came back, got dressed, and went out for PVR. I was damn hungry. I purchased the movie ticket, went into a CCD, ordered two scoops of Chocolate Ice-cream. It was then when the call came.

It was not Preeti. It was Daisy. I knew her from a sexual networking site.

I ignored the call. The iPhone rang again ‘Aao huzur tumko, sitaron me le chale’. I ignored the call. And no call came after that.

I finished my Ice-cream, and paid for it. Then came the sms. The iPhone seductively played ‘Excuse me darling, I have a message for you’. I opened the sms, and found that Daisy wanted to meet me, if I was interested. It was 10 minutes to the show. I called her.

- “Hello.”

- “I believe you have called me.”

- “Do you want to meet me today?”

- “Where can I found you?”

- “For how long do you want me?”

- “Two hours”, I replied.

- “So, it will be Rs. 3000. Hotel charges extra”. I cross checked it with her. Yes, it was Rs. 3000 for two hours. However, she told me

- “If you want me for the whole night, it will be only Rs 7000. And no hotel charge this time.” Hiding it from her, I took a deep breath, and replied

- “I will let you know within next three hours. I am supposed to be in theatre in next 5 minutes. Tell me if it is okay with you.” I was desperate. And I could not hide it from her.

And the movie began.

I took an auto to Powai after the show. And then I called Daisy.

- “Yes, tell me.”

- “I am sorry; this deal is not good for me. Thanks anyway.” When you are looking for a paid companion, you should take it as a game of profit and loss. And still you should not loose you temper and individuality, and as it is a pure business, you should maintain the courtesy.

After coming out of the desperate trauma, I called my old schoolmate Arian. He took the call, and after cursing me to the extremity he can, he assured me that he would meet me at R Mall. I turned back to the Ghatkopar R Mall. It was almost 3:30. I again called Arian. He was already there, with his roommates Indra and Sandy.

I was hungry. But when a KFC was nearby, one could not stay hungry for a long time.

It was 4:30 and it was gradually becoming more and more difficult to spend time. I was damn irritated as ever. Aryan and Indra forced me and Sandy to get into the Lifestyle. There was nothing I could buy with the money I could afford. If I had my own flat in Mumbai, I would have bought the furnished double bed, which demanded Rs. 42000 after 30% discount on MRP. This made me more frustrated. I came to realize where I actually stand. I don’t have excess money, I don’t have roommates with whom I can hang out, I don’t have a partner with whom I can go to Lonavala for a weekend-out. I don’t like my surroundings, yet I am trying to find happiness from the money I have. If money can buy happiness, then I will buy it with the money I have.

- “We beggars do not have money; I still do not understand what the F we are doing here.” Arian, too, became frustrated seeing the lavishly furniture in the Lifestyle.

- “Ya, just fucking around. We could have read a bit harder during college days, and we could have been at US today.” Said Indra, whose dream is to get settled in the US.

- “The greatest blunder we have made was not choosing the general line.” I mouthed my favorite quotes.

- “May be. But it is also true that we are having money at the end of the month. We do not have to ask our dad for it.” A different view from Sandy. And so on. These discussions do not have any ending. Because, you cannot change the past.

But I can change the present.

It was almost 6:30. Tomorrow the weekdays will start.

We came out of the mall. They went back to Powai. I, standing on the Gandhinagar Square, called Gina, another female human being who was interested in being my paid companion.

- “Hello. Is Gina there?”

- “Yes.” I told her that I got her number from the site.

- “Oh yes, I know.”

- “How much do you charge?” I came into the point. The business had already begun.

- “Rs. 5000 for whole night, if you are interested. Hotel and other charges extra.” She clarified the deal. Cheaper. And I was desperate to put my dissatisfaction and frustration out. Money is nowhere comparable to mental stability.

- “Where can I meet you, and when?”

- “You have to come to Bhiwandi.” Shit. I had never been to Bhiwandi.

- “Okay. Let’s fix it at 10 O’clock. Do you know any hotel over there?”

- “Yes. Hotel Happy Night at Bhiwandi crossing. In the reception you tell me my name. It will do.” The name of the hotel reminded me of ‘Hotel Descent’ in the movie ‘Jab we met’.

- “Done. See you at 10.” I hung up the phone.

And then the war began.

It was between my self and my reality. It was between my realities and my secrets. It was between my secrets and my truths. It was between the truths and the false. It was between a false happiness and a true desire. It was between a true desire and an illusion. It was between an illusion and desperation. And it was true that I was desperate to try something new. I was desperate to know if the money could buy happiness, even not for a long time. I was desperate to know why a person longs for a paid companion. I was desperate to know how did it feel when you have done something you were not supposed to do. I was desperate to know the way out from a place that has no way out. It was a war between my pride of being a civilized person and a basic instinct that is in every animal including the human being – but it was also true that from Chandramukhi to Daisy and Gina were a part of our civilized society. It was a desire to try something forbidden. It was to remain clean after coming out from something that was not granted as clean. It was, after all, a test – how much money I could spend just for cooling me down.

And the quest won the war.

I took an ST to reach there on time. I ordered two plates of dry chili chicken and two large pegs of whiskey. I wanted to see my illusions in front of me. I wanted to be driven by alcohol more than by my basic instinct. I wanted to make the fullest out of it.

And I did it.

At 12 midnight, fully taken by the alcohol and by the tarry odor of nicotine she was smoking, I opened my eyes for the first time in last 18 hours. Everything was blurred in front of my eyes. I did not know what was filling me from the inside. It could have been the alcohol, it could have been the forbidden sex, it could have been the feeling of being thrown out from the illusion to the reality, and it could have been a mixture of all the positive and negative and opposite feelings I had ever felt in my life.

She was smoking her fifth cigarette. I pulled out myself from the blurred reality and let myself enter into the world I have created two hours ago. Undressed I undressed her for the third time.

She didn’t make a single bit of protest, though she was professional. She didn’t moan, though she was supposed to do. She didn’t think about the profit and loss, though she was supposed to think. She eyed an empty me, and silently asked for the price of her companionship. I paid her. And then I collapsed.

The morning sun awakened me up. I turned round with my sleepy eyes, and dragged my bed covers to cover me entirely. I entered into the world of sleep again.

It ended with a familiar Hutch ringtone. “You and I, in this beautiful world.” Irritated, I turned again to take my iPhone.

It was gleefully showing “Preeti calling.”

I took the call. She said “Heyy, still sleeping? See, you’ll never change. Temme, what’s the plan for today?”

I started crying. And I knew why I was crying. I love her.

I didn’t know for how long I cried. Clueless she couldn’t stop me. And I couldn’t tell her why I was crying. I was still under my bed covers. I didn’t even want the sun to see my face. Somehow I managed to tell her “Please let me be alone for five minutes”. Preeti, upset and clueless, hung up the phone.

Then I turned my eyes to the iPhone screen. I pressed the home button. It was asking me to slide it to unlock. Above that, I could see

 

On the idle screen, an impeccant Preeti was wishing me the arrival of a new week.

This time I did what I was supposed to do. I called her.

Happywala Diwali

Sometimes, even I do realize that money can buy everything. And that is the real problem.

It has been long days I have written my previous blog post. I don’t know why, but I have never felt writing a blog after that. Well, I had plans to write a blog. But that plan has never been executed successfully. I have few unfinished blogs in my Lappy. I have started writing, but after starting I found nothing to write – or to be very honest, absolutely nothing to say.

And now I am trying once again. Not sure what will happen.

The main problem about writing something is I find nothing to write about. You should have a topic to write something. It is not that I do not have any topic to write. I have, too many to write. But those are discreet, not related, and not being a born-writer I cannot put them together to write a complete post.

Hence there ends the story. Or maybe, this is the beginning.

Byaas, ei holo giye bheto bangaleer somosya. Ekta cliché dialogue diye diye tarpor likhte bose hediye pore thake. Chhya chhya. Je bangalee somaj theke Robi dadu, Sarat babu, Ba^ka chand (sorry Bankim da, don’t mind, aapnaar grammar khuuuub baaje chhilo) beriyechhe – ebong idaning Mandakranta di, Sangeeta darling kimba even amader Ramgarh theke ossa ossa kobi (mane Srijato baby) berochchhe sekhane, hey Pinaki Barik, tomar e ki haal. Bangaleer maan somman Snehomoy, JU er biri khor jonota aar 20D onek khani namiye diyechhe. Baki ta ki na namalei noy ?!!

Tokhon ami boli, aaha Sona bujhchho na kyano. Ami bangaleer maan somman kichchhu dobachchhi na. Borong ek ujjwol byatikrom hoye bangaleer bhalotwo ke sokoler kachhe tule dhorar chesta korchhi. Ami bhalo chhele (jodio seta promar korar kono dorkar nei). Ami bhalo chhilam, aachhi and thhakbo. So I deserve ekjon bhalo meye in my life.

Anuradha bole, tui na, Kaka, ektu sahosi ho.
Haimasree bole, ektu chhele ho toh tui ebaar.
Simanto bole, ja bhabchhis taai kor. Ami amar ‘best friend’ ke niye kichhu bolbo na.
Snehangshu kichhu bole na. Chupchaap khaay, aar haase.

Ami boli –
“Shunbe tomar gaan neel akasher oi pakhira
Dulbe surer dole soddo prosphitito phulera
Nodeer kolochchhase bhasiye diyo e bhaber kheya
Hrridoyer ongone jwaliye rekho e surer diya”

Lokjon bolchhe ami preme porechhi. Amar nijero taai mone hoy. Er beshi kichhu jani na. Kaauke janateo chai na (maane obossoi, koyekjon ke baad diye). Lokjon nojor debe. Amar biswas, amar aager taar khetreo taai hoyechhilo. Lokjon nojor dile na, praaaaay sob jinish marattok bhaje ke^chiye jaay. Kee je paay lokjon eisob kore bhogoban jaane. Kintu kore.

Nahh, kaal deewali weekend – and amar kono kaaj nei. Keno nei jaani na. Karon ta jodio amar opodarrthota noy, kintu karon toh kichhu ekta obossoi haz. I have little number of friends here, and I do not (yet) have any girlfriend her to hang around here and there. A movie – NO, a just-for-nothing McDonalds – NO, a KFC – NO. Abandon the idea of going to each other’s house (or flat) and kill some time. There is absolutely no one.

And the bad thing is that I have accepted this fact. Se jotoi gaan baajuk na keno “tumi chhara je shunyo laage”. Bull shit!!!

SHIT!!!

Yes, this should be the tone. Look at Anshu. He has a (nice, sweet and cute) girlfriend – but he is wasting time for CAT. Look at Sroy. He does not have any, and feels good about it. Cause, I believe that he believes that girlfriend means hang out and day out and restaurant and KFC McDonalds etc etc which is a complete wastage of money. Nothing to say about Proshno Bichitra (question bank) – he has a girlfriend and he never let us feel that he has any.

In short, these are my roommates. They are good people – but not of my type. They do not have enough money and energy (and interest) to go to Lanavala for a day out. DISGUSTING!!!!

Anuradha bole, ja na – oke niye beriye aay.
Haimasree bole, aar kobe bolbi bol toh! Be a man!
Simanto bole, tui toh amader bhulei gechhis, monei rakhis na aar.
Snehangshu kintu kichhu bole na. Chupchaap khaay, aar haase.

Ami boli –
“Shaam tanha si laage , Sabhi Se Hum Bekhabar
Phoolon Ke Rang Dhoomil, Lagne Lage Hain Sabhi
Yun Na Aayi Khamoshiyan, Muskurati Hain Shokhiyan
Sune Pal Hain Paheliyan, Chedti Hain Yeh Badliyan
Shaam Tanha Si Lage, Sabhi Se Hum Bekhabar”

Lokjon bolchhe ami preme porechhi. Amar nijero taai mone hoy. Kintu somosya ta holo er thheke beshi aar kichhu kora jaay na. Karon ta onek. Sesob bolte gele onekkk din lege jaabe. Sesob apatoto katiye dewai bhalo.

Mathha dhorechhe. Anamika r shorir kharap hoyechhilo. Thanks God kichhu hoy ni. Anuradha hospital e chhilo. Thanks God bhalo aache. Haimasree r mon kharap chhilo. Thanks everyone (as she does not believe in God) that she feels better sometimes. Yantra park er kukurgulo kintu niyomito boro hoye jay. Baba ma hoye jay tara. Tara kintu sukhe shantite thhake. Dukkho nei kosto nei. Ek kuchi ruti pelei kuchu kuchu chhanagulo khushi hoye jay. Bhabte obaak laage, jokhon lokjon bole manush o naki ek peokar poshu. Mone toh hoy na. Manush manush-i. Khuuub kothhin aar complicated.

Just for this complicacy, human being is too much unpredictable. Today, a girl is smiling to me does not necessarily mean that she will smile tomorrow, or she will not smile the same smile to someone else. This is why we are too complicated. This is why we are human. This is the way we think. This realm of thought is till unknown to dogs and cows and chimps. I love myself to be human being. And I love dogs because they are born-cute, and cuter than a baby human.

Cute boltei mone pore gelo, sokole balok and balika tader girlfriend and/ba boyfriend er/der kachhe cute. Ba supercute ba ultra cute. Ami bujhhi na 35-40 yrs boyeser lokjon keno bichhanay prem korar somoy eke onyoke baby bole daake. Bujhhi na. Mone hoy oi boyese gele amio bolbo. Sure na. Tobe bolle ami nischoy bujhte parbo je lokjon keno erokom bole. May be amio tokhon amar cute bou ke (jodi keu amake biye korte raaji hoy then) ‘love you, baby’ bolbo. Tokhon kono chobbisher balok seta bhebe erokom ek khani blog likhhbe. Ami kintu tokhono amar dui baby-r ma bou ke ‘baby’-i bolbo.

Haimasree tokhon bolbe, emma meyetakeke toh osadharon dekhhte.
Anuradha tokhon bolbe, biswas kor ami kintu lebu hoye jabo, ekdom uskani dibi na.
Simanto tokhon bolbe, kintu jai bolis prothom prem bhola jay na.
Snehangshu tokhono kichhu bolbe na. Chupchaap khabe, aar haasbe.

Ami bolbo –
“Uru uru swopne ek rajkonye pash phire chole jaay
Uru uru swopne ek rajkonye daake jeno isharaay
Kee abeshe taare dekhi baare baare jeno tobu mete na trisha
Se je poth chole buke jhhor tule jege othe ghumono asha”

Byaas, din shesh hoye aaschhe. Ekhon 16:50 IST. Bharote time er kono summer ba normal time nei. DST is not observed in India. So we are not accustomed with time change in India. I wish I were a good student. I wish I were a scholar from IIT or IISC. I wish I had a job which could give me more money. Money is all. Money is everything. Money is the source of all happiness. Any doubt? Then call me on my Cell number, I will make you understand.

Ekbaar ami R Mall e gechhilam, Ghatkopar e. Bhalo jaayga. Okhane lifestyle er 3rd floor e giye ami just paagol hoye gechhila. Furniture dekhhe. Amar mone hoyechhilo amar takapoysa dorkar. 10,000 bank balance niye kichhu hobe na. Ami bhabchhilam amar kachhe jodi 1 crore thhakto. Ekta bari, may be 3 BHK, 1000 square feet – tar sathhe oi joto rajyer furniture. Aar maase 27000 er bodole jodi more than 50000 hoto. Biyer bajare amar daam prochuuuuur bere jeto. Aar jodi gaaye ekta NRI stamp thakto then – he he – paradise.

Prithivite kichhu lokjon, jemon Anuradha, Sumant, Snehangshu, Banti, Shabnam era ei kotha ta biswas kore na. Gullubhaai o kore na. Era boka. Ami, Haimasree, Arpit, Bidhan er ex girlfriend ebong aaro oneke kintu eta biswas kore. Tarai aasol buddhiman and baastobbadee.

Byaas, aajker moto etukui. Dekha jaak weekend ta keerokom kaate.

Black and White

This is still very usual. This is still the same. This is still the old one. This is, still, really beautiful.

Sometime, I think I am thinking too much. Yeah, I like to think a lot. I used to think a lot. I think ... jaani na. There is no use of thinking so much. Which world you are going to conquer by ‘just’ thinking? Tell me. I’m sure you have no answer, or may be by now you have started trying really hard to find the answer. But believe on me, still there is no answer. Hence the conclusion is, we cannot do anything by thinking a lot.

Now, there is no harm if you have skipped the last paragraph. Everybody knows the fact. It’s not a new theory. Yeah, may be. But we are not really inclined to what is obvious, isn’t it? Just like, if you are a snake charmer then your life may end with a single pinch of the fang. If you are a mountaineer then you life may end with an avalanche. If you are a war-journalist, a terrorist bullet may become too costly for your life. Still, we charm snakes, we try to summit the Himalayas, and we go beyond the enemy lines. May be, this is another definition of romanticism.

I have seen a married couple (in Nat Geo of course) – their passion is cheetah. They went to Africa, may be Serengeti forest (this is the only forest in Africa I know by name). They stayed there for three long years. Imagine – an American couple in African forest – no cooler, no AC, no McDonalds. They used to live in a tent. They used to travel by a Land rover. They used to capture each and every beautiful moments, day and night (they has a night vision camera, too), in the sun and in the rain, in summer and in winter (though I don’t know the difference between summer and winter in an equatorial forest) – just to make a one-hour film with their best shots and motions. What do you call it? Romanticism? Fascination? Passion? Or just a fanatic story of two lunatic Americans?

Romanticism is actually a very odd term. I can’t define it. May be Freud could. But I am not Freud. Once, one of my old friends told me (we went to Pelling for a trip – group of five classmates) that romanticism is sexuality! He meant to say, according to Freud, if we really like something and feel unified with that (you have lost yourself in the beauty of nature) then there must be something sexual. I still don’t know what that actually means. I have told you, I am neither Freud nor influenced by his thought. But I think, to like something (and hence someone) we need not to think sexual even in subconscious (though I have stopped making comment on subconscious after watching ‘Karthik calling Karthik’). But still, I want to say something in favour of my friend. Suppose, you are in the Yosemite (imagine!) and you are completely spellbounded by the natural beauty (even I am imagining, ‘cause I was never there). Wouldn’t you like to enjoy this natural beauty with your nearest and dearest (and whateverest!) one simply standing or sitting beside you with hand in hand? Isn’t it sexual?

You and I

In this beautiful world

Green grass blue sky

In this beautiful world

You and I

Where we lay and streams go by

Thanks to Hutch. Anyway, aspirations vary from person to person. I like to earn a lot of money, but I don’t know how. My friend wants to complete post doc by 2013, though he knows this is seemingly impossible. My roommate wants to crack the CAT, and he knows how damn tough this is. My teammate wants to be in some different project, and knows he will not even ask for a release. In this way, romanticism also varies from person to person. But I am not going to give any example. This post has already become too worthless.

My chat status is “There comes a point when dreams become reality and reality becomes a dream.” Literally, this is a damn truth. Technically, dreams->reality->a single dream. Means, your small and silly and little and meaningless and impossible dreams become a single entity – a Dream. We all like to dream a lot. Most of those are day dreams. And, if even one of those becomes reality, even partially, we just fly.

I can sense I am flying.

Change is good only when change essentially ‘means’ something. Change for the sake of making change may not be fruitful always. Five years ago we used to live too peacefully in Bengal. It was the most peaceful state in India. No army-common people conflict like that was in Manipur. No Maoist-Government conflict like that was in case of Chandrababu/Reddy reign in Andhra. Not even a single terrorist attack, thanks God. No Hindu-Muslim riot, no dalit-mahajan muthbhed, not even a single party-politics conflict. We were too proud that if used to say “come to Bengal and find the peace” or something (to some people ‘something bullshit’ – we didn’t know this mentality that time) like that.

Now Bengal has changed a lot, mostly in last three years. Change is good, isn’t it? I fear to travel by train, someone aam aadmi fears to say I support Buddhadeb, school boys fears to go to Jhilimili dam for a picnic. I can remember, five years ago in Bengal anybody could proudly declare – I support TMC. I can’t remember of a single CPM party worker beating someone just because of he is a Trinamooli. I never found something like this in Bartamaan or Jaago Bangla. And, now you go and say publicly ‘I support Left’ and you may get killed. Yes, Raajneeti has become this in Bengal. We can travel by train and bus and auto in Calcutta or in Durgapur or in Siliguri – and we can discuss anything but politics.

However this is a change and change is always good.

Recently Kabir Suman and Arundhati Ray declared that they will continue supporting Maoists (and their sister organizations). Ha ha ha ha. I like this, really. One of my friends once said “Maoists should kill all CPMs”. Change in mentality, isn’t it? I can say if CPM is bad, Trinamool is nothing better. But in a democratic constituency like India and thereby like in Bengal, you have to accept what majority wants. Hence State assembly will change in 2011. Ruling party will change in 2011. And then – I don’t know what will happen.

Khun er raajneeti khub ekta bhalo jinish bole toh mone hoy na.

But change is good. Change in work, change in workplace, change in environment – all positive changes can boost your mind positively. You will do your work better, you can concentrate, you can think, you can solve a problem, write blogs, shoot some nice photos, cook a good preparation, kill hours of time just thinking what you will do tomorrow. You like to dream. You like to day dream. You like to dream of impossible things. Everything around you suddenly seems beautiful. Day to day works become more enjoyable. Day to day foods become more delicious. Day to day bus-travel becomes a journey. You will smile now and then for no reason. You will lose yourself now and then into your thought. You will lose your ability of blind-typing. You will suddenly start understanding what you do not at all understand. And you will suddenly start enjoying you life a little more than you usually do.

Black-and-white magically becomes more colourful than the rainbow.

Zoobi-Doobi. You are in love!!

With time too many things change. Life, lifestyle, money, age, bank balance, friends, acquaintances, name, fame, likeness, liking, world cup champions – time can change too many things. Still, there are many things that cannot change. Your passion, your self, your ability to love someone – you become younger with every second in your life. Dil is still a bachcha.

Global warming is affecting everything. Water crisis is becoming more and more prominent. Change in weather and climate is not good for our future. It is affecting our life, our country, our earth. Every day we are being updated with Rita, Hurricane, Katrina, Tsunamis, Volcanic blasts – even insaan is becoming more and more short-tempered.

The Monsoon has not changed herself in last three years.

This is first week of June. And it is raining in Mumbai.

From an Indian

Thanks a lot, Mr Chetan Bhagat. You have done another wonderful job, as you always do. But, however this is not your fault; you have hurt me a lot, which I do not expect from you. Yes, I know that you have no idea of this. You have not hurt me from your own choice. This is something different. You not only have gifted me (and of course, to your all other loving readers, too) a new book, but also a lot of memories, a lot of sadness, a lot of tears, a lot of passions, a lot of smiles, a lot of similarities and of course a lot of happiness. I really wonder, how you can manage to gift me (and us) these many things with your only one creation. If you would ever tell me, I would love to know your secret.

So, this is the so called preface of this post. Mr Bhagat, I am not at all like you. You are an IITD IIMA scholar. I am not. You have worked for Deutsch Bank and Goldman Sachs. I have not. You have the confidence and courage to quit your investment banker career. I do not have. And you are a writer. I am not. And there are many a lot more. But those are not I am typing for. I just wonder how you have become India’s most loved writer. You may be an IITD pass out. But I hardly find any difference between an IITD alumnus and this ex-JU. I hardly find any difference between Neha or Priyanka or Vidya or Ananya and my (ex-, still) girlfriend (Though I do not like Neha too much. She is not my dreamgirl.) And of course, Krish Malhotra (an IITD IIMA pass out) and Shyam Mehra (an ex- Call Center guy) and blah and blah and blah and I (a so called Software Engineer) are all the same. But how come one of the India’s most brilliant students and one of the India’s most average students be unified? I don’t know. But I can feel. Maybe you, Mr Bhagat, can feel, too. And that’s why, you are India’s one of the most loved writers.

My last week was not one of my memorable ones. It was as usual. Just one, two, or some more facts are there to add. One, P.G. Phani Raju (my colleague cum friend) was back from his one-week long leave (His hometown is Vijaywada). Two, Anuradha Biswas (my friend) is back in form. Three, My PL is unhappy with me, for some unknown and undisclosed reason. Four, I have just finished ‘2 States: The story of my marriage’ (by Chetan Bhagat). Five, my mood is off again, though this is not a rare fact. Six, I have been shifted to Banyan Park. Seven, I have booked tickets for long-awaited January go-home-plus-another-marriage-to-be-attended trip. Still, this week was as usual. Cause they were regular things to happen. Nothing special, nothing unexpected. And, nothing that could change an ultra-normally normal course of life. Of course, an angry PL is perhaps the most dangerous species a software engineer can imagine. However, in our company and in our project, I do not have too important position that I should be afraid of losing.

So bindaas jeeo yaar. Kintu bindaas ta aar hotey parchhi koi!?

2 States is undoubtedly Chetan’s most sensible work as I can see. Well, the previous three are as good as this one. But those are mere stories. I mean not mere, but well, there they are. This book has one universal (or least, one Indian) appeal. That is we are Indian. Not we are only Assamese, Bengalis, Biharis, Gujjus; neither are we only Punjabis, Tamils, Telugus or Marathas or else but we are only and only Indians. Well, we are all Indians. Or, are we? Ironically, we are (if you are in Mumbai then add ‘fucking’ for some mean-minded persons) sons of our own state only. A Tamil is at first a South-Indian, then an Indian. A Punjabi is at first North Indian, then an Indian. And I guess only a cricket match can unify our country and nothing else can do it. Sachin scores an over boundary and all from Kashmir to Kanyakumari are stand on their feet to dance with a Mexican wave. And that’s all. North Indians hates South Indians’ complexion. The later hates the formers’ language. They might not show it. They might have hidden it. Or they might have made them so as-usual that those things are just matter-of-facts. We are used to this. And we should stop this. That’s it. This is the only message Chetan has tried to deliver in every page of this book, apart from loosely depicting his own life (which, or parts of which we all share). These states make our nation. These states also divide our nation. Boss, you are right. And yes, you have the right to say it. Everybody knows why. Everybody (at least, now) knows that Shyam and Ishaan belong neither to Tamil Nadu nor to Delhi. They’ll be from a state called India.

However, today is Nov 19^th. I am waiting for definitely-would-be most challenging Valentine’s Day in my life. Yes, that day is another 14^th FEB. And till now, no 14^th FEB has left me unhappy. I mean, of course after a certain age. Anyway, I am waiting for a rather differently loved girlfriend. I mean, not ‘girlfriend’. You can say that is just a wild try to get rid of my current ‘girlfriend’. Though she is really committed to me, I do not like her much. But if on the 14^th I fail to make someone else to accept my proposal (though she will take 29 days to answer me) then I will be left with no choice but to stay with my current sweetheart (or in one universal word - ‘fucked’), yes my friend, sweetheart, cause I have no other choice left with me. If you are married in India, it’s really difficult to get a divorce.

Anyway, it is believed throughout ages that everything will change in the due course of time. So let’s see.

Some new additions are here for today. In Banyan Park, I have a new person to go for lunch with. The bad thing is he is a boy; and the good thing is despite of being a Mallu he is fluent in Hindi. So, there is no problem in communication. And (till now) he is a good fellow. I accept the fact I love to dine alone, I love to walk alone, I love to operate alone (even if I am not Lord Voldemort), I love to do too many things alone. But if there is a person to kill time with, that is not a bad thing at all. I like that, too.

My latest crushes are a Tamil girl, a Punjabi girl and a Kashmiri girl, chronologically speaking. Yes boss, I have three latest crushes. Though I am not going to tell their names of course (to respect their privacies), I just can say this much that if I, even in far future, find someone who is not Bangalee, it will not be a mammoth problem for me if she is an Indian. Though in my life I will always prefer to be with someone who is Bangalee (not only Bengali-speaking), just because I love to speak my native language and I may not want to love her in some other, I can say that I have no problem with either of Hindi and English (though I will love to avoid the later). Though to me Bangla is world’s sweetest language and I will love her to say ‘Sonamoni taratari bari eso’, something like ‘Please baby, come soon’ will also work for me. Though I say (inspired by Paolo Coelho, yes in my life there was never a lack of inspiration) that ‘our home is the most marvellous and our ladies are the most majestic’, I also keep in mind that I am not only Bangalee but also an Indian. The only thing that is invariable in this whole scenario is love. If she loves me, I mean really loves me, then fuck the race and fuck the language (with condition: there must be at least one common language) and fuck the state-concern (and fuck some racial political parties) and fuck the other terms and conditions.

Mr Chetan Bhagat, you have done your job. Thanks. It’s not about communities, it’s about the people we want to be with.

Chhatim

Bhulei gechhilam jinishtar kothha, seriously.

2005 saale jokhon September e, date ta mone nei, jodio seta hobe maser shesher dikei, last week e, sokalbelay taxi ta jokhon Howrah bridge perochchhe, Madhabendu Hensh hothat kore bole uthhlo ‘taakao’. Ami chirokaaler Fossils-biweshee, shunlaam ‘The Cow’. Tarpor bokar moto ami gobeshona korte mane goru khujte laaglaam, hothaat kore mone elo je Kolkatay goru pawa jay na. Maane jodio Bagha Jatin e goru pawa jeto.

Jokhon aaro chhoto chhilam, tokhon school e pori, tokhon Mission Girls’ ebong Christian College er majhher rasta ta diye jawar somoy, ta shorot kaalei hobe … puro paagol hoye jetam. Raasta taay generally ami eka i phirtaam. Raater belay, dhore naao current o chole gechhe, serom ekta somoye. Osadharon laagto gondho ta. Up raastay cycle ta aaro aste aste cholto, amar Hero Impact. Tatey gondho taar sthayitwo ta aaro beshi hoto. Fole maatal howa jeto aaro mon kore.

Amar kachhe shorotkaal kimba Durgapujo maane shiuli kimba kash ful kimba kimba neel akashe penja tulor moto megh-tegh kichhui na. Amar kachhe egulor maane aalada. Ebong taar sathhe obodharito bhabei aalada holo shoroter definition. Kimba aagomon barrta. Je gondho take ami ekbaar ekta odbhut bisheshone bhushito korechhilam.

“Chhatim phuler gondho ta khub macho.“

Byaas. Ei tukui. Goppo ekhanei shesh.

Bohudin holo Durga pujoy jawa hoy ni. 2008 e na. 2009 eo hochchhe na. Karon ta soja, Marathi ra Durgapujor mahatmyo bojhhe na. Oder kachhe Durga pujo maane Dussera. Durga thhake bagh er pithhe. Hmmm. ‘Jay Mata Di’ ta aar jaai hok, thhik bangali sulobh na. Jodio, I hope, abaar er pujo ta khub ekta niros kaatbe na. Dekhha jaak.

Monmejaj majhhe majhhei baaje hoye jay. Jodio, ghorer baaire eka thhakle seta howa ta khub swabhabik. Karon onek guloi, specially pujor somoy. Ekhane kachher lokjon keu nei, jar ba jader sathhe pujoy ghure berano jay. Hmm, manchhi 2007 er obismoroneeyo soptomi ta ami puro North aar Central Calcutta eka ghure shesh korechhilam, but sebaar onek gulo factor kaaj korechhilo. Jemon dhoro, seta poschimbongo. Jemon dhoro, sebaar ekta challenge chhilo going-to-be-the-worst Durga pujo take the-best-of-ever Durga pujoy porinoto kora. Ta hoyeochhilo serom-i kichhu ekta. Ektaana 13 din amar life er one of the best 13 dins. Ta se jaai hok, sebaar pujo ta shuru hoyechhilo Bhoolbhulaiyaa diye. Porpor du din geslam … Osadharon jinish chhilo ekta seta. Tarpor aaro factor chhilo, jemon dhoro pujobarshiki. Seriously, Mitinmasi-Tupur kimba Deepkaku-Jhhinuk chhara thhik pre-pujor kono maane hoy na. Kimba mohaloyar ager rate sara raat jaaga aar tarpor ghumiye ghumiye Mohaloya shona. Jodio seta ebaareo may be sombhob. Kintu record kora Mohaloya aar live Mohaloyar modhye ekta aalada byapar thhekei jay.

Sutorang, pujo ta aalada. Ekebarei alada. Poschimbonger baaire jaar mahatmyo bojhhanor chesta aar ulu bon e mukto chhorano eki jinish. Taai Marathi PL je chhuti chharbe na setaai swabhabik. Marathi, jader ek bochhorer culture e Ganesh choturthi chhara aar kono utsob dekhhlam na. Believe me, Dewali o na. Maane, holeo, kono speciality nei. So, I love Bombay. I love her everything (Except the jam of Powai). But, Durga pujo mone hoy Kolkata totha Banglar baaire hoy na. Kimba holeo Naam-ka-waste. Maane se Lokhandwala thheke London kimba Chanakyapuri thheke New York, jekhanei hok na keno, joto khorocher i hok na keno, joto boro o byapok hok na keno … Jokhon kaane aase ebaar New Alipore Suruchi Songho te theme hochchhe Jhharkhand, mone hoy life e ekta bochhor miss hoye gelo. Seriously, bariye bolchhi na. Ekta pujo na. Ekta bochhor. Karon Bangalee sara bochhor dhore Durga pujor joneyei wait kore thhake. Agomonee r protyashaay. Tarpor Bijoya thheke aabar ekta bochhor gona shuru hoy.

Pujo aaro onek karonei aalada. Pujo maane holo chhuti. Jekhane ami Soptomee r din office e katabo. Without Punjabi-jeans. Boring byapar, taai na ? Amio taai mone kori. Seriously, etto baaje soptomi aar konodin kaateni. Or may be. Bhobiswat aar ke-i ba bolte pare.

Jaai hok. Ebaar o holo na. Jodio, ami pujo te jeteo khub ekta chaai ni. Kintu last ek maase onek gulo jinish bodle gechhe. Jodio sesob detail ujjhho thhakai mone hoy bhalo.

Sutorang, amar je pujoy bari jete mon jaabe, seta orptyashito holeo, protyashito-i chhilo.

Last 9th Banerjee r jonmodin chhilo. Sedin maal tar shorir kharap (No dirty meaning please). Taai moner shukhe birthday bumps deoa gelo na, jodio I hate this concept. Se na hoy holo. Ta jonmechhe jokhhon, khawate take hobei. Aar khawano maane Powai. Kokhono KFC, kokhono Pizza Hut, kokhono Utsav. Last er ta boli borong. Sekhaner khabar maane Chinese MC-r dharekachhe jaabe, maane eto bhalo., Plus sosta, maane tulonaay. MC-r por etto bhalo Chinese aar kothhao kheyechhi bole mone korte parchhi na. Plus, Mughlai o pawa jay. Plus ekjon bangalee waiter aachhe. Plus jaayga tab halo. Plus nijer takay khachchhi na. Ek kothhay osadharon.

Ta time chhilo 8 ta. Ami jabo bari thheke, ora aasbe Mulund thheke. Karon, oder bazaar korar chhilo, gechhilo Nirmal Lifestyle e. Ta ami elaam 8 10 e approx. Ese phone korlaam Lahiri ke. Se bollo aaro 15 mins aachhe. Maane bujhhlam 30 mins. Cho, ektu ghurei aasi. Bohuuudin holo Powai te ghora hoy ni.

Gelaam kichhudur. Tarpor, hothhat korei, ek khana avenue dhore haat-te haat-te hothhat kore khuje pelaam shorotkaaler aasol maane. Oprotyashito, kintu khuje pelaam. Tarpor samne joto egote thhaklam, taake khuje pete thhaklam aaro ektu ektu kore. Tarpor, je raasta dhore jawa seta dhorei phire aasa. Mone holo Bombay teo Banglar shorot aase. Bombay teo ek tukro Bangla aachhe. Mon ta hothhat kore bhalo hoye gelo.

Aar hobe naai ba keno. Gondho ta, sotyi-i bhule gechhilam.

(NB: Likhe ektukuo mon bhorlo na. Kintu pore likhhle etukuo hoto na. So … :-))