There Are Places I (Shall) Remember... 4th February 2014

Making my way through a chilly February night, past the familiar sights of Ring Road, of Safdarjung Enclave, of Aruna Asaf Ali Marg, and JNU, when I entered my room in Vasant Kunj tonight, I was hit by a feeling of loss, stronger than I had been expecting. Everything lay exactly the way I had left them about a month and a half back. Within seconds, my life of half a year came back to me. The partly-unmade bed, the quilts and bed sheets lying lumped together- as if comforting and protecting each other from the cold- all my clothes strewn around the room, the dried up bathroom floor, the Queen poster above my bed, the green lights - given to me on Diwali by someone who had warmed November up by his presence - garlanding the television on the wall, the Vodafone Internet modem I used for Internet connectivity here, the multiple empty Hot Chocolate, Nescafe and Nutella containers that I never bothered to throw away, the jute bag bearing the World Health Organisation logo- given to me by an uncle when I arrived to stay here, in August- one that I had hung behind the front door and never got around to dislodging from there even once since then, the books on Advertising- a course that had brought me to Delhi, a blue scarf that I had managed to procure out of one of my closest friends at IIMC- my Karol Bagh auntie- that I would also wear in class with my pairs of jeans and shirts(with the Bangalore Uncle, Mr. Chaithanya commenting - "very surprisingly, you do manage to pull this weird ensemble off as well"), the empty Ballantine's bottle and glass reminiscent of one particularly wild night around Diwali - all of this lying around, just as I had, running late and rushing to catch a train to Calcutta, left them - brought back so many memories...

...Memories of my first time away from home, my first time staying alone, completely by myself, like an adult, with no one to take care of me, or to pester me. Unlike most people, who graduate from home to hostel, to finally living alone, my first tryst with independence was marked by the complete, stark "alone-ness"(and I do NOT mean loneliness) that this place offered to me. I slept when I pleased, I woke up as I wished(though, usually, in time for college), I went up to the terrace with some food when I so desired, made myself as many cups of coffee as would keep me happy(having learnt how to make coffee here itself), climbed over the gate when I got too late in coming back at night, kept wondering what the warning sign asking one to be wary of "Non Ionized Radiation" meant. I danced by myself to the music played at the parties at the farmhouse next door and ordered countless meals from Hawkers and AFC's kitchen, and watched countless episodes of Harvey Specter's squabbles with Louis Litt, and bonding with Mike...This room saw love materialize, saw several varieties of despair as I desperately tried to figure a person out, gradually understanding him and accepting him for what he is. This room was for when my best friends trooped in to surprise me on a day I had overslept and missed college, found the door open, and found me lying on my bed, half-naked, and woke me up to a torrent of laughter.

I can't help but recall, after the decision to not put up with family here in Delhi, and the subsequent four days of house hunting to disappointing results, when I first set my eyes on this room, it had been love at first sight. The decision had been made then and there, and I had moved in a couple of days later. Today, on my last night here, as I try to soak in as much of this ambience, of this room, as possible, I am reminded of one cardinal truth about life. People attach a lot of importance to staying in touch with each other. This, they believe, would help them stay in touch with their past. Yet, for all the clinging on to other people that we do, as we tread through life, we forget that our past was necessarily made up of, besides the people, the places and the times we lived in - how the flowers smelled that day, how strongly the sun shone, and how much dust flickered through the sunlight pouring in through the ventilators. And thus, though the people live on( at least for a while), the times we lived in die, and with them, so does our past - never to be brought back to life, exactly similarly, even with all the people involved.

Daydreamers

Here I am, still sitting alone, still staring at the empty pages, reading between the non-existent lines trying to make sense of all of this, this entire life. Tried to get everything right, didn't I? But nothing, nothing ever works out, nothing ever adds up.

I'm just so tired of everything slipping out of my fingers every time. Of having to check myself whether I made a mistake or not. Whether I'm making everyone feel good or not. Not for once does anyone ever stop to ask me whether I am doing okay or not. Whether I am comfortable or happy. Never.

I'm just tired of putting up with so much of everyone's garbage for the moment. Maybe it is time to let go, once and for all. For too long have I refused to feel like the victim, the absolute victim. But the darkness around the edges of the bed suggests maybe, just maybe I really am one.
[And yes, there's a reason why this is not up on the secret blog].

Oh, MoodCourtesy:  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=girXRxJRdu4

Love Ballad to Oneself - Demise, Rebirth And Everything Encased Within

Probably, you see, a distant poetry,

Coming to life,

Approaching you,

And then passing by,

Leaving your peace

Destroyed,

With its lyrical promiscuity.

In the grays of the sky,
And the cracks lining the glass
On the window-panes,
You see how
Dispensable
You are, and have always been.

For you expected an ode
To be sung for you,
You expected the winds
To carry away your loneliness
And bring home to you,
A permanent sense

Of belonging.
You expected remembrance,
And you expected warmth.
But the skies are gray,
The glass is cracked,
And life is cold.

Colder than their eyes,
When they looked away.
Colder than the January
That renders you older,
Every time.
Renders you even closer
To the demise of hope.

**********************************************

I speak of you,
And sing for you,
For I want you to know,
You are a part of me,
And I am a part of you.
This, a tale of rebirth,
This, a tale of Life, Death, And Everything
In Between.
There has been a summer, and a winter
Contained within Then and Now.
And as we inch towards another summer,
I know you secretly wonder,
Why I don’t smile anymore.

Everyday since Then,
Everyday since you left,
I have wished for the smile to return.
I have tried.
I have prayed.
But the erosion of my smile,
That your departure caused,
Now seems permanent.

Yes, Now, I am happier.
My smile is gone, but I am saner.
I wish You could live
This sanity too.
I wish You could smile
My smile,
And yours,
In the reassuring glow
Of my happiness.

2011

You can go to sleep crying and with a broken heart, You can wake up one morning to find yourself ugly and disfigured. You can break down every moment of everyday, You can see yourself transform into a huge burden of uselessness, You can curse yourself for being stupid, You can lose friends and their affection and never be able to figure out why they left you, you can torture yourself to give up on who you loved, but you can never STOP LOVING yourself, or give up on yourself. And there will always be some wonderful people around you to get you through life. This is what 2011 taught me. :)

The Hundredth. 7/Z/5.

This very nook, the one where I am sitting right now, was where I was when Dadu had charged at us with a wooden chair, holding it up with his two hands, under one particularly violent fit of Alzheimer’s-induced rage. Tebu was six months old then. I was all of seven years, and Buiya nine. Trembling out of fear, we had all rushed out of the room, Tebu carried by the domestic help, and out into the gully. Dadu had, after calming us, signaled us to come in, but had ordered that Mana, the domestic help, whose forcing medicines upon him had caused him to get enraged, stay out.

Dadu died a year and a half back, after suffering from the Alzheimer’s disease for almost one and a half decades. Tebu has learnt and un-learnt Canadian English and is almost in high school, and has a nine year old brother himself. Buiya is almost done with a Masters degree in English, and I’m in sophomore year of College, desperately trying to figure out the intricate nuances of Economics. The Powerpuff-Girls poster has been scrapped off the wall behind me, and the editions of ‘Desh’ and ‘Anandalok’ stacked up on the racks are there no more. But after almost twelve years and many cities, apartments, schools and life-altering experiences today, we’re permanent residents of 7/Z/5, Picnic Garden First Lane, again.How much do renovations change, really? The set-up within each room has received drastic make-overs, but each corner is still painted with indelible memories. This,and 5-Ballygunge Place were the two homes I spent my earliest years in. The place I came home to right after I was born, the place where I learnt to stand up, to talk and walk, the endless humid-summer evenings spent on the ‘chhad’, the Tents-and-Adventures games with Tebu, Mongolamashi coming to work every morning, and engaging in squabbles with Thammu, Protima bringing us small-little souvenir toys from the fairs, the ‘mela’ near their slum, , Lebu’s birth, countless family gatherings. Within the walls of this home, my years of growing up have been kept preserved carefully.

Of course, once we moved out of Calcutta, and got acquainted with other towns and their people, the strings connecting me to this place began to grow weak. Sure, there still would be the coming-back-and-spending-the-vacations here, but that too got divided between here and Jodhpur Park, Lav-Kush, Abhyudoy, Salt Lake and all those other places. Eventually, there would be entire vacations when I’d not visit here even once. The walls lost their glow, the plasters and wall-papers were eroding away, the rooms got messier, and Dadu and Thammu older. The Nidharias moved to their own home, and then to Canada. Dadu got increasingly immobile, and soon, I had no reason to spend my time here any more.

After Dadu and Thammu had moved to Salt Lake, and Dadu’s demise in 2009, 7/Z/5 was left nothing more than a lot of rooms and old rickety ‘bonedi’ furniture covered with dust. Hence, not without reason, after its having housed us for twenty two years, Baba decided to sell it off, earlier this year.

The very next month I fell fifty feet, from a window of the Rajarhat apartment. I survived, but was ‘scarred’ enough to reject any ideas of going back to the fourth floor apartment where we were staying, or the one where we were to move to. Ergo, an entire make-over for 7/Z/5, and moving back here. Life has strange ways of mocking us and our plans sometimes. Today, I’m learning to walk all over again, in the same house where I learned to walk first, twenty years ago. Very few things have stayed the same. The ‘aangan’ behind the house is where it was, though it looks so much smaller today. The name-plate on the front door still bears the name of the 5 original-Goswamis. The Maxim-Gorky and Kafka novels still lay stacked in the drawing-room book-rack. But the single-houses lining the lane then, have given way to apartment-blocks today. Today, Shilpa Shetty no longer gyrates to “Jawaani Ka Alam” on television. Today, tears do not start flowing over one missed episode of Scooby-Doo. Today, the cabinet housing all of the ‘Shuktara’ and the ‘Sandesh’ issues, or the ‘Sinhasan’ with the idols and ‘nokul-danas’ are there no more. Today, I’m no longer convinced about the prospect of the existence of a fantasy-world infested by perilous ghostly-lions (all of it cooked up by my sister), just beyond the guava tree behind the ‘aangan’. Today, the guava-tree itself doesn’t exist. All that exist are fading memories of events of Not-So-Long-Ago, the rooms exactly where they were, and midnight-musings such as these.

The Ninety-Seventh Post

During those nights when I’d lie lifelessly in my irksomely tiny-and-white bed in the Intensive Critical Care Unit of the hospital, fleeting in and out of a drugged consciousness, sometimes I’d study the screens connected to the bodies of the other suffering souls. Those screens had every possible color depicting the various physical conditions, heart-rates, oxygen-saturation levels et cetera, of the patients, in every possible font. They resembled monsters from across the Vaitarna, one for guarding each unfortunate victim in that room, ready to grab hold of him immediately, should he lose his struggle for life. The suffocating silence looming in the dimly-lit room would be punctured at times by the nervous whispers of the visiting doctors and attendants, the heart-rending moaning noises made by an elderly occupant or the guttural, animal-like loud-cries from the bed housing a man from Kuwait, who I had heard had completely lost his memory after having fallen from about the same height as I.

All of these sight and visions would creep into my dreams, plaguing them, turning them into nightmares. There would be relief from waking from these dreams, only to be reminded that the nightmare I was living, the one I had purchased a permanent ticket to, through exercise of my unquestionable stupidity, carelessness and lack of concern for my own life, was not one I could be ever woken up from. I had fucked up. Fucked up, majorly.

Ma and Baba would visit during the visiting hours, which would be the happiest hours in the day for me. The only hours with human communication, with contact with the familiar, with anything remotely close to happiness, with warmth and love. Ma would also bring me news of my friends visiting me, friends who would come visit everyday without fail, even with the knowledge that I was recovering, even with the knowledge that they wouldn’t even get to see me. In the perplexing sanity of that room, with nothing much to do, I would think of the numerous things I could and would say to each one of them, to my friends and parents and family. So many things I’d own up to, confess, openly scream out, whine about, fearlessly opine about, and ruminate over guilt-free and in public. Now of course, back in the relatable insanity of the ‘real’-world, where every soul is bound by limitations and unspoken, unexpressed, incomplete dangling conversations, I realize, that I’m never going to say all those things I wanted to, to all those several people, ever in life.

End is where the Start is.

(I)You spend long years to figure out ways to stuff them all in together. A truckload of skeletons that must be stuffed into a closet. One tumbles out, some other two get entangled at their ribs. The skull comes off a fourth, the knee caps of a fifth turn into dust. Yet conveniently, you manipulate and mutilate enough just to dispose them off, into their silent, nonchalant existence into the closet. You feel relieved. Like they have been done away with forever. Into that little wardrobe of yours, at the other end of which there is no Narnia. A wardrobe that seemingly has just one vent, just one channel. One lock. And then they have been reduced to silent nothings in your memory. You try to forget the skeletons were your creation.

So one day, you return home, or whatever you call that supposed secure dwelling place of yours. And- HAHA! They’re all out there. Defying the safety of that singular-valved-cupboard. Crippled, mangled, but vengeful. Venomous for having been tucked away for so long. They take over your own. It’s a defeat, ultimately.

(II)Ofcourse. My tales arent the ones worth narrating. Let's spend this last evening of my life listening to you.

(III)You make it a routine.
Liking them. Seeing them. Hanging out. Liking them.
They are where the world begins, and ends.
Every face.
Irreplaceable support system.
And then one defects.
You wish everything would turn to normal.

If only wishes were meant to come true.
Falling apart.
Easy way out.

(IV)Life is circular. One never departs from his flaws, but just blindfolds himself into believing it is not a circle but a line he is treading on.

(V)So tell me. Why do I not have the liberty to make my own choices?
What’s that?
You worry I shall get burned?
Well, if that fire is my only path to solace, then who are you to tell me not to take the plunge?
And what use is it.
To stay back, to dwell within you all, Only to be labeled?
Labels, conventions, yes I create them as well.
Naturally, it pains me when I need to consume what I produce.
Basic Economics. I want better, not what I can already have.
Who am I kidding?
When did I have the option?
Wasn’t fire always the only option for me?

You see, you all are cool people. You listen to Pink Floyd while smoking marijuana and the ‘grass’ really makes you feel like you are dwelling within Elysian Lawns. So by virtue of such things that you do, you are more than perfectly licensed to laugh at me if I tell you that Ila Arun and her mustard-and-nicotine tonsils get me high.And I'm that uncool. Deal with it.

Also, I hear Mr. Ragupathi is retiring in a month. Surely that's a good thing in a way. But the question is how good is it? I mean Adolf Hitler too was a characteristic of 1940's Europe, right? With his (self-inflicted)departure, a lot changed in Europe. So with this man's departure(as well of his wife's, scheduled for two years later) a lot of things are going to change in De Nobili School, Maithon. Not that things have stayed the same ever since I left(2007) though. All the political/financial debacle that the school underwent, I am merely happy all of that is now over, and the school is back in experienced, able and dependable hands.

November and December 2009, and January 2010

To start with, my sister just knocked on my door asking me to leave the door open. Flustered by the prospect of a sudden, random intrusion into my privacy, I asked her the reason behind the demand/request. She said, she was feeling scared in the other room, alone. It’s 2 in the morning, and my twenty-one year old sister with a chin piercing and death-metal inclinations is feeling scared of being alone in a room.

Of late, I’ve been going out quite a lot. Birthdays, festivals, random socializing occasions, movie-marathons, I’m doing them all. Well, studies was supposed to attain ultra-importance right from the beginning of 2010, but that, I guess, is not happening soon. So, on one hand I’ve been keeping the company of culturally-inclined Bangali kids, the ones who love World-Cinema, and indie music, folk-rock and Bob Dylan, the ones who understand theatre and can perform an autopsy of Orhan Pamuk or Franz Kafka’s style and body of work, and get high on marijuana under the moonlight, while on the other, I’m finding myself around Marwari and Gujarati kids, in little black dresses, and expensive black shirts, ones that ‘chiggy-wiggy’ to Hindi music at ‘raat ke dhaai baje’ and drive around the city in expensive and huge cars, and choose to watch ‘Chance Pe Dance’ over ‘A Christmas Carol’ and garnish their vocabulary with ‘like’ and ‘yaaa’…
I mean no offence to anyone though. I’ve grown up with lots of different kinds of people around me, and so, these little limitations of both clans never bother me much. I derive the best of both(or more) worlds.

At the birthday party I hosted along with Aritri and Nisha, at my uninhabited Rajarhat apartment, a lot of spilling happened. I was scared about the walls, but thankfully, the freshly painted ones didn’t get too badly stained, and I didn’t really un-build the ones I construct for my own privacy. What was extremely strange was, seven-and-a-half(one of them- a ‘patiala’) pegs of ‘Magic Moments’ did almost nothing to me. I remember speaking with a hushed voice, and serving food to the guests after the intake. Having a high capacity is one thing, and not getting affected after seven-and-a-half pegs is something at an entirely higher level. Scary, much.

Strangely enough, among the people I’ve been regularly meeting of late, are some guys from my batch of St. James’, ones I’d never ever spoken to for more than five-minutes-at-a-stretch while in school. While the closest friends from De Nobili continue to fizzle out(interactions with even Aritra and Anindita have dropped drastically, blame it on my non-acceptance-of-phone-calls-policy ;the others having disappeared from my life even before), the ones from St. James’ continue to grow more-and-more prominent in my sphere of school-friends. It’s strange, really. I’d honestly never thought that I’d pursue communication with anyone apart from Ajju and Ikshaku after school, but these things, I guess, just happen.


There has been another satisfying turn in the flow of events. I’ve got myself involved in LOK- a forum created with a vision to help promote young talent in Calcutta- help unravel precious talent in the fields of dance, theatre, movie-making, music, elocution, painting, photography. The idea was conceived by a friend, Soumyajit, and he invited me to be a part of this hugely ambitious venture. The official inauguration was held on the 3rd of January. For the event, the team got a folk-theatre group from Chhattisgarh to Calcutta. Apart from a performance(Raja Phokalwa) by the group, a myriad of talent was up on display in the form of a photography exhibition, some live skits, songs and dance sequences, live-painting, self-composed poetry recitation done by friends from LOK itself. The modus operandi of the entire event was maintained strictly at ‘constant-interaction-with-the-audience’.

Also there has been a series of deaths this winter. This winter(2009-10) has by far been the coldest winter I’ve ever experienced in Calcutta. It reminded me strongly of the ‘interior’ majestic winters of North India, the six-degree celcius mornings in Maithon. The temperature dropped to ten degrees one day in December 2009. Apart from Dadu, Himumashi(Ma’s only sister)’s father-in-law, a very healthy man(as opposed to Dadu’s fifteen long years’ suffering), the winner of the Mr. Calcutta pageant a few decades back, passed away to a double heart-attack. He was fit enough to enjoy a normal game of cricket one evening, and the next morning, he had gone up in smoke. The others that breathed their last were a classmate’s grandmother, an old lady in a neighboring building, an aunt of a friend from LOKtheatre, and the illustrious, longest serving chief minister of any state of India, the man who was betrayed by his party from becoming the Prime Minister- Jyoti Basu.

I have, as of now, despite several rounds of planning and yearning, not yet watched the evidently mediocre movie ‘Pyaar Impossible’. Well, of course, I understand and appreciate good Cinema, but there are times when the content doesn’t matter and this movie is one such movie for me. I know that there is nothing novel or innovative about the movie, but I still feel this immense desire to go and indulge myself because of the mere presence of the utterly-edible, the perfectly-awesome, totally-and-phenomenally-gorgeous Priyanka Chopra in the movie. Among the movies I’ve watched recently and loved, however, is the magnum-opus, the path-breaking movie, which took more than a decade to be created, the first-of-its-kind, entirely 3Dimensional movie ‘Avatar’. It was a totally new experience, watching this movie. I also enjoyed ‘Chungking Express’, ‘Juno’, ‘Rocket Singh’ and the predictable-from-start-to-finish-yet-thoroughly-enjoyable ‘Three Idiots’.

Other memorable events in the last three months include the annual fest of Presidency College, ‘Milieu’, that was held in the last week of December. For the ‘Impact’, our team, consisting of Biaas, Kaushik, Shahana, Taniya and me, had a winner right from its very conceptualization, with ‘Khoon Bhari Shaam’-a Indian version of the International tear-jerking, hormone-cycles-upsetting melodrama of a novel, ‘Twilight’. Also, the ‘Indian Ocean’ performance and sneaking in all of my non-Presidency friends into the Presidency enclosure for the same is something I’m not going to forget in a hurry. Also brilliant was the Christmas Eve, which I spent with some of my best friends, having an amazingly memorable time at various places.Another important event that happened in November was the mid-term exam. For the first time in my life, I found myself at the bottom of a class, academically. With a meager thirty-eight out of a possible hundred (and only five students below me in this chronology), I’ve obviously become one of the most scorned students of my department (Well, at least sharing a sour relationship with teachers is nothing new for me). I do not know whether my cataclysmic downfall was because my present classmates are more in love with text-books than any previous set of my classmates (quite justifiable, they are after all, students of the most esteemed Economics department of the sub-continent, their attachment with academics is sacrosanct), or whether I have sailed farther out in the dangerous ocean of ‘non-association-with-course-material’. I am hoping to make a come-back in the ‘toppers-of-class’ list, but the chances of that occurring appear to be very, very bleak. This fact should be clearly evident from the reality academics found mention at the very end of this post, after everything else. Which is to say, this note, ends right here, abruptly, like all of my other life-update notes

Happy Birthday To Me... and thanks everybody.

That belief just got re-iterated.

However much I might continue to try and find life-driving forces from my depression.
The fact remains, I’ve got(and always had) amaaaaaazzzinggg friends and an awwwwweeeesommmmme family.
I can never thank anyone enough for all of them.

Happy 19th Birthday to me…

Gloom and despair aren’t around the corner, Success is. Celebrations are.
Everything will fall into place. Everything will work out.. :) :)

Chocolates.

Well, chocolates.
How special are they?
Do they really deserve more of that unquestioned, unaudited kind of love than a good little angel like me ever got?



What is with all the craving for chocolates?
All that they can do is - touch my tongue, and then melt on it, then coat it with a gooey, sweet layer of itself.
They are highly expensive, but they melt like 'ekdom neka poshto' or 'nonir putool'...

If I indeed have to make love to something that is expensive, ANDmelts,
I'd rather choose Gael Garcia Bernal over chocolates.

Is there a chocolate-Penelope Cruz or a Chocolate-Gael Garcia Bernal anywhere?

Turning Thirty/Old

4th December 2009

I was watching the 14th episode of the 7th season of the sitcom F.R.I.E.N.D.S- ‘The One Where They All Turn Thirty’, which explored how paranoid people, in general, get when they turn thirty. While Rachel argues, “I’m still 29 in Guam” on her thirtieth birthday, Joey accuses God saying that the Omnipotent had a deal with him, “Let the others grow old, not me” on his 30th, and says “You’re Chandler no more” on Chandler’s, and Monica blurts out a drunk-speech claiming she could do whatever she wants to, since she was 30, on her 30th… Also, Chandler and Monica, themselves thirty as well, present a card to Rachel for her 30th that goes “Happy Birthday, Grandma”, to poke fun at the newest kid to have crossed the barrier-of-twenty.
This particular syndrome finds mention in a lot of places. The fact that whenever a person turns any-multiple-of-ten, whenever the second digit of one’s age goes from 9 to 0, and the first goes on to become the next integer, one particularly feels a great deal older. Not that I relate with it. When I turned ten, I don’t think I was particularly sad, and I haven’t turned twenty (or for that matter, nineteen) yet.

But how would it feel when I turn thirty?
I guess I will be feeling down and blue. Most of my friends know how I want to die at twenty nine, for, well, thirty is too old.
Right now, it seems like an event that is due sometime a light-year away. It is too distant a prospect to be given a serious thought. Life, however, has always terrified me with just how fast it is. It’s so fast that a person is a child at a point of time, and suddenly he’s in high-school, and then in college, then he gets married, has children, retires from his job, and the very next thing he knows, he is preparing himself for his death. This, I know, shall apply to me as well. I will turn nineteen next January, then twenty, and then thirty before I know. I have always loathed growing up, growing old.

We all keep some targets fixed in life. I know I want to be on the top of the world by the time, I’m twenty six, and I want to enjoy success for four years, and then make a quick exit out from life while still at the pinnacle. But will I still look at life the same way when I’m thirty? Won’t I want to live on and enjoy my success, IF I am successful? won’t think of myself as an old loser, with nothing to live for, when I’m thirty. That won’t quit be possible? I will have the desire to live, to enjoy, even then .And for all you know, the messed up, laid-back person that I am, will I be able to achieve anything at all by thirty?

In the words of some wise man, “You’re as young as you feel”. I have an upper-hand here, though. I don’t feel older than fifteen currently. And I know for a fact that my age might render me old, but with my tastes and way of living life, I will never be too old to enjoy. I wonder what use that will be of, since most of my friends will have become too grumpy and serious with life by then, and the teenagers and young people will obviously not want the thirty-year-old-me to be a part of their activities. I wonder, I wonder what all that shall be like?

However, right now, I am eighteen, and I have a very good life, with the right balance of overwhelming joy and mind-numbing sorrow, and I have got great friends, and good education, and wonderful family, and if this blog exists till 15 January, 2021, we shall read this post again, and discuss all of this in a new light.


6th December 2009

I, indeed, am feeling very old these days. Only today I was attending the 12th birthday party of one of my only three first cousins, and well, I was made to watch Dhoom-2 with a bunch of kids, aged between ten and thirteen. All of these kids, the new-age tech-geeks, gadget-gurus had a unique take on every scene of the movie, and I was not only feeling left out, but also weirdly uncool and back-dated. Well, most of the comments they made were pretty silly, but still some of the things they discussed, and their way of looking at me with non- acceptive eyes made me very uneasy. These kids on the verge of stepping into their teenage, made me, almost stepping out of mine want to sing the My Chemical Romance song “Teenagers scare the living shit out of me…”

Walks. Through City Roads.

I walk. Long distances.
Presidency to Ballygung Phari. Or Kalighat Metro Station to Ballygung Phari. Or City Centre to Hyatt Regency… and those countless other routes.
I walk whenever possible.
Walking is my most favorite means of conveyance.
It also gives me the feeling that I’m not depending on anyone else to transport me elsewhere. I’m independent.
Walking lets me soak in so much of the city.
I walk past so many people.
Some look lost. Some look determined. Some look too pleased with themselves.
Some walk alone.
Some walk with another person. Just one. A friend. A parent. A lover. And sometimes, even a stranger.
Some walk in huge groups.
Some walk as a cluster of a few-similarly clothed individuals.

However, something, most unfortunately, is common among all of them.
They, (almost) none of them, really look around to See. To absorb the world around.
They do not pause to look at the careless wall-graffiti on the walls on both sides.
The incessant wars being waged through those ‘dewaal-likhons’.
They do not pause to admire the delectably marvellous sight of sunrays seeping through pauses and recesses between those hundreds of tree leaves, that could have otherwise formed a green dome overhead.
They do not perceive the sheer bliss in the smiles of the children that call the roads their home.
They do not look at how every alternate manhole is left uncovered in a certain central Calcutta street.
They do not enjoy the aroma of the scented flowers on those trees the names of which they mightn’t know.
They do not derive the immense sadistic pleasure from kicking the small pebbles lining the pavements, from being able to dislocate them from where they had been resting peacefully.
They do not experience the wrath unleashed by the rain-gods on the little kittens that try to desperately find shelter and end up meowing relentlessly, in tones that evoke terrible sympathy.
Hence, they lose out on an extreme variety of potentially motto-of-life altering experiences, encounters, events and/or episodes.

September and October 2009

I think I’ve fallen in love, yet again. This time it’s an Icelandic band called ‘Sigur Ros’(Victory Rose). The band was formed in 1994 in Reykjavik by singer and guitarist Jón Þór Birgisson, bassist Georg Hólm and drummer Ágúst Ævar Gunnarsson, and I discovered it only days back, following a status update by Mayukh where he’d proclaimed that he loves the band. Now since I generally relate with Mayukh’s taste of music, I downloaded it, and was totally swept off my feet. Mayukh had said, “(Listening to the band gives you the feeling of) being under the blanket on a very rainy day.” Comfort and luxury epitomized. It’s like an Icelandic Simon-and Garfunkel, he’d said. And I can’t agree more.

I’m very happy because Ajju is coming back to Calcutta on the 2nd of November, and hence the CCD/Mamma Mia visits will become the order of the day once again. We’ve a lot of catching up to do, and am really looking forward to his return. Anindita too, will be visiting Calcutta some time in the next week. What terrible excitement! Two of my best friends are coming home at the same time...(Oh, my bad! Calcutta isn’t exactly the place Tiku would call home, but whattheheck?)

I have also been procrastinating the act of sanctifying my Fbook friend list. Last checked, it stood at 405, and I need to clear the mess and bring it down to 200, at the most. One more thing I’ve been putting off is watching new movies. I’ve got several tempting new(ly downloaded) movies lying unwatched… ‘Rear Window’, ‘Pierrot Le Fou’, ‘Antichrist’ etc. And I need to watch them soon. But each time I intend to do the same, I end up watching an old episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

Diwali was fun. We got drunk on Rhea’s Hiland Park chhat(eh, no, not totally sloshed, but just mild boozing) and later, had a crazy, crazy, crazy dance session in her drawing-room. Her antique-piece-loaded drawing room reeks of old Bengali bonediyana(aristocracy), the sort I associate my grandparents and great-grandparents with, the thing that many of those first-generation-rich families totally lack. I loved the old pipes and hookkahs and grandfather clocks, and pianos. There was a very odd faith-ant stuffed toy on one sofa, which despite its undoing effect on the entire ‘bonedi-baari’ feel, was claimed to be a great favorite of hers by Rhea.

The mid-term exam is scheduled for mid-November, and well, as always, my preparation is close to nil. What’s funny(well, not really, it has always been an old habit) is that I’m not even striving towards the completion of any minuscule percentage of the syllabus). Sid won’t wake up, ever, I guess.

September was great. I was the Presidency College ‘rep’ at the Loreto College fest, ‘Samagam’. We also had our Departmental Fresher’s(where I was crowned Mr. Fresher’s :D) and Student Union Fresher’s(which was fun mainly because of the disco we made out of the Derozio-Audi). September also was about a lot of hanging out, here and there, randomly, and the masterpiece was made in Taniya-and-Roli’s birthday party-cum-sleepover. The entire circle was there(barring obviously the outstation-candidates) and with the subtle and not-so-subtle undercurrents that kept flowing, the crackling chemistry between some people, and the damp-squibs some others made out of themselves, it was one helluva night.

Then the Punjab-Delhi-Haryana-Himachal tour I took with my family was refreshening. It re-established my North India connection, and made me fall in love with the North all over again. Also, in the last four months, owing to an ever-increasing requirement of proficiency in Bangla, I’ve forgotten the little nuances of a Delhi-Hindi totally. This tour helped me scratch off the surface-rust to an extent, and rediscover myself.

All in all, life’s okay. The winter’s come in quite early. The weather’s starting to turn chilly though October hasn’t faded away yet. Rudrani thinks I write like females do, and I can’t really disagree. She also insists on calling me ‘Tokai’ despite my claiming that I’m the Kolabou. Also hilarious is how Chitrangada Singh says “Signs of aging, leave them behind, Take Care!” in the new Garnier advertisement. The trailers of ‘Kurbaan’ look very promising, and Vivek Oberoi, finally, looks back in form. It has a very international feel to it, and looks straight out of some Hollywood studio. Kareena- I fall in love with over and over again, and this time’s no exception. The song 'Kurbaan Hua' is remarkable in the way it's both sympathy-evoking and also coarse,rough,and adrenaline-rush-stimulating at the same time. I’ve been making frequent visits to the Joo, but they’ll soon be no-longer possible once classes at Presidency re-commence.

Enough for now… Oh and yes, well, bleh, nevermind…. Someone looks so cute, but so what? I’ll shut up.

My Resolutions And The Girl-I've-Never-Met-Properly's Retorts

People don’t like me. They loathe me. They are irritated with the way I am. My mum tells me if I stay the way I am, I shall find it difficult to survive in this world. I relate with the trailers of ‘Wake Up Sid’, and I realize that being such a great shirker is not at all a good thing. I have realized I need to be a certain way to exist in today’s world, I have realized I need to be just another brick in the wall, because if I tend to differ, the world will point out how horribly mindfucking an undoing I am to the entire aesthetic beauty of the wall, and will not allow me to rest until I have camouflaged myself according to how the rulebooks would have me be.

Thus, I have resolved to change myself in the following ways.

College Resolutions :
1. I will attend all classes, including the pass classes.
2. I will not climb the tree adjacent to the canteen
3. I will not apply hair-gel
4. I will not play hide-and-seek
5. I will not hit girls back when they hit me
6. I will not get a camera to college
7. I will not visit the tank
8. I will not order soft-drinks in the canteen
9. I will take down notes, buy atleast a few books
10. I will not shout, laugh out loudly , won’t be ‘loud’ in general
11. I will not pair any of my classmates up with other people just to tease them
12. I will stay within my limits
13. I will not dance to vulgar steps a la the ‘Raat Ke Dhai Baje’ Step
14. I will not wear shorts(esp. checked ones) to college
15. I will wear tees to college, only full-sleeved shirts
16. I will not wear a hair-band to college
17. I will not photograph anyone without their permission
18. I will not behave like a girl
19. I will not smile like there’s no tomorrow
20. I will not go “Goggiieee” when I see the pups near the canteen
21. I will never visit the Quadrangle
22. I will respect my seniors
23. I will respect everyone’s feelings even if they don’t respect mine
24. I will call no one names even if I find them bitching about me.
25. I will be a career-oriented person.
26. I will be best friends with Pranabes Dutta
27. I will try to like Sambojyoti Biswas , will not think of him as filth
28. I will not check out girls
29. I will not wear slippers to college, only 1990’s cheap-shoes.
30. I will not raindance infront of professors.

Life Resolutions:
1. I will not want to be Peter Pan
2. I will not dream of making movies
3. I will not go looking for Neverland
4. I will not drink coffee
5. I will get hair-cuts on time
6. I will not make anti-Assamese racist jokes
7. I will not switch on the fan when my mom is cold
8. I will not play Farmville
9. I will not relate with the black-sheep while playing Farmville
10. I will try to give up on Facebooking
11. I will not use nyaka-lingo like ‘nyaka’, ‘re’, ‘Ahare’
12. I will hate Hindi, because it is cool to.
13. I will hate Bangla, because it is cool to.
14. I will hate Hindi and Bangla, even though I love them both, because English is for the cool-kids
15. I will not be such an uncool-kid
16. I will love army-movies
17. I will hate the Faraway Tree because I’m a kid no longer
18. I will hate the Harry Potter series because it is a sell-out
19. I will dislike Queen because Freddie Mercury was gay
20. I will support homosexuality in a debate-competition and then later laugh about gay people
21. I will not ask for Ray-Ban sunglasses
22. I will not like Joan Baez
23. I will not whine if my iTunes doesn’t read my iPod
24. I will be politically aware
25. I will hate the rain because adults face a lot of inconvenience whenever it rains
26. I will hate Bollywood because it stoops down to plagiarism, and Hollywood doesn’t(nevermind those countless reproductions of K-horror and J-horror flicks)
27. I will be responsible
28. I will not sleep till 1 pm
29. I will not want to consume bullets for breakfast and piranhas for lunch
30. I will not compose insanely sugar-coated poems like Colourfly
31. I will remember that triphenylmethyl radical was the first free radical discovered
32. I will remember that only losers are interested in the love stories of their favorite actors
33. I will not confuse Gauss’s Theorem with Ampere’s Circuital law
34. I will know how to differentiate and double-differentiate functions that resemble the Russian script.
35. I will not be skeptical about Obama’s intentions.
36. I will always think, ‘Yes, I can’. Only losers are ever insecure.
37. I will not show-off that I know the capitals of most of the countries of today’s segregated world
38. I will truly repent that I never took my engineering Joint-entrance exams despite scoring a 93.5% with sciences in my School-final(ISC) exams.
39. I will not want to be a globe-trotter
40. I will be happy to end up with a job in an office-cubicle
41. I will be a typical Bangali, and like Maachh-bhaat
42. I will not be proud of my Jharkhand-small town upbringing. I will only talk about my Army upbringing.
43. I will not like Calcutta because it is a laid-back city, despite the fact that this very city has been home to my grandparents, and parents and my sister and me.
44. I will pretend that I hated Biology in school since guys who like it are effeminate
45. I will like Maths, because ‘intelligent’ people are adept at it
46. I will not be stuck up when I meet new people for I might be labeled ‘snob’, I will not be overly friendly when I meet new people for I might be labeled ‘desperate’. I will not be confused not knowing what to do.
47. I will learn to play the guitar. Cool guys know how to.
48. I will not be random
49. I will not brood
50. I will not like Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy’s ‘Pyaar Ke Liye’ but I will like Rahman’s ‘Jiggy-Wiggy’ because it is Rahman, afterall.
51. I will not like Rani Mukherjee.
52. I will not relate with Phoebe Buffay/ Luna Lovegood
53. I will not crib about having to travel with dirty people in public vehicles. Political Incorrectness, I am told
54. I will not like Golmaal Returns
55. I will like Scarlett Johansson because normal guys do.
56. I will never be up to any mischief
57. I will know who I am
58. I will not love the smell of petrol.
59. I will not feel bad for the Coyote, and curse the Road Runner’s precociousness
60. I will not lose another mobile phone
61. I will learn to not hold grudges. This way, I’ll be a better person
62. I will not manipulate
63. I will not make fun of Ikshaku
64. I will be perfect
65. I will not live.



To which my dear friend Rudrani replied :


Quand Goswami est devenu fou (Corrections/Comments are done in Italics)

People don’t like me. UTTER UTTER LIE! BUT NO LONGER SO AFTER THIS NOTE.
They loathe me. NOW, MAYBE. TO THINK YOU'D BE INSECURE ENOUGH ABOUT YOURSELF TO DO THIS ... IT'S NOT LOATHING THOUGH, IT'S DISAPPOINTMENT
They are irritated with the way I am. *CHOKH KOTMOT*
My mum tells me if I stay the way I am, I shall find it difficult to survive in this world.
I relate with the trailers of ‘Wake Up Sid’, and I realize that being such a great shirker is not at all a good thing. DUDE, THEY ARE MUMS! THIS IS PART OF THEIR JOB DESCRIPTION! TO MAKE THEIR KIDS FEEL LIKE VERMIN-INFESTED APES. WHY RID THEM OF THIS SIMPLE JOY?
I have realized I need to be a certain way to exist in today’s world, I have realized I need to be just another brick in the wall, because if I tend to differ, the world will point out how horribly mindfucking an undoing I am to the entire aesthetic beauty of the wall, and will not allow me to rest until I have camouflaged myself according to how the rulebooks would have me be. SEE THE WHOLE BRICK THING, MAKES FOR A REALLY GOOD SONG! BUT HATE TO BREAK IT TO YOU KID, YOU AREN'T PINK FLOYD, SO STOP BOTHERING ABOUT IT ! HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TO ITALY? OR MEXICO? BHERY BHERY PRETTY! PARTLY COZ NO ONE GIVES A DAMN ABOUT WHAT THEIR WALLS LOOK LIKE! IT'S ALL JAZZED UP! WHO WANTS A PLAIN WALL WHEN YOU CAN HAVE A ORNATE ONE?

Thus, I have resolved to change myself in the following ways.

College Resolutions :
1. I will attend all classes, including the pass classes. IF YOU WANT TO, SURE! BUT ALWAYS ... NAH! CLASSES ARE KINDA OVERRATED. ESPECIALLY YOU MUST NEVER BURDEN YOUR BRAINS WITH THE CLASSES THAT CONSIST OF ARCHAIC VERBAGE THAT DOES NOTHING FOR YOU! OKKE?
2. I will not climb the tree adjacent to the canteen WHY DEPRIVE YOUR SYSTEM OF THE EXERCISE?
3. I will not apply hair-gel THAT IS THE ONE GOOD THING I HAVE SEEN SO FAR :P
4. I will not play hide-and-seek EBABA! OUTRAGEOUS! ETA PATI MENE NEWA JACHHENA
5. I will not hit girls back when they hit me JUST AVOID THE RACK, AND YOU SHOULD BE OK WITH THIS ONE!
6. I will not get a camera to college CARTIER ER NATI AMAR, JUSTIFY THIS ONE ....
7. I will not visit the tank BESH NONGRA AR DURGONDHO JAEGA, KINTU MAJHE MODHYE GELE SHOJHYO SHOKTI BARBE
8. I will not order soft-drinks in the canteen AND MISS OUT ON THE TINY GLASSES OF DUBIOUS SMELLING LIQUID THAT I SUSPECT IS SPURIOUS COKE, HARGIS NAHI!
9. I will take down notes, buy atleast a few books ETA KORAI JAE! TEMON CHAAP NEI
10. I will not shout, laugh out loudly , won’t be ‘loud’ in general MAJHE MAJHE NA CHECHALE, PRACTICE CHOLE JABE. TOKKHON JOKHON SHOTTI I PROTIBAAD KORTE CHECHANO DORKAR, DEKHBI AR PARCHHISHNA. BEING 'LOUD' ER I TO BOYESH BOSS, PORE GOMBHIR WHITE COLLAR KAKU HOWA JABE KHON! KEMON?
11. I will not pair any of my classmates up with other people just to tease them ARRE, MOST COUPLES ARE BORN OUT OF THIS! OTOEB, ETA NA KORLE, YOU DEPRIVE A LOT OF PEOPLE OF LOVE, BUZLA?
12. I will stay within my limits DEFINE LIMITS
13. I will not dance to vulgar steps a la the ‘Raat Ke Dhai Baje’ Step HAVE YOU SEEN THE DANCE? OTA KE RESIST KORA JAENA! EROM KORLE CONSPITATION HOBE!
14. I will not wear shorts(esp. checked ones) to college AT LEAST LAAL TA PORISH! PLICCH PLICHH
15. I will wear tees to college, only full-sleeved shirts GOROM KALE GHAMACHI HOBE!
16. I will not wear a hair-band to college YOU HAVE MY FULL SUPPORT!
17. I will not photograph anyone without their permission AIYO! TEHELKA MONE ACHHE? PERMISSION CHHARA CHHOBI NITE REFUSE KORLE ESHOB KOKKHONO HOTO?
18. I will not behave like a girl COMMENTS RESERVED
19. I will not smile like there’s no tomorrow HERE'S THE SECRET KID, THERE IS NO TOMORROW!
20. I will not go “Goggiieee” when I see the pups near the canteen ORA DUKHHU PABE TOH! OTA PRAANI NIRJATON HOE JABE!
21. I will never visit the Quadrangle ETA KI?
22. I will respect my seniors UNLESS THEY ARE COMPLETE BITCHES/BASTARDS!
23. I will respect everyone’s feelings even if they don’t respect mine :) :) :)
24. I will call no one names even if I find them bitching about me. AC OCCASIONAL TUM FAB FAALE KUTTE HO NEVER HURT ANYONE!
25. I will be a career-oriented person. NOTHING WRONG WITH THAT, UNLESS IT'S AT THE COST OF ANOTHER FACET OF ZE PERSONALITY
26. I will be best friends with Pranabes Dutta EKE AMI CHININA, TOBE EKE AMAR MOTEO POCHHONDO HOCHHE NA
27. I will try to like Sambojyoti Biswas , will not think of him as filth SAME AS ABOVE
28. I will not check out girls SAME AS THE PUPS! ORA DUKKHU PABE. THIS IS THE MUCH NEEDED EGO BOOST FOR THEM.
29. I will not wear slippers to college, only 1990’s cheap-shoes. VINTAGE IS COOL, UNLESS THESE ARE PUMP SHOES!
30. I will not raindance infront of professors. MIGHT BE A GOOD IDEA! BUT THEN I HAVE DONE DHAN TA NAN IN FRONT OF MY HOD. HE DIDN'T SEEM TO MIND MUCH! YOU MIGHT AS WELL ASK THEM TO JOIN YOU AND BE SURPRISED :D

Life Resolutions:
1. I will not want to be Peter Pan MANCHHINA
2. I will not dream of making movies MANBONA
3. I will not go looking for Neverland PUJO R CHHUTI PORLEI KHUJTE JABO. KEMON? MORE IMPORTANTLY, PEYEO JABO!
4. I will not drink coffee SHORIR ER POKKHE BHALO! KINTU CAFFEIN BRAIN ER FUEL ! OTOEB, YOU SHALL BE FORCEFED (DRUNK??) COFFEE
5. I will get hair-cuts on time
6. I will not make anti-Assamese racist jokes ARE IKSHAKU DUKKHU PABE JE!
7. I will not switch on the fan when my mom is cold AWWLE!
8. I will not play Farmville VERY ANNOYING! BUT IT'S PART OF BEING RITWIK GOSWAMI, AND HENCE, NA KHELLE MARBO!
9. I will not relate with the black-sheep while playing Farmville hEE hEE
10. I will try to give up on Facebooking *NARROWS EYES* IS THIS MOCKING ME?
11. I will not use nyaka-lingo like ‘nyaka’, ‘re’, ‘Ahare’ AHAREEEE!
12. I will hate Hindi, because it is cool to. WHAT RUBBISH! ONE MUST NOT INSULT RASHTRA BHASHA
13. I will hate Bangla, because it is cool to. THEN HO WILL YOU SAY GANDU?
14. I will hate Hindi and Bangla, even though I love them both, because English is for the cool-kids YOU IS AN UNKOOL-KID AND WE LUURVE YOU THAT WAY, OKKE?
15. I will not be such an uncool-kid M'DEAR ARORA, SEE ABOVE
16. I will love army-movies THAT TOH IS OKKE! KHUB KANNA KATI KORLE HORMONAL BALANCE THIK HOE JAE! AR A 'BORDER' ONCEINAWHILE ENSURES EXACTLY THAT.
17. I will hate the Faraway Tree because I’m a kid no longer SHUTUP, KID!
18. I will hate the Harry Potter series because it is a sell-out IT IS, BUT IT IS KINDA LIKE YOU (OR ME) - WE LOVE IT DESPITE THE FLAWS!
19. I will dislike Queen because Freddie Mercury was gay OY HOMOPHOBIA! MARBO TENE EK CHOR!
20. I will support homosexuality in a debate-competition and then later laugh about gay people AND I TOH WILL TOTALLY KILL YOU!
21. I will not ask for Ray-Ban sunglasses THERE ARE COOL FAKE ONES AT GARIAHAT, WHICH WILL HAVE TO DO TILL YOU GO WHITE COLLAR KAKU AND CAN BUY ONE FOR YOURSELF
22. I will not like Joan Baez AND I WILL THEN NOT LIKE RITWIKGOSWAMI
23. I will not whine if my iTunes doesn’t read my iPod
24. I will be politically aware
25. I will hate the rain because adults face a lot of inconvenience whenever it rains GANDU!
26. I will hate Bollywood because it stoops down to plagiarism, and Hollywood doesn’t(nevermind those countless reproductions of K-horror and J-horror flicks) SAME AS ABOVE!
27. I will be responsible
28. I will not sleep till 1 pm
29. I will not want to consume bullets for breakfast and piranhas for lunch AND I WILL SHOVE A BAZOOKA DOWN YOUR THROAT!
30. I will not compose insanely sugar-coated poems like Colourfly YOU WILL NOT SAY ANYTHING AGAINST ZE COLOURFLY OR I WILL YANK YOUR RIBCAGE OUT AND WEAR IT AS A TOPHAT
31. I will remember that triphenylmethyl radical was the first free radical discovered
32. I will remember that only losers are interested in the love stories of their favorite actors BLEH!
33. I will not confuse Gauss’s Theorem with Ampere’s Circuital law
34. I will know how to differentiate and double-differentiate functions that resemble the Russian script.
35. I will not be skeptical about Obama’s intentions. HMPH
36. I will always think, ‘Yes, I can’. Only losers are ever insecure. AND YET, THIS IS A DEMONSTRATION OF INSECURITY ITSELF! AND YET, THERE ARE PEOPLE TRYING TO KNOCK SENSE INTO YOU SO THAT YOU REALIZE YOU AREN'T BLOODY IRON MAN AND ISSOKAY TO BE ALL FUDGED UP FROM TIME TO TIME
37. I will not show-off that I know the capitals of most of the countries of today’s segregated world
38. I will truly repent that I never took my engineering Joint-entrance exams despite scoring a 93.5% with sciences in my School-final(ISC) exams. NAH! NO OFFENCE TO KD, ENGINEERS ARE BORING PEEPAL!
39. I will not want to be a globe-trotter AND YET, WE SHALL FORCEFULLY TAKE YOU ALONG TO TROT THE GLOBE. WHISKEY TANGO FOXTROT!
40. I will be happy to end up with a job in an office-cubicle :( :( :( :(
41. I will be a typical Bangali, and like Maachh-bhaat TYPICAL BANGALIS ARE COOL. MACHH BHAAT ISN'T.
42. I will not be proud of my Jharkhand-small town upbringing. I will only talk about my Army upbringing. POKE POKE POKE POKE POKE POKE
43. I will not like Calcutta because it is a laid-back city, despite the fact that this very city has been home to my grandparents, and parents and my sister and me. CALCUTTA IS HEAVEN ON EARTH! BAS! AND IF YOU DON'T AGREE TO THIS, I'LL MANGLE YOUR BALLS! I SWEAR
44. I will pretend that I hated Biology in school since guys who like it are effeminate AND YET, GUYS ARE AS SEX STARVED AS THEY ARE! HAH, GUYS LOVE BIOLOGY! AND CHEMISTRY! AND YES, THIS IS A LAME JOKE. BUT I HAVE A FEVER. SO LAUGH ANYWAYS.
45. I will like Maths, because ‘intelligent’ people are adept at it
46. I will not be stuck up when I meet new people for I might be labeled ‘snob’, I will not be overly friendly when I meet new people for I might be labeled ‘desperate’. I will not be confused not knowing what to do. BE RITWIK GOSWAMI ! HE SEEMS OK EVEN WHEN YOU ARE DRUNK AND HATE THE WORLD! XD
47. I will learn to play the guitar. Cool guys know how to.
48. I will not be random OVERRULED
49. I will not brood MAJHE MAJHE BROOD KORLE SKIN BHALO HOY!
50. I will not like Shankar-Ehsaan-Loy’s ‘Pyaar Ke Liye’ but I will like Rahman’s ‘Jiggy-Wiggy’ because it is Rahman, afterall. THERE S A SONG CALLED JIGGY WIGGY???
51. I will not like Rani Mukherjee.
52. I will not relate with Phoebe Buffay/ Luna Lovegood THEREBY LOSING OUT RELATING YOURSELF TO TWO OF THE COOLEST FICTIONAL CHARACTERS EVER
53. I will not crib about having to travel with dirty people in public vehicles. Political Incorrectness, I am told AND CAPRICORN SNOBBERY!
54. I will not like Golmaal Returns
55. I will like Scarlett Johansson because normal guys do. WELL SHE IS RATHER WELL ENDOWED
56. I will never be up to any mischief NOT EVEN WHITE MISCHIEF?
57. I will know who I am I AM WHAT YOU SEE/ I AM NOT WHAT THEY SAY/ BUT IF I TURNED OUT TO BE/ COULD YOU LOVE ME ANYWAY? LALALLALA
58. I will not love the smell of petrol. SHORIR ER POKKHE BHALO! KINTU KINTU ... IT'S A PWEETY SMELL TOH =(
59. I will not feel bad for the Coyote, and curse the Road Runner’s precociousness PIP PIP! =P
60. I will not lose another mobile phone MIGHT JUST BE AN IDEA!
61. I will learn to not hold grudges. This way, I’ll be a better person GANDU! GRUDGE BURNS CALORIES!
62. I will not manipulate
63. I will not make fun of Ikshaku EBABA! EBABA! EBABA! AND IKSHAKU WILL THEREFORE LIVE THE REST OF HIS LIFE FEELING INCOMPLETE AND DISORIENTED
64. I will be perfect PERFECTION IS RATHER OVERRATED. FLAWLESSNESS IS RATHER ENDEARING!
65. I will not live. AS THIS SHOULD DEMONSTRATE, SOME BUTTFACE LOONEY MISCREANT OR THE OTHER WILL TRY THEIR VERY BEST TO PULL YOU THROUGH EVERY TIME YOU GET SUCH AN IDEA!



Much love,

R


HaHa, Completely Hilarious....

The Month(And A Half) That Was...

There is a certain way in which I lust after things- Randomness, Shampoo, Nike shorts, Simon and Garfunkel and Economics, among others. Well, a month and a half into an undergraduate course in Economics in the best Economics department in the country (barring a certain St. Stephen’s College, New Delhi), as a student of the most prestigious college in India- Presidency College, Calcutta, I’m clueless. I am doing what I wanted to do for my under-grad course, but I’m yet to figure out the course content, and which professor is entrusted the responsibility to explain which discipline of economics to us. New York Times had described Steven D. Levitt(author of the overwhelmingly flabbergastingly delicious book ‘Freakonomics’) as a representative of “something that everyone thinks they will be when they go to grad school with Economics, but eventually they have the creative spark bored out of them by endless math”. That is exactly what is being inflicted upon me. Endless Math. Something I never was too fond of. Something I never recognized as part of Economics.

Yet there is something else that is keeping the myselfness alive in me. I’m meeting a lot of people- People from an eclectic range of societies- people from the suburbs, from the city proper, people from other states, friends of friends, people separated by varying degrees of separation- usually between three and five. The company or the momentary presence of some such people have also led to some of the most bizarre experiences of my life in these one and a half months- I was introduced to an adventurous shuttle cock, leered at a couple who were making out in the row behind me during ‘Harry Potter-6’, displayed my Bhashan-dance skills to the world while watching ‘Love Aaj Kal’ with eighteen friends, met seniors that slap their juniors when their girl friends get offended for having been captured in a photograph by the junior’s friend, befriended a girl that thinks every guy is a bisexual, got told off by a professor for having attended only sixty lectures out of a hundred, and received my school farewell diary back from a friend, eight months after school ended, and fell in love with the roof of a friend’s home. Oh yes, I’ve also been introduced to two absolutely lovely girls from a different college, who are exactly on the same mental plane as I. One recommended Wong Kar-wai to me, the other is a proficient user of the term ‘Gandu’.

I’ve been bidding goodbyes to lots of friends that are leaving the city and the country, one by one, to pursue higher education. Well, however Stoic I might be now, however much I might proclaim that I’ve learned not to hold on anymore, to let go easily, there is always a lump in the throat, always a bitter pang somewhere every time someone goes off. Well, yes, I accept the inevitable with much greater ease than before. It’s equally amazing how like a packet of cards being reshuffled ,my old friends from several sources are coming together as each others’ friends in different parts of the country.
New friends- College hasn’t been particularly disappointing in that regard. Though I’d consider only some four of five people from college to be really close to me, there are several others with whom I’ve come to share a good rapport.

A few days back, on the sixty second anniversary of India’s Independence, while surfing channels on the television, I happened to come across a show about how badly the weak monsoon this year has affected the poor farmers in Bihar and Uttar Pradesh, and how they have to go without food for long. The next channel was interviewing a child of fourteen about what his favorite gadgets are, and why he would prefer a PS-3 over an iPhone. The very same day, within the difference of an hour, I came across another show where a man in his thirties, with a proud ‘Hindu’ tilak on his head, was explaining why the Delhi High Court’s reading down of Article -377 is against the Indian Culture, how homosexuality is a choice people make, how the Western society is responsible for the society going gradually gay. He also spoke about how Maharashtra is the singular example of nationalist-sentiments in today’s Ungrateful New India, and why Biharis aren’t welcome in Mumbai. He also spoke vehemently against Bengalis, who he said are hypocrites and the proficiency they depict in being Bilinguals, in juggling Bengali and English with equal panache is mostly fake. Well no one could persuade this man to speak in Hindi, though his English made Rakhi Sawant sound eloquent.

Speaking of Rakhi Sawant, this last month saw her choose Elesh Parujanwala as her life partner. Here’s wishing the lady all the happiness that there is.My photography skills have also been receiving immense praise. I have also fallen in love with an odd assortment of things –like Feist’s ‘We’re All In The Dance’, my Black Reebok shirt, Wong Kar-wai and the Kaminey-characters. I’ve developed a crush on a girl who, I think, knows of my existence but isn’t too greatly enthusiastic about knowing me. I love the way she dresses. Yes, and I hate girls with chubby babies or Katrina Kaif or teddie bears, and guys with Cristiano Ronaldo or nameless muscular dumb studs or some Hindi 'teenage' soap guy with an irritating smile as their dps. I also feel Lola Kutty and Semi Girebaal have a lot in common, though this realization has been there in me for the last four years. I have also fallen in love with unknown people’s hairstyles and hope to be successful in aping them soon. I discovered Mayukh Bose is a brilliant Usain Boltism inventor, helped in the development of a relationship between sparrows and pizzas. A short synopsis of a very eventful month and a half is what this thing was.

Public Buses And How They Affect Me

I love my independence. My family loves it even more. They never panic if I return home after midnight. They do not subject me to extensive sessions of rebuking if I go clubbing five days a week. And they let me travel alone. So, despite hailing from a family with four four-wheelers (Oh yes, I AM showing off!)-all in extensive use, I am not allowed to use even one, for my daily use. My family wants me to grow up. And be self-sufficient. So, public vehicles(mainly buses) are what I depend on, for daily commuting.

Thus, I risk my life and dignity every morning and evening and night. For getting onto any speeding bus(most buses refuse to stop at the proper stops, but prefer to pick people up from every inch between two stops)is a challenge in itself. Some UsainBoltisms later, I am on the bus, but only for name’s sake. More often, I am hanging outside while ducking and saving my head from several other vehicles zooming past me-as if in a video game. Yet, sometimes I feel hanging outside is better than being inside. Once inside the jampacked mousehole, I notice that even the worst and the least worthless of the personalities in the world(or the city) have assumed strangely overwhelming senses of dignity. So there are the men with bigger boobs than normal women and women with more impressive moustaches than regular men clicking their tongues with irritation if any part of my body comes in touch with any of theirs. They frown at me, they glare at my low-waist jeans, they scowl at my huge bag, and then they all give me a shove with their elbows. I go places...well, within the bus, much like a shuttle-cock. And then MY elbow accidentally hits the fattest Masheema on the bulging flabs near her belly. And then there’s a huge chaos. All the women nodding in sympathy with the fat-moustached-pinksaree-greenblouse lady, and the conductor asking me to stand upright. I suddenly feel… “The world hates me”.

Even if rarely I get a place to sit, more often than not, within a minute of getting the seat to myself, an exhausted lady gets onto the bus. My sense of chivalry inhibits me from keeping the seat to myself, and I offer the seat to the lady, who takes it without a “thank you” or even half a smile. And I am back to standing, with people sweating all around me, and the humidity inside steadily on the rise(These days the rains are quite frequent, and EVERYONE knows how horrible it is to travel in a public vehicle, full of ‘normal’ people that refuse to let the windows remain open, when it is raining outside). Even I am sweating. My hair gel gets washed away with my sweat. And I start smelling like a Zoo-tiger cage. And then it happens to me… The desire to blow all the people around me up, kill them, shoot them somehow and just make space for myself… Somehow…

I have only started to travel in public hours in peak office-hours quite recently, only after I started college. In any case, I never was much of a North/Central Calcutta person. My northernmost limit of parts-of-Calcutta-I-regularly-visit used to be St. James’ School near Moulali… Now though I travel along the same route, the northernmost limit has been stretched to Sealdah-College Street. And at 10 am, you have to be at Sealdah to believe how crowded Calcutta CAN BE… There’s still more good news. With the ban on public-vehicles-older-than-fifteen-years effective, and the reduced no. of public vehicles plying, the situation will definitely become sweatier, smellier, and the clicking of tongues will surely increase manifolds…

Observe People- Just a thought

Inspired by the last scene of Benjamin Button, I came up with this:

" Some people dance in the moonlight coming into their dark rooms, some people kiss beside the Jadavpore Lake.Some people are guitarists in rock bands,some like cats and others hope to swim past the Palk Strait.Some people don't know how to tie their shoelaces,some people have the hots for Nicole Kidman, and yet some others are our mothers.Some people believe their goatees will bring them bad luck in exams,some other's eyes gleam at the mention of Lucknow, or of Batata Puri.Some people are monotheists,some deliver pizzas,some spend time on Facebook, others watch movies religiously. Some people live in the past, others in Missisauga..... All these 'SOME's come together make up the brilliant collage called 'People/Society' around us..."

It's true. Observing people can be an interesting and rewarding pastime. Once you get to know people, the various idiosyncrasies that constitute them, you can relate much easily to newer people you meet, or adapt to difficult circumstances without much hassle. You can also use the experiences,or tragedies you've known other people to have emerged unscathed from, to help you survive through similar turbulent experiences.
Call me a bitch/ gossipmonger or a jobless ass if you want to, but I like to know about people in my vicinity,and their lives. This doesn't necessarily mean I have to make friends with every one of them, or divulge MY life secrets to them, but I just try to know the people around me... It, I feel, will be of help in the long run.

Naming An Epic...

I wanted to blog!!! Everyone around me blogs, so I had to blog!! However, I needed a name for my blog. A name, which would give the readers an insight into the content of this blog, or at a macrolevel, an insight into my personality. After much deliberation, I decided on the name… ‘Cogency, Cinema And A Childhood’. Here’s why:

1.Why Cinema?

‘No art passes our conscience in the way film does, and goes directly to our feelings, deep down into the dark rooms of our souls.’ –Ingmar Bergman

I adore Cinema. I worship this form of art. I cannot live without movies and want to make a living out of conveying my vision and opinion about the world through this very medium. Fellini, Rossellini, Kurosawa, Ray, Godard, Bergman , Jean Renoir, Truffaut and others of their league made Cinema an effective mirror of our society, our lives, our thoughts, worries, emotions and passions. So, in my opinion, they, rather than the individuals described in mythology, are God(s). And a Cinema-hall(or multiplex screens, or whatever you call it) is Heaven! Though I would have liked to patronise more of the Fellini-Rossellini-esque Cinema, one hardly gets to lay one's hands on such DVDs regularly. Thus, I have to remain content in being a Hindi Cinema addict. And by the standard of Cinema they manufacture these days, I'm not complaining.

2. Why Cogency?

People who know me well tell me that the intelligence I have in me is the most attractive thing about me. (Some other people think otherwise.But this article is not about The Others). But I myself don’t want to comment about the ‘intelligence’ bit of it. I’d rather say it is my logicality, rationality and general common sense. As in, I can proudly say that I am among those very few people who question everything, analyse, reason and then derive a conclusion. I can always find flaws in myself(that, however, is no indication of any inferiority complex in me) and don’t blame others for anything that goes wrong in my life. Also, I listen to people speak. I’m not among those who’d inflict themselves heavily on others, by doing most of the speaking themselves. Even those who are not too sure of my intelligence, generally do admit that I base most of my actions on logic and reason. ‘Logicality’ or ‘Rationality’ thus would have been more obvious constituents of the name of the blog. But since the two other words had ‘C’ as their initials, use of ‘Cogency’ made the name an alliteration.

3. Why Childhood?

My childhood is something I have missed most in the last year and a half. At, 17, on the threshold of adulthood, I feel the pangs of having to bid permanent farewell to that delightful phase of my life. Everybody’s childhood is the best phase of his life. Mine is more so. Because I lived a serene childhood in an idyllic, picturesque town. And this despite the fact that I was never really deprived the advantages of a city. Calcutta, one of the hugest metropolises of India was always home and here was where I spent 4 months of every year. However, the neverland-like town which was my home for the remaining 8 months, was unlike other ordinary towns. Though it lacked the hustle and bustle of a city, it had the outlook, vision, technology and standards-of-living of any big city. I, thus had the best of both worlds. The peace and tranquility of a small-(hill)town life, as well as the imbibitions of all the uber-urban lifestyle , culture, outlook, tastes and EDUCATION. Despite having had 12 years of schooling in a school in the town, and 2 years in one in the city of Calcutta, I didn’t find much difference in the ways of both the schools. As the city school is reputed to be one of the best ones of this huge city, I can safely conclude my town school(with its administration, levels of discipline and the quality of education provided there being of the standards of the best schools of this country- the school being a part of those most prestigious inter-school associations and organizations in India), gave me the kind of education and training that not for once got me uneasy in a city school or a big-town life.


Hence, the kind of ‘Cinema’ I patronise , the ‘Cogency’ I am usually associated with, and my ‘Childhood’ are the three things that best define whoever I am today.

And this, I feel is the most aptly suited first post for this blog. I hope this also explains ‘neverlandthroughmylens.blogspot.com’
The future posts will,hopefully, be shorter.