Is there a way out!

Yes there is and I am in control! :)

I can fly!

A decade gone in biting lips....

Is that the cause? or the effect? I am convinced its a chicken and egg... but one has to bite ones tongue and move on....

Now that is called bad track record! After just more that 2 years I remembered I had a blog! or did I miss my own space? It may be virtual but thats all that I can call mine in this city where with many other things space is a constraint... how much is a square foot? (the most probable question in any adult gathering) and where is it... never mind.... somewhere in the solar system... but its mine... isnt that the most important question!

Back with a Bang!

Hey.... After lot of effort and using my best internet skills - I am back (I retrieved my dead blog) - and this time ...hopefully with a - BANG!

Load Shedding!

LOADSHEDDING (i remember quite distinctly elders in the house getting quite iriitated by its arrival) this word used to be a part of my regular vocabulary when I was 7/8 years old... then as I grew up it disappeared somewhere...there were no more Powercuts (also as I grew up I started calling Loadsheddings 'Powercuts'... coz i thought, that was stylish...)

However much my grandmom used to be bugged by it... to be honest Loadsheddings were quite a respite...being brought up by health concious (bengali) parents meant no studies during Loadsheddings coz the flickering of the candle could damage my eyesight... howmuchever it meant that the bid sized mosquitoes of south Calcutta might sting(!!) me.. there was a romanticism about the Loadsheddings...The few obvious things it meant to me and whihc are still in my distinct recollection are:

(i) My granddad would call the CESC if electricity does not come back within 1 hour thinking it is yet another cable fault (if not a burst transformer) ... thereafter on completion of that task would take long strides along the lane at one end of which our house was situated...all other old people would assemble below the lamp post and exchange news(!!)...I have not seen many matching my grand fathers poise...He used to say thats coz he has blue blood flowing through his veins :)

(ii) my grandmom would sit in the seat created in our balcony for adda's with her set of friends and would also cut some vegetable

(iii) my mom and dad(is my dad was home by then) standing in the 1st floor balcony chattig away to glory

(iv) my aunt would be pestering my cousin brother(who used to come first in class) to study (not bothering much about his eyes) and in turn asking me and my sister as well to engage in the noble deed

it would always be a whole lot of varied activities going on in the pretext of not doing the regular chores because there is Loadshedding :)

what is most remembered by me today is there was no sounds of TV's no music...no serials.. no chitrahaar's... no news ...happenning during that time ... as if there was some melody in the silence... some comfort in the heat without fans.. some romance in the breeze which blew suddenly during the Loadshedding

Now there are no more Laodsheddings in Kolkata and even if there are they are quite well taken care of by the Invertors... so with time .. technology has caught up to give us uninterrupted (Mega) serials ... 12 news channels...MTv's and V channel which show film music all the time.. but what it has taken away is the peace of human mind the romance of Laodsheddinsg and the romance in the Breeze...

Dont know what it has taken away from u.. but from me it has taken away my capacity to roll out in laughter in nothing... as a child no one could undertsand why i laugh all the time... I think i used to be happy all the time... theres a comfort in living with your parents living of your parents and living under your parents...

even now i carry a smile most times... but thats often coz i have read in innumerable books that a human should maintain a positive attitude..... as my father put it sometime ago.. he thinks i am running against my nature....

In fact i am trying to reinvent the laughters...

Today while I was sitting at office there was LAODSHEDDING...usually it is followed in seconds by the roar of the generator which lits the entire office in seconds...

but today it refused to get started... there was peace once again and there were memories rushing past...

Though i often think like many others I do not have the pleasure of memories but today... I could infact in those few minutes see myself peeping from the gate and could see my grandfather taking long strides in that narrow lane

For all bhombol kaku's and papu kaka's

I have a bhombol kaku... a papu kaka... a chumki pishi ... a bunty didi... a buchkun dada ... a manadada ... a bapi kaka ... a ruby pishi ... a shoma pishi ... a bubu dada ... a rintu kaku... a piklu dada ... a tukun jethu ... a tatu dada ...

This list is a product of a faint recollection at quarter to ten at night on a working day...... sure I could name zillions more who i know...

I got this as a forward from the "bunty didi" ... so i share it ... may be to share her agony of being bunty for all times to come!

___

Dedicated to all the sons and daughters of Bengal, including Buba,Bapi, Babuli,Chumki, Jonaki, Jhumpa, Kakuli, Lali, Ruby, Shoma,Sharmistha...This post is part of an ongoing series. In these pages, Iwill attempt to alert people to a great injustice that is beingperpetrated upon the sons of Bengal. So you thought they were wimpy tobegin with. Far from it, my friend. Their current state is a result ofyears of conditioning by the oppressors - namely the women. By using avariety of psychological weapons, they have reduced these fine men towhat you see today. Today we focus on the first weapon in their hands- the NICK-NAME.When a son is born into a Bengali household, he is gifted with aresonant sonorous name. Bengali names are wonderful things.They conveymajesty and power. A man with a name like Prasenjit, Arunabha orSukanta is a man who will walk with his head held high, knowing thatthe world expects great deeds from him, which was why they bestowedthe title that is his name upon him.But it simply will not do forthese men to get ahead of themselves. Their swelling confidence needsto be shattered. How can one go about it? This task is left to themothers of these lads and is accomplished by the simple act ofreferring to the boy, not by his fine-sounding real name, but by anickname which Shakti Kapoor would be ashamed to answer toThere are some rules for creating nicknames, which need to be followedThey are1. Nicknames must have no connection to the real name. Arunabha cannotcalled Arun No, for that would be logical, and such things areanathema in the world of women. Instead he shall be called Bhombol Ifpossible the nickname and real name must have no letters in common,but an ancient alphabet proves to be the constraining factor there2. Nicknames must be humiliating. If you are a tall strapping boy,with a ;flair for soccer, an easy charm and an endearing personality,then you shall be nicknamed - Bhondu Bittu, Nontu... And every time,you have set your sights on a girl, and are on the verge of having theaforementioned lass eat out of your hand - your mother will arrive and pronounce loudly Nontu Bairey eso. The ensuing sea of giggles willdrown out whatever confidence you had earned from that last winningfree-kick3. A nickname must refer in some way to a suitably embarrassingincident in your childhood that you would give your arm and leg toforget. If it took you a little too long to shed your baby fat, thenyears of gymming will not gt;rid you of the nomenclature - Motka Ifyour face turned crimson when you gt;cried as a toddler, you will becalled Laltu or even Tutul When you turn 40, your friends' childrenwill call you ;Laltu Kaku Even age will not earn you the right to betaken seriously thereafter4. Different members of the family will make up different nicknames -each more embarrassing than the preceding one. If one member of thefamily calls you Piklu, then another will call you Mitul, and anotherwill call you Chaadu. The humiliation multiplies5. You will always be introduced by your nickname, until people forgetyou had a Real Name Ranajoy might have taken on a gang of armed mensingle-handedly, but Toton ;really didn't have a chance. After a pointToton will completely take over the beaten body of Ranajoy, weigheddown by the pressure of a thousand taunts;6. This strategy is surprisingly effective. Ask yourself - would youtake Professor 'Rintu'seriously? Or put much weight by the opinion ofDr 'Bubai'? Or march into battle under the command of General 'Thobla'7. The power of the nickname has scarred the psyche of Bengali men;everywhere. It follows them like a monkey on their backs. That too, a;monkey with a flair for slapstick, that was gifted to them by theirown mothers That, dear Bong friends, is Step No.1 of their grand plan.I must leave now before they realize I am telling you all thisStep No.2 of the plan shall be revealed in the next post. Now let memake my escape. But wait! There's no way we can let you go now -you've seen too much. Not before you answer the questionTomar daaknaam ki,Khoka The crowd waits with bated breath in anticipation of thegreat warrior being hoisted by his own petard. They lick their chopshungrily. But tonight is not their night. He stands tall and straightand a smug smile plays on his lips. From his lips come the wordsMazhi aai Bangali nahee my mother is not a Bengali) And he survivesto fight another day

Bouncing Thoughts!

An important measure ...

"I don't measure a man's success by how high he climbs but how high he bounces when he hits bottom." -- George S. Patton (US Army General in Worl War II)

Honey and Money!

Working at a lawfirm defintely means hectic weekdays ... but weekends are relaxed (!!) you have things to think about which you have shut your mind out from ... issues to resolve with various people .. which you had ignored since you had no time at wednesday 7 in the evening when you had to finish a document which had to go out that very moment ... but i figured out in six months that weekends are real short .. and since you want to make the most of it so it becomes shorter ... its utter chaos ...

On such a weekend when I was getting angry at nothing ... may be ... i should not say nothing ... I should spill the beans and say that I was quite angry at my state of affairs ... I disclosed to my mom that I was not happy (Now when I look back at the incedent I think that i said all that in my spree to get pampered) ... and that niether anything spiritual nor material makes me happy and that life is quite boring ... after her usual lecture of how today's generation cannot be happy with small things that life has to offer ... she was discussing with me the different things which could make one happy ... and as a mother of a 24 year old she very ably stressed on the fact that association with family (specially marriage) keeps a human being fulfilled and satisfied ... etc.etc. and etc. ... I as usual was on my ride to make her undertsand how marriage for a girl means a whole lot of compromises ... and that it affects career and blah blah ... so then she asked me if i have read 'The Alcheimist' (which to my utter disgust even while possessing it i had not read) ... so i said 'no' ... she then told me a story ... about a particular part of the book with her own additions deletions and alterations to suit the situation ofcourse! (in her own simple way ... in the way she as been unravelling the several complicated things to me thru my life ... making them simple, comprehendible and endorsable) ...

she told me ... once a common man had walked up to the king and commented that since the king had all the wealth of the world he must be the happiest person around ... the king to this did not answer but gave the man a spoon and some honey in the spoon and told him to go and have a look around the palace to find out what all wealth the king had and how happy he was only on one condition that, not a drop of honey should spill ... when the man was back from his sojourn, the king noticed that the spoon was still full of honey and then he asked if the man had seen how happy the king was ... the man retorted he couldnot see anything coz he was looking after the honey in the spoon ... then the king asked him if he was satisfied that he has not spilled any honey ... and the obvious answer was yes ... now that the man had not seen the wealth the king gave hiom another chnage with the honey in the spoon to look around ... this time the king said that the man need not bother about the honey in the spoon... so the man went around and saw all the wealth and came back .... the king asked whether he had seen all the wealth and how much of honey was there ... the man retorted that he had seen all the wealth but when he looked at the spoon to his surprise, he found that there was no honey ... the king then told the man that he would disclose now 'what is happiness' .. and he said when you see all the wealth adn yet have the honey in the spoon that is happiness ...

my mother was very happy to have put across me such a pertinent issue and she mistook my silence over the fone to think (what i guess) is that i was trying to internalise this eternal concept of happiness ... but soon in my mean self i retorted by saying ... 'but ma! dont u think in a human's quest of such happiness the society is happy in making the man to go around and see the wealth and the woman to go around with the man (while he sees all the wealth) looking after the honey in the spoon"!!

okie now she jolted and said ... no my dear world has changed and now the man looks at the wealth half way thru and honey half way thru and the woman looks at the honey half way thru and the wealth half way thru...

sometimes i wonder is it really so!!

Lets go fishing!

I had recieved this as a forward ... dont know where it was generated ... who created this ... whether it is old or new ... but this thought process has reflections in most preachings which have been given to me through my life ... by someone... who did the right things at the right time .. knew always where to call it a day ... did not ever ask for much but got what most would say one has to try hard to get ... and to my mind is one of the happiest and most self contained persons i have seen ... though i donot subscribe to her way of thinking ... she in her wisdom has never forced upon me her ideas ...

This note is not how I look at life ... for me... the leap from a small fishing boat to a bigger fishing boat and then to a fleet of fishing boats is an integral part of a fisherman's life ... and one must move from Mexico city to LA to NYC (may be end up again at Mexico City at the fag end of life) ... the above is not meant to bore one with my thinking ... anyways this is an enjoyable read...

===

An American investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large yellowfin tuna. The American complimented the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them. The fisherman replied, "Only a little while." The American then asked why didn't he stay out longer and catch more fish? The fisherman said he had enough to support his family's immediate needs. The American then asked, "But what do you do with the rest of your time?" The Mexican fisherman said, "I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life." The American scoffed, "I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat. With the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats, eventually you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman, you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA and eventually NYC, where you will run your expanding enterprise." The Mexican fisherman asked, "But, how long will this all take?" To which the American replied, "15-20 years." "But what then?" The American laughed and said, "That's the best part. When the time is right, you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You would make millions." "Millions. Then what?" The American said, "Then you would retire. Move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evenings where you could sip wine and play guitar with your amigos.."

Of Digene, indigestion and Bengalis'

an ode to all those meals when i have overeaten and have been suggested by aunties (who had cooked those lovely meals) that i should top it up with a dose of digene/gelusil/aquaptychotis/carmozyme/carboveg....or any of the list of digestives that bengalis surely stock at home...

This article appeared at Hindustan Times, New Delhi on October 25, 2005

It's no laughing matter. To learn that most of the pills we pop on a regular basis are "irrational, useless or needless" makes one feel rather foolish. The issue really is about how we use harmless pills to dull ourselves into believing that we just administered ourselves a dose of 'good health'. But, to be honest, all that worried me — after I stopped laughing, that is — was whatever are my Bengali friends to do now? Lest this unleashes a wave of indigestion, let me assure readers that there is no offence meant here. But, it must be acknowledged, even if research has yet to prove it, that Bengalis must be thanked for the fortunes raked in by Digene sales. And Gelusil sales for that matter. Agreed that there's nary an urban household in India oblivious to Digene or Liv-52, but the world will agree, honorary Bongs included, that there exists an uncanny link between digestive medicine and Bengalis.
The morning rush hour in most households is a matter of routine. For Bongs, it's almost a ritual; for mothers of little boys, a harassment. I know of quite a few kids hoisted upon the toilet seat and made to sit there until... Little wonder that Bengalis grow up reading so much.
Even as I write this, a non-Bengali colleague (for the world is divided into Bengali and non-Bengali people) chips in with his tale. Married to a Bengali, he was somewhat taken aback when he realised that a criterion to judge whether he, as a guest, was comfortable in a Bengali uncle's home, was to enquire about his visitations to the loo and judge the experience thereafter. For a non-Bong, this parameter can be a bit of a shocker. But as anyone visiting relatives in Calcutta (where meals have no names) will agree, the natural corollary to any post-meal protestation, is, 'There's Digene'. And imagine my amazement at a neighbour postponing his house being white-washed because, hand on stomach, 'it wasn't cleared today'.
Bengalis would, of course, much rather talk about their forefathers in light of their contribution to things like drafting the Constitution, and it is but natural that there is little engagement on their collective weak constitution. But fact of the matter is that a Bengali household, in some degree or the other, is conditioned into making peristalsis, what else, a mass movement.
Many a heart was broken when Helicobacter pylori took all the credit for causing ulcers. Stress, mutton cutlets and 'tele bhaja' could no longer be blamed. But there was succour in the bottles that formed the gastric line-up: Digene, Aqua ptychotis, Carmozyme. What are these men going to do now? It's not even a condition that you develop with age.
It may be interesting for geneticists trying to crack genome intricacies to conduct a survey of this Bengali condition. Does a protein sequence trigger it off? Or, Dr Watson, is it all very alimentary? Maybe they can call the study, 'The Great Bengali Bowel Movement'.