Thursday, December 15, 2011
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
Friday, November 11, 2011
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
I miss him. Truly. Here's why.
Monday, October 24, 2011
I remember I was very small then. Hardly seven, or eight. Dad had gone on a trip to Hyderabad, some office work as usual. For ten whole days. And to me, at that time, it was sheer joy! To live without the stern scrutiny, the impeccable discipline, the freedom to finally be the true brat I was, and not continuously live up to the rumour of being "an obedient kid" was unexpected bliss. Well, everyone in my family expected me to miss him, and I told them I did. Miss him? Oh please, he could stay there another ten days if he wanted. I simply lied to everyone.
My father leaves tomorrow. For home. And the thought of seeing him off disturbs me to an extent I never thought possible. Maybe this is what living in a foreign country, amongst unknown people, with an undecided future, does to you. It gives you perspective. It slaps you where it hurts the most and points a very rude finger to that which is truly important. And maybe you realise you have grown up when you see your parents grow old. I for one, have never shed a tear whenever my parents saw me off. But tomorrow, I am not sure anymore....
But I will smile, and pretend I am okay, and that I can very well manage..... I can still lie.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
I try you know, to be calm, to have my head on my shoulders, to be sensitive to everyone around me and their problems, to not over react, or rather, react at all, to smile benignly when all I want to do is smash your head on the wall, not your, his, and hers, and if you disagree with me, yes, yours too...I try! And well, to the utter dismay of my ego, I think I do it pretty well these days. I smile more, I ignore, I bite my tongue and hold back...oh what has become of me :(
I do it only for one person. I do it for my Father.
Fathers and daughters have a special bond. Ahmmm...really? All I remember of my father as I grew up is a stern man with a thick black moustache, whose entry demanded a thick, cloudy silence, with the eldest and the youngest in the house running for cover. To burn in hell was welcome, but to cross his path on a typical day, not really! All the daughter-y bonding happened with Maa, all whisperings of who said what to whom in school, to be wrapped up before Baba came back home. All phone calls hushed and put under cover. But, secrets were safe with mom, right? Apparently not. As I grew up into...well, me, everything reached his ears. :(. And to his shock and mine, he realised I had turned into him! All my life I tried being my mom, without noticing that I had grown into dad.
It irked me at first, well ofcourse, everything irks me at first...but then I grew up. I met weird people, fell into weirder situations, and as I crawled out of them, I realised Dad's way was the best way! You save your ass, and you kick theirs :) And then, he wrote me a letter. And then, another one. As i rediscovered the man I grew up all my life with, I realised I know no one better than I know him. Ohk, maybe a couple of others...but hurrah! my dad was me :)
If there's anything that makes me proud of who I am, cynical, irritable, rude, hyper, short tempered...this is it. And only this!
Friday, September 23, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
Monday, August 8, 2011
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Monday, July 25, 2011
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Friday, July 22, 2011
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Friday, June 3, 2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Sokal byala osomapto ghum er abdar thele diye class e ashar pokkhe ektai karon ebong setai jotheshto. S.
Protidiner moto aaj o sobar aage class e pouche, janlar thik pasher seat ta-e bag gNuje, she opekkha kore ek size boRo jeans e gNoja, adha botam khola halka neel roNger shirt er upor ek din purono daRi aar na aNchrano jhNakra chul wala mukh ta. hathe dhora pen ta aNgul er fNake kromagoto ghorate ghorate, mukher alto hashir songe taal miliye egiye aste thaka manush ta-r. ei to, class shuru howar aager adh ghonta i ja paona. sara din to aar tiki ta milbena. etai tar sombol, etai tar pNuji. emnitei aar ko mash por college shesh, tar por ke kothay, ke jane...shesh mesh ki tai hobe? canteen e bosha baaki sob golpo gulor motoi???
S ta asche na. dhut bhalo lage na. adh ghonta-r theke pNaach minute uDe gyalo. hath er golper boi ta ke aar opoman na kore she ekebare rastaye chokh lagiyei boshe. gun gun kore hothath i geye othe. nah, eder upor ekdom bhorsha kora chole na. phone e bollo berochche, etokkhon lage jana chilo na baba...ki jyano gaaaner porer line ta? chokh ta firiye ney. cheye thaklei to aar eshe porbe na...
"shayad fir is janam mein, mulakaat ho na ho..lag jaa gale...se...."
Ei din er por teen bochor periye gyache. dyakha aar hoyni. suneche Chennai er kon college e MBA korche. bole to chilo, aar jai koruk, management korbe na. boshsho she to aro koto kothai bolechilo, tai na? USA jabe, ki sob course korbe, tar por chakri peye, take o niye...jak ge, bad dao osob kotha. she sob theke miss kore canteen ta, jekhane tader moto aro jona doshek table e tader motoi coffee-r cup ke chumuk dite dite, thik tader motoi, sobai bhabto, tarao alada. canteen er thik pechone ekta pachil chilo. uthte parle, bohuduur dyakha jeto. fNaka math, ekta chotto gram, boye jaoa shanto nodii. tar mone hoto byasto doinondin jibone-r majhkhane, tar bhalobasha ta eirokom i...sposhto, kintu shitol. subidhebadi, mitthyechari jogoter theke bichchinno, ekta chotto nirob, ghumiye thaka gram. sobai pachil er upor theke dyakhe, kintu pouchote pare na.
shopnorajyo kodin aar thake? bairer jogot sudhu pouchoy-i ni, ekebare dhoNgsho kore diyeche. she eka eka dNariye dekheche tar sob sMriti -r jolte thaka hahakar, sob biswash er puRte thaka kolorob...ki awaj, ki dhakka !!! Dhakka?
"Ei, kire..oth...eshe gechi to"
"Eto deri korli kyano?"
"Are, omelete khacchilam. jani late hobe, tui kyalabi, but omelete ki aar roj dey, bol?"
Jodi bojhar hoto, she sedin i bujhe jeto.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Biryani or Fuchka- Fuchka. Thrice a day.
Asha or Lata- Lata
Holmes or Feluda- Byomkesh :)
Dylan or Chandril- Chandril. yes, I am culturally backward like that.
So you see, my life is pretty much demarcated with very strong likes and dislikes, with a few overlaps. But they are rare, quite rare. The only goddamn time I face an identity crisis is when people, who dont know anything about me, or well, maybe trying to know a bit of me, asks...
"Bombay or Calcutta"- I DONT KNOW !!!!!
Aami ekkebare pasher baRi-r meye ta. tomar rannaghore koDai te mach bhaja-r dhNoya ta obogga kore ektu uNki mere dyakho, dekhbe ami shoto shoto awaj ke buRo angul dekhiye, anondomyala poRchi. Chotka-r "Boudiii, amar pajama ta ki abar kachte diyechen?" theke Dadu-r radio "ajker bishesh bishesh khobor holo" theke Baba-r "Ki go, chaa holo?" theke pasher baRir Tinni-r mayer, kajer meyer shonge nittonoimitto jhogRa theke Dr. Ghosh er clinic er pashe telebhajar chYaNk! theke tank er theke kolkol kore jol bheshe jaoa theke, adho ondhokare jhNi jhNi pokar daak theke, bNaash bone sheyal er huNkar (huNkar thik noy, but oi ondhokare jokhon keu kothao nei aar loadshedding hoyeche, tokhon bhoy na pele kaan kete fele debo) theke, moshari shoto bhalo kore gNoja shotteo moshar binbin binbin hashi thele, duuur theke bheshe asha chitrahar er dui sumodhur koli theke, raat dupure "Chor , Chor ke kothay achish siggiri lathi niye aaye" theke, saat sokale kagoj bili kora kaku-r cycle er ting ting theke school bus e hero der naam ke kota mukhosto bolte pare theke, off period e kanakani, fishfish theke, dupure Maa ghumole churi kore achar khaoa theke, paati ice cream ala-r thik kyamon mone nei, kintu oti prio ekta bajna theke, L238 bus e conductor er "Manicktola, B-Garden" chitkar theke, Belur Moth er shanto nistobdota theke, Tumpa aar Riju-r khunsuti bhora goromer chuti theke, Asche Bochor Abar Hobe-r kanna paoa bidaay theke, Howrah station e kuli, aar Howrah bridge er tolay bheshe jaoa bashi ful er hahakar theke, Suman er "Gaanwala" theke robibaar er niyomkore kosha maNgsho theke "Ei janish, Baba-r Bombay transfer hoye gyache" porjonto....thik kore dyakho, ami ekhono janlar pashe boshe anondomyala pore jachci. poRei jachchi.
But tell me? do you know what fun it is to ride an open horse, drip your entire shirt with brown gola juice, eat bhelpuri untill your eyes water with tanginess, and just sit still on the beach and watch the sun go down. And know, that the day has just started. Do you know the entire point of going to tution was to have the vada pav, kaanda daal ke from Jumbo King, (and to ogle at ahem ahem of course)? No you dont. It comes with practice. You get up at 6, yes bleeeedy 6, in the morning, but no regrets haan, cos you know, ahem ahem awaits you the class, and if you are lucky, maybe in Santacruz station only. But all is secondary to the radio wala auto. thats the way a din should start. A bumpy ride to the station, with bollywood for company. With this anticipation you sway from the train, bilkul dhinchak style, hair flying, bag hanging, never minding that by the time you get down you are looking like a bhoot. No wonder such bad lucks with all ahems. Then you rush to the lovely school, the mandatory college, more gossip, more fun, more dhoom dhamaka. All you have to do in stand and stare. The busy ness will get to you and infect you so bad youwill never have a silent bone in your body hence. The traffic, the lights in the shops, the ever chirping buddha buddhis in the nana nani park, the falling, geting up, again falling children, hell, even the doctors clinic seems like a mela. "accha yaha ka thepla jyada accha hai? nahi nahi, you should go to Big Bazaar, sale chalu aahet !",the random filmstar sightings, the hawwwww when you realise the bhaiyya-didi next door are living in and are not married, the Morya Re sung with such passion you feel you were a marathi all your life, the mouth hanging, eyes popping diwali crackers, the kaju katlis, the floods, the size zero obsession, the ye pakka Dubai se laya hai maals, the stern eyes of the naval guards, the rich and the famous going jogging, the waves lapping at their feet, and taking it all away with just one freaking bomb. Life is indeed like the ride at chowpatty.
"ek heech jagah par gol gol ghumta hai, par har baar sala kuch naye rang dikhata hai"
Tell me, konta ke choose korbo? Choose kora ki jaye. Duto durokom bhabe amake toiri koreche. Dutoi aami. e pith aar o pith. actually, du pith ei dutoi ache, mile mishe ekakar. aar to alada kore kichui bachar nei. kono option i nei. thakte pare na.
Oh, and yes, I absolutely will forever refuse to call them Mumbai or Kolkata. the authorities can hang themselves from Dwitio Hoogly Setu or Bandra-Worli Sealink, like I care !!!
Monday, April 25, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Saturday, March 12, 2011
1. Kuch Naa Kaho- Do I need to justify this? Kumar Sanu at his best. It had everything. From R.D Burman,to the flowing white dress, to pearls, to colourful clouds, to a swing..man!! Its symbolic as to why love stories these days fail...we just talk too much. The solution is to just shut up and sing. And of course, pearls :)
2. Chu Kar Mere Mann ko- This is what mature love stories are made of. Just a piano. And a slight content smile. On second thoughts, I think I have a serious outdoor problem. Notice how my songs are all indoors with very little props. hmmm...
3. Tujhe Dekha To Yeh- Yayy!! I am onto the sarso ka khets now. This song is an anthem. Atleast for my generations.There was a time when any guy who could play this on guitar would be cool. No? Oh, well...for me atleast. There was something about SRK-Kajol. There still is. I will even tolerate Karan Johar if he re-creates this.
4. Yeh Raatein Yeh Mausam- Kishore Kumar. Nutan. Black and White. I can sing this song even when there is no nadi ka kinara and no chanchal hawa... I love it. Aha...inspite of the stabbing heartaches, it makes me want to feel the glory of love. Again and again. "Mohabbat jawan ho, khula aasman ho, kare koi dil aarzu aur kya?" Hai na??
5. Pehla Nasha- Ting ting ting ting, tiri ring ting ting ting.. :) Such cuteness. and Aamir Khan. Its no wonder then, everytime i have a crush, I sing it in my mind, and convince myself, that this indeed is the pehla time. what happened before was rubbish.The confidence, the optimism, the de-coding of every word, every touch... Oh, when will my serious pehla pehla time come???? and I hate that girl in red. Bitch.
6. O Hansini- Ranbir Kapoor's dad is way cuter than him.Even in a funny shirt and a weird moustache. It has a guy chasing girl feel to it. Which is rare nowadays no? Call me conservative, but some things should be old world. It also gently reminds you, sabr ka phal....meetha hai ya namkeen, baad mein batana :P.
7. Rimjhim Gire Saawan- Come on, I had to include a rain song. In Bombay. On Marine Drive. I personally need no more reason to love the song, but Lata Mangeshkar, and of course, the height difference of the couple make it even lovelier. And never after this, have sulagna of the mann been portrayed so innocently.
8. Tu Hi Re- Romantic? Sad? What difference? Proof that a heroine,all covered, and a hero, pot bellied, can also sell a movie. No one sings like this anymore. But then, no one feels too. I love you Rehman.
9. Do Dil Mil Rahe Hai- There was time before youtube. It was called FM Radio. Every time this song was aired, i would abandon everything else at hand. aivai...no reason. The one song that has never ever been deleted from my playlist. It will never be. Because most of my love stories begin and end at this stage. chupke chupke. Sigh!
10. Tere Mere Sapne- I hate Dev Anand. I dont really like Md. Rafi. But the promise of togertherness in the song makes up for it. tere dukh ab mere, mere sukh ab tere... damn it. I am hopeless. But i sereously wanna give Mr. Anand a haircut. Ugh.
11. Tumse Milke, Aisa Laga Tumse Milke- If you point a gun at my head, and ask me to sing, this it what will come out. I sing it randomly, in the shower, during exams, while cooking. What a simple declaration of feelings. All the guys who have a problem with expressing their so called emotions, should take a bath and learn this by heart. Jerks.
12. Ek Dooje Ke Waste- A lesser known song of Dil To Pagal Hai. I thought the song was bullshit, untill a friend, who knows the romantic in me, pestered me into hearing it, on a trip to Hyderabad. All because she was in love. Or so we thought. She moved on to other guys, but left me the song. Thanks :)
13. Ab Naa Jaa- Euphoria. Palash Sen. Dr. Palash Sen. I was 16 when this song came out. And i remember writing down the lyrics at the back of my organic chemstry notebook, and learning it by heart on my way home. . I still remember the song. Obviously, I remember nothing of organic chemistry.Hihihi...Have encountered numerous ocassions when i could have sung it. I did not.
14. Awaaz Do Humko- Who would think of Sanjay Dutt and Romance in the same vein if not for this song eh? The urgency is infectious. I.Have.To.Do.Something. Abhi. Nahi to Kabhi Nahi.
15. Ae, Kya Bolti Tu?- Who says romance has to be delicate? and white and flowers. Blah. It is also for the bravehearted who can conjure up a date just like that, in a song. And imagine the guts that takes to call the girl you wanna woo, as "Aeee...Kya Bolti Tu?" I would probably answer," Paka Mat, Rascal". But then, not everyone is Miss Mukherji. :)