Du:shwopno

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.

its not Mother's Day

So its been what, about ten days since Mother's Day? What fun we had no? With all lovey dovey status messages for the mothers, who are not even on facebook, and for the ones who are, must have been shell shocked at seeing "I love you mom" rather than "its raining today, must have rub it in your face pakodas" or say "I hate my life, will someone cry with me and kiss my ass" or even better "I broke up with my girl friend and she cried, oh i am so cool" wala statuses. Don't laugh, even you had put that picture with your mother in it...ok ok, so had I.

But then again, they are mothers, they will probably go gaga with delight if we as much look at them and smile. No, they do not know the smile is actually because you are recalling the phone conversation that happened last night, or wait, maybe they do. Maybe they are just happy that in todays suicidal zamana, their kids are smiling. What blessings from above !

The worst however, is that we know. We know how less it takes for us to make the woman who loves us the most, truly, sincerely happy. You can have pimples on your face, you can wear mismatched socks, you can smell like a pig, you can shave off your hair.... rest assured there is one, one face that will always search for you in a crowd, always think of you in her busiest moments, always worry about you even when you are fifty. Heck, I think even Bill Gates's mom asks him what he had for dinner every night. If he picks up the phone, that is.

I dont have a bloody choice. My mother calls me, hmm... at least thrice a day. And of course, because I know when the next call is going to be, I am rude, insensitive, always busy, irritable... knowing that "arre maa hi to hai, where will she go? she will call only no..". My friends often ask me how is it that I talk to my mother the way I do? Well, I dont know. I take her very much for granted, and I think she has made her peace with that. And I guess, she takes a quiet pride in knowing that all my day's frustrations are seen and heard only by her. You know, special treatment.

My mother is my best friend (oh well!), my living closet of secrets, my conscience, my one and only shade under the sun, my only caller whose phone I can bang down with confidence and not worry about it, because it rings right back :), the only one whose lies I believe in, the only source of hope when the world gets too real, the only person I am scared of, because, one, she can see right through skype's bad bad video connection, and two, because she thinks i am a good girl, and who would want to break that trust, no?

But I hate you Maa. Because you make me want to be like you. And that is not easily happening.

Split Into One

Science or Literature- Literature.
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 !!!