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 !!!