Potterology

I miss him. Truly. Here's why.

'What's that? Said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Harry's lightning scar. 'Blimey,' said the other twin. 'Are you –?' 'He is,' said the first twin. 'Aren't' you?' he added to Harry. 'What?' said Harry. 'Harry Potter,' chorused the twins. 'Oh, him,' said Harry, 'I mean, yes, I am.'

"Ron," said Hermione in a dignified voice, dipping the point of her quill into her ink pot, "you are the most insensitive wart I have ever had the misfortune to meet."

"I don’t deny it," Sirius said very quietly. "But if you knew the whole story."

"I'm not trying to be a hero, but seriously, Sirius Black can't be worse than Voldemort, can he?"

"It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that."

"Unless I'm much mistaken, he transferred some of his own powers to you the night he gave you that scar. Not something he intended to do, I'm sure....

"The truth is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution."

I wonder,' said Professor McGonagall in cold fury, turning on Professor Umbridge, 'how you expect to gain an idea of my usual teaching methods if you continue to interrupt me? You see, I do not generally permit people to talk when I am talking.'

"After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

"To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever."

"Well?" said Ron finally, looking up at Harry. "How was it?" Harry considered for a moment."Wet," he said truthfully.

"The consequences of our actions are always so complicated, so diverse, that predicting the future is a very difficult business in deed ...."

"Neville, I'm really, really sorry about this." She raised her wand. "Petrificus Totalus!"

Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain.

"No good sittin' worryin' abou' it," he said. "What's comin' will come, an' we'll meet it when it does."

"It is our choices Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities."

"You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us?"

"I don't want to talk about how I feel, all right?" "Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human --" "THEN -- I -- DON'T -- WANT -- TO -- BE -- HUMAN!" Harry roared.

Ron said, "One person can't feel all that at once, they'd explode." "Just because you've got the emotional range of a teaspoon doesn't mean we all have," said Hermione nastily, picking up her quill again.

Weasley can save anything, He never leaves a single ring, That's why Gryffindors all sing:Weasley is our King.

'Is it true that you shouted at Professor Umbridge?' 'Yes,' said Harry. 'You called her a liar?''Yes.' 'You told her He Who Must Not Be Named is back?' 'Yes.' Professor McGonagall sat down behind her desk, frowning at Harry. Then she said, 'Have a biscuit, Potter.'

It is a curious thing, Harry, but perhaps those who are best suited to power are those who have never sought it.

"I cared about you too much," said Dumbledore simply. "I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act."

"Potter, you've got yourself a girlfriend!" drawled Malfoy. Ginny went scarlet...

"Voldemort has always underestimated the power of love Harry, you on the other hand..."

"Just because it’s taken you three years to notice, Ron, doesn’t mean no one else has spotted I’m a girl!"

Sirius shook his head and said, "If you want to know what a man's like, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals."

"They were bullyin' him, Hermione, 'cause he's so small!" said Hagrid. "Small?" said Hermione."Small?" "Hermione, I couldn't leave him," said Hagrid, tears now trickling down his bruised face into his beard. "See -- he's my brother!"

"What made you think he'd really stopped supporting Voldemort, Professor?" Dumbledore held Harry's gaze for a few seconds, and then said, "That, Harry, is a matter between Professor Snape and myself."

"After all this years, Snape?"......"Always!"

'"Evil" is a strong word,' said Hermione quietly.

'There are all kinds of courage,' said Dumbledore, smiling. 'It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr Neville Longbottom.'

Harry and Ron both made furious moves toward Malfoy, but Hermione got there first -- SMACK! She had slapped Malfoy across the face with all the strength she could muster.

What do we want to be Prefects for?' said George, looking revolted at the very idea. 'It'd take all the fun out of life.'

"You should write a book," Ron told Hermione as he cut up his potatoes, "translating mad things girls do so boys can understand them."

"Detention, Saturday night, my office," said Snape. "I do not take cheek from anyone, Potter . . . not even 'the Chosen One.'"

Marauder's Map to Snape: "Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a professor."

"Severus Snape wasn't yours," said Harry. "Snape was Dumbledores, Dumbledores from the moment you started hunting down my mother..."

"We will see each other again," he said. "You are -- truly your father’s son, Harry...."

"Books! And cleverness! There are more important things -- friendship and bravery."

"Dobby has heard of your greatness, sir, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew..."

Is this real? Or has this been happening inside my head?

Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean it is not real?

Take a bow Ms. Rowling. For teaching the last of us the power of love and friendship, to overlook handicaps, and to never underestimate the weak. And oh, most importantly, as wise it maybe for a girl to be intelligent, it always helps if she removes her braces ! :) :P

Growing Up

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.

Who knew?

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.

Didibhai

Jokhon ami choto chilam, tokhon chotobyala ta i onnyo rokom chilo. Wii chilo na, video game er remote niye kaRakaRi chilo na, iPhone e app download kora niye mathabyatha chilo na, facebook e ke kar pechone bNash dilo, ta niye jolpona chilo na. tokhon chilo janla-r grill e mukh rekhe brishti khaoa, pNipRe gulo exactly kothar theke kothae jachche, sei rohoshyo bhed kora, Baba-r bajaar theke ana jilipi gulo lukiye lukiye sabaR kora, chaat e bolta-r chaak bhaNgar durdhorsho obhigyota school e ektu baRiye bola, math e lukochuri khelte khelte eksomoy sottyi hariye jaoa, stage e uthe duruduru bNuke prothom gaan gaoa, Dadu-ke ghush diye gujiya anano, aar Maa-r saree-r odbhut ghemo gondho ta diye nijeke sobar theke bNachiye rakha...

aar chilo didibhai. amar cheye matro 4 mash boRo, tobu take ekdin Tumpa bolate she obhimaan kore bolechilo, "Bonu, tui aar amake bhalobashish na, tai na?" :) jai hok, onek boRo byala porjonto she i chilo amar ekmatro khyalar sathi. bagan theke boRo boRo pata beche niye asha, putul er biye deoa, mach ta khabona bole or paat e chalan kore deoa, saree poRa sekha, scale diye pitiye pitiye bichana balish ke o baddhwo chatro banano, cheleder prothombar onnyo chokhe dyakha theke tader kii kore shayesta kora jaye...sob khyala i tar sathe.

she dheere dheere boRo hoyeche. bodleche. amar songe songei. she tar moton hoyeche, ami amar moton. kintu somporko ta thik chotobyalatei roye gyache. o brishti te bhije 7 baar "Kaho Naa Pyaar Hai" dekhte gyache, masher por mash roga howar jonno muRi kheye katiyeche, teen te cheler kontake "hNya" bola jete pare, tai niye raat bhor amar songe bedom discussion chaliyeche, bus er conductor take ki sundor dekhte aar she hero hole kotoi na bhalo hoto, just seta bolar jonno ISD koreche, ojana ek chele-r dukhkho dekhe nijer sona-r chain, baRite lukiye bikri kore diyeche, ice cream khete khete biyer somoy kon bag ta kinle sobtheke beshi gift bhora jabe, tai niye chulochuli koreche, amar Maa ke pray amar moton i bhalobesheche.

take bhalobashar karon oporishim, kintu sei karongulo chaRa o ami take bhalobashi!

kichudin pore tar biye. amar didi ta kyamon thakbe, kothaye jabe, kar songe kii bhabe thakbe, hoyto ami janbo, kintu tar mon-er ogunti bhabna, bhoy, proshno ki ekhoner moton i amar kache bina dwidha e pNouchate parbe? ke jane? khobor ta shonar por theke ami take phone o korini, kichu boli o ni. she raag korechilo. obviously. kintu kii bolbo? je amar chotobyala r ekmatro shathi aaj hothath boRo hoye jachche? je hoyto soNgsar er niyom e tar aar amar akash jhot kore bodle jabe? je she amader chaRa aaro ekta baRi-r meye hoye jabe kichudin por? parbe? o to ekhono amar i moton choto :(

didibhai re, amar ekhon thekei kanna pachche je...khub bhalo thakis!

A memory

It was a very crucial day. Our standard eighth results were going to be declared. But more than that, we would find out if our friends remained with us in the same class. "Shuffling" was, back then, the most feared word. Indrani calls me up, and sweet that she is, proceeds to tell me in her sing song voice.." You know whaaaat, aaaal the classes have been maintained, only section E has been shuffled". There, that moment, that was it.

Section E was very different. Very important. Very hep. It was a hybrid between the first boy and the naughtiest. It had the coolest class teacher. It had my then raging crush. But more importantly, it had DV. We had fought with teachers to let us sit together, we had gossip sessions every thursday afternoon after school, on the terrace attic, where weekly post mortem would be made of every word said, every look exchanged, every feeling felt....as if talking through every damn period, five days a week was not enough.

DV was my best friend then. In some unknown, intutioned way, she was the only one in school who always got what i said, and more importantly, what i did not. She understood my erratic mood swings, my continuous bad temper, my irritably faulty logic, my anal desire to be "always right"...and accepted me the way I am. But thats not the reason I loved her. I did, because I did. Simple. I hated that she was obsessed about her hair, that she was too girlish at times, that she always had to argue and put me in my place, but being her friend came so naturally ....we were the two most different individuals there ever could be, but there you go...

And so, being separated from her was unthinkable. Hell, if she came late for assembly, I would freak out, forget not being in the same class for a year !! We even considered mollifying the Principal, that if she wanted good results, she should definitely consider putting us back where we belonged. But this was in 2002, and a lot has happened since then...

Times change. People change even faster. I hardly talk to her once a month now. But think of her, I do. Very very often. Whenever I run into probable troubles with the other, more prominent parts of my life. And with me, thats not very rare :) But most interestingly, whenever I meet her, I feel not a day has lapsed. That we are back again, she still as passionate about whatever she is passionate about, me, still wondering what exactly it is that I am passionate about...

A lot has changed. But after a decade, we are, in a very weirdly, far away, twisted way, still the same. Love you leech ;)

Dadu

Why is it that you miss some people,when they have long ceased to be a part of your life, and the moment you think you are oblivious to their absence, they rip right through your memory and stare at you in the face? Why?

I miss the stench of oil that surrounded him, the blackish lines in his teeth that marred an otherwise sweet smile, the innumerous stories of the Sunderbans, the back brushed hair that even at 85, had much much more black, than grey, the sweets stolen from Maa's kitchen that we would share in stealth, the lengthy discussions on Ganguly, the dancing to ek, do, teen, when no one was around, watching cheap, ridiculous bengali movies just for the laughs...oh we had a lot of fun. The absence of a sibling never mattered.

But most of all, I miss the consolation. Of being accepted the way I am.

I am sick and tired and mind numbingly frustrated with having to deal with two facedness and pretence and not understanding what I should say, how I should say it, who I should say it too. The hypocrisy of the last few months are turning me into the cynic I don't want to be. I want to shut myself in a room and not breathe a word to anyone for the fear of being misread. Argh !!!

I miss being a child. The simplicity and the innocence. Where what you saw was, was. Today, we have a lot of choices. And the calculation of what to choose is killing the fun in life. There is too much importance of what who will feel, how they will react, what they will say when you turn away. What is the bloody point in having a friend, when you cannot show them your faults?

Adulthood, to hell with you. I dont give a rat's ass.

Come back, Dadu. Please.

Aamin

Aamin Mondal (as i later knew his name was) : Didi, didi, money money, please, money...

Me : What? money? why?

AM: I kept your shoe safe, see here it is.

Apparently, he had saved me from lurking thieves who would like nothing better than to steal my shoe. For all of you who have seen the pair, it would be a good thing for me to have it stolen so I would finally get a new one. But that was not to be, as Aamin had kept it tucked safely between his legs. His intention however, was far from innocent. He used his cute facednes as a ploy to usurp money from others who visited the temple. I was another such victim.

Months of living in a country where such hardship lathered cuteness is hard to find, have however, taught me to look behind the obvious. I looked at his oversized blue jacket, probably the only one to survive the Kolkata cold, in the pavements below the bridge. Alone. With his group of friends. All now bickering for the ten Rupees note in AM's hands.

Me: Oye, you are all supposed to share this..

AM: ohhh...if you are so concerned, why dont you give me more eh?

Me: yeah right, then tomorrow I will have to ask you for money.

AM: Say what? give me that song thing you have ( referring to the pink mp3 in my hand, so guys like pink...hmmmm)

Me: you wont even know half the songs in here..

AM: O madam, even I know englis.

Me: Acchha?? you go to school?

AM: you dont believe me? come come, ill show my school to you...

Me: all of you go there?

AM's friend (female, very sweet, will grow up to be a killer): arre dont listen to him, he will take your money and eat gutkha...

Me: you dont like gutkha? or do you?

AM's friend : we all love it. even he. (pointing at the smallest kid in the group, who now smiles guiltily)

Me : but thats not good is it?

AM: Didi, nothing in our life is. You just give me another ten bucks and go. Go home.

Me : ........

There are very few instances in life where I dont talk back. There are even fewer people who can render me speechless. For this reason alone, if not for anything else, that I will always remember AM. Probably go back to the temple again, to talk to AM again, to partake in their stained lives, to feel oh i am so cool, i can talk to roadside kids without any hesitation, to feel the small glitch in my heart when the helplessness hits me and I realise how lucky I am to have a home.

As of now, I can do nothing. Except for write a blog.

3/25

ko din age, professor amake ek taRa khata dilen. MCQ, matro 25 ta. ami sobai ke shuni kannakaati kore, "aar bolish na, khata dekhte hobe", amar to sottyi bolte ki, besh laglo. jodio amio maa ke phone e bolechi, "tumi aar ki bujhbe, etto khata dekhte hocche", moner kothaye jyano ekta odbhut bhalolaga, aha...ami kotoi na boRo hoye gechi.

chotobyalaye, amar ek dida ke dekhtam khata dekhte, tarpor dhoro school er madam ra, tader proti shei boyoshe ekta sundor bhalobasha thake, tara jai bolen tai thik, tader khushi korte parle (baaki class ke chotiye), mone hoy akashe bheshe bheshe byaRacchi...she byapaar i alada. tai, tara shei somoye ja korten, ami ajke shetai korchi, bhablei monta besh projapoti projapoti, balloon balloon, hoye othe. bojhate bolo na.

jai hok, mukh gombhiir kore, jama-r hatha gutiye, ekhane sekhane tick, cross korchi....emni somoy kheyal holo, thik bhalo nombor temon keu pachchena. mote ekta 22, beshirbhaag i 14-15, ekta abar 3.


prothome besh uttejiito hoye poRlam. shei class nine e ShouNok ke 1 nombor beshi deoa, tarpor aRshola-r life cycle na bolte parar jonno daR koriye rakha, ber korchi. besh emon koyekta shuddho bangla shobdo mathaye gurchilo, jader ekhane probesh nishedh.

edesh e ki niyom ami janina. baRir lokera khata dekhte chaye kina tao janina. 3/25 dekhe ki bolbe? "dont cry baby, momma is gonna make everything alright" bolbe, naki, baccha-r mon kharap ghNuchate ekta choto khato theme party i diye felbe?

ami ki kortam? khata ta lukiye rakhtam. buk dur dur kore baRi firtam, fire shoooob boi khata-r niche, otake gNuje ditam. tarpor jedin obhibabok er shoi kore dyakhanor shesh din, tar aager din otake chupi chupi ber kortam. kii bhoyanko piece ami chotobyalar thekei, hyan?

mukh chuun kore prothome maa ke dyakhatam. maa bolto, oi ek i dialogue, sharata school/college jibon... "ei nombor peyechish?, shob to perechili bolli, ki holo? baki ra ki peyeche? " eituku peRiye jete parle, dupur byala plus bikel byala shaanti. shedin khelte jaoa bosshyo pondo. raat-e baba ke face korar pala. ami chirokaal i bNete, bujhle? baba baRi fireche, bel bajacche, ma jachche dorja-r dike...aar amar uchchota kromosho hRash pacche. ei korei aar baRini. tarpor aarki, hath pa thanda hoye jaoa, kaan toktoke laal, payer nokh er dike thNyae cheye thaka, mukhe saat choRe raa na kata, hothath bhyak kore kNede fyala, mukh e kichu konomote gNujhe shue poRa. byas.

Nischinti....gota ek soptah-er jonno.

ei bhibishika moy sondhya gulor kotha bhebei hok, ba jai hok, hothath amar mon-er balloon shob chupshe gyalo. aha re, na hoy poRei ni, na hoy tv i dekheche, na hoy icche kore ni boi khulte, sottyi to, Darwin koto shaal e, kon boi er kon pata e kii likheche, jene ami i ba ki ulte dichchi?? thak na ora, oder violent games, rash driving, saturday nights, Wii, size zero aar fata cheRa jama kapoR er duniya tei. ek din to berotei hobe.

hath pa thanda hoyar din sobar emnii ashe...take deke deke anar to kono mane hoy na bolo?

aar shob cheye bhoy er kotha, amar baRite je khata dyakhanor din ekhono shesh hoyni.

haar-jeet

choto boyeshe manush ke onek kichui shekhano sohoj. bhul bhal ja ta ekta kichu bole dilei holo. amar moto hada gongaram hole, tota pakhi-r moto bina dwidhaye shob gule khabe. ja ja gul ami chotobyala te mene niyechilam, tar moddhyey jwolonto udaharoN hocche "manush er sobsomoy bhalo korbe, keu kichu chaile hashimukhe sahajjo korbe, bipode phele ashbe na" ityadi probhriti....

besh. manlam. kintu mukh buje kichu hojom korle je kii poriNoti hoy, sheita ebar okkhore okkhore bujhte parchi.

amar college er bondhu-r dol kal Niagara dekhte jabe. tara prakiritik shobha dekhe mugdho hobe, ebong shei mugdhota hojom hobe na jotokkhon facebook e tara kii dekhlen sheta baaki duniya na dekhe fele. dosh er kichu na. amar o obikol ei onubhuti guloi hoy majhe sajhe. kintu byapar hocche eibar ami jabo na. shutoraNg amar chokher moNi camera ta "long weekend" e bekaar i poRe thakbe.

ghotona nischoi bojha hoye geche etokkhone? amar ek besh bhalo bondhu amar camera ti cheyeche. tar shonge etao boleche je she tar jibon diye amar camera rokkha korbe. onno karur hathe debe na. camera te jodi ekta daag o lage tahole or naam mitthye.

kintu byapaar hocche, ami to aar choto nei. bhalo buddhi nai baRuk, baje buddhi to tortor kore beRe choleche. shahajjo kora uchit ta to holo, kintu nischoy raat -er ghum keRe noy?

nijer mon ke koshto diye, dushchinta baRiye, parchen na othocho bondhu sthaniyo lokeder shahajjo korechen nischoi kokhono na kokhono? ki gero tahole bhaloi janen. blog likhte likhtei ami bujhte paRchi, monta boddo choto hoye gyache. abar mon er bhetor thekei minmin kore awaj asche, "kintu camera-r jodi kichu hoy? amar camera..." tobu bondhu-r cheye ki camera boRo? camera, taka poisha, shob theke prio golper boi, ek adh din cellphone er talktime?

amra shahajjo korte motamuti shokolei, unmukh na holeo, ghabRai na. tobe shahajjo kora aar nijeke bNash diye shahajjo korar modhyey tulona hoyna. janina camera debo ki debo na, kintu eituku jani, na dite parle, ami amar chotobyalar kache here jabo. she koto koshto korei na koto kichu mene niyechilo, tar kichu daam to ditei hobe, na?

kintu amar camera???

shei lokgulo

aajkal sobai boddo byasto. karur ektu daRiye kotha bolbar somoy nei. ektu bhabar somoy nei. ki thik, ki bhul, bhalo, mondo, pochondo, opochondo...sob mile mishe ekakar hoye geche mathar bhetore. amar nijer i nei, shutorang onnyo kauke dosh diye labh nei. kintu ekta somoy chilo, jokhon sara din amar kono kaaj chilo na. amar ashe pashe manush gulo o kemon jeno byastotaheen chilo. eta tader niye.

amader baRite, kolkata-r onek baRi-r motoi, bashon bikri korte ek mashi ashten. chotto khatto,mota shota, gayer rong moyla, chul kutkute kalo ebong chitchite, gaye shuti-r shaRi goRali chaRiye praye haNtu-r kache. ek jhuRi bashon niye shoptahe ekbaar she ashbe. ashbei. chokh mukh roddure poRa, ghamakranto obosthaye eshe bell bajato. kintu hashlei baajimaat. otogulo daaNt manusher hoy? holeo oto shada? tar chilo. she koto golpo. tar chele ki kore, koto boyesh, kothaye poRe,baRite aar ke ache, bashon bikri kore ko poisha paye,bor kobe maara geche, ei dhoroner onek kotha maa-r deoa jol,mishti sohojoge she bolte thake. bashon she amader baRi theke kono din i peto na. tobu ashto. ekdin eshe bollo, or cheler tumour hoyeche. brain e. daktar dekhale boleche naki kichui kora jabe na. ekta bashon ali-r jonnye to aroi na. er pore ki hoyeche ami janina. take aar dekhini.

tarpor chilo amader paRay thaka ek dompoti. udiya. khub i gorib. budo eiii mota bhuRiala, budi totadhik rugno. Shib mondirer pashe ekta jhupRite ora thakto. school e jaoar somoy budo amar dike takiye protidin hashto. ami hashtam na. ke na ke baba. oder jhupRite sobsomoye kacher botol aar khoborer kagojer mela thakto. ki korto ke jane. sukher kotha ei je ager bar baRi giyeo eder dekha peyechi. eibaar aar buRo hasheni. kintu ami haslam. ami to aar bhoy paina.

ekbaar aamra sobai puri beRate gechilam. guest house er pahaRadar chilo ek buRo bhodrolok. puro kuNjo. chotto khatto. amar oke khub bhalo lagto. boshe boshe ranna korto. ba ruti banato. amake ekdin golpo korchilo, or ek meye ek chele. tara khub bhalo chakri kore naki. amar sudhu mone holo, tahole babake niye jaye na keno. ei kotha bolate, buRo amar maa-ke bollo, "aapnar meyer khub maya". ekhon mone hoy ei jonnoi amar oke bhalo lagto. proshongsha kaar na bhalo lage!

amader baRite tokhon onek lok. maa eka samlate parto na bole ekta chele rakha hoyechilo. gonesh. kintu dekhte michke kartik tar moto. amar oke ekdom bhalo lagto na. aam, lebu, kul eshob peRe dito bote, kintu onko ta amar cheye bhalo korto. du minute e sesh kore felto. moha raag hoto amar. khamche khumche ditam. ekbaar bisshokorma pujo-r somoy baba, amake aar oke niye thakur dekhte beriyechilo. tar kichu din porei o baRi chole gelo. naki onno kothao gelo, janina.

amader baRite ekta kukur chilo. na posha na. o ashole paRa-r kukur chilo. edike amar abar sanghatik bhoy. kintu Lalu ke amar kono din bhoy kore ni. o chilo amar bondhu.amake dekhle or gheu gheu daak obodharito chilo. or ekbaar teen te baccha hoyechilo. amader janlar karnisher neeche. tokhon gache sobe peyara hoyeche. baNdorer khub utpaat. addhek peyara to orai kheto. khuble khuble. ekdin Lalu-r ekta baccha keo.

aro chilo, bijoy kaku je protidin amaye schol e niye jeto, jar cheye beshi bhorsha ami ekta somoy kauke kortam na, ma-ke protidin tatka mach bechte asha ekta lok, mudikhanar dokaner gujrati malik, je gelei amar hathe pauNruti-r packet guNje dito, chootobelar amader baRite kaaj kora Fujia mashi, je amay lojens kine dito protidin.je ekhon dekhleo amaye chinbena.

Lalu aaj nei. shei bashon wali-r motoi. keno hothath ajke tader kotha mone poRlo janina. sudhu mone hoy, jader ami aaj chini, jader shonge roj kotha hoy, jara amar bondhu, tader theke bhalo bodhoy ami eder chintam.

Erai Sottyi.

The New Dawn

For the last few days, a hoard of messages wishing all of us Happy New Year in a variety of languages were seen to spring up in my facebook inbox. It was surprising for two reasons. Firstly, sitting in a foreign country, it is extremely exciting and melancholy at the same time to see languages of your motherland strwen casually about all over, not something we see everyday. Secondly, for some reason our generation has the reputation of lacking patriotism, cultural integrity and any respect for our values whatsoever.... well, doesnt look like it !! Anyways, the festivities might not have yet begun, but my memories sure have been juggled.

Poila Boisakh is and will always be celebrated with a familiar enthusiasm at home. Where I grew up, Happy New Year was wished face to face, hand in hand, smile to smile...it still is. All my cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents would gather together in the house, not because it was New Year specially, but we just needed an ocassion to make a big family even bigger. From flowers to sweets, from Ray movie CDs to Tagore Books, from mangoes to jackfruits, it was an all out Bengali Affair. This fortunately not being a religious affair, we were allowed to be 'children' without any restrictions whatsoever.

I remember one particular night before New Year vividly. My cousin sister, whom I call didibhai, and I had planned to stay up all night just for fun. For us mortals, that was what adventure was all about. We did not let in anyone else on the plan, and went to bed feeling all excited about what excitement lay in the hours ahead. We stole whatever food we could, food that was prepared for the day after, in our palms, and hid it in the folds of our frocks as we pretended to sleep. With unlimited patience, we waited for the whole house to fall asleep. But...it wasnt a small house!! As an aunt would doze peacefully off, another would stir, as one uncle would snore, the other would suddenly decide to feel thirsty.

This went on for we dont know how long, and before long, we were asleep on our sticky frocks, unaware of how it would betray us the next morning. But I guess NewYear didnt wa nt us to go that easy. It must have been around 3 in the night, when didibhai and I woke up simultanously.And as we realised we had lost 3-4 precious hours of our plan, we jolted up on the bed, all sleep gone, charged to make the most of what was left with us. We spent the whole night playing all wiered sorts of games, I dont even remember them now...but they must have been interesting, given that we managed to stay up all through the next hours. We must have been around 8 at the time, and you can imagine what our conversation would have flown. I am surprised I managed to have a conversation at all :)..

I am sure we must have spoken all we could, and heared or pretended to hear all that we could not ignore, but a few hours later, we were silent, looking out of the window, into the sky that was turning from black to red to pink to blue. Slowly, ever so silently, I saw the colours change. Thinking back, I had a looot of time on hand.. the brightest star ( as we knew it then) was all the more bright in the red sky, and just lying there, by the open window, with the balmy wind playing with us, with the flowers in the garden shedding their dews, with the lone owl going back to sleep, with Lalu, the stray dog, streching her beautiful back, and licking her three puppies, with the cool light streaming into sleeping faces in the room, with the catterpillar becoming a butterfly, we saw the sun rise, we saw the NewYear. My first and last till date.

Its a different story altogether that we started such a day, stealing mangoes from a garden nearby, and went on through the year with a lot more such deeds,it was the most innocent day of my life.e ran from garden, with our hand filled with whatever we could carry, our calves scratched with the stray barks, our hands stained with the juice, our frocks with the sweets, our hair flying wild in the wind, barefoot we ran, but our face held a glee, of childhood's inherent happiness, of the faith that we live in a happy world, a satisfaction that we finally achieved what we wanted irrespective of how we achieved it. For what is innocence if not the acceptance of guilt??

That year, we grew up. We went to higher classes, learnt things not included in the syllabus, faced death in the family, came to a different, wiered and loud city without any friends, and left my innocence behind. It seemed as if that New Year dawn, we ran from a lot more than just the gardener...We ran as fast as we could, not looking back, doubtless, fancy free, jumping into the unknown...but we ran from our good times, we ran from our peace of mind, we ran away from innocence.

We ran away from our childhood.

the lost toys

the happiest days of my life, or for that matter, anyone's life must be the days spent in school...days where life began with my mother waking me up with her beautiful face dishevelled with perspiration and sweat from her early morning chores, reluctantly waking up to again fall asleep in the bathroom, more so if it was a winter day...i grew up in kolkata in those days, and winter could be a sleepy affair indeed, days when the school uniform was the most comfortable, clean and starchy dress ever worn, a time when socks would go upto the knees,and shoes would invariable be black and shining every morning, only to come back with a thick coating of dust every evening, days when all sleep would vanish when i would hear the honk of the school bus, filled with laughter and chatter of my friends, those days we had a lot of friends, we knew no plitics, we knew no evil deed, it was just a sincere simple bond that 36 of us classmates shared.

there was moumita, my first friend ever, with her hair curling like maggi, there was poornima, whose surname none of us got right the first time,there were the talukdar twins, always smiling and talking about volleyball, there was shilpa, whose knowledge of shahrukh khan and bllywood movies had me in awe, there was oendri and her dance classes, there was ankita with whom i remember having so called philosophical talks, there was sunetra whose mom made the best tasting noodles i ever had, i am afraid i sometimes ate up all her tiffin, there was anwesha, daydreaming about someone, there was monami and sonali, always found together, there was ria, dainty and darlingy like, there was ibrahim, polite and gentle, there was jyotirmoy, oh so naughty, there was siddhartha, meek but mischievous, there was arko, reigning someones thoughts, :P, there was chandrajit, with half the girls swooning over him, there was payel, planning more mischief with pooja, there was janet, always very tensed, there was monica, wo sadly is no more, there was angela, always making the most of anything, there was subhojit, never saying a word, there was parnalekha, always toping everything, there were oh so many more, none of whom are forgotten, just a bit faded maybe. i owe my lifes lessons to time spent with these people....people i hardly ever met after the best 5 years spent in that school, people i think about when i am sad and life is turning upside down, people i wish i could see again everyday, not the way they are now, but the memory i have of them when i was one of them...

the time when silly little secrets used to be the base of so many blackmails, when betrayal meant not sharing your textbook with your desk mate, when christmas, teachers day, childrens day, independence day formed the best and most important days of our life, what innocent preparation went into all the dances and the skits, and the teachers...how can anyone replace them..miss shorbori, we loved her and she loved us more, miss clara we were so scared of, miss sonia, we were more scared if possible, miss jaya with her scale in hand, the play ground, so familiar, so inviting, so small yet seemed so big, the pool, the topic of undying interest till we got to see it did not have a beach along with it, the banana trees which were supposed to have spirits, the maashis, whom we never discriminated against, maashis son, suman who was one of us too, the guard uncle who i will recognise anywhere, but who probably doesnt remember me anymore, the dogs, always near the bathrooms, huh, the tress, the smell, the flowers, the sky, the walls, the grass, its as if i was alice and it was my eternal wonderland...i keep on thinking about those days, a parallel world as if it was, where nothing was ever wrong, nothing was corrupt, not one ws a cheat, an utopia if ever was...

this was the place i learnt to differenciate between right, wrong, justice, injustice, special, normal and all oher discrimination i make today. it was the place where i first loved, first competed, first dreamt, first performed. it was the place that made me, and it will be the place that will break me. for no other confirms with what it taught me to be. no other follows its golden rule...i do not know how to walk, o alma mater, cause your roads no longer exist...

now my shoes are forever dirty, my mothers face far away, my friends are people who i do not know, my days start with the night,the choice of clothes have replaced the choice of simplicity, i am spoilt, unclean, insincere... ready to travel the new world...but looking back to hear the bus...to hear the laughter, childhood's innocent laughter...