Amar kichu kotha chilo....

sob kotha sobaike bola jayna. kichu kichu lokkei bola jay. na bola porjonto mone hoy rastar jake take dhore sei kotha gulo sonai. kintu tader konomotei bola jayna.

kichu kichu kotha bolte hoyna. seta na bolleo, jar bojhar she ek muhurtei bujhe jay, jar na bojhar she konodin i bojhe na. sutorang, ei to bojhanor cheshta korchi, kichudinei bujhe jabe, seta asha kora britha.

kichu kichu kotha thake, jegulo nijeke bola sob theke kothin. sei kotha jokhon onno keu chokhe angul diye bojhate chay, mone hoy di sala dui chor mere. sahosh to kom na, amake gyaan dite eseche.

kichu kotha bolar onek cheshta korechi. na, cheshta korar kotha bhebechi. kintu oi, sabdhane theko tuku i bolte perechi. er aage bolte badhe. kyano? shunle je kharap lagbe na she bishwash amar ache. tobu kyano?

kichu kichu kotha moner anache kanache, na lekha chithite ghore fera kore. tomake dekhlei, tara mukhe hashi, aar chokhe jhilik hoyei thake. je kotha dyakha jaye, she kotha na bollei ba khoti ki?

kichu kichu kotha sudhu tomakei bola chole. but jotodin bolte na para jay, ei sob kothai bole jabo, jar konoi mane nei.

jobe bolte parbo, jodi bolte pari, hoyto dekhbo bolar kichui nei. tumi to janoi, tai na?

Invisible

Dhut..ajkal kichui bhalo lage na. jodio ei kothata ami protidin niyom kore ek baar boli, aar tar sathe porer line e boli "baRi jabo".... sutorang ami dhorei niyechi keu i amay seriously ney na. mane ei je amar bhalo lagche na, tate kar ki? khNoj niye dekhechi, sobar i bhalo na lagar bohuut karon ache. karur research er tikto obhiggota, to karur boyfriend er shonge aNri, to keu club politics niye matha gorom kore ghurche...sobai byasto, sobai dukhi. aajkal sobai "hello" bole emon bhabe, dekhle pitti ulte ashe. aar sob theke kharap khobor, jokhon tara amay tader mon kharap korar justification dite ashe, amar mathay cholte thake, "uff abar shuru holo nake kanda, mor ge ja, amar ki?" khub i dukkher sathe sottyi kotha ta bollaam. kintu sottyi bollam.

tai thik korechi karur shonge kotha bolbo na. sutorang ami ekhon"invisible".

aajke campus e keu asheni. keu mane, oi 2-3 jon bondhu-bandhob-bandhobi jara ache. to khete khete besh ekta chinta korar somoy paoa gyalo. onek bhablam, janlar bairer brishti, neeche gaRir chole jaoa, ebong undergrad der dhupdhap haNta oboggya kore. kyano, ajker ultra connectivity r juge, kotha bolar, kotha bojhar karur kono lok nei?

onek, na onek na, ei minute 10 ek por, bujhlam gondogol ta kothay. kichudin aage A, S'r somporke bollo "S khub bhalo, ami ja boli sob kotha shone". besh. N bollo, "C er moto bondhu hoy na, amar sob photo like kore". bojha gyalo. M bollo, "B ta lokkhi meye, or moto amay keu bojhe na". sobai bhalo, sobai anupom, jotokkhon tara amar photo, amar kotha, amar chinta, amar poRte thaka chul ebong baRte thaka ojon ke ekbakkye somorthon korche. jotokkhon she amar hyan te hyan melabe, she amar prio bondhu, amar chhayasongi, amar jokher dhon. je din se amar birudhdhe daRiye, tar nijer mot prokashe ichchuk hoye othar dushahosh korbe, se din se amar keu noy. take dekhe mukh ghorate amar 1 din er beshi lagbe na, samnasamni poRle just ekta boka boka hashi, aar kromagoto prarthona kore jaoa je she amar choritrer je kalo onGsho tuku jene gyache, ta jyano tar kachei siimaboddho thake.

eta onek kaal holoi bujhe gechi. tai kalo bhaag ta amar moner modhhei roye jaye. sobaike sref ghosha maja, oti ujjol, oporaNsho tuku dyakhai. din ke din kalo amar moddhe joma hochhe. bhablam, lukiyei jokhon rakhbo, bhalobhabei lukoi. aajkal raag korina, jhogRa korina, kotha katakati korina. kono jhamelate i ami nei. jhamela-walader bondhu thake na. bondhu na thaka ta bipojjonok.

tomar bondhu ache? thik jano? tobe tumi invisible kyano?

Tui

Janish ki tui, tui bolte bhalo lage na toke,

Tui ki sudhui bondhu hobi? Tai boli tobe…

Toke dekhe abar amar khelte ichche kore,

Bhul korbo ami, tui hasbi jore jore…

Janbi na sei bhul er kone ache chotto kotha,

Tor hashir kolorobe, bhulechi shei byatha

Gali galaj, kil choR, kichui to nei baki,

Sob bhule tor hashitukui aajke tule rakhi.

Tui bhabchish boka ami, kichui bujhi na

Tor chokhe je muchki alo, setao dekhina,

Toder ekon demak koto, ki na tora janish…

Amar je aaj sondhye ekhon, amay ki aar manish?

Onek fagun aage, tor i moton she o,

Take ami lukhiyechulam khatar shesh patay,

Hariye jaoa koshto gulo bhiR koreche mone,

Jani tui o hariye jabi, kichuta poth aar,

khub ki rege jabi? jodi alto kore dhori?

chotto je tor hath ta boro, tui o choto aroi

tobe jokhon kothin chokhe shashon korish amay

janish ki tui? bhoy pai na, ador mone ghonay..

tobu kyano toke ami amar moton kore

sajiye rakhi chokher bhitor, moner ondhokare?

janish na to, toke ami bosiyechi aaj pashe,

janbio na, monta amar tokei bhalobashe.

e ki, tui je hath ta boddo jorei dhore achish?

plan ta ki? aaj bikele royei jabi naki?

dekhi to tor chokh duto, ki ache tor mone?

ore, e je amar kotha, bhashche kone kone

tui i tobe bujhli amar naa gaoa sob gaan,

tui i tobe guchiye dili kolpona khan khan

chotobyalaye hariyechilam toke khyalar mathe,

boro hoyeo chotto hobo aaj ami tor sathe.

Playlist

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. :)

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.

The Friend

"Arre yaar, we are good friends"....

It was the moment I spoke these words aloud, I realised how redundant they were. Because after all, what did I mean by a "good" friend? Is there any such thing as bad friendship?

But these are weird times. busy times. fast times. a very very selfish time. today the word friend can mean anyone, from the bartender you see every saturday night, your boss's niece who you danced with, the girl who shares your lab,to the guy next door with a very cute dog...the list is endless. In an inflation infested, expensive world, friends seem to come very cheap. In fact there is a fixed protocol these days. Have a light, seemingly interesting conversation, realise to your joy that you have a few random things in common, promise to meet again, and promptly add them in facebook. or orkut. or twitter. "You have 1 new friend request". A great feeling ain't it?

Very soon, these friends end up being just a dot. Available, or Busy, but mostly Away. and it does'nt really take very long to get to that. The silliest miscommunication, an unfulfilled expectation, a few missed calls...its simple actually. And strangely, it doesnt hurt much either. The bond that broke, was never that strong in the first place.

The world my dears, have turned into stage of scripted relationships.

The Bond. Probably the only one that can be called a relationship without needing a validation ceremony. And precisely why, we never give it the deserved justice. A friend can be taken lightly, he can be tossed around, given second priority to, poked fun at, ditched at the last minute, bitterly fought with. Not because he is unimportant, but because you have enough faith to do so. It is the bestest of friends with whom you have the worst of fights. Uninhibitedly. Because it is only with them that you are free. Yourself. And proudly so....

In the midst of such drama, you find hands that still hold strong, ignoring the doldrums, minds that unfold the harshest of truths, yet caressing your heart with it. And you finally lean back, without the fear of the fall.

Here's to my friends. Because you let me be. Because with you, I can see the unstated affection, the unclaimed trust, the unsolicitated love.

Because you finally free friendship of all adjectives.

Bombay...Meri Jaan !!!

How many movies and how many books have tried how many times to capture the essence of this city? The soul with which it thumps days in and nights out? The glory of just being...just being Bombay. Amidst the overwhelming spread of documentation, it seems all you need is a search engine to satisfy your urge to know the city. But is it enough? Is anything enough?

It has been more than a decade since I moved reluctantly to Bombay. Being uprooted from the city of my birth, I was determined to dislike it. But as is the way with my life..I always end up doing that which I decide against. As I fell out of childhood and into the mess of adolscence, I fell for the charms of the city. Unknown to me, like an eternal enchantress, Bombay had held me in her memerising grip, and I had finally, ceased to resist.

But you see, being in love with Bombay is something that comes naturally to visitors. Those that stay, and those that move away. The sensuality is such, it is impossible to see, and not want to see some more. From the beaches bathed in the first light, the sharp smell of fresh fish at Sassoon Dock, the haunting smell of mogra in the well oiled hair of the koli women, the tangy taste of vada pav that evoked hunger at odd hours, the continuous attempt to hang from the doors of local trains, avoiding the perspiring crowd, the crows that flew so low they almost touched your head, the stolen glances of love at Bandra Fort, the gleam of the corporate and the buzz of page 3, lights that twinkled brighter than stars at Marine Drive at the onset of dusk, which set a gloomy shadow in the caves of Kanheri, probing the beauties of Kamathipura to lay out their jewels, a celebration of life palpitates as the night wears on, only to be better prepared for the trials of the next sunrise.

Bombay however, holds more. It is one thing to love her from afar, to admire her beauty, to hold her in pictures...but it is not easy to remain bonded to her for long. One day, the potholes, the attacks, the sqwabbles in the trains, the irritating wait on the roads, the crow shit on your car, the increasing price of the cold cutting chai, the incompetence of all those who are responsible for the above are going to get to you. And then you might leave Bombay, for say Amsterdam, or New York, or Athens.

Bombay ka kuch nahi ho sakta yaar. Bloody corruption ne dho daala hai country ko...

So easy to leave. Like a broken relationship. A failed marriage. Walk away. Easy.

But you will come back. Because Bombay was never your wife, baby, she was your mistress. The charms may die, the attraction does not. And slowly, you realise there is a soul within the glamour. It is not just the beauty, it is the energy with which it is presented. An intangible qwality you will lurge forward to grip, but always miss. This is the magic. The ploy. That which will always make your heart beat faster when you truly think of her. And make you come back. Now and forever.

No photograph, no memoir, no movie does justice. Bombay is just too big to be captured.