goodbye 2005. what an eventful year you were. i got so much. i lost so much. but if i weigh the pros and cons, i must acknowledge, you were a great year for me. i got liberated.
perhaps this is the first time in my life that i am feeling sad for an year to go. this is the first time that i am not welcoming the next year with the enthusiasm as i used to do.
what an eventful year you were.
you taught me life dear.
now that you are going, i bid you farewell friend.
you will always be a very special year to remember in my iteranary.
goodbye 2005, i know it very well that none of the coming years would be as challenging and ful l of surprises that you were.
so my friend, with a heavy heart, i bid you adieu.
Saturday, December 31, 2005
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
Adventures of Piklu...Bhokkattaa
Piklu was tired with his hand held video game. It’s a useless thing. It doesn’t come close to his wooden truck or the sling or the little newspaper-kite his father makes him everyday.
He threw the handheld device and ran to the terrace. His house is surrounded by huge-monstrous palm-trees on all three sides. This is the reason he never comes to the terrace at night. At night this tree reminds him of the jakkha in the thakurmar jhuli. And he is sure, some of the rakshasas live in the palm trees. Though, according to his mother, even ghosts cannot tame him, but he fears ghosts, this much he admits on his own.
It’s 2 pm and there is nobody in his house to police him. He has just managed to slip past his fast asleep mother. He hates when his mother forces him to sleep in the afternoon, when there is so many activities going on around the world.
Piklu took his sling and arrived at the terrace. It’s winter and modhu dada is flying kites. There will be soon dog-fight between the lattu and mukhpora-hanuman behind their palm-trees. He wished modhuda’s lattu should survive this fight. He wished at this vital moment, he would have been with modhuda. He would act as a deputy. Modhuda assigns him the prestigious task of holding the latai and lift the kite. How much he loves to see the opponent’s kite sailing off in the open sky towards the kingdom of never-return.
Piklu is a staunch believer in his self-discovered final resting places of the kites. Like, if modhuda manages to snap this mukhpora-hanuman, it would certainly go to lanka, it will land in the garden of mandakini. Sita will be happy to see the kite. Likewise if the lattu gets cut, it will go to Disneyland.
The palm trees were obstructing the view. Piklu was shifting and struggling to see the kite-fight properly. He was sad. He wants to go there. Modhuda would give him the latai to hold. He would slowly roll the latai and the tiny kite would sway near Pakistan. Mussarah (he knows Pakistan’s president’s name…piklu is a living encyclopaedia, according to his bulu-kaku) would see piklu flying kite sitting in the cockpit of his missile.
And sometimes, piklu would frighten the birds that are always in such a hurry as not to see the hanging string in the air. Piklu loves to see the birdies change their route once they discover there is a thin string hanging in the air. They would turn their head towards the boy who is flying the kite and curse him in a cacophony. Piklu loves all these things. After all this will be the hot debate once they go to rest in their resting trees. The crows complain the most in the evening time.
But piklu was missing all this. And madhuda is too engrossed in flying kite than to notice him.
“Modhudada…,” piklu shouted.
“Who, piklu?” modhudada replied without looking at the source. He is busy handling the invader.
--yaa, I am, what are you doing?
--why, I am flying kite. Come quickly…I have to take over the mukhpora. Latai dhorbi aay.
“I can’t,” piklu’s voice choked in sadness.
--why?
--the door is closed.
--than open it and run.
--I can’t, the bolt is high.
--then tell your mother to open.
--she is sleeping
--wake her up, tell its emergency.
--no, she will again make me sleep.
“I have fooled her again today, I came out from the bed when she fell asleep,” piklu was all smile on his achievement.
--than what to do…just see.
--but I want to come.
--you should…come.
--maa will scold me.
--no she won’t
--she will.
--than what…
--modhuda, I want to come.
--come then.
--how?
--wait. I am sending my mother to your place. Maa and aunty will chat together and you slip through. Till then I am managing to hold my ground, I will fight only when you come. I want somebody to hold the latai.
Piklu was ready. Just when modhuda’s mother entered the house, he slipped through the gate, his mother shouting behind him. His mother gave up all hope and flashed a smile when piklu disappeared in modhu’s house. “Not even ghost can tame him…” she sighed.
Piklu was ready holding his ground and his captain (piklu’s inspiration…one day he wants to be like modhudada and then they will jointly fly kites and would conquer the world) was fighting valorously with the invader. Modhudada’s mastery with the kites is mind-blowing. As if his kites obey his orders. The kite would sway to the left side, right side, would dive down like a kingfisher and would pierce through the air upwards like a rocket.
“piklu, fool what are you looking at. Wrap up the threads…see they have all jumbled up.” Modhudada scolded him hard. Piklu was too engrossed looking at the jugglers in the sky. Diving with a screeching sound and rising at a break-neck speed as if they will hit the cloud and make a hole in it. He almost forgot the ground reality. A soldier forgetting his duty is a crime…modhudada says.
Piklu tried hard to wrap the threads, but make it all the more jumbled. Modhu saw the sadness in his deputy’s face. “leave it comrade…we need to let off the strings right now.”
--Look …look…look…here we go…loosen your latai piklu, let it roll wildly…let the threads go…let it be free flowing…its all now upto you piklu…see I am releasing the thread…now now pilu…you are the incharge…just let the latai roll wildly. Release as much string as it demands…le it be…let it.
Piklu’s heart stopped. He is now the incharge of the kite. Both the kites are rolling wildly. Both the kites are getting tinier and tinier…and there it goes, the mukhpora swapped from its threads.
It took seconds for piklu to understand what happened. He was still letting his kite go on, the latai on his hand was rolling like a water mill in a fast stream, his whole body was shaking wildly. Suddenly madhuda shouted… “Bhokkata ….bhoooookkkkaaaatttttaaaaa, duooo…duooo…duoooo.”
Modhuda took charge of the kite…piklu started screaming…bhokkkatttaa, bhokkattaa…duooo, pare naa, pare naaa, bhokktaaa…
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Bhokkaattaaaa….bhokkaaattaaaa, bhokkaaatattaaa….
He was dancing all over the terrace, he has made it again… “BHOKAKKKKTTTTAAAAA…, ” he went on shouting…
And then suddenly that mombati came from nowhere and dived into the hanging threads, modhudada was busy wrapping up his latai, and couldn’t notice the coward that attacked from behind. Moments later, the mombati snapped modhuda’s lattu.
A pale of sadness descended upon both of them as they saw their kite sailing towards the no-man’s land with almost all the threads they have. They could hear the faint rebuke the enemy camp was hurling to them.
They saw the mombati rolling around the threads as it tried to capture the lattu in the sky itself.
And it captured it also. Both the kites were swaying side by side as if they were best of friends. Modhudada and piklu had nothing to do but to see it.
Suddenly, because of the weight of the huge threads, or because of the wind or may be because of the sharp manjha (or is it piklu’s sigh?) the mombati also snapped…
They could now see both the kites sailing towards the no-man’s land.
Modhudada sprang up shouting…”BHHHHOOOOOKKKAAAATTTTAAAA….”
Piklu followed soon… “BHOKKAAATTTAAAA…BBBHHHHHOOOOOKKKKKAATTTTAAA…
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Bhokkaattaaaa….bhokkaaattaaaa, bhokkaaatattaaa….
BHHHHOKKKKAAAATTTAAAAA…
He threw the handheld device and ran to the terrace. His house is surrounded by huge-monstrous palm-trees on all three sides. This is the reason he never comes to the terrace at night. At night this tree reminds him of the jakkha in the thakurmar jhuli. And he is sure, some of the rakshasas live in the palm trees. Though, according to his mother, even ghosts cannot tame him, but he fears ghosts, this much he admits on his own.
It’s 2 pm and there is nobody in his house to police him. He has just managed to slip past his fast asleep mother. He hates when his mother forces him to sleep in the afternoon, when there is so many activities going on around the world.
Piklu took his sling and arrived at the terrace. It’s winter and modhu dada is flying kites. There will be soon dog-fight between the lattu and mukhpora-hanuman behind their palm-trees. He wished modhuda’s lattu should survive this fight. He wished at this vital moment, he would have been with modhuda. He would act as a deputy. Modhuda assigns him the prestigious task of holding the latai and lift the kite. How much he loves to see the opponent’s kite sailing off in the open sky towards the kingdom of never-return.
Piklu is a staunch believer in his self-discovered final resting places of the kites. Like, if modhuda manages to snap this mukhpora-hanuman, it would certainly go to lanka, it will land in the garden of mandakini. Sita will be happy to see the kite. Likewise if the lattu gets cut, it will go to Disneyland.
The palm trees were obstructing the view. Piklu was shifting and struggling to see the kite-fight properly. He was sad. He wants to go there. Modhuda would give him the latai to hold. He would slowly roll the latai and the tiny kite would sway near Pakistan. Mussarah (he knows Pakistan’s president’s name…piklu is a living encyclopaedia, according to his bulu-kaku) would see piklu flying kite sitting in the cockpit of his missile.
And sometimes, piklu would frighten the birds that are always in such a hurry as not to see the hanging string in the air. Piklu loves to see the birdies change their route once they discover there is a thin string hanging in the air. They would turn their head towards the boy who is flying the kite and curse him in a cacophony. Piklu loves all these things. After all this will be the hot debate once they go to rest in their resting trees. The crows complain the most in the evening time.
But piklu was missing all this. And madhuda is too engrossed in flying kite than to notice him.
“Modhudada…,” piklu shouted.
“Who, piklu?” modhudada replied without looking at the source. He is busy handling the invader.
--yaa, I am, what are you doing?
--why, I am flying kite. Come quickly…I have to take over the mukhpora. Latai dhorbi aay.
“I can’t,” piklu’s voice choked in sadness.
--why?
--the door is closed.
--than open it and run.
--I can’t, the bolt is high.
--then tell your mother to open.
--she is sleeping
--wake her up, tell its emergency.
--no, she will again make me sleep.
“I have fooled her again today, I came out from the bed when she fell asleep,” piklu was all smile on his achievement.
--than what to do…just see.
--but I want to come.
--you should…come.
--maa will scold me.
--no she won’t
--she will.
--than what…
--modhuda, I want to come.
--come then.
--how?
--wait. I am sending my mother to your place. Maa and aunty will chat together and you slip through. Till then I am managing to hold my ground, I will fight only when you come. I want somebody to hold the latai.
Piklu was ready. Just when modhuda’s mother entered the house, he slipped through the gate, his mother shouting behind him. His mother gave up all hope and flashed a smile when piklu disappeared in modhu’s house. “Not even ghost can tame him…” she sighed.
Piklu was ready holding his ground and his captain (piklu’s inspiration…one day he wants to be like modhudada and then they will jointly fly kites and would conquer the world) was fighting valorously with the invader. Modhudada’s mastery with the kites is mind-blowing. As if his kites obey his orders. The kite would sway to the left side, right side, would dive down like a kingfisher and would pierce through the air upwards like a rocket.
“piklu, fool what are you looking at. Wrap up the threads…see they have all jumbled up.” Modhudada scolded him hard. Piklu was too engrossed looking at the jugglers in the sky. Diving with a screeching sound and rising at a break-neck speed as if they will hit the cloud and make a hole in it. He almost forgot the ground reality. A soldier forgetting his duty is a crime…modhudada says.
Piklu tried hard to wrap the threads, but make it all the more jumbled. Modhu saw the sadness in his deputy’s face. “leave it comrade…we need to let off the strings right now.”
--Look …look…look…here we go…loosen your latai piklu, let it roll wildly…let the threads go…let it be free flowing…its all now upto you piklu…see I am releasing the thread…now now pilu…you are the incharge…just let the latai roll wildly. Release as much string as it demands…le it be…let it.
Piklu’s heart stopped. He is now the incharge of the kite. Both the kites are rolling wildly. Both the kites are getting tinier and tinier…and there it goes, the mukhpora swapped from its threads.
It took seconds for piklu to understand what happened. He was still letting his kite go on, the latai on his hand was rolling like a water mill in a fast stream, his whole body was shaking wildly. Suddenly madhuda shouted… “Bhokkata ….bhoooookkkkaaaatttttaaaaa, duooo…duooo…duoooo.”
Modhuda took charge of the kite…piklu started screaming…bhokkkatttaa, bhokkattaa…duooo, pare naa, pare naaa, bhokktaaa…
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Bhokkaattaaaa….bhokkaaattaaaa, bhokkaaatattaaa….
He was dancing all over the terrace, he has made it again… “BHOKAKKKKTTTTAAAAA…, ” he went on shouting…
And then suddenly that mombati came from nowhere and dived into the hanging threads, modhudada was busy wrapping up his latai, and couldn’t notice the coward that attacked from behind. Moments later, the mombati snapped modhuda’s lattu.
A pale of sadness descended upon both of them as they saw their kite sailing towards the no-man’s land with almost all the threads they have. They could hear the faint rebuke the enemy camp was hurling to them.
They saw the mombati rolling around the threads as it tried to capture the lattu in the sky itself.
And it captured it also. Both the kites were swaying side by side as if they were best of friends. Modhudada and piklu had nothing to do but to see it.
Suddenly, because of the weight of the huge threads, or because of the wind or may be because of the sharp manjha (or is it piklu’s sigh?) the mombati also snapped…
They could now see both the kites sailing towards the no-man’s land.
Modhudada sprang up shouting…”BHHHHOOOOOKKKAAAATTTTAAAA….”
Piklu followed soon… “BHOKKAAATTTAAAA…BBBHHHHHOOOOOKKKKKAATTTTAAA…
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Kandle pore maarbo chata,
Police tomar bhokkatta…,
Bhokkaattaaaa….bhokkaaattaaaa, bhokkaaatattaaa….
BHHHHOKKKKAAAATTTAAAAA…
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Adventures of Piklu...Fishy
“Hold on, who’s there?”, shouted the policeman in broken bengali.
“It’s me sir,” piklu came out from his hiding place, trembling.
“And what you were doing there?” the policeman thundered through his big, rolled, black, waxed-moustache.
“I will never come here. I swear, I will never come this close to a pond. I am a good boy.”
The policeman started observing him with rolling eyes.
“I am a good boy, I drink milk and I do my homework regularly, and I got a gold star in my diary as I corrected all my maths. Don’t take me to jail…pl…” piklu’s voice choked in fear.
Still the policeman would go on inspecting him, frowning, eyes squeezed…biting his lips.
“your name?” thundered the cloud.
“Soumen Majumdar, also Piklu, also Bitlu, also Bablu, also palash, and my grandpa call me bhombol, my granny calls me laalkumar, and my didi calls me tiktiki, and my maa calls me sonamona, and my uncle in nagpur call…” piklu’s voice again choked, the policeman is still looking at him, this time with rounded eyes. “…me…rajkumar,” piklu managed to finish.
“everybody call me piklu…,” he added.
“what are you doing here?, ” the policeman inquired.
Piklu was silent. “hmmm…?” the policeman looked hard at him. “nothing…I will not come here again. I promise…don’t take me to the jail,” piklu pleaded.
“hmmm…Piklu Mukherjee…”
“only piklu…and soumen majumdar” piklu rectified.
“hmmm…piklu”
--yes…this is right.
--what exactly you were doing here.
--nothing, I will not come again, I promise.
--would you ever come here?
--how many times I have to tell you, I told you na…
--hmmm…
--sorry…I am a good boy.
--in which class you are?
--holy child primary school, near the station.
--hmmm…which school?
--nursery.
--how old are you?
--three…no four, I don’t know. But my didi is twelve.
--hmmm…
--what do you study in school.
--abcd, poem…
--like?
--like twinkle twinkle, baba black sheep…jack and jill.
--tell jack and jill.
--I can go then?
--hmmm…
The sound was particularly concerning…Piklu jump started, “jack and jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water, jack fell down and broke his…broke his…broke his…and jill came tumbling after.” There were moments silence, piklu was afraid about his fate as he failed in the exam.
--you don’t know any hindi poem?
--no…
--bengali?
--yaaa…aata gache tota pakhi, dalim gache mou, hire dadar marmare than, thakur dadar bou.
--wah, wah very good, very nice…
Piklu was proud of his intelligence. It was not taught in his school. His grandmother taught him.
“I know one more…”
--is it? carry on then…
--ABC, kapore hegechi, kapor gelo dhopar bari, aabar hegechi.
Piklu burst out in laughter, his tiny left hand pressing on his mouth. He knew this is a dirty poem.
The hindi-speaking policeman, took some time to understand this Bengali masterpiece. than he also burst into loud laughter, facing towards sky.
Both laughed for sometime. Piklu was happy the poiceman didn’t mind his dirty joke. It was very funny though.
--do you know lakri ki kathi…kathi pe ghora
--what’s that?
--ok…do you know nani tere morni ko
--No…
Piklu was confused. This is the first time he is hearing these poems. And he understands Hindi.
“You don’t know these poems, than you don’t know anything…shall I sing it for you?”
Piklu was not sure…the policeman didn’t wait for his response. He looked around, to ensure nobody is taking notice of them…particularly those of a law-breaker kind. He cleared his throat and started with all his finesse, “nani tere morni ko more le gayi, baaki jo bacha that kale chor le gayi…”
He finished the whole song. He was happy as piklu was giving his full attention. It was not piklu’s fault. All the rhymes worldwide are such that a child can easily relate to it. No matter what the lore’s origin is.
“How was it?” the policeman inquired.
--good, so may I go?
The policeman again started staring at him, “what were you doing here?”
“I will not come here again. Please don’t tell my mother,” after the song and merriment he was sure he will not be taken into custody, whatever the crime is.
--hmmm…
--and I will not steal pickles from nanny’s bottle…and I will not beat my friend.
---hmmm…understood, but why did you came here?
Piklu thought for a moment, than he disclosed the truth. “just to see the fish in the pond. see those fishes, you can see a star shines on their head.”
“hmmm…do you want me to catch you one.”
Piklu shouted as he had discovered his didi’s hidden chocolate, “why…yes…sure…please do…I will keep in a bottle.”
“ok, I am catching one, just grab it and run to your house, it would need water to survive. Don’t get delayed on the way. And yes, don’t come to this pond again. You know what is there in this pond?
“bhoot…”
--no worst than that. Sharks and whales, they will gulp you like you do with tablets.
--oh…
--and there is baby-catcher. They live in ponds.
“I am not a baby,” piklu protested. “I am taller than all the boys in my class. Papan is the shortest in our class. He is a baby.
--hahahaha, right you are, still then you should not come here. And if I see you again, I will take you and put you into jail.
Now that was terrifying.
For the next half an hour, piklu instructed the policeuncle which fish to catch but the police man failed repeatedly before a success.
Piklu hold the fish in the little palms, jointly shaped as a bowl. Water was fast draining out from his hands.
Piklu could hear the policeman shouting, “run run…run fast …hahahaha…run fast son….hahaha…”
The sound of the policeman faded in the air, yet the words were echoing in piklu’s ears, “the next time you come near a pond…I will gulp you like a tablet…I am the bhoot of a pond…hahahaha….bhooooooot….hahahaha…..bhooooooot….”
“It’s me sir,” piklu came out from his hiding place, trembling.
“And what you were doing there?” the policeman thundered through his big, rolled, black, waxed-moustache.
“I will never come here. I swear, I will never come this close to a pond. I am a good boy.”
The policeman started observing him with rolling eyes.
“I am a good boy, I drink milk and I do my homework regularly, and I got a gold star in my diary as I corrected all my maths. Don’t take me to jail…pl…” piklu’s voice choked in fear.
Still the policeman would go on inspecting him, frowning, eyes squeezed…biting his lips.
“your name?” thundered the cloud.
“Soumen Majumdar, also Piklu, also Bitlu, also Bablu, also palash, and my grandpa call me bhombol, my granny calls me laalkumar, and my didi calls me tiktiki, and my maa calls me sonamona, and my uncle in nagpur call…” piklu’s voice again choked, the policeman is still looking at him, this time with rounded eyes. “…me…rajkumar,” piklu managed to finish.
“everybody call me piklu…,” he added.
“what are you doing here?, ” the policeman inquired.
Piklu was silent. “hmmm…?” the policeman looked hard at him. “nothing…I will not come here again. I promise…don’t take me to the jail,” piklu pleaded.
“hmmm…Piklu Mukherjee…”
“only piklu…and soumen majumdar” piklu rectified.
“hmmm…piklu”
--yes…this is right.
--what exactly you were doing here.
--nothing, I will not come again, I promise.
--would you ever come here?
--how many times I have to tell you, I told you na…
--hmmm…
--sorry…I am a good boy.
--in which class you are?
--holy child primary school, near the station.
--hmmm…which school?
--nursery.
--how old are you?
--three…no four, I don’t know. But my didi is twelve.
--hmmm…
--what do you study in school.
--abcd, poem…
--like?
--like twinkle twinkle, baba black sheep…jack and jill.
--tell jack and jill.
--I can go then?
--hmmm…
The sound was particularly concerning…Piklu jump started, “jack and jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of water, jack fell down and broke his…broke his…broke his…and jill came tumbling after.” There were moments silence, piklu was afraid about his fate as he failed in the exam.
--you don’t know any hindi poem?
--no…
--bengali?
--yaaa…aata gache tota pakhi, dalim gache mou, hire dadar marmare than, thakur dadar bou.
--wah, wah very good, very nice…
Piklu was proud of his intelligence. It was not taught in his school. His grandmother taught him.
“I know one more…”
--is it? carry on then…
--ABC, kapore hegechi, kapor gelo dhopar bari, aabar hegechi.
Piklu burst out in laughter, his tiny left hand pressing on his mouth. He knew this is a dirty poem.
The hindi-speaking policeman, took some time to understand this Bengali masterpiece. than he also burst into loud laughter, facing towards sky.
Both laughed for sometime. Piklu was happy the poiceman didn’t mind his dirty joke. It was very funny though.
--do you know lakri ki kathi…kathi pe ghora
--what’s that?
--ok…do you know nani tere morni ko
--No…
Piklu was confused. This is the first time he is hearing these poems. And he understands Hindi.
“You don’t know these poems, than you don’t know anything…shall I sing it for you?”
Piklu was not sure…the policeman didn’t wait for his response. He looked around, to ensure nobody is taking notice of them…particularly those of a law-breaker kind. He cleared his throat and started with all his finesse, “nani tere morni ko more le gayi, baaki jo bacha that kale chor le gayi…”
He finished the whole song. He was happy as piklu was giving his full attention. It was not piklu’s fault. All the rhymes worldwide are such that a child can easily relate to it. No matter what the lore’s origin is.
“How was it?” the policeman inquired.
--good, so may I go?
The policeman again started staring at him, “what were you doing here?”
“I will not come here again. Please don’t tell my mother,” after the song and merriment he was sure he will not be taken into custody, whatever the crime is.
--hmmm…
--and I will not steal pickles from nanny’s bottle…and I will not beat my friend.
---hmmm…understood, but why did you came here?
Piklu thought for a moment, than he disclosed the truth. “just to see the fish in the pond. see those fishes, you can see a star shines on their head.”
“hmmm…do you want me to catch you one.”
Piklu shouted as he had discovered his didi’s hidden chocolate, “why…yes…sure…please do…I will keep in a bottle.”
“ok, I am catching one, just grab it and run to your house, it would need water to survive. Don’t get delayed on the way. And yes, don’t come to this pond again. You know what is there in this pond?
“bhoot…”
--no worst than that. Sharks and whales, they will gulp you like you do with tablets.
--oh…
--and there is baby-catcher. They live in ponds.
“I am not a baby,” piklu protested. “I am taller than all the boys in my class. Papan is the shortest in our class. He is a baby.
--hahahaha, right you are, still then you should not come here. And if I see you again, I will take you and put you into jail.
Now that was terrifying.
For the next half an hour, piklu instructed the policeuncle which fish to catch but the police man failed repeatedly before a success.
Piklu hold the fish in the little palms, jointly shaped as a bowl. Water was fast draining out from his hands.
Piklu could hear the policeman shouting, “run run…run fast …hahahaha…run fast son….hahaha…”
The sound of the policeman faded in the air, yet the words were echoing in piklu’s ears, “the next time you come near a pond…I will gulp you like a tablet…I am the bhoot of a pond…hahahaha….bhooooooot….hahahaha…..bhooooooot….”
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
Respect
“No Sushama, don’t switch on the light. Darkness is perfectly fine. This darkness is nothing compared to the black hole that is sucking on my whole existence to oblivion.
I am tired of this tussle. I want to resign to my fate, I want to resign to you.”
I stood up and reached for Sushama who was seating in the sofa. Sushama sprang up and attempted to run. I again leaned myself to the wall.
“oh Sushama, you thought I was going to touch you, did I ever touched you all these years? Even when we were really closed and I had every chance to defile you, Did I, ever touched you my friend? Than how did you imagine that I am going to take advantage of this darkness? Friend…answer me.
Yes, you are my dearest friend. I have known nobody in this world except you. (Than I quickly corrected)…by nobody I meant girl. But does that mean I have unnatural tendencies? No, no darling, I just wanted to ensure that my love is platonic. Oh, it was a great fight. How many times I wanted to kiss you. See, try to understand, if you see a lovely baby, would you not try to take him or her in your arms, would you not like to kiss her? So is that wrong, to kiss or touch somebody whom you love? No, nope, not at all. But still I didn’t touch you, I didn’t try to kiss you. Just to ensure you remain as sacred as you were when I first met you. I am not a fly-by-night lover Sushi, I know you know that.”
Sushama was silent in that darkness. From the pitch darkness I could sense she is trying to weigh my words. Next to don-juan if there is any in history, probably that’s me. I didn’t heed to it. I was emotional. Sushama’s mother is continuously raising hell. She wont let me meet her…in her house. She suspects we have ulterior motives. Of late, sushi is also suspecting me. I am fed up of all these. I have come here to part with her. Before parting I wanted to tell my pain to her. I didn’t let her light on the switch. She would see my face, I would see her.
I carried on, “you know why I didn’t touch you ever…because, I am not that swine. I am not a bad man. And I know you are from a very respectful family. Your mother is a devi. She is the most pious lady in out locality. From childhood, whenever I used to see your mother, I used to think, why she is not my mother? I planned to pursue my father to marry her. I must confess, I used to pray to the god, to kill your father, so that my father may marry your mother and your mother become my mother which in case turn my father into your father…oh, how nice it would have been, there would have no bars to separate us. We would have lived with each other forever. But the wonderful part would have been that I would get your mother as mine. Oh, what a wonderful lady she is.”
I could sense sushi’s heavy breath.
I continued the momentum. “infact I loved you looking your mother…she is so gorgeous a lady. She is so charming. She looks as if she is only 30 now, I wonder how she used to look when she was eighteen. She almost resembles your elder sister. Is she is your real mother or step one? Sushi…sushi…is she your step mother?”
She didn’t reply…I didn’t pester, I continued. Sushi I am going. I know your mother don’t tolerate me. She is overtaken by the rumors that my detesters spread. I am not a flirt sushi, I never flirt with anybody, let aside touch one. But your mother will not understand. She does not know how much I respect her. You have got a lovely mother. Convey her my pranam, but not before I leave this city. I know, she wont believe me. But still, tell her, I respect her as goddess kali…ok, it may not sound good, tell her, I respect her as goddess durga.”
I could hear her deep breath. But she didn’t talk to me.
“sushi, I am going. I love you, as I loved your mother…bye…bye bye…”
I ran out from the room crying.
The next morning, my sister called me up. Saying sushi’s mother has come to meet me. I rubbed my eyes and met her in the drawing room. She blessed me, invited me for a dinner and complained why don’t I come to their house?
Needless to say, I go now regularly.
Sushi wonders, how come the tide changed. I didn’t disclose to her, will never disclose that, that day when I saw her mother entering sushi’s room, I took the opportunity and flaunted my theater days experience.
What dialogues I gave that day, pretending I didn’t understood it was sushi’s mother and not sushi.
And for my personal opinion, I give a fuck to that daughter of a bitch, and also to the granddaughter of the bitch. People are still in doubt whether Sushi is her father's daughter!
That day when sushi was wondering, what had happened to her mother, I stopped her. took her into my arms and rolled into the bed. Sushi’s mother had gone to the harishava for Krishna-naam. This she everyday does, after I enter the house.
And soon we both were in our birthday dress.
I am tired of this tussle. I want to resign to my fate, I want to resign to you.”
I stood up and reached for Sushama who was seating in the sofa. Sushama sprang up and attempted to run. I again leaned myself to the wall.
“oh Sushama, you thought I was going to touch you, did I ever touched you all these years? Even when we were really closed and I had every chance to defile you, Did I, ever touched you my friend? Than how did you imagine that I am going to take advantage of this darkness? Friend…answer me.
Yes, you are my dearest friend. I have known nobody in this world except you. (Than I quickly corrected)…by nobody I meant girl. But does that mean I have unnatural tendencies? No, no darling, I just wanted to ensure that my love is platonic. Oh, it was a great fight. How many times I wanted to kiss you. See, try to understand, if you see a lovely baby, would you not try to take him or her in your arms, would you not like to kiss her? So is that wrong, to kiss or touch somebody whom you love? No, nope, not at all. But still I didn’t touch you, I didn’t try to kiss you. Just to ensure you remain as sacred as you were when I first met you. I am not a fly-by-night lover Sushi, I know you know that.”
Sushama was silent in that darkness. From the pitch darkness I could sense she is trying to weigh my words. Next to don-juan if there is any in history, probably that’s me. I didn’t heed to it. I was emotional. Sushama’s mother is continuously raising hell. She wont let me meet her…in her house. She suspects we have ulterior motives. Of late, sushi is also suspecting me. I am fed up of all these. I have come here to part with her. Before parting I wanted to tell my pain to her. I didn’t let her light on the switch. She would see my face, I would see her.
I carried on, “you know why I didn’t touch you ever…because, I am not that swine. I am not a bad man. And I know you are from a very respectful family. Your mother is a devi. She is the most pious lady in out locality. From childhood, whenever I used to see your mother, I used to think, why she is not my mother? I planned to pursue my father to marry her. I must confess, I used to pray to the god, to kill your father, so that my father may marry your mother and your mother become my mother which in case turn my father into your father…oh, how nice it would have been, there would have no bars to separate us. We would have lived with each other forever. But the wonderful part would have been that I would get your mother as mine. Oh, what a wonderful lady she is.”
I could sense sushi’s heavy breath.
I continued the momentum. “infact I loved you looking your mother…she is so gorgeous a lady. She is so charming. She looks as if she is only 30 now, I wonder how she used to look when she was eighteen. She almost resembles your elder sister. Is she is your real mother or step one? Sushi…sushi…is she your step mother?”
She didn’t reply…I didn’t pester, I continued. Sushi I am going. I know your mother don’t tolerate me. She is overtaken by the rumors that my detesters spread. I am not a flirt sushi, I never flirt with anybody, let aside touch one. But your mother will not understand. She does not know how much I respect her. You have got a lovely mother. Convey her my pranam, but not before I leave this city. I know, she wont believe me. But still, tell her, I respect her as goddess kali…ok, it may not sound good, tell her, I respect her as goddess durga.”
I could hear her deep breath. But she didn’t talk to me.
“sushi, I am going. I love you, as I loved your mother…bye…bye bye…”
I ran out from the room crying.
The next morning, my sister called me up. Saying sushi’s mother has come to meet me. I rubbed my eyes and met her in the drawing room. She blessed me, invited me for a dinner and complained why don’t I come to their house?
Needless to say, I go now regularly.
Sushi wonders, how come the tide changed. I didn’t disclose to her, will never disclose that, that day when I saw her mother entering sushi’s room, I took the opportunity and flaunted my theater days experience.
What dialogues I gave that day, pretending I didn’t understood it was sushi’s mother and not sushi.
And for my personal opinion, I give a fuck to that daughter of a bitch, and also to the granddaughter of the bitch. People are still in doubt whether Sushi is her father's daughter!
That day when sushi was wondering, what had happened to her mother, I stopped her. took her into my arms and rolled into the bed. Sushi’s mother had gone to the harishava for Krishna-naam. This she everyday does, after I enter the house.
And soon we both were in our birthday dress.
Thursday, December 15, 2005
SMS Joke
This is not mine, somebody forwarded it to me. thought it a duty to salute the creativity.
BOND meets an Andhra guy...
James Bond: "my name's BOND...(smiles and then says) James Bond...and you?
Andhraguy: i am sai...
venkata sai...
siva venkata sai...
laxminarayna siva venkata sai...
srinivasulu laxminarayna siva venkata sai...
rajasekhara srinivasulu laxminarayna siva venkata sai...
sitaramanjaneyulu rajasekhara srinivasulu laxminarayna siva venkata sai...
bommiraju sitaramanjaneyulu rajasekhara srinivasulu laxminarayna siva venkata sai...
and thus BOND faints.
BOND meets an Andhra guy...
James Bond: "my name's BOND...(smiles and then says) James Bond...and you?
Andhraguy: i am sai...
venkata sai...
siva venkata sai...
laxminarayna siva venkata sai...
srinivasulu laxminarayna siva venkata sai...
rajasekhara srinivasulu laxminarayna siva venkata sai...
sitaramanjaneyulu rajasekhara srinivasulu laxminarayna siva venkata sai...
bommiraju sitaramanjaneyulu rajasekhara srinivasulu laxminarayna siva venkata sai...
and thus BOND faints.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
Life
We both didn’t talk for long. Both were sad. Me and Santanu.
I was slowly sipping the cocktail. Two shots of whisky with one of a gin and two hints of rum…sponsored by santanu. I needed a hard punch. Let my system get poisoned. May god not recover me from the shock.
Santanu’s long-term girlfriend Sohini getting married today. Santanu was sad. I could see the loss on his face. I was sadder, there was no mirror nearby to see my expressions. Santanu is a very dear friend of mine. We grew up together. Saw our first adult movie together.
I tried to comfort him, “have a sip man..you will forget your pain.”
--no, I won’t friend. At least today I will not. I have to do a lot of work now. Its ok if my family knows that I am drunk, but Sohini’s parents should not. It will be a disgrace. I don’t want them to realise anything.”
I understood. I didn’t pestered him. I suddenly remembered devdas.
Santanu closed his eyes in pain, “time is ticking by. I am going to lose everything. I swear I will not be the same as I used to be. I will change my friend. Evrything will be lost by then.”
--yaa, I understand. Change is inevitable.
“I am gonna lose evrything”, he sinked further into his sorrowness.
I patted him on his back, “mard ban, be a man…”
--yaa, I need to be. But friend I am going away from this place. I will start living in himalayas. I will miss you all.
--don’t worry. You can always get back to us via phone. The world is too small, we wil also miss you dost.
--take care of my parents.
--sure.
He sounded like an introvert, “I love sohini”
“me too…, “ said I, in a whispering tone.
--you said anything…
--no, nothing really. Punch is hard.
--friend …everything is getting lost with every passing moment. The load is getting heavier. Like a stone tied on my chest. I am losing my existence. Just a few hours left. You will see, I will be changed into a complete stranger to you. Don’t blame me for that friend.
--sure, I understand.
Next half an hour went pass in complete silence.
Santanu was changing with every passing minute. The lines on his face was getting harder and harder. As if he is preparing himself for a great battle.
Or was it the drink? I had gulped four pegs by then.
Suddenly santanu sprang up from the sofa.
“but why should I change…”
--yes, thattttsssss the QuesTIon. WHy shOULd yoU chANge…”
--why should I change for a girl. Yes it’s true that I had loved her. I love her, but why should I change myyself for a girl?” he protested.
Again he relapsed into his old thoughts, “I am going to the himalays my friend…”
I couldn’t utter a single word. I was morbid. I gulped the peg at one go.
There was a knock at the door. Somebody came and told something to santanu.
He came to me and said, “you carry on drinking my friend. I have to go now. These people will not understand my pain. I ahev to go to the market to fetch some goodies. Before her marriage, sohini also want to talk to me. I have to call her. After tonight…” he sighed.
I raised my glass, “before going, have a peg, just gulp it, it is smooth..”
--Not today yaar. Goodbye.
He left the room.
Go, go my friend. So what if you are losing your freedom? So what if you don’t remain that carefree, dare-devil friend of us? So what if your life is going to chanmge for ever? So what if you are no more the same santanu we treasure? So what if you don’t remain a bachelor anymore?
All cons are outweighed by one pro…YOU ARE GETTING SOHINI.
Next to aishwarya rai if there is anybody in my life, that’s sohini, your would be wife.
I loved you sohini. I tried to marry you sohini. Even today I tried to make santanu drunk. So that your parents refuse to marry you to a drunkard who drinks even on his marriage day. But I failed sohini. I am a complete failure in my life.
Santanu, I am not angry over you. I am only jealous.
Your nights will be spent in the arms of my darling sohini. What a nice heater you got this winter. My pillows are my only hope. I have to hug them even now, like I have hugged them for the last 12 years.
And how lucky bastard you are. You got a transfer to shimla. Bloody, people go there for honeymoon. Your company transferred you there with a promotion. Happy perpetual honeymoon dear. Bhagwan jaab deta hai, chappar phar ke deta hai. Bhogoban, tuni ekchokkhoo.
Happy marrieage my friend. Wish you a happy sex-life.
I was slowly sipping the cocktail. Two shots of whisky with one of a gin and two hints of rum…sponsored by santanu. I needed a hard punch. Let my system get poisoned. May god not recover me from the shock.
Santanu’s long-term girlfriend Sohini getting married today. Santanu was sad. I could see the loss on his face. I was sadder, there was no mirror nearby to see my expressions. Santanu is a very dear friend of mine. We grew up together. Saw our first adult movie together.
I tried to comfort him, “have a sip man..you will forget your pain.”
--no, I won’t friend. At least today I will not. I have to do a lot of work now. Its ok if my family knows that I am drunk, but Sohini’s parents should not. It will be a disgrace. I don’t want them to realise anything.”
I understood. I didn’t pestered him. I suddenly remembered devdas.
Santanu closed his eyes in pain, “time is ticking by. I am going to lose everything. I swear I will not be the same as I used to be. I will change my friend. Evrything will be lost by then.”
--yaa, I understand. Change is inevitable.
“I am gonna lose evrything”, he sinked further into his sorrowness.
I patted him on his back, “mard ban, be a man…”
--yaa, I need to be. But friend I am going away from this place. I will start living in himalayas. I will miss you all.
--don’t worry. You can always get back to us via phone. The world is too small, we wil also miss you dost.
--take care of my parents.
--sure.
He sounded like an introvert, “I love sohini”
“me too…, “ said I, in a whispering tone.
--you said anything…
--no, nothing really. Punch is hard.
--friend …everything is getting lost with every passing moment. The load is getting heavier. Like a stone tied on my chest. I am losing my existence. Just a few hours left. You will see, I will be changed into a complete stranger to you. Don’t blame me for that friend.
--sure, I understand.
Next half an hour went pass in complete silence.
Santanu was changing with every passing minute. The lines on his face was getting harder and harder. As if he is preparing himself for a great battle.
Or was it the drink? I had gulped four pegs by then.
Suddenly santanu sprang up from the sofa.
“but why should I change…”
--yes, thattttsssss the QuesTIon. WHy shOULd yoU chANge…”
--why should I change for a girl. Yes it’s true that I had loved her. I love her, but why should I change myyself for a girl?” he protested.
Again he relapsed into his old thoughts, “I am going to the himalays my friend…”
I couldn’t utter a single word. I was morbid. I gulped the peg at one go.
There was a knock at the door. Somebody came and told something to santanu.
He came to me and said, “you carry on drinking my friend. I have to go now. These people will not understand my pain. I ahev to go to the market to fetch some goodies. Before her marriage, sohini also want to talk to me. I have to call her. After tonight…” he sighed.
I raised my glass, “before going, have a peg, just gulp it, it is smooth..”
--Not today yaar. Goodbye.
He left the room.
Go, go my friend. So what if you are losing your freedom? So what if you don’t remain that carefree, dare-devil friend of us? So what if your life is going to chanmge for ever? So what if you are no more the same santanu we treasure? So what if you don’t remain a bachelor anymore?
All cons are outweighed by one pro…YOU ARE GETTING SOHINI.
Next to aishwarya rai if there is anybody in my life, that’s sohini, your would be wife.
I loved you sohini. I tried to marry you sohini. Even today I tried to make santanu drunk. So that your parents refuse to marry you to a drunkard who drinks even on his marriage day. But I failed sohini. I am a complete failure in my life.
Santanu, I am not angry over you. I am only jealous.
Your nights will be spent in the arms of my darling sohini. What a nice heater you got this winter. My pillows are my only hope. I have to hug them even now, like I have hugged them for the last 12 years.
And how lucky bastard you are. You got a transfer to shimla. Bloody, people go there for honeymoon. Your company transferred you there with a promotion. Happy perpetual honeymoon dear. Bhagwan jaab deta hai, chappar phar ke deta hai. Bhogoban, tuni ekchokkhoo.
Happy marrieage my friend. Wish you a happy sex-life.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Comrade
After much dramabaji, U.S. terrorized the world with its much hyped ‘fight against terror’ and attacked Saddam’s Iraq.
The world was astonished to see the fireworks of U.S. in Iraq. My stupid sister stopped watching saas bhi…, saying cnn is a much much bigger entertainer. My nephew, intelligent creature as he is, unearthed the ploy of his parents not buying him crackers and hiding the fact that diwali was on.
The news shook the world and nobody was shaken as much as Calcutta university’s student union. Some of our student federation members stopped shaving in protest until they became al-queda members lookalike. However, when they found the clolonial powers, the capitalist rascals, the bloody fascists are not going to leave Iraq in the foreseeable future and they are slowly turning into the mythical parashuram after crossing the rabindranath phase, they decided to walk for the barber shop.
But that was after months that our comrades in Calcutta decided to take over the colonials.
Soon after the news came that the bloody westerners have invaded iraq, we, members of the students wing of our party convened an emergency meeting in our university meeting room.
I was doing my post graduation that time. And my work was to write awakening speeches for the ignoring and sleeping students of our country which when uttered by our general secretary rudranil, became fiery words that would hit the idiotic, careerist students.
We, all the members of the student’s party of Calcutta university gathered at the union room. Rudra started (I wrote it in five minutes), “comrades, the fascist, capitalist powers of the world has put their bloody hands once again on the innocent masses of the world. We have tolerated enough. We have allowed them to invade Vietnam, because we knew, they would have to bite the dust, and they did, we have allowed them to show their vulgar red eye on cuba, which ultimately burnt their eyelids, we allowed them to bomb japan…we allowed them to bomb afganisthan, which has ultimately became a boomerang for them…”, somebody intervened “like in the case of Russia…” , suddenly he stopped, for citing the wrong example.
After a few seconds silence, rudra continued, “…comrades but this time we will not allow these demons to wreck havoc, we will not allow them to play with the modesty of our sisters in iraq, we will not allow them to blow up our children there…we will fightback.”
Moments silence, the hall burst into claps.
“comrades, we will crush the black hands of the oppressors, we, the students, along with the working class people of the world will show them that the world is with iraq. We will force them to leave our Iraqi proletariat brothers to their own fate…we will repulse the oppressors.” Again the hall burst out in loud claps.
‘comrades, to start with we have chalked out some plan…’ (yaa I know, all those plans were mine). “…we have ordered for two thousands rotten eggs and a dozen baskets of rotten tomatoes…” (hey hey hey…what do you mean). “…comrades, like America has invaded iraq, we, will invade American embassy…” (hold on…hold on…I didn’t write that, what the fuck are you saying!). “…comrades we will pelt American embassy with those natural missiles…” (holy fucking jesus!) “…and I need you comrades…we, the students of Calcutta university and other colleges, will march towards the american embassy, I need men-at-arms. Volunteers, comrades, raise your hands.”
And nobody raised their hands. “…comrades, I cant believe my eyes…comrades, don’t remain ignorant…comrades, comeon….” still everybody was reluctant. “…ok, its an order”.
And then somebody raised a doubt. “Don’t you think, there will be strict vigil? I mean black cat security. I have heard they are merciless.”
Rudra howled at him, “do you think they have the balls to touch us, under the chief ministership of buddhababu, just one phone call and they will be transferred to sunderbans. At the most we will go to the jail, don’t worry our leaders in alimuddin street will rescue us in no time, if at all.”
The hall again burst into loud claps. This time louder than ever. Everybody started chanting, fascist, colonists power go back…cpm jindabad, sfi jindabad. All the workers-farmers-proletariat unite…unite, crush the black hands of the opressors.
And so we marched towards the American embassy in park street. Our voice cracked defiling americans.
When we reached near park street, from a distance we saw black cat commandoes (looked like wild, hungry dogs, ready to pounce). And a cordon of machine gunners, besides a swarm of khaki wearing pot-bellied Bengal police waiting for any invader.
Our, including rudra’s voice mellowed down. Still then we marched towards the embassy (by then I have folded my red flag and put it into my pocket, I had already thrown away the stick near esplanade).
What was a chaotic procession turned into a satyagrahi one once we reached in front of the embassy gate. I looked back to see that eighty percent of our comrades had vanished by then.
We saw a six-foot tall sikh military man coming to us. “don’t you dare do anything…no fun today right.” His baritone voice chilled our spine. “…you understood?”
I had understood by then, I wasted no time to desert my comrades to the opposite footpath and disappeared in the crowd.
But rudra, didn’t understood. After five minutes standing there in silence, he realized his prestige is at stake. “comrades…” he tried to shout, but his voice cracked.
“lets come to our original agenda, he pulled out an egg from the van, that we were pulling, comrades…what are you waiting for…this is our golden chance, this is the hour of justice…” he tried to motivate his fleeing army.
Again ten minutes passed. As a true captain he shot the first missile. A slow one though. It just managed to land near the sikh’s left foot. Near the boundary wall of the embassy.
The sikh military man, along with his accomplices ran to rudra like madmen, raising their lathis high above.
The remaining comrades ran in a frenzy for their life.
Thaaappp… the lathi hit rudra’s fleeing butt. Before fainting he managed to utter “bande mataram, jai hind.” Police threw his unconscious body into the van like they threw a haystack.
Rudra spent the next seven days in police station. Nobody called the police. Nobody was transferred to sundarbans. His poor worried parents, with all their savings hired a famous lawyer and bailed him out.
I went the third day to the police station to meet him. It seemed police had given him some welcoming notes after he gained consciousness. He was badly bruised with dark eyes. And he couldn’t sit also. His ass was paining like hell after that lathicharge.
“deserter…” it was the first word he uttered after seeing me. “no I am not, belive me. I swear…see my left calf, its swollen, they also beat me,” I showed him the blackened spot that I received when that bastard madhu fouled me while playing football evening past evening.
He glee, “so they have beaten you also comrade…”
“yes comrade, they spared none…”
He was happy, grinning he said, “so we managed to show them what is the result of showing big-brother attitude.”
“sure comrade,” I said.
“you will see, I will soon become the district-level member of our party, then will go to the politburo, than mla-ship, then I will be the chief minister one day…well at least police minister, and I will transfer that bugger to sunderbans.”
“sure comrade, you will. We will not spare them for their barbaric attitude.”
After much deliberation I browsed the topic, “comrade, we have decided after you are released, we will raid the british deputy commisioner’s office.”
Rudra shriekd, “why?”
“No that was your agenda…,” I reminded him.
“No, no, no… one was enough.”
“but our brothers in iraq are dyeing…”
Suddenly, it seemed to me, his butt pained, he grimaced in pain, “let them die, let them die, bloody bomb is better than lathi…” then he corrected himself, “let me get out first, we will chalk out another plan. Attacking british commissioner’s office is not that good idea comrade, we will try out some more drastic measures.”
Relieved, I came out from the police-station.
There were no drastic measures taken. Except organized meeting and more public meetings which was limited to our university compound (police cautioned him not to give speeches outside university campus). And in every meeting rudra bore an expression as if netaji subhas is addressing azad hind fauz. He was a hero overnight.
We organized a nation-wide bandh. it was very successful. Life in Bengal, kerala and tripura halted to a stand-still (we really don’t care about other states. They have not awakened yet.)
Rudra got a promotion in the party. He is now the in-charge of gathering awakened mass-crowd from the interior villages. The awakened crowd gets a free tour-de-calcutta on a van, besides bread-egg-banana for breakfast, hodge-podge for lunch and a 100 rupee note. Those who are not awakened yet, rudra and his volunteers go with pistols and bombs and make them awakened. He is a well known public figure by now. Elections are empty without his watchful eyes. He is a master of rigging votes. Its an art, that he has mastered. I respect him. He is my hero.
I want to be a rudra one day.
P.S. this is purely fictional with no affiliation to anybody. all the characters and incidences are imaginative. discretion of 'awakened' readers are requested. kindly adjust.
The world was astonished to see the fireworks of U.S. in Iraq. My stupid sister stopped watching saas bhi…, saying cnn is a much much bigger entertainer. My nephew, intelligent creature as he is, unearthed the ploy of his parents not buying him crackers and hiding the fact that diwali was on.
The news shook the world and nobody was shaken as much as Calcutta university’s student union. Some of our student federation members stopped shaving in protest until they became al-queda members lookalike. However, when they found the clolonial powers, the capitalist rascals, the bloody fascists are not going to leave Iraq in the foreseeable future and they are slowly turning into the mythical parashuram after crossing the rabindranath phase, they decided to walk for the barber shop.
But that was after months that our comrades in Calcutta decided to take over the colonials.
Soon after the news came that the bloody westerners have invaded iraq, we, members of the students wing of our party convened an emergency meeting in our university meeting room.
I was doing my post graduation that time. And my work was to write awakening speeches for the ignoring and sleeping students of our country which when uttered by our general secretary rudranil, became fiery words that would hit the idiotic, careerist students.
We, all the members of the student’s party of Calcutta university gathered at the union room. Rudra started (I wrote it in five minutes), “comrades, the fascist, capitalist powers of the world has put their bloody hands once again on the innocent masses of the world. We have tolerated enough. We have allowed them to invade Vietnam, because we knew, they would have to bite the dust, and they did, we have allowed them to show their vulgar red eye on cuba, which ultimately burnt their eyelids, we allowed them to bomb japan…we allowed them to bomb afganisthan, which has ultimately became a boomerang for them…”, somebody intervened “like in the case of Russia…” , suddenly he stopped, for citing the wrong example.
After a few seconds silence, rudra continued, “…comrades but this time we will not allow these demons to wreck havoc, we will not allow them to play with the modesty of our sisters in iraq, we will not allow them to blow up our children there…we will fightback.”
Moments silence, the hall burst into claps.
“comrades, we will crush the black hands of the oppressors, we, the students, along with the working class people of the world will show them that the world is with iraq. We will force them to leave our Iraqi proletariat brothers to their own fate…we will repulse the oppressors.” Again the hall burst out in loud claps.
‘comrades, to start with we have chalked out some plan…’ (yaa I know, all those plans were mine). “…we have ordered for two thousands rotten eggs and a dozen baskets of rotten tomatoes…” (hey hey hey…what do you mean). “…comrades, like America has invaded iraq, we, will invade American embassy…” (hold on…hold on…I didn’t write that, what the fuck are you saying!). “…comrades we will pelt American embassy with those natural missiles…” (holy fucking jesus!) “…and I need you comrades…we, the students of Calcutta university and other colleges, will march towards the american embassy, I need men-at-arms. Volunteers, comrades, raise your hands.”
And nobody raised their hands. “…comrades, I cant believe my eyes…comrades, don’t remain ignorant…comrades, comeon….” still everybody was reluctant. “…ok, its an order”.
And then somebody raised a doubt. “Don’t you think, there will be strict vigil? I mean black cat security. I have heard they are merciless.”
Rudra howled at him, “do you think they have the balls to touch us, under the chief ministership of buddhababu, just one phone call and they will be transferred to sunderbans. At the most we will go to the jail, don’t worry our leaders in alimuddin street will rescue us in no time, if at all.”
The hall again burst into loud claps. This time louder than ever. Everybody started chanting, fascist, colonists power go back…cpm jindabad, sfi jindabad. All the workers-farmers-proletariat unite…unite, crush the black hands of the opressors.
And so we marched towards the American embassy in park street. Our voice cracked defiling americans.
When we reached near park street, from a distance we saw black cat commandoes (looked like wild, hungry dogs, ready to pounce). And a cordon of machine gunners, besides a swarm of khaki wearing pot-bellied Bengal police waiting for any invader.
Our, including rudra’s voice mellowed down. Still then we marched towards the embassy (by then I have folded my red flag and put it into my pocket, I had already thrown away the stick near esplanade).
What was a chaotic procession turned into a satyagrahi one once we reached in front of the embassy gate. I looked back to see that eighty percent of our comrades had vanished by then.
We saw a six-foot tall sikh military man coming to us. “don’t you dare do anything…no fun today right.” His baritone voice chilled our spine. “…you understood?”
I had understood by then, I wasted no time to desert my comrades to the opposite footpath and disappeared in the crowd.
But rudra, didn’t understood. After five minutes standing there in silence, he realized his prestige is at stake. “comrades…” he tried to shout, but his voice cracked.
“lets come to our original agenda, he pulled out an egg from the van, that we were pulling, comrades…what are you waiting for…this is our golden chance, this is the hour of justice…” he tried to motivate his fleeing army.
Again ten minutes passed. As a true captain he shot the first missile. A slow one though. It just managed to land near the sikh’s left foot. Near the boundary wall of the embassy.
The sikh military man, along with his accomplices ran to rudra like madmen, raising their lathis high above.
The remaining comrades ran in a frenzy for their life.
Thaaappp… the lathi hit rudra’s fleeing butt. Before fainting he managed to utter “bande mataram, jai hind.” Police threw his unconscious body into the van like they threw a haystack.
Rudra spent the next seven days in police station. Nobody called the police. Nobody was transferred to sundarbans. His poor worried parents, with all their savings hired a famous lawyer and bailed him out.
I went the third day to the police station to meet him. It seemed police had given him some welcoming notes after he gained consciousness. He was badly bruised with dark eyes. And he couldn’t sit also. His ass was paining like hell after that lathicharge.
“deserter…” it was the first word he uttered after seeing me. “no I am not, belive me. I swear…see my left calf, its swollen, they also beat me,” I showed him the blackened spot that I received when that bastard madhu fouled me while playing football evening past evening.
He glee, “so they have beaten you also comrade…”
“yes comrade, they spared none…”
He was happy, grinning he said, “so we managed to show them what is the result of showing big-brother attitude.”
“sure comrade,” I said.
“you will see, I will soon become the district-level member of our party, then will go to the politburo, than mla-ship, then I will be the chief minister one day…well at least police minister, and I will transfer that bugger to sunderbans.”
“sure comrade, you will. We will not spare them for their barbaric attitude.”
After much deliberation I browsed the topic, “comrade, we have decided after you are released, we will raid the british deputy commisioner’s office.”
Rudra shriekd, “why?”
“No that was your agenda…,” I reminded him.
“No, no, no… one was enough.”
“but our brothers in iraq are dyeing…”
Suddenly, it seemed to me, his butt pained, he grimaced in pain, “let them die, let them die, bloody bomb is better than lathi…” then he corrected himself, “let me get out first, we will chalk out another plan. Attacking british commissioner’s office is not that good idea comrade, we will try out some more drastic measures.”
Relieved, I came out from the police-station.
There were no drastic measures taken. Except organized meeting and more public meetings which was limited to our university compound (police cautioned him not to give speeches outside university campus). And in every meeting rudra bore an expression as if netaji subhas is addressing azad hind fauz. He was a hero overnight.
We organized a nation-wide bandh. it was very successful. Life in Bengal, kerala and tripura halted to a stand-still (we really don’t care about other states. They have not awakened yet.)
Rudra got a promotion in the party. He is now the in-charge of gathering awakened mass-crowd from the interior villages. The awakened crowd gets a free tour-de-calcutta on a van, besides bread-egg-banana for breakfast, hodge-podge for lunch and a 100 rupee note. Those who are not awakened yet, rudra and his volunteers go with pistols and bombs and make them awakened. He is a well known public figure by now. Elections are empty without his watchful eyes. He is a master of rigging votes. Its an art, that he has mastered. I respect him. He is my hero.
I want to be a rudra one day.
P.S. this is purely fictional with no affiliation to anybody. all the characters and incidences are imaginative. discretion of 'awakened' readers are requested. kindly adjust.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Kaun banega karorpati...dwitiya
--Namaste, satsriakaal, aadab, mein amitabh bacchan aapke samne, leke hajir hua hu, phir ek bar, kaun banega karorpati dwitiya.
(audiences in dark start clapping along with a music as if crusader king Richard of England just captured the castle of a jehadi king)
Aaj, mere samne beithe hai Jarshad kakiara…kakku…cuckoo…
(a club-shaped man intervenes, with a child-like smile, “Kakkrakandy”)
Ji haa, kakkara (“kandy”, the man again intervenes with a shy smile)
-Yes, Jarshad kakk…, whatever, aiye aap aur hum khele yeh adbhut game, jiska naam hei …(looks at the club-shaped man)
Jarshad Kakkrakandy, answers “kauun banayega karrorrpatti”
Amitabh shows Jarshad the seat, adjusts the seat for him. Jarshad sits, the chair shrieks.
--aur abhi mere samne baithe hain Jarshad n. k., from Chennai, who is a journalist with reuters, loves reading dilbert, unka favourite movie hai “chandramukhi”. And he is the self-proclaimed ‘king of PJ’.
--Haan to Jarshad saab, aapne likhe hein ke apke naam hei Jarshad n.k. now what does this n.k. stands for?
--(Jarshad takes out a paper from his wallet) actually I have also to see it, I forgot. Jarshad starts reading “n stands for nu…”
--are choriye saab, naam me kya rakha hai., aap to tamil songs ka fan hei, kuch humko bhi gake sunaiye.
--no no I am a very bad singer
--please, please kakku.
--ok (Jarshad, clears his throat) randaka randaka randaka randaka…
--wah wah wah, kya baat hai…
--but I didn’t finish
--you don’t need to, we understood what would be the end of it.
--you watch movies?
--I do (Jarshad smiles)
--who is your favourite actor (amitabh adjusts his coat, eyes down, smiling mildly)
--who else, one and only rajnikath.
--what? (Big B springs up from his seat) that bus conductor?
--(Jarshad stands up from his seat), bastard…
--haai? Aamma aap to gussa ho gaye miyan. (big b looks startled)
--what’s your rate you clown?
--my rate Jarshad saab? you must have been a fan of george Michael isn’t it?
--yes I am, careless whisper…(attempts to sing)
--no wonder
Suddenly Jarshad remembers the old argument, he fights back , “you know, rajni is the highest paid artist in asia, people from japan comes to see his movies?
--I know Japanese can die for cartoons.
--didn’t get you
--don’t need to, aiye saab, mithe takrar to hote hi rahegi, chaliye game start karte hai.
--yaa, please do, please do, do it now
(Big B looks at the player in hot seat for amazement, search for the invisible security cordon and secret gateways, tightens his belt).
Ok, to pehla sawal jo dega aapko ek hazaar rupey…aap game ka rule to jantehi honge…phir bhi aapko
--I know I know, do it fast
--ok, to pehla sawal yeh raha aapke computer screen pe (tha-ra-ra-re)
--tote ka rang kya hota hai? A, laal, b hara, c pila or d gulabi? A, red, b green, c yellow or is it d pink?
--b green.
--Confident?
Jarshad smiles.
--lock kar diya jaye?
--yaa
--computerji, b green pe…soch lijiye Jarshad saab, aapke teeno life line abhibhi bacha hei.
--what man I am telling you I am sure, lock it
--lekin aap acche khel raha hai saab, are you sure tota khali hara hi hote hai? Didn’t you see a Macau?
Jarshad’s smile vapours. He frowns. “yaa, I have but…”
--to kya kiya jaye Jarshad saab? Aapke ke paas abhibhi teeno lifeline bache hai, you go for audience poll, phone a friend…
--phone a friend
--ok, whom do you want to call?
--feroze jamal.
(hello feroze saab, mein amitabh bacchan bol raha hu kaun banega krorepati se, aapke dost Jarshad kakk….i mean j.n.k is seating in the hot seat., Jarshad saab, aapka samay suru hota hai aab)
--hello feroze, my ass is on fire…(then they start talking in some unintelligible language. !@#@@@@%%% A, red, b green, c yellow , %&&&)((_) d pink)
(the voice of the friend comes faintly, but confident) I think its b green.
--sure
-*-sure
--did rajni start shooting, the heroine is a bit old isn’t it, she’s 24, doesn’t match with the ever-green rajni.
-*-yaa this is the talk of the town
(bugle sounds)
--jarshad saab aapka samay khatam hua, to aap kaun sa option lena chate hai?
--I told you no, bugger you wasted my time. It’s the consensus.
--kaise gande gande bate karte hei aap Jarshad shab, jab mera pet kharab huya tha aur me leelabati mein bharti tha, tab mera pet ka bayu bhi itna ganda nahi tha…jara shadgi saab.
--bugger, talk less and work more, I know what was the eps and net income distributed to stockholders was of abcl.
--ok, Jarshad saab to lock kar diya jaye, computer ji, b green pet ala laga diya jaye.
For a moment, 80 million audiences glued to the tv screen thought amitabh has again started developing stomach ailment. Audiences put their hands on their nose as precaution.
--ugh…uhhh…uhhhhhh…Jarshad kakkurruu…afsosh ye galad jawab.
--what are you saying bastard, I will chop your balls off, don’t try to outking the king of pj.
(big b recovers from the shock)
--Jarshad kukkunur, woh tota laal tha!
[darkness, thararararara (sound effect, looking down from the castle, king Richard saw, jehadi arab king is screwing richard’s queen in the stable)
(audiences in dark start clapping along with a music as if crusader king Richard of England just captured the castle of a jehadi king)
Aaj, mere samne beithe hai Jarshad kakiara…kakku…cuckoo…
(a club-shaped man intervenes, with a child-like smile, “Kakkrakandy”)
Ji haa, kakkara (“kandy”, the man again intervenes with a shy smile)
-Yes, Jarshad kakk…, whatever, aiye aap aur hum khele yeh adbhut game, jiska naam hei …(looks at the club-shaped man)
Jarshad Kakkrakandy, answers “kauun banayega karrorrpatti”
Amitabh shows Jarshad the seat, adjusts the seat for him. Jarshad sits, the chair shrieks.
--aur abhi mere samne baithe hain Jarshad n. k., from Chennai, who is a journalist with reuters, loves reading dilbert, unka favourite movie hai “chandramukhi”. And he is the self-proclaimed ‘king of PJ’.
--Haan to Jarshad saab, aapne likhe hein ke apke naam hei Jarshad n.k. now what does this n.k. stands for?
--(Jarshad takes out a paper from his wallet) actually I have also to see it, I forgot. Jarshad starts reading “n stands for nu…”
--are choriye saab, naam me kya rakha hai., aap to tamil songs ka fan hei, kuch humko bhi gake sunaiye.
--no no I am a very bad singer
--please, please kakku.
--ok (Jarshad, clears his throat) randaka randaka randaka randaka…
--wah wah wah, kya baat hai…
--but I didn’t finish
--you don’t need to, we understood what would be the end of it.
--you watch movies?
--I do (Jarshad smiles)
--who is your favourite actor (amitabh adjusts his coat, eyes down, smiling mildly)
--who else, one and only rajnikath.
--what? (Big B springs up from his seat) that bus conductor?
--(Jarshad stands up from his seat), bastard…
--haai? Aamma aap to gussa ho gaye miyan. (big b looks startled)
--what’s your rate you clown?
--my rate Jarshad saab? you must have been a fan of george Michael isn’t it?
--yes I am, careless whisper…(attempts to sing)
--no wonder
Suddenly Jarshad remembers the old argument, he fights back , “you know, rajni is the highest paid artist in asia, people from japan comes to see his movies?
--I know Japanese can die for cartoons.
--didn’t get you
--don’t need to, aiye saab, mithe takrar to hote hi rahegi, chaliye game start karte hai.
--yaa, please do, please do, do it now
(Big B looks at the player in hot seat for amazement, search for the invisible security cordon and secret gateways, tightens his belt).
Ok, to pehla sawal jo dega aapko ek hazaar rupey…aap game ka rule to jantehi honge…phir bhi aapko
--I know I know, do it fast
--ok, to pehla sawal yeh raha aapke computer screen pe (tha-ra-ra-re)
--tote ka rang kya hota hai? A, laal, b hara, c pila or d gulabi? A, red, b green, c yellow or is it d pink?
--b green.
--Confident?
Jarshad smiles.
--lock kar diya jaye?
--yaa
--computerji, b green pe…soch lijiye Jarshad saab, aapke teeno life line abhibhi bacha hei.
--what man I am telling you I am sure, lock it
--lekin aap acche khel raha hai saab, are you sure tota khali hara hi hote hai? Didn’t you see a Macau?
Jarshad’s smile vapours. He frowns. “yaa, I have but…”
--to kya kiya jaye Jarshad saab? Aapke ke paas abhibhi teeno lifeline bache hai, you go for audience poll, phone a friend…
--phone a friend
--ok, whom do you want to call?
--feroze jamal.
(hello feroze saab, mein amitabh bacchan bol raha hu kaun banega krorepati se, aapke dost Jarshad kakk….i mean j.n.k is seating in the hot seat., Jarshad saab, aapka samay suru hota hai aab)
--hello feroze, my ass is on fire…(then they start talking in some unintelligible language. !@#@@@@%%% A, red, b green, c yellow , %&&&)((_) d pink)
(the voice of the friend comes faintly, but confident) I think its b green.
--sure
-*-sure
--did rajni start shooting, the heroine is a bit old isn’t it, she’s 24, doesn’t match with the ever-green rajni.
-*-yaa this is the talk of the town
(bugle sounds)
--jarshad saab aapka samay khatam hua, to aap kaun sa option lena chate hai?
--I told you no, bugger you wasted my time. It’s the consensus.
--kaise gande gande bate karte hei aap Jarshad shab, jab mera pet kharab huya tha aur me leelabati mein bharti tha, tab mera pet ka bayu bhi itna ganda nahi tha…jara shadgi saab.
--bugger, talk less and work more, I know what was the eps and net income distributed to stockholders was of abcl.
--ok, Jarshad saab to lock kar diya jaye, computer ji, b green pet ala laga diya jaye.
For a moment, 80 million audiences glued to the tv screen thought amitabh has again started developing stomach ailment. Audiences put their hands on their nose as precaution.
--ugh…uhhh…uhhhhhh…Jarshad kakkurruu…afsosh ye galad jawab.
--what are you saying bastard, I will chop your balls off, don’t try to outking the king of pj.
(big b recovers from the shock)
--Jarshad kukkunur, woh tota laal tha!
[darkness, thararararara (sound effect, looking down from the castle, king Richard saw, jehadi arab king is screwing richard’s queen in the stable)
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Prisoner of the Heaven
The sugarcane vendor went pass my window. I suddenly remembered my childhood days when I used to chew the sweet sugarcanes with my sister, sitting in the verandah. Quickly I put on my shirt and called him.
The van stopped. I choose one nice sugarcane piece, gave him five rupees. Before I move on, I saw the boy standing, holding the van. Looking like a glutton to the pieces. His dresses were shabby. He couldn’t afford to enjoy the sweet juices even if he was dyeing for it.
I felt it disgraceful to enjoy one without giving to somebody who deserves it the most. I offered him one. He violently shook his head, but later on agreed after some persuasion.
I gave him the choice to pick any piece he liked.
He grabbed one. Before I could pay, he pronounced, “I have got a sister, she likes sugarcanes.”
I nodded “sure, take one more.” His house was nearby, standing there he called her, “Jasmine come quickly, sugarcanes.”
The charming little girl ran out of the house along with a gang of ten to twelve.
She took one. I was shocked to discover the dozen pairs of expecting eyes piercing through my face.
I offered each of them one. Somebody, only to get sure, cross-checked “free?”
I did the mistake of saying “sure”.
Than the heaven broke loose, each member starting calling their friends and kins “akhtar, amina, jamal come come…sugarcane for free.”, somebody yelled, “fahad, shakila, anjum, what are you waiting for? come fast, sugarcanes for free.”
And there started the flood of children, coming from all the corner of the street. I never realised my neighbourhood hosts so many juvenile members.
The van started shaking violently, under the seize of this mughal army. I was also shaking, I could feel my bp rising.
I instructed them to form a line. They stood in a very unorganised queue. I started giving handing them one cane pieces, it went for long before I could discover that actually each little brat is again coming back to the line after depositing the last cane they got to a safe place.
The vendor was having a difficult time keeping an account of his fortune. I pulled out from the operation sugarcane after handing him rs 150. that’s the price he charged for all his cane stock.
Before leaving I ordered him to distribute the rest of the canes in a just manner.
I gave a sigh of relief. I realised how president bush would sigh after pulling out from iraq and save his arse.
For the last couple of days, I was wondering whether to move out from my present address to a place close to my office.
It is too far from my office and the scene of beef-stalls makes me violently sick. I just cannot stand seeing the huge bulk of yellow meat whenever I move out from my house.
But the children started disturbing me again. This time waking me up from my sleep to play cricket with them or to act as a judge in their petty (serious to them) disputes.
Rashid would not leave me without hearing me praising about his newly-acquired cycle. Shayra regularly pesters me to come to her house to see the new gold-fish in her aquarium. And during the last eid there was a competition as who could take me in his or her house for the biryani. I had to listen to the special quality of the biryani that was prepared in individual houses.
And that day anjumam with her gang and her little toddler sister stormed into my house and wake me up. “uncle uncle, utho aaj mere behen ka birthday hei.” The toddler turned three that day. Anju offered me toffies. I took one, she forced me to take two. i felt like I was in heaven. I was dwelling into w paradise with my little angels.
I dropped my stupid plan of leaving my place. My angels won’t let me go. They have trapped me in a very strong net. I cannot break-free.
The van stopped. I choose one nice sugarcane piece, gave him five rupees. Before I move on, I saw the boy standing, holding the van. Looking like a glutton to the pieces. His dresses were shabby. He couldn’t afford to enjoy the sweet juices even if he was dyeing for it.
I felt it disgraceful to enjoy one without giving to somebody who deserves it the most. I offered him one. He violently shook his head, but later on agreed after some persuasion.
I gave him the choice to pick any piece he liked.
He grabbed one. Before I could pay, he pronounced, “I have got a sister, she likes sugarcanes.”
I nodded “sure, take one more.” His house was nearby, standing there he called her, “Jasmine come quickly, sugarcanes.”
The charming little girl ran out of the house along with a gang of ten to twelve.
She took one. I was shocked to discover the dozen pairs of expecting eyes piercing through my face.
I offered each of them one. Somebody, only to get sure, cross-checked “free?”
I did the mistake of saying “sure”.
Than the heaven broke loose, each member starting calling their friends and kins “akhtar, amina, jamal come come…sugarcane for free.”, somebody yelled, “fahad, shakila, anjum, what are you waiting for? come fast, sugarcanes for free.”
And there started the flood of children, coming from all the corner of the street. I never realised my neighbourhood hosts so many juvenile members.
The van started shaking violently, under the seize of this mughal army. I was also shaking, I could feel my bp rising.
I instructed them to form a line. They stood in a very unorganised queue. I started giving handing them one cane pieces, it went for long before I could discover that actually each little brat is again coming back to the line after depositing the last cane they got to a safe place.
The vendor was having a difficult time keeping an account of his fortune. I pulled out from the operation sugarcane after handing him rs 150. that’s the price he charged for all his cane stock.
Before leaving I ordered him to distribute the rest of the canes in a just manner.
I gave a sigh of relief. I realised how president bush would sigh after pulling out from iraq and save his arse.
For the last couple of days, I was wondering whether to move out from my present address to a place close to my office.
It is too far from my office and the scene of beef-stalls makes me violently sick. I just cannot stand seeing the huge bulk of yellow meat whenever I move out from my house.
But the children started disturbing me again. This time waking me up from my sleep to play cricket with them or to act as a judge in their petty (serious to them) disputes.
Rashid would not leave me without hearing me praising about his newly-acquired cycle. Shayra regularly pesters me to come to her house to see the new gold-fish in her aquarium. And during the last eid there was a competition as who could take me in his or her house for the biryani. I had to listen to the special quality of the biryani that was prepared in individual houses.
And that day anjumam with her gang and her little toddler sister stormed into my house and wake me up. “uncle uncle, utho aaj mere behen ka birthday hei.” The toddler turned three that day. Anju offered me toffies. I took one, she forced me to take two. i felt like I was in heaven. I was dwelling into w paradise with my little angels.
I dropped my stupid plan of leaving my place. My angels won’t let me go. They have trapped me in a very strong net. I cannot break-free.
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