There is no right or wrong, just consequences...

Kolkata footnotes :the probashi feels:

DISCLAIMER: The following content doesn’t describe the best places to eat or any tourism related content. I might write something about digestery (no such word) adventures.

On my last day of my unplanned extended so called vacation i finally sit to write something down after a heavy push from my high inertial self (surprisingly!). To begin with “Kolkata Footnotes” the term footnotes came into my mind for the want of less clinched and less bollywoody wanna be hollywoody use(hint: Dairies, no end to those!) “footnotes” has a simple explanation. We have been famously known as paye chaka deva (translation: wheels on feet) as far as my memory goes, i have been travelling to a new place almost every year since i was a few months. Each place is a sub chapter and Kolkata is footnote seen every now and then.

My stays in Kolkata have usually been short(very short according to dimu, no one can satiate her in terms of staying back at kol). Every visit is first welcomed with a short illness of some kind followed by irritated dad running around with a topping of fussy mom. A fast recovery of a day or two and then starts the relative visiting ritual. A probaashi bangali (NRB- non returning bong) or not, relative citation is a must. My visits are usually strenuous and tedious on the stomach muscles. Every relative one meets one has to devour a series of mishtis(Sweets) with a side plate of bengali samosas, beguni, neemki, teele bhaja, fish fry, mutton cutlet, kochuri, moglayi (drools). Even though while listing down my mouth waters, but when you have been made to sit through all this with minimum of four sweets, and have to go atleast three more houses and been offered food fit for a regiment and assumed to have an appetite as that of descendants of “kumbhakaran”, even a fist full of gelucil and digen won’t come to your rescue. Apart from the usual relative stuff, of whom she looks like and how small you had been there is nothing more to list down.

Coming to the city, i find Kolkata a small bundled up city, more like an ant colony seen at cross section (might be my Mumbai perspective). The city is dominated by narrow lanes and often will make you feel an outsider for the lack of knowledge of its lanes. The air of past hangs heavily over it. This time the whiff of nostalgia settled on me and i took to rampaging of old photos and dusty junk. Finding black and white photos, age stained photos, photos of high end parties, of gentlemen in suit and horn-rimmed glasses with whiskey and cigars, of ladies with elegant silk sarees and highbuns. I even found records of abba and boneym of old hindi songs and some Bengali too! Oh! How i wished i had a gramophone! The city i have always imagined with horse carts and vintage cars. People with suits and gowns with their little fragile umbrellas, people drinking tea with their little finger sticking out. What contributes more to the heavy air of nostalgia is the still existing trams, and hand rickshaws even cycle rickshaws.

Every street will have a tale of your grandparents or parents telling how they ate at that place or shopped on that corner. For me Kolkata is a city of tales, i relate places of this city with tales of others. When i was small people thought it amusing to ask me which city i like most, Mumbai or Calcutta.. even then i was more diplomatic than my age and i would sweetly answer both. But if you ask me truly i would ask you back, would you question whom you love more your biological mother, or the one that raised you? 

lehrein ayi, lehro mein beh gayi...

A song, a feeling, a scenery, a painting, few lights, a misunderstood joke, a lizard perhaps (i miss my marley) urges you to write a line or two may be. Suddenly while doing a very clerical and tedious job i stumble into a song which makes me want to write. An urge i had lost in the hum drum of this ordinary chaos. So 2014 is at an end, and one more circle completes of the many rings that forges into a man's life. It would be interesting if a man wore a chain forged by no. of years lived (i am sure the ladies would not approve of it!)
To review this year, is something that frightens me. A year of drama, of tears and happiness of shocks and despairs, of guilty pleasures and partying :D a mini TV serial, (a hindi soap drama for sure) A year of lost and found. I always get melancholy as the last week of the year approaches. Apprehensions of the coming year eats up the joy of a year successfully surviving with head over my shoulders. or may be it's just the blues. And sometimes life creeps you out when you have your friends boyfriend's misc tape and see his name and picture in album art (AWKWARD!) instead of Nickleback's.
I think my refill of writing has exhausted. I need to get a new refill from the inspiration shop hopefully he has one to fit my miracle writing pen. :/
CIAO!

sin or sacrifice?

behind the dark curtains and a room gloomier
a shade darker than it was earlier
someone lay there curled up and shriveled
eyes wide open with tears

that trickled
a sin or sacrifice it knew not
as the gloom threatened to take over with every sob
what of happy endings and cherry red flowers
what of rainbow and sunshine and happy ever afters
all seemed gone
all seemed dispaired
sin or sacrifice it knew not
everytime it tried to get up
sounds of past tormented it
curled in the corner back it went
whimpering to sleep of confusion
where it dreamt of dark rooms and gloomier curtains
sin or sacrifice it knew not

LOST

Never at peace she rests

A vagabond soul searching for what is best

Her journey took her to many places

Of frozen rivers and angry faces

At long last she sat under a tree

And realised the forest that accompanied her in all degrees

A bolt of thought came crashing down she

May be she had all in this forest that reached the sea

Of tall trees that looked down at her

With leaf like eyes glowing with fervor

Questioningly looked up with tilted head

It seemed to nod with a grave dread

Eagerly she stepped into

The cool calmness and tall solitude

She felt it, engulfing her with loving care

Oh! So hard she had tried getting this without a vanity fair

With building excitement she entered

A knot or two made her stumble, no matter what she always tethered

Entangled trees were handsomely patterned

A beautiful place and a lack of lantern

She needed a torch to see

But instead felt the depths of the forest calling thee

“Come”, it says

Let me guide you through my wilderness that lays

A turn wrong and she is lost

Some deer runs by with antlers frozen with frost

She smiles to herself as realisation dawns

She loves the forest so much than plain flat lawns

Lost in the complex beauty

Of foreboding instances and amusement that’s there in plenty

But she had declared the love for him

The moment she held his arm to walk within

If you still have not figured out

Which you are

Yes, you there reading with small eyes that dare

I am the girl and you are the forest

I am lost in you forever till i rest.

PS: If a writer loves you, you are immortalised ;) 

makhi meri jaan!

Disclainer: the following is a bucket load of rambling. proceed if interested. reader must read only if he/she have no self preservation of your sanity. read on crazy minds! 

To my regular readers (if there are any) you must be waiting for my customary post about the pre-rain , during rain and post- rains posts. Well, as the arrival of rains this time was late i was “khafa” (upset, zindagi serial effects) with the rain gods and posted it well into the monsoon. Apart from having self doubts about my writing abilities , all thanks to GRE super human vocabs. I mean c'mon who uses words that take half a day to pronounce and longer time to spell and said once in every solstice . Keeping my whinnying aside i lunge into the topic of monsoon.

This time i am not going to romanticize monsoon. I am going to talk about a nuisance that gets introduced like the help at your place who turns up when you are going to have a party at your place when your parents are away (not from experience ;) ) :drum rolls please: MOSQUITOES!! Yes. Those tiny buzzing irritating to death mosquitoes. Monsoon famously brings machar and makhis. The former being also the buzzing irritating to death traits but their job profile includes sucking blood and transferring dangerous diseases like malaria, dengue. While the more squashy and blotted looking counterpart the “makhis” love to spread the ill health of diarrhoea and other stomach cleansing diseases.

I am going to restrict my say to “makhis” only, in other words flies. Makhis sound way cooler and i am an ultra cool person, makhi it is. Apart from spreading disease it loves to entertain itself by buzzing around you for no apparent purpose.  You could spend a whole day running around the house with a newspaper roll trying to swat into cutlet or with chopsticks (over-inspired ninja movies), unless its a lazy fat makhi or may be oldage it refuses to die.   

If “makhis” would have brains they would strive for world domination! With their numbers and killer instincts of that of spreading disease and annoying effect. People would either poop to death or suicide out of the the annoyance of makhis. If there was a similar experiment as that shown in the movie “deep blue sea” or something like that ,where they inject the sharks with brain matter and make them super intelligent (why on earth you want super intelligent sharks?!weren't they dangerous enough!). If such a thing was done i am sure the world would get a “makhi hitler” who wouldn’t fail in world domination this time.

As gre has taught me to support your statement with a good example. The movie called makhi which was a remake of a south movie (surprise surprise) where the hero turns into a fly and seeks revenge. Is a pure example of what they are actually capable of. And their nuisance value is very well illustrated in the episode “the fly” in”breaking bad” (googly eyed thinking of breaking bad) .

Rethink of the power of makhis as you are chasing it with a newspaper roll, will you be spared if they revolt against humanity?! A paisa for your thoughts. (going desi as independence day nears)

watch out at 2:32

he doesnt need to know..

He doesn't need to know

Of the times spent at the quarry

He doesn't need to know

Where his mom went as he tarried

He doesn't need to know

What cost him those boots

He doesn't need to know

What happened to his sisters two front tooths

                              He doesn't need to know

                         Where went his father's ticking watch

                               He doesn't need to know

                          That dinner had caused him the absence of the dogs barking match

                                He doesn't need to know

                              Why his father came black, everytime he stepped out

                                   He doesn't need to know

                             Why his sister complained of rough hands with a pout

                                     He doesn't need to know

                                       Of the leaky roof that bothers father during monsoon
He doesn't need to know

That rain fall inside is just not natural

He doesn't need to know

That there are more toys than a cycle tyre

He doesn't need to know

Life ends in a burning pyre

He doesn't need to know

Of fathers coughing worsen day by day

He doesn't need to know

That life is as frail as pots of clay

He doesn't need to know

That soon he would be crowned the man of the house

And then,

he will have to know it all