Sixty years after..

This poem is more of an after thought,my wondering as to how childhood friends would behave if they were to meet after some 60 years or so.I was inspired to write this poem after reading a poem by cutest angel about two child hood friends,their exploits on a summer afternoon and how suddenly,it all changed.Please do read the original poem by cutest angel on http://cutestangel.wordpress.com/2009/07/02/that-summer/.

Sixty years after..


The morning dawned,enshrouded in a bitter chill
Vision murked by the thickening fog
Clouds engulfing the ever lonely hill
Trees crooked and shorn,upon us was the winter fall

Walking down a desolate alley,i met her
Frailed and thinned,beauty ravaged by merciless time
Bones projecting out,veins standing out through the skinny veil
I met her in the winter of my life,lucy,my childhood friend

But time had not taken it all,a familiar smile still lingered on her lips
Slightly bent by age's burden,mind slightly deranged
Shorn of her youth,with nothing left to do but pine
And pined i for how my childhood friend had changed

And we talked at length,as the light around us dimmed
About how unreal and distant memories seemed
And talked we of that summer long ago,those days of yore
About how change was a familiar foe,but it hurt no more
For pined i no more for how it all had changed
I was glad to be back with her,lucy,my childhood friend

change is in the air.......

As night befalls and the hungry wolves howl
Prose gathers power,terse verses no more
For poems can no more placate the crumbling plasters
Depravity so acrid,wounds so sore

Is that a Pegasus flying in the sky
Or is it the starving mind misled
A cry rings out amidst the brewing storm
'Veins snapped,blood spewing,coloured all Red

Violent winds swirling by
Violence is the name of the tide
Fuelled by waves of desperation
Riding a hungry ride

Their faces wear a look so grim
Emptiness rule their heart and soul
As we,stuffing ourselves to the brim
Push them down this ruddy hole

So they want their wish fulfilled,tired tirade no more
As anguished cries fill the air,cries of revenge
Starved of food but not of desire
For better or worse they no longer care
All they want now is Change.


and i tried my hand at writing a sonnet....and here is the best i could come up with.........sorry to put you guys through this torture.....and sorry again that its in bengali.......


Dekhechho mrityu, kobi, karoni upolobdhi,-
Nijo antare? Byartho bhikkhuker samaaj
Nirashraye dhaay, Ishwar-o paay laaj
Achchhaadi, jom-dwarer upal abodhi.
Bahe kato jhar, Mrityu-r songeet gaahi
Karne ki pashe tabo? Uddhato se ahobaan
Haane aghaat, kare charom apomaan
Kabyer bish sudhaake, dripto bhasha baahi.

Jeebonke karo barnon kobi, -Mrityuke,-
Jao bhoole, Dakho suteebro Anondo ros
boy amritodhara roope, premer dheu.
Bhoktir Shubho jyoti aachhre pore booke,-
pobitro sourav, hridayer parobosh
Kamponer shuru, se ki dekhe phale keu?

A Suit That Suits......

The suit or rather the business suit for men has a hyper-vaunted position in the world of fashion.

I came across this statement in a certain blog,and this statement could not possibly have been more right.It is not surprising that in the boring lame duck world of men's fashion,the suit almost commands the position of the holy grail.Men,unlike women,do not have,at their disposal the huge variety of dresses to choose from-miniskirts,long skirts,slit skirts,asymmetrical skirts,pants,trousers,tops,bikinis(yes,its not merely a swimwear anymore),spaghetti tops,funky tops-the list is endless.and,even after being blessed with this huge variety of dresses to choose from,they seem not content,and have,with an open heart,made mens dresses pretty much their own-trousers,jeans,tee-shirts,even the pyjamas-they have ventured into the male's dominion of fashion,and have owned it.But men have not really been endowed with the same huge heart and open mind to make everything their own.Imagine a man,walking around in a spaghetti top and a short asymmetrical miniskirt...no..the mere thought is as repulsive as the man who shows such courage and bad taste.

So stuck we are,with so very little to choose from in terms of dressing,the only choice is in terms of having a collar or no collar and the shirt or pant being either full or short(not too short though,you may enjoy looking at a lady in a miniskirt,but a man in a mini pant is to us what Nano is to Mamata).So cling we on,on to our beloved suits,our holy grail.Of late though,designers have tried all sorts of daredevil innovations with men's dresses-a button more at the back(now,that thing can never come out through that small a slit),a slit where your pockets are supposed to be(no need for purse,no cell phones either),asymmetrical trousers(so that you look like a thief whose pant had been chopped off by chasing dogs) and much more.But till date,i have not seen even a single person with either the courage or stupidity to try these out in public.So the suit remains. This suit fetish is so apparent that no businessman is willing to allow his suit to have even a single wrinkle even if they sit in Yoga inspired extremely contorted positions in low cost economy class seats. No wonder then, even if it’s a huge inconvenience, male executives can often be seen walking around city streets holding their business suits by the hanger, an intensely purposeful look in their eyes. May be we all see it as our Lady Justice moment. Always keep in a cover, always keep it straight, only to be dry cleaned, never expose to rain, never wear unless in combination, the five commandments of suit owning imposes a more stringent religion of its own.

And however out of place,impractical and vain a suit may look,considering the oppressive hot and humid conditions that predominate the vast majority of the subcontinent,we would more readily usher in the next ice age than let go of our suits,because that's what suits us best.

shit,grissho,borsha
coat pant e bhorsha.......

A Different Flavour.........

The skies were the darkest grey I had seen all monsoon this year,had been the whole day.Ever since i had woken up today,the skies had been threatening to play spoilsport on my afternoon.And just as the clock struck 1:30 and I was about to go out,the skies broke in a heavy downpour.So I was stuck,stuck for the rest of the day with nothing to do,nowhere to go.I stared out from my windows for a few moments,blankly,vaguely,at the steady drizzle comming down.No,it would be mere foolery to venture out in this weather.So,with nothing better to do,I switched on my television set.But there are certain days when nothing seems to go right for you,and today was one of them.The remote had run out of battery,and there was no spare battery in the entire house.And so there was I,stuck indoors on a rainy day,with a television set in which,only one channel was available.And in a vile conspiracy,that one channel that I was stuck with was Doordarshan.Talk of bad luck!But a few minutes of Doordarshan never fails to do that one thing-stir those childhood memories,something it had been such an integral part of.And as those lost memories came flooding back,I switched of my television,exclaiming to myself,'what do i have to watch on television anyways?'.

Its true.Doordarshan never fails to revive those memories of childhood.The satellite channels had not yet made their foray into our lives,Sas Bahus were as alien to us as fishes are to snow laden mountain tops and a mere two or three channels were available to us.And yet,we never complained.Compare this with today's 'wish karo dish karo' age where we so frequently find ourselves complaining that there is absolutely nothing to watch on television.And,yet,in those holocene days of our lives,a mere three channels were sufficient to satiate our thirst for entertainment.Waking up to 'jungle jungle pata chala hai' on weekends followed by Alice In Wonderland,life had seemed easy and innocent.On the nights,having dinner,with our eyes firmly fixed on our television sets,watching Chitrahaar had almost become a part of our daily routines.And it was impossible to imagine holidays without Doordarshan.Its hard to find a child in Bengal,of my age,who didn't watch Chhuti Chhuti.That one programme so lighted up our days and made those lousy afternoons so much more bearable.I can still remember that song 'bajlo chhutir ghonta',a song that signalled the end to our long wait all morning for the clock to strike 12 noon and Chhuti Chhuti to begin.Here was my first tryst with Hollywood and spider man,and my first watch of that one movie that was so much an essential and integral part of any Bengali child's growing up,'Goopi Gayen Bagha Bayen'.

Those years are long gone,and nothing can possibly turn back the clocks,and gone with it is our beloved Doordarshan.Is it us that has changed,or is it Doordarshans quality that has undergone such a steady and fast decline.One thing however remains certain,that however much we might cringe at the mere sight of Doordarshan,our childhoods would have been incomplete but for its presence.For in the soft boards of our intensely vulnerable and pregnable childhood,Doordarshan has made a permanent place.

Hope I didn't bore you guys with these meaningless consternations,for whats gone is gone,but sometimes,its necessary to look at life in retrospective.

happy and GAY.........

Rule:opposites attract.

About two fifty years ago,when the liberators of the United States entailed upon creating a New World and a New Order,they announced their intentions of creating a new country,free of inequalityand injustice and every vermin which plagued their society at that time.They made clear their intentions of creating a country,truly happy and gay(which,again means happy).Now,celebrities always have a tendency of being misquoted and misinterpreted,and they were no exceptions.And the common people,being loyal followers of their leaders,took upon themselves,the responsibility of realising the dreams of their vanguards .and 250 years down the line,they succeeded in realising the dreams of their ancestors,creating a country in which opposites need not necessarily attract,a country,truly,happy and GAY.Men wearing earrings became a common sight,and even more common became men asking men out on dates.And as American imperialism grew,these men crossed the thresholds of their own country,and gays became a world wide phenomenon.And the American society today can broadly be divided into two groups-happy and gay and happy to be GAY.

Now,I personally have nothing against gays.Infact,i like them(oh,no,don't take it otherwise).They,for one part,have a great sense of style.And they are really artsy.If are into artsy,you are gay,or,otherwise,you simply are not that good at arts.they have produced some great singers(Little John,By George Cycle,and Axel Rosy).

But not all gays are that intelligent or artsy.A woman,on being being asked what she thought of same sex relations being legalised in India,gayly(happily,i mean) quipped 'it feels great to be legal at last'.Lady,its your unconventional relationship that's been legalised,not unconventional you.If you weren't legal when you were born,chances of you being legal,ever,are pretty slim.Yes,gay marriages are now legal in Apna Bharat.And the courts,I feel,have made the right decision.Buladi,simply was not working.Really,yshe has to remain Buladi all day long to be effective.Can't be Bula in the morning and Anjan Dutta in the evening.But she simply cant reamain Bula all day long,through no fault of hers.We all know 'subha ka Bula jab sham ko ghar laut ta hai to use Bula nahin kehte'.So gays are the way to go.No need of family planning,no need of Bula.I infact wish that all men become gays.That's my only chance of getting a woman.

And I have been kind of having an arguement with a guy,Goldie(now,who names a male child Goldie????) over his blog 'humanity,be ashamed,thou art naked'.Now,what with all the Mallika Sherawats and Kareena Kapoors,I always thought that humanity was in a bikini.But this guy seems to think otherwise.But only recently did I realise what a visionary this guy is.The rate at which bollywood actersses are dropping their clothes, they will soon be naked,atleast he hopes so.And to quote Andy.'hope is a good thing,perhaps the best of things,and no good thing ever dies.i will be hoping to see you again,and see you naked..'.Way to go man.What foresight!!!!!!!
Thats it for today guys,will be writing again,as soon as I find some suitable excuse to torture you all,and some suitable crap to write about.


P.S:This blog is not in any way,intended to offend anybody.So,be you Goldie or Gay,please don't take this to heart.I promise all the gays out there,I will make it up to you guys and come out with a blog condemning heterosexuality,as soon as I can find some fault with it.

of brooms and grooms......

‘You have made a considerably wise decision,you cannot possibly go wrong with Shree charma’.’Will they last long?’.’As long as you’.He was right,one could not possibly go wrong with Shree Charma,they had become real big,were all over the place,in news papers and roadside hoardings.I had made a considerably wise decision,and if my hands so permitted,I might have even patted myself.What more,the shoes even came with a one year warranty.And I returned home happy,happy at having made such a wise decision and at having saved myself a few bucks.Those Kata shoes may be good,but they are anything but cheap.

It was only the next morning,as I walked my first paces in my brand new shoes(some say 'moch mochie'),that I realized,to full extent,the implications of the salesman’s words.The shoes were so heavy,I could barely lift my feet,and my knees felt like coming off.It was then that I realised that the shoes would surely outlast me,because if I walked any more in those shoes,I would not certainly last much longer.But I kept walking in those shoes,to scared to ask for money for a a new pair of shoes.But when I could take it no longer,I somehow summoned up the courage,walked up to my mother and explained everything to her.And she immediately let rip,giving me a dose of her ‘opodartho,okalkushmando...’.And I have no idea how I can possibly be that.I was born in January,and pumpkin,as far as I know,is very much a winter vegetable.So a mere kushmando maybe,but no way an ‘okalkushmando’.But try telling that to them and the next thing you find is a broom sticking up yours.Its very true what they say-‘The hand that sweeps the floor brooms the world’.

Or ‘The hand that brooms the world keeps it clean’.Almost everybody including celebrities,school students and any body else who can wield a broom has taken to sweeping,or brooming the city clean.We even had an imported sweeper in Sweepy Waugh(everybody knows,imported sweepers are a lot better than their Indian counterparts).Gone are the days of yore,when the broom used to be a powerful weapon in the hands of the Lolonas(tor mukhe jhata mari,mukhpora minshe).Those were the days when the broom went shoulder to shoulder with another powerful weapon of hubby destruction,the Bonti.But the lolonas of today seem to have found chotipeta a more potent weapon than jhatapeta(mainly because of the slipper's ready availability).But the broom has found new ares of use,forsay,in literature(jhatar moto gof).Jhat or Jhata is one of the most popular nicknames doing the rounds in college circles these days.in every college,in every year,there's atleast one ‘Jhata’(there was one Jhata in our year,who,on top of being Jhata,as if that wasn't enough torture,was unlucky as hell.).And the Firy Lady is reportedly so addicted to sweeping,that she has been sweeping every election for the past one year.And much before Ratane Ratan Chene’s Nano vision,Hori Poddar had given us the cheapest means of air transport,the Broom.And after having lost all faith in the politicians,and probably inspired by Shukanta’s ‘pranpone a prithibir sorabo jonjal’,people have rediscovered the magic of the broom,and have taken to brooming the city clean in a big way,or,may we say,grooming it into Kollolini Tilottoma.

And talking of grooms,guys get ready,because Hawas Ki Pakhi is getting all maidy.Yes yes,running in all television sets near you,presenting ‘Aap ki Pakhi’.So guys,suit up(or down,don’t know which way she prefers it),because Pakhi can be all yours.All you need to do is,keep faith in Kamran Asami's famous 'jibhe prem kore jei jon,sei jon sebichhe Ishwar'.

Note:Marrying Pakhi is subject to market risks.Please read the offer document carefully before committing.That's it for now guys,bye,see you later.

The Meaws are burning bright....

Over the past few days,there has been great debate over the Maoists,whether they are really there.For one part,I believe they are.Not in the jungles maybe,but surely all over the newspapers and news channels,on Biman mind and Buddhas,on Mamatas and Pranabs,on my lips and yours,they truly are everywhere.Mamta cant see them,even if they sleep with her.Buddha,somehow,sees them everywhere,even in the Meaw of his pet cat.And if Biman has his way,he would probably have his shadow handcuffed .So I decided to come up with my own version of things.

Meaw Meaw burning bright
Meaws to the left and right
Sleepless vigils day and night
Tthe Meaws are burning bright

In the blinding heat,through the monsoon night
Guns slung across,the armymen stride
For its the Meaws they fight
They know not a moment of respite

Stuck to stealing fish no more
The meaws like tigers roar
Mines bursting left and right
For its the meaws they fight

To the left,to the right,theres a Meaw everywhere
Even one on Buddha’s receding hair
In hiding,in open,the meaws are everywhere
Theres a meaw hiding under bimans chair

Cruel the meaws are ,devoid of all Mamta
How fight we against such might
The Meaws must be gotten rid of
Left as they are,the Meaws are never Right

Meaws to the left and right
The Meaws are burning bright.


Veronica Decides To Die,after the first read,i must say,left me quite dissapointment.There seems to be nothing wrong with the book,but it suffers from the same problems any translation does-the authors essence is missing.Its a pity that I dont know the language the book was originally written in.
Adios until next time.