shironaam

Love thyself

2010-06-06T22:54:00.001-07:00

Until a few years ago, words like ‘feeling low’ (and also simultaneously, the other side of the coin, viz. ‘getting high’) were strangers to us. Growing up has its own flip sides I believe. But of course neither do I support frowning about what is, and unnecessarily glorifying what was or what could have been.
I have grown up. And I am happy about it.
Starting out at a good school, degree at a sought-after engineering college, leaving home for masters at a famed institute of technology and ultimately settling down for doctoral studies at another premier research institute. Perhaps we are at a wonderful stage of life where the hunger to learn is still there, yet with a contention and appreciation of what we have already learnt. And the learning of course is not confined to academics only, but also applies to life in general.
However, moving from school to college, from college to university, from university to institute, what is concerning is that we have perhaps been moving more and more further away from simplicity. Often times we are stuck at the superficial level of apparent intricacy and hence we take time in realizing that life is simple.
And hence, beautiful.
In this premier research institute, there are workers, researchers and professors on one hand and messes, canteens and juice centers on the other where the aforementioned species collect for myriads of discussions, about almost anything under the sun. Yet, the vibrance is some how on the lower side. We have perhaps made expressing dissatisfaction our foremost nature.
The funda of classifying friends must be well known to all of us. Some are amazingly close to us, some are trustworthy, some we would generally hang out with yet from a distance, while some are mere acquaintances who can be called ‘duur ka dost’, analogous to the ‘duur ka rishtedaar’ of the Indian family tradition.
So one day early morning I was having a glass of moosambi juice along with a trace of fresh air hoping to increase the sattva element in my genes (for I heard from someone long ago that fruits are the perfect examples of sattvik food, and of course I had to pay 1500 bucks for learning this in the form of an ‘empowerment’ workshop, no free lunches my friend!), when a ‘duur ka dost’ of mine bumped into me. It is a tradition here to have an initial greeting session, that is, asking for ‘kushal-mangal’ in the form of the following question: ‘How is your research coming along?’
Once that was over, I realized that my ‘duur ka dost’ was a philanthropist, too. For, within a few minutes, and even without my asking for it, he showed his concern for me by cautioning me and pointing out what might be the disadvantages of working with the advisor I have chosen for myself for my doctoral work. That he might be very busy, that other than whatever possible by virtue of his position, he cannot render any help, and so on. I was not surprised. Such baseless accusation and apprehension was not new. And like the previous cases, I wanted to test my hypothesis once again.
So I asked him how his own advisor was. Initially he was generous. He told me that his own advisor did not have any of the problems which my advisor was accused to have. (Was that also to make me feel envious?) For, as predictable, when I asked him further, he soon delved deeper into problems, which according to him, was unique to his professor. That he cannot find his professor during his problems, that his professor presents new ideas and instructions at every meeting and so on. And hence, now, the prime motto of his is to somehow publish 1-2 papers, submit his thesis and leave this place for ever (and for good).
In ordinary cases, when two people are together for a work, difference of opinion is bound to happen. But what troubles me here is the skewness of expectations that the students generally have about their advisors. This, as I mentioned before, was not anything new. I am sure, professors would also be equally unhappy about students. All of us are perhaps trying to minimize our efforts and time in everything we are into.
As a result of which, eventually a time comes when both parties look forward to finishing the association somehow. And we call it – the awarding of the degree!
And sadly, with a very few lucky exceptions, this is the general trend among almost all branches of education. Not only here, but perhaps everywhere in the world!
That is why it did not take me time to realize that this ‘duur ka dost’ of mine is not into his research simply for the love of it. He is lost in other complexities. My hypothesis yet again could not be rejected. And I cannot really blame him because the system stays healthy only with such apparent complexities.
In an independent incident, another of my friend was having a discussion with his advisor about an article he accidentally found in a journal. My friend was fascinated by the work those people had done, and with a lot of excitement of sharing, he went to his advisor. But, academics, alas, is not sacrosanct! And perhaps also not as pure as we conceive them to be.
His advisor, after listening for two minutes asked him – ‘what transfer function have they used: linear or non-linear?’, ‘linear’ my friend replied, still unable to understand what the professor is going to comprehend out of this and still with his excitement un-extinguished. Out came the reply – ‘then we can apply the non-linear function, and publish a paper out of it’!
My friend was shocked at this reply! And grossly dejected. The whole purpose of finding out and appreciating a really good quality of research was lost!
No. The professor cannot be blamed either. He has hundreds of responsibilities to shoulder, and also incessantly do well on whatever ‘performance index’ has been set on to him by the system.
All this is not new. There are novels, stories, TV series, and even a celebrated comic strip illustrating all these nuances and fallacies of a life in research. However, what we take out of this is perhaps not limited to entertainment alone.
And our learning is essentially the outcome an age-old wisdom. Love.
To our professors we may be students, and to us they may be professors, but we share identities that tie us together. We are all humans. And a simple thing such as respect for a person as a human being, for being the person he or she is, is viciously lost in the complexities that are churned up by issues totally material in nature.
I can discuss with my professor about Buddhist philosophy on Facebook, and he attends my music shows and cares to congratulate me if I do well in them. He lures me to studies by promising gifts when I am down with no appetite for exams, and many may find it difficult to believe, that he actually goes all the way to bring me the books that he had promised. And of course, I do not mind him being ruthless if I had been negligent and insincere. Neither do I expect him to spoon-feed me at this stage of learning. PhD is the last stage in our education where we can raise questions freely, for, once this phase gets over, we will be asked questions and we will be liable to find answers. And I do not know whether I am more happy for feeling so lucky, or more unhappy that this is a very very rare example in any of the educational institutes meant for higher studies.
I was a little surprised about the PhD interview I had to face before admission here. I was not asked a single non-technical question! I expected at least one question that would make us ponder for a while: why would we want to do a PhD?
And in many cases I am sure the answer would be simple. But perhaps, lost.
Which is why we stop loving what we are doing. And when we are in such a fix, we start finding faults in trivial matters. Our expectations grow boundlessly and in wide and impractical directions. And eventually, we forget to love ourselves.
Do I need to mention about the unfortunate suicide cases that keep on happening in many institutes in the country? There have even been cases where students went absconding from their studying/working places! Our heads hang in shame on such news.
Beauty can be in all that we do, see or think about. If we love it while doing it, cleaning a room can give us as much bliss and joy as painting a picture or singing a song. And sometimes, to realize this, it is also important to go through troubles and to be sad. For when we are alone, we might start loving ourselves. And love life, too.
We all know this, don’t we?

And sometimes, however, it is important to not work, too! For, through this process we might learn how to handle the problematic situation we might face by not working, who knows? :-)

bhoy r asha....

2010-04-21T23:31:00.000-07:00

din sesh-e ekta ghor.
aar ghor-e ferar swopno.
khub sadharon.
tobu bhoy paai.
bujhte parina je tor duto haath amar ei
moleen deho takei bhalobashbe chirokaal.
dur-e jete chay ei murho, pashaan, nishtur ami.
koshto dey aar koshto paay.
ami chinte paarina amay.
tobu tor aalingonei khomaprapti
aamar sob paap-er.
tui amar unmukto aakash.
aami daanaheen bihongo, tobu
uurte aakul hoi,
tor dikei....

A home at the end of the day..
And a dream to return home...
Very ordinary.
Yet I apprehend.
I fail to trust that your hands
will forever love my dirty apparition.
And I try to run away.
Oh foolish, silly, cruel me!
you hurt, and get hurt!
And I don't recognize myself.
Yet in your embrace
will my sins be forgiven.
You are my eternal unending sky.
I am a bird with broken wings.
Yet I never stop flying..
towards you.........

Punishment...

2010-04-14T03:09:00.000-07:00

Game over.
And now, the next.
Vapors from the ocean become the rain, and the river,
To meet the ocean again.
The clock-hands’ journey never stops.
Honesty was there in all of the love!
Accidents, sagacity, rarity – was pure in them all!
And likewise, the pain.
Fresh.
You weren’t ready to lose even a morsel of warmth.
Do you remember?
Do you remember for the love of no concession you had ruthlessly
Uprooted the very love?
Blemishes of the wounds.
Veils of fear.
Torn, broken dreams.
Yet, intimacy with the self.
Oh it is no less!
And there’s no stopping the destined.
Lashing all vows of toughness
Love comes again.
Slowly.
Silently.
Flooding all resolutions of being cruel, of being indifferent.
Could so easily you tread the path, knowing it would be treacherous?
Is so luring the door to fantasy?
So attractive the silver moonlight?
Could your dreams want to be deceived?
Or they couldn’t, for,
You love again!
You leap again in inanity!
So now, pay for that taste of eternity.
Erect your edifice, against all tempests.
Build your world at the epicenter of the quake.
Leave the ground, for,
You have longed to fly.
You have aspired.
You have dared to love.
There’s no escape!

wait...

2010-04-14T02:58:00.000-07:00

Jaanlar opaare surjyo gole jaak godhulir nana rong-e
Paakhira firuk neer-e
Sob podokkhep er theke rehai paak raasta
Bishaad-ei baajuk taanpura
dhulo jome gaachh-er patao
Hoye uthuk chhai ronga
Meghera Cherrapunji-tei bhalo achhe
tai tumi borong naa-i ele
Lamp post neebe jay jak
eta opekkkhar golpoi hok...

And, here's the translation:

Over the window, let the sun melt into colors of dusk.
Let the birds sequester to their nests.
Let the road take respite from all strides.
Let the strings play melancholy.
Let the leaves turn gray, ridden with dust.
The clouds are well and happy in Cherrapunji.
So let you not be.
Let the lamp post light be put out, too.
Let this be a story of wait……

A translation from Mousumi Bhoumik

2010-03-22T23:01:00.000-07:00

I heard the other day...
sailing over the ocean waves, you reached and touched the blue sea horizon...

I heard the other day...
over the salt-sand long beech, you walked miles....and miles...

I have never been to the sea...never floated in the blue....
never kept my stare fixed on a flying winged kite...
The next day when you again go for a bath in the sea...please take me with you...
will you??

I heard the other day...
you, you and you..all together made a gathering
And you all talked about many complex puzzles...many words unspoken...

Why this running alone so secretively?
Why speak lone and live with self, for self?
If there ain't love..it's all alone...solitary...
Where will I find peace?
going where?? Tell me....

I heard that you all still dream...
still tell stories...still sing your hearts out...
People's life... and death..still bother you
Your love still blooms into a rose...

With a distrustful mind, I have come to you
and stretched my hands to you all for your alms...

I find only a vacuum within the core of my eyes
I don't find a dream filling me in the middle of the night...
Hence I have opened my lids to dream....

Hence I have come to you and stretched my hands to you all for your alms...
Hence I have opened my lids to dream....

UNTITLED

2010-01-11T23:57:00.000-08:00

The water scarcity problem in IISc is now well known, and I must say, has faced with the consequence that is faced by most of the problems in our country – getting accepted! It is no sooner winter than there isn’t any water in the hostels. Come summer and we will be bathing in the sand like the way a sparrow does. (For shitting, we can of course use the millions of unknown, unseen and un-habituated wild nooks spread across the huge campus, never mind!)
Fresh male admissions here always are put up in pigeon holes on a sharing basis, collectively called E-block. There they are not entitled to have water for 24 hours, irrespective of whether it is summer, winter or monsoon. And when the sun is about to set behind those myriad species of trees in the lush green campus, students of E-block for fear of Daku Gabbar (read absence of water) either go to sleep, or decide to spend the rest of the night in their respective labs itself. One productive way of increasing the amount of research I must say!
Hence, while the rest of India sees ragging by students (read bullies), the best educational institute in the country witnesses a special scenario, where such intolerant behavior to fresh admissions is incurred by the authorities themselves!
And most of the times it is the drinking water that finishes first. Which brings me to my own story.
Yes, of course I am not a philanthropist to pen down a story for public interest. It is what is happening around me that has troubled me, and helped me overcome my hard-wired laziness. There is no drinking water in my hostel Mrigasira since the last 6 days. And you might find it a little difficult to believe, but which is nonetheless true, that not a single plumber has paid a visit to the hostel yet!
For the first two days, I relied on my fellow wing-mate who had been kind enough to fetch me water from another hostel, realizing that I have a torn ligament in my left knee. Next day, I thought it would not be good on my part to ask for her favor everyday. So I went to Ashwini. In Bengali there is a saying that says that only a boy with a poor vision has names like padma-lochan (The lotus-eyed one). Pardon me for being audacious, but all the five ladies’ hostels here in the best educational institute in the country, are in an analogous fashion, named after Mahanakshatras (Great astronomical stars). Ashwini had given up the next day. No water there!
So I thought now that I have gotten started, let me check with some other hostel. Rohini I went. Now here, let me digress a bit, and tell you more about Rohini. This is the only ladies’ hostel that allows the entry of men! You must be thinking that the authorities perform a ‘maturity test’ before allocating girls to this hostel! The criterion is not that, not your age either. It is – ‘how long have you been staying in this institute’. Of course, some of the Rohini inmates are lucky enough to have their rooms there in their freshie year also, for, the other more profound criteria are the whims and wishes of the person who has the duty (read right) to allocate rooms!
Rohini, with its bigger and better rooms, I am afraid, had no drinking water either! So I went to Krithika. (This is the same hostel from which my kind wing-mate had brought water for me the previous two days). So I thought at least Krithika won’t disappoint me. But when I started filling water, I saw that the ‘processing’ button is always on, and the green button for ‘purified water’ never lights up! What?? This is so misleading! I had drunk this unpurified water the other night! Oh my God! (And hail my stomach, for not upsetting me!)
So next I am left with only one option (unless I intended to come all the way to lab giving my injured knee some exercise, of course) - Bharani. ‘Dear Mother Ganges, please supply me with drinking water today, I promise I will send my parents to Haridwar next year!” said I, a silent prayer. And yes! Bharani had water! Yeppie! I filled all my four bottles with happiness! Done for the day!

Next chapter. Come another day. And the same story! This time, the watchman told me there is no drinking water in any of the hostels! I decided not to venture out and come straight to the lab. And guess what? For lunch, we were not given bowls because they couldn’t be washed due to lack of water!
I remembered my good old IITBombay days! Yes we had space problems, but at least the authorities were kind enough to provide us flats instead! In an individual hostel, we had coolers and water purifiers every wing and every floor! There was no separate treatment for fresh admissions. And every individual hostel had its own mess, its own students’ council, its own mess manager, hall manager, two helpers, and an associate warden and a warden who would be professors! Where the watchman would check the luggage of all the workers in order to ensure there is no stealing of food or any other items that are meant for and paid by the students.
Can’t accept this! Can’t accept! I must at least lodge a complaint! For the last three days I had only been asking the watchman whether a complaint has been lodged and felt happy when he said yes! But no. Let me check it myself today!
I called the water supply department.
“Hello, there is no drinking water in Mrigasira since Friday. Can you do something about it?”
“Which hostel madam?”
“Mrigasira!”
“Hello”
“There is no drinking water! Could you send a plumber?”
“Which hostel madam?”
“Mrigasira, I said!”
“What?” (And then I remembered the unique way of addressing hostels here!)
“M-block, M-block” I almost shouted.
“Ok madam, I will send someone!” – thapak! End of the call….
Call at the hostel office…. Ring! Ring! Ring! And Ring! No one bothered to lift the call! Smart people!

What is the problem? I asked the watchman again. And he told me that it is a supply problem!
Now water supply problem in Bangalore looks very mysterious to me. My brother had stayed here for 2 years in BTM layout, and had never ever complained about water! My friend from the IT industry stays in Whitefield, and he seems to be unaware. My friend who is a research staff in Nimhans, Koramangala, had never faced such a problem. The distribution of supply seems a little strange. We have heard from our professors that the institute pays the BWSSB a lot for water supply. Awards galore at their website: http://www.bwssb.org/

Lets do some study, and forget about this, thought I. Came to lab. My fellow lab-mate, a victim of the E-block, met me on the way, and a traveler in the same boat, he realized immediately by seeing all the bottles in my hand. It was 4 o’clock in the afternoon.
“No water, huh?” he asked.
“Yeah, don’t ask!”
“But now it must have come…even in E block there was no water, but now it has come!”
“No water as in, not even for bath?”
“Nope!”
“Then?”
“Then what? We waited till now, and took bath, and now coming to lab”.

What should be my state of mind now? Should I feel lucky that at least I could take bath in the morning, or should I feel sorry my friend, and at least another hundred like him, who had to wait till 4 o’clock for getting water for bathing!

Time for studying now….regularity, eating, sleeping, drinking water (kudos to the rich department for fitting aqua guard at all the labs)….end of the day.
Next morning, I woke up with a fear that I might find the taps running dry! But thank God, they weren’t. But no drinking water, as usual! I had to take all my bottles and start out on a venture.
Wait. Can I not find two minutes to actually lodge a complaint with the hostel office itself?
History tells us, that we Indians are very peace-loving (read lazy enough to always accept things the way they are). But can I not change myself at least for a day?
“promise you would be polite, promise you wont fight!” I said to myself!

“May I come in?” I asked in the hostel office. There were four rooms, and I made a random choice.
“Yes”
“See Sir, there is no drinking water in Mrigasira since Friday, and it has been 6 days now. No action has been taken, and I have come with all my bottles. You please tell me where to fill them?”
“You see, we have our own jurisdictions. The hostel office chairman is going to come at 2.30 to look into the issue!”

What??? Jurisdictions? How long does it take for someone to at least enquire what’s wrong? Am I going to remain thirsty till 2.30?? I could almost feel blood rushing to my brain!
“patient, patient” I told myself.

“Would you tell me how long does it take to take a step?” I asked.
“There is no point in arguing with me, madam. You can come and talk to the chairman at 2.30!”
“But I am not in this institute to complaint to the chairman! I have to attend classes at 2.30!”
“There is no point talking to me madam. We are looking into the matter. The chairman will sit at 2.30 today for solving the water issues. We have our own jurisdictions!”
“But it has already been 6 days!”
“We have done the best we could do!”

The ‘best’? Did I hear correctly? The ‘best’? Is this what he said? I couldn’t control my natural emotion, which ultimately came out of my mouth with a lot of hurt, and shame!
“If this is the best that the best educational institution in the country can do, it feels sorry to be here!”
And I started running away. And while running, I could see that, like many street fights in our country, we had an audience!

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

We have been lucky. Most of us have not seen the worse. Most of us here in this institute are good students who have been caressed by their parents, praised by their teachers, brought up in all cozy comforts and who have set examples for their younger followers. We are here for our research.
But above all this, with my badly hurt heart now, I realize one truth that surpasses and raises above all petty mundane things that we indulge ourselves in everyday. That making a difference is not easy! That adding more meaning to life is not easy! That facing a problem is not easy! That NOT putting blame on others is not easy! We, who are very common mortals, on either side of the table, are not very different from each other. And together are we. Together we rise. Together we solve a problem.
Yes I am writing this for myself and my own interest. Because I am THE PUBLIC.

2009-12-06T01:22:00.000-08:00

Shedin saanjh hotei tomar
dekha millo digonter kinare...
elomelo haway usko chul udchhilo amar,
daariyechhilam bhognopray, ojana ei minaare,
aalto aangule amar chul chhule tumi,
haath rakhle mathay...
chokh e tokhon ojhordhar, mon paadi diyechhe na jane otit-er kothay...
kon monkharap er kotor, kon purono aghaat-er daag!
aaj o ki sudhrono jay na, behishebi bhulgulo shei?
aaj o ki chhure fela jayna aajgubi obhimaan?
muchhe fela jayna shei chhelemanushi raag?
konthasha ondhokar er shey ek dombondho chokrobuhyo!
ki pelam ei jontronay? ki dilo ei dukkho gulo?

bhabte bhabtei megher faanke koney dekha alo..
ektukro ador-e tumi bolle...byathaguloi toh moner songe monke melalo!
ore boka tui...pagol r shob
jekhane joto ashtha hara praan-
shob tora ek dor e bandha...gaa notun diner gaan!
agontuk der bheer-e dhorle oshar, ekla amar haath!
koshto hoye ashe...abar choleo jay ei raat!
bisshash dile...jholmolabe gaachh-er mathay rod hoye ei jirno jibon gulo,
eder tumi niyo...
chinbo, jaanbo, eke onyoke, bondhu hobo....ortho etei...dukkhoi tumi diyo...

aamar ami, tomay niye more ni, morbe na asha...
kaal bhor-e thik dekhbe...ei byatha thekei jonmabe abar bhalobasha....

Onyotomo sotti

2009-11-10T04:10:00.000-08:00

ferate tokey koshto hoyechhilo khub..
tobu duchokh aadaal kore choley eshechhilam.
Shesh kore diyechhilam, jenei, jey
eta shesh noy...
Ekhon sudhu shedin-er opekkha...
jedin oi purnotatuku-r obhab bodh hobey na aar...
Surjo uthbe shedin tor aar aamar majh diye..
Shanto jol-e aalto hawa aamader-i chhobi aankbe..
Tin-er chaal-e brishti-r lohori aamader-i golpo shonabey....
Aar pahad-er oi bhijey bhijey megh chhobey sudhu aamader-i...
Shedin...
aamra kotha bolbo..
tarpor shey kotha thambena aar kothao....kokhono....
Shedin...
tui bujhbi...
nebo bolei toke firiyechhilam aami....

2009

2009-03-23T05:40:00.000-07:00

A little too late for the new year... :P
But never mind...

Last 4th Jan, 2009, on a Sunday supplement of the most leading Bengali daily Anandabazar Patrika, the Rabibasariya, I found some absolutely moving articles written by the youth of Bengal following a competition organized by the daily on occasion of the new year. I like some so much that here I translate some of them.

“Yes, in 9 (i.e., 2009), I want to see Rahul Dravid retired. But who will bell the cat? Why, Dhoni?
And to all would-be-fathers, don’t wish so much for a boy-child! If you have a daughter, ok, you may have to take care of some little troubles when she is at the doorstep of her adolescence, when her loving heart starts to blossom by the magic-touch of a young lad! Just keep a strict eye on your letterbox and the inbox of your daughter’s cell. That’s it! In 9, let the males love their beloveds a little less! Let the far-away females like Paris Hilton and Jennifer Lopez get dozens of “boy-friends”, and not “lovers”. Let more and more Chandrayaan touch the soil of the moon, let them remove the stains on its surface and come back. After all, the moons do want to get rid of their stains, don’t they? Let my XXL-sized sighs of frustration reduce in 2009. Boss, let some worker bees like me at least get the cork beside that of the Queen bee’s!” (Written by Ushnish Goswami. Jalpaiguri)

“I am not Matangini Hazra. Neither am I Mother Teresa. Nor I am any political leader. I am a very ordinary girl. Engrossed in the everyday din and bustle of my busy working life, and under the tremendous work load, yes, I do not have the time to think about my country, my people. My day starts with the panic arising out of the exorbitant prices of articles in the market. After this, while traveling by the public bus, I am alarmed to think, what if the bus tumbles upside down? Will I be able to reach home safely? The tension in the workplace is ever-rising like a lofty mountain! In the middle of all this, there are grudges of my male colleagues beating into my ear-drums always, that they are ever deprived of boss’s favors because, and only because they are males! After finishing all work from office, when I start from there, quite often, the hour-hand surpasses 9. A lone female, so late at night? Several comments fly in from all around. Many men try to help (?) me by offering a lift. After safeguarding myself from such helping males, and reaching home also, peace of mind is not ensured! I have to start afresh the preparation for the survival in the next day’s rat race. In the middle of the night, I wake up, sweating, alarmed by some unknown fear!
When the year is ending, and I have sat to calculate what I have got and what I have lost, I find that in the middle of such woes, I haven’t slept peacefully for too long a time! Those days of waking up in the morning with the last trace of the sweet dreams of fantasy, have probably moved too far away!
So in the next year, I would want to have some sleep! And when I wake up, I want to have such a newspaper in my hands, which wouldn’t contain any news of terror attacks, fights over plots of lands, violence, crime, unrest and accidents. Where there wouldn’t be news of murders, rapes, or female foeticides! Where the snap of the blooded roadway wouldn’t catch your attention in the very first page! Where there would only be news of education, culture, art, sports and progress!” (Written by Debasmita Ghosh, Kolkata)

Two translations and a few words.... :P

2008-10-23T03:08:00.000-07:00

A translation

You’re the one who my heart wishes for
Other than you, in my life, I have no one else, nothing else!

If you are unable to find happiness, go search for it
For, I have found you all over my heart, and I want nothing else.

I’ll remain immersed in my longing, waiting for you
I’ll reside within you
For prolonged days, nights, months and years!

If you love someone else, if you do not come back
I wish you get all you want, and let me be the one who begets all the pain.

Another translation

The windy breeze of the night has extinguished my lamp.
After slowly coming to me, oh my lover, please don’t depart from me again…..

When you go along this path amidst the darkness,
You will recognize the fragrance of the rajnigandha which have just shed beside the temple.
After slowly coming to me, oh my lover, please don’t depart from me again…..

When will you remember me, my lover?
Waiting for that moment, I remain awake in segments of the night, singing along.

I apprehend; what if I fall into slumber towards the end of the night?
What if my song perishes in my exhausted voice?
After slowly coming to me, oh my lover, please don’t depart from me again…..

Longing for the lover, waiting for his/her coming back or viraha seems to be quite a significant part of all great love stories. The above two songs of Tagore talks about love, and the sense of languishment in love so profoundly!
And quite predictably, a female embodies that sense of longing everywhere, rather than the male. As I had understood from my shallow knowledge derived from the word-of-mouth stories of Radha and Krishna, Shree Radha depicts that sense of longing for Krishna. Viraha (languishment for the lover) of course comes before Milan (Mating), and hence the duo is always pronounced as “Radha-Krishna” and not “Krishna-Radha”. Similarly, “Sita-Ram”, “Heer-Ranjha”, “Laila-Majnu”. The entire life of Meera-Bai was a longing, which was never to be quenched.
Of course, in some love stories, the male predominantly craves more for the female than the way the female does for the male. This may be the reason why Romeo comes first in his love story. Or take Devdas for the example of an obsessed lover. The love of Devdas for Paro has so much overshadowed the love on part of Paro!
I don’t know whether I will call someone like Devdas a famous lover or an infamous lover. For, most of my contemporary males laugh at him, or curse him for not being practical! Does there exist too much difference in the yearning of Devdas for Paro and that of Shree Radha for Krishna?
Females do seem more ridden with emotions, particularly so where the nostalgia of love is concerned. History also has given females more opportunities of longing than of mating. Great rulers and many brave men from history used to possess more than one wives. Of course, such great men did possess tremendous love for each one of them (it can be assumed), and each relation was a successful one, considering each to be unique and independent. But why is no female (or very very few females, to be on the safer side because of my shallow knowledge, again) in history cited to own more than one husbands? Are such females glorified at all by history? Or is it like “His” story, written by “him”, so “She” is not to be glorified anyways? (Ya, I admit, at times I do sound a feminist!)
Traits like viraha are portrayed to be a cowardly action on part of males. But interestingly, Shree Ramchandra, the great avatar of the Hindus and the ideal man of all times (Maryada Purushottam), was in fact, found immersed in viraha when Sita was abducted by Ravana. (Again, several interpretations of Ramayana exists, and I remind you all of the shallowness of my knowledge). Common sense tells me that he was a loving husband, and it was out of his love for Sita, and his deep pining for his wife, that Ramchandra took all the pains to go to a far off land and defeat the tyrant to bring his love back to him.
But there again exists some inexplicable vagueness about the climax of such great love stories. Krishna left for Mathura, and Sita was forced to go to Pataalpuri! Do these not seem idiosyncrasies on part of such great lovers? When the love for a woman came into conflict with establishing other great traits like courage or lawfulness or ruling people, great men chose the latter. Perhaps men don’t know how to persist with the profoundness of love for a woman for the entire life, while women are left with no other option but to symbolize only a nostalgic yearning!
But there is no doubt about the fact that at some point of time, all people in love feel this sense of desirous longing for the company of their lovers! The not-so-normal states of minds of so many people in viraha have given birth to so many great poems, songs, prose, paintings and God knows how many different art forms! Call all of them lunatics, call them absent-minded, call them crazy! Yet they personalize some of the strongest emotions that are so unique to the limbic of the humans! They are the people in love!
Reasonings like other wives of Krishna are but the manifestations or expansions of the first lover Radha, are something I am not yet able to physically imagine or appreciate at this stage. But with what has happened with me personally till now, all I can say is that,
Viraha cannot be ignored, and so can’t be the indelible imprint of Radha as a sign of deep love over the hearts of millions, across all the barriers of time and space.

The forest fire

2008-10-21T07:00:00.000-07:00

I so wished to join Abhisekh in his trip to Calcutta! I badly wanted to go to Dakshineshwar and Belur Math with him! But nature has its own ways of making up for a loss as well. While it did not allow me to spend a lovely evening sitting beside the Bhagirathi-Hooghly in the serenity of the Math enjoying the fragrance of the special agarbatti found only in Belur and nowhere else on earth (Abhisekh thinks that agarbatti can be polluting as well, and he actually had a cough because of the smell! God! he is so susceptible!), nature balanced itself by presenting to me an eye-capturing illustration! That of a forest fire! It was there for me to witness, and only me!
I had always asked people in IITBombay why at some point of time in the year the Sameer Hill becomes absolutely carbon-black. But all used to say that someone might have lit up dried leaves and branches. Today I could know who it was.
My Prof’s room gives a scenic view of the Sameer Hill. The window is strategically located I must say. It cuts away the unnecessary concrete edifices, which would have otherwise engulfed the view, and allows only the garnishing of the hill by the trees from sides to be seen. I had to take a supplementary test of fluid mechanics for a BTech guy, who missed the earlier scheduled test. It so happens that I love everything about IITBombay somehow. No wonder it pulled me back within 3 months of leaving it. “Jhank-er koi jhank-e firechhe” as my mother puts it (the lone fish has found and gone back to her people and place!).
The test started in the afternoon. I looked outside, and started thinking (or ‘day-dreaming about nothing’ as a more sensible person might describe). With thoughts of long-forgotten songs or long-cherished special moments thronging my mind, the Sameer Hill outside the window served as the out-of-focus yet visible backdrop. A little portion on the top of the hill was black. I started reading a bit, and yet again immersed myself in my day-dreaming. As if I am missing something, or someone. After 10 mins, I could get back into my consciousness! What the hell! What am I doing? I have developed all signs of an idle mind! Is there anything by which I can stop it from being a devil’s workshop?
Thoughts start coming back to the present moment and the focus returns to the not so visible backdrop- the Sameer Hill. Is that some kind of smoke I see? Is it that someone has actually lit up the dried leaves and branches? That too, in simultaneous places? Holy spirit! Half of the hill is now black within 10 minutes! How is it ever possible for someone to stimulate such a large scale fire in such a short time?
Within few moments, I could make out it is forest fire! I could see the orange flames going desperate by the windy breezes. One portion of the hill catches fire, scorches, emit fumes as the burning gets completed, while the fire moves on searching for its next victim, the neighboring portion! Wildness expressed in its most crude form!
I could see a flock of black birds! Why are there so many birds in the middle of the fire and smoke? Is it that they will readily get dead worms and insects for a lunch, without too much effort?
O hello! This is a forest fire! Is anyone even watching? Shall I run to Sameer Hill right now? Why don’t I have a binocular? (interestingly, I wished for a binocular, and not a camera!!)
Out of excitement, I told the Btech student, “Have you ever seen a forest fire?” Well, a venturimeter and a forest fire do not go quite hand in hand really! He gave me a glare! I knew I disturbed him! “No”, and he went back into solving the paper!
I have never seen something like this! I muttered to myself! This is not a beautiful picture, not a soothing one either. Not something to be proud of. Certainly not a mesmerizing experience! But I was so overwhelmed! Something that is there for the first time! Something that I had never ever witnessed before! It was a magic! And I saw it through the window, and not in the Discovery or National Geographic channel!
And it was there for me. Only for me! In a very ordinary October afternoon, when the entire IIT was busy doing academic activities, eating or sleeping, or escaping from the scorching sunlight, I was presented an excitement! An urge to just look at my window and not do or think anything else for 30 minutes! My window to the wild!

Tuesdays with Morrie

2008-10-21T06:57:00.000-07:00

It’s amazing how a small book, written by someone whom you had never heard of before, someone belonging to a different country and a different culture altogether, about someone who is a very ordinary human being with ordinary aspirations and a simple way of living life, can make you feel you are born again the next morning. The city was the same while I travelled to office, on yet another unmotivated Monday, by an auto-rickshaw, sitting beside the driver, so typical of Kolkata. It was a cloudy morning, with two of my co-passengers in the back-seat dozing off, surrendering themselves to the gloom of the air around. (Monday morning witnessing office-going people doze off, now you know why I call such mornings unmotivated!) Prolonged traffic jams, child beggars trying to rekindle the inherent human kindness in you (while you actually feel continuously bugged instead), newspapers heralding the highly probable exit of automobile giant Tata Motors from the state, because of a badly played game of politics, my client calling me up too frequently over the cell-phone, desperate in his attempts to bargain for a reduction in the in-voice while I am obliged not to insult him back for his irrational and indignant arguments, and an earlier almost stagnant queue for auto-rickshaws- the morning had nothing exceptional. Yet, I felt on top of the world. I could feel the fragrance of the season’s first chhatim flowers, though they hadn’t yet blossomed! I looked at the sky, overwhelmed by its expanse and color, like I had not done in a long time! I observed people who were passing by, and tried to remember their faces even if they were complete strangers! How I was mesmerized by the beauty of the day! The beauty of life!
For, it was only the day before that I finished reading the book entitled “Tuesdays with Morrie” by Mitch Albom. Don’t expect any more vignettes please, as I have already invoked enough curiosity in you, which you will satisfy on your own. My job is done. Now you go and read the book, while I re-live that Monday morning, which apparently seemed unmotivated, yet provided me with the impetus to shirk away all that was negative, all that I feared, and to replenish myself with a reverberating upbeat vibration, that will see me through my life!
So there was I, travelling in the auto-rickshaw, almost providing the driver a free hug, to ensure that I don’t fall off (I actually feel this is a very philanthropic idea of the auto-rickshaw union of Kolkata to allow passengers to sit beside the driver, for, it has all the gestures which indicate increased brotherhood between the passenger and the driver). (And oh! How I feel tempted to add a smiley to the last sentence that I wrote in brackets, but sadly enough, cyber-lingo is yet to be recognized for its glory in literature!)
I had always noticed a striking difference between the attitude of auto-rickshaw drivers in Mumbai (where I was earlier staying), and those of Kolkata. In general, there is a rather obvious disparity between the outlooks towards life of the people of these two cities. But let me not sound vague, and come to the point as to why I am talking about rickshaw drivers. In Mumbai, I had never seen passengers queuing up for rickshaws. It had always been the other way round.
While in Kolkata, there had been an abundance of occasions where I noticed at least twenty people (including myself, of course, else I wouldn’t have bothered!) waiting for the rickshaw, while two to three rickshaw-drivers sitting inside their rickshaws a little further away, doing literally nothing, amidst the fussy office-going hours of the morning. It was evident that they were coming for business to start off the day, they were not doing any mechanical servicing of their rickshaws, neither having breakfast, not even taking a break for urinating! Yet they just sat doing nothing, watching the queue grow. What might be the reason that they are not moving their rickshaws while they can clearly see the plight of the office-goers who are getting late? Why are they so much lackadaisical towards their job? Why is taking rest the first thing they do in the morning? Why do they lack an earnestness for what earns them their livelihood? I fail to understand the rationale! I try to observe them to find a reason. They are not even talking to other fellow drivers! They are simply doing nothing!
I quit on trying comprehending their schema. There’s no point, I decide. I do that, because that is what is easy. I do what I am best at, shutting myself up, away from the world around me by putting on my headphones and listening to music.
And then, to my utter irritation I find that, when most of us in the queue had given up, sweated to falling drops from forehead, or a bus about to come to sweep away all the waiting people, the considerate driver finally moves his vehicle to pick us up in front of the queue. It seems his desire for people feeling dependent on him for his favor has been quenched at last!
I see this every two days. This ignoble act of disrespect towards one’s own profession at the rickshaw stand! Yet I prefer floating my body into the ocean of inactivity, as does everyone else. A few of us standing in the queue don’t hesitate to abuse the drivers for being lazy, but we, ourselves are even more lazy to walk a few meters to ask them why they are behaving in such a manner, which would seem very weird, if not unimaginable at a rickshaw stand in Mumbai. Had these drivers been fighting for their bread in Mumbai, they will know what struggle for existence means! Ignorance is the root of all sins- I mutter to myself as my ego establishes itself as a gyan-guru, deriving theorems to evaluate others’ behaviors.
This was all. This was all I could conclude, until it was the next day of my finishing “Tuesdays with Morrie”. Monday morning, I find the vehicle quickly. Thanks to mother, I started early. I grasp the opportunity and show my brotherhood towards the driver by sitting beside him, while he makes his way through the crammed city roads.
Should I speak to the person next to me? I ask myself. Would I ask him what might be the reason some rickshaw drivers behave in such an objectionable manner? Does he himself do that ever? Does the distress of the passengers caused by them make any difference in their lives? Should I take a survey by talking with different rickshaw-drivers everyday, and then let the union or the authority answer why there exists a woeful situation when there is absolutely no logic behind it?
I think. And I also think that I am after all an ordinary and selfish person, and not a social worker. I have got other things to do in life, like handling clients, mugging up words for my GRE, answering my peers, and doing music and dreaming about reality shows when I had some free time. Why do I need to take any additional pressure and hamper the creative thinking of my brain at all? I was happy doing what I was doing. I was exploring the world anyways!
Moreover, didn’t I know what being a social worker leads to? Didn’t I read newspapers? Didn’t I believe that the only fate a male social worker could have was facing legal trials, and the only fate a female social worker could have was being raped? Oh yes, I am not courageous. But at least I am also not a fool, to destroy my life, and my dignity in society!
But I had read “Tuesdays with Morrie” the night before!
So I had to speak.“Do you feel discomfort talking while driving??” I ask the driver, all on a sudden.
“What?” he asks. Evidently, he is surprised. So is everyone else in that vehicle. He is a middle aged man, with 2-3days of growing white beard, wearing a shabby T-shirt. It was astonishing! I had never looked at the face of any rickshaw driver ever in the last one year, while I travelled by rickshaw daily! I didn’t recognize anyone of them! Did they also notice who is entering and leaving their vehicles?
“Sometimes I feel a little disturbed while talking and driving simultaneously, especially today, my brake is not working properly”, he said, “but why, Madame?”
“No, it’s ok, if you cannot talk now. I actually wanted to talk to you!” came out of my mouth, so involuntarily! “Tuesdays with Morrie” was already doing its job!
“You can talk with me, Madame”, said he, “what is it?”
“I actually wanted to know something. I have observed over the past one year, that during very busy office hours, some rickshaw drivers just don’t move, and enjoy the quandary of the sweating passengers standing in the queue” I tell him. He laughed. And so did my co-passengers.
“What do you think might be the psychology behind them, Sir? Have you done that ever yourself?” I find myself resilient and straight-forward. I was never like this. “Do you think they enjoy that people are looking forward to their favor?”
“No Madame. There might be many reasons behind that.”
“That is the reason, what else? Their nature is like that only!” insinuated a co-passenger. One of the two who were trying to have a nap. Our conversation had awakened both of them! For, he had got a free chance to curse the rickshaw-drivers, without himself having to take the pains to commence the topic! It seemed funny to me! But it was ok. I would have also done that if I were in his position, had I not read “Tuesdays with Morrie”.
But it was also important for me to let the driver speak. Because, being a passenger myself, I was aware of the point of view of the passengers anyways. I needed to erase off my ignorance, by looking at the situation from the drivers’ perspective.
“What can be the reasons, Sir? Would you please tell me?” I ask. I was more polite than ever before!
“See, different people drive rickshaws. Some drive and own, while others pay a rent of the vehicle to the owner. While some are bachelors, some have the burden of raising a family! Also, it is important for us to take rest, as we don’t have holidays! If I am not at my ancestral home at Midnapore, I drive 365 days a year. Even when it is a strike, we have to come for the duty. Every morning I need to supply my family with food!”
Things start becoming clearer to me. Time for me to think. I can imagine myself working for the entire year, without any holidays. Will I not doze off even on Monday mornings? My co-passengers were dozing off even after having the day before as a holiday! I felt ashamed!
“Those who are not raising a family, can afford to take rest, can’t they, Madame?” the driver speaks again! I feel ashamed again. I am continuously addressing him as “a driver” only!
“What is your name, Sir?” I ask.
“Sushanta Jana”, he replies, “See Madame, I know that some of us do not behave properly with the passengers, while we must understand that it is our profession which earns bread for us. Everyone have their own way of life and living. However, I admit that sometimes it might seem wrong. For example, if I need to take rest, I do that at my home, not keeping passengers waiting for me.”
“Very good. You are being true to your profession”, I suddenly felt proud of the humble rickshaw driver. Sushanta had more insight to problems in life than all others travelling in that rickshaw at that point of time.
“You have your family in Midnapore?” I ask. We were becoming friends. It just needs a few words, and a little care. People has so much to say!
“No, they stay here with me. But my parents are there. I have two daughters. I will go and pick them up from home and drop them school, after I drop you all to Gariahat. I can’t take rest, Madame. I need to pay two hundred rupees to the owner of the rickshaw everyday.”
“And your wife?” I ask.
“She does some stitching works sometimes. Nothing is regular. I have to pay the rent of the house that we stay. Provide for the expenses of my daughters’ studies.”
And later on you will have to provide for the expenses of their marriage as well- I told, but silently and to myself only. I could understand. Poverty is plentiful in India, and hence can be easily and closely related to.
We talked a little more, when suddenly I realized, it was time for me to get down. My destination had come. The perspective I wished to study, had been incorporated into me already.
“Take my fare, Sushanta Babu. I will get down here. I felt really nice talking to you. I am sure we will meet again!”
There was a grin in his face. I smiled as well, and bid him goodbye.
I placed my back-sac in its position, crossed the road and started walking towards my office.
I am not sure whether I will chase my mission of interviewing other rickshaw-drivers, and make it a point that the authority/union addresses the problems faced by passengers. May be I wont be able to be a social worker ever in my life. But is that necessary anyhow? Understanding each other can address all grudges, I realized. I knew at least that I would never complain again about waiting in the sun for a rickshaw at the stand while coming to office.
As I entered my workplace, a broad smile had enlightened my face. It was there to stay.

tumi

2008-01-29T04:47:00.000-08:00

bhorer ghum tokhono lege chhilo chokh-e....
r tomar gondho-ta tokhono tomar kothai mone koriye dichhilo...
aami kano palate cheyechhilam tomay chhere?
tumi toh boloni tomar jogyo ami noi....
aamar chhaya-o je tomar jonno oshubho, emon bisshas aamar kano holo?
tomar atmiyo, tomar jaat, tomar somaj, eder niye sukhe theko.
gorbo koro.
tobe eta mone rekho....
tomar jaat-er i bhruno aamar modhye bere uth-chhe....

anonymous

2008-01-27T03:04:00.000-08:00

so i am safe....
i saved myself.
trust me, i did.
i barred myself from it.
it was burning from inside, but i poured water onto it.
its frozen, and forever.
i have destroyed all that i built through my life.
all those who made me, me. i have killed them all.
so now let the insects and the vultures come
and pierce through my body.
let the last rites finish.
ya, you bet, i can act in any role you want me to...
and trust me, i will be good at it.

aami agontuk...aami barta dilam

2008-01-27T02:44:00.000-08:00

they say...happiness cannot be a destination, it is the journey itself. so here i am, the happiest person on earth. what?? you dont believe me??
seems i will have to tell you a little more about myself...
right now, i am enjoying my stay @ IITB. i am, well..., let's say, fairly good at acads [:P], i watch a hell lot of movies and so many goodthings are available, thanks to LAN, and i do take part in some music activities which are just awesome here. etuku bolte pari, i had nevertaken music so seriously in life, the way i am taking it in out here.and i meet my boyfriend once in a month, and we have a gr8 timetogether, both fighting (which is mostly from my part) and loving(which is mostly from his part) [:P]. isnt it simply gr8 [:)] ?? imean, what else do u want from life?
and that makes me...god's favorite child..[:)]