A Memory Coined

On the way to Muzaffarpur from my nanihal there is Dumariya Ghat Bridge, considered sacred for reasons unknown to me. As we were approaching the bridge I told ma that the bridge you threw coins from was coming. She laughed. So did I. She knew I was being sarcastic of this ritual of throwing coins in river in the name of faith. She took out few coins and threw it in the river when we were on the bridge, a practice I have seen her following ever since I started making memories. She must be doing it even before that. Then she narrated how papa used to frown whenever she asked him to slow down the car to throw the coins. He used to say if throwing few coins is going to bring good luck then why didn’t she took out all her jewelry and threw them in the river.
I guess the humor that I find in some, or rather most, of the rituals is something as hereditary as my receding hairline. :D

Who is to blame?

I broke my lappy few days back. .. thats a different topic will talk about that later.nothing to do so i was surfing the tv channels at the strike of hour AAJ TAK was showing temperatures of various capital cities of Indian states. The mercury dipping like anything made me go curious to know the temp and sufferings of my fellow countrymen. But at the end of the minutes long graphics was shocked and angry and disgusted. well disgust is something that usually comes after watchng any news channel, but this time the reason was something different.

The bloody channel showed temperature of Guwahati and then came down south to Kolkata. Now when China clams Arunachal P to be their territory then what different are these people doing? I was shocked to see that these news channel dont even consider showing the temperature of the NE states.And the next time China claims some Indian state to be theirs then watch out for the same channels crying their lungs out.

Hypocrite Bastards !!!!!

Lesson Revised

End of day three, Pakistan had Australia under their heels bleeding. On day four the test match ended but it was Australians who were seen having the last laugh. It was only the 5th time that a team trailing by more than 200 runs have come victorious, and Australians truly deserved to be one of those teams.While watching an Aus Vs Pak test match I was thinking of Saurav Ganguly. Any one can win a couple of days of battle with the Australians, but very few had the will to go on to win the war. Dada was one such warrior.Even today when I look at the beaming members of team India I always see an invisible face in background. A smiling Saurav Ganguly.

The man who taught us how to win when we are supposed to, and also quite a few times how to win when we were not supposed to.Pakistan lost a match not for the lack of skill or talent. The men who are good enough to have the opponent on the mat are equally capable of winning, but for the determination and belief. Pakistan lacked that, at least nowadays they do. I missed Dada the day India was crowned No. 1 in test ranking. And even today I remembered him. I am thankful that one of the finest leader once led a pack of few of my countrymen. A team in which very few supporters truly believed. Actually those who didn't believe can't be termed supporters. So i will rephrase- He led a team which had very few 'supporters'.

Thank you Dada, for the memories, for the victories, for giving team India a lot more supporters.But above all thank you for a live demonstration of so valuable a lesson 'Belief'.

Why ?

Why do people write blogs?I don’t know the answer. But to look simply there can only be 2 reasons.

1.To say something about yourselves,

2.To say something about others.

I don’t know why I started writing mine. Now, to the point. I m writing this blog of mine after a gap of I don't know how long ( because I don’t want to check the last post's time and day , please pardon me. **)

** The above pardon is written, if someone actually read the crap I write.

Now, about my self. I am searching for a website or some data storage place where I can put down my pondering and wondering in writing or in media understable by the human race. Well that’s easy, some one will think, there are lots of solutions. But the problem is I want that to get to the concerned people after some time. Like a future date is mentioned only after that day media will be made known. Not that I have something to confess. Then why?

Now comes the second point : about others. There are things I wanna say to people concerned to me or related to me and likewise. Again, why I cant say those things to them now only. Its my idea and/or way of thinking. I don’t praise people in front of them. And I have nothing to say against anyone. So, that’s the only answer to the “why?”. So I am still searching for that place.

After finishing this blog, I did a revision. So then I realized I had missed something.

LEGALIZE MARIJUANA.

Not a lyrics or a poem

Deep down the darkness

I wander alone, withering away

Looking for the light to show me the way

But alas, I m already burnt out and faded

There is no fuel left,

I’ve been left stranded in this search, jaded

Coz the thing that can sail me through

Is it the same what I’m looking for?

I don’t know when it’s going to stop

This reeling that I feel in my head

I’m waiting for may be when I’m dead.

I’m falling unstopped in a tailspin

The explosion is inevitable

It’s just being delayed

Like a black hole I’m contracting within

My affair gone public

It’s my first blog for two months. Exam and travelling kept me busy and then something else.

It started on pichle mahine ki 26 ko. I and my friend had the taste of marijuana @ home for the first time. Hindi department of the University campus used to be our hang out place for sutta. So it was an automatic choice for joint too. The place is quiet and full of greenery. One day we were sitting in shade at the road side. The road is not used often so there were not many people passing by. So we were smoking and enjoying, expecting no one is going to come here who knows us. After some sutta the joint was between my fingers when my friend whispered "Look who is coming." I swallowed the smoke at the sight of our neighborhood uncle. Uncle was riding pillion on some bike but thanks to the plants and trees we managed to dodge his sight. This was the time when ideally one should have left that place and gone somewhere else to finish the fag. But that’s not us. We finished the joint, got up and went to buy few more sutta. We knew that after a while he will be leaving the department soon and will be returning through that road only. But by that time were flying high and cared for nothing (one of many good things of marijuana or ganja).So we were back at our seats and started session-II. Inevitably the moment came when uncle returned and this time there were no green shield to guard us. He had a good look at us. May be at first he didn’t believe what he saw so he confirmed it by looking back at us repeatedly till we were out of his sight. After he was gone, we thought about what just happened. We panicked at first but after a whike felt relaxed thinking that he might be thinking that we were smoking when actually we were doing one step up. So, no problem.

After a couple of days uncle was at my house, and unfortunately I was at home so had to face him. Quite expectedly he brought up that issue and during some lighter talks he told my mom “I saw him hanging out with friends near the Hindi department” at this point I waited for the next words to come out of him as those were going to be the words which ruined my ideal boy image but seems he didn’t notice us with sutta and he added “that place is also known as Lovers Point, so you better ask him if he is seeing someone”. lol

While smoking joints I was content that even if someone sees us like this , just our smoking won’t be a secret anymore but never in my wildest dreams had I thought that this will be concluded out of my joint session.

Next day we had a good laugh.

Date with myself

So here I was, travelling to Kolkata and Mumbai and back home. After having a few drinks with Sarraf I thought I’ll stay awake to catch my flight, but luckily I fell asleep and had some rest. The first day in Mumbai was a little too hectic. The only rest I got was in the morning on my way to Mumbai. After that had a day of running around in Mumbai to get some work done at the last hour. The insane crowd insured that I didn’t get a date for my exam in June, so now all I can do is to hope that I get it in July. After a long time I bought some books and felt just like old days going through them. “Many Lives Many Masters” was a good read but with very few new things. Anyways since it was Rohit’s recommendation I had go through it. And I am posting this blog taking my time out of reading “The Kite Runner”.

Apart from re-uniting me with my habit of spending time with books, this journey kept me away from most of the things that kept me occupied and gave me a good time to spend just with me. The debate with me, about myself was something I hadn’t in a long time. And the wait was worth it. Went through days and years from past, it was like reading pages from my diary. Remembered the good times and so did the tough ones. It reminded me of my lines:

Memory is what?
It is also a kind of magic. It makes you relive the events that happened to you.
Its like time travel, you can slow the time, go back, watch the things that happened, and you can come back. But, the only problem is like you can’t really change things that have already happened, like u can do that theoretically in a time travel.

Not that I wanted to or want to change anything but reliving those moments certainly helps in analysis sometimes. 

The good thing about tough times (there is no time as BAD time) is that they let us know with whom we are going to spend the good times when they return and sure they will, as they have always.

First Impression : The last Impression??? ... Well, not always

It was a short stop on our way to Bangalore. So we three decided to take a look at the city. 3 hours, a metro ride and some roaming around later I came to the conclusion that this is not a city I would like to visit again. That was my short visit to The City of Joy, Kolkata.

6 years later, today, the perception has changed. It was not love at first sight but slowly but surely I have come to like this city. While getting my document all ready to get them transferred I came to realize that now I am being disconnected from this city. Well, anyway I was not to be here for the next one and half year or so, but still the feeling lingered. And these moments are not me and my college, strangely it was me standing still and watching the soul of Kolkata rushing past me.

The fun filled outings in city, those late night parties at rest/bars whose list is endless .Returning back all senseless and drunk.

Asking addresses from strangers and when telling them” Aami bangla bujhte pari na”, their attempt at translating their answer into Hindi.

Our abuses for the crazy climate of the city. The heat was bearable but the humidity was a word that we came to abhor over the years. It was just too much.

The torturous bus rides, serene tram experience and the hustling metro trips. Not to forget the ferry rides and watching the sun settling down slowly.

Watching people standing in bus queue, for almost an hour, to get a seat in the next bus. Even till today I haven’t understood why they stand for so long to have an hour ride back home sitting. One of the most interesting scenes - whoever got seat in bus would fall asleep no matter if its journey to office in the morning or they are returning home.

The most famous one liner about Kolkata that I heard, “if you can’t get a girl in Kolkata you can never get a girl at any other place”. Well, I never agreed to this theory but my friends had enough instances to prove that adage.

The Adda culture of Kolkata is something thats sets the mood of the city. Groups of various age groups hanging out together in their locality was a sight.

I had just left MMD, had light a smoke that these memories came flooding and the rain just added that much drama into it. It felt like the rain is soaking me to the core. I was happy for there was no sight of taxi on my way back. But as Tanta and Dharam wanted to avoid rain, pretty sadly I had to return by taxi. Again I left taxi at their place and started my last leg of walk in the rain of Kolkata. Also had one last dig at not to be forgotten, tasty golgappas .

As my walk came to end the rain stopped and the sense of nostalgia was taken over by the memory of my first short stop at the city. I laughed and thought “How wrong first impressions could be.”

Whoever said that First impression was the last impression , was certainly out of his mind.