Can I ..

Can I be a kid again ?

.. when rain meant holiday from the school, the yawn extended to the afternoon, cold lunch from the tiffin box eaten with hot tea as breakfast, a run-in with madness as we drenched our way to oblivion, loud shrieks and a free mind !

.. when I wanted to be everything, everyday and mostly would be – a pilot now, a cricketer then, a police inspector after that !

.. when I could blow bubbles back into my cold drink, uncaring of hygiene and ‘oh-what-would-she-think’ !

.. when nose-pricking or ass-scratching were not social taboo, but just frowned upon !

.. when future meant the next Sunday and the summer vacations, and was not meant to be afraid of !

.. when crisis meant a broken window, not a broken heart !

.. when I thought of pain while at the dentist’s and not the bill !

.. when every noise from the sky was an airplane, and the gaze angled its way across the sky till you hit the scooter on the road !

.. when there was no B added to the school, and engineering was just a word with a tough spelling !

.. when Recess meant taking food, playing hide and seek and that long line at the water cooler, not a financial crisis driven by bad mortgage loans leading to loss of jobs and hike freezes !

.. when percentages were only discussed after results, in a cursory way, and had no effect on the money in your pocket !

*Inspired from a modest salary ‘melt’ in the modest life of yours truly!

The dream job

He hung the puppets back on the wall, no strings attached. It had been a long hard day. Yet He longed for satisfaction. It was meant to be a stop-gap arrangement, but He never managed to move out. Sometimes, He figured, it’s not a question of options, it’s more about inertia – an innate tendency to let things stay, unruffled. A deep exhale marked the end of yet another day. He looked at the fogged window pane with a tinge of bitterness and wrote His name on the droplets with a finger. As He looked outside the window, there it was – the usual humdrum going on, a world that never slept – the lights flickering, the hum of the traffic, slow but moving, moving towards another day, at a rummaging grumpy confident pace of a giant.

It had been a long time, and yet He never got used to being a part of the usual goings on of His world. It felt strangely apprehensive to be on the top, alone, working odd hours, hours and hours of mind numbing repetitive work day in and day out. Sometimes, He wondered aloud, whether anything He did made any impact, and there was not a soul in the vicinity to hear His musings. That led Him to make indistinct maneuvers to make it interesting, subtle and yet endearing. He felt needy, mildly depressive and yet in control. Another one bites the dust .. played in His walkman. His beeper read in gold font, A.G, blinking, on the desk, signified the end of His break.

The hand written ‘Almighty God’ on the window slowly melted away as the street light lit up the room for the next shift.

P.S Even the dream job is not that dreamy after-all, playing god is tough and I bet He feels feel underpaid, and overworked !

Disclaimer: I have all creative liberty without being blasphemous. In my defense, I have used, or at-least tried to use, a capital ‘H’ for Him everywhere. And finally, I am sure I would have loved Him if I had faith.

Moving on

S: Have you looked at yourself. You look horrible.

I: (Bemused, self smiling) I treasure that. That is courtesy what he does to me. It’s a gift ..

S: Aah! You have got to get realistic. Get rid of him. He is driving you insane. You look like a moaning spider caught in its own web. (Chuckle)

I: Ironical indeed. A moaning spider .. I think of it more like an aura, a sense of being, a distinct look to me.
It thrills me as I look into the mirror and see a different person.

S: But, you look awful to the world, the sane world that is. You ought to leave him.

I: But he says I am the most loyal to him. He enjoys our time together and moreover ..

S: Oh, but that look it leaves on you is pathetic.

I: .. and he is economical !

S: You .. ! You know what, there a thousand better than him out there .. let me take you to mine. My treat.

I: (moving closer to the mirror) Maybe you are right, I need to move on. I need to cut him out of my life now.

And I have a new barber now

Hey Kala Bandar

It is a typical Saturday morning. I am sitting in my bed-room savoring hot coffee and Times of India. The neighborhood computer plays the album “Dilli 6″ in the background. The smell of fresh uttapam wafts in the air around. And as I cuddle in my beloved blue blanket wondering while whistling – What more could one ask for ?

And suddenly, I hear the ruckus.

Cook – Bhaiyya, Bhaiyya !!
I – What happened? (Leisurely getting out of the blanket)

And as I lift my half-opened unspectacled eyes, there it is – just at the door of my bedroom. My heartbeat is rising. I can feel the thump against my chest. The seconds start passing ever so slowly. I can see a look of confidence in its eyes. And I imagine the panic in mine. The growl turns into a smile at my helplessness. I am cornered, befuddled and terribly afraid. The time flows like water through a block of wood. Ever so slowly – as if the hero and heroine are running from infinity till eternity in a movie. It senses the creep setting in .. and inches closer towards the door. And all of a sudden, my class VIII teacher’s lines echo in my by-now-completely numb mind. As she pointed to the picture of a monkey – supposed to be an ancestor to our species – she said.

“The brain is what differentiates us .. that is how we evolved, our brains grew.”
“But, Rohit has been left behind.”

And the whole class laughed as I awoke to my name.

Anyhow, after I established superiority in my mind, in a flash, I picked a slipper and threw at it. But, it was hellbent on proving me wrong. It ducked and growled. I picked another slipper and this time, aimed at the door. The door inched slightly on its hinges and hid me from his view. I self surprisingly summer-saulted across the bed and closed the door. Now, I shrieked from the balcony to the security guy. Apparently he knew and I didn’t know that he knew. He just turned corner as I shrieked without even a look of reassurement. I shouted again

I – Bhaiyya, bhaiyya ! Main Gate khol do ..

And our cook bhaiyya opened the gate. By the time, it had traversed two of the four rooms and left its mark in one of them. The computer is playing “Hey kala bandar” as I wipe our weekend’s first visitor’s “marks”. The lines of the song echo against the walls of the room, the meaning echoes against the walls of my heart.

*True story of my life as it was half an hour ago.

Sujoy speaks

I can’t recall how many times I have had this feeling. It’s almost like deja vu.
Heights have a drastic effects on the psyche of all. Some relate it to power, glory. Some relate it to a sense of betterness, superiority. To me, height has always been .. a medium, a preposterous deceitful lure. I have been to all suicide points .. its like being home .. imagining what it would be like .. this feeling of freefall .. and a void at the end of it .. It attracts me to it. It is a fatal attraction, constant and unnerving at times. All I think of when in elevators is how it would feel, when I am up there. That is what makes it a wound. A wound on the top of your mouth, which would heal itself, if you stop tounging it, but you can’t. And it grows, grows on your reluctance and yet inability to give in.
I have talked to my shrink about it. At first, she used to think it is acrophilia of some sorts, thats what made me an interesting case. She used to take interest in me. I was a one-off case. But, it all unfurled slowly to her.
She says its a sign of clinical depression, she says I like heights because I imagine them to be ambitions, and mine have not been fulfilled, thats why this glory with heights and suicide. She pretends she knows it all and maybe she does it.
But if any of my ambitions have drowned .. I dont know of it. If I ever fostered an ambition, I don’t know of it. All i know is … this puff will be my last .. I will finally embrace the ecstacy of freefall

… it was a lovely show .. my life … but the best part to me is the climax…

-Sujoy

R and M.

M: Is there some distraction?
R: *Yes, You.* No M, All good. (Thumbs up and a Rascal’s smile)

M: See, I know you have it in you. But..
R: *Yawn. Not again.* (Thumbs going down, Rascal’s smile fading)

M: It seems you take it a little casually. You have a pretty careless image here.
R: (Eyes wide open, mouth wide open, legs wide open) It’s more of a-carefree-sort, M.

M: And how is that different?
R: *I am not so sure, mine seems soothing to the ears* It is. I do not neglect what I undertake, It’s just that I don’t undertake much.

M: Hmm, To me that’s one and the same thing. You don’t seem to take challenges.
R: *Bah* But of course, I am waiting for the right things to come along.

M: R, greatness thrives in adversity not in a nice hot-bath tub. *Smirk
R: I think otherwise. Remember Archimedes. *Self-congratulation

M: But, you ought to have goals.
R: *Yesterday is History .. Tomorrow is a Mystery .. Today is a gift.*
Yes, M.
You have yours, And I have mine.

M: Ok, so lets discuss and see if they align.
R: That is one great rhyme.

M: *Smirk* You .. You will never learn.

Turns and goes away.

R’s MindSight
M: You… you’re just a big… fat… panda!
R: I’m not a big fat panda. I’m the big fat panda.

Kung-Fu Panda – Lovely movie btw.

Disclaimer: It’s all fictional. Do not try to trace back. Or else .. Eeh Aah, Kung-Fu Punch in your face

Pappu Pass Ho Gaya ..

Pappu pass ho gaya !

The day I complete my First Year in Bangalore, I get my UG degree as well.
Its been a merry year

So what

So many people are in so much hurry.
“I need that done by tomorrow, It’s urgent.” Boss to employee.
“I have to go to work early tomorrow, hurry up. It’s urgent.” Employee to Wife.
“Now, please go to sleep, baba. I have to wake up early.” Wife to kid.
“O bhaiyya, make it fast, I have lot of work. I am in a hurry.” Wife to auto-rickshaw driver, on the way.
“Hey madam, it is hundred rupees, not a penny less. Pay fast, I am in a hurry.” Auto-rickshaw driver to the lady, after the way.
The waiter at CCD is in a hurry to serve table number 4. People sitting at table number 4 are in a hurry to get served. Many people are in a hurry to board the plane. More people are in a hurry to get down.
I am one of them. But I do not feel the hurry. Strangely so, even as the petite young man, with a stone-heavy suitcase, lands on my feet as the plane lands on its, I let out a shriek cry, surfacial though. As my mind wanders off, a thousand mobiles are switched on at the same time.
“Yeah, I have reached Pa. Its 7:30 here. Yes, it is thirty minute late. Yes, I will book a cab. I will call you once I get the luggage.”
“What the heck, no taxi booked. How do you think I am supposed to reach there? Fly(for the sake of a presentable word) off.”
I never understood why “viman ka sanchalan” is not immune to mobile phones? And what if, a ignorant innocent phone is left switched on, will the plane come crashing down on a lovely, scenic island? Will the pilot lose control, and in the calm reassuring way that is signature of him, tell us all, “Good evening all, This plane is out of control because Ramnaresh switched his mobile on, It will still be 32 minutes before we crash land in the bay of bengal, all passengers are requested to be seated and put on the seat-belt. As pilot and Ramnaresh’s brother, I thank you all for travelling.”
Anyways, so the point here is, I am not in hurry perhaps, because unlike many of us, I can not see what in near future will make me happy. I do not have any stars to aim at, so metaphorically speaking, I cannot fall on a moon. I am pretty much grounded in a reality that I do not believe in. And I am not very good at Random writing, though I am bad at aimed writing also.
So what.

Here is a recent picture of the trip on which the aeroplane realisation happened.
Kolkata – 74 Kms
People in focus – Rohit, Paulraj
See the smile on my face.

And here is one in the car on the way back
People in Focus – Rohit, Vishal
See how much of the frame I fill up.

Shallow laughter.

“You were just so laid back in your ironies, just too self-un-involved. Always going round-about about and about .. again and again .. It was I who made life a challenge for you. I gave you direction, a way forward, I brought you face to face with reality, with truth ….”
“Truth is just a sequence of random ideas, coincidences life throws at you, especially you, that you try to put together and see a bigger picture. The truth is that there is no truth. It’s all perception, your or mine, and mine says fuck the bigger picture ! I bask in the glory of my insignificance, I don’t matter and so I don’t care.”
“And the bullcrap begins again. You really don’t give a shit to life, do you?”
“Life, aah! How strange it sounds coming from you, you just suck the juice out of it, churn it about and .. “
“Cut the crap, Roh.., there really is no worth talking to you. You don’t care about those who care, you don’t ..”
“All I can say is, here we are celebrating the uselessness of a man, barely a man, in your supposed bigger picture. But to see the picture, you have to step out of the frame. That is what I am doing, when no one sees you, you see everything. I am just cleaning the lens, and for that the glasses have to be removed. I can go on and on with the metaphors as thats all I want to do … you need not bother.”
“I need not bother! All you ever do bothers me, bothers all of us. You are dumb, not suited for the world, our world.”
“Or maybe, the world is not suited for me. All I am trying to do is find out.”
“And what good would that do?”
“Why do you breathe?”
“What the fuck .. you are just …”
“No, no please answer. Why do you breathe?”
” Because you ass, if I don’t I will die”
“And if I don’t find out, I will die.”
“I guess that would be better, atleast for you.”
“Well, what can I say? I will find out.”

“Waiter, Bill please.”

Shallow laughter resumes and still no one cares.

Return of the Dark Ages

These are dark times for word-smithy and letter-play
..
as once again the sword becomes mightier than the pen
..
Now thoughts and pots and what-nots are just wet clay
..
Sitting besides a dead soul outside the fearful den
..
Not what strikes nor what slays, but what stays
..
And buries the spirit of could-have-been men
..
Is a fostering story – a brewing thought and long delays
..
Tell me what to do, then !