Tuesday, July 19, 2011

The Wet Cigarette

                                            CHAPTER 1

       The day was rough, relentless rain and wrath that it brought with .The sun playing hide and seek with the clouds. The nature had so much to offer but his lips seek out a cigarette instead , the act now so practiced that it barely needs rehearsals. He speaks with breath wrapped in nicotine.

He was his own valentine; composed, comic, tragic and stubborn, all at the same time. His words are like the stars walking on the red carpet.

His canvas was always filled with bright colors but of late it prefers to remains blank. His pallet narrates a tale of tragedy, somehow, the colors doesn't seem to gel anymore .He seems to have lost the magic of making his canvas speak.

He may not be a bookworm but always used to think differently on issues which most used to ignore. But it gave him a lot of confidence to do something on his own. (It gives a feeling of immense pleasure to see your thoughts taking shape)
        
He was hurt, world seemed a bad place to dwell.  After each puff a different thought burst into his head. This time he wondered, “Does graduation marks the beginning of a new life leaving behind the people who helped you climb the ladder?”

That night, he became nostalgic and remembered how his grandmother used to tell stories about miracles, miracles he loved to explore every night, miracles that came out of nowhere.  Oh, he hoped some kind of miracle would take place for his sake!

Life has changed in a whisker and he kept wondering what went wrong. Was he not good enough??? Was he not practical??? Or was it just because life was not beautiful anymore???

He loved his job and it was his only friend. He tried a lot but failed. He was swelled with abilities but slowly he gave them up. He was surprised to see himself begging for a life which would take him away from the crowd which ones he liked. He wanted to but couldn't.  Slowly but surely he was burning inside like a cigarette.

He wanted to get out, wanted to dream once again…

                 
                               To Be Continued...

Monday, April 11, 2011

The Nostalgia...AMAR KOLKATA!!!

                 As we gear up for yet another action filled season of IPL, the home team Kolkata night riders will try and produce a performance which would rather ignite the  lost“banga-priti” among the Bengali race who are busy playing with blood during the season of political unrest...Though a Bangali, I find my people quite "qwirky", here are a few observations which I managed to come across during my short Stint at the city of joy:




Ø According to Bengalis, there are only three kinds Indians – Bengalis/Oriyas, Hindustanis (North Indians) and Madrasis (South Indians)
Ø Someone should tell Bengali Kolkatans not to speak in Hindi with Bihari and Sikh taxiwallahs. Bengalis will never get the hang of the language no matter how much they try.
Ø We all know that Bengalis are obsessed with food…What we may not know is that this obsession has reached such a point that nearly half their income is spent on fish, chicken and vegetables…As a result, there’s no money left to paint the facade of their houses which adds to the shabbiness of Kolkata.When asked, many Kolkatans say, “Who cares about aesthetics.Anyway, old shabby houses add to the character of the city”
Ø Bengalis for some reason pronounce ‘would’/'wood’ as ‘ood’ (the ‘w’ is silent)…Even the ones who have attended St.Xaviers College, Kolkata.
Ø Bengali babus always eat fish curry-rice before leaving for work…Their work day starts at 11 am and ends promptly at 5 pm with a one hour lunch break in the middle. No wonder nothing gets done in Kolkata
Ø The typical Bengali man always does the vegetable and fish/chicken/mutton shopping…This job is rarely entrusted to a woman or a servant…It is common to see unbathed men with uncombed hair in crushed pajama-kurtas at vegetable and fish shops haggling with vendors early in the morning. Bengalis haven’t adapted to the fridge very well as yet. They still feel that all food items should to be bought fresh everyday including butter.
Ø When you take the early morning bus to office,you will either notice people with their ear plugs ignoring everything or the groups which talk about the latest bangle soap “GANER OPARE”. You will want to sing “amake amar moto thakte dao” when the discussion goes to such an extent that young ladies try and associate their life with that of “pupe”, the main protagonist.
Ø Bengali women are dominant and Bengali men are wimps…If you don’t believe me, watch Parineeta and Devdas…Devdas, who drank himself to death because his mother forbade him to marry his true love, is idolised by Bengalis…For them, he’s the epitome of a true lover. The same is true of Shekhar the hero of Parineeta. Although he does marry his love, he doesn’t have the guts to make it public…There are many other stories like these in Bengali literature.
Ø Children especially girls have to learn singing preferably Rabindro Sangeet and obviously the art of FLIRTING is an in-born asset.
Ø Bengalis have a fixation for white foreigners (sada chamra)…Blacks are looked down upon except for Barack Obama. The colonial “HANGOVER” can be still felt and the “ANTEL(pl read in bengali)” bangali is always obsessed with Lennon,Floyd,Bob Dylan,Keats,Shakespear..and so on..the list continues…
Ø Politics is the order of the day and if you have to catch a train or attend a movie…Please make sure you have more than 2hours in hand cos you never know when “DIDI” or “BABU” might “LEAD THE NATION WITH A MICROFONE”, leading the traffic to a standstill for hours.
Ø Bongs in Kolkata are the founders of Adda-chokro,Adults spend their time discussing phootball, rabindro sangeet, dada-giri and CPM/Mamatadidi over cups and cups of tea..
Ø And the chops and singhara and various bhaja bhuji as we call it clearly gives you an answer for their frequent visit to CMC VELLORE and APOLLO HOSPITAL CHENNAI. (I was actually shocked to see menu written in Bengali in shops at “GREAMS ROAD” in CHENNAI where APPOLLO is situated.)
Ø The Jams and the “ANGRY DAILY-PASSENGERS” are to be literally taken care off…otherwise you will really have a tough time!!


Ø When Bengalis go out to eat, they will necessarily order a chicken dish…The problem arises when the chicken dish arrives…If all the pieces are not thangs (legs) they start fuming and arguing with the waiter…Why? Their reasoning is: if we order two plates of chicken, we expect 2 legs per plate… 

Ø And obviously who can forget “OLY PUB” OR “COFFEE HOUSE” or a romantic evening at“THE LAKE” or a movie at “NANDAN” with ones “PRIYOTOMA” or “CRICKET @ EDEN GARDENS”??  It’s the pride of “THE CITY OF JOY” and one should visit these places to actually know what it is.





Ø One thing is pretty hard to find in KOLKATA… “SINGLE”  and “NON SMOKING” girls. Its really a task  to find the rare breed of  females out here. People smoke cigarette like having water.
Ø And if I start elaborating Salt Lake Area, then I don’t think people of that part will appreciate it, but still it’s a disgrace to Bengalis,they are mostly old bunch of left alones (mostly old people whose children have left them to work abroad or “ARISTROCATIC BONGS” who have retired) who have now become businessmen and they screw the people coming to work at sector-5 and indirectly make people say that KOLKATA people are cheats.
Ø And now I should quickly mention the beauty of the “JHOOPS”…don’t think too much, it’s the Jhoopris which is a sort of Dhaba like arrangement for food..I can bet you can’t find food cheaper than this throughout the country.


The “BANGAL-GHOTI” , “ELISH-CHINGRI”, “EASTBENGAL-MOHUN BAGAN”, “CPM-MAMATA DI” fights will continue but in the end, I must confess, I am in love this city..TRULLY SOMEONE HAS RIGHTLY TERMED IT AS “THE CITY OF JOY!!!”
















Monday, March 28, 2011

Wings...


Take me back to thy lap,Oh MOTHER EARTH.
Take back thy son and wrap him in thine ample robe..
Let me be one with thy soil, and spread myself..
Far and wide like the joys of spring..
Let me burst open the heart’s narrow cage..
Breakdown hard stone walls of self…
And the dark and cheerless prison of my mind..
To rush forth in a rapture of delight..
And flow out to the far ends of the world..
Surging, billowing, rolling on…
I am a bird… mourning the loss of his wings..
Mother  Earth, thy son is in pain..
Take away thy son’s pain and  give  thy son Wings to Fly!!!

SERENITY...


The sun has set….
The sun has set, Evening appeared with a gem….
The moon accompanied the stars with a smile….
The river shown brightly amidst the darkness.....
The flower blossomed....A scent of flowers spread everywhere...
The birds are in their nest, the cows moo from their shelter..
Something bothers me...I feel restless...I am searching something....
My endless search continues...I dont know where am I standing...I dont know what am I searching..
At this moment, my conscience  said,”Which flowers will you select? What wealth shall you get?”
I kept wondering.. And closed my eyes...
Goddess of sleep came on my tired lap and took me away to a new World.. 
Where the Creatures of land and water, In feet of the Goddess..
Rested in peace under Her shelter….

Sunday, March 13, 2011

@25...Here I am...This is me..!!!



Gosh!!! You turned 25…Shounak Banerjee…happy b’day to you!!!
I’ve thought so many times over the last year about this particular blog post. About what I’d say and how I’d feel. I didn’t realize it would be quite this emotional.
For once in my life, it seems that words aren’t quite adequate. I have so much I want to communicate, and yet I’ve rewritten these first couple of sentences a dozen times already.
I should start by looking at that list which I wrote back when I was just 24, to see how many things I’ve managed to tick off. After all, that was kind of the point of this blog.
But you’ll remember, dear Reader, that I take exception to the word “should”. And besides, even though I’ve achieved almost all of my original goals, somehow that doesn’t seem quite as important any more. I had questioned myself at 24 “So why not take an experimental (rather than an existential) view of life and ask the far more important question – what do I want to do here?” (http://addadilse.blogspot.com/2010/11/24the-question-is-why-am-i-here.html)
As I think about my birthday, I realise that my feelings about the last few days echo my feelings about the last year in general, and indeed my life so far.
I took a brave decision to come out of my previous job as it was IT and I wanted to be in core. Now it feels great to live my dream. I am doing what I love and getting handsomely paid for it, really sums up the satisfaction.
My mental strength helped me get over with my past and now I have even learnt to hit back at others. Offence is the best form of defence. And it’s better to face a problem than to ignore it!!!
Of course, I’ve also got friends to see and a birthday night doing a night shift at my office with two rats to accompany me. But then, there’s always something to do, isn’t there?
Looking back over the two and half decades I’ve spent on this earth, there have been a lot of achievements that I’m proud of. I would say that I’ve lived my life to the full, and have no regrets that start with “I wish I had…”
The trick is to carve out those bits of time where you can achieve the goals that mean something, that are just for you, otherwise you can end up just surviving rather than really living.
And yet the most important element of my life is the people who I’ve known and loved and been loved by...
So thank you to all of you who have got me to where I am today. I couldn’t have done it without you – I wouldn’t want to have done it without you – and I am so excited about all the years we have to share together in the future.
cheers!!!

Monday, February 21, 2011

With LOVE!!!


Dear .....

   Princess of my loneliness, how you come and go, without warning. You slip through my broken window seals. You drift lazily under the doors—your own brand of chill, in no hurry to move on. When you settle in, Melancholy, you settle in. I hear there are houses and hearts that you do not haunt.
“On The Verge, Or, The Geography of Yearning”—the test I am in—was supposed to be over this week. There have been frustrating technical difficulties, and my success has been postponed. Oh, the things I could write, the things I could say, of the hours and hours of work. I have loved working with my colleagues. I have loved working as a challenger again. But there is only so much we can control. I suppose it is an exercise in the art of zen, recognizing this—recognizing that the effort may fail despite the fact that we have worked as strenuously and as passionately and as enthusiastically as we know how. We cannot do it alone.
This office is  same as my school or college used to be.We are sitting on our back steps. I am leaning on his(melancholy) lap, and his arm is around me. We look alike.

This week, had my 4th Anniversary, but now, she is not with me.People leave us and go away, without even caring for once..
    So I have a new valentine  now..and her name is melancholiness...I have the new song from the movie AUTOGRAPH in my lips..."Amake Amar moto THAKTE DAO...AAMI NIJEKE NIJER MOTO GUCHIYE NIYECHI..."
I cannot think of a more melancholy song, especially for a lonely person like me.

I tried so many times to call her, but she never responded....   
I wish she had said something. There are so many things I wish she had said, and not said....
But I am my own funny valentine, always and forever, world without end...

As one day I told my colleague Prnks while trying to understand a little bit of programming in J2EE...
“The cookies have walnuts,” . “Just…so you know....Duniya hai Gol..aur...TV...” I sounded absurd, as ever, to her. Cloying. Ridiculous. Insane.
“Thanks,” she said...

There is not much to say, beyond that.

         The tears come unexpectedly today. Another long night of rehearsal, a dress rehearsal, lies ahead. Until then, I struggle with bills, with student loan issues, with a half-hearted piece of writing at another venue, with the physical distance between me and a dear soul who is just beginning to learn to navigate my melancholy(I hope so). I struggle to understand how the past can hold so much blood, how the past can keep bleeding into my present. The future is very hard for me to see. I want to see it. But I do not feel lucky. I feel like I will be punished for any new happinesses, for any new hopes.

I do not enjoy this expansion. I would prefer my heart to take up a new motto: “Out with the old, in with the new.” “Time heals all wounds.” “No past, no future, only now....”

With LOVE,

Yours trully,

Shounak....

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

tht stupid day of d year!!!

Again tht stupid day wen u can listen to"MERI DESH KI DHARTII",REPUBLIC PUJA.Today is the day wen the tricolour gets hoisted by"USELESS JERKS" and we sing or rather are forced to sing our national anthem.lolzzz....Remember today is d day wen all d cheaters became eminent people of the society and d system became a republic run by cheats! by d way I hv my share of alcohol today.those who haven't,enjoy d DRY day!!!