Reading Hema and Kaushik for a second time was an equally enigmatic
experience, perhaps more. I didn't want it to get over, I read slowly,
delicately taking in each word, literally drowning in the anecdote. How can
someone write so so beautifully?
Usually when I read something that touches my heart, I remember you. It was
the same this time as well. All of it. How softly you used to speak, how
delicately you used to take care of me. You used to be like a warm quilt,
and you always seemed such an inseparable part of my life, of me. The pain,
the blankness gradually seeped in. The sense of loss of both Hema and
Kaushik had to be borne only by me, for you are nowhere now. For once I
felt, it's me who ought to die. Like Kaushik. To give you a stress free
life. But then I told myself, that I am imagining the stress. You must have
conveniently forgotten me. It is but my wishful thinking that if we met some
years later, we'd rediscover each other like them. We won't. That's the
truth.
The morning had dulled the pain. It was just a throbbing sensation, once in
a while. I was no more ready to think about the futility of my life, for yet
another time. Instead I remembered him. In a way I hadn't done for a long
time. More than 15 years. I remembered that reckless self confidence, that
magnetism. You cannot be a Kaushik. You cannot be heartless even outwardly.
He can be. Inside he might be like warm honey, outside he can be rough. How
rough, I know.
I can't trust people anymore. I am losing all my faith. At the same time, I feel this inexplicable surge of affection and protection for a girl in my team, who is expecting. I picture Rupai. Had I been able to save him, he'd be 4 years now. In school, writing abc. And I live on. I keep having one birthday after another. I have an existance because Rupai didn't hold on to me. He will never come back. I shall also wither away.
Monday, June 20, 2011
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Aamar Shahor...
It has been almost 10 days. Very rarely have I stayed in my city for such a long stretch. And that too in summer. In fact I am experiencing the Kolkata summer after a long long time. In one word, it's terrible. Daytime is simply scorching. The pollution has worsened the condition. Now you simply can't do without an air conditioner. However, it is still a luxury to most middle class family like ours...let alone the lower classes. We are a poor lot, tropics are hot and we have accepted it, that's all.
Unfortunately, most of my work has been during the day time so far. Like, visit to the passport office. It was catastrophe...what with the heat, the crowd, the dust and dirt (most government offices are like that...no maintenance) and finally the typical government officer mentality. "No I won't do, I won't help you out". Moreover, the passport office, being a protected area, dad was not allowed to enter there (only one person per form - though dad was shouting at the top of his voice..telling there's no such rule written anywhere...nobody bothered...luckily for us, the policeman outside didn't react much to dad's protest, just calmly said, "do not take advantage of you being a senior citizen"). So I enter the office. Absolutely clueless about what needs to be done. Lazy girl that I am, didn't do much research either, about what all documents are required, what is the fee. So I was sent back from the counter, and came down to get the passport xeroxed. Thankfully I was carrying it with me and nothing else was required, but didn't yet know that it is to be confiscated to get the PCC (I am so naive). Equipped with the xerox copy and the fees (300 Rs), I approached another counter which was relatively empty. And then came the oracle :)
There's no Czech Republic.
???!!! Sorry ???!!!
I said there's no Czech Republic in my list. PCC has to be issued for a particular country. The country you have mentioned doesn't exist.
Sir, it is there. I have just returned from there in May. My Visa is still valid.
--Recheck-- Sorry, no Czech Republic...there is no such country.
Sir, how can there not be such a country? Can you please check if you have Czechoslovakia. It was earlier called so. Is there any continent option in your menu? Please give Europe there.
Madam, please take away your form. I can't help you.
Sir, excuse me, but does the Indian Passport Office issue visas to non existent countries?
--little insulted---Hello Guha-da (some senior) - please come here, I can't locate this country, she insists it is there..
--Guha comes and after going through the list, spots a Czech--Here it is
--Very angry--Madam, you should spell the country name properly, what's Czech Republic, strike off the republic part.
Sir, our country is also called Republic of India, but often referred to only as India...
I don't know madam, strike off and write only Czech, else I can't accept the form...
I gave up. But this was not the end. When he took away the passport as well, I panicked. "When will I get it back sir? What is the procedure to be followed?" - No answer. Check in inquiry. Inquiry has a queue of almost 500 people. When I reached the window finally, after 2 hours or more, the guy there said, come back in 7 days, you have submitted the form just today, I can't answer your query now.
Next day was scheduled for visit to the police station. Dad's friend knew a certain PA to some SP, and had spoken to the IC of the local police station. He asked us to visit him. I step in a police station for the first time. Another new experience. Didn't really expect a police station to be decorated with modern art. The policemen were also pretty well dressed (leave apart the tummy part) and notably, each had a sunglass. The atmosphere was also relatively calm. There were couple of people with bandaged heads or so...one lady I noticed, probably assaulted by her husband, and some armed person was very calmly explaining to the husband, "Wife is not there to beat...wife is to be loved". :) :)
When we entered the ICs room, one person was pleading, sir they have driven me out, I have legally rented the house, I have filed a case also. The IC snapped, I can't help you, get lost. After the man left, he called a constable and said, go n get him in the house. He spoke to us pretty cordially but said, there is no way he can help me. It all depends on the passport office. We nodded politely and came back.
Kolkata has Dominos, CCD...everything these days. If only we could do something about the climate. Singapore was equally hot, perhaps more. But it was never half as much exhausting. I can understand one thing. I love my city. I don't want to go back. This is the city where I can recuperate, and perhaps get back into mainstream life. You should see me devouring everything I can see from the bus, museums, theatres, road blocks, constructions, traffic jam, junk food stalls. Everything seems to be very close to me. Everything is all set to lend me a bit of their life. I want to stay back. I don't want to go to the alien city called Bangalore. I seem to hate that place.
I did a small showdown with mom. She scolded me for some reason. I reacted with a perfect melodrama. Shouting, howling, weeping...everything. Mom, as is her nature, remained unmoved. But dad and gran started with all their might, to coax me to eat dinner. Come, see so and so hero is dancing in the television. So and so heroine is also there. Come, come, they are showing in Discovery how Bin Laden was killed.
I dread the days when I shall become absolutely lonely. There will be no one who would bother to comfort me like this. Why take away the few years that are left for this. Why send me to the undesirable place. I want to stay home. Please God, do some miracle, so that I don't have to go away. Please find me a respite.
Unfortunately, most of my work has been during the day time so far. Like, visit to the passport office. It was catastrophe...what with the heat, the crowd, the dust and dirt (most government offices are like that...no maintenance) and finally the typical government officer mentality. "No I won't do, I won't help you out". Moreover, the passport office, being a protected area, dad was not allowed to enter there (only one person per form - though dad was shouting at the top of his voice..telling there's no such rule written anywhere...nobody bothered...luckily for us, the policeman outside didn't react much to dad's protest, just calmly said, "do not take advantage of you being a senior citizen"). So I enter the office. Absolutely clueless about what needs to be done. Lazy girl that I am, didn't do much research either, about what all documents are required, what is the fee. So I was sent back from the counter, and came down to get the passport xeroxed. Thankfully I was carrying it with me and nothing else was required, but didn't yet know that it is to be confiscated to get the PCC (I am so naive). Equipped with the xerox copy and the fees (300 Rs), I approached another counter which was relatively empty. And then came the oracle :)
There's no Czech Republic.
???!!! Sorry ???!!!
I said there's no Czech Republic in my list. PCC has to be issued for a particular country. The country you have mentioned doesn't exist.
Sir, it is there. I have just returned from there in May. My Visa is still valid.
--Recheck-- Sorry, no Czech Republic...there is no such country.
Sir, how can there not be such a country? Can you please check if you have Czechoslovakia. It was earlier called so. Is there any continent option in your menu? Please give Europe there.
Madam, please take away your form. I can't help you.
Sir, excuse me, but does the Indian Passport Office issue visas to non existent countries?
--little insulted---Hello Guha-da (some senior) - please come here, I can't locate this country, she insists it is there..
--Guha comes and after going through the list, spots a Czech--Here it is
--Very angry--Madam, you should spell the country name properly, what's Czech Republic, strike off the republic part.
Sir, our country is also called Republic of India, but often referred to only as India...
I don't know madam, strike off and write only Czech, else I can't accept the form...
I gave up. But this was not the end. When he took away the passport as well, I panicked. "When will I get it back sir? What is the procedure to be followed?" - No answer. Check in inquiry. Inquiry has a queue of almost 500 people. When I reached the window finally, after 2 hours or more, the guy there said, come back in 7 days, you have submitted the form just today, I can't answer your query now.
Next day was scheduled for visit to the police station. Dad's friend knew a certain PA to some SP, and had spoken to the IC of the local police station. He asked us to visit him. I step in a police station for the first time. Another new experience. Didn't really expect a police station to be decorated with modern art. The policemen were also pretty well dressed (leave apart the tummy part) and notably, each had a sunglass. The atmosphere was also relatively calm. There were couple of people with bandaged heads or so...one lady I noticed, probably assaulted by her husband, and some armed person was very calmly explaining to the husband, "Wife is not there to beat...wife is to be loved". :) :)
When we entered the ICs room, one person was pleading, sir they have driven me out, I have legally rented the house, I have filed a case also. The IC snapped, I can't help you, get lost. After the man left, he called a constable and said, go n get him in the house. He spoke to us pretty cordially but said, there is no way he can help me. It all depends on the passport office. We nodded politely and came back.
Kolkata has Dominos, CCD...everything these days. If only we could do something about the climate. Singapore was equally hot, perhaps more. But it was never half as much exhausting. I can understand one thing. I love my city. I don't want to go back. This is the city where I can recuperate, and perhaps get back into mainstream life. You should see me devouring everything I can see from the bus, museums, theatres, road blocks, constructions, traffic jam, junk food stalls. Everything seems to be very close to me. Everything is all set to lend me a bit of their life. I want to stay back. I don't want to go to the alien city called Bangalore. I seem to hate that place.
I did a small showdown with mom. She scolded me for some reason. I reacted with a perfect melodrama. Shouting, howling, weeping...everything. Mom, as is her nature, remained unmoved. But dad and gran started with all their might, to coax me to eat dinner. Come, see so and so hero is dancing in the television. So and so heroine is also there. Come, come, they are showing in Discovery how Bin Laden was killed.
I dread the days when I shall become absolutely lonely. There will be no one who would bother to comfort me like this. Why take away the few years that are left for this. Why send me to the undesirable place. I want to stay home. Please God, do some miracle, so that I don't have to go away. Please find me a respite.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
Noukadubi
A delicious movie, to say the least. In fact, the best thing that has happened to me after my visit to Kolkata this time. It kind of advertised itself in broad daylight, as I saw the poster through the window of the airport Volvo bus. Rituparno Ghosh’s Noukadubi. A tribute to Tagore, on his 150th birthday. First thing I asked dad, was, if it is still running. Such was the compulsion I felt, to watch it. All this days, enthralled by Ganer Opare, as I was, I never even got to know of this attempt of Rituparno, so alienated I am from the general news of Bengali culture.
Luckily for me, it has released only last weekend, in fact the very day I have arrived in Kolkata. And today I got to watch the movie.
I don’t even know where that note book went, the one where I had written a couple of short stories. However, I remember the initial days of orkut-ing, way back in early 2007. At that time, you could read almost everyone’s scraps, there was no way of hiding or preferential display. At that time, I had read how he took his parents for “The Namesake”. What an irony, two people on whom I had big crushes, are discussing about this in orkut, and I am reading it. If you don’t remember, this was the novel where I had read for the first time “following my bliss”. I felt so helpless then, you know. And I feel the same way even today. Let alone the usual pleasures of life…which I don’t even crave for. Why don’t I have this simple pleasure of taking my parents to a movie, giving them some basic entertainment, a sense of living life, apart from the usual boring and monotonous routine?
However, since then, I have had couple of chances, to enjoy this simple happiness. When I took them to the beautiful “Lagey Raho Munna Bhai” and they were not only taken aback by the spontaneity and message of the movie, but also the luxury of the theatre. I had the good fortune of getting them seats in the uppermost row, in the so called gold class equivalent of Fame. Then, of course I shall remember all my life, the thrill of watching Feluda, with the full family for once.
And then, it was today. It was drizzling when we started off. It is almost a 10 minutes walk. We were quite wet when we reached, but the movie hadn’t started yet. To be frank, I never imagined it would be such a leisurely watch. It was almost like watching a normal soap opera. Taking Tagore to the grassroot level, must have been the purpose. I got my answer, as I watched the movie, to the question that had come in my mind, seeing the poster for the first time. Why Noukadubi? Of all the novels Tagore has ever written, surely this is not the one. It has neither philosophy, nor drama. It is indeed, completely make believe. Then why this weird selection? Surely there were better novels of Tagore, waiting to be explored by the deft mind of Rituparno?
Another reason why I hadn’t expected this to be so successful in easing away my evening, was the intense pain I experienced this afternoon. I happened to read Hema and Kaushik once again. It brought back both the love and the pain that I am trying to get used to. It brought back the meaninglessness of my life, once again. Told me loud and clear, that no matter whatever I do, it is not going to work out. It should have taken hardly six months to cure, had it been curable. Now it is more than 3 years. And the wound has only deepened. I was once again drained out, I had no mind for entertainment. And yet, now I feel so fresh. So proud, so elated. So full of you still, revelling in the realization that Kotak Mahindra bank has financed this movie. What an expert I am to find the remotest possible connection between you and me. A movie in my language, that I watched, and a bank for which you are the implementation manager. What an intimate bond, na?
And it automatically comes again to my mind, that same question. Sudhu tumi ki go emni bhabe…rangiye more paliye jabe….tumi sadh kore nath dhora diye…aamar e rang bokkhe niyo…
I love Rituparno’s Rabindra chetona. I tell myself, this is something very rare. Very extinct. Perhaps, there will be no one in the next generation to replace him. I wish I could spend more time in Kolkata. Absorb what I have been missing till date. Perhaps that is now the only way left for me to rediscover life.
It was a very simple story telling session. Almost a soap opera. At times a proper intolerable hindi movie plot. Was it an attempt to take Tagore to the masses? Who knows? But you'll be happy at the end of the show. This much I can guarantee. Music is the life blood, as usual. Acting was ok. Nothing was very difficult in the movie, so accordingly I cannot praise anyone to that extent. Except perhaps, the costume designer. It was a British driven India, but still, oh what grandeur. In some ways Rituparno is becoming quite like Karan Johar. Like KJo would keep at least one scene of Shah Rukh running, in his movies, Rituparno would keep one chorus song with elaborate orchestration. Is he experimenting also about the bramhosangeet influence on rabindra sangeet? Seems so. I want more fresh faces on the Bengali screen. Riya and Raima are beautiful, have been true to their roles, but I believe a proper rabindra nayika should have more potential. Why not take an unconventional, new face? He is sure an able enough director, to bring out acting out of anybody? Why the same old faces then? Faces who are so far apart from the roles they are playing? Who cannot even speak proper Bengali in most cases?
At the end, I am contented. This area has improved hugely. There was nothing when we came. 13 years back. Now, there is a proper shopping mall, with a multiplex. Where I can reach by walk. With my parents. All three of us smiling :)
Luckily for me, it has released only last weekend, in fact the very day I have arrived in Kolkata. And today I got to watch the movie.
I don’t even know where that note book went, the one where I had written a couple of short stories. However, I remember the initial days of orkut-ing, way back in early 2007. At that time, you could read almost everyone’s scraps, there was no way of hiding or preferential display. At that time, I had read how he took his parents for “The Namesake”. What an irony, two people on whom I had big crushes, are discussing about this in orkut, and I am reading it. If you don’t remember, this was the novel where I had read for the first time “following my bliss”. I felt so helpless then, you know. And I feel the same way even today. Let alone the usual pleasures of life…which I don’t even crave for. Why don’t I have this simple pleasure of taking my parents to a movie, giving them some basic entertainment, a sense of living life, apart from the usual boring and monotonous routine?
However, since then, I have had couple of chances, to enjoy this simple happiness. When I took them to the beautiful “Lagey Raho Munna Bhai” and they were not only taken aback by the spontaneity and message of the movie, but also the luxury of the theatre. I had the good fortune of getting them seats in the uppermost row, in the so called gold class equivalent of Fame. Then, of course I shall remember all my life, the thrill of watching Feluda, with the full family for once.
And then, it was today. It was drizzling when we started off. It is almost a 10 minutes walk. We were quite wet when we reached, but the movie hadn’t started yet. To be frank, I never imagined it would be such a leisurely watch. It was almost like watching a normal soap opera. Taking Tagore to the grassroot level, must have been the purpose. I got my answer, as I watched the movie, to the question that had come in my mind, seeing the poster for the first time. Why Noukadubi? Of all the novels Tagore has ever written, surely this is not the one. It has neither philosophy, nor drama. It is indeed, completely make believe. Then why this weird selection? Surely there were better novels of Tagore, waiting to be explored by the deft mind of Rituparno?
Another reason why I hadn’t expected this to be so successful in easing away my evening, was the intense pain I experienced this afternoon. I happened to read Hema and Kaushik once again. It brought back both the love and the pain that I am trying to get used to. It brought back the meaninglessness of my life, once again. Told me loud and clear, that no matter whatever I do, it is not going to work out. It should have taken hardly six months to cure, had it been curable. Now it is more than 3 years. And the wound has only deepened. I was once again drained out, I had no mind for entertainment. And yet, now I feel so fresh. So proud, so elated. So full of you still, revelling in the realization that Kotak Mahindra bank has financed this movie. What an expert I am to find the remotest possible connection between you and me. A movie in my language, that I watched, and a bank for which you are the implementation manager. What an intimate bond, na?
And it automatically comes again to my mind, that same question. Sudhu tumi ki go emni bhabe…rangiye more paliye jabe….tumi sadh kore nath dhora diye…aamar e rang bokkhe niyo…
I love Rituparno’s Rabindra chetona. I tell myself, this is something very rare. Very extinct. Perhaps, there will be no one in the next generation to replace him. I wish I could spend more time in Kolkata. Absorb what I have been missing till date. Perhaps that is now the only way left for me to rediscover life.
It was a very simple story telling session. Almost a soap opera. At times a proper intolerable hindi movie plot. Was it an attempt to take Tagore to the masses? Who knows? But you'll be happy at the end of the show. This much I can guarantee. Music is the life blood, as usual. Acting was ok. Nothing was very difficult in the movie, so accordingly I cannot praise anyone to that extent. Except perhaps, the costume designer. It was a British driven India, but still, oh what grandeur. In some ways Rituparno is becoming quite like Karan Johar. Like KJo would keep at least one scene of Shah Rukh running, in his movies, Rituparno would keep one chorus song with elaborate orchestration. Is he experimenting also about the bramhosangeet influence on rabindra sangeet? Seems so. I want more fresh faces on the Bengali screen. Riya and Raima are beautiful, have been true to their roles, but I believe a proper rabindra nayika should have more potential. Why not take an unconventional, new face? He is sure an able enough director, to bring out acting out of anybody? Why the same old faces then? Faces who are so far apart from the roles they are playing? Who cannot even speak proper Bengali in most cases?
At the end, I am contented. This area has improved hugely. There was nothing when we came. 13 years back. Now, there is a proper shopping mall, with a multiplex. Where I can reach by walk. With my parents. All three of us smiling :)
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