bihur suvessare...

podulit kun?
hokhi bordoisila...
aanhotor kumol patot,
kulir matot,
togoror hubhaxot,
dhulor sewot,
gorokhiar banhir hurot,
athoba axomiyar bukut,
hokolute etia etai khabar...
enekoiye aahe niki bohag?
lajor avoron phali, unmal hridoy tulpar kori...?

(anonymous)


how do i tell u ma, how much i miss home...especially when bihu is here? i so much yearn to turn back time..to go through everything once again. waking up early will never be a problem again...nor chewing a "neem and two masoor dals". of course i'll gladly eat the 'hundred and one" kind of haak without any fuss... no more of my tantrums while you shop, no more of your compromises... just let me spin around time ma...to experience bihu as a kid again.

As this is the eighth time i am away from home on bihu, mark my absence once again. do use my share of maah- halodhi for the morning bath and accept my obeisance which we always pay to u and papa. (p.s. do not forget my ten bucks in return!:) ) And next month wen i come home, i'll do with whatever little pitha and laru you could manage to save for me...for now i know how it feels to miss the euphoria in a distant city...

rongali bihur suvessyare... to ma, papa, myna, baba, al my friends and to someone special...

There is something in the spring air that makes me go all dreamy… I always loved it you know, like most of you- all those garden flowers and those wild roses and the bougainvilleas… The pinks and reds and violets and the greens would keep me so happy and gay. And perhaps I loved it evermore because it reminded me of dad in his garden, tending his blue and pink carnations…and me waiting for my birthday… I thought, there was some magic woven around each flower, each colour, and each bird-call which left me dreamy-eyed…

But now I realize,

Behind every little wonder
And every silvery magic
There was a reason for me to dream…
Through every winding path
And every misty cloud
There was a reason for you to come…

Now I know,

Why I am eternally wedded to you, spring…


[for the sun who made d spring so special.]

NOVEMBER RETOLD

November Retold


When I wrote my “November” did I ever know that things will change thenceforth? I thought I’m one of those people who hate changes, but see how things never stay the same! You’d be glad to know that the rain did fulfill its promise after all…but then why don’t I feel intoxicated by it anymore?? Have I already coaxed myself out of it? Why does it seem like a distant yesterday? Did I just wake up from a twelve year old reverie??

Meanwhile… spring is here.

The ridge beyond our flat seemed unaffected by the wintry chill and had maintained its greens throughout. I’m glad the bougainvilleas are in full bloom again- glaring stridently under the sun: in its majestic magenta. There’s something in the spring air that makes me bloom too. Perhaps it reminds me of dad- with his spade and axe, tending his blue and pink carnations, and me waiting for my birthday…

Nas, Tapu and I were having out famous tea-session, when his letter arrived. I don’t remember how I reacted at first, but my friends later remarked that I froze and then I trembled-as if someone has just proposed!! Preferring to read it later on in solitude, I somehow gulped down the tea that was already turning cold. I hate cold tea…iced tea is a different thing though.

As I tore open the blue envelope, his tiny careful handwriting spilled forth. Though things between us have changed, his commitment to the scented Fort Fx 0.6 hasn’t. I know, how he must have wriggled on his inherited pre-historic teak-wood chair, fighting with words…and how his scented Fort Fx 0.6 must have fidgeted between his left thumb and index. He’s a lefty. But there wasn’t much to share… Seems, we’ll need time to make up for the lost time. .. But then sometimes gaps turn fences. Don’t they??
This evening, when I was clearing up some mess in my old trunk, I came across one of my college notebooks and I casually flipped through its pages. Some three years back, bored to death by K.B’s take on “death of a salesman” I had written at the inner back cover of my notebook:

Forget the bygone, I will not.
But think of it again, will I ever??

As I stared back at my own lines, I struggled with my see-saw: memory and forgetting…memory and forgetting… When did I write it? And why? In what context? I had forgotten all about it. But, seriously, the gap is too wide, and the gravel less…the walk’s long, but d moon has betrayed…let them know, it was beautiful...but now: very late.
Let me assure: forget the bygone, I will not.
But think of that again…I’ll neither.

Let the old game begin: the struggle of man against power and the struggle of memory against forgetting…

p.s. …And I pulled out my cane chair to my beloved balcony and continued reading Milan Kundera.

It was one of my usual day out. Auto, metro, ricky,et al...It was great to see my good ole campus again. As I got yet another 'fuccha hai' look from the 'recently promoted seniors', I brushed aside my urge to give them a thumbs down for mistaking this alumnus as a fuccha. Uh oh forget it Gitu- i thought. Kids na, let them enjoy their newly accquired status. Seniors indeed! :) 'Surprisingly' my job was done without any hassels with the office-wallas and without queueing up... Actually strange for me, who have to make ten rounds for one goddamn thing.

I hired an auto from C-Sec to Lajpat after a brief spat with the auto wala bhaiyya who was overcharging the fare. Though I usually don't feel like bargaining much (like my dad), I was in the mood to today, maybe coz I still had a lot of nerve to spare. Uff...! This traffic na!! As we waited for the red light to turn green, a child hawker came to me in a bid to sell some pens. I usually avoid eye contact with them so as to escape further pestering. But I don't know why, I looked at her- I had to. Ten rupees for a torch wala pen.. She continued with her art of salesmanship...all those "do din se kahana nahi khaya hai didi...aap ka bahut bhala hoga didi...ek pen le lo didi..." etc. i asked her,

"school jaati ho?"despite knowing she doesn't, for sure. And that liar! She said -

"haan jati hu." So i cross-questioned-

"kaunsi class mein ho?"

- no reply-

"school ka naam kya hai?"

"..pata nahi...yaad nahi...uss taraf hai..."(pointing towards some airforce headquarters!!!).

"kya kya sikha hai?"

"yaad nahi hai abhi..."(that big time liar!)

"jhooth bolti hai?"

"nahi didi sacchi...!! school jati hu..please pen le lijiye...aapka bahut kaam aayega..."

I decided to buy one. At least she isin't begging. She's selling. Imaandari ki kamayi afterall. Moreover i needed the small little torch in it for emergency. I just managed to hand out her deserved ten bucks before the signal changed. But she left me wondering... Will she spend her entire lifetime selling pens in traffic signals? Does she even know how to hold the thing she's selling? Should I have bought the pen afterall? Am I encouraging her way of life? In child labour? This is child labour, is it not? how long?? Will she never learn to even spell out her name? Hold the pen in the right way? "...didi aapka bahut kaam aayega..". Arrey,toh phir uska kaam kab aayega life mein?

SHE LEFT ME FAZED...

That's when i decided.

I am enrolling for Teach India Campaign rightaway . They need us.

NOVEMBER...(fiction/non-fiction)

This is perhaps the eighteenth time in i-don't-know-how-many-months, that i've checked my mail-box. Hey wow! have a belated birthday card from my best friend Diksha. How sweet ! Some things in life never change; and received my Sahitya Academy bi- monthly too. That has surely made my day. But no trace of the letter i have been waiting for all these months...I was kinda dissappointed...for the eighteenth time. No, 'dissappointed' wouldn't be the perfect word. This time I was angry. Really very pissed off. What kind of an emotional hide-and-seek is he trying to play??

I came back to my room. My flatmates haven't returned from their office yet. We have different shifts and hardly get to meet now-a-days. I tidied up the kitchen, had a quick shower and prepared dinner for us - it was my turn tonight. I was godamn hungry, but decided to wait for them. Afterall, it's not everyday that the three of us get to dine together. uh oh ! POWERCUT. How irritating!! I didn't bother to light the candles, instead took out an easychair to the balcony and sat there counting stars. Beyond the boundary wall is the lush green rigde area. There are lots of peacocks and wild birds out there. I'd love to explore it, but my friends wouldn't agree. I think our balcony is the best place to be in this mad city. I love to sit there alone and spend timeless hours staring at the moon. What do they call it- moonstruck?

I don't long for any other company then. But somehow, he's always at the back of my mind. It all started way back in school when having pen-pals were a craze amongst us. Teens Today and Student's Today were my favourite mags. Apparantly they connected us. Our letters survived the tide of emails, IMs, phone calls and sms. I never met him, never called him, yet i don't know why, I tend to miss him. He has become a habit which is hard to give up. It's a non-existent relationship, but I find refuge in it. 12 years!!! You call it a joke??

I hope my friends return fast.

I wonder what's keeping him so long to reply to my last letter... Busy with his new found job? Or is it because I moved to a different city? No...that shouldn't be a reason 'coz, it was distance that brought us close. Probably he's sulking 'coz I refused to give him something he had asked for...Or is he experimenting with his newest dating strategies on me again?? Who says women are difficult to understand? It's men who are difficult to understand. They confuse us like hell. It's taking long, and somehow this wait is killing me.

Thankkkkgod the power is back.

I got a msz. No, not him. He hasn't my number. It's them, my chums - "hey, wil b hme in 5 mins.dinr redy? huntin 4 sum gud movies. c ya." Oh great! what a welcome break! We're gonna watch movies tonight ! We had our supper and soon got into our favourite corners. Hmm... "A Cinderella Story" featuring Hillary Duff. Wow! It turned out to be such a nice-sweet-cute-romantic flick! It immidiately entered my fav movie list. Somehow, "A Cinderella Story" seemed like my lost story- unseen friends,budding love-story, misunderstandings, inflated egos, the big off-period and a long wait for reconciliation... It's here that I came across these lines by Hillary- "waiting for you is like waiting for the rain in drought. Useless and Dissappointing."

Heck!! Wait a sec. Was I looking for these lines in my mental diary?? But the movie ended in a happy note ! Why should I pay attention to this particular line? But it did tally. Waiting for him indeed was useless and dissappointing. I rushed to my room, took out my diary and scribbled with a red sketch pen: the same dialogue. A big drop of tear from i-don't-know-where fell on my page, but I don't care anymore! I wiped it away. And I wiped him away forever.

Ideally this should have been the end of this story right? Rising from the ashes like the phoenix and ending in liberation...But sometimes you just come across things that make you take back your frequent claims...The VERY next day the most IMPOSSIBLE thing happened. Read this:

Dated NOV 22 '07, afternoon: It rained!! good heavens it rained!! It just came from nowhere- a cloudless, untimely shower- in this part of the world !! How impossible!! But it did rain. It should have rained harder, in greater gulps. The more stormy it is the more i'm in love with it. But you know how it rains in this fortified city...just in a few drops- as if to keep its promise made to the parched land. But it quenched our thirst none-the-less. As I stepped out into my balcony and let myself feel the rain, i decided to take back my words...This rain was important to me- you know it why. It was the sweetest november. Ever.

Crossroads and Cobwebs

Here I come again. Travelled a full 360 degree circle and once again found myself at the same point...at the same crossroad where I was a year or two ago...or was it 5 years ago?? 7 ?? Thrash !!! Thrash all crossroads !! It's a cobweb this time. The more I struggle to free myself , the more they try to strangulate me.

I escape.

Somewhere down the lane I seem to have gone the Hansel and Gretel way- lost track while following bread- crumb trails. But was it meant to be this way?? I travelled through the longest and supposedly the safest way by the woods. Kept close to the creeks... and finally arrived here. Smile not! I'm no Little Red Riding Hood, and I met no prying wolf.
But then, is this the same kingdom that beckoned me throughout my childhood? If so, where is my castle then? Where are the folks? The kinsmen? The king? The queen? The horses? The carriages? where is my prince??

As I near my 4th crossroad, I tell you this part of Alice in Wonderland's story-

'Cheshire puss', she began, rather timidly, as she did not at all know whether it would like the name. However it only grinned a little wider. 'Come, it's pleased so far', thought Alice and she went on.
' Would you tell me please, which way I ought to go from here?'
'That depends a good deal on where you want to get to', said the cat.
' I don't much care where', said Alice.
'Then it doesn't matter which way you go', said the cat.
' So long as I get somewhere.' Alice added as an explanation.
'Oh you're sure to do that', said the cheshire cat, ' if you only walk long enough'.

Well, I walked long enough. It took me full 20 years ... But i've realized- we are all Alices, we are all Hansels and Gretels. It's easy to pretend and declare that everything is going on perfectly fine, but it's quite a task you know, to step out of your fairy tale boots, dust the childish fantasies off your coat, and prepare yourself for the trek. I didn't make much sense to you, did i? Or may I please put it in a more ressuring way?- I made some sense, did I not?

Told you ! It's a cobweb. A complex web. I too have woven one for myself. And so have you. Infact each one of us has.

Over endless cuppa tea....

'Over endless cuppa tea'...whoa!! I'm simply in love with this line.Well...i mean i m blindly in love with tea too-- black tea sans sugar. I'm a bit fussy when it comes to a perfect cuppa tea. My favourite is the Sri Lankan Dilmah (peach flavoured) and of course Tetley tea (lemon). But u'll never find good tea in Delhi- it's either too sweet or too pani pani. And tea in Law faculty canteen- I tell you!! It's out of question!!! There is a tea vendor in the Arts fac who often loiters around in front of our English deptt and who had befriended Nasreen. A child labourer i guess.
-"Bhaiya issme shakkar jyada toh nahi hai na?"
"Kya ji madam??"
"Bhaiya shakkar...shakkar jyada toh nahi hai na?"
"Aap log yeh shakkar shakkar kya kehte rehte hai?"
"Arey bhaiya,chini...chini jyada toh nahi hai na?"
"Hmm, yu boliye na.Nahi madam,chini kum hai."
And then he'd start up a convo with us, talk about his family..and how he hardly gets to visit his home in Bihar...and finally when our heart starts melting we'd end up buying a cup of "too sweet" a tea each. Smart lad- this Akbar.

Nasreen,Tapu and I are one of those ppl who can't do without tea. Esp at dead night.While Nas would'nt mind getting out of the bed,scrubbing the pan and doing the mugs,and going all the way to ground floor to reheat the milk and prepare the purrrfect steaming hot tea,  Tapu and I would have the easier and healthier alternative- we use the hot-and-cold water dispenser of our hostel mess and our famous imported dip-dip!! It tastes classic. Do try...It's easily available in all Big Apple stores.

It's great u know, to chat over endless cuppa tea- all those girl talks, about relationships,about career, about everything under the sun and the moon.The other day we were talking about our diaries and whether we would like to share it with the ultimate person in our life; and d answer was a ready NO. We can share anything and everything but spare our diaries man.! Then came the big question(which I often secretly wonder)-- what if we died all of a sudden?What about our diaries? Seriously, i'd hate to see my diaries accompanying me to the pyre and i would HATE to see someone else going through the mad ramblings, desperate scribbling... Then Tapu came up with such a silly answer- "I'll lock it and swallow the key." And dear ole Nasreen nodded in agreement. And I was like- trying to make sense... and then all of a sudden we all broke into a laughter!!! How silly!!! How very silly!!! 'Lock it and swallow the key' indeed!!! I still feel funny when i think of tapu's silly suggestion.

Oh well, what was I actually planning to write in this new post? Um..er...well...nothing in particular I guess. I just wanted to say that I love using this phrase over and over again besides words like 'sandcastle', 'canvas', 'nostalgia', 'melange',et al. On my repeated use of the word 'sandcastle' Nas commented -"Maybe u like things that are not permanent ..Things that break ur heart." I just laughed it away. But maybe she's right.I automatically fall for things that do not pass the test of time- flowers, glass bangles and silly-silly dreams, etc...these litt guys have this annoying habit of reading in-between-the-lines and deconstructing everything that comes our way, you see.Whatever be, u can discuss anything over endless cuppa tea- laugh, talk gossip, curse ur syllab, form opinions, hold poetic sessions, learn about the way of the world from Tapu...and do hell lotta things.

Hey, it's almost 2:30 am now. Bound to complete an assignment tonight. This takes me to the same ole situation- endless cuppa tea...and let me tell u, Miss Habib is making tea for us.C ya!! Nites.!!

AJI BOHUT DIN HOL....

Aji bohut din hol
Hopunor balighor hojar
Tumije koisila -
Birina pator angothir kotha...
Aru je muloi buli
Hewali phulor mala guthisila...
Ajiu ase jana?

Moi diya hei debodarur sobi khon
Etiyau ase ne??
Aru marbolor petitu??

Heruwala nissoi....

Tumar logot dekha hunaru bulia hopun bur
Etiyau monot pore
Khaunor borokhunot kagojor nau mela
Puwotir rodalit niyoror mukuta bisora
Tumar hopunot nijor hopun bisari puwa
Aru tumar prosnor kunu uttor dibo nuwara..

Aji boghut din hol
Tumar khujot khuj diyar...
Tumije koisila -
Haat meli salei tora dhuki paba..
Moi hahitei urai disilu...
Kintu kota?
Aji je iman sesta koriudhuki pua nai...

Amar akaakh beleg.
Hei karone, nohoy?

Asinaki batot ami sinaki hoisilu
Aji sinaki batotei ami asinaki
Kintu tumar proti kunu akheyep nai,
Karon hopunor bade
Tumar pora eku bisorai nasilu

Bisarisilu mathu tumar sa'a
Aru loralit hoja amar balighor.


POSTSCRIPT: After many failed attempts this happens to be my first brush with assamese poetry(actually 2nd,but lets not talk abt my very 1st one coz it was kiddish.I wrote it for my baby bro when i was in class V) geee!!! :). Well what happened was, nasreen and i were listening to a collection of Zubeen's new songs- Mukha. such beautiful lyrics...so simple yet so sublime.. it greatly inspired us. Thence was roused our 'regionalist' sentiments...enough of wasting our talents on Shakespeare,Wordsworth,Keats and Milton.We got nothing in return but big big zeros. "Forget English! Assamese language is the most evocative and expressive of all..."-we concluded. And soon we were busy trying to recollect and connect words with aesthetics. And when you are with miss Habib you can't help but bring out all ur wordsworthian mushiness....(see i did use 'Wordsworth' again.U can't escape these guys.!!!). Well... finally my draft was completed at around 6:30-7 in the morning. So was Habib's-- exactly at the same time which is no big surprize for us.We are twins in taste and coincidents you see!!. And here you are!!!

Critical appreciation of the text is welcome.Tapu's attempt at "deconstructing gitanjali" has been taken into account and considered; but others- plz do not try to fish out any autobiographical elements coz, all characters and incidents of this poem are purely fictional.They hold no resemblance to any situation or person either living or dead :) lol.

some favourite fragments/haikus, etc

podulit kun?
hokhi bordoisila...
ahotor kumol patot,
kulir matot,
togoror hubakhot,
dhulor sewot,
gorokhiya bahir hurot
athoba tumar bukut...
hokolute etiya etai khabar...
enekoyei ahe niki bohag?
lajor avoron phali,unmol hridoy tulpar kori?
rongali bihur suvessare..






# tumak bhal pau buli nu keneke lukuwai thow?
kaku nokoba buli koute koute gutei prithive khanake koi pelalu... -japanese haiku

# tumi tu janaye ei kobir aru je eku nai...
etai mathu kameez, taru sigu sigu silai..
prem nischoy enekuwai,aworon khuli hridoy jurai. - hiru da

# kuwolir aasolot puhoror buta bosa raati,
iman hopun ahey dithok hoboloi
mur ei bukur batedi... - hiru da

# kunu dine nuhuna gaanor koli etai di jai
muk tumar thikona,tumi henu amoron abhakhon... - hiru da

# amar ja nei tumi tar deve...
amar gondhohara phul tumar kache shurobhi neve..
erey naam prem (bengali) - unknown

# agotei jodi janilu heten
enekoyei udong kori thoy jaba
ahinor akakhor pora nirole hasi tholu heten -
edhani heujiya,ekujali ronga... - unknown


courtesy: friends- joy,niha

me, my friends and my life...this is my story.

You know what life means to me?Not queen-sized castles,but sand castles built on beaches.Not big seas or ports,but puddles and peebles.there are some things in life that may not be worth keeping on a mantlepiece but which mean a lot to us....like your folks,your best friends,your school building,your first bicycle, a wild childhood,your grad years,and of course your long journey....here's a very personal entry-

life means....
fitting into your papa's sweater
cooking a surprize meal for your mom
sharing secrets with your sister
watching your kid-bro grow up

life means....
my school,my buddies,my bicycle,
climbing trees,stealing berries,
getting whole-class punishments
returning home...

life means...
minaxi ba,moonmi ba,smita ba,yeli ba,
nahi ba,sriporna ba,deepali ba,
bini myna,kaku myna and me.
in one little word, life means SKL R.no.8

life means...
hating GU syllab,
cursing aristotle,plato,shakespeare,and conrad
life means, not having understood a fig of phonetics
well...life means bike no. AS 01 1937!!!!

life means...
niha,sauj,adi,payel,elu,dravid,molli,joy..
life means eng.deptt marching off to college.
life means sudmerson hall,BKB,MCB,BKB,coffee house,library,
013,014,four seasons,sheikh bros,iantoosh,dighalipukhuri,
and decision tuition centre..

life means three glorious chapters of my life,three glorious pages of my book,three glorious years in my alma mater "Cotton"

life means...
landing up in this big city,
life means praa,papun and me,
life means the joy of clearing DU entrance exam,
life means getting into 'neshw',
meeting new frns and be-friending debbie

life means....
bumping into this cute friend APPUN
her one liners and perfect timers,
her brad pitt,
her orlando bloom,
her arjun rampal,
her hrithik,
her john,
her atif,
her ali zafar,
her junaid
and her amanat...
and the list goes on..

life means ....
NASREEN
our endless chats,our 'xeroxed' tastes,our poetic sessions,
our overnight studies over endless cups of tea..
our punjabi tadkaas,lays,britannia pure magic,
cream cracker,brown bread and
ultralite...uh..oh sorry,nutralite butter!!

life means...
TAPU(GINGER)
her teddy bearish looks,her "1000 sor dims"
her resemblance to ginger-the hostel cat,
her top ramen,her maggi noodles,her money plants,
borrowing her stuffs for dates,
our common love-art,craft and roses
and our 'only' favourite paper-course 12/b,
life means pinching her hard.real hard to see her turn red!!!!

life means....
KAS(turi)
annoying the hell out of each other,
pinching and pushing her till she yells,
fighting over who is papun's dearest frn..
her beautiful voice,her numerous rings,anklets,
and her PCO...
plus,her bread and butter topped with sugar(ha ha what-a-combo!!!)

life means....
JYOTS
her mimicry,her fascination with ghost stories and
horror movies,and long hair and nail paints,
her nautankis,her thumkas and her "aaa bachaoo!!"
and "eke thapore morobi" and
moribole dhora tu"
life means her mehsana ka badaam...!!

life means...
SANCHI.
her loud rowdy laughs,her unsopho jokes,her zeal,
her enthu,her curly curly hair,
her 'shabby sharma da' get-up and her yo india!!!
in one line,life means yo!!chak de sanchi!!

life means...
TOIBS
her uncensored jokes,
her 11 o'clock calls,
her journo-type kurtas,her vision in life,
and her "mariye pela aru..."

life means...
ANKY MYNA( ANKITA)
her witty answers,and her quick retort,
her gift of gab,her excellent dialogue-bazi,
her busy schedule,the feminist in her
and of course her "ek koshish kuch kehne kii" t-shirt.


finally...

life means...room no.109.life means tea at 3:25am with nas and tapu..life means shouting for each other across the hostel,life means getting scolded by seniors for singing 'happy b'day to u' at 12 am...
life means my paintings,my posters,and my "i lost my heart in vrindavan"...
life means waiting for that imperfect man...life means trying to sketch my friends in a few words...life means you trying to understand me...

life means me and my story.life means my autobiography in this graffiti.