waterworld...!

Within minutes of Dhoni lifting the coveted T20 Cup, the lights went out, almost in celebration! It had already been raining with a vengeance for the better part of the evening, but almost every living creature in our neighbourhood remained glued to the match. Meanwhile, the water-level had also 'risen' to the occasion; it had cleverly made it's way into ground-floor apartments, garages (in some cases, dangerously close to CESC meter boxes) and a number of water-reservoirs - the damage was done! Eventually, by the time Team India was comfortably in their dressing rooms, Lake Town was underwater. Though engulfed in darkness, it was evident (in spite of the poor visibility) that we were surrounded...

The next morning, Lake Town woke up to 'waterworld'!

[Above/Right: The view from our balcony on Tuesday (25th September). This is how it would remain for the next 3 days!]


For those of us who were (un)fortunate enough to have been here in 1999 - we had encountered this once before... or had we? This was unarguably the worst 'flood' that Lake Town had ever seen. Till date, the majority of the lanes that comprise this township are still water-logged. I consider myself extremely fortunate that we seem to be out of this mess for the present.

But it isn't like we're home and dry just yet - the theme for the week that follows will be 'health and safety'. And that translates into gallons of disinfectants, bleaching powder and and army of street sweepers equipped with their brooms and shovels, clearing away the muck.

Here are just a few glimpses from the week that was...

Left: En route to work! The rickshaw was a lifesaver during these trying times...












Right: The normally 'hyperactive' VIP Road is deserted due to protests and road-blocks courtesy the residents of Bangur (Photo --> from atop the Lake Town-Salt Lake foot-bridge)








Left: Tread carefully! The lake (adjacent to VIP Road) had spilt over and was one with the street...






Right: Lake Town-VIP Road crossing - Rickshaws ferry their passengers sans belongings to (relative/temporary) safety...






Left: "Pump fiction"? News channels and men in white, spotless clothing kept monotonously announcing that 'steps were being taken', but alas! There was nothing in sight... until Thursday evening. Till then, the pump was just a myth. Finally, on Thursday night, the water was slowly transported into the Keshtopur canal. This would be a daily activity for the next few days...







Right: Thursday night - VIP Road is cordoned off as the water is pumped into the Keshtopur canal from Lake Town.



Soon, all the water will subside and then the only thoughts in our minds will be those of the festive months ahead. The newspapers that carried the woes of a thousand-odd citizens will be 'recycled' by then; the media will have 'other' news. This 'issue' will soon be shoved under a carpet and 'forgotten'... till the rains return!

Complete the series: 1999, 2007, ....?

...cryptic signals

Conversations take place at times through the alphabets of human thought,
And the words fall short of revealing what is true;
When the mind recites a sonnet, but the sentences run dry
Are the 'messages' for onlookers to construe?

Give-away, tell-tale signs surface, every now and then,
For there is little that one's expressions can conceal.
The tough, rebellious 'warriors' try hard to swallow these emotions;
It would be ‘disgraceful’ if their feelings were revealed!

‘Should I, should I not’, the petals are plucked absent-mindedly
With vague, defocused eyes staring into the distance.
Easy becomes Difficult; A few simple words could clear the fog,
Yet, determinedly, one fuels this resistance.

Once in a while, there are gestures bordering on controversial,
And there is a risk that the ‘skeletons’ will be in view!
But then, hurriedly, one falls back onto the alphabets of human thought,
And the face then attempts to hide what is true.

july...

A cup of coffee; drops of monsoon rain
Come crashing down heavily on the window panes.
Strange emotions follow that we cannot explain;
'Tis just another day in July.

The horizon sports all shades of grey,
And though there's sunshine somewhere along the way,
The brightness - will it be here to stay?
Meanwhile - we are as melancholy as the sky.

Thanks to the rain, 'tis muffled, unclear
But still suddenly the radio catches your ear -
A nostalgic melody that you overhear;
There's a giddy feeling inside you can't deny.

Thoughts of different genres stringed together
With imaginary threads that withstand the weather,
All unique yet similar, like birds of a feather,
Come into view; you breathe a heavy sigh...

An awkwardness follows, which you tacitly condone;
You are neither joyous, nor sad - in a twilight zone.
Are you searching for someone or would you rather be alone?
Mysterious contradictions - you are left wondering why...

And yet, relentless, defiant - the rain will march on!
Perhaps till the scorching summer memories are gone.
But will our vibrant Sun resurface at dawn?
'Tis just another day in July.

...concrete jungle!

You are not merely who you are,
But a product of my perception -
My opinion of the "you" I see...
Through your countless veils of deception;
The concept of what is 'really' "real"
Is skewed and obscure.
And the plastic smiles that go around
Celebrate how much we endure.
Clouds of diplomacy hover between us,
As we engage in conversation.
Our thoughts and feelings trapped behind
'Masks' of our own creation!

Beneath the wafer-thin 'warm' exterior,
Are strong currents of ambition...
That drive us to where we will be from
With near-zero inhibition.
A Conscience is part of a dying species;
This is clearly the final stand.
With Ethics sentenced to the gallows,
There's now more cash-in-hand!
Almost with ease and a cheery disposition,
You stab your closest rival...
And plot the next few moves you'll make
On this chess-board called 'Survival'.

...ringing in the new year - 1414!

Shubho Naboborsho!
Happy Bengali New Year, 1414!

I've just finished clearing all the cobwebs that were clinging on to this web-page. I guess it still needs a bit of 'starch' and 'ironing', but that's something that I'm going to have to follow up and work on in the months that follow.

We rolled onto this 'brand new year' just about a week ago, but it took me six more days to take the initiative to actually type this out. The word 'procrastination' is very aptly defined through the phrase - ' the spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak!'. Hey! That's me! ;-)

[Left/Below: Lakshmi and Ganesh idols]

While we're on the subject of spirits (not the ones that come in attractive, alluring bottles!) - there's, of course, that divine something else that we're not normally supposed to be able to see or hear or smell or touch (unless we're just that extra bit special, or we feel just that extra bit special... hint: spirits in bottles!), but profusely believe in, fear and love nonetheless - God. [No, please don't throw down a bolt of thunder & knock my lights out for good. Not just yet. Still lots left to do...] ... Anyway, I digress... coming back to the point - the arrival of this new "bangabdo" (new year) is a total 'feel bengali' event. I mean - seriously speaking - in this day and age of total confusion and multiple-identity crises, its a nice opportunity to get in touch with who you are (without actually having to go and watch 'The Namesake').

[Right/Below]: Puja in progress]

God (which is what I originally intended the previous paragraph to be about) -- we had a lovely Lakshmi-Ganesh puja on 'poila baisakh' (the first day of the first month of the calendar - Baisakh) for the 'shanti' (peace) and well-being of our family and the world that surrounds us all. Full marks (and a pat on our own backs ;-)...) for the ambience, as well as the 'cha' and 'singaras' that followed. Finally, a bit of singing (read: Tagore) to seal the deal. Thanks for everything, Atanu-da (every 'para' should have an Atanu-da!). No, he's not on Wikipedia just yet :-)

This was preceded by a 'shopping' series - I am clubbing together 'all' the activities when I say this. Determined shoppers (mostly women - primarily our adorable moms and aunties) fighting it out for the best deals and discounts in the bazaar (buy1, get 2!). Wearing "new" clothes is supposed to be mandatory. From a shopping perspective - this is the pre-Durga-Puja fever all over again, scaled down a few factors. Meanwhile, the other family members (read: the male contingent, by default) run from pillar to post, bringing home bags full of everything from pots and pans to incense-sticks, potatoes and watermelons - based on an almost never-ending 'list' (made via several rounds of consultation with the family elders and the 'pandit') . :-)

The post 'khichuri--aloor-dum--begun-bhaja' (Mom always works wonders in the kitchen!) period saw us engaged in a serious session of family 'rooftop cricket'. Brushing our disappointment (thanks to India's 'brilliant' world-cup performance) aside, we sweated and battled on - every man for himself... and woman (my sisters were participating in this rare event) too! We had our own set of rules (e.g. 'one-drop-one-hand', for those who've been there before), some of which were harsh and unforgiving! The action continued till we were forced to call off play due to bad light. But, no worries - another attraction awaited us a few floors below - Mohun Bagan vs. East Bengal. A few 'ghoti' vs. 'bangal' duels (each of these camps is convinced that they are the "real" bengalis! :-)...) were taking place dangerously close to the television, whilst the match dribbled on. In spite of the fact that FIFA thinks we're 'ancient' when it comes to football, I thought the match was pretty good. To our delight (and Atanu-da's dismay), Mohun Bagan emerged victorious!

And now... a bunch of 'anothers'. This marks - another financial year (originally). Another chance, after 1st Jan, to rethink and renew any resolutions that may have gone astray over the past few months. Another reason to celebrate. Another day spent basking in the glow and warmth that come free with being in a typically bengali family. :-)

All in all - a good start to the 'notun bochhor' (new year) at my end. Here's wishing you the very best in all your endeavours! Shubho (belated) naboborsho once again.

May your dreams come true.
Preeti o subhechha-soho...

Sourav

life could be a book…

Life could be a book that's being written
Every single day and all the while;
Hurriedly scribbled paragraphs and sketches
Just as we progress from mile to mile.
Aided by fancy wooden bookmarks,
We keep turning back to pages from the past -
The colours – bright, vibrant, sometimes morbid
Suck us into the mystic spells they cast.
Events – those recorded in great detail,
Trigger off a ‘rainbow’ of emotion;
Even seemingly harmless, little acts
Are equipped to cause quite a commotion.
The chapters - perhaps repetitive, monotonous…
Are then revived by a bolt from the blue.
And old scenes from a long forgotten script
Replay themselves again - ‘tis deja vous!
Some of us wait patiently and watch –
Hoping for divine intervention…
Whilst the rest, we unfold our own stories;
Driven by ambition and intention.
The pages-full-of-laughter are multi-coloured,
And love is almost always a loving red;
But of course there’s no hard-and-fast convention
Feel free to use your own shades instead!

As the exuberance of youth wears thin,
With pen-in-hand, we're no longer as steady;
And the ink runs dry whilst the pages revolt,
Regardless of whether or not you’re ready.
Who 'decides' the “end” could be a matter of discussion –
Opinions may cross swords in a debate.
Do us mere mortals get to write our final chapters?
Or do the mighty 'Hands of God' pen down our fate?
Some books tell tales of ‘birds of promise’ -
Abruptly, unfairly shot down in flight!
But most stories have ingredients in proportions -
A fizzy cocktail of Sorrow and Delight.
Clockwork - soon, an epilogue is in place.
On the covers – a number assigned and engraved.
An alignment is then made - to a rack on a shelf
Based on what parameters? How you’ve behaved?
The “dead you knew” could perhaps recommend you!
You could throw in a few good deeds as well;
You’re book? Well, it’s either in the “Heaven” section
Or in the crowded space below, marked “Hell”!