Funeral Blues by W.H. Auden

The 1994 Hugh Grant starrer movie Four Weddings and a Funeral- cut to the funeral scene - this moment of grief could not have been more aptly conveyed as Matthew read out W. H Auden's Funeral Blues dedicated to his dead lover Gareth. The lines are filled with remorse, and express the sadness in a beautiful way. The heartbreak involved in the passing away of a beloved, when the ones left behind can only gather of what remains in the form of memories, the knowledge that things will never be the same again - these are the thoughts which make this an emotionally charged poem. 

My Memories of 2013

13 days more and this year would have come to an end. In the first month of this year, I did not know what to expect from it, but today as I write this post in the last month of this year, I am happy with how its turned out to be. So as I recollect the events, I look back in time and remember all the big and small memories that were created in the course of all these twelve months. The most memorable times of 2013, for me, are:

The trip to my favorite place
Rishikesh has always fascinated me. I will not be able to lay my finger down on a single factor which makes it extraordinary in my list. Maybe its the lush green hills that guard the river that flows through the heart of the city, maybe its the old temples and ashrams, and the evening arati when numerous diyas are lighted and floated on the river, maybe its the narrow, winding lanes, which always leads one to the ghats. This city leaves me wonder struck at the novelties one can find inside its old city walls. The year began with a trip to Rishikesh, and that is how my first special memory for the year was created.

                      

 The reunion with old friends
The trip to Bangalore early this year, allowed me to connect with some old school friends. It was very nostalgic for all of us, and we talked on for hours and discussed about common friends, schoolmates, teachers we liked the most and teachers we liked the least, of course the sour tongued dictatorial principal. It was surprising that how much our lives had changed in these years. Recollecting those days, it was tough accepting the part of these memories were seven year old and we had grown up. 




The Durga Puja celebrated away from home
This year I celebrated Durga Puja in Chennai in the company of my very first friends from college. Much to the contrary of what most people might think, this festival is celebrated with a lot of excitement and fervor in the southern capital city. Couple of my friends back from college who still live in the city made it to the pandal to participate in the celebration and it was a reunion sorts. It was the goddess had brought us all together. We offered pushpanjali, feasted on the bhog, and then went pandal hopping visiting the celebrations in BesantNagar and Kali Bari. Suddenly I did not miss home, at least not this time, not this year. 



The sleepover and Flynn Ryder
It took us three months to plan and execute it. We had lists ready for things to be done, games to be played, songs to be sang, dance moves to be practiced, movies to be watched, and most importantly, food to be eaten. Sleepover at Nethra's was the most awaited event of the year, we had talked about it for long, and now when it it did happen, our lists were tossed aside. After a nine hour long shift at work, and an hour long journey in the local train, our body and mind were both too tired to consider any which required us to think and move. We were happy to settle down with bowls of ramen and sigh over Flynn Ryder in Tangled.


The wedding in Kolkata
For someone who has never attended a Bengali wedding, this wedding was my perfect opportunity to see, learn, and understand the ceremonies. Its a mad rush, with someone shouting out instructions, another requesting for help with the tautto decorations, and then another asking you to go and fetch the napit from next gali. There is a lot of activity in the household, with anyone who is up on their on feet, helping around. It was amazing how so many people were involved in making this ceremony a beautiful and memorable one for the two people. This wedding, also gave me the chance to live and experience the city of Kolkata in my own small way. Walking in the lanes lined with old houses in Rashbehari Avenue, watching the yellow-black taxis zoom by, sipping hot masala tea served in kulhad - the old city charm is still intact in this city, and I for one have definitely fallen to its charms.

Now I am ready for the next year to come by, ready to create and remember some new memories.

A Probashi's Durga Pujo

You can take the Bangali out of Bengal, but you can't take Bengal out of the Bangali.

Being a probashi, I find myself in complete agreement to this statement. We may be living miles away from our homeland, but we remain very deeply connected to our bangali culture and traditions. 

The Durga Pujo celebrated annually in my para in Jamshedpur stands testimony to this fact. It is celebrated with a lot of enthusiasm and ardency. With the beat of the dhakis, and dhunuchi dance, the presence of the goddess fills everyone with the spirit of religious fervour. The dawn of Mahalaya breaks to the tune of Chandi Path playing aloud from every household. Pankaj Mullick's voice reciting the hymns from the ancient scripture, ushers in a grand home coming celebration of Goddess Durga that lasts ten days. The festivities also mark the death of the mighty Mahishasura, who meets his end at the hands of the powerful goddess. 

The preparation start as early as a month before, with every member armed with their shopping list. For the kids, it means new clothes, footwear, and lots of pocket money. The elders are happy enough to let go of us, and have their own adda sessions. 

Once the pushpanjoli (flower offerings to the goddess) is over, it is time for lunch. Amongst all the fanfare, food remains the most eagerly awaited part of the event. The bhog served in earthen pots with labra (mixed vegetable), and payesh has a different flavor altogether. Try what you may, this flavor is impossible to replicate in your kitchen at home. 

Now that paying our respect to the goddess, and partaking of the bhog is done, we move to the next activity of pandal hopping. The pujo spirit makes our favorite uncles and aunts become more generous as we get treated to that extra bit of cash, which is to be utilised for this very purpose of pandal hopping. We not only explore the pandals that line the nearby areas, but also the different roadside stalls that sell goodies. 

Durga Pujo is indeed a special time for all of us, young and old alike. The goddess's home coming is a very joyful event, even more tearful is the moment when we have to bid her farewell. Those ten days brings all of us together in a mysterious way, it's her way of telling us about the importance of family and how they will be there for you even when you are away. My probashi self completely understands this feeling. And, I still remain very much, the bangali at heart.

Playing Columbus the Explorer

Childhood is the best period of a man’s life. Carefree and innocent, the child is still adventurous, exhibiting a quality of curiosity. He is oblivious to the fear of the unknown. In fact the mystery is even more beckoning.

When one grows up on a heavy diet of books, especially the likes of Famous Five and The Secret Seven, this idea takes a stronger form. It is easy to imagine oneself as a young sleuth trying to figure out the thief stealing Das Aunty’s prized dahlias, or as a hero rescuing the baby bulbuli bird abandoned by its mother, and at times the explorer whose curiosity gets better of him and gets him to explore the compound of the abandoned Dutta bari.

Such was my childhood. Growing up in the steel city of Jamshedpur, we were a gang of eight. Though studying in different schools, we had formed a strong friendship which is often brought by the fact of living in the same para. Our games were quite simple, hide and seek, chain-chain, lock and key, and an occasional game of cricket or football. But the real fun lay when we went exploring. Riding our cycle, we felt so free and liberated, we went round the old and familiar roads, the new and not so familiar streets, ringing the cycle bell with excitement, calling each other names, shouting out cautions, and laughing our hearts out.

It was during one such evening, that we found ourselves near Domani. This area was a 15 min ride away from our homes, and marked the meeting point of two rivers, Kharkhai and Subarnarekha. It had been our long unfulfilled dream to cycle to this spot ever since we came here for the Chhat puja celebrations. The river bank ran along for five kilometres and we had to climb down the cemented steps to reach the river. It was a forbidden spot, more so if you were a child and unaccompanied by an elder. But today, there we stood, defying the rule, infused with the spirit of an explorer, breathing in the fresh, musky smell of the river, savouring the sight of a new land! The Dalma hills with its lush green forests lay on the other side, the electric lights of the small hamlets flickered in the evening twilight; we saw people being ferried across the river to their homes; they will be back again on this side in the morning with fresh supply of vegetables and fish. It was a moment, a calm, breath taking moment in life that stayed with all of us forever.

Our moment was interrupted by the screeching sound of a powerful vehicle. A cloud of dust hindered our vision, and once it settled down we were presented with the sight of the new Tata Safari STORME Explorer edition. Our eyes admired the curves of this bevy black beauty, which in every way looked the perfect SUV. We never saw Mohit’s uncle stepping out of the car and the angry look on his face. We were let off by after a tough scolding, but Mohit had it tougher getting his ears boxed in public! Anyways we decided, it was a day well spent, with the river bank finally conquered, we felt victorious. Thank goodness for childhood and the madness it brought with it.:)

This post is an entry for the #I am Explorer contest for Indiblogger.

Monsoon Memories

The rains are finally here! Thanks to the low depression created near the coastal Andhra, Chennai has been experiencing continuous rainfall over this weekend. A fresh, washed smell lingered in the air. The city welcomed me with the sight of overcast skies with roads washed out, mud splattered on the lanes, water-filled potholes, and constant play of pitter-patter of the raindrops. Men with trousers rolled up, mothers clutching the umbrella in one hand and in another  their kid, school kids moving in groups all trying to cluster under one big makeshift shelter, these sights are common sights during the rains.  

People in Chennai have always been very welcoming to any weather.  They treat the monsoons too with kindness, for without ample rainfall, the summer months would become difficult for the common man. 

It’s amazing how the sight of rainfall, fills you with nostalgia, bringing back memories. Memories, which go back to the times, when you were a seven year old; one who made paper boats and launched them in many rivulets that ran through the backyard, who would read Phantom as Ma brought in hot pakodas. These are my memories of the monsoon season. There is of course, the unspoken, silent prayer that please-God-let-tomorrow-be-a-holiday; but inevitably this prayer always went unanswered. Somehow my salutations and respects never appeased the rain God.

Being brought up in a Bengali household, I have been especially fond of food. And the perfect recipe for a rainy afternoon is incomplete without a meal of hot khichudi, with rivers of ghee running through and beguni. Mouth watering right!

For a bookworm like me, nothing beats the combo of a good book teamed up with some good food. And with the monsoon at my doorstep, it’s my favorite time of the year!

My Indian Literature Connection

As a school student, I had read my fair share of books authored by Indian writers. Back then, it was Narayan's Malgudi Days, Tagore's works, and the minor works of Vikram Seth and Anita Desai which we got to read as part of the CBSE English syllabus. Indian Writing in English, I was was introduced to this term in my first year of college. As the name suggests, the subject is Indian literature, written in the English language. So we read RK Narayan's The Guide, Raja Rao's Kanthapura, Mahasweta Devi's Arjun, Arundhati Roy's essay on the impending nuclear war and Naipaul's idea of India.' But there was more to Indian literature, as i was to discover later in the years to come. 

College had expanded my horizon, I discovered a complete new avenue of books and authors, I savored the names of books as I pronounced them to the nearby American Bookstore uncle. What began as just a subject to study for a semester, turned into a personal interest.

My handicap of not being able to read the Bengali language, forced me to explore the books kept in the Indian translation in English section. It was the best thing that happened to me. I realized that I had just uncovered a cache of regional literature. I had the good fortune to read the translated works of some celebrated authors from different languages like Tamil, Hindi, Punjabi, and of course Bengali. My reading list now had Sadat Hasan Manto, Satyajit Ray, Amrita Pritam. What drew me to this genre is the ease with which I was able to place myself in the situation, the place where the events occur. Familiarity helps in understanding, accepting and reasoning the plot, the outcome is a pleasurable read and this feeling stays with the reader forever.

There are a few books which left me with same sentiment.

Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni's The Palace of Illusions
This one was recommended by one of my colleagues. HIgh on the feminist ideology, this book is Mahabharata retold from Draupadi's viewpoint.

Ashapurna Devi's trilogy The First Promise, Subarnalata, Bakul Kotha
She is one first female writers in pre-independence era in Bengali literature. Her novels set in the same period give a unbiased view of the Bengali society of those time, her protagonists were most often the women folk, thus helped in getting their perspective of the matters.

Kalki's Ponniyan Selvan
This is a historical novel written by Kalki during the reign of the Chola kings. As the novel was based on the lives of real people, its a real account of the society back in the Chola era. It is a record in the form of a story, told in five-parts.

Every one of these books is a wonderful read. Each protagonist lives a different life, tells a different tale. Yesterday, I added a few new authors to my reading list, and have decided to explore a new line in the same subject, poetry. 

Soul searching through the lens

Its wonderful how thought provoking a movie can be. This Independence Day, I watched an old Hindi flick. The plot goes very simple; boy dreams of making big in the world, challenged by the old players and their rules, he defies all and makes it big on his own terms, but not before being ridiculed for his spirit to be remain true to himself.

Took a step back to the real life, and I found that things are not so different at all. When we start anything new, we are faced with doubts and questions from the rest, who exhibit a complete lack of confidence in our efforts, chances of succeeding in the chosen path.

To not give in these doubts, and answer the questions without compromising the values that one believes in, is the real test. Its tough. But then when was it ever easy. 

I realized that the ability to face the situation will aid in achieving the task. To seek, to strive, not to yield; this is what defines us. Hang on there for a moment, and face the situation, answer the questions, and you will be a wiser, strong man. 

Retrospection

8PM. Mount Poonamallee High road. Rupa saw buses, trucks, cars, bikes race down the road. As she sat in the LnT stop, waiting for her bus she sat thinking about how her life had changed. Four years old in the IT industry, and she was almost losing touch with her old self. What had happened? She missed her college days, her friends, their last bench gossips, the murukku sandwich from cafeteria, Thahiya madam's Gender Studies classes, the tall, green trees that grew by the English department. She recalled the day when she vacated her hostel, after living the 3 years of her graduate life; the watchman Tatha who helped her with the luggage, the final goodbye to the wardens. It all seemed like a story from the past.

Rupa took a deep and uneven breath and looked at her watch anxiously. 8.20PM. This did not look good. If it got too late, then she might miss her dinner. They closed the mess at 9.30 in the night. Another borrowed space, where she paid the rent every month for her food and accommodation. This time she smiled. She paid her rent, bought her groceries, visited her parents once every three months, she was able to bear her expenses and had some savings too. Rupa was happy, in that moment. In the next, 88L screeched to halt, and some people got down. She slung the backpack over her shoulder, and boarded the bus bound for T.Nagar. 

Chennai ki Garmi

Most of us identify Chennai with its climate, which is hot, humid and (pardon me for us) horrid. My friends, who have come to Chennai for trainings in their professional career, thanked their good stars once they bid farewell to the city. It seems the 'heat' had got them. The month of May happens to the hottest part of the year, locally known as Agni Nakshatram meaning fiery star. This post is dedicated to Chennai’s the month of May.

चेन्नई में मई का ये महिना,

सोच के ही आ जाये पसीना।  

दूसरे महीनों में नहीं इतनी परेशानी,

मई  की अलग ही है कहानी।   

सुबह के 10 से दोपहर के 4,

बहार निकलने के नहीं कोई आसार। 

सत्तू पानी, मट्ठा, दही

इडली, सांभर और नारियल चटनी। 

मई महीने का यही है भोजन,

संपूर्ण शाकाहारी बन जाता है अपना व्यंजन। 

25 का नारियल पानी मिलता है 40 में,

कोई 19-20 का फर्क नहीं है ये। 

चेन्नई की गर्मी में बदल जाती है सबकी चाल'

सूर्य देवता की कृपा है अपार। 

चेन्नई में मई का ये महिना,

सोच के ही आ जाता है पसीना। 

The 5 best things in my childhood

Vacations

Best perk of being in school. Oh the word brings back such fond memories! J. Summer and winter, the highlights of both this season was vacation time. Time off from school, meant that I could spent more time reading storybooks, cycling and exploring new areas, playing cricket or dip-dip. And of course, watch Chutti- Chutti on Doordarshan after completing my holiday homework.

Books

Remember Nancy drew, Hardy boys, Secret Seven, Famous Five, Phantom, Mandrake, ChachaChaudhary, Tinkle, Chandamama, and my favorites Tintin and The Three Investigators. I have always had a very healthy reader’s appetite, and enjoyed reading and collecting books. Saving my fee from the small errands that I ran for Ma, I used to buy Chandamama. But as years went by it was not enough, what cost only Rs. 2, has raised to Rs. 15 by time I finished schoolL.

Doordarshan

As a school student I had about 1.5 half hours set aside as viewing television programmes. With no cable connection, Doordarshan was only savior, but I am not complaining! My favorites shall always remain ByomkeshBakshi, Potli Baba Ki, Duck Tales, Tales Spin, Chekhov Ki Duniya, and EkTha Rusty. As I write this down, I begin to understand that my love for stories goes a long way back, and I need to thank Doordarshan for introducing me to Ruskin Bond, Chekhov, Tolstoy, Mark Twain and the Bong sleuths.

Evening adda

At 5.15 my house bell used to go off, our eight member strong gang rushed out for our daily playtime. All time favorite game was Dip-Dip, Chain-Chain, Lock-and-Key. Then there were the girls-only games like nine box. At times, when the boys insisted we played football and cricket in a small stretch of land at the end of K Road in Sonari. Winter season always meant endless games of badminton. When in mood for adventure, we used cycle around exploring new areas, away from our parents prying and concerned eyes. And this went on until 6.30; the street lights would come on, our mothers would repeatedly shout out for us to get back home.

Radio

In sans cable connection era, BBC, Voice of America, Akashvani, and Vividh Bharati were my source of information. Apart from the regular news and music, plays, interviews with famous personalities, science info were some very interesting segments in the programme format. While Ma cooked, and I studied, the radio played in the background. Back in my home, the radio was an integral part of our daily routine; it spelled the hour of the day for us. :)

Revisiting your childhood is always very nostalgic; it brings back a lot of memories, goood and bad. I look around and can see how much has changed since then. I guess just as I am growing old, the world is ageing as well. But there remain certain things which I cherished as a 14 year old child, hold the same charm for me as a 24 year old.

Dowry - Is that all to Marriage?

Being a quarter-of-a-century old arthropod is difficult, more so if you belong to the female species. And if you have the good chance of being born into an Indian family, then be prepared for a rough ordeal into the world of match making.

If luck has been unfavorable towards you, with regard to love, then count yourself in for some tough times. Yes its that time of your life, when all that parents talk to is about marriage, prospective grooms, the constant reminder that you-are-not-getting-any-younger, and so on. In most cases, this is just the prelude. it is often followed by emotional manipulation wherein you are tricked into giving your consent for this matrimony affair.

And then suddenly the ugly part of this drama is unveiled. I am talking about the forbidden word, Dowry. For most of us who have the privilege of hailing from educated families, brought up in free thinking environment, this is a rude awakening.

That was Rupa, last year. She was told that the groom's parents wanted a car, gold accessories for his sisters, and furnishing for his new flat at Thane. At first she was aghast, shocked that such an expectation was put forth despite them being family acquaintances. Rupa was shattered.

Of course she called things off, and on her family's insistence had to politely cite her sudden disinterest in marriage as the main reason. What remained with Rupa at the end of those 7 months was pain, disbelief, and disappointment. The experience left her emotionally scarred, and I as her friend have tried to understand what would have led to a well-to-do family to have such atrocious expectation.

And then it dawned upon me, it was never a marriage, it had been a business arrangement from the very beginning. Its like a bargain that you strike with your vegetable vendor at the weekly bazaar. When you arrive at a price that is agreeable to both parties, one decides to part ways with his goods and you have your item.

And yes, I am talking about marriage. Thats the horrifying part of it all.

Rupa is doing well today. She has move on since that incident. This has made her a stronger person, prepared her for the better or worse times of life which are yet to come.

Ajnabi

तू कौन है
जिसका सपना देखा मैंने
सोच - सोच मै घबराऊँ
पाऊ ना मै अब कुछ कहने

तू कौन है
जो लगे है जाना - पहचाना नहीं
तेरी बातें है बहुत प्यारी
पर है तू एक अजनबी

तू कौन है
जिससे हुआ है ये अनोखा परिचय
'तेरा साथ ' होगा कि नहीं
विधाता ही करेगा इसका निर्णय 

My Affair with the K Dramas

The affair started way back in 2006. I remember the late nights, urgent whispers, accompanied by a lot of sighs. Then followed the tears and arguments about whose fault it was. No I am not describing a lovers spat here! No boyfriend woes! I am here to speak about my longest standing affair..my relationship which soon turned into an obsession: the Korean drama fever which affected me and most of my girl friends.

Rich, handsome, arrogant, self-obsessed men as modern knights in shining armor; pretty, simple-minded, kind, i-hate-men women as damsel in distress - this the classic plot line for chick flicks. And it is something that appeals to the female audience, from 16 to 36. K dramas as they seem to popularly known as, seem to have discovered this success mantra rather early.

I remember growing up with our very own desi K dramas, Kyunki Saas.., Kashish..all this thanks to Ekta Kapoor. Its been a long way from them to my beloved Korean dramas. Closer home, the plot line for all the dramas have remained so predictably similar through all these years. Over-dramatic is the word. The Saas-Bahu conflict is at an all time high, the sindoor is a much deeper shade of red (maybe indicating Her stronger ever Savitri avatar?), the sarees get more glamorous and more of skin show. Alas! In all this the loss of a decent plot is deeply felt. Over the years the plot has strayed farther off from reality, and almost all bordering on banality. 

Now the reason why the Korean drama find such a wide audience, is not just because of the presence good looking people, they believe that a strong script is as much important as good acting. Almost all the dramas that I have viewed in the past 7 years, though the basic character structure for the main leads remains unchanged, the plot line has been dynamic, each one different from the other. 

Coffee Prince

For example, Coffee Prince and You're Beautiful, both were inspired by Shakespeare's Twelfth Night, but the main difference lay in their plot line. The former was based on a young unemployed girl's aspirations to become a Barista, the latter told the story of a nun in training impersonating her twin in an all boy band. The confusion caused by this gender impersonation leads the drama, followed by many episodes laden with comical acts. Both are successful dramas in their own right. 

You're Beautiful

The background score, the beginning and ending themes also add to a drama's success. You're Beautiful  had some very memorable numbers sung by Park Shin Hye. Though the meaning remains incomprehensible, (Yes, I do not understand Korean!) the music is quite soulful and you really need not understand the lyrics to enjoy it.

I shall end my post with a list of my favorite K dramas. 

Full House
Boys Over Flowers
Faith
Coffee Prince
My Girl
You're Beautiful

Well that's almost all about my affair with the K drama. But there remains so much more! I promise to follow it up soon in my future posts :) 

Without words by Park Shin Hye: You're Beautiful

Photographic Memories

Since childhood, I have always been drawn towards the glossy sheets of National Geographic magazine. Reading the articles, the child in me could make an instant connection with a culture or a place which was foreign. It was magical! All through the reading, it felt like a journey made from one continent to the other. What made the articles even more interesting were the pictures.

Now that I have grown up, I am still taken by the scenes of daily life. It can be as trivial as a busy traffic signal, a man selling ice lollies or even the empty Chennai roads on a sunny afternoon. These moments remain with me, in my memory forever.

Earlier this year, I was lucky to be part of this trip to Haridwar made with my family and paternal relatives. I have very fond memories of  this place in Uttarakhand, along with Rishikesh. You wake up to quiet, calm, chilly morning feeling fresh, rejuvenated. Watching the river Ganga flowing by, is another beautiful sight. I was fortunate enough to capture some of these memorable moments.

The avian visitor

Temples, Lamp Posts and Houses

Local Colors

Chai garam

The Chaiwala

The Milkman's bike

People and Police

People, Temple and Beliefs

Zindagi ek safar hai suhana!

Holy Cow

The Ganga beckons..

Tribute to Parsai

As a high school student, I was introduced to the world of Hindi literature. Premchand, Mahadevi Varma, Mahasweta Devi and, Ramdhari Singh Dinkar are few authors whose works in their respective lines of prose and poetry have left a deep impression on me. They have written on varied themes ranging from patriotism to social evils. They talked about the complexity of human relationship which exists at all levels.

However, a poem on the human nature of laziness, read way back in Std 8 introduced me to the lighter side of Hindi literature. The lines "Aaram haram hai, Isse na tapedik hoti hai; Aaram sudha ki ek boond, Tan ka dublapan khoti hai.". Penned by noted satirist Harishankar Parsai, this poem had subtly discussed the need for lack of exertion and importance of slacking. His simple writing style affected my high school self, in fact now as a 24 year old when I found myself questioning my hunger cravings, I decided to make an attempt to try something similar. The result is the lines written below, my personal tribute to the genius of Parsai :)

ये पापी पेट 

इसके लिए क्या-क्या पापड़ बेले 

पहले कॉलेज और पढाई 

और अब, प्रोजेक्ट और PM के झमेले 

ये पापी पेट 

जिसमे भूख की है इतनी आग 

न है है ये भैरवी, न भूपाली 

इसका तो है अपना अलग ही राग 

ये पापी पेट 

कामिनी है बहुत निराली 

दिन में तीन बार एकदम सही 

Time पे निकलेगी इसकी गाढ़ी 

अंत में बस येही सोचती हूँ 

क्या बदल जाती इस ज़िन्दगी की सूरत 

अगर न होती, हमे इस पापी पेट की ज़रूरत