the sun still sets here...
it sets on the national highway enroute the dusty tracks..
the sugarcrane trucks still block the speeding dehradum/hardwar busses on theway...
there is a queer fresh cold perfumed feeling in the soil ...
when it rains here just at the beginning of winters....
the halogens still decorate the bride...in its subtle hues..
civil lines still has snack point...still has student's corner, cambridge, themandir, and the queues of punju shaadis of 'aaj mere bhai ke shaadi hain'..
there is still the 7 rupee old lassee at the end of a walk ...
vicky still reigns with his new stocks....he says he remembers us every now n then...do we believe in him!
there is a refurbished satkar these days with four beautiful faces of nescafemodels....decorating its precincts..
for a change i find women far more beautiful than they had been when we wereyoung ...
the enc tower still looms large ...the lawns r manicured...the department of management studies is in a huge newbuilding...
our rooms still remain the same..so does uges or the tennis courts...they all are there...
raining today with me on them however are their hiddentears...
tears of a soul whos returned to find oneself alone in his home...am in roorkee .......
Friday, November 26, 2004
Tuesday, November 23, 2004
Yahin woh jagah hain...
Yahin woh fizayein
Yahin par kabhi aap hum se mile the
Inhe hum bhala kis tarah bhul jaaye
Yahin par kabhi aap hum se mile the...
Yahin par mera haath...
haathon mein lekar....
kaabhi naa bichaarne ka wadaa kiya tha..
Sadaa ke liye ho gaaye hum tumhare
Gale se lagakar humhe yeh kahaa tha...
Kaabhi tum naa hoge humhare wafaayein
Yahin par kaabhi aap hum se mile the
Yahin woh jagah hain...
Yaahin woh fizaayein
Yahin par kaabhi aap hum se mile the
Yahin par wafaa kaa naya rang bhar ke
Banaye thi chahat ki tasveer hi tumne
Yaahin ke bahaaron se fulon ko chumkar
Sawari ki ulfat ki taqdeer tumne
Woh din aapko yaad kaise dilaaye...
Yahin par kaabhi aap hum se mile the
Yahin woh jagah hain...
Yahin woh fizayein
Yahin par kaabhi aap hum se mile the...
Small men. Shortlived men. Today there, tomorrow gone, thats what we all are. And yet it feels good. Feels good to get people's appreciation. To get noticed in the crowd. A yearning ...for which there are no answers....but it provides that momentary fame to glory.
Thats what this job gives. Flyer space. People ringing up and saying good story. Was the story good. 18 or perhaps more months into this job and my first flyer story in ET, an individual effort, that comes out of a dull,lonely sunday afternoon...When i sat in front of TV and watched the hordes of CAT aspirants lining up for an exam which i Know with the grace of 'force' not so long back had come across too..
That delhi morning. Cold. Me sitting decked in woollens. Knowing not where life will take me to. The exams came and went. The results came and went. So did the two years in one of the country's most venerable names. And now its 18 months into a job which has given me lots.
Yesterday evening i was thinking how this organisation has come to be a maai-baap to me. It has sustained my passion to whatever extent possible. Given me money for monthly schedules. Name and people who know me now, in whatever way that might be.
It has also given me two loves. The one love who came and went by and refused to accept it. The other that came, accepted it, but then closed lids of life. Reducing and leaving me into a bundle of passionless individual.
Is that a toast to life! When life comes to a full circle on 23rd of Nov, the story comes out on flyer space, and then one also finds that your 'loves' the ones from whom you have moved on in life, are looking back and trying to get back to that bridge which we had left in shambles.
Strange deja vu isnt it!
This is a test of you, baba lokenath i know, the test that tomorrow will be another plain day in office, evening i shall leave for delhi, and then columbia the phd university where i would most prefer to go would arrive.
I might end up, in not applying, sticking to the deadline. Might end up in just meeting up people, collecting transcripts, but staying back in this.
Sometimes i feel like that dog, which i saw a few weeks back, trapped in that gutter. Ekeing itself out of the wrench of dirt. Just not managing to. I need to get out, my Force above, praying to you to give me the levelheadedness....the maturity to appreciate that all this is.....
Just Dust in the wind......the wind which blows from one place to another leaving scars on the soil, eroded traces on the land.
Yahin woh jagah hain...
Yahin woh fizayein
Yahin par kabhi aap hum se mile the
Yahin woh fizayein
Yahin par kabhi aap hum se mile the
Inhe hum bhala kis tarah bhul jaaye
Yahin par kabhi aap hum se mile the...
Yahin par mera haath...
haathon mein lekar....
kaabhi naa bichaarne ka wadaa kiya tha..
Sadaa ke liye ho gaaye hum tumhare
Gale se lagakar humhe yeh kahaa tha...
Kaabhi tum naa hoge humhare wafaayein
Yahin par kaabhi aap hum se mile the
Yahin woh jagah hain...
Yaahin woh fizaayein
Yahin par kaabhi aap hum se mile the
Yahin par wafaa kaa naya rang bhar ke
Banaye thi chahat ki tasveer hi tumne
Yaahin ke bahaaron se fulon ko chumkar
Sawari ki ulfat ki taqdeer tumne
Woh din aapko yaad kaise dilaaye...
Yahin par kaabhi aap hum se mile the
Yahin woh jagah hain...
Yahin woh fizayein
Yahin par kaabhi aap hum se mile the...
Small men. Shortlived men. Today there, tomorrow gone, thats what we all are. And yet it feels good. Feels good to get people's appreciation. To get noticed in the crowd. A yearning ...for which there are no answers....but it provides that momentary fame to glory.
Thats what this job gives. Flyer space. People ringing up and saying good story. Was the story good. 18 or perhaps more months into this job and my first flyer story in ET, an individual effort, that comes out of a dull,lonely sunday afternoon...When i sat in front of TV and watched the hordes of CAT aspirants lining up for an exam which i Know with the grace of 'force' not so long back had come across too..
That delhi morning. Cold. Me sitting decked in woollens. Knowing not where life will take me to. The exams came and went. The results came and went. So did the two years in one of the country's most venerable names. And now its 18 months into a job which has given me lots.
Yesterday evening i was thinking how this organisation has come to be a maai-baap to me. It has sustained my passion to whatever extent possible. Given me money for monthly schedules. Name and people who know me now, in whatever way that might be.
It has also given me two loves. The one love who came and went by and refused to accept it. The other that came, accepted it, but then closed lids of life. Reducing and leaving me into a bundle of passionless individual.
Is that a toast to life! When life comes to a full circle on 23rd of Nov, the story comes out on flyer space, and then one also finds that your 'loves' the ones from whom you have moved on in life, are looking back and trying to get back to that bridge which we had left in shambles.
Strange deja vu isnt it!
This is a test of you, baba lokenath i know, the test that tomorrow will be another plain day in office, evening i shall leave for delhi, and then columbia the phd university where i would most prefer to go would arrive.
I might end up, in not applying, sticking to the deadline. Might end up in just meeting up people, collecting transcripts, but staying back in this.
Sometimes i feel like that dog, which i saw a few weeks back, trapped in that gutter. Ekeing itself out of the wrench of dirt. Just not managing to. I need to get out, my Force above, praying to you to give me the levelheadedness....the maturity to appreciate that all this is.....
Just Dust in the wind......the wind which blows from one place to another leaving scars on the soil, eroded traces on the land.
Yahin woh jagah hain...
Yahin woh fizayein
Yahin par kabhi aap hum se mile the
Thursday, November 11, 2004
"Tomorrow Never Dies..."
Or perhaps they do...just about a year back it was diwali here in bombay. It was blazing in the night skies, crackers and all, and i was all alone. People with whom i was staying had gone with their friends to enjoy diwali. I was waiting in office to get a round up from my paper's editor as to why he found my work not to be satisfactory enough!
A year has gone by, not the Venus like year on Earth terms, where 200 odd earth years, make up one, but a year mundane in its existence of the seasons and the months and the same people and the same work has gone by.
I am sitting again on a diwali evening on the same computer, writing up my blog. Well tis one is for new for i am sure but then its a great company.
Tomorrow never dies...or perhaps they do.
People are leaving my work place in drones. Exit modes. I am here thinking that well i will be able to do justice to my dreams of a phd, by applying properly. The laptop thing is stuck again, now i have even stopped bickering about it. It will come when it has to come.
Nice mails, from known unknown faces on the eve of diwali...fail to spur me up. last night father's broken voice almost awakened me up to a realisation that i got to be mature and not talk to him as if he is my shield in my life, professionally or money wise all the time. I kept myself shut abt the buying plans or the money that will flow out of my cofferrs in the coming days.
3 days of holidays, i am sure they will pass in a whisker.
- Some of my friends are busy preparing for their marriage.
- Some others are trying to settle out life by shifting from one vehicle (read jobs) to another.
- Some others still planning up to go home catch up on old times.
- SOme other have decided to move on to a getaway. With familiar or unfamiliar faces. How does familiarity matter anyways.
And me, am i special, i wonder, have decided to treat life pretty much in a routine manner. Interesting naa! well lets hope i can do justice to my applications, to my writing, to my plans for settling out my finances and buys and keep a cheer on my face.
Wish u a lot of happy, diwali, dhanteras, kalipujo, bhaifhota, bhai dhuj etc...all the festivities and occasions galore that mark this time of the year in India.
So long then adios my dear mate.
`theevolvingchild
A year has gone by, not the Venus like year on Earth terms, where 200 odd earth years, make up one, but a year mundane in its existence of the seasons and the months and the same people and the same work has gone by.
I am sitting again on a diwali evening on the same computer, writing up my blog. Well tis one is for new for i am sure but then its a great company.
Tomorrow never dies...or perhaps they do.
People are leaving my work place in drones. Exit modes. I am here thinking that well i will be able to do justice to my dreams of a phd, by applying properly. The laptop thing is stuck again, now i have even stopped bickering about it. It will come when it has to come.
Nice mails, from known unknown faces on the eve of diwali...fail to spur me up. last night father's broken voice almost awakened me up to a realisation that i got to be mature and not talk to him as if he is my shield in my life, professionally or money wise all the time. I kept myself shut abt the buying plans or the money that will flow out of my cofferrs in the coming days.
3 days of holidays, i am sure they will pass in a whisker.
- Some of my friends are busy preparing for their marriage.
- Some others are trying to settle out life by shifting from one vehicle (read jobs) to another.
- Some others still planning up to go home catch up on old times.
- SOme other have decided to move on to a getaway. With familiar or unfamiliar faces. How does familiarity matter anyways.
And me, am i special, i wonder, have decided to treat life pretty much in a routine manner. Interesting naa! well lets hope i can do justice to my applications, to my writing, to my plans for settling out my finances and buys and keep a cheer on my face.
Wish u a lot of happy, diwali, dhanteras, kalipujo, bhaifhota, bhai dhuj etc...all the festivities and occasions galore that mark this time of the year in India.
So long then adios my dear mate.
`theevolvingchild
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
The Magnificent out of the Mundane
Well shud that be the name of this jotting down. The 13 day long trip is over. It is so ironical that 13 the number forms such a huge part of my life.
The trip back home was momentous, the kinds one shud remember for a lifetime. The flight detour, the neck sprain, the train cancellations at howrah, waiting for the right one, getting up on the local to durgapur finally reaching 'home sweet home' on a day which we bengalis call the oshtomi, but any outsider would term as a day of utter chaos in the daily routine of life.
The green rice fields that i crossed on the way from burdwan to durgapur, all had a feeling of being so close to me, so known to me, that nothing seemed to have changed an iota in the returning back.
Nothing perhaps ever changes at one's home though to an unbiased observer it perhaps does.
Pujos were not exceptional. The rants from home to get married, more so from dear mother has risen. How can i make her understand everything of myself. And a result being me remaining silent, she saying i have become so reserved n stuff.
The late night jaunts to the pandals were good, but i enjoyed best the ride to asansol driving the car. The highway be it from durgapur to asansol or from texas to arizona has i guess the same feel, the same melody of always being on the move.
On one of the weekdays i visited Joka the institute from which i did my so called postgraduation degree. THings hadnt changed there too, faced had, the same profs still teach, i was left wondering if this is what i am aiming at doing, where from will i usher in the new on each and every day of life.
Back to Durgapur then, trying to keep mom darling's every little urging within the possible limits. Then it was time to come back again to Cal, to board the flight. Oh yes my home, my town doesnt have an airlifting facility, so obviously the nearest metro gets the credit.
Yesterday night before coming back i visited Belur. The same old house where a large part of my childhood in holidays used to be spent. The house which once was a vibrant gathering of my grandfathers n grandmothers now housed by their remnant of memories books, old clothes, torn tube lights and rags, earthen pots and two souls residing still. My youngest grandpa and my eldest grandma.
Enroute to the house as i took a rickshaw, i managed to enjoy the cherished view of a simple young bengali couple, walking back, perhaps from the tuitions of the evenings as they strive to complete their education. Oh what an effort their was to harness the magnificent in their most mundane of togetherness...and Also this leading on to nothing but a solitary existence like Didibhai baa chotodadu, at the end of life.
The child is back back from the glory of home, the belongingness of the rice fields, the rights of ownership of every small nook and corners of the town where he had grown up to an alien world, where his existence is but a matter of routine and nothing more.
What did i realise in all this! Did i imbibe anything in particular.
I cant talk about realisations but surely can walk you through some of the moments i will savour in this trip.
- The journey back, the air travel, the road travel, the travel over the hooghly to howrah station, it was all that i have left behind to embark on this life.
- The desperate tears that came out early morn as i left house early morning to catch the train to calcutta. I dont know, the last time i cried like that was seven years back when i left home for roorkee. Is this something for a move ahead, the sign of a further longer time till i can ever get back to my 'Own Corner' in this world.
- The sitting with bhatta dear, at the babughat ferryghat, over an abandoned steamer, decked in rusted iron and all other by products of industrialisation, as we two watched the sun set, the skies getting ruddier, the river flowing, the breeze serenading us on our cheeks as we crossed over to the other side of the hooghly. The old and the new Howrah Bridge were watching us, like the doormen in front of a house who know of everything thats going on inside but never utter a word of opinion about the same. How stolid isnt it!
- Finally, the early morning cal ride today as i came to the airport. the air jerky, kalipujo time setting in, the people still the same, they happy loitering around in their most mundane existence...
And me now back to eke out something more magnificent out of the mundane lives that we all live here.
The trip back home was momentous, the kinds one shud remember for a lifetime. The flight detour, the neck sprain, the train cancellations at howrah, waiting for the right one, getting up on the local to durgapur finally reaching 'home sweet home' on a day which we bengalis call the oshtomi, but any outsider would term as a day of utter chaos in the daily routine of life.
The green rice fields that i crossed on the way from burdwan to durgapur, all had a feeling of being so close to me, so known to me, that nothing seemed to have changed an iota in the returning back.
Nothing perhaps ever changes at one's home though to an unbiased observer it perhaps does.
Pujos were not exceptional. The rants from home to get married, more so from dear mother has risen. How can i make her understand everything of myself. And a result being me remaining silent, she saying i have become so reserved n stuff.
The late night jaunts to the pandals were good, but i enjoyed best the ride to asansol driving the car. The highway be it from durgapur to asansol or from texas to arizona has i guess the same feel, the same melody of always being on the move.
On one of the weekdays i visited Joka the institute from which i did my so called postgraduation degree. THings hadnt changed there too, faced had, the same profs still teach, i was left wondering if this is what i am aiming at doing, where from will i usher in the new on each and every day of life.
Back to Durgapur then, trying to keep mom darling's every little urging within the possible limits. Then it was time to come back again to Cal, to board the flight. Oh yes my home, my town doesnt have an airlifting facility, so obviously the nearest metro gets the credit.
Yesterday night before coming back i visited Belur. The same old house where a large part of my childhood in holidays used to be spent. The house which once was a vibrant gathering of my grandfathers n grandmothers now housed by their remnant of memories books, old clothes, torn tube lights and rags, earthen pots and two souls residing still. My youngest grandpa and my eldest grandma.
Enroute to the house as i took a rickshaw, i managed to enjoy the cherished view of a simple young bengali couple, walking back, perhaps from the tuitions of the evenings as they strive to complete their education. Oh what an effort their was to harness the magnificent in their most mundane of togetherness...and Also this leading on to nothing but a solitary existence like Didibhai baa chotodadu, at the end of life.
The child is back back from the glory of home, the belongingness of the rice fields, the rights of ownership of every small nook and corners of the town where he had grown up to an alien world, where his existence is but a matter of routine and nothing more.
What did i realise in all this! Did i imbibe anything in particular.
I cant talk about realisations but surely can walk you through some of the moments i will savour in this trip.
- The journey back, the air travel, the road travel, the travel over the hooghly to howrah station, it was all that i have left behind to embark on this life.
- The desperate tears that came out early morn as i left house early morning to catch the train to calcutta. I dont know, the last time i cried like that was seven years back when i left home for roorkee. Is this something for a move ahead, the sign of a further longer time till i can ever get back to my 'Own Corner' in this world.
- The sitting with bhatta dear, at the babughat ferryghat, over an abandoned steamer, decked in rusted iron and all other by products of industrialisation, as we two watched the sun set, the skies getting ruddier, the river flowing, the breeze serenading us on our cheeks as we crossed over to the other side of the hooghly. The old and the new Howrah Bridge were watching us, like the doormen in front of a house who know of everything thats going on inside but never utter a word of opinion about the same. How stolid isnt it!
- Finally, the early morning cal ride today as i came to the airport. the air jerky, kalipujo time setting in, the people still the same, they happy loitering around in their most mundane existence...
And me now back to eke out something more magnificent out of the mundane lives that we all live here.
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