| Daayeri Theke |

From a Diary..

Kobita r Agraahtishojye aami aaro oneker i moto,
du-chaarte bhul kore feli, chonde r bepare toto,
Obohito non uni, kono mastaar bolechilo,
shikkha r obhav aache - emon o shunechi.

Shob i oudhashinnye mene ni, karon shokaale,
bajaar er pothe, shobji r dokaan e, aarchokhe letush pata ti
dekhechi, ebong bhebhechi, jodi or moto lojjay,
kukre jete paartaam, jol er obhav e jodi shukotaam,
khure nebaar kicchu khon baade jodi benke jetaam,
chire portaam sthobdhotaay, holud-shobuj salader plete e..

A Translation

In the overeagerness of poetry, myself,
like so many others, make a mistake or two,
about rhyme, he is not so aware of,
some teacher had said once, education he lacks,
have heard that too..

I accept all such shortcomings, nonchalance, because,
in the morning, at the market, buying vegetables, i saw,
kind of benignly with my slant eyes, the lettuce leave,
saw, and said, if i could like her, shrink up in shame
just before being dug up, if i could bend out like her,
tearing myself, in the sounds of silence,
over the yellow-green salad's plate..





Oshadharon, beautiful poetry, by Utpol Kumar Basu, this time's Anondo Puraskar winner in Kolkata..More on him at http://www.boipara.com/bengali_literature_ebooks/bengali_poetry_literature_utpal01.asp

~amen..

| Musafir hoon Yaaron |

Musafir Hoon Yaaron
Na ghar hain naa thikana
Mujhe chalte jaana hain
Bas..Chalte jaana..

Ek raah ruk gaayi
to aur jud gaayi
mein mura to saath saath
raah mud gaayi
Hawa ke paro par
mera ashiyaana..

Musafir hoon yaaron
na ghar hain naa thikanaa.
mujhe chalte janaa hain.
Bas chalte jaanaa..

Din ne haath tham kar
idhar (pittsburgh) bitha liya
raat ishaare se udhar (durgapur) bula liya
shubha se shaam se mera dostaana

Musafir hoon yaaron..

|nucleus of a song and a smile|

one song, one smile..and how it captures..the nucleus of life, subtly and delicately.. ..am i the person for such a somebody!

him jhora chandni aalote..
haath duti raakhle noy ei haate..

ei tumi ei aami aanmone..
ek hoye gechi prem milone..

him jhora chandni aalote..
haath duti raakhle noy ei haate..

kotha noy aaji i niralaay..
mon deoa neoa hok dujonaay..

ei tumi, ei aami, aanmone..
ek hoye gechi, prem milone..

him jhora chandni aalote..
haath duti raakhle noy ei haate..

~tis a week of a song, which killed me..a smile which soothed me..thank u lord, more than me, do bless her..

| Remembering Mumbai |

~An Ad..nice one..

Omolkanti

| 2 Questions, i dont want answers|

How are you?

happy or unhappy,

Last night, after so many days,
living with you, your imageries,
left over silences, chirps,
loving you, i finally unloved you..

Go, where you want to go,
come back, and the promise
i had made, i will be there,
will be null and void..

She deserves all of me,
not you, not you,
how mean, how black
and white, full of no-greys,
how ruthless you were with me,
understanding me, and yet
not at all understanding me

If you find me, or I find you
dont expect anything, from me,
she has all the rights,
her hair, her eyes,
her gait and silences, obediences,
the child in her, has rights on me,

Today i have again decided
to become free, to love her,
unloving you...

What is love, though?

|Amaar Nisheeth - o Raat - er o - Badal - o - Dhara..|

In Bengali..

Amaar Nisheeth - o Raat - er o - Badol - o - Dhara..
Esho hey, gopone, amaar, shopon o loker dishahara,

Ogo ondhokaar er, ontorodhon, daao dheke mor poraano mor,
Aaami chaine, aami chaine, aami chaaine topon, chaine tara,

Nisheeth - o - Raat - er o - Badol - o Dhara..
Amaar Nisheeth - o Raat - er o - Badal - o - Dhara..

Jokhon shobaai mogon, ghum er ghore, niyo go, niyo go,
Amaar ghum niyo go boron o kore,

Jokhon shobaai mogon, ghum er ghore, niyo go, niyo go,
Amaar ghum niyo go boron o kore

Ekla ghore, chupe chupe, esho kebol, shur er rupe,
Ekla ghore, chupe chupe, esho kebol, shur er rupe,

Diyo go, diyo go, amaar chokh er jol er diyo shaara,
Nisheeth - o - Raat - er o - Badol - o Dhara..

Amaar Nisheeth - o Raat - er o - Badol - o - Dhara..
Esho hey, gopone, amaar, shopon o loker dishahara,
Amaar Nisheeth - o Raat - er o - Badol - o - Dhara..


In English...


|Amaar Nisheeth - o Raat - er o - Badal - o - Dhara..|

The clouds and rains of my dark deep nights
Come over, secretly, so what,

if aimlessly from the land of my dreams
Oh the innermost treasures of darkness,

Come over, cover my soul,
I dont want the sun, nor the stars,
Just the clouds and rains of my dark deep nights

When all of you are asleep,
do take my sleep over, you oh darkness,

If you come, come over,
only as music, in a solitary corner of the room,
And try giving answers to the tears of mine,

The clouds and rains of my dark deep nights
Come over, secretly, so what,
if aimlessly from my land of dreams...


~This song in bengali, explains the phd path, in totality it seems, start walking dear child, she, he, they are all waiting for you to join the walk with them, its time, high time.....else everything will fall astray...

|How Ustadji taught me a lesson!|

Am talking of Ustad Amjad Ali Khan, and his recital here, at the Carnegie Music Hall, yesterday. Some factoids before we get into the meat of the story.

a. He was accompanied with his two sons, Aman and Ayan.

b. Two tabla players too, one a disciple of Pandit Kishen Maharaj, and the other son of a decently stalwart tabla player, Anindo Chatterjee, the names: Anubrata Chatterjee( the announcer got it wrong, spelled it like a woman's name, and i wondered, how incidental, :) the readers of this page would know why!:)), and the other i have forgotten the chap's name, its a sacrilege but am sorry...

c. The plan of the programme: Ustadji, plays two short compositions first, leaves the stage for his sons, comes back, plays again a short one, and the three then end, the story for the evening, with Raag Kirwani, a South Indian classical borrowing, very judiciously picked..since all evening we were listening to entire India, East (Bengal and Assam), North (with a pilu kinds beat), West ( a Ganesh Bandana ) but then, what would happen to the South Indian brethrens spread around the world...hats off Ustadji, you sketched it nice...

The lesson:

a. But before that, let me talk of what else, if something else, is happening in life. A friend calls up, wants me to help her with an online magazine she wants to launch, and i talk of, i can help, but...lets bring young people, writers on board..and she agreed, and i thought, so are we becoming old....

b. The other day, my advisor, and two other very senior professors, start debating in a seminar if 56 is an old age, and i wondered, so...here is a feeling thats not new to me alone, aging men and women think about this too, that there time is going, and its time to pass on the baton, the stories to a new generation ...after all, tomorrow we will all perish aint it!

c. So hold on, the lesson is coming, but the weather outside was beautiful. It was sunny the entire day, rained a little in the evening, with Kimi, my Japanese friend, ( who thought Ustadji's music, seemed to give him a feeling as if he was walking on an ocean, he could feel the waves, and could see the bed, and yet, he knows that his walk on the ocean is alone, still, ongoing...) i enjoyed the sporadic Westerlies, that were stripping the spring flowers and laying them astray on the plush American roads, so typically home, i thought and felt comfortable....

All righto, the lesson then, and we go back to Raag Kirwani, and how Ustadji managed the cadences with the Sarod, he went fast, and then went slow, and then allowed Aman and Ayan to pick up the speed and then calibrate it too, giving space to the tabla players to catch up with the beats and the intermittent gaps as well, beautiful control, yes, thats the word, control, and beauty, composed, and lilting, like the rivers, which flow from the mountains into the plains, and soon submerges into the oceans, Kimi's oceans.....

Got the feel, collected it all, her and my thoughts to include young people, on board, how professors think/dont know/wonder, if 50+ means you are aging, Baba had written about this a little while back, the brain not being able to store data more, and i understood..the winds of change are blowing..

If i dont latch on to it now, bridge the young the aging with a new garb of being on stage, who will..if you dont, dear readers, who will!

So on that note, Vaah Ustadji, heres to you a bow, and a lovely poem to leave you with...


O me! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless--of cities fill'd with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light--of the objects mean--of the struggle ever renew'd;
Of the poor results of all--of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest--with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring--What good amid these, O me, O life?

Answer.

That you are here--that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you, you...will contribute a verse.

~Still a Child, but a growing child, the poem courtesy Walt Whitman!

|Tales and Truces|

|Tales and Truces|


Tell him dear,
That if i could
I would have written
this in my mother's tongue
This small piece for him..

Years it has been,
have left her womb,
embraced languages and concoctions
Writing still In adopted
scripts, the words loosing meaning..but not the feelings,

Tell him that my old friend,
Dadu, Grandpa, waits for him too,
Up there, Is it up,
Maybe its down, or maybe
the transition is on a same level ground

From one womb to the other
One tongue to another
One country to another
Some people to some other
All one, the same, life and the world..

Tell him that as i write
Sitting in a class, a professor,
narrates his work, a goatee,
suggesting dissertation topics, I look
at him, write and cry,

Tears, Moist eyes,
Wet noses, but they,
they are all so busy,
engrossed, analysing the area,
'The dark side of social ties'..

In this life, Am privy
to a social ivy, but,
the people who study the
world, seem to me as
nothing more, but on a chevy..

Tell him, am still on my legs,
No wheels, not yet, future,
i dont know, mother says,
she is afraid, she emails
me, and i revel at her dexterity..

To adapt and adopt,
changing times, varying rules
of the same old game; she sitting there,
just refuted the professor,
and then she went quiet..

Everybody knows the futility of it,
this is not a changed world, some things
are always the same,
vulnerable, praying, hoping,
still beautiful, with its own beauty..

Like her, continuing the argument
the professor tries, explains,
She just smiles, a beatific
one, the prof shakes a litle,
his goatee rumbles, truce;

Thats how life has been,
will always be; about truce,
He, my granpa, you, me, the lady
In the corner arguing, the professor,

My mother, her son,
the world, students inside
or outside the class, workers or
idle chaps, lovers or
disbelievers of love...

Everybody i know, look around
has made a truce, I realise
there is, was, always has been
a battle, for the children,
the young and the old,

Making a truce at the end of it,
waiting for nights to arrive,
the sun blazing, little too much,
the moon beckons, Its calmness
and languid black etches...

Like her voice,
the rare time she speaks,
I write, keep writing,
dont utter a word, hoping
that this you will tel him dear..

That nights, the deep darkness,
Days, the warm sun clad ones,
the most thoughtful lost ones,
or the nonthinking fools, around,
they are the same, mirror images of each other,

Truce that is what, they have all
made with each other, the images,
the people, with smiles,
tears, anger, sadness, warmth or
perhaps with a little blood

Tell him dear, we,
you and me,
still the warriors, and when,
our tales on the battlefiled
will have been written, shall make truce too...

~Rather shoddy, will embellish this one, some time..

~ The Night, from outside my house ~

--The Night--

1.
Today I have become the night.
Let no light touch me.
Let the meaning I have been cease.
Let my body become a different body.
Let all names signifying me disappear.
Pushed by an irresistible impulse
to become the night
I arrived here.
Let me become the night today.
I have a single aspiration today—
to become the night,
to abolish the ugliness in everything
and install beauty in its place.

2.
How long must I wait
before it is night ?
One cannot recollect the day's looks
unless it is night.
The moon and the stars will not arrive
unless it is night.
The whole sky will be a wilderness
unless it is night.
How do I get the time
to bring back to my mind
your celebrated eyes
unless it is night ?
How can the tuberoses of my steadfast love
blossom into expanding whiteness
unless it is night ?
How long must I wait
before it is night ?

3.
Describing that night is unholy.
Remembering the eyes of that night
is also unholy.
Years pass,but that exquisite night
does not re-enter my mind
that's still, and on the way to holiness.
Some unfinished poem
was inscribed on that night's face.
In the lamplight of my soul
I had once read its lines.
I am the despair of that poem,
and I dissolve
in the night.
I am already an ingredient of the night,
but the splendour of that night
(which, once upon a time,
was my own body's splendour)
does not return,
and years pass.

-- Prabashini Mahakud Tiwari,

Source: An old man, a close friend's grandfather suggested him to read this poem and having read it he sent it to me.

| for Maa, Baba and Bon |

|To every Parent |


There are little eyes upon you,
And they are watching night and day;

There are little ears that quickly take
In Every word you say;

There are little hands all eager to do
Everything you do,
And a little child who's dreaming of
The day he'll be like you.

You're the little child's idol,
You're the wisest of the wise,
In his little mind about you,
No Suspicions ever rise,

He believes in you devoutly,
Holds all you say and do;
He will say and do in your way when
He's grown up to be like you.

Theres a wide eyed little child who
Believes you're always right,
And his ears are always open and he
watches day and night;
You are setting an example,
Everyday in all you do
For the little child whos waiting,
To grow up and be like you..

~Author unknown.

| No more Masks, No more Mythologies ! |

The Poem as a Mask


When I wrote of the women in their dances and wildness, it was a mask,
on their mountain, gold-hunting, singing, in orgy,
it was a mask; when I wrote of the god,
fragmented, exiled from himself, his life, the love gone down with song,
it was myself, split open, unable to speak, in exile from myself.

There is no mountain, there is no god, there is memory
of my torn life, myself split open in sleep, the rescued child
beside me among the doctors, and a word
of rescue from the great eyes.

No more masks! No more mythologies!

Now, for the first time, the god lifts his hand,
the fragments join in me with their own music..

~ Muriel Rukeyeser.

| Reality, from above, through the window |

"Everytime i close the door on reality, it comes in through the window."

|Spring 2006|

|Spring '06|

Last spring, was down and out,
This spring, feel the pressure of the world,

Last spring, she went out of my life,
This spring, she strides in

Last spring, hated discipline
This spring, start loving it

Last spring, was still near home
This spring, so far away, that distances i fail to understand

Last spring, was made a man,
This spring, am becoming a gentle-man

Last Spring, despaired,
This Spring, stay aware

This of two Springs, from other seasons,
of two mes, from all my other mes...

Some select things happening in life.

* Shed off my favourite moustache after about a decade.
* Try to love routine and organisation to give reign to myself.
* A very senior (i respect a lot) economic history professor tells me, i need to discipline myself, though my "ideas flow a mile a minute".
* Float the idea of a magazine in our school's research community, might steer it start a Heinz Research blog. Seems like i am getting included in the community.
* Maa is worried, sister is worried, but i am not, i feel peace ever more so in life. This despite, a queer financial crunch i live through these days.
* And that despite knowing life shall be tough from here on.
* And yes, after a long time, i meet a good lady, dont know what will happen with her though, despite our ever promising increasing friendship.
* She says, i dont know a thing, and really i dont know a thing, let it remain that way.
* Remember dadu a lot, these days, and his walks, and the walking stick and what he shared with me, before he was gone.
* Got to sit with baba, its been a long long time, since we have had a heart to heart discussion, maybe we need it, so that we both enrich ourselves..

~agrowingchild.

| Am sad, is this how the world should be! |

From a post at IIM Calcutta's Discussion Board..somebody wanted to convey something about the current reservation debate..Gross.

Re: Petition against "RESERVATION"

I am having drinks at an upmarket pub, Zenzi, in Bandra. It's a Saturday evening. I am alone and on a lookout for a hot babe.

And there she is. Lissome and Sensuous. Enjoying a beer with her girlfriend. Before I make my move, a hunk approaches her. I am cursing myself, thinking why am I always late. May be my Boss was right when he denied me promotion citing my lack initiative.

The alphamale hunk is having a drink with her. Both get close. Seems that my Saturday night is blasted. But hey! Suddenly the hunk looks disappointed and leaves. What happened?

Anyways. It's a blessing in disguise and I make my move. We start with casual talk. Her gestures are inviting. We share a drink. She knows how to hold a guy's interest and that's rare. I am thinking 'Why does this have to be a one night stand; Can we have something more than that?'

I make my final move.

She hears: I've got a beautiful apartment. Wanna be my guest?

I hear: You know the policy of 50% reservation. Yesterday was my "Merit Night" and today's the "Quota Night". So, what's your surname?

Zenzi Hears: Hey, Alphamale! Wait!! I am coming too.

Am Sad.

a. I know whats he saying.
b. Probably i would have done the same.
c. Why is the world like this?
d. Why cant I, and the world move out of such mental frameworks?
e. Leave India, Leave USA, Leave the world, is that answer, am sad indeed...

~isthereacornerwhereicangettruehappiness!

..an illusion of some days..

--
Some days are like this
full of ennui full of clouds
look out the window
for sun, none, neither a stretch of blue

some days are like this
you know you are late
for reasons you wish
you were not so irate

some days are like this
full of void and knowing not
what to expect, cold or hot
despite outside the flying kites

some days are like this
you with yourself, and only
yourself, no change in
matters, or events galore

and i look at that pic of yours,
glasses and jeans, looking,
no, not at me,
an illusion, like today,

or those days
when like today
some days,
have always been like this.
--

Youngs Guys writing to me, Fill me with Tears...

May god bless them with the right direction...A mail from a very close junior from undergrad, one of the nicest blokes i have seen in life, highly promising, at the crossroads of life..What exactly can i tell him, save, keep the faith, keep working hard, its all the same story all the time, then, now, forever!!!
May god bless you dear...

love u dear...


Dear Chiru,

Hi...Its been a long time since I wrote to u...But I think u r intelligent enuf to interpret such spells of silence...

Today I need the advice of an elder brother...And I am turning to u for the same...

D's story:
I joined TCS hoping to work in the field of GIS...GIS in terms of technology holds levels of promise as mobile telephony did 15 years earlier...TCS had promised to provide me with opportunites where I wud get to use my architecture/planning skills as domain inputs and combine the same in working on some state of the art GIS projects...Sadly, enuf that did not happen...I did join TCS (the eventful day was the 28th of July, 2005...the maundy thursday of my life...)I went thru an excellent trng program and manage to top the trng...But I was in for a cruel shock when I came to Delhi...The GIS group did not have any projects...But then they did get a big project related to the oil and gas domain...halliburton was the client...a big name...one of the senior members of the GIS group recruited me for this project...atleast it was better than sitting on the bench...(the ones who didnt join this project are still sitting on the bench !)...

now...i was a fresher in a project populated by grandmas and grandmoms...they first wanted me to be a shadow resource...one who wud chip in when others wud be holidaying...its just like the rig u knw...the billing cant stop...so someone has to be all the altar to be sacrificed to the gods of halliburton...

but then the gods felt othewise...my client made me a fulltime billable resource...and a gentleman with almost four years of experience was sacrificed...the tcs manager felt bad...for his bet had been mocked and crucified by the client...

I like my client...he is a very practical and nice man...I am a member of a 3 member team...my team lead has 9 yrs of experience...my boss is from hell...and i shall soon land up in hell for cursing her always...

the folks in tcs are mediocre...mediocre too is a superlative degree for their skills...
the management sucks...docile group leaders and spineless managers...
the company hardly pays a salary...

but still I continue to battle...rarely do I get credit for my performance...the boss takes all the credit...but then I am patient...

all this while...i made a resolve...to go for a management degree...

I have joined TIME weekend classes...
I have been part of organisation initatives...(Corporate Social Responsibilty, I represent the TCS Gurgaon debating team, ushered in strategical changes...like a system of 360 degree feedback and many more, essay competitions, etc...)

I shall take CAT 2006 in November...and GMAT in August 2006...

Now, if u r wondering as to wht makes me write this mail other than a crib story being scripted...

well, my accuracy is fairly good for my cat preps...but then my speed is very, very slow...somehow i am not feeling very confident to crack the CAT...Though, I really want to do it...

I am fearful...wht happens if I am unable to bell the cat ???

i am also considering isb, hyd as a strong choice...for that i need a good gmat score...720 plus...i m confident of achieving that...
the essays i can manage...reccos...that too sudnt be much of a problem...

another surprise has come my way...my client wants me to visit houston for a month...sometime between august/sept/oct...the dates for the same have not been finalized...that wud affect my preps as well if I have to go...

Now I want to ask u...sud I continue working with TCS or look for better opportunites elsewhere...(e.g. evalueserve.com where I cud work in the area of business research...inductis...again a consulting role...etc...)these opportunites wud be more rewaring in terms of compensation and HOPEFULLY workwise as well...

but then a job hop wud mean that I get the label of an unstable employee as well...one who jumps...(this might not be very productive in terms of my B-school application for ISB, hyderabad)

on the other hand...

existence each day in tcs is a battle...the crib story sud paint a picture to u...

Chiru Da...I need ur insights to help me make a decision...

Looking forward to hearing frm u soon...

Mom keeps remembering u very often......

I hope that u r doing well...Do write back abt happngs at ur end...

Luv,
d

| A man has a heart 2 |

The Heart
---

In the days of his youth,
When he is still blinded to the truth,
In his quest for passion and joy,
A man's heart is like an unused harp,
Still to be played for others to enjoy.

With the slow passing of time,
As he enters the era of his prime,
Aching for a touch to stroke its strings,
His eyes are still with his heart,
Ignorant of the pain that love brings.

Until his harp is finally stroked,
And its brittle strings are finally rocked,
By the coy, the gentle and the strong,
He will learn the danger of being touched,
When one string makes everything go wrong.

To educate a seeking heart,
Which is devoid of art,
One has to walk a while,
Where beauty is a thing well known,
Learning when to put on a smile.

~Oley Maruma

| To be Honest and True |

To be Honest and True

My father brought me up well,
Haranguing me whenever he could,
That if I did not want to go to hell,
I should be good, honest and true,
Even when I was dejected and blue.

Whatever happened to my life,
My prospects would always be good;
Whether beset by misfortune or strife,
If my belief in honesty and truth,
Stayed with me beyond my youth.

My name would be puffed into fame,
If I did not become a thief or a knave;
Rose through deeds to the top of my game,
Acquiring wealth by fair and honest means,
And not by foul and dishonest means.

It is better to have an honest fame,
Living a modest, good and virtuous life,
Than to acquire a rich and notorious name.
It is better to feel loved at home,
Than to be revered abroad, in a foreign dome.


-- Olley Maruma

~Captures everything, so beautifully, saludos poetess..:)