Wednesday, March 30, 2011

Won't be Summer

It won't be summer without her,
without her voice; soft, lilting,
slow to speech
yet animated at times,
like clouds suddenly clearing.

It won't be summer without her,
without her smile; lost, thoughtful,
like the evening's first breeze
flitting by and by,
lifting even the gloomiest moments.

It won't be summer without her,
without her eyes; quiet, dreamy,
a rainbow of emotions, always
hard to understand,
yet making sense somewhere deep within.

She's a name in my phone,
She's someone I lost long ago,
She's the occasional dream
which will never come to be.
Yet its footsteps echo deep inside.

It won't be summer without her.

Sunday, March 27, 2011

Remembering ahead

One of my seniors from school, Debosmita authors a really awesome blog which I follow quite regularly. A lawyer by profession, she leads a rather hectic life. Recently she blogged about the things she wanted back from life which was thoughtfully as well as hilariously written.
My student life being in its very final phase, I thought that post was the sort of thing that put my life (which is about to change quite soon) in perspective. So let me just walk you through that post and tell you how close and far apart my life is from the one described there right now...

 The time when I could hit on a guy without having to stress about whether he is older to me or not! (unlike the present times, when I have stopped even checking out men since they invariably turn out be younger or if older, then married)
 For me, (successfully) hitting on an older girl would mean more financial security, amongst other things XD  Anyway a guy has usually no issues hitting on younger girls, married or otherwise. Beyond a certain point, actually, the younger the better. Of course, I make no concessions as to how far or if at all the last couple of lines apply to me.

The only time when I would be late in reaching home would be either from a fest or from a night out! (unlike the present times, when I routinely reach home late from office or from a client meeting)
Well, this applies for everybody, doesn't it? It's about time that the powers that be, divine et cetera, do something about extending the length of day beyond the stipulated 24 hours.

The only work I would do on a Sunday would be a bit of spring-cleaning of my own room (unlike present times when I sometimes go to office or to the chamber of a senior counsel or work from home)
Well, I am rarely free on  Sundays anyway. There are always chores to run or tuitions. That shall not change. Like, ever. The degree of busyness might change. Though in my line I don't expect it to be that bad.

The only stress in life would be whether I would be able to maintain my CGPA [Cumulative Grade Point Average] (unlike present times when I have to worry about keeping my job)

Being a worrywart by nature, I highly doubt I could be much worse than I am now. In any case, as long as I enjoy what I am doing, I do have some semblance of peace about myself.

The only financial trouble for me was to sustain myself on the meagre pocket money (unlike now when I have to earn well, spend and invest wisely and also do intelligent tax planning) 
Being a statistician, I must say that this doesn't trouble me much. As a matter of fact, it is something I probably would look forward to.

The days when I was the queen of multitasking – juggling classes, swimming, internship and research projects together (unlike these days when I fail miserably to juggle even five assignments and three bosses at a time) 
Five assignments and three bosses? What ARE you? Uma Thurman from My Super Ex Girlfriend? I fluctuate wildly in this respect. Sometimes I can study, text and practise guitar scales all at the same time. Sometimes I cannot chew and talk on the phone together. HMPH.

The days when I could make blanks calls from the landline to another landline and have fun (unlike the present days when mobile phone has robbed me of this opportunity)
We currently do not have a landline at home, but I intend to get one installed as soon as I can afford it. For aforementioned reasons.

The days when I wanted to buy all the books from the bookstore but did not have the money (unlike now when I have the money but not the time to read books)
The latter part of that statement, irrespective of what one might say, is an excuse. If one wants to read, if one is desperate enough, there is always a way. Thankfully, I am quite confident that my hyperactive conscience won't ever let me stop being a bookworm.

The days when I would be asked "What do you want to be when you grow up?" (unlike now when I am asked "When do you plan to settle down?")
This even I dread. I do. But then again, awesome chance to have some fun at the expense of relatives you are not very fond of.

The times when I would return from school and immediately call my best friend for chatting some more (unlike now when I am hard pressed to call my close friends even once a month)  
Another thing I absolutely dread. It is already happening. I don't get to spend as much as much time in the company of my friends that I would want. Thankfully, being a texting junkie compensates somewhat for this, even if only by a miniscule bit.

The times when I would fret for days if a friend broke my trust (unlike now when I hardly trust anybody for them to break it)
I am unfortunately both the person within brackets and without.

The times when I used to dream about the future (unlike now, when I dream about the past)  
Hopefully, as long as I can make two lines rhyme, as long as I remember what a minor chord and major chord is, as long as I can feel words with all my senses, I shall be both the person within brackets and the one outside...

Life around us is ever changing, and sometimes change IS the only constant (don't applaud, I didn't say this first). I may just be indulging in wishful thinking, but I do not intend to give up on the things I love may what come. Only time will tell...

n.b. - The original post, replete with wit and insight, can be found here. Thanks to the author for letting me use it.

Sunday, March 13, 2011


There's this song in my head
and all its notes are blurred,
yet as the words in it fade,
it still strains to be heard.

In the dark it glows and flows,
like trails of rusty tears,
while its chorus forever sings
of all my deepest fears.

So many words I had to say,
but they don't fit anywhere;
some I kept some threw away,
some pushed in here and there.

Writhing, writhing, under my skin,
words with no tomorrow,
words of love, anger, and whim,
words of hope, joy and sorrow,

Words with teeth and words with knives,
words with the touch of a feather,
words which make or break your life
or keep you under the weather.

There's this song in my head,
verse, chorus and refrain,
look at all the changes I made,
yet the song remains the same.

n.b. This depressing poem was written during a sixteen minute metro ride between Garia and Hazra. I do not know what inspired it. But I think the song playing in the background might just have something to do with how this came out.

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Gandu - The Loser

For those who have no clue what this is all about, Gandu is a Bengali movie directed by Quashiq Mukherjee aka Q. It is 90 mins of B/W and a vocal jackhammer. It is already creating waves internationally, but don't expect an Indian release. Here's why :


The movie has already taken campuses by storm. All with just two trailers.

Music for the movie has been provided entirely by the city's own Five Little Indians, with Gandu himself doing the rapping.

Fucked up? Yes. Brilliant? Possibly.
Not everybody's cup of tea anyway.

And there are voices in the night.
The wind.
The chimes.
The dogs barking.
The trees rustling. But I can't hear them unless I'm on the terrace.
The fan, running at full speed for the first time this year.
Fingers clattering away at the keyboard.

Good night.

Friday, March 4, 2011

In defense of Saat Khoon Maaf

There were seven.

The first one was a sneering major. Who had a moustache. It looked tailor made for his sneer. That probably did him in in the end. His chest hair and his impotency too, maybe, but for that I will give Susanna the benefit of doubt. And dude, there's a time and place for making out, even with your wife. Mere andar ka janwar toh jaag gaya hai is hardly something you say while hunting for a panther. Its not even corny. Its suicidal. No wonder she sent hiim to the asli janwar. Happy making out.

The next renames himself Jim, fine.He gets married and sings her a plagiarised song as a wedding gift while lying naked in the rain. He was lucky she didn't murder him when she found out about that. And he was GAY. Well, what other hunk sings in a boys choir? Eh? And the clothes he was wearing at the concerts. His getup looked like he was trying to be, in turn, Axl Rose on steroids or Hendrix on a steady regime of Garnier Men's Fairness Cream. Even that she tolerated. He starts doing heroin and cross dress (with skimpy clothes. G-A-Y). Runs around (semi) naked with (semi) naked girls playing laser tag (even Barney Stinson would be shocked) and not even act ashamed at being found out. Sigh. Even then she kept him alive. She tied him to the bed and tried to get him detoxed (under different circumstances, that could even have been sexy). No use. So she gave him his lover of choice, the girl with golden eyes. I'm surprised he lasted that long.

Then there was the poet by day and sadist abusive sex fiend by night. I won't say much about him, because he makes me sick. Anyone, one shouldn't knock about a psychopath murderer and expect to get away with it. He got a decent death, I say. Way more decent than he deserved, actually. They khodo-fied a grave and gaaro-ed him there, Too soft. It should have been more brutal.

Then was, umm, right, the Russian. Probably said the corniest line ever. A reply to mere paas gaari hai is under no circumstances mere paas ma hai. BLEH. He didn't do much though, just had another wife and child in another country. Ass, didn't you notice that your darrling was one wife too many already? R.I.P.

Ahhhh, the police officer. Some brilliant, brilliant work there. A decade long infatuation which finally came to fruition when he helped her not get convicted for murder of her last hubby dearest. That should have warned him. It didn't. He just allowed himself to be led. She thought she could discard him whenever, but she gave him too much 'sukh and santosh' that first night. God that had to be one of the craziest and moving (literally, not figuratively) scenes. Rather like an ad which used to come on TV, just more... real. And then he kept coming back for more. So she married him and OD'ed him. Guess on what. Anyway, that had to be her shortest tryst of marriage (one scene long), but then there was a lot of foreplay, I suppose :-D

Finally, the Bong doctor. Spoke Hindi with a Bengali accent, spoke English with a Bengali accent. Spoke Bengali with a Bengali accent. Absolutely authentic. Obsessed with mushrooms. It was only a matter of time that he got the girl (well, everyone knows that Bongs are irresistible). And then he tried to kill her for money. Actually the only one who actually tried to do so. So he went out with a bang. quite literally. Not how i would wanna die, actually. *shudder*

I shall not speak about the seventh one, since he was already dead and she drank his blood. I just think he got too much screen time. Just a silhouette would have been enough.

And finally there was the one who got away. Her khargosh, the one she later tried to seduce, the only one who loved her yet saw her for who she was. Lucky chap to be alive, honestly. I wonder, though, who got away from whom.

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

From Raagas to Rock - The Segued Sessions

Sujato, Gourab and I met up a couple of days before Sujato was due to leave the city to make some music one last time. Sujato's friends Rituparna and Aurindam was also there to lend us their camera and vocal skills.
In terms of instrumentation, Gourab was lacking his mandolin, but instead had his flute. There were two electric guitars in the house and one acoustic to go with it. In short, enough to take down the house. I have exclusively played the electric in all the songs, and Sujato has played the acoustic in every other song where his vocal duties have allowed him some slack. Gourab has played the flute in the classical songs and an electric (he is NOT a guitarist btw, aka hear the man PLAY!) in everything else.
The songs that got documented are... (in chronological order)

The other songs which were also sung included Aankhon ke Saagar (Fuzon) and Aadat(Jal).
This session just showcases our diverse tastes in music, I suppose, and the way all three of us dislike stereotyping the music we listen to and play...


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