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.

02:42.
Good night.

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.

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...

The Akshay Patra Indiblogger Meet : The Who When Where and What

All pictures used here have been clicked by Kuntal Gupta. Thanks Kuntal for letting me use them to colour my post. You're da man.

The Indiblogger meet had been announced almost a month earlier, and was to be held on the 20th of Feb. I had signed up for the meet pretty early, and it was heartening to see the number of potential attendees swell up as the day for the meet approached.

The Venue, right beside City Centre I

I am one of those people who have this bad habit of punctuality, and keeping up with it, I reached the venue a good 15 minutes before noon. I knew that the Five Little Indians were to play near the end of the day's proceedings, and I could hear them jamming from outside the auditorium as they set up their rig. I went in through what I suppose was the wrong entrance, thus having to hop, skip and jump over the wires and the apparatus strewn about, and hopefully not subjected to too many looks of consternation.

The Hall was mostly empty, with barely fifteen twenty people there other than the Indiblogger team, all decked up in their finery of Indiblogger Tees. I went and registered (it was fun watching the names and updates come up on the screen projected on the wall) and found myself a quiet corner to sit, not quite sure what to do or what was happening around me. I spent my time watching people come in, register, walk up to a huge marquee/banner thingy kept there by the IB team and spraypaint all over it. After a point of time even I couldn't resist the pull of graffiti.

 IndiGraffiti in progress

Indiblogger's version of a Welcome Mat

A few minutes later walked in somebody who looked vaguely familiar. On a hunch I went up to speak to her, and it turned out that she WAS one of my seniors from school. Well, the familiar face of Debosmita immediately updated my status from lost puppy to at-peace-with-myself.

Within ten minutes or so, more and more people had started trickling in, and the band, by then done setting up their stuff, packed up their instruments and went off to do whatever it is bands do in when not playing music, thus leaving the auditorium in relative silence and people like me (who basically knew nobody and so were listening to the band jam with full attention) at a loss as to what came next. A lot of people seemed to know each other already and I could see clusters forming all round. By then the IB team had decided that they better get things rolling soon, so Anoop took the mic, called us to order, and steamrolled through the first three bits in their agenda in three minutes flat.

Then came the thirty seconds of fame, where all the bloggers were given half a minute (of Bengali Standard Time) to speak about themselves and their blogs, our names being displayed at random on the screen. Well, I shall (very tactfully) not go into any further details about this (mostly because I stumbled and bumbled through the whole thing). Let me sum it up by saying that there were a lot of laughs as the bloggers introduced themselves and everybody was treated to liberal doses of applause.

 30 seconds of fame

Right after that, the The Akshay Patra Foundation  was introduced to us, the main sponsors of the meet, and we were given a presentation and a talk about how the Foundation was doing a really amazing job with their mid day meal scheme in 8 states across the country. The final bit in that presentation was a (slightly long) recording of a speech given by Narayan Murthy, where he spoke at length about why the Foundations work was so important and their vision for the future.

 

The presentation in progress

Anyway, lets skip to the lunch bit. It was then that people actually got talking. Sumptuous quantities of good food helped, of course. A few of the Indiblogger people could be heard talking about how much they wanted to have proper Bengali food. The food court was quite palatial and snippets of conversation floated about everywhere along with the aroma of the food till we were shooed back into the auditorium where we found chart paper and sketch pens lying on all chairs. Rakesh and I deduced that they were (for some yet unfathomed reason) for hanging about our necks, though Animesh was sure his wouldn't go over his head. The IB team shortly confirmed my suspicions and told us to hang the charts behind our backs and go around and get commented on, the real world equivalent of blogging. in a way. This was really reminiscent of school, and for the next 30-40 mins there were yellow-yellow-dirty fellows (and the occasional person in white) walking about commenting and getting commented upon. It broke what little ice remained between the people present.

 Live and let comment

We literally had to be forced back to our seats, and then a lottery was conducted with the charts to find lucky winners, though they weren't awarded any prizes as far as I could see. The meet was then entering its final phases and the bloggers divided themselves into groups and one spent time discussing the technical aspects of blogging on one hand while the other group discussed about blogging for social issues.

This was the tech discussion. That's me straining to hear what is being said.

A third group secretly separated themselves from the rest, and we, in the true spirit of Bangaliana sat around a round table and indulged in full fledged adda. I remember Kuntal, Rakesh, Aritry and Deborshi being there, and we were joined from time to time by Addy and Vineet who not only kept us entertained but also told us a lot about the whole Indiblogger experience. It was total unadulterated fun till Anoop told us to wind up, which included moving all chairs and tables to make way for the band.

 Five Little Indians

FLI took the stage and stated outright that they don't do covers. They immediately launched into one searing song after another. The bass boomed, the drums shook up the whole auditorium, the guitarist might as well have had an extra pair of hands, and the vocalists complimented, harmonised, and to put it very bluntly, kicked absolute arse. All of us present moshed and sung along till we were hoarse.

 Five Little Indians in full flow

6 o' clock and the performance over, we slowly made our way out, collecting our Indiblogger Tees, shaking hands and taking numbers and URLs.

The Indiblogger team had put a lot of effort into this meet, and it was picture perfect. All of us had an absolute blast, and I look forward to more such meets in the near future.

A different flavour of homecoming

Raul scored against Valencia a few days back. Even at this age, he astounds me. He is not a magician like Messi or Ronaldo, but what he has already achieved is still worth an ovation. He is hardworking, and he does what he is supposed to do. Score. He has done so for Spain and Madrid year after year. And now he is doing it for Schalke. Way to go, Raul.

In Black and White

And my mom was like, Kal TV te Roman Holiday diyeche. Dekhbo bhabchi.
I was a bit surprised, since I know my mom doesn't watch many english movies. And this movie was almost as old as her. So I asked her when she had seen it before.
Turns out it was one of the first movies my dad took my mom out on a date to.

For a favourite crazy doctor

One of my best friends is getting married this sunday. And I'm quite pissed at myself at not being able to make it. way more pissed than she is at me, i think.

she was one of the people who turned me into a chocolate junkie. (should I be thanking her for that?)
she was the person who made me fall for western classical music, especially the cello.
she was the person who made me realise that mumbai isn't that bad a place to be, actually.

she's a charming and sparkling person by day and a chainsaw wielding, coffee drinking crazy doctor by night. awesome combination, i say.

so. this one's for you. :-)