Filed under: Poems????, craps ... — chapters @ 9:55 AM
Koi mulakaat aisi bhi ho
Ke zindegi thahar jae,
Labz aansoon banke
Ankhon se beh jaen….
Koi mulakaat aisi bhi ho
Ke Saansein tham jae
Hazaaron kwahison ki yeh zindegi
Bas usi pal me goojar jaen….
Filed under: Behind the screen..., Poems????, craps ..., uuphh yeh life!!! — chapters @ 6:40 PM
Kabhie fursat me yun hi agar
Dabi woh har gham bata dein
Chhupi woh har nafrat dikha dein
Bikhre woh har khwaab suna dein
Simte woh har khouf feilaa dein
Kya tab bhi yeh zindegi jannat kehlayegi?
******************************************
Kabhie fitrat se yun hi agar
Jalti woh har shamaa bujha dein
Mehekti woh har fizaa lutaa dein
Sarmaati woh har hayaa mita dein
Lehraati woh har nadi sukha dein
Kya tab bhi hume yeh zindegi jannat dikhaegi?
******************************************
Magar na hume woh fursat hain
Jo yaad karein us bewafaa ki bewafaai
Aur na hi yeh fitrat hai humari
Jo jiye hum woh jillat ki tanhaayi.
******************************************
Magar phir bhi,
Kabhie fursat me yun hi agar…
Filed under: Behind the screen..., craps ..., uuphh yeh life!!! — chapters @ 12:41 PM
People here in Kolkata are Jhaal Mudhi (Spiced Puffed Rice) fans. If you step out of your office anytime after 4 PM, you will find the Mudhi vendors with their stalls. You will easily recognize it if you find a big transparent polythene containing puffed rice on one side of the open stall; then there will be rows of glass jars with different kind of Namakins, peanuts, pickles etc, bowls containing minutely cut onion, ginger, green chilies, coriander leaves, coconut, boiled potatoes, raw tomatoes, & spice powder, salt and sometimes sprouts of chana.
In my place, it was always Mudhi and Mixture. I loved that. The crispy puffed rice and the tangy mixture was a delightful treat for me. I never preferred anything else to be added to eat. Here I tried eating the Jhaal Mudhi, but it was too much spiced for me. Even if I tell the Mudhi wala to make it less spicy then also the end product is always too much for my taste buds, because less-spicy does never find a place in Bengalis’ dictionary; either it is spicy or it is too much spicy!!! Bengalis love spicy food, so the vendor can never make what I demand for and I always get the after effect of eating their version of less-spiced puffed rice with a running nose, teary eyes and a red tongue. I am kind of allergic to chilies, cannot take even a little bit. (Most of the time I avoid putting chilies in any form while cooking.)
Anyhow, recently I discovered a way to make the vendors to prepare exactly what I want to eat. I wait for somebody to order his/her Jhaal Mudhi with all the spices and namkins and potatoes-tomatoes in it. After the vendor prepares it, he pours the whole mixture to a paper packet and then I jump in to order mine. I told him to add the puffed rice, one specific kind of namakin (called jhuri bhaja) and small amount of peanuts. No masala, pickles… nothing… not even salt. He gives me little more of the peanuts or Jhuri bhaja as there is no other ingredient in my version of Jhaal Mudhi and mixes it in the same container where he had prepared the earlier order. Getting mixed with the left over powdered masalas my jhaal mudhi becomes exactly what I want it to be. Some tiny pieces of ginger or onion also find their way to my jhaal mudhi. I find various kinds of tastes, but at the same time in the minimum amount one can imagine. And the puffed rice remains crispy as the potatoes, tomatoes, oil, pickles are not added to it. 
At-least now I have mastered the art of ordering a perfect crispy not so jhaal mudhi. With this achievement in hand, I look forward to other such intelligent inventions and thus successfully surviving in this spice land. Wish me luck 
Filed under: Behind the screen..., Very strange!!, craps ..., uuphh yeh life!!! — chapters @ 2:43 PM
Scenario 1:
You go to one city on a vacation, you roam around, you visit the city’s famous tourist places, you go for shopping in the city’s biggest shopping area, you eat at the city’s famous food joint and you find the city interesting; you fall in love with it almost instantly. After going back to your own place you keep on telling about how you enjoyed staying in the city, and how you find the people so welcoming, and how the unknown language spoken by them was so sweet to your ears even if you do not understand a single word of the entire conversation.
Scenario 2:
You go to the city because your company posted you there, you don’t get too much time to roam around apart from going to office and coming back to the place where you stay and call it “your room”, you visit the nearby bus sop to catch a bus and go to office daily, you go to the daily market near your place for the vegetable and grocery shopping, you eat at the office’s canteen or any food joint that is available near to your place which serves the most non-edible food you ever tried (forget about a decent vegetarian dish if you happen to be a vegetarian and the city happens to be where I am staying) and believe me or not you find the city disgusting; you start feeling the first kind of emotion which cannot be called love in any way, the very instant. You long to go back to your place and once back you want to forget your stay in the city as a nightmare which you never want to have again. Sometimes though you love to rant about how you survived there and how you found the people so selfish and how you were forced to learn the alien language as that is the only language people spoke there, even in the office, during any official meeting.
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AND you guessed it right, I am ranting now. After spending more than 3 years in Kolkata, at-least I cannot stop myself from ranting. People (Except few) here are kind of people who dance upon seeing money. If they see you are paying 200 for something without complaining then the next day they will ask you 500 for the same thing. Nothing is what you call a smooth-process over here if you are not ready to spend as much as they are demanding, even if it is almost same as getting bankrupt after spending that much. The way they behave is the most irritating thing. You go to a vegetable vendor, even if you are in the best of your moods, I give you my 100% guarantee that at the end you will get frustrated. They behave as-if they own us. In office, if you behave little saintly and extend your hand for helping somebody then be sure that you are going to be gulped down by the same fellow.
Yes, people here are too much proud for their heritage. But these are not the places where you go daily. And the place you spend maximum of your stay, makes you feel the instant need of resigning and running back to your Mom.
Now if you are wondering what exactly the thing that made me writing this post is, then say thanks to the flower vendors near my apartment for inspiring me. After coming to Kolkata, if anything in my behavior has changed then it is my temper; I have become short-tempered. Just a single person’s behavior in the morning can put me in one my worst moods for couple of days. And that very thing happened with me today. Normally I do my Puja with incent sticks and a diya. For some special occasions I buy flowers. As Bou is here, I buy her flower for daily Puja. Today, when I went to the flower vendor after the morning walk and asked him for 2 Rs worth loose flowers, he straight said “Chaar taka r niche kucho phool habe na” [You can't get loose flower worth below 4 Rs]. I expressed my astonishment as every day I buy 2 Rs worth flower only. But he simply said “Habena” [You can't get]. Okay fine, even if the rates have increased, he could have told me so, but the tone with which he addressed me, made my temper show its signs. I could have bought 10 Rs worth flower if he were not have made that disgusting face and showed me that attitude. I did not buy anything and returned home empty handed and told my mother to do her Puja without flower.
No intension of self praising, but I am soft spoken person. I behave very politely and give respect to everybody irrespective of the person’s position; He may be my manager or may be a rickshaw-puller. So is it wrong if I expect a more cordial answer from other people? I don’t think so. But here, people behave you like you are just not a human.
A city is not merely the pleasant things you get to see around when you visit. People staying in a city make what it is. You get a glimpse of the culture of a city from the behavior of the people belonging to it. There are monuments, temples, caves, beaches, market places, food joints, architectural beauties almost in every town you visit. It is just that they look different. I am not complaining about the dirt, filth, poverty, or the political Bandhs here. Being in India, you will get to see it everywhere, somewhere more, somewhere less. At the end of the day it won’t make any sense to you whether the Rabindra Setu, Victoria memorial, Esplanade or Botanical Garden was there at Kolkata or not. You will only remember how people behaved when you were there. And to speak of mine, I am very sorry, but it is not a very pleasant experience staying here.
Filed under: Behind the screen..., I Love..., craps ... — chapters @ 5:43 PM
Today I went for the morning walk little earlier than the time I usually go. I thought of start jogging today. It’s almost been a month I had started walking. The sole reason for the walk session was that someday, I would start running. I have already written here about my fascination for running which is growing gradually, without any reason. But once on the road, I feel it difficult to start running. I just walk… what you call a brisk walk of 45/50 minutes. My heart advices me to take a leap and just run like a wild horse, but my brain gives many reasons why I should not. It shows me the fellow morning walk goers and makes me imagine myself running… err rather huffing-n-puffing in front of all those people. In my imagination, I look like a big ping-pong ball bouncing up and down on the road. So, even-if my heart keeps on trying to get my bulls**t brain washed away, I cling and listen to my brain only and never run.
Today, I decided to go with my heart, as it assured me that if today I run then all those office politics getting jammed in my thoughts will be blown away with the wind. It takes me around 15 minutes to reach the place which is almost vehicle free and the road is comparatively smoother than the road near my house, so a safe street to walk/run. Let’s call it Jogger’s street . So once I reached at the Jogger’s street, my heart again started pushing me for “The Run”. But still I was not quite comfortable. I don’t know, but I just could not start it.
While I was tossing and turning between my brain and heart, a boy came from one of those side lanes, went to the road-side temple, took a bow and then started RUNNING, just like that. It was so easy for him… he just ran and I kept on looking at the merrily running figure getting smaller and smaller with every passing second and finally disappearing from my sight. It was so pleasurable (but I was jealous of him too) to watch him run like that. My heart started pushing me harder and with each of its beats, I could hear one thing “NOW OR NEVER”. I looked back; there was nobody… that means it’s safe to start running without anybody seeing me. But my legs were not permitting me to take the leap as my brain had enslaved them. My brain was still busy calculating how many times I can actually bounce up and down with this heavy body. I was becoming more and more restless.
I don’t know how much time passed by before I realized that there was wind on face and I was speeding past few people walking on the road… Yes, I was running… my heart beat increased and with that increased my speed. Well, it did not last for more than 2 minutes; but what matters is that, I finally RAN and that made my whole day, as I said,
I wish I could run,
At-least for a while,
If not a mile… 
