These days kids are born deprived of certain things and I feel sad for that reason. It is not money I’m talking about, not education or rights or any such materialistic or a philosophical thing even. I cant place a word to describe or “synonymize” such “things”. Let me start my trying to explain with certain examples.
When we were born, we were born into this textual world. I hadn’t seen a computer until I was 9 years old. When I saw one, I fell in absolute love with it. It had a huge fat screen with huge letters on them and a huge square cursor blipping away. Some of them were orange some were green depending on the fluorescent screen. The fat monitor rested on a chunky box with a huge 5 inch floppy drive with a lever attached to it. A keyboard that would go “chik-chik” “click-cluck” when pressed. It was a beautiful thing. I loved the “C:>” prompt. We used to type “logo” at it and a nice turtle would draw shapes for us. It was wonderful. Then we would be allowed to play a few games sometimes. Some of them were Ripper, Paratrooper, Gobman. We used to work hard at them to get the highest scores and put our names into the “Hall of Fame”.
As we grew up we saw the birth of the GUI! The replacement of the 5 inch floppy with the 3 1/4th inch floppy with a high density capacity of 1.44 MBs! WOW! Prince of Persia was a game in colour! I hadn’t played it until I was 14 when I got my Pentium 1 PC with 16 MBs of RAM and a SVGA monitor. Windows 95 was amazing and I played Doom 2, Wolfenstein, Blood. Then the true 3D games came and I played Quake 3, Unreal Tournament and everything. The coming of the CD-ROM was the best. The quality of the movies were so much better than seeing them on the VCR. The games got bigger, the softwares got bigger. The HDDs went from MBs to GBs and then to the higher GBs. It truly was a steady meditative path to Nirvana.
The DVD came and went, the LCD came and went, broadband came, P2P came, the torrent came, DIVX came. The battle of formats ensued. Sony fought for Blu-ray, Microsoft fought for HD. Blu-ray won. Cinemax brought us the 3D experience. Now stereoscopy is coming to the homes. HDMI 1.3 came. The games got bigger, and the huge forbidden gap between reality and side scrolling games got so thin that reality got less real than the games. The war between NVidia and ATI rages on. The war between PS3 and XBOX rages on.
My kids will be born in a HD ready, 3D ready, High Def LED world of surround sound and special effects and without sprites. My kids will be born in a world of games where there are no high scores to compete for, instead they have to avenge a friend or hunt mercenaries armed with the goriest of weaponry and the attitude of John McClain or Rambo. They don’t need to compete with friends for a high score, they compete against their friends on a LAN armed with a Kalashnikov. That is bad news. Blood splatter technology, Ragdoll technology, collision and particle system, pixel shader, vertex shader and all these things, I believe are an adult person’s bag of toys.
Give the kids some nice old 2D cartoons. And, what the fuck is Ben10 about?? Even pokemon and digimon sound better than that. Give them some nice side scrolling game with a highscore (and not on a phone!) with something to learn. Let them discover their own world, it’s a lot better appreciated that way. Let them not be deprived of the amazement of the wonders of technology.
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Kalcutta
These are the days I covet when I am in Pune. Yes, these are the days...
Everyday I wake up to the smell of hot tea lovingly made by my mother. I leave the pillow moist from the sweat overnight. The familiar sounds of the steam from the cooker, the sizzle from the frying pan, the incessant clanging noise of the maid's dish washing; the shower from the bathroom. It's busy in the morning with dad getting ready. Been seeing this happen since my birth. Hence, I like it.
I still call my city Calcutta, and Calcutta my city. I was born in Calcutta, not Kolkata for Christ's sake. So what if this city is one of the most polluted cities in the world. So what if sixty percent of the people are below the poverty line. So what if the roads have potholes, and the Government a lousy cesspool of corruption and sloth. This city is called the City of Joy, City of Palaces. Must be a reason for it.
The reason for it wasn't clear to me until I went off to Pune. Calcutta gives more than it takes from the people She harbors. Calcutta has given me a place on Earth that I am familiar with. This is the place for my tribe. I relate to everybody here. We all talk the same language, we all eat the same food. We all have similar trends and tastes. Calcutta as the whole, the people, the buildings, the roads, all have one big common soul.
Every soul has a song written for it. The song makes the soul. This is not a song easy to hear. It can't be strummed on the guitar and sung. If the song ends the soul will die. We all hear that song, but we never pay attention to it. The song plays on, and nobody hears. That's what makes me sad. We are all so busy that we don't have time to listen to the song. For once make yourself free. Free your mind of work, appointments, schedule, worry or any ideas.
Good, now go to a random place in Calcutta. Stand there and look around you. Feel the harmony, the beat; and it will pulse through you and fill you. The car horns, the traffic, the roadside junk food stalls, the incessant cries of the bus conductors, the lights, the sounds, the bustling pedestrians. The crowd on the bus, the lichen growing on the surface of the old buildings. An occasional beggar and the hunger in his eyes. The market places with all the mediocre vegetables and fish and the fat ladies and gents screaming out their bargains through the puddles of mud. Look at the occassional particles of glass strewn on the roads from the shattered windscreens of cars. Feel the heat, the sweat, feel the need to get into a shade. Look at the Government Office Buildings. Red bricked, ages old. High ceilinged, age old fans, light blue limed walls, stacked with millions of yellow papers and files, the bustle, the tea in the glass cups, listen to the typewriters going on. Get to the ghat. The river, the grass, the city on the other side. The fish boats, the calm. Look at the elegant Victoria Memorial with the green grass and the lovers at peace and privacy. Then the rain splashes. The black umbrellas, the drizzle, the damp in the crowded bus and a muddy feet on your's, crushing it. The rain fills the city with puddles and a car speeds through it, splashes the water on you. It will pulse through you and fill you with happiness. I love that song.
I heard the song a long time ago. I need some time off to go listen to it. I am busy here with a project that hates to proceed. All these ado, not about nothing I guess. All these I have to do to join in into the rat race. I have to acquire a social standing in my life to have a fruitful life, and a family and a progeny. Everybody crave this stereotypical scenerio. If it requires of me to skip country, I will. I am working to that end. In the end, I know, I will be beckoned by the song. I will add some notes to it.
Everyday I wake up to the smell of hot tea lovingly made by my mother. I leave the pillow moist from the sweat overnight. The familiar sounds of the steam from the cooker, the sizzle from the frying pan, the incessant clanging noise of the maid's dish washing; the shower from the bathroom. It's busy in the morning with dad getting ready. Been seeing this happen since my birth. Hence, I like it.
I still call my city Calcutta, and Calcutta my city. I was born in Calcutta, not Kolkata for Christ's sake. So what if this city is one of the most polluted cities in the world. So what if sixty percent of the people are below the poverty line. So what if the roads have potholes, and the Government a lousy cesspool of corruption and sloth. This city is called the City of Joy, City of Palaces. Must be a reason for it.
The reason for it wasn't clear to me until I went off to Pune. Calcutta gives more than it takes from the people She harbors. Calcutta has given me a place on Earth that I am familiar with. This is the place for my tribe. I relate to everybody here. We all talk the same language, we all eat the same food. We all have similar trends and tastes. Calcutta as the whole, the people, the buildings, the roads, all have one big common soul.
Every soul has a song written for it. The song makes the soul. This is not a song easy to hear. It can't be strummed on the guitar and sung. If the song ends the soul will die. We all hear that song, but we never pay attention to it. The song plays on, and nobody hears. That's what makes me sad. We are all so busy that we don't have time to listen to the song. For once make yourself free. Free your mind of work, appointments, schedule, worry or any ideas.
Good, now go to a random place in Calcutta. Stand there and look around you. Feel the harmony, the beat; and it will pulse through you and fill you. The car horns, the traffic, the roadside junk food stalls, the incessant cries of the bus conductors, the lights, the sounds, the bustling pedestrians. The crowd on the bus, the lichen growing on the surface of the old buildings. An occasional beggar and the hunger in his eyes. The market places with all the mediocre vegetables and fish and the fat ladies and gents screaming out their bargains through the puddles of mud. Look at the occassional particles of glass strewn on the roads from the shattered windscreens of cars. Feel the heat, the sweat, feel the need to get into a shade. Look at the Government Office Buildings. Red bricked, ages old. High ceilinged, age old fans, light blue limed walls, stacked with millions of yellow papers and files, the bustle, the tea in the glass cups, listen to the typewriters going on. Get to the ghat. The river, the grass, the city on the other side. The fish boats, the calm. Look at the elegant Victoria Memorial with the green grass and the lovers at peace and privacy. Then the rain splashes. The black umbrellas, the drizzle, the damp in the crowded bus and a muddy feet on your's, crushing it. The rain fills the city with puddles and a car speeds through it, splashes the water on you. It will pulse through you and fill you with happiness. I love that song.
I heard the song a long time ago. I need some time off to go listen to it. I am busy here with a project that hates to proceed. All these ado, not about nothing I guess. All these I have to do to join in into the rat race. I have to acquire a social standing in my life to have a fruitful life, and a family and a progeny. Everybody crave this stereotypical scenerio. If it requires of me to skip country, I will. I am working to that end. In the end, I know, I will be beckoned by the song. I will add some notes to it.
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
Changed...
Truly been a long time since I last blogged. Today my 2nd Senester examinations got over and I have now some time and space to breathe. But again I got a helluva lot to pach into 2 small bags and get going for home. The day after tomorrow is the day that I shall board the train. Really stupendous. Going home for around TWO FRIGGIN MONTHS.
I hate packing. I always hated packing. Previously my mom used to pack for me. Well, no moms here. That makes me think ... how different I have become in the months I have been here. I used to be a completely different person once.
I was a cool guy, didn't care about anybody. I used to be a listener of rock, so as to say, and was very carefree. I'm still carefree, but in a very different way. I used to go out, have fun, drink, smoke, chat, play computer games and all. A lot of my things were done by other people. Bank work was often done by my dad or mom. Then cleaning up my room, washing my clothes, take care of my food (what I eat, when I eat, nutrition) were all taken care by my dear mom. I used to go to college by my dad's car, bunk classes there, go to Oly pub once in a while, enjoy drinking. I did shit in those days man. I was a crazy guy. At home I used to watch TV, listen to music, play computer games, pretend to study, write poetry. Man! Those really were the days.
Now, I feel different. I feel older. I feel more matured. The biggest difference now is that I have a someone, who is very special to me, for whom I patiently count the days. She has brought me happiness and hope during my days here in this city. Without her i would have gone nuts here. I wouldn't have been able to cope. Apart from her I have also grown into a different man. Previously I thought I would never be able to gel in with the people here. I have adjusted. I can now call them friends. Thats because I had to change; change so that I became like them. In what way? I'll describe them and you'll understand.
They are the kind of people I saw in Xavier's who do classes, do not drink, do not chill out in the usual sense of chilling out. They are the kind of public who have never been to Xavotsav. They have come from bengali medium-state board educated-mufassal board. They have terrible english grammar, enunciation and all. They crack stupid silly PJs and they laugh at it themselves.
I have not become that bad, come on! It's still just me. I have just become more accepting, tolerant and a lot of other similar words. I can now bend my 'self' more than I ever could. I can now play 29, yea. I dont play computer games, I listen to music a lot less, I dont play the guitar anymore (cuz i dont have one and even if I had, there is no one to appreciate the music).
I am still the same crazy guy.
I hate packing. I always hated packing. Previously my mom used to pack for me. Well, no moms here. That makes me think ... how different I have become in the months I have been here. I used to be a completely different person once.
I was a cool guy, didn't care about anybody. I used to be a listener of rock, so as to say, and was very carefree. I'm still carefree, but in a very different way. I used to go out, have fun, drink, smoke, chat, play computer games and all. A lot of my things were done by other people. Bank work was often done by my dad or mom. Then cleaning up my room, washing my clothes, take care of my food (what I eat, when I eat, nutrition) were all taken care by my dear mom. I used to go to college by my dad's car, bunk classes there, go to Oly pub once in a while, enjoy drinking. I did shit in those days man. I was a crazy guy. At home I used to watch TV, listen to music, play computer games, pretend to study, write poetry. Man! Those really were the days.
Now, I feel different. I feel older. I feel more matured. The biggest difference now is that I have a someone, who is very special to me, for whom I patiently count the days. She has brought me happiness and hope during my days here in this city. Without her i would have gone nuts here. I wouldn't have been able to cope. Apart from her I have also grown into a different man. Previously I thought I would never be able to gel in with the people here. I have adjusted. I can now call them friends. Thats because I had to change; change so that I became like them. In what way? I'll describe them and you'll understand.
They are the kind of people I saw in Xavier's who do classes, do not drink, do not chill out in the usual sense of chilling out. They are the kind of public who have never been to Xavotsav. They have come from bengali medium-state board educated-mufassal board. They have terrible english grammar, enunciation and all. They crack stupid silly PJs and they laugh at it themselves.
I have not become that bad, come on! It's still just me. I have just become more accepting, tolerant and a lot of other similar words. I can now bend my 'self' more than I ever could. I can now play 29, yea. I dont play computer games, I listen to music a lot less, I dont play the guitar anymore (cuz i dont have one and even if I had, there is no one to appreciate the music).
I am still the same crazy guy.
Friday, November 16, 2007
Dhekoon Day
I am writing after a pretty long time. That is because all these days have been very very monotonous. It was today that was quite eventful. Yesterday I discovered that my room was an infestation of bedbugs. I was a very sorry sight. In the corners of my steel bed were patches of large bedbugs and very icky egg-farms. So today I decided that I must do something about it. Pretty soon many others realized that they had infestations too. Well, people I know in Kolkata don’t even know what bedbugs are. I found out what they are yesterday.
I woke up in the early morning at around 10:30 am. Took the mattress, quilt and pillow off my bed and took them up to the roof under the sun. I took the steel bed (I don’t know how old it was anyway) outside the hostel and threw it under the sun. Since the bed was old, as I mentioned earlier, within braces, one of the legs of the bed broke; well, it nearly broke. I came back to the room, sweep the whole floor clean with a broom (I hadn’t done it in a long time. I got out around a kilogram of dust. Then I poured a mixture of very hot water, kerosene and phenyl all over the floor and brushed the whole floor clean. Left the room o dry under the fan.
I went out, poured nearly boiling hot water into the nooks and corners of the bed outside and left it to dry. I need to justify my actions here. Bedbugs, commonly known as charpoka by Bengalis, and known as ‘dhekoon’ by the locals here, don’t feed on anything but blood. So they don’t intake poisons. So poisons are pretty ineffective. They only die with DDT(Dinitro Diphenyl Trinitro Ethane), but that’s illegal now. They die in hot water and run away from the sunlight. Hence my actions today.
After all this hassle I took a very cleansing cold water bath and fed myself well. Then I came back, studied some, went for tea, chatted for a bit like any other day. By now the sun was going down. I got my bed inside, got the mattress, pillow and quilt from the roof and got my bed ready and fit for a king. You must remember I said that one of the legs of the bed was broken. Well, the king sat on the bed and within a split second and the bed went down like a lead zeppelin. Now, the king is down on the ground.
I freed the bed of all dhekoon, but now it’s broken and I have to replace it. All this hassle for nothing. Shit! Big Shit! I’ll have to apply for a new bed now, and maybe I’ll have to free that one of dhekoon too. Well, I guess it’s just me and my shitty luck.
I woke up in the early morning at around 10:30 am. Took the mattress, quilt and pillow off my bed and took them up to the roof under the sun. I took the steel bed (I don’t know how old it was anyway) outside the hostel and threw it under the sun. Since the bed was old, as I mentioned earlier, within braces, one of the legs of the bed broke; well, it nearly broke. I came back to the room, sweep the whole floor clean with a broom (I hadn’t done it in a long time. I got out around a kilogram of dust. Then I poured a mixture of very hot water, kerosene and phenyl all over the floor and brushed the whole floor clean. Left the room o dry under the fan.
I went out, poured nearly boiling hot water into the nooks and corners of the bed outside and left it to dry. I need to justify my actions here. Bedbugs, commonly known as charpoka by Bengalis, and known as ‘dhekoon’ by the locals here, don’t feed on anything but blood. So they don’t intake poisons. So poisons are pretty ineffective. They only die with DDT(Dinitro Diphenyl Trinitro Ethane), but that’s illegal now. They die in hot water and run away from the sunlight. Hence my actions today.
After all this hassle I took a very cleansing cold water bath and fed myself well. Then I came back, studied some, went for tea, chatted for a bit like any other day. By now the sun was going down. I got my bed inside, got the mattress, pillow and quilt from the roof and got my bed ready and fit for a king. You must remember I said that one of the legs of the bed was broken. Well, the king sat on the bed and within a split second and the bed went down like a lead zeppelin. Now, the king is down on the ground.
I freed the bed of all dhekoon, but now it’s broken and I have to replace it. All this hassle for nothing. Shit! Big Shit! I’ll have to apply for a new bed now, and maybe I’ll have to free that one of dhekoon too. Well, I guess it’s just me and my shitty luck.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
It’s been two months now I’ve been in this shit place. When I say shit place, I mean Pune. Something bad is happening to me. I have become too familiar with the locality I live in. Like, back home, the road in front of my home was so familiar, like a vivid picture in my mind. Those pictures were so natural, they were like a crystal clear projection in my mind.
Now, those pictures have been replaced by pictures of this place, the place in front of the main gate, the road leading to my department. These days I don’t even think about Kolkata. I don’t think about Ruby, Gariahat, Park Street or College Street. They are like lost memories now. Shit! I don’t want this to happen. I would like it a lot if forever this place feels alien to me. I don’t ever want this place to feel familiar, I don’t want to call this place home.
Now, those pictures have been replaced by pictures of this place, the place in front of the main gate, the road leading to my department. These days I don’t even think about Kolkata. I don’t think about Ruby, Gariahat, Park Street or College Street. They are like lost memories now. Shit! I don’t want this to happen. I would like it a lot if forever this place feels alien to me. I don’t ever want this place to feel familiar, I don’t want to call this place home.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
My life here is pretty crummy. I hate this place. I really cannot stress enough how bad I hate this place. I have friends here but I don’t let them come close to me. I do not get attached to them. Anyways, I am a little sick today. No, nothing serious, just a little cold and body aches, a running nose and complete lethargy. I want to be home. I want my mother. She used to always take care of me. I love my mommy. I love home. I love Kolkata.
I didn’t go to college today because of that. My love called me a lot of times today but because of my sickness, I wasn’t feeling like talking all that much. I felt very bad about that. Then she prescribed a medicine for me, I went and got that. It worked like magic. The body ache was gone, I felt warm again. I felt a lot better. Thanks to her. I love her a lot. I am looking forward to us being togther.
This blog may start speaking more about her, I apologize to the others, but she is a big part of my life now, probably the biggest. Lets start with how it all started.
Rini, one of my cousins, thinks I am a very witty person with an awesome sense of humour. Dammy was her friend and Rini used to tell her stuff about me. She also told me about this friend of hers, Dammy. She made me a bit curious and a bit interested to find out what this friend was like. I added her on Orkut as a friend. Then we started chatting. Eventually I got her number and started calling her. She used to call me too. I found her to be an overfriendly person who spoke too much. At first I didn’t think much of her. Then this chatting and calling continued for quite some time. Then came a day in May, 2007 when we both wanted to meet each other. My cousins, a few of their friends and she came over to City Centre to meet me. We had a nice time. Then she wanted to meet me again, alone. I didn’t quite want to meet her alone, but I liked her company. She was interesting company. I met up with her along with my cousins at Golpark CCD. That was a nice day too.
It had been quite some time and I had started liking her better and considered her an important person. I liked her enough to want to go out with her, and I cared enough to really make the date a memorable one. July 1st was the day. Odeon was going on in Kolkata, a theatre festival. I got tickets to it and the day was a really good one. We had a very nice time together. After this day I got attached to her and considered her a very important friend. Another day, she went to her dental appointment alone. I met up with her that day. The next day again all of us met up and then it was time for me to leave for Pune.
While I was in the car driving to the station, I was feeling real sad. The reason for such depression was her. I started realizing how much I would be missing her. She had become an integral part of my “thoughts”. I went to Pune and I called her for an hour. I don’t know why, but I used to keep on telling myself that there would be a lot other girls in my life. Soon days went and not a day went that we didn’t talk over the phone. I became very attached to her but I couldn’t tell her. It was way too soon. It was a slow and beautiful process of discovering her. We had planned ahead that on 23rd of December we would have a date. Then came day before yesterday, 23rd September, when I gave her the poem which I had written specially for her. She liked it. And that was it; the beginning of a fairy tale…
I didn’t go to college today because of that. My love called me a lot of times today but because of my sickness, I wasn’t feeling like talking all that much. I felt very bad about that. Then she prescribed a medicine for me, I went and got that. It worked like magic. The body ache was gone, I felt warm again. I felt a lot better. Thanks to her. I love her a lot. I am looking forward to us being togther.
This blog may start speaking more about her, I apologize to the others, but she is a big part of my life now, probably the biggest. Lets start with how it all started.
Rini, one of my cousins, thinks I am a very witty person with an awesome sense of humour. Dammy was her friend and Rini used to tell her stuff about me. She also told me about this friend of hers, Dammy. She made me a bit curious and a bit interested to find out what this friend was like. I added her on Orkut as a friend. Then we started chatting. Eventually I got her number and started calling her. She used to call me too. I found her to be an overfriendly person who spoke too much. At first I didn’t think much of her. Then this chatting and calling continued for quite some time. Then came a day in May, 2007 when we both wanted to meet each other. My cousins, a few of their friends and she came over to City Centre to meet me. We had a nice time. Then she wanted to meet me again, alone. I didn’t quite want to meet her alone, but I liked her company. She was interesting company. I met up with her along with my cousins at Golpark CCD. That was a nice day too.
It had been quite some time and I had started liking her better and considered her an important person. I liked her enough to want to go out with her, and I cared enough to really make the date a memorable one. July 1st was the day. Odeon was going on in Kolkata, a theatre festival. I got tickets to it and the day was a really good one. We had a very nice time together. After this day I got attached to her and considered her a very important friend. Another day, she went to her dental appointment alone. I met up with her that day. The next day again all of us met up and then it was time for me to leave for Pune.
While I was in the car driving to the station, I was feeling real sad. The reason for such depression was her. I started realizing how much I would be missing her. She had become an integral part of my “thoughts”. I went to Pune and I called her for an hour. I don’t know why, but I used to keep on telling myself that there would be a lot other girls in my life. Soon days went and not a day went that we didn’t talk over the phone. I became very attached to her but I couldn’t tell her. It was way too soon. It was a slow and beautiful process of discovering her. We had planned ahead that on 23rd of December we would have a date. Then came day before yesterday, 23rd September, when I gave her the poem which I had written specially for her. She liked it. And that was it; the beginning of a fairy tale…
Pune is technologically more advanced than Kolkata. When you get on to a bus the conductor is not the same sight as that in Kolkata. The conductor is a khaki uniformed man who looks well educated. They can speak Hindi, Marathi and English properly. They do not go about with the familiar leather bag that conductors do back home with bunches of ticket and notes in the same hand. They have a small computer hanging down their chest that has a tiny printer attached to it. When you tell them your destination they type something into it that goes, “bip bip bloop bloop, keeech keeech”. Then they hand over the printed ticket to you.
There is a famous sweet shop here; I forgot the name. When you get into the shop, a man hands you a card, that is a magnetic swipe card. You go to the individual exhibits choose your sweets, they pack it for you, they swipe the card in a computer and the bill is updated. You go on buying and the same thing happens. When you leave you have to leave through the cash counter, the man reswipes your card and gives you the bill. Then you walk out. Now, that’s a hi-fi way of buying sweets. Here you must try out Shrikhand and Bhakarwada. Awesome awesome.
This place is not all that bad, but Kolkata is HOME. Wherever I go, I’ll finally return back here. That is where my heart lies, that is where my soul lies, that is where my mind lies. I’ll always return.
Yesterday, 23rd September was a milestone in my life. I have had quite a few memorable milestones in my life, but yesterday it was a turning point in my life. I don’t know how to say it but, now I have someone to look up to who is not one of my parents. I have someone who trusts me and believes me, and I will feel proud to keep that trust. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me and I feel optimistic that we will last for a long long time. I mean LONG…
This blog is restricted to a very select few people. They all know who I am talking about but they must know something else. This change in my life will affect their lives as well, everything won’t be the same, but they must also know that it does not reduce my love and respect for them.
There is a famous sweet shop here; I forgot the name. When you get into the shop, a man hands you a card, that is a magnetic swipe card. You go to the individual exhibits choose your sweets, they pack it for you, they swipe the card in a computer and the bill is updated. You go on buying and the same thing happens. When you leave you have to leave through the cash counter, the man reswipes your card and gives you the bill. Then you walk out. Now, that’s a hi-fi way of buying sweets. Here you must try out Shrikhand and Bhakarwada. Awesome awesome.
This place is not all that bad, but Kolkata is HOME. Wherever I go, I’ll finally return back here. That is where my heart lies, that is where my soul lies, that is where my mind lies. I’ll always return.
Yesterday, 23rd September was a milestone in my life. I have had quite a few memorable milestones in my life, but yesterday it was a turning point in my life. I don’t know how to say it but, now I have someone to look up to who is not one of my parents. I have someone who trusts me and believes me, and I will feel proud to keep that trust. She is the best thing that has ever happened to me and I feel optimistic that we will last for a long long time. I mean LONG…
This blog is restricted to a very select few people. They all know who I am talking about but they must know something else. This change in my life will affect their lives as well, everything won’t be the same, but they must also know that it does not reduce my love and respect for them.
Saturday, September 22, 2007
God said, “Let there be light.” And there was light. Then he made everything else and then just so that he could have some fun at my expense he said, “Let there be dirt.” I believe that when he created dirt, filth, grease and sweat he was thinking of me. He put me in Pune in this shit place that some people call hostel 3. Had there been no dirt and filth I would not have needed to bathe. I wouldn’t even have to feel so icky before going to the bathroom. The very thought of the dirty bathroom prevents me to take a bath resulting in getting dirtier myself. If I put it in other words then I really compete with the bathroom to see which one can get dirtier…
My days here are going on pretty monotonously. Sometimes life becomes a baritone but that is still a monotone. Like, a few days back I went back to Kolkata for just four days. I went there so that my dad’s expenses are reduced. I went flying and I returned flying, by Kingfisher Airlines. How did I save expenses? My family wanted to come over to Pune during the Pujas. Told them not to miss the pujas and hence I went. I got my laptop from Kolkata. It’s a chic little thing. I get to listen to music now. Before that I used to feel smothered here.
I cannot stress enough how bored I was the first one and a half months. Even then I was a really chilled out cool fellow. I didn’t give a damn about anybody, didn’t care what other people thought about me. The seniors liked me for that and a few of my peer advised me to study and not take things so lightly. One guy especially, gave me a long lecture trying to explain that we Bengali fellows are superior people here with superior intelligence. He said that even I should study and keep the good name of the Bengalis. I gave a damn. Then the exams came and till now we got only one paper evaluated and I got close to the top marks while that Bengali fellow got quite less. I was sadistic and he was really really sad. Over that he was pretty astonished at my performance.
One fne Sunday morning, I remember, a few of my friends and I went outside the University for breakfast. It was quite early in the morning around 9 am. After eating, we quite suddenly decided to check out the movie ‘Chak De India’. The rush of adrenaline made me quite excited about it and it made me forget about other things. You know, other things like what I was wearing then. I was wearing just a T-shirt and a pair of shorts…just a t-shirt and a pair of shorts……ONLY………In my defense, it gives me freedom of motion and also there is good ventilation. The movie was good.
When I was going back to kolkata last weekend, I had booked an auto-rickshaw to come over to the hostel in the early morning and take me to the airport. While I was on my way, I felt pretty blank. I wasn’t thinking about anything. I know I should have felt elated. Then when I reached kolkata I was blank yet again. I came out of the airport, I discovered that there is no Idea coverage in kolkata, so all my outgoing and incoming calls were barred. I got pissed off. Then I leave the airport to see there is no car waiting for me to receive me. I am furious! I find a public telephone booth, look into my wallet and I have fresh hundred buck notes and not a single coin. I am about to explode. I go to the nearest shop, I throw a hundred buck note at the face of the shopkeeper and with a voice fit for Frankenstein which I never knew my vocal cord could produce, I said, “Give me change and give me coins to call!” He did not utter a sound and complied. I called home and discovered my driver was busy sleeping in the car at the airport parking lot. I exploded full force on him. Poor guy…
When I reached home, I melted. Those few days cannot be forgotten. I was pampered. “What do you want to eat?” “I want to eat this” and “I want to eat that” was pretty much the sum of all conversations between me and my mother. Those golden days I spent with people who are very dear to me. I love them all.
There was this day I realized that I can be a good shayar. That day I went to one of the many canteens in this University with three guys who were all Marathi. Suddenly they started discussing how good and nutritious Marathi food is. I couldn’t stand it as I had already been tortured for over a month by Marathi food. I started telling them that Marathi food is all shit and that Bengali food is the best. Also that Bengalis are the foodies of India. They started bitching about Bengali food, even though they hadn’t ever eaten our food. They said only one thing, “Bengali khana nonveg ke ilava kuch hai kya?” It was then that I said something that flowed out. I didn’t need to think about it. I said,”Andhe kya jaane roshni kya hoti hai… andhe kya jaane roshni kya hoti hai, arre tum Marathi loge bhi kya jaane mas-machchi kya hoti hai.” I was awed at my own capability.
With that let me divulge certain things about Marathi people. They are, in a few words, what Bengalis are not. Bengalis have a set of priorities. Bengalis are ardent foodies. They love good food. They spend money for food. They love to eat and they love to invite people over for dinner. Bengali men feel proud if their wives are good cooks. For Bengalis everything comes next. They need money, house, clothes, car and all other things. But behind all that they have one thing in their subconscious; they want to eat comfortably. Marathis on the other hand have food as the last priority. They show off a lot. They want a house, car, clothes and everything. Then comes food in their priority list because they need the energy to be able to show off. Marathi women are another story. When on the road they go around like dacoits. They have a cloth covering the face with only the eyes exposed. They say it is a measure against the dust, pollution and the sun. Well, what would they do if they are made to go to Kolkata? There the sun is way fiercer, the dust clings to the body because of the sweat. The pollution is probably the highest in Kolkata. They would die.
I have often told people that if I ever marry, I will marry a Bengali girl. I never knew exactly why I said that. Here I know exactly why. Bengali girls have a sense of everything. They know how to dress, how to present themselves, and a lot other things. It is completely because of their food habits. They eat well. Hence they have good skin quality and they have a certain shine that is unique to Bengalis. It is here that I can often recognize correctly a Bengali girl, even without hearing her talk. The Marathi girls have no sense of style or presentation. There are two types of girls here. One type are the ones who are the homely sorts. They wear salwar-kameez or jeans and tops, you know, the normal womanly clothing. Over that they have their heads covered. Even if they wear sleeveless they have it on. What’s the bloody use? They other types are the rebels. They have tattoos almost everywhere. Arm, belly or even deep into the cleavage are where they have them, and they wear clothing to show off their tattoos. The tattoo is usually a scorpion. They have piercings too. But none of them have the quintessential feature, they glow, the shine. They are very, what should I say, “kaat kaat” is the word. Here I don’t even feel like checking out girls. But I’m not gay.
I often stay in my room alone. My room is quite small, and the good thing is that I live alone in it. There are two windows and the bed is kept just against the wall overlooked by the windows, a setup very much like the setup of my room back home in Kolkata. I used to sleep there with the windows on my left. At home the sun used to come in at a certain angle and then my mother used to wake me up. I never could wake up to the alarm. These days I sleep in my hostel room with the windows on my left. The sun comes into the room. That is when my sleep used to become light. I get a feeling that my mother will wake me up and then I will leave the bed. I wait, then after sometime I open my eyes and think I am in my room. It takes me some time to realize that I am in Pune. I feel very weird during that travel from Kolkata to Pune. It takes around one second to reach. I get very sad then. These days I sleep facing the other side so that the windows are on my right. That feeling comes lesser. I miss my home.
My days here are going on pretty monotonously. Sometimes life becomes a baritone but that is still a monotone. Like, a few days back I went back to Kolkata for just four days. I went there so that my dad’s expenses are reduced. I went flying and I returned flying, by Kingfisher Airlines. How did I save expenses? My family wanted to come over to Pune during the Pujas. Told them not to miss the pujas and hence I went. I got my laptop from Kolkata. It’s a chic little thing. I get to listen to music now. Before that I used to feel smothered here.
I cannot stress enough how bored I was the first one and a half months. Even then I was a really chilled out cool fellow. I didn’t give a damn about anybody, didn’t care what other people thought about me. The seniors liked me for that and a few of my peer advised me to study and not take things so lightly. One guy especially, gave me a long lecture trying to explain that we Bengali fellows are superior people here with superior intelligence. He said that even I should study and keep the good name of the Bengalis. I gave a damn. Then the exams came and till now we got only one paper evaluated and I got close to the top marks while that Bengali fellow got quite less. I was sadistic and he was really really sad. Over that he was pretty astonished at my performance.
One fne Sunday morning, I remember, a few of my friends and I went outside the University for breakfast. It was quite early in the morning around 9 am. After eating, we quite suddenly decided to check out the movie ‘Chak De India’. The rush of adrenaline made me quite excited about it and it made me forget about other things. You know, other things like what I was wearing then. I was wearing just a T-shirt and a pair of shorts…just a t-shirt and a pair of shorts……ONLY………In my defense, it gives me freedom of motion and also there is good ventilation. The movie was good.
When I was going back to kolkata last weekend, I had booked an auto-rickshaw to come over to the hostel in the early morning and take me to the airport. While I was on my way, I felt pretty blank. I wasn’t thinking about anything. I know I should have felt elated. Then when I reached kolkata I was blank yet again. I came out of the airport, I discovered that there is no Idea coverage in kolkata, so all my outgoing and incoming calls were barred. I got pissed off. Then I leave the airport to see there is no car waiting for me to receive me. I am furious! I find a public telephone booth, look into my wallet and I have fresh hundred buck notes and not a single coin. I am about to explode. I go to the nearest shop, I throw a hundred buck note at the face of the shopkeeper and with a voice fit for Frankenstein which I never knew my vocal cord could produce, I said, “Give me change and give me coins to call!” He did not utter a sound and complied. I called home and discovered my driver was busy sleeping in the car at the airport parking lot. I exploded full force on him. Poor guy…
When I reached home, I melted. Those few days cannot be forgotten. I was pampered. “What do you want to eat?” “I want to eat this” and “I want to eat that” was pretty much the sum of all conversations between me and my mother. Those golden days I spent with people who are very dear to me. I love them all.
There was this day I realized that I can be a good shayar. That day I went to one of the many canteens in this University with three guys who were all Marathi. Suddenly they started discussing how good and nutritious Marathi food is. I couldn’t stand it as I had already been tortured for over a month by Marathi food. I started telling them that Marathi food is all shit and that Bengali food is the best. Also that Bengalis are the foodies of India. They started bitching about Bengali food, even though they hadn’t ever eaten our food. They said only one thing, “Bengali khana nonveg ke ilava kuch hai kya?” It was then that I said something that flowed out. I didn’t need to think about it. I said,”Andhe kya jaane roshni kya hoti hai… andhe kya jaane roshni kya hoti hai, arre tum Marathi loge bhi kya jaane mas-machchi kya hoti hai.” I was awed at my own capability.
With that let me divulge certain things about Marathi people. They are, in a few words, what Bengalis are not. Bengalis have a set of priorities. Bengalis are ardent foodies. They love good food. They spend money for food. They love to eat and they love to invite people over for dinner. Bengali men feel proud if their wives are good cooks. For Bengalis everything comes next. They need money, house, clothes, car and all other things. But behind all that they have one thing in their subconscious; they want to eat comfortably. Marathis on the other hand have food as the last priority. They show off a lot. They want a house, car, clothes and everything. Then comes food in their priority list because they need the energy to be able to show off. Marathi women are another story. When on the road they go around like dacoits. They have a cloth covering the face with only the eyes exposed. They say it is a measure against the dust, pollution and the sun. Well, what would they do if they are made to go to Kolkata? There the sun is way fiercer, the dust clings to the body because of the sweat. The pollution is probably the highest in Kolkata. They would die.
I have often told people that if I ever marry, I will marry a Bengali girl. I never knew exactly why I said that. Here I know exactly why. Bengali girls have a sense of everything. They know how to dress, how to present themselves, and a lot other things. It is completely because of their food habits. They eat well. Hence they have good skin quality and they have a certain shine that is unique to Bengalis. It is here that I can often recognize correctly a Bengali girl, even without hearing her talk. The Marathi girls have no sense of style or presentation. There are two types of girls here. One type are the ones who are the homely sorts. They wear salwar-kameez or jeans and tops, you know, the normal womanly clothing. Over that they have their heads covered. Even if they wear sleeveless they have it on. What’s the bloody use? They other types are the rebels. They have tattoos almost everywhere. Arm, belly or even deep into the cleavage are where they have them, and they wear clothing to show off their tattoos. The tattoo is usually a scorpion. They have piercings too. But none of them have the quintessential feature, they glow, the shine. They are very, what should I say, “kaat kaat” is the word. Here I don’t even feel like checking out girls. But I’m not gay.
I often stay in my room alone. My room is quite small, and the good thing is that I live alone in it. There are two windows and the bed is kept just against the wall overlooked by the windows, a setup very much like the setup of my room back home in Kolkata. I used to sleep there with the windows on my left. At home the sun used to come in at a certain angle and then my mother used to wake me up. I never could wake up to the alarm. These days I sleep in my hostel room with the windows on my left. The sun comes into the room. That is when my sleep used to become light. I get a feeling that my mother will wake me up and then I will leave the bed. I wait, then after sometime I open my eyes and think I am in my room. It takes me some time to realize that I am in Pune. I feel very weird during that travel from Kolkata to Pune. It takes around one second to reach. I get very sad then. These days I sleep facing the other side so that the windows are on my right. That feeling comes lesser. I miss my home.
Friday, July 20, 2007
Things To Do There...
Once I reach there, need to do a few things...
1) Get a hostel room
2) Create a bank account, link it to my dad's account so I can get the money he sends me
3) Get a new cell number there and tell all my people about it.
4) Order a new pair of spectacles, ya I got glasses. One step closer to a geek.
5) Exercise
6) Study
7) Make friends
8) Wash clothes
9) Listen to rock music
10)Remeber all my people
1) Get a hostel room
2) Create a bank account, link it to my dad's account so I can get the money he sends me
3) Get a new cell number there and tell all my people about it.
4) Order a new pair of spectacles, ya I got glasses. One step closer to a geek.
5) Exercise
6) Study
7) Make friends
8) Wash clothes
9) Listen to rock music
10)Remeber all my people
Last night in Cal
So what I've been in Calcutta all my life till this day? Yes I love this city. I have everything here, everybody here, everything that matters, everything I dislike. For me Calcutta is the world. It has been good to me.
Tonight is my last night in Calcutta. I'm going to Pune. I got admitted to the MSc course in Physics at the University Of Pune. I'm going tomorrow. I still have some packing left. Really it is y mom who's doing all the packing for me. I depend on her.
Yes, I have been a parent's son all my life, and I liked it. They helped me to do everything till today. Helped me make bank accounts, helped me go places. What I am now I because of them. But from tomorrow it is a completely different thing. I'm on my own from now. I gotta life at a hostel which I have never done before. I will have to wash all my clothes including my undies. I have never done them before. I have to take care of myself and my health. My mom used to make me eat a balanced diet, she used to force me to take fruits for the vitamins. Now I'll have to choose my own food. I assume I'll become an independant MAN there. So, what I will be in future will be because of me.
Since I have to go tomorrow, I should be feeling sad. Weirdly I dont feel anything. It feels like the most normal thing to do. I'll go there, make something out of my life, go further and further, make my ambitions materialise. Does sound like a normal thing to do. Fair enough. But then again, would I say not having any feelings means it feels normal? Not having any feelings could mean I feel numb. It could be like there is no turning back now. I will have to be a slave to all emotions and leave, even if I cry. It's like a jungle of mixed feelings that render nothingness in the end.
It's late at night, 1:04 AM. I was just smsing this very sweet friend of mine telling her I would probably miss her the most. Of all the people I know, I know her for the shortest time. Last few days spoke to her a lot - 2.5 hours, 3.5 hours (on the phone), chatted over GTalk for hours. I hurt her, made up with her. Now will miss her. The first person I speak about in this blog is her. That does make her special, but it's also that I'm still communicating with her via "mc's".
Went for a leak...checked the mirror...I got very red eyes. NO i've not been crying, I said I was feeling normal. I am very sleepy. Good night. Bye Bye Calcutta...
Tonight is my last night in Calcutta. I'm going to Pune. I got admitted to the MSc course in Physics at the University Of Pune. I'm going tomorrow. I still have some packing left. Really it is y mom who's doing all the packing for me. I depend on her.
Yes, I have been a parent's son all my life, and I liked it. They helped me to do everything till today. Helped me make bank accounts, helped me go places. What I am now I because of them. But from tomorrow it is a completely different thing. I'm on my own from now. I gotta life at a hostel which I have never done before. I will have to wash all my clothes including my undies. I have never done them before. I have to take care of myself and my health. My mom used to make me eat a balanced diet, she used to force me to take fruits for the vitamins. Now I'll have to choose my own food. I assume I'll become an independant MAN there. So, what I will be in future will be because of me.
Since I have to go tomorrow, I should be feeling sad. Weirdly I dont feel anything. It feels like the most normal thing to do. I'll go there, make something out of my life, go further and further, make my ambitions materialise. Does sound like a normal thing to do. Fair enough. But then again, would I say not having any feelings means it feels normal? Not having any feelings could mean I feel numb. It could be like there is no turning back now. I will have to be a slave to all emotions and leave, even if I cry. It's like a jungle of mixed feelings that render nothingness in the end.
It's late at night, 1:04 AM. I was just smsing this very sweet friend of mine telling her I would probably miss her the most. Of all the people I know, I know her for the shortest time. Last few days spoke to her a lot - 2.5 hours, 3.5 hours (on the phone), chatted over GTalk for hours. I hurt her, made up with her. Now will miss her. The first person I speak about in this blog is her. That does make her special, but it's also that I'm still communicating with her via "mc's".
Went for a leak...checked the mirror...I got very red eyes. NO i've not been crying, I said I was feeling normal. I am very sleepy. Good night. Bye Bye Calcutta...
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