Black and White

I woke up early today….. but, what a pity!!! It was a day, completely devoid of colors.  Yes! All black and white………..like a checkerboard.  The feeling was as if I was hit by a speeding train…Head on.

 

Was it just me? I wondered. Or was it everyone else, as well, who was experiencing this? I was not colorblind, not that I was aware of, and not to this extent, anyway.  Then, what was it?

I lived alone - a recent victim of global commercialization- single, a new recruit in a new city, with practically no friends, and obviously, no friendly neighbor either.  It had just been a month since I had come to this city. And now even the colors seemed to have abandoned me. The reds, greens, violets and blues, seemed to have revolted.

My chores done, I dressed myself up for another hard day at work. As I stepped outside my flat, I was still dazed. What did I see all around me? There must be something wrong with me. This must be some medical condition I was suffering from. I will definitely visit a doctor today, I vowed. Was it for real? I could not ask a passerby, for fear of being branded, ‘crazy’, or being laughed at. I realized the full impact of the situation.

Everything was in shades of black and white. The sky was overcast. The greens around me had turned grey. The birds which engaged in their routine cacophony were all blanched. So very gloomy was the scene that I felt lost even amidst an otherwise romantic weather, sprinkled with a light drizzle. Oh wait! When was the last time I had experienced ‘romance’? I do not remember. Not, with all the work around me, and this new job, which was already extracting the last ounce of ‘life’ from me?

As I stood in front of my flat, I was petrified. Were the hues lost forever? What will happen now? Will I never witness the glistening cyan of a peacock’s neck again? Was the pink sunset gone for good? Will the carnations, the violets and the roses never return to their colorful selves? What will the poet’s pen be inspired by?

What will happen to the painter’s easel? Is it of no use anymore? Will the oranges be ‘orange’ no more? Will the apples be a mere darker shade of grey? Will the rainbow never appear again? Most importantly, was this happening to me alone, or were the others around me in a blanched world too?

Suddenly, a car drove up in front of me, and the windows rolled down. It was my boss, who was beaming.

“Hi Tamara”, he said.

“Hi Sir.”

“Did you see what happened? Isn’t it amazing?”

“Sir ! do you mean, I am not the only one who cannot see the colors this morning?”

“Oh ! Yes, Tamara. Haven’t you watched the morning news today?"

“I haven’t had the time to buy a TV yet, sir. It’s just been a month since I have been here. I am sure you understand.”

“Oh well, then get in the car, I am sure you’re confused, and a ride to the office won’t harm you.”

I was stunned. He was definitely happy today. Quite unlike his usual bitter self.

I got in the car, beside my boss, as he drove up the road towards our office.

“So, what is this all about, Sir? Is it a conspiracy?”

“It is a compromise, young lady.”

“A compromise?”

“Yes, young lady. The world leaders along with the leading corporate honchos, entrepreneurs and eminent scientists of the world have decided to make the world completely colorless. Today is the first day of their experiment, and in the subsequent days, we will see a world totally blanched of color.”

“What !!! What do you mean, Sir?”

“Yes, Tamara. The world will go black and white. It already has.”

“But why???”

“Well…because, it is necessary to strengthen the world economy. Do you have any idea about the money and time that we waste on colors, or because of colors? What’s the golden rule of any stable economy or for that matter the corporate world? “Profit” is the magic word, Tamara. And, the world has decided to do away with whatever is not directly related to ‘profit’. To put it simply, ‘Whatever does not rake in money for the enterprise, has to go. Color is not necessary anymore. So, we simply have to bid it goodbye.”

“But, this is not an explanation. What about art? What about beauty? What is a world without colors anyway?"

“It is all about optimization. No color means, less wastage of time on meaningless TV shows on color TVs, and little involvement on the internet, which leads to higher productivity. Besides, now people don’t have to spend hours deciding which color looks good on them, when it comes to clothing. No color means less investment on paints. Also, a colorless world means an end to racism.”

“But, racism is about a state of mind, Sir. It can exist even without colors. This is no excuse for draining out all colors from the world!!!”

“Hahaha!!! Tamara, you’re still young. Wait till you get into the grind. There is no place for anything that isn’t immediately profitable, and color is not. It is as simple, as that.”

“But, Sir, color is necessary for life, and there is a life beyond ‘profit’. What about the movies, the scores of symbolism which depend on color? What about the blue skies which will never welcome us again, and the green forests where we will never find peace again? This is not just highly selfish but a self destructive proposition, altogether. I mean, how could this be?”  I hollered at the top of my lungs, and as I did so, I felt someone jerking me. 

As I woke up with a start, I realized it was my colleague, Sandra, who was sitting beside me. We were in the last row, amidst a very crucial seminar on ‘World economy and its effects’, which was being attended by all employees and the senior-most authorities of our enterprise.  Sandra smiled at me sheepishly. “Dozed off eh? What a boring seminar! I’m sure you’re overworked…” , she whispered. Embarrassed and still trying to gauge what was happening around me, I excused myself and made my way to the ladies’ restroom.

As I stood there washing my face, completely dumbfounded, by the sheer absurdity of my dream, something struck me.  I realized, I was overworked, indeed. The black and white collage of my dream - the eerie morning and the colorless world was gone, but had left its footprints in the sands of my mind and my soul. I decided, I needed a break from this monotony and needed to get back to my world of colors. I decided to be free.

It's raining...

It's raining...

The raindrops are so cold...

It's raining...

Bringing joy to the young and old...

It's raining...

After such a long, long time...

It's raining...

And making me sing with joy and chime...

It's raining...

Making me feel ... Oh! so whole !!!

It's raining...

And it's really cleansing my soul...

It's raining...

Making me feel so alive again !!!

It's raining...

Making me forget my strife and pain...

It's raining...

And soaking the whole town through!!!

It's raining...

And making us all feel new !!!

Moments

When the early morning sunshine glides through the window,

brightening the rheumy world,

enlivening the soul,

and painting it with its kaleidoscopic hues.....

When the sudden evening shower smudges the beauty of the sensual, luscious dusk

adorned by street-lights...

dim , beside her magnetic self.....

When the intoxicating smell of sodden earth mingles with the aroma of caffeine,

and the magic fuses with the harmony of 'pitter patter' on the roof...

When the subtle breeze hugs me,

arousing me with its tender touch and light kisses all over,

caressing me like an amorous lover...

When the misty and wintry dawn,

captures the bliss of life in its sweet breath...

When the impenetrable greens of the woods,

come alive with the chiming chirps of birds...

When the fluttering butterflies,

emanate their enigmatic charm, their essence and energy,

lifting the spirits of one and all.....

It is then, that I feel, moments make life....

A series of pulsating, throbbing moments.........

The frayed old note

The frayed old note
Which I once wrote
guards 'Nostalgia' in its folds-
an ancient treasure trove,
Virginal, ethereal, mesmerizing...


The frayed old note

Which I once wrote

collates the fragments of my youth-

the drowsy afternoons, 

the endless hours of gazing into the vast stretches of nothingness above,

the love that never was...

The frayed old note

Which I once wrote

paints pictures- 

of dewy dawns- misty and  dreamy,

of rains of gloom and gaiety,

of rainbows- hues of hope 

and darkness, despair and loss...

The frayed old note

Which I once wrote

guides me through a mystic maze,

Just as a sorcerer would,

and I remember,

I was seventeen once...

The frayed old note

Which I once wrote

narrates a new tale, each time I unfold it,

Wounds my soul, each time I remember a wish - unfulfilled

a feeling- unspoken, a desire- forgotten...

Things I love & hate about Kolkata

"...A pile of shit that God dropped..."-- this is how the legendary author Gunter Grass describes Calcutta, which is now better known as Kolkata. A city where I was born and brought up, Kolkata is very much a part of my soul. Kolkata is has witnessed  all my firsts....namely, my first crush, my first date, my first movie, my first poem, my first everything...However, much as I love my city, I cannot turn blind to the gory sores that cripple the very notion of a healthy life, here. 

I have grown up in our very own 'City of Joy', like many of my friends, and have often asked myself, what is so 'joyous' about Calcutta? To any visitor, who is here for the first time, the city symbolizes the grim reality of a poverty-stricken India-- a city known for Mother Teresa and her immense efforts to rid the city of its filth, to provide food, shelter and the basic amenities needed for mere survival to hundreds of its homeless children, orphans and numerous other 'have-nots',---a city full of slums, waterlogged streets in the monsoons, and beggars of all ages lining the pavements. Is this what our dear old 'Kolkata' is all about? Do tourists visit this ex-capital of the British regime, just to feel great and superior amidst scores of unlucky people who happen to live here and face the daily drudgery of life in an over-populated city of a 'third-world' nation?

So, what is 'Kolkata' all about? From all of this city that I have seen since childhood, Kolkata to me, is a surprising concoction of 'the lively' and 'the dreary'. To put it simply, there are certain aspects of this city which one can fall in love with, at first sight. However, that does not protect one from the filth that is a part of this city. The following, is a list of my most enchanting and my most disgusting experiences with this city. Opinions may vary from person to person, but this is entirely my perspective of this city that I have known since the last 25 years.

To begin with,Some of the most utterly detestable aspects of this city are, 

The men: the men (some of them, not all) of this city (with due respect to all my male friends and family members) remind me of a story that I had once read in a Hans Anderson volume, which depicted a coarse path through the middle of the ocean, that the mermaid was supposed to cross. This path was lined with evil trees which had branches that would grasp and tear at anything and everything that comes across their path. Most men of this city, (or the middle aged ones who mostly travel by public transport, to be precise) behave as if women are more endangered than the black buck, or more rare than an alien from outer space. Ogling, pushing, shoving are common phenomena. Added to this is the chauvinistic chant of defense when they are caught in the act. The recent addition to this, is the shameless way in which they prefer to stand amidst scores of women in the ladies' compartments of the metro, and engage in a war of words with women for a mere place to sit in public transports. Shame on you, men of Calcutta. One advice for you: Grow up!

The metro: Once known as the 'pride of Calcutta', the metro services have deteriorated beyond words, in the recent past. Serpentine queues, rude staff, faulty ticket-punching machines, the type of service which is a far cry from what it used to be, even ten years ago, have all made the metro, a living hell. AC rakes and tokens not withstanding, few can distinguish between the metro and a 'local', these days. Where did the charisma vanish? Why has the metro turned into a favourite 'suicide haunt'? Why does it have to resemble cattle sheds with passengers being hardly able to breath in the crammed compartments, during peak hours? Perhaps, nobody has the right answers. 

The roads and public amenities: Potholes, waterlogged streets during the monsoons which put even Venice to shame, hospitals which have mice gnawing at patients who simply lie on the floor due to lack of space, new-borns dying every other day, frequent power cuts even during important exams....and the list does not end.

The attitude of people: Just as the naive 'Sardar' ji jokes, one cannot ignore the image that people from Calcutta carry with them. The 'Bangali bhodrolok' is well versed in Rabindrasangeet and knows the strokes of Ganguly by heart. Yet, he is too feeble to respond to the cries of a teenager being molested by goons or of an accident victim lying in a pool of blood on a busy highway. There are obviously, exceptions. 

Much as we hate Kolkata for its faults, we love it too, at times, and below are a few instances when we pride ourselves on being a Kolkatan. 






The sweets: Kolkata is synonymous to sweets for many, and most tourists from other regions of India or from anywhere else in the world would definitely not miss the 'Mishti Doi' or 'Shondesh', when they are here. One aspect which makes Kolkata ace the list of cities which make mouth watering sweets, is the variety. From 'chamcham', to 'kancha golla', 'pantua' to 'golap jam', 'jilipi' to 'rabri' &' komola bhog' to 'chandrapuli', you name it, and they have it. The 'rosogolla' however, rules the roost, and is symbolic of the love for sweets that an average Kolkata dweller nurtures.






The street food: Much has been said about how Kolkata is home to the cheapest and the most delicious of all street food. A close scrutiny, proves furthermore, how very delectable food can be, on the streets of Kolkata. The pavements next to towering office buildings, though a bit dingy, are the very places where one finds food of all sorts. Be it the momos of 'Exide more', the 'puchkas', or the chaat, street food in Kolkata is the best deal that one can get. Infact the city is perhaps the only place where one can have a full-fledged meal of rice, dal and bhaaji for  anything between Rs. 12 to Rs. 20. Biriyani at Rs. 30, chilli chicken at Rs. 5 per piece and fried rice at Rs. 16 per plate--- street food has never been better than on the pavements of Camac street. The variety here too is striking, as one can lay one's hands on anything ranging from dosa , roti, 'luchi', dal, rice, aloo dum, chicken, mutton, paneer, to fruits, sweets and lassi. Similarly, nobody who has ever tasted the fresh mango and pineapple juice on the pavements of Shyambazar, can forget the refreshing feel of it. 

Park street: Witness to a million blooming romances & a billion revellers during Christmas, through the years, Park street is the life-blood of the city.  A place which houses everything from fast food joints, pubs, and classy restaurants, with an array of dishes, be they Indian, Continental or Chinese, to book and music shops, Park street can very rightly be described as the 'Connaught place of Kolkata'. The place comes alive during Christmas, with the mesmerising lights and revelry that lasts till the wee hours of morning. A walk through Park street is immensely therapeutic and nostalgic for many belonging to our times, and will be so, for many generations to come. Flury's, BBQ, Peter Cat,KFC, Music world, Oxford, Someplace else, The Park.... Park street is a collage of joy and good times.

Durga puja: This was, is and will be the best feature of Kolkata, for years to come. Durga puja, is one occasion which makes everyone of us in Kolkata turn into a community, which eats, drinks and sleeps 'joy'. The aesthetics that the 'themed' pandals and idols exude, is an obvious symbol of the faith that the people of Bengal have, in their creativity. The colour, the pulsating happiness, the exuberance and the pomp that are intrinsic to this event, make it something worth staying in Kolkata for. Families staying miles apart re-unite with their cousins, uncles and aunts. 'Adda', 'Bhog', 'Pushpanjali', 'Shindur khela' --- the very many facets of this gigantic event brings a lot apart from Maa Durga's blessings with it. It gives us an excuse to splurge at the malls, much prior to the actual event. It makes us ignore our diet plans for four days. It makes us forget our woes and simply be 'happy'

The culture and heritage: The Kolkata 'culture' is not all about 'Ilish macch' and sweet loving Bengalees. It is a kaleidoscope of many facets. A glimpse of images which are drilled into the existence of Kolkata  will include the hand-pulled rickshaw (though, a symbol of slavery, to some), the tram (romantic, in its very existence), the temples at Kalighat and Dakshineshwar, the Victoria memorial, the Outram 'ghat', the flea markets of Gariahat or Hatibagan which house everything from bags, accessories and clothes to household items and gifts at amazingly affordable rates, the 'boi para' at College street which looks forward to a promising renovation and relocation at the up-coming 'book mall' called 'Barnaparichay', The annual 'Book fair', the coffee house- the nursery of dreams, and the 'jholas' of Presidency and JU (though, a cliche, its existence cannot be ignored), to name a few.

This is Kolkata, the way I see it, and have seen it since my birth. A city which inspite of being grossly irritating at times, is home to some of the most amazing concepts which enthrall and overwhelm me at the same time.

Between You and me

Well, friends, this is a special poem written by me, inspired by the captivating fantasy/Gothic romance, 'Twilight' by Stephenie Meyer. It was one of my friends, who had introduced me to this epic saga, a few years back. I was not particularly interested in the idea of reading another 'teen vampire romance'. It took me a while before I read the novel, and was completely enamoured by it.

 I was floored by the passion that Edward- the vampire hero of this novel, exuded. The saga with its poetic cadence and intense passion reminded me of another fiery classic, 'Wuthering heights' (Though, I am not comparing the two). The tension between the 'Cold one', Edward and the 'Warm' Jacob again reminds me of a similar tension between Edward Rochester and St. John Rivers in the classic Gothic romance 'Jane Eyre'. The movie version of this saga too did not disappoint me.

However, while reading 'Breaking Dawn'- the final version and the conclusion of this saga, recently, I truly hoped that the movie scheduled to release later this year, does some justice to the intense passion and unadulterated love depicted in the book. 'Twilight' to me is one of the best romance novels that I've read (Yes, I say that inspite of it being a mere 'bestseller', & inspite of it having an unrealistic plot ). So, Edward and Bella, this poem by me, is dedicated to you, both.

It is a poem from Bella's perspective, comparing her 'human' self with Edward's divine good looks and charm. Hope you like it.

 Between You and me

You-

 The honey breath, the sun-kissed frame, the amber eyes,

The mesmerizing elegance which I call ‘mine’.

Me-

Mere mortal,

Hypnotized by the euphony -your voice?

Electrified by the glacial river- your lips?

You-

The mellow Sun kissing the earth,

just after a heavy shower,

Giving birth to the earthy aroma,

Emanating from the rain-soaked loam.

Me-

Enveloped by the simmering passion called ‘you’,

Drowning in the amber ocean,

A vessel- torn by the all-consuming tempest,

Yet, not obliterated, but rejuvenated

- The flourishing excess of Spring- pregnant with possibilities.

You-

The immortal eloquence,

The bitter sweet pain which I call pleasure,

The ignominy of knowing that I am the brittle glass, beside your steel arms-

Strong, yet beautiful in their silver radiance.

Me-

Dazed & scorched by your perpetual passion,

yet, frozen by your icy touch.

Lost forever, in the meandering maze of love,

and blinded by the brilliance of your existence.

Me-

The loner,

the isolated soul,

a bundle of imperfection wrapped in your tender embrace, needing you-

Every insignificant moment of your ‘forever’.

You-

The enigma,

the charisma,

the elusive being,

Sans the throb of life,

Yet pulsating in the eternal, glorious rhythm of perfection.

You-

The flawless cadence,

the evergreen freshness of a rose-bed enlivened by the morning dew,

preserved through centuries,

A mystery- protected by some cryptic code.

Me-

Burning,

freezing,

- at the same time

In your overwhelming presence,

Caged by your love,

And enslaved by Destiny

Into loving you

And you,

and you, for eons ahead.

Letting my heart and soul melt into nothingness,

Loving a love, too intense to be encapsulated by

This body, this heart, this soul, this existence which is mine

Yet, not mine anymore

Drifting into a realm of enchantment

Which defies cruel Death

Dark, yet eternally glowing

Still, yet forever stirring

Dead, yet evermore living.

You-

Dear Edward,

Me-

Your Bella

Forever

Of adventure, spirits and scary rides

One lazy afternoon I was thinking of the most adventurous thing that I had done, and was reminded of nothing substantial. I would not particularly tag myself as an adventurous person, having had not even a single vacation without my family. However, I was instantly reminded of the scary night that I had once spent at a bungalow in Ramgarh, belonging to a close relative, last January. The events that followed were truly hair-raising.

It all began with a split second decision to go to the bungalow at Ramgarh, which I had heard so much about. Ramgarh is a picturesque hill station located in the Nainital district of Uttarakhand. We, that is, me, Sudeep, Abhinav and Sujata, hopped into our Swift with a weekend's supply of junk and headed off to our weekend destination. I remember waking up at 3:30 in the morning and rushing to pick our friends up by 4am, cruising through the uncannily silent and empty highways of Noida. By early afternoon the next day, we were watching the stray monkeys on the road, from our car windows, and waiting to reach our destination.

The moment finally arrived when we reached the small town. We were all excited to spend the weekend in the beautiful summer house, where we were headed. It was lodged amidst the rocky path towards the river, nearby, and thus we had to make do without the car for a while, as we struggled through the rough and narrow path ahead to our destination. 

The room had a beautiful view, and was cosy too. After freshening up and arranging for our dinner at a hotel nearby, we ventured to explore the area nearby. It was a small locality snugly accommodated amidst the forested valley, and there was little habitation near our bungalow. However, the winding path leading to the river nearby, was what drew our attention. All four of us hopped down the path, joking and chatting our hearts out. It was Sujata, who suddenly pointed out that hilly areas are known to have spirits hovering about, and one should make sure that one ties one's hair up, as spirits are known to attack young ladies who leave their hair untied. I laughed off this concept, though, as soon as the Sun set, I knew that I would not be having a sound sleep that night. It was chilly and we shut ourselves up in the room, reminiscing spooky tales from our past. There were tales of spirits having entered someone's body, there were real-life accounts of the 'ouija board' and of how a 'planchette' went wrong when the spirit did not leave at the end, but stuck to a lady, making her attempt to jump off her terrace. As the night grew darker, we decided it was time to go out for dinner at the hotel where we had arranged it for.

Four of us, decked up in our woollens and armed with torches began walking down the rocky path again. This time, the locales looked straight out of a horror movie. With no signs of life nearby, we noticed dim and faint lights far off, showing signs of hilly habitation. The same site which looked tremendously beautiful in the daytime, seemed scary in the nighttime. We somehow reached the car in the dark, and headed down to the hotel, nearby. I heaved a sigh of relief as I saw some lights again. 

The hotel was called 'Whispering pines' and was a pretty sight. The TV was on, and there was a lot of food to choose from. We were in the middle of a sumptuous dinner, when just for the fun of it, we asked the waiter casually whether there were wild animals around, since the forest below seemed very dense. To our utter horror, the waiter replied smiling, that just two days earlier the half eaten carcass of a cow had been found near the village below and that leopards were a common sight there. This news ruined my appetite and I wondered if I would be able to get back alive in one piece. After dinner, we rushed back to our bungalow, and I was petrified of the surroundings. The trees seemed like giant monsters and I was mentally preparing myself for a sudden attack from behind, by a spirit or a leopard or whatever!

The night was even scarier for me, as I made sure each window and door was locked. I made a lot of attempts to sleep, but to no avail. The tales kept coming back to my mind, and coupled with that was the disturbing sound of running water, gurgling through the night, which to our dismay we found out was being emanated from a faulty water pipe. 

Finally, I was relieved when I heard the faint chirp of birds in the balcony. I was sure now that I had survived the night of terror, and then I saw the faint ray of light through the cracks in the window, and I fell asleep, relieved that no spirit would be able to harm me now.

I was just half an hour into my long awaited sleep, when I was woken up and told to get ready for our day's events. It was decided that we would visit Nainital. A few hours later, we were enjoying a great sunny day at the Lake, offering our prayers at the Naina Devi temple and shopping for designer candles at the local market. It was as if, the night before had never existed. The terror was replaced with joy.

It was on our way back to Noida, when the horror returned. We were rushing back, when the traffic came to a halt on a busy highway, probably due to an accident or breakdown. The police asked us where we were going and guided us to a 'short-cut' to the nearest city, Ghaziabad. "Do kilometer baad hi sheher hai", he said with confidence. We were suddenly travelling through a narrow, dark road flanked by trees on both sides. This seemed even scarier than Ramgarh. It was apparently a village that we were travelling through, and not a single light was seen. It seemed like all villages in UP, this one too went to sleep by 7 or 8 in the night. And worse still, we suddenly noticed that as we drove through the winding road, the few cars which we had noticed were behind us, suddenly were there no more. We realized they probably found another 'short-cut'. We tried following the car right ahead of us, but we lost that too after a while as it sped ahead. So, now, it was again the long,  pitch dark road ahead, the terror, and the four of us, praying for this ordeal to come to an end. After a long ride for about 15 minutes, when the 'do kilometer' seemed like 'bees kilometer', we were almost sure that we had lost our way and there was not a soul who could help us. All of a sudden we noticed a faint light and 2 people, armed and uniformed. We reported our situation and asked how far the 'sheher' in question was, and were told, "Do kadam aage". The "do kadam" again did not end, we drove along and luckily came across a tractor sluggishly moving ahead. We were at the end of our wits, by now, and scared too. But we had to take a chance, and so, requested the tractor-owner to help us. He agreed reluctantly, and asked us to follow his tractor as he too was heading towards the 'sheher'. After 2 minutes of a painfully slow drive behind the tractor, we finally reached the highway linking us to Ghaziabad. We were thanking our stars and the tractor driver too. Finally, we were sure that we were safe.

It was a journey worth remembering and a journey full of unexpected events. However, at the end of it all, we came across a lot of unwanted 'adventure' which will be etched in our minds for as long as we live.