As usual, I was the last to leave. Today, for a change, I managed to tick off most things on my todo list and was putting the finishing touches on a report before leaving for the night. Today was my first day at work after a bout of flu. I could have finished the report tomorrow...but just wanted all items checked on atleast one day in this financial year!
N was there too. It was normal for one of us to finish slightly earlier than the other and wait.
-- How much longer? she asked.
-- 10 minutes.
-- You said 10 minutes, 10 minutes ago.
-- Just finishing...
The 10 minutes became 40. At 7, she said she was leaving and went downstairs while I took a back up of the report on my USB (for finishing at home), switched off my PC, modem, invertor, the lights and fans, locked the door and walk downstairs. No sign of her. As I rounded each corner (6 of them in the short 5 minute walk to the bus stop), thought I'd catch up with her (longer strides) but she wasn't there. She must be waiting inside an auto at the stand - waiting for it to fill up. Nope. All empty autos. No N and atleast 15 minutes of waiting (if lucky) for the auto to fill up and leave the stand.
I called her: Where are you?
-- Where are you?
-- At the bus stand. I just arrived...took only the time to shut down and you are not there....
-- I just left...Eamaa**.
Never mind, I said coolly and hung up all the while seething. "I will finish my work and leave alone. And leave without waiting for anyone. I should have finished my report instead of taking work home. I did leave on Saturday without waiting for her and not even informing her when she was taking the training session. What's the big deal anyhow? Maybe she was in a rush. And not that there was anything earth shattering except gossip to catch up on", I fumed silently.
The stretch seemed longer...the halts more innumerable (if possible and not just grammatically), the buses spewing more poisonous exhaust...and the pen-ultimate bad thing .... fat co-passengers - who squash you without any qualms. (Ultimate would be a lechy co-passenger). I got out at Taratolla, worse for wear and bang into N.
-- Hey! What are you doing?
-- I felt so bad ...
-- That you waited? Are you nuts (pretending to be genuinely concerned-surprised and not yahoo-elated-surprised).
-- No...I just waited for 5 minutes.
-- What if I'd taken a bus - I wouldn't have stopped to change at Taratolla.
-- I would have waited for only 5 minutes more.
We got into an auto....I elated, she relieved (both not showing it) while I calculated that she must have waited for more than 5 minutes. Much more. We talked of mundane things...and then I got off as usual earlier at Deshopriya Park... Walked with a spring in my steps...in the fine drizzle (hilsay guri) homewards.
That's what friends are for....
** Eema is actually much more common a word and higher in the stakes of the most popular bengali word among bongs than "eesh" of the Aishwariya-Paro of Devdas fame.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Monday, July 06, 2009
An Alpine in Kolkata
The auto I was in, took a sharp turn onto the flyover and it tilted on its rear wheel and just as I thought we'd topple over...a car rushed past and out of the rear window, popped out an ENORMOUS FURRY head: A full grown (given the size of its head), furry Saint Bernard, enjoying the breeze, a enormous tongue (like a babies bib) lolling. I kid you not.
All of us including the driver oohed and aahed and had something to say about it.
But don't these enormous, furry, cuddly dogs ...with small beer casks tied on their collars ... revive people stranded / buried deep in snow...somewhere in the alps? Aren't they alpine? Meaning from a cold clime. Lots of snow and sub zero temperature is normal for them.
Why bring them to Kolkata of all places, snugly tucked in the eastern armpit of India (no wonder its - Kolkata and not the St. Bernard - so sweaty and odourous)...which itself is located in the Torrid Zone. Sheer cruelty.
Perhaps, it was brought as a pup to Kolkata and has only known hot and humid weather and is quite at home and was enjoying the gentle breeze...
All of us including the driver oohed and aahed and had something to say about it.
But don't these enormous, furry, cuddly dogs ...with small beer casks tied on their collars ... revive people stranded / buried deep in snow...somewhere in the alps? Aren't they alpine? Meaning from a cold clime. Lots of snow and sub zero temperature is normal for them.
Why bring them to Kolkata of all places, snugly tucked in the eastern armpit of India (no wonder its - Kolkata and not the St. Bernard - so sweaty and odourous)...which itself is located in the Torrid Zone. Sheer cruelty.
Perhaps, it was brought as a pup to Kolkata and has only known hot and humid weather and is quite at home and was enjoying the gentle breeze...
Saturday, July 04, 2009
Nipped in the Bud
Long work week, longer commute to and fro, work load, horrible weather and really nice colleagues – result: no gossip to liven up things. And then it happened...like in a soap opera, episode by episode. No saas-bahu kissa though. Just a pretty overseas volunteer, a local romeo, the local "dada", a shoe shop and us spoil sports.
She - the volunteer - had settled in pretty quickly, found her way about - the tailor, the cyber cafe, the sabzi walla, the boutique and the shoe shop. Whenever we'd meet she'd give us an update on her life so far and her explorations. Then one day she asked if it was the custom here (in Kolkata) for young men to tell women "I want to make frend-ceep"! What??!!! Not one of those again. Most of us have had at least one proposal for frend-ceep, if not more!
"No, of course not. Don't even bother to reply", we told her. She nodded. Then she said, well this guy keeps calling her Madam and begs her for one minute (of her time) in between asking her for frend ceep, telling her how nice she looks and how fair her skin is. Where did you meet him? At the shoe shop. He is the owner's son. Ignore him and go to another shop, was our advice.
We kept asking her, ribbing her about her "frend" and her "fren-ceep" shoes. He had progressed to asking for her cell number, where she worked, where she stayed etc.
"But why do you still go to his shop?" “I don't. He follows me on my way to the cyber cafe".
And then one day, she came running looking rather panicked. "He followed me all the way here. And kept asking me for one minute please".
Gone were our smiles. She would frequently go to the cybercafe at night ... her only way to keep in touch with friends and family far away. What if....
We rushed to our Director and told her. And she found the solution too. And fast. In came the strapping young realtor who is the local dada cum Good Samaritan. He was informed about the little problem. And within 15 minutes, the frend was called and for an informal chat with our Director. Just her, him and the dada. In polite icy tones, he was asked to desist. And all the while, the dada had his friendly hand clamped on the frend's shoulder. The frend who had swaggered in, baseball cap on, crept downstairs all thoughts of frend-ceep gone!
While we, gossipy old biddies, that we are....lurked and grinned from the sidelines!
She - the volunteer - had settled in pretty quickly, found her way about - the tailor, the cyber cafe, the sabzi walla, the boutique and the shoe shop. Whenever we'd meet she'd give us an update on her life so far and her explorations. Then one day she asked if it was the custom here (in Kolkata) for young men to tell women "I want to make frend-ceep"! What??!!! Not one of those again. Most of us have had at least one proposal for frend-ceep, if not more!
"No, of course not. Don't even bother to reply", we told her. She nodded. Then she said, well this guy keeps calling her Madam and begs her for one minute (of her time) in between asking her for frend ceep, telling her how nice she looks and how fair her skin is. Where did you meet him? At the shoe shop. He is the owner's son. Ignore him and go to another shop, was our advice.
We kept asking her, ribbing her about her "frend" and her "fren-ceep" shoes. He had progressed to asking for her cell number, where she worked, where she stayed etc.
"But why do you still go to his shop?" “I don't. He follows me on my way to the cyber cafe".
And then one day, she came running looking rather panicked. "He followed me all the way here. And kept asking me for one minute please".
Gone were our smiles. She would frequently go to the cybercafe at night ... her only way to keep in touch with friends and family far away. What if....
We rushed to our Director and told her. And she found the solution too. And fast. In came the strapping young realtor who is the local dada cum Good Samaritan. He was informed about the little problem. And within 15 minutes, the frend was called and for an informal chat with our Director. Just her, him and the dada. In polite icy tones, he was asked to desist. And all the while, the dada had his friendly hand clamped on the frend's shoulder. The frend who had swaggered in, baseball cap on, crept downstairs all thoughts of frend-ceep gone!
While we, gossipy old biddies, that we are....lurked and grinned from the sidelines!
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Theatre of the Absurd...
... The first thing that popped into my head when I read about Behenji's statue making and installing spree.
The term Theatre of the Absurd (French: Théâtre de l'Absurde) was coined by the critic Martin Esslin, and was the title of his book first published in 1961. Samuel Beckett, Arthur Adamov, Eugène Ionesco, and Jean Genet were presented by Esselin as the four defining playwrights of the movementand later on Harold Pinter.
As per Wiki: Though the term is applied to a wide range of plays, some characteristics coincide in many of the plays: broad comedy, often similar to Vaudeville, mixed with horrific or tragic images; characters caught in hopeless situations forced to do repetitive or meaningless actions; dialogue full of clichés, wordplay, and nonsense; plots that are cyclical or absurdly expansive; either a parody or dismissal of realism and the concept of the "well-made play".
These playright have company: Behenji. How else does one justify crores already spent from the state exchequer on statues of Behenji, Kanshi Ram, Ambedkar and as per TOI reports - Elephants (her party's symbol)? And all this is unfolding not in a theatre somewhere...but in Uttar Pradesh...in India. All's the world a stage apparently for Ms. Maya.
There is a famous bengali skit where Bhanu Bannerjee was told that his statue would be installed...he declined the offer saying what would it serve except for crows and eagles ****ing on his head.
Obviously Behenji had not taken that into consideration nor thought it important enough to consider the proverbial excreta hitting the fan.
But moot point is, like her name says it all, everything in this world is afterall....Maya (illusion)!
More here on Theatre of the Absurd
The term Theatre of the Absurd (French: Théâtre de l'Absurde) was coined by the critic Martin Esslin, and was the title of his book first published in 1961. Samuel Beckett, Arthur Adamov, Eugène Ionesco, and Jean Genet were presented by Esselin as the four defining playwrights of the movementand later on Harold Pinter.
As per Wiki: Though the term is applied to a wide range of plays, some characteristics coincide in many of the plays: broad comedy, often similar to Vaudeville, mixed with horrific or tragic images; characters caught in hopeless situations forced to do repetitive or meaningless actions; dialogue full of clichés, wordplay, and nonsense; plots that are cyclical or absurdly expansive; either a parody or dismissal of realism and the concept of the "well-made play".
These playright have company: Behenji. How else does one justify crores already spent from the state exchequer on statues of Behenji, Kanshi Ram, Ambedkar and as per TOI reports - Elephants (her party's symbol)? And all this is unfolding not in a theatre somewhere...but in Uttar Pradesh...in India. All's the world a stage apparently for Ms. Maya.
There is a famous bengali skit where Bhanu Bannerjee was told that his statue would be installed...he declined the offer saying what would it serve except for crows and eagles ****ing on his head.
Obviously Behenji had not taken that into consideration nor thought it important enough to consider the proverbial excreta hitting the fan.
But moot point is, like her name says it all, everything in this world is afterall....Maya (illusion)!
More here on Theatre of the Absurd
Monday, June 29, 2009
Historical or History?
I have always liked going to the zoo – liked the idea that is. The last time I went to a zoo was in Paris in 2003 – to Jardin Des Plantes, very close to where I lived.
Time constraints, work pressure and distance have ensured that it has remained just that - a plan. I tried to in Delhi but in vain. Here in Kolkata, I keep passing the Alipore Zoological Gardens and keep making mental plans to visit it.
Yesterday, I went visiting my pals and the weather being cloudy and overcast, we decided to visit the zoo along with their two bubbly kids (they, I am sure would say that "bubbly" would be the understatement of the century).
Atlast was the chance to relive the thrill of my childhood visits to the zoo. For M & S, it was a place of fond memories of another kind – a frequent haunt during their courtship days – a place so far away and so not-on-the-agenda-of-family that it was the securest and best place for many a romantic tryst.
All of us were in for a shock. The oldest zoo in the country and inaugurated on January 1, 1876 by Edward VII, then Prince of Wales no less Overgrown, unkempt,empty broken cages and pens? What little animals there were, were all asleep, comatose even. What was this ruin?
There - that's where I had thrown a handful of peanuts to the large bear and one had landed just out of the bear's reach. Clever thing, put its snout close to the grill and inhaled deeply and the peanut rolled inside and it to its paws! And over here...the lajja bati bandors - who would cringe and try to merge with the foliage. And over there were the tigers - son of Rupa and Deepak, mother of Rani and Raja, (Which had prompted R, my sis to ask in a very loud for a 4 year old voice - "Ma, do tigers get married?")!!
Look, M would frequently stop to say, we sat there on the grass; And we ate ice creams over there on the stepsthere and remember when we bumped into a cousin...
Not just our memories. These and a million other wonderful happy memories....all buried under debris, litter and wreckage. It would have been tolerable had things altered, made way for the better. We would have sighed at "modernization" but would be happy about the changes.
The reptile house was once such a big draw. And now, we had to squint through the ill lit dirty panes of the glass cases to find, if at all, a lethargic snake curled up in the innermost recess.
And Adwaita the 250 year old turtle from Galagagos islands. [He thankgod, passed away and is now in turtle heaven].
And the grounds filled with beautiful old buildings -- now empty, broken down and the ubiquitous gamcha and lungi hanging on a string ... caretaker and family must have moved in.
The crowd was there as were food stalls, selling their wares briskly which meant empty plastic bottles, packets adding to the general litter.
Does nothing work here? Apparently not. I wish I hadn't gone. Atleast I'd still remember the wonderful visits of the past.
I could have done much better if I had sat indoors, surfing like I do on a Sunday and read about the Alipore Zoological Gardens on Wikipedia and went on a trip down memory lane.
Like all things in Bengal, the zoo too is historical. However, History would better describe it. Next on my agenda was the Botanical Gardens. But I think I will spare myself the agony.
Time constraints, work pressure and distance have ensured that it has remained just that - a plan. I tried to in Delhi but in vain. Here in Kolkata, I keep passing the Alipore Zoological Gardens and keep making mental plans to visit it.
Yesterday, I went visiting my pals and the weather being cloudy and overcast, we decided to visit the zoo along with their two bubbly kids (they, I am sure would say that "bubbly" would be the understatement of the century).
Atlast was the chance to relive the thrill of my childhood visits to the zoo. For M & S, it was a place of fond memories of another kind – a frequent haunt during their courtship days – a place so far away and so not-on-the-agenda-of-family that it was the securest and best place for many a romantic tryst.
All of us were in for a shock. The oldest zoo in the country and inaugurated on January 1, 1876 by Edward VII, then Prince of Wales no less Overgrown, unkempt,empty broken cages and pens? What little animals there were, were all asleep, comatose even. What was this ruin?
There - that's where I had thrown a handful of peanuts to the large bear and one had landed just out of the bear's reach. Clever thing, put its snout close to the grill and inhaled deeply and the peanut rolled inside and it to its paws! And over here...the lajja bati bandors - who would cringe and try to merge with the foliage. And over there were the tigers - son of Rupa and Deepak, mother of Rani and Raja, (Which had prompted R, my sis to ask in a very loud for a 4 year old voice - "Ma, do tigers get married?")!!
Look, M would frequently stop to say, we sat there on the grass; And we ate ice creams over there on the stepsthere and remember when we bumped into a cousin...
Not just our memories. These and a million other wonderful happy memories....all buried under debris, litter and wreckage. It would have been tolerable had things altered, made way for the better. We would have sighed at "modernization" but would be happy about the changes.
The reptile house was once such a big draw. And now, we had to squint through the ill lit dirty panes of the glass cases to find, if at all, a lethargic snake curled up in the innermost recess.
And Adwaita the 250 year old turtle from Galagagos islands. [He thankgod, passed away and is now in turtle heaven].
And the grounds filled with beautiful old buildings -- now empty, broken down and the ubiquitous gamcha and lungi hanging on a string ... caretaker and family must have moved in.
The crowd was there as were food stalls, selling their wares briskly which meant empty plastic bottles, packets adding to the general litter.
Does nothing work here? Apparently not. I wish I hadn't gone. Atleast I'd still remember the wonderful visits of the past.
I could have done much better if I had sat indoors, surfing like I do on a Sunday and read about the Alipore Zoological Gardens on Wikipedia and went on a trip down memory lane.
Like all things in Bengal, the zoo too is historical. However, History would better describe it. Next on my agenda was the Botanical Gardens. But I think I will spare myself the agony.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Hard work does pay...
Another Sunday - my only day off, began as usual. At the crack of dawn, while everyone caught up on much needed sleep, there I lay wide awake. Argh. How do people stay so late in bed. (Some of my friends even get up post noon). And specially since I don't acheive much ... just loll the day away. Wrists hurting from being at the keyboard (surfing, playing games etc) and eyes all bleary from the PC and or TV while my list of must do things gets bigger and bigger.
So, morning did indeed show the day: Early to rise and loads of things done! [Or didn't show the day considering the fact that I didn't loll the day away]. Right. I think I got the explanation right. Main things was I got some of my must-do chores done. Well actually only one. But by my standards, Herculean.
I rearranged all my books and CDs and atleast 10 large plastic carry bags [which are propped up, collecting dust just about anywhere since all the almirahs and cupboards and filled to bursting]full of old receipts and bills. Dusty, hot and bothered...I was sifting through the last bag when I found a small black leather purse. That one - god. Eons ago, Swa had given it to me when we used to work at the Internet Consultants in Kolkata. Was it as far back as 1998 or 99? Definitely in the last century. I used it constantly for 3-4 years and then shoved it in somewhere and used others. This one, in perfect condition, lay forgotten but moved with me everywhere I went for the last 10-12 years. I opened it up expecting more ancients bills and found unbelievably - 14 crisp 100 Rupee notes!
Hard work does pay...then.
Not to mention the room is looking much cleaner and nicer. And am looking forward to more cleaning and sprucing next sunday: Who knows what treasure lurks unbidden...somewhere?
So, morning did indeed show the day: Early to rise and loads of things done! [Or didn't show the day considering the fact that I didn't loll the day away]. Right. I think I got the explanation right. Main things was I got some of my must-do chores done. Well actually only one. But by my standards, Herculean.
I rearranged all my books and CDs and atleast 10 large plastic carry bags [which are propped up, collecting dust just about anywhere since all the almirahs and cupboards and filled to bursting]full of old receipts and bills. Dusty, hot and bothered...I was sifting through the last bag when I found a small black leather purse. That one - god. Eons ago, Swa had given it to me when we used to work at the Internet Consultants in Kolkata. Was it as far back as 1998 or 99? Definitely in the last century. I used it constantly for 3-4 years and then shoved it in somewhere and used others. This one, in perfect condition, lay forgotten but moved with me everywhere I went for the last 10-12 years. I opened it up expecting more ancients bills and found unbelievably - 14 crisp 100 Rupee notes!
Hard work does pay...then.
Not to mention the room is looking much cleaner and nicer. And am looking forward to more cleaning and sprucing next sunday: Who knows what treasure lurks unbidden...somewhere?
Thursday, June 04, 2009
The nicest of surprises
Gifts are always welcome especially if they are unexpected. Are there any other kinds then? Ofcourse - like at birthdays....they are expected aren't they? But best are the ones which just pop up.
Recently, a group of 16 smart young CBR workers turned up from Nagaland for training on Community Based Rehabilitation at the NGO where I work. Usually I meet trainees only at the begining and end of each work day and briefly at lunch - most of them being holed up in session after session or out on field trips.
One morning I landed up early to find the trainees (they usually stay in dormitories in the campus) finishing breakfast. One of them was deep into a book and as I passed by, I saw it was "The White Tiger" by Aaravind Adiga. I have been waiting for one of the 4 copies of the book at my local library, but in vain. They are always out. "How's the book?", I asked him. "Good", he said. Conversation over, he buried his nose back into the book and I went back to my desk.
Inspite of the fact that I am a member of a library with a rather vibrant collection, I can't help buying books. Somehow, I have resisted buying this book preferring to wait for it to turn up on the returned book shelf. And I have resisted hard. Copies of the gleaming white hard cover book seem to be everywhere - airports, rail stations, book store fronts and even on foot path vendors.I asked him couple of times on the book's progress. Fine was his terse reply.
And then it was their last day with only half a day's session. Session over, they said their goodbyes and disappeared to their rooms to pack and leave to catch their trains back to Nagaland. We (the staff) were all seated in the long dining room for lunch. Suddenly, this young chap - the reader - ran upto me and said, "I finished it", and thrust the book in my hands and left with a hasty "Bye". And there I was, The White Tiger in my hand, mouth agape. I ran upto him and said - "I am not that fast a reader. Don't you have to catch a train this evening"? "No Ma'am - you keep it", he said and as I gushed my thanks (gushing at my age is such a silly thing but I could do nowt but gush) - he bent his head slightly and put a hand on his heart and said - "you are welcome". Needless to say I had a grin plastered on my face for the rest of the day and evening and late into the night!
God bless you, young man! And may some one else thrust another book that you have been waiting for, one day - it's, I tell you, the nicest of surprises.
Recently, a group of 16 smart young CBR workers turned up from Nagaland for training on Community Based Rehabilitation at the NGO where I work. Usually I meet trainees only at the begining and end of each work day and briefly at lunch - most of them being holed up in session after session or out on field trips.
One morning I landed up early to find the trainees (they usually stay in dormitories in the campus) finishing breakfast. One of them was deep into a book and as I passed by, I saw it was "The White Tiger" by Aaravind Adiga. I have been waiting for one of the 4 copies of the book at my local library, but in vain. They are always out. "How's the book?", I asked him. "Good", he said. Conversation over, he buried his nose back into the book and I went back to my desk.
Inspite of the fact that I am a member of a library with a rather vibrant collection, I can't help buying books. Somehow, I have resisted buying this book preferring to wait for it to turn up on the returned book shelf. And I have resisted hard. Copies of the gleaming white hard cover book seem to be everywhere - airports, rail stations, book store fronts and even on foot path vendors.I asked him couple of times on the book's progress. Fine was his terse reply.
And then it was their last day with only half a day's session. Session over, they said their goodbyes and disappeared to their rooms to pack and leave to catch their trains back to Nagaland. We (the staff) were all seated in the long dining room for lunch. Suddenly, this young chap - the reader - ran upto me and said, "I finished it", and thrust the book in my hands and left with a hasty "Bye". And there I was, The White Tiger in my hand, mouth agape. I ran upto him and said - "I am not that fast a reader. Don't you have to catch a train this evening"? "No Ma'am - you keep it", he said and as I gushed my thanks (gushing at my age is such a silly thing but I could do nowt but gush) - he bent his head slightly and put a hand on his heart and said - "you are welcome". Needless to say I had a grin plastered on my face for the rest of the day and evening and late into the night!
God bless you, young man! And may some one else thrust another book that you have been waiting for, one day - it's, I tell you, the nicest of surprises.
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Jumping for joy (jamruls)
A long drawn out monthly manager's meeting...8 of us 'managers' in turn updating the Director and other manager on the status of projects we were each responsbile for. Can't say it was very enthralling stuff. Difficult sitting through other's updates...and I was 7th in line. Yawn.
As I shifted in my seat for the nth time, I looked out of a window on the other side and spied pale white jamruls (love apple, star apple, wax apple) with just the barest tinge of green. Was the tree inside our compound or on the neighbours? Atlast the meeting which began at 10.30 am drew to a close at 4. I rushed downstairs with a cup of tea in my hand and there it was - a tree laden with jamrul. Thoka-thoka would be the word for laden in bengali and somehow, it was exactly that. 'Laden' just couldn't do justice to the sight I beheld!! I cajoled Ashok the driver to give me a hand. Using a long forked stick (which was conveniently at hand), Ashok bent the branches laden and I plucked the jamruls. Very soon, I had enough for all (nearly 40 of us) with plenty still left on the higher branches. We went around distributing them to all and everyone said that these were the sweetest jamruls they had eaten in a long while.
I took my share (one) and kept it on my desk and got busy with the actually work (as opposed to meeting about work which we spent the entire day on). When I finished it was past 8pm. I switched off the lights, fans, PC, locked the room and walked out with my bag, lunch box, water bottle and that solitary jamrul! Funny, I never go ga-ga about jamrul normally. Rarely do I actually buy them from the market to eat. But getting them fresh off the tree was so much fun. The whole office was empty. Nearly. No one upstairs and only Prabirda downstairs, who usually leaves much after the rest as he waits for the night guard to arrive. I gave the last one to him along with the entire adventure (much more interesting than 'hey I went to the bazaar and bought a packet of jamruls)! I walked out without having tasted a single one but seriously I felt like I had eaaten the entire packet by myself!
As I shifted in my seat for the nth time, I looked out of a window on the other side and spied pale white jamruls (love apple, star apple, wax apple) with just the barest tinge of green. Was the tree inside our compound or on the neighbours? Atlast the meeting which began at 10.30 am drew to a close at 4. I rushed downstairs with a cup of tea in my hand and there it was - a tree laden with jamrul. Thoka-thoka would be the word for laden in bengali and somehow, it was exactly that. 'Laden' just couldn't do justice to the sight I beheld!! I cajoled Ashok the driver to give me a hand. Using a long forked stick (which was conveniently at hand), Ashok bent the branches laden and I plucked the jamruls. Very soon, I had enough for all (nearly 40 of us) with plenty still left on the higher branches. We went around distributing them to all and everyone said that these were the sweetest jamruls they had eaten in a long while.
I took my share (one) and kept it on my desk and got busy with the actually work (as opposed to meeting about work which we spent the entire day on). When I finished it was past 8pm. I switched off the lights, fans, PC, locked the room and walked out with my bag, lunch box, water bottle and that solitary jamrul! Funny, I never go ga-ga about jamrul normally. Rarely do I actually buy them from the market to eat. But getting them fresh off the tree was so much fun. The whole office was empty. Nearly. No one upstairs and only Prabirda downstairs, who usually leaves much after the rest as he waits for the night guard to arrive. I gave the last one to him along with the entire adventure (much more interesting than 'hey I went to the bazaar and bought a packet of jamruls)! I walked out without having tasted a single one but seriously I felt like I had eaaten the entire packet by myself!
Monday, May 25, 2009
Cyclone Aila hits West Bengal, Kolkata
Photo courtesy CNN IBNAila hit Kolkata, 24 Parganas south around 11 am with winds 100 -120 kms per hour. Trapped as we were at work...while Aila created havoc. There was a brief lull around 5:30, where we could exit and make our way home through roads turned green from branches and leaves strewn and crushed under wheels. Uprooted posts, torn wires and hoardings by the wayside and a marked absence of public buses and autos...we were the lucky ones. Many weren't so. Reports are still coming in of the number of dead and injured.
And although the storm has apparently moved away from Kolkata, its still extremely blustery outside and heavy rains expected.
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Post Poll Scenario: Silence
There is a total silence all around. Even the post poll analysis (explaning away of the loss as well as the jubiliation of winning) seems to be muted and half hearted .. on both sides.
A furious, enormous, all consuming tug of war was on...straining and draining all - party workers & bosses, by standers, aam junta et al, with no one was willing to cede an inch. And then yesterday, it was all over. One side found themselves dragged accross the dividing line and the other - flat on their back, rope in their hands ... won!
Sunday will then be spent in quiet contemplation as the realisation of loss and win sinks in.
A furious, enormous, all consuming tug of war was on...straining and draining all - party workers & bosses, by standers, aam junta et al, with no one was willing to cede an inch. And then yesterday, it was all over. One side found themselves dragged accross the dividing line and the other - flat on their back, rope in their hands ... won!
Sunday will then be spent in quiet contemplation as the realisation of loss and win sinks in.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Election Eve
Campaigning reached fever pitch over the weekend. The two main parties started plastering the city with gory pictures of burnt and cut bodies each claiming as the other's handiwork. Meetings and rallies were doubled or perhaps tripled.
On Saturday (temperature 41.8) as we whizzed down DH road entered and exited several airwaves: 1st a CPM meet blaring about "Bicchinotabadi (separatist) politics" and while I could wondered if Bengal was to be partitioned once again and how - west west bengal and east west bengal or north west bengal and south west bengal, we hit TMC air space - with Nandigram and Singur and into another left party meet (couldn't see the party banner -- we were hurtling past) shouting about the merits of a certain "netri" - who else but mamati di. A quick stop to unload a passenger and we had an earful of "cows smuggled in from bangladesh and about a cow abbatoir" - BJP meet and lastly (for that stretch) a meet of Gramin Chikitsak Samiti who were going on and on about a healthy government prosob (delivery) kora.
More of the same on Sunday -- which was HOTTER. And this time, at least one party felt the heat too. They had apparently set up a meeting around 10:00am at Lake Market but seeing no takers and probably all half dead with sun strokes, departed, flags, chairs, podium, mikes and all after only half an hour or so!!
And then the skies opened poured down on everyone's meeting and rallies as the deadline for campaigning came up on Monday afternoon. (I think even the party workers were secretly relieved).
Today has been very pleasant. It rained and rained and rained. Its nice and cool now - atleast 10 to 12 degrees cooler. And it has been a relief. Only the normal city noises - cars and buses and horns and general buzz of 9 million residents ... but those are constant fixtures and dont count. No loudspeakers, no michils, no rallies and no new hoardings. Ah! till tomorrow, these 48 hours will be the quitest for a very long time...perhaps for the next 5 years - since normally there is atleast a couple of orators on any given day in Kolkata blaring about something or the other.
More and more buses went off the road on "election duty". That meant general harrassment for commuters...but we are used to cramming into ancient boxes on wheels (something like the cramming into telephone booth fad of ancient times). Many were secretly thankful of the lesser number of buses: They could lead early from work. No seriously, many have had to face this problem today and many are still stuck at bus stops. However, the weather is now helping to somewhat smoothen the wait.
But I think we are going to miss all the crazy hoopla surrounding the elections - all other countries and perhaps even those in rest of India pales at our theatrics! We are going to miss the news bulletins of presiding officers caught skulking off (after poll hours) with the electronic voting machines and the strange tale of some 100 odd officials being transported somewhere on poll duty and all of a sudden they were off loaded from the bus which then zoomed off and these stranded officials blocked the road and created a ruckus!!
We vote tomorrow - in this final and last stage of voting - and hope that this will be the last session for these elections and there will be no need for re-polls.
On Saturday (temperature 41.8) as we whizzed down DH road entered and exited several airwaves: 1st a CPM meet blaring about "Bicchinotabadi (separatist) politics" and while I could wondered if Bengal was to be partitioned once again and how - west west bengal and east west bengal or north west bengal and south west bengal, we hit TMC air space - with Nandigram and Singur and into another left party meet (couldn't see the party banner -- we were hurtling past) shouting about the merits of a certain "netri" - who else but mamati di. A quick stop to unload a passenger and we had an earful of "cows smuggled in from bangladesh and about a cow abbatoir" - BJP meet and lastly (for that stretch) a meet of Gramin Chikitsak Samiti who were going on and on about a healthy government prosob (delivery) kora.
More of the same on Sunday -- which was HOTTER. And this time, at least one party felt the heat too. They had apparently set up a meeting around 10:00am at Lake Market but seeing no takers and probably all half dead with sun strokes, departed, flags, chairs, podium, mikes and all after only half an hour or so!!
And then the skies opened poured down on everyone's meeting and rallies as the deadline for campaigning came up on Monday afternoon. (I think even the party workers were secretly relieved).
Today has been very pleasant. It rained and rained and rained. Its nice and cool now - atleast 10 to 12 degrees cooler. And it has been a relief. Only the normal city noises - cars and buses and horns and general buzz of 9 million residents ... but those are constant fixtures and dont count. No loudspeakers, no michils, no rallies and no new hoardings. Ah! till tomorrow, these 48 hours will be the quitest for a very long time...perhaps for the next 5 years - since normally there is atleast a couple of orators on any given day in Kolkata blaring about something or the other.
More and more buses went off the road on "election duty". That meant general harrassment for commuters...but we are used to cramming into ancient boxes on wheels (something like the cramming into telephone booth fad of ancient times). Many were secretly thankful of the lesser number of buses: They could lead early from work. No seriously, many have had to face this problem today and many are still stuck at bus stops. However, the weather is now helping to somewhat smoothen the wait.
But I think we are going to miss all the crazy hoopla surrounding the elections - all other countries and perhaps even those in rest of India pales at our theatrics! We are going to miss the news bulletins of presiding officers caught skulking off (after poll hours) with the electronic voting machines and the strange tale of some 100 odd officials being transported somewhere on poll duty and all of a sudden they were off loaded from the bus which then zoomed off and these stranded officials blocked the road and created a ruckus!!
We vote tomorrow - in this final and last stage of voting - and hope that this will be the last session for these elections and there will be no need for re-polls.
Monday, May 11, 2009
A brief respite
No this photo isn't of today. It was not clicked by me, and most certainly its not even of Kolkata. But it is one
I kept looking at for cool comfort when things were
getting UNbearable.
At last. Our collective wait is over (if only for about half an hour). Mercury touched 42 degrees and was soaring. Humidity to boot. And to make matters really ANNOYING, skies were over cast since morning. Not a leaf stirred. And then suddenly, when we were wrapping up at work, homewards bound, a tremendous nor'wester swept in. Then came the rains. Crazy winds and fantastic lightening. So we were stuck. On top of that there was a rush to close windows before the panes shattered. So not only were we stuck, we were stuck indoors with the windows closed and all the hot air trapped in.
Despite our plans of leaving dot at 5.30 - many buses have gone off the roads (something to do with elections - not very sure what though) - we left much later. The narrow roads were rendered narrower because sides were filled with water leaving a narrow - one man -sorry - make that one person strip in the middle. The rickshaws, bikes came whizzing past on either side with all of us pedestrians walking through the centre, splashing us from left and right. And all the way to the bus stop, brilliant flashes lit the sky and scared me witless.
But at the end of the road, there was a welcome sight! A couple frying HOT piyanjis, phuluris and aloo chop. Ah! Just the thing in the cool and pleasant weather.
Friday, May 08, 2009
Waiting for the rains
Sight for several million pairs of sore eyes...alas, not in Kolkata. Not yet, but soon - hopefully
Wednesday, May 06, 2009
Kakdip and back...
Had to go to Kakdip yesterday (on work)... and within half an
hour we were able to leave planet polluto behind and
hit the long and not so narrow road...
hit the long and not so narrow road...
Drink in the greenery
Reach our destination, meetings, agenda, action plans, good homelylunch, power cuts without the sweat and grime....and leave
with one last look at the still ponds
Stop by the sunflowers
Wave goodbye to Kakdip bashisand there she was larger than life...
about to step into a scum filled pond....
to bring us back to reality...
Omnipresent Didi
Sunday, May 03, 2009
Mukul....Monay Poraychey?
...Sonar Kella?
Yesterday was Satyajit Ray's 88th Birth anniversary. Tai...his life and times and films was the main story on television yesterday. And a special treat in store: Sonar Kella. I first heard of it as a little girl, in Assam from a friend who had seen it on a recent trip to Kolkata. And what stayed with me was the magic thrill of the deep whisper "Mukul...monay porayche? Sonar Kella".
Years later, when I finally did get to see the film, I think I wept for joy. And each subsequent time, I have lingered over, loved and lapped up every full stop comma, characters, dialogues! And I can say with a lot of confidence that I am not the only one. There was this legendary comedian Louis de Feunes - star of the Gendarme series. My prof at Ecole De Roche told our class that "Le Gendarme" on it's release was seen by 90% of France. Only the very young and the very old and infirm didn't. I think Sonar Kella would be comparable (among bengalis that is). This might not be Ray's best work, however, it has a special special place that cannot be taken by anything else...not even, Ray's other works.
Most of the actors, technicians are gone or retired. Another Sonar Kella cannot be created (the very thought is sacrilegous) and yet it lives on...each time, we find it on TV, we watch it as if for the first time. And so strong is the magic that we wait for the new feluda movies although they pale in comparison - not for the lack of trying though. We understand and accept that. We wait eagerly for the new feluda and go and WATCH it (I saw the last one twice). And it was SRK's bad luck that his "Rab Ne Bana di Jodi" opened along with Feluda and was ofcourse, sidelined!!
How can we ever forget? And one generation will pass on the magic to the next and we will forever wait for Mukul to remember his Sonar Kella.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Poll Tales
The battle now is at fever pitch. The effects are getting to us - am currently down with fever - the daily onslaught of a 1000 blaring mikes, posters, banners, hoardings, flyers, processions, meetings is as bothersome as the hot humid weather.
It had began sedately enough but gained momentum, the battle being mainly between TMC & CPM (but ofcourse). A few lotuses here and there and I think I saw one hoarding (smallish) of Pranab Mukherjee. Local para Party offices opened up - CPM and TMC have theirs in ground floors of vacant buildings at right angles to each other, near my office.
BJP is content to a few flags tied to posts at the bus stand, accross the Diamond Harbour Road - which are there one day and gone the next.
With about 2 weeks remaining, the final onslaught is on. Work keeps me to this side of Kolkata and so I don't know what the scenarios are in traditional CPM strongholds - but unless they come up with something drastic, TMC seems to be winning the battle (of visibility) hands down!
It had began sedately enough but gained momentum, the battle being mainly between TMC & CPM (but ofcourse). A few lotuses here and there and I think I saw one hoarding (smallish) of Pranab Mukherjee. Local para Party offices opened up - CPM and TMC have theirs in ground floors of vacant buildings at right angles to each other, near my office.
BJP is content to a few flags tied to posts at the bus stand, accross the Diamond Harbour Road - which are there one day and gone the next.With about 2 weeks remaining, the final onslaught is on. Work keeps me to this side of Kolkata and so I don't know what the scenarios are in traditional CPM strongholds - but unless they come up with something drastic, TMC seems to be winning the battle (of visibility) hands down!
Didi's is everywhere...Slightly larger than life size cut outs are dotting the landscape. There is one just down the Kalighat bridge - on your right. In her white saree, peering in through over hanging branches...standing a top a small cement stoop...like she is about to hail a bus and step in!
And yesterday - the Coup de Grace: I got the schock of my life when I looked out of the bus window and saw didi, hands folded, serenely suicidal in the middle of the tram tracks. On a closer look ... it was a cutout in the space between the tracks ...but pretty effective one!
How do others or even TMC itself top this? Atleast the others have the option of saying that they don't indulge in such gimmicks! But hey...if nothing else, it does provide much needed comic relief.
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
United we sweat
Phew. It's been unbearable.
Temperatures ranging around 40, 41, 41.8, and if we are lucky (like today), 39 degrees. Plus Humidity - according to Yahoo it is 84% today (felt like 100%). And ofcourse power cuts everywhere and in a bizzare turn of affairs, Kolkata - Dumdum to Behala had 6-10 hours of powercut on Sunday, except for some 16 -20 houses in the Hazra- D'Park - Triangular Park area (us included) and couldn't enjoy our good luck for fear that we'd have a power cut too. And ofcourse there have been outages ever since - mostly as soon as we step into our office and throughly sweaty and tired even before we can began work and around 3pm each afternoon when it's hottest.
There was a met forecast of cyclone Bijli. It never came. (Which has come as a relief for people along the coast). Not only did Bijli bypass us completely, my ever cautious, ever prepared father insisted on having every window tightly shut for a few days after the met announcement which meant our nights - ones inside our appartment were as sweltering as the days.
What the multiple captain theory for KKR, CPM vs TMC couldn't do, the heat wave has. Kolkata is united in endless discussion on how hot it is, whose place is hotter, who suffered the most, prickly heat, boils and boil-lets (phora and phuskuri)...
Chaprasi to CEO everyone feeling the heat which shows no signs whatsoever of abating.
Temperatures ranging around 40, 41, 41.8, and if we are lucky (like today), 39 degrees. Plus Humidity - according to Yahoo it is 84% today (felt like 100%). And ofcourse power cuts everywhere and in a bizzare turn of affairs, Kolkata - Dumdum to Behala had 6-10 hours of powercut on Sunday, except for some 16 -20 houses in the Hazra- D'Park - Triangular Park area (us included) and couldn't enjoy our good luck for fear that we'd have a power cut too. And ofcourse there have been outages ever since - mostly as soon as we step into our office and throughly sweaty and tired even before we can began work and around 3pm each afternoon when it's hottest.
There was a met forecast of cyclone Bijli. It never came. (Which has come as a relief for people along the coast). Not only did Bijli bypass us completely, my ever cautious, ever prepared father insisted on having every window tightly shut for a few days after the met announcement which meant our nights - ones inside our appartment were as sweltering as the days.
What the multiple captain theory for KKR, CPM vs TMC couldn't do, the heat wave has. Kolkata is united in endless discussion on how hot it is, whose place is hotter, who suffered the most, prickly heat, boils and boil-lets (phora and phuskuri)...
Chaprasi to CEO everyone feeling the heat which shows no signs whatsoever of abating.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Not much Kolkata in Knight Riders
And there it was: Sourav won't be the captain of Kolkata Knight Riders - rotating or not. Brendan McCullum it would be.
At once the IPL balloon punctured for me. I was amazed at what I was feeling. I tried telling myself that its only a game and one which to my frequent angst gets way too much attention than any other sport in India; that it will be over in a month or so and life will simply move on for everyone including Sourav. And there are more important things in life. But I couldn't dislodge the stiffling pall of gloom which descended. I didn't feel like indulging in a screaming, shouting angry rant against everyone (real or imagined) who was responsible for it. Lost some interest in IPL.
What's left in KKR then? Only the KR? SRK's KR? John Buchanan's KR?
I did try to leave work early to catch the 2nd match last night and made the mistake of telling the auto driver to go super sonic fast: which he did: and had all of us speechless with fright - but I came home with 15 minutes to spare. Watched Chennai lose to Mumbai, saw Dimitri Mascarenhas's fantastic bowling in the first over. And yet that thrill I felt at the last IPL wasn't there. South Africa must have fantastic facilities, everything ship-shape, no power failure (like at Edens last year) but somehow -- that crazy passion wasn't there. Just not the same as seeing it happen in your own hometown (and not only at Eden, but anywhere else in the country), the hordes of manic about cricket fans. That palpable excitement, buzz, build up, the collective agony and ecstacy...not there.
I will be watching the 1st KR (and not so Kolkata KR) match tonight. (hurt and betrayed as I feel...eeeks....can that be me? Aparently it is....despite my telling myself its only a game)!
At once the IPL balloon punctured for me. I was amazed at what I was feeling. I tried telling myself that its only a game and one which to my frequent angst gets way too much attention than any other sport in India; that it will be over in a month or so and life will simply move on for everyone including Sourav. And there are more important things in life. But I couldn't dislodge the stiffling pall of gloom which descended. I didn't feel like indulging in a screaming, shouting angry rant against everyone (real or imagined) who was responsible for it. Lost some interest in IPL.
What's left in KKR then? Only the KR? SRK's KR? John Buchanan's KR?
I did try to leave work early to catch the 2nd match last night and made the mistake of telling the auto driver to go super sonic fast: which he did: and had all of us speechless with fright - but I came home with 15 minutes to spare. Watched Chennai lose to Mumbai, saw Dimitri Mascarenhas's fantastic bowling in the first over. And yet that thrill I felt at the last IPL wasn't there. South Africa must have fantastic facilities, everything ship-shape, no power failure (like at Edens last year) but somehow -- that crazy passion wasn't there. Just not the same as seeing it happen in your own hometown (and not only at Eden, but anywhere else in the country), the hordes of manic about cricket fans. That palpable excitement, buzz, build up, the collective agony and ecstacy...not there.
I will be watching the 1st KR (and not so Kolkata KR) match tonight. (hurt and betrayed as I feel...eeeks....can that be me? Aparently it is....despite my telling myself its only a game)!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Bengali New Year 1416
Best wishes for the Bengali new year 1416! Obviously a big ocassion with bengalis worldwide and in Bengal. Alas. No holiday for me this poila baisakh (the first day of the month of Baisakh).
And this morning was sultrier than usual. On top of that I got onto a crowded bus and got no seat for a very long time. There I was sweaty, hot and bothered and hanging on for dear life as the maniac driver (pre-requisitive for all mini bus driver) zoomed and swerved his way through the roads of Kolkata. Until we got stuck in a massive jam on Diamond Harbour Road. On our side of the road, vehicles stretched behind and in front of us as far as the eye could see. And on the other side? One after the other, various processions, boudis and bhadraloks carrying banners, others dressed as Swami Vivekananda, Raja Ram Mohan Roy etc, women doing dandiya for some odd reason, men in pristine white dhoti panjabi! And in midst of all this, autos, taxis, big and small buses, matadors, vans, cycles simply climbed onto the tram tracks in the divider in the middle throwing up a thick blanket of dust.
And then as we moved ahead after a long wait, I saw the other signs of Poila Baisakh: Long queues outside mandirs and equally long ones outside meat shops! Start the new year with puja and end it with a good mangshor jhol (almost a religion in Bengal). Nothing quite like it!
And ofcourse there were the ubiquitous blood donation camps (as important as mangshor jhol it seems). I counted three in the 10 km stretch...must have missed others while I was watching the procession.
Even a long and tiring day at work couldn't stop us from being in a general good mood that is usually associated with all holidays and ofcourse poila baisakh. Subho Naba Barsha to all!
And this morning was sultrier than usual. On top of that I got onto a crowded bus and got no seat for a very long time. There I was sweaty, hot and bothered and hanging on for dear life as the maniac driver (pre-requisitive for all mini bus driver) zoomed and swerved his way through the roads of Kolkata. Until we got stuck in a massive jam on Diamond Harbour Road. On our side of the road, vehicles stretched behind and in front of us as far as the eye could see. And on the other side? One after the other, various processions, boudis and bhadraloks carrying banners, others dressed as Swami Vivekananda, Raja Ram Mohan Roy etc, women doing dandiya for some odd reason, men in pristine white dhoti panjabi! And in midst of all this, autos, taxis, big and small buses, matadors, vans, cycles simply climbed onto the tram tracks in the divider in the middle throwing up a thick blanket of dust.
And then as we moved ahead after a long wait, I saw the other signs of Poila Baisakh: Long queues outside mandirs and equally long ones outside meat shops! Start the new year with puja and end it with a good mangshor jhol (almost a religion in Bengal). Nothing quite like it!
And ofcourse there were the ubiquitous blood donation camps (as important as mangshor jhol it seems). I counted three in the 10 km stretch...must have missed others while I was watching the procession.
Even a long and tiring day at work couldn't stop us from being in a general good mood that is usually associated with all holidays and ofcourse poila baisakh. Subho Naba Barsha to all!
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Dawn at Murguma
Impossible work load, overload in fact. Home-work-home-work monday to saturday and very frequently sunday too. Work took me out of station - last month - to Guwahati twice, Bhubaneswar and Nagpur once each (airport to hotel to meeting to hotel to airport everywhere) and Shantiniketan thrown in (for holi) but alas, with office laptop and deadlines looming large. So I live vicariously, through other's travel for travel's sake. Below are some mindblowing photos of Murguma in Purulia. Murguma means mayurer bari - peacock's home. Photos taken by my cousin B.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Viewpoint
V thought it looked like a mountain...
I thought it looked like a fish.
And both were correct in our own ways and from where we were coming ... Me from Bengal and V from the hills!
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
The Torrid Zone
It has become unbearable. Already. The temperature has been varying between 35 to 39 this past week. And April has only just begun. I look up the exact location of Kolkata on Wikipedia {don't want to do the daab on taal gach trick again} and find that we miss both the tropics Cancer and Capricorn and though we miss Equator as well, we are closer to it than the tropics. However, {aha} we are in what is called the Torrid Zone. Sounds ...umm.. interesting? Well actually that means it is the hottest part of the earth.
The high levels of pollution {my favorite kolkata rant}, combined with high humidity means by the end of the day, we are covered {would go so far as to say, we are actually weighed down by it} a thick layer of grime.
And yet, "sultry tropics" would mean people lounging around in huge cane chairs under slow ceiling fans drinking some thing cool in a tall glass. Must be all those Raj stories. How silly to think romantically of the tropics while sweating it out, with no respite in sight? Afterall, its onlyApril, with May, June, July, August, September, October ahead and the Kolkata summer might stretch into perhaps even November.
For now, I sit back and imagine the coolness this morning, in Gurgaon where there was a a hail storm, and how V must have rushed to get her camera to take the photo and email it to me:
Looks like a fish, doesn't it?
The high levels of pollution {my favorite kolkata rant}, combined with high humidity means by the end of the day, we are covered {would go so far as to say, we are actually weighed down by it} a thick layer of grime.
And yet, "sultry tropics" would mean people lounging around in huge cane chairs under slow ceiling fans drinking some thing cool in a tall glass. Must be all those Raj stories. How silly to think romantically of the tropics while sweating it out, with no respite in sight? Afterall, its onlyApril, with May, June, July, August, September, October ahead and the Kolkata summer might stretch into perhaps even November.
For now, I sit back and imagine the coolness this morning, in Gurgaon where there was a a hail storm, and how V must have rushed to get her camera to take the photo and email it to me:
Looks like a fish, doesn't it? Monday, April 06, 2009
Occupational Hazard
All buses without exception and I mean ALL, slow down at the 'Naba Graha' Mandir on the left of the Kalighat bridge. They don't stop. Just slow down and the conductor or the helper, throws a coin or two which sails out the bus door, over the bridge rails, missing the trees and straight through the mandir door. This must be a regular, routine, daily deed judging by the bulls eye scored by conductor after conductor. I have in the 5 months of commuting to work on this route, never seen a mis throw. I catch a bus between 8:30 and 8:45 - don't know if each bus offers daskshina each time it passes by or just at that time...perhaps by when the purohit is offering morning prayers.
But just imagine if coins came flying from each bus as it passed by ... several every minute .... the amount of dakshina piling up each day. But that's not all I am referring to: I leaned out yesterday and watched the coin arc beautifully inside the mandir narrowly miss the purohit who ducked at the right moment. He did this without missing a mantra! He must be so used to it by now that the chant-duck-chant-duck-chant is now old hat for him! Just another Occupational Hazard.
But just imagine if coins came flying from each bus as it passed by ... several every minute .... the amount of dakshina piling up each day. But that's not all I am referring to: I leaned out yesterday and watched the coin arc beautifully inside the mandir narrowly miss the purohit who ducked at the right moment. He did this without missing a mantra! He must be so used to it by now that the chant-duck-chant-duck-chant is now old hat for him! Just another Occupational Hazard.
Friday, April 03, 2009
Its never too late...
This is a narkal gaach - Coconut tree - and not a taal gaach. We get coconuts (brown ones) and daab (fresh green ones) from it.
Its been there outside my window ... just out of my arm's reach for atleast 18 years and maybe even before we moved in here. And yet I just found out about it now. After my Sunday picnic post ... thru aghast phone call (from my friend and host of the picnic) and other blogger(s) via comment. Well its never too late to learn!
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Maybe it shouldn't have rained in Assam or No rains for Rupali
I left an already-warm-and-humid-at-6:40 am-Kolkata for Assam. Just an hour and half later, I landed at Guwahati. It was cold. Not cool. Cold. It had apparently rained all night or atleast for the better part of the night. I shivered in my Kolkata summer wear and eyed locals clad in sweaters and shawls enviously. And it rained several times during the two days I was there.
Taxi drivers, hotel manager, waiters, auto drivers, colleagues I met all told me that this was the first rains they have had in 8-9 months.
No rains must have been a terrible ordeal for scores including the father of one Rupali Bhuyan living in Tinsukia. However, the rains couldnot have come at a worse time for Rupali. An article in the Guwahati edition of TOI rerported that Rupali, 17 was yoked to a plough and made to plough her father's fields. It was indeed 8-9 months of no rain, her father kept cursing her and saying a boy would have made things different. And the villagers picked it up from there and somehow things took a strange and unfortunate shape: Rupali Bhuyan plouging the fields in place of her father's bullocks would propitiate the rain gods.
And then the skies opened and it rained and how.
Rupali probably hates her miserable lot in life. But she must be hating the rains even more. In superstition riddled India, no amount of explanations, reasonings would convince her family, neighbours and community. It probably never be written off as a coincidence. THAT would be a miracle.
The report also stated that Women's Rights Group has taken this up but the police said they weren't aware of any such happening since no one had registered a complaint.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Voluntary Blood Donation Camp ... Not quite so
There we were inching (milli-metering, more likely) towards Mallickpur through incredibly congested, narrow roads in the HUMID HEAT. Adding to the general misery were raucous announcements from loudspeakers on lamp posts about a "Swecha Rakta Dan Shibir" - blood donation camp organised by a political party.
But apparently things weren't going too well. The announcer kept asking shop owners to come and donate blood or send an assistant (if they were too busy), targetting some shops repeatedly by taking their names and interspersing the name taking with guilt inducing stories:
How so and so had come all the way from Jhargram and donated quite a few pints; some one else from far off Jaggadal (if one were to believe with the sole purpose of donating blood here, in this camp in a bylane at one extreme end of Kolkata) etc. The best story of them all was that of an elderly lady which the announcer relayed, his voice choked with emotion:
- She said to me ...will u take my blood? Will you? - Why not ma? Why not indeed? If you can come all this way, we will be honored to take your blood, (unlike the blood sucking leaches who prefer hiding behind their counters making money and not bothering about their social responsibility). And so on...
It was another life time ago that Netaji inspired countless through his soul stirring "Give me your blood...". But that was an extra ordinary situation and time with extra ordinary men and women.
Even so, one could hardly ever imagine that those same lines would one day be used on Sharma Stores, Mitra Bhandar, Pintu Pharmacy, Bannerjee Bedding etc in a cringe inducing, guilt rousing, cajoling, coaxing way....making the Swechcha Rakta Daan Shibir not quite so voluntary. Hope the blood donation camp was a successful one. His histrionics made us forgot our irritation at the traffic and just as we were getting quite fond of the loud disembodied voice at the mike, the snarl - unsnarled, and we moved on and if truth be told, a wee bit sorry that we couln't hear him anymore.
But apparently things weren't going too well. The announcer kept asking shop owners to come and donate blood or send an assistant (if they were too busy), targetting some shops repeatedly by taking their names and interspersing the name taking with guilt inducing stories:
How so and so had come all the way from Jhargram and donated quite a few pints; some one else from far off Jaggadal (if one were to believe with the sole purpose of donating blood here, in this camp in a bylane at one extreme end of Kolkata) etc. The best story of them all was that of an elderly lady which the announcer relayed, his voice choked with emotion:
- She said to me ...will u take my blood? Will you? - Why not ma? Why not indeed? If you can come all this way, we will be honored to take your blood, (unlike the blood sucking leaches who prefer hiding behind their counters making money and not bothering about their social responsibility). And so on...
It was another life time ago that Netaji inspired countless through his soul stirring "Give me your blood...". But that was an extra ordinary situation and time with extra ordinary men and women.
Even so, one could hardly ever imagine that those same lines would one day be used on Sharma Stores, Mitra Bhandar, Pintu Pharmacy, Bannerjee Bedding etc in a cringe inducing, guilt rousing, cajoling, coaxing way....making the Swechcha Rakta Daan Shibir not quite so voluntary. Hope the blood donation camp was a successful one. His histrionics made us forgot our irritation at the traffic and just as we were getting quite fond of the loud disembodied voice at the mike, the snarl - unsnarled, and we moved on and if truth be told, a wee bit sorry that we couln't hear him anymore.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Enroute
Another HOT and MUGGY day. Another late night at work. And what's more I was one of the last to leave. That spookish feeling I get when switching off all the lights and locking up doors on my way out.
A 2 minute walk through a snaky road brings me to the main road and the bus stop. Half way through, someone pressed a cosmic button and hey presto...a cool breeze swept through and within a second everything became PLEASANT. My clothes were no longer sticking to my body, I and everyone else felt and looked refreshed. And I didn't have to wait. A shuttle auto with 2 passengers waiting. I was the all important passenger number 3, which would induce the auto driver to start [otherwise, they would wait and wait and wait till atleast three passengers turned up]. I could shut my eyes and pretend that I was away in some hill station. I had to shut my ears too - to block the cacaphony of a million vehicles. And ignore million dust particles that the breeze threw up, bigger ones than the record breaking suspended particles in the air . But hey... we make the most of such "cosmic benevolence" rare as they are and don't believe in nitpicking.
An auto change at Taratolla and onto another for Deshopriyo Park and in 30 short [the driver was a grand prix driver in a previous life] and hair raising [zig-zag, whoosh past enormous buses, swanky cars, reckless cyclists, jay walkers] minutes later, I could see the D'park street signal - my destination, when the air filled [redolent is the right word] with the marvellous fragrance of rajnigandha from the many flower stalls lining the roads in Lake Market. MARVELLOUS.
A 2 minute walk through a snaky road brings me to the main road and the bus stop. Half way through, someone pressed a cosmic button and hey presto...a cool breeze swept through and within a second everything became PLEASANT. My clothes were no longer sticking to my body, I and everyone else felt and looked refreshed. And I didn't have to wait. A shuttle auto with 2 passengers waiting. I was the all important passenger number 3, which would induce the auto driver to start [otherwise, they would wait and wait and wait till atleast three passengers turned up]. I could shut my eyes and pretend that I was away in some hill station. I had to shut my ears too - to block the cacaphony of a million vehicles. And ignore million dust particles that the breeze threw up, bigger ones than the record breaking suspended particles in the air . But hey... we make the most of such "cosmic benevolence" rare as they are and don't believe in nitpicking.
An auto change at Taratolla and onto another for Deshopriyo Park and in 30 short [the driver was a grand prix driver in a previous life] and hair raising [zig-zag, whoosh past enormous buses, swanky cars, reckless cyclists, jay walkers] minutes later, I could see the D'park street signal - my destination, when the air filled [redolent is the right word] with the marvellous fragrance of rajnigandha from the many flower stalls lining the roads in Lake Market. MARVELLOUS.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Shantiniketan
The names says it all. It really is the abode of peace - at least in my personal experience. Went there last 7 years ago. 'It's not the same any more'. 'Has changed (and for the worse)', etc., comments fly. But there I was coming in from Assam (work) late on Monday night and packed and ready early next morning for Shantiniketan. I was tired. It was going to be HOT. But having said yes to the trip long back, couldn't back out. Atleast I would spend two days in company of friends I rarely get to meet nowadays. But as it turned out...fortune favours the bold! As our Sumo crammed with 8 of us + the driver + assorted bags, one wheelchair to boot...sped out of Kolkata ... the sun sort of didn't rise despite it being nearly 7:00 am. The skies darkened further and a cool breeze made us shiver (we were all of us in our most comfortable, sleeveless, worse for wear Kolkata summer wear). Ah! Kothai jeno brishti porchay.
A short stop at Shaktigarh for a quick breakfast of kochuri, aloor tarkari and ofcourse the famous langcha - took me longer to read the names of all the langcha shops - Langcha Mahal, Langcha Kutir, Langcha dham, langcha stop, langcha bhavan, langcha bhuvan, Langcha godam, Langcha ghar...and ofcourse each had one unique claim to fame - Mithun Chakraborty ate here, Mahanayak Uttam Kumar ate there, here was Abhijeet smiling and there was Subhash Chakraborty in person at Langcha Mahal entourage, guards et al (on our way back).
And then we entered Birbhum. I would have known it even without the mileposts. The scenery changes completely. Flat wide expanse of bare fields like blond brush, ...the dusty dusky green in the distance, beautiful mud huts, red earth and ofcourse, I don't quite know I am filled with glee and there I am sitting at the back of the cramped sumo humming...what else - gram chara oi ranga matir poth!
And then two days of bliss. Soaking in that special variety of shanti that one gets there. Still pools, a few hens, bleating goats there, boys and girls on cycles...the still timeless quality in the air, the sated contentment, winding ranga matir path, everything seems to be posing for a gigantic, real life tableaux and I can't get enough of it.
Despite the physical weariness, mentally, I am fully re-charged.
A short stop at Shaktigarh for a quick breakfast of kochuri, aloor tarkari and ofcourse the famous langcha - took me longer to read the names of all the langcha shops - Langcha Mahal, Langcha Kutir, Langcha dham, langcha stop, langcha bhavan, langcha bhuvan, Langcha godam, Langcha ghar...and ofcourse each had one unique claim to fame - Mithun Chakraborty ate here, Mahanayak Uttam Kumar ate there, here was Abhijeet smiling and there was Subhash Chakraborty in person at Langcha Mahal entourage, guards et al (on our way back).
And then we entered Birbhum. I would have known it even without the mileposts. The scenery changes completely. Flat wide expanse of bare fields like blond brush, ...the dusty dusky green in the distance, beautiful mud huts, red earth and ofcourse, I don't quite know I am filled with glee and there I am sitting at the back of the cramped sumo humming...what else - gram chara oi ranga matir poth!
And then two days of bliss. Soaking in that special variety of shanti that one gets there. Still pools, a few hens, bleating goats there, boys and girls on cycles...the still timeless quality in the air, the sated contentment, winding ranga matir path, everything seems to be posing for a gigantic, real life tableaux and I can't get enough of it.
Despite the physical weariness, mentally, I am fully re-charged.
Monday, February 16, 2009
Sunday Picnic
Finally, it was over. The 20th year celebrations of the NGO where I work. It was exhausting. Draining. And I wanted to spend Sunday in a way I never- ever have, except perhaps when I was down with fever - in bed. I did a good job of it too, till upto 10am. When I jumped up and rang a friend. He asked me to come over within an hour and we (he, his daughter and moi) could then go to a picnic at Mallickpur. His in-laws were having a picnic and his wife had gone on ahead to help with the cooking.
A picnic. Ah! That sounded nice. Haven't been to one in ... maybe... 15 years or is it more like 20. Atleast not those ones where we go with madurs to laze on and hata, khunti and big dekchis and people do the actual cooking there itself! How I love those (as long as I don't have to do the cooking or even the jogar). And I had heard about the home at Mallickpur. Might be physically tiring but mentally, it would be such a break. No more presentations, map litho paper, wiro binding, logos and font size and proof reading (I had to develop and print a bunch of stuff for the 20th year programme).
We inched slowly towards our destination through incredibly congested and narrow roads and not to mention bright hot sun. And to top it all, there was this huge blood donation camp organised by TMC and the entire proceedings were being announced over loudspeakers attached to lamp posts.
And then suddenly, KD took a left turn and turned into a narrow lane (too narrow it seemed to me, for his large car) and the dirty noisy road vanished. The single road snaked narrowly through lush green foliage, past huts and thatched roofs and kochuri pana filled ponds and then stopped at our destination. A rambling two storeyed house, looking very much like an ordinary old small-town home...not much thought given to architechture or spacing, just built in an incredibly haphazard space wasting way (well that was not a drawback since space was enormous). And then, we stepped through the kitchen and onto the back and viola! The huge space behind dotted by tall 'taal gaach', eucalyptus, banana, papaya and host of other trees I cant name, was filled with elderly men and women. Some on chairs, others on madurs by another large kochuri pana filled pond and a sudden jungle of bamboos leaning way over it! And the cooking? Well there were four young men cooking with large kadais, hatas, khuntis and a gigantic boti - obvioulsy there was going to be lots of fish on the menu.
My friend's father in law was the 1st batch of Narendrapur Ramkrishna Mission and he was having an old boys picnic. It was so nice to see them all together. We had missed breakfast: Peas - freshly shelled, slices of coconut and pakoras. But lunch time came quickly and the cooks laid out tables, spread table clothes and served us food. First the men (to be honest, they wanted the ladies to eat first...but most were lolling on the madur and didnt want to get up) sat at the tables and all of them in unison, said their daily prayer from some 45-50 years ago at RKM! It was so sweet.
And then came our turn with the ladies . The menu: Polao, thick finger chips, begun bhaja (fried brinjal) sliced vertically complete with tail, topshe fish fry, Rui fish kalia and a navratan korma, chutney & the obligatory fried papad and payesh (kheer) and although there was no paan, we were served paan masala in small packets. And we sat under the mild sun fitered through the trees, eating al fresco with the odd dried leaf falling on us, a twitter here, a cheep-cheep there, a dog barking in distance...so serene, so placid...
And did I mention, there was a man there with a 'da' ( large knife). He had come in early and climbed the various 'taal' trees and had got an enormous amount of daab. And so we drank daab water instead of water!
And then came the best part. Surrounded by those beautiful trees, no hint of the hot sun, a cool breeze blowing and best of all, no horns, no noisy city ruckus...under a tin roof, on a coir mattress on a hard wood khaat, a long undisturbed full-bellied siesta! I woke up so refreshed, so renewed that I swear I felt years younger...sprightly infact!
The old boys association in between all this eating and lolling around, conducted their association meeting and have fixed up their next meet and venue and I am sure, the menu. But it's three months away. I have time yet to find out about it and gate crash once again. Till then let me savour this unexpected treat as I bump along in autos, choking in the fumes of 'kaata tel' (Adulterated fuel) in city polluto.
[It's never too late to learn and I stand corrected: Taal grows on Taal gach and Daab and narkal grown on narkal gaach or Coconut trees].
A picnic. Ah! That sounded nice. Haven't been to one in ... maybe... 15 years or is it more like 20. Atleast not those ones where we go with madurs to laze on and hata, khunti and big dekchis and people do the actual cooking there itself! How I love those (as long as I don't have to do the cooking or even the jogar). And I had heard about the home at Mallickpur. Might be physically tiring but mentally, it would be such a break. No more presentations, map litho paper, wiro binding, logos and font size and proof reading (I had to develop and print a bunch of stuff for the 20th year programme).
We inched slowly towards our destination through incredibly congested and narrow roads and not to mention bright hot sun. And to top it all, there was this huge blood donation camp organised by TMC and the entire proceedings were being announced over loudspeakers attached to lamp posts.
And then suddenly, KD took a left turn and turned into a narrow lane (too narrow it seemed to me, for his large car) and the dirty noisy road vanished. The single road snaked narrowly through lush green foliage, past huts and thatched roofs and kochuri pana filled ponds and then stopped at our destination. A rambling two storeyed house, looking very much like an ordinary old small-town home...not much thought given to architechture or spacing, just built in an incredibly haphazard space wasting way (well that was not a drawback since space was enormous). And then, we stepped through the kitchen and onto the back and viola! The huge space behind dotted by tall 'taal gaach', eucalyptus, banana, papaya and host of other trees I cant name, was filled with elderly men and women. Some on chairs, others on madurs by another large kochuri pana filled pond and a sudden jungle of bamboos leaning way over it! And the cooking? Well there were four young men cooking with large kadais, hatas, khuntis and a gigantic boti - obvioulsy there was going to be lots of fish on the menu.
My friend's father in law was the 1st batch of Narendrapur Ramkrishna Mission and he was having an old boys picnic. It was so nice to see them all together. We had missed breakfast: Peas - freshly shelled, slices of coconut and pakoras. But lunch time came quickly and the cooks laid out tables, spread table clothes and served us food. First the men (to be honest, they wanted the ladies to eat first...but most were lolling on the madur and didnt want to get up) sat at the tables and all of them in unison, said their daily prayer from some 45-50 years ago at RKM! It was so sweet.
And then came our turn with the ladies . The menu: Polao, thick finger chips, begun bhaja (fried brinjal) sliced vertically complete with tail, topshe fish fry, Rui fish kalia and a navratan korma, chutney & the obligatory fried papad and payesh (kheer) and although there was no paan, we were served paan masala in small packets. And we sat under the mild sun fitered through the trees, eating al fresco with the odd dried leaf falling on us, a twitter here, a cheep-cheep there, a dog barking in distance...so serene, so placid...
And did I mention, there was a man there with a 'da' ( large knife). He had come in early and climbed the various 'taal' trees and had got an enormous amount of daab. And so we drank daab water instead of water!
And then came the best part. Surrounded by those beautiful trees, no hint of the hot sun, a cool breeze blowing and best of all, no horns, no noisy city ruckus...under a tin roof, on a coir mattress on a hard wood khaat, a long undisturbed full-bellied siesta! I woke up so refreshed, so renewed that I swear I felt years younger...sprightly infact!
The old boys association in between all this eating and lolling around, conducted their association meeting and have fixed up their next meet and venue and I am sure, the menu. But it's three months away. I have time yet to find out about it and gate crash once again. Till then let me savour this unexpected treat as I bump along in autos, choking in the fumes of 'kaata tel' (Adulterated fuel) in city polluto.
[It's never too late to learn and I stand corrected: Taal grows on Taal gach and Daab and narkal grown on narkal gaach or Coconut trees].
Sunday, February 08, 2009
Kolkata Book Fair 2009
After an 8 year gap, I made it to the Kolkata Boi Mela yesterday. Replete with old memories of multiple visits to this most wonderful mela, alone, with friends, browsing, buying, breathing books (and dust thown up by a million feet), long queues for tickets, little magazine sellers earnestly plying their books....Ah! [And the ISKON cake shop where being allergic to eggs, I asked if the cakes were eggy and scandalised the swamiji at the counter, who put his hand to his ears and said, what else, but "Krishna, Krishna"]!
I finally found the time to visit the fair yesterday, the penultimate day, and was dreading the last minute crush [I adviced an american visitor to our office to attend the mela not only for all things bookish but to experience real life what a crush is]. The venue was not the only thing which had changed, as I found out.
I went in, visited a few stalls, got lucky within half an hour .... in that I found a relatively smaller and emptier stall where I picked up 7 books and the 8th in another 5 minutes...a quick dekho and was out in maybe 45 minutes. And then I walked past the ITC Sonar Bangla via it's service road, to the car park guided politely by several volunteers, policemen, attendants....
Imagine the scale? Lakhs and lakhs of visitors per day...lakhs of cars, at the crossing of 2 rather busy roads and that too by Kolkata standards [and maddening by any other country standard], unruly Bengali crowd [me included...a policeman ticked me off for walking on the road and told me to hurry up to the entrance to the walkaway parallel to the road and bordered by a bamboo fence. As soon as I got a little away from him, I sneaked in through the fence and straight to the ticket counter in front of me, instead of queuing up the mile long walkaway and felt rather pleased with myself instead of feeling ashamed]. The point I am trying to make is that being an average Bengali, am sure there are several queue jumpers / cutters like me and yet a battalion of policemen and attendant, alert keeping things going smoothly and not sleeping on the job ... and yet another horde of attendant controlling the car park. Phew!
Somethings ofcourse don't change. The dust...bhaiya [our driver] at the wheel and me on the back seat, coughed in tandem all the way back home!
And now, the dilemma, as always: Which book to begin with? I have them spread out in front of me....while I savour the thought of reading them, after I solve the problem of order of reading, ofcourse.
And the image above is this year's theme: Scotland and apparently Alexander McCall Smith was there as chief guest. Did want to go meet him and perhaps have a small adda about Mma Precious Ramotswe of the No.1 Ladies Detective Agency....but the queue outside the Scottish Pavilion was a bit daunting even for a seasoned Kolkattan like me. Another time, Mr. Smith.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
A bandhday
Today 22nd, was another bandh. 23rd is Netaji’s Birthday, a holiday. 24th is Saturday and the weekend for many, a holiday for lucky people (in my office where we work on Saturdays too) whose leave applications were accepted, 25th is Sunday and 26th Republic day.
I just wanted to point out the really long weekend. Which meant it was important to figure out the logistics of coming in to work today, bandh notwithstanding. Luckily for me, I have an aunt who live close to work and my cuzz dropped me off this morning on his bike. And this meant I got to feel the ‘winter’ – it was shivery cold here this morning whereas at home, it’s almost like winter and yet not quite (although its only 15 km or so away…yes – pollution). I had told him to drive his bike really slow – he is a rash driver – and I am getting old and more afraid of my mortal state. The roads were empty. Mostly a few bikes and cycles and empty autos. He drove so steadily and slowly that soon, cycles were over taking us! Anyhow, reached office uneventfully (thankgod) which means no road blockage, no ‘untoward' incidents like pelting of stones, burning buses and unruly mobs.
It was fun to see who made it and who couldn’t and almost everyone had a story to tell about their commute this morning. And then there were those (who lived really close but wanted to take a day off) who called up the person who lived the farthest off – for moral support – surely he or she living so far away can’t come in and somehow my excuse of not coming in will get support – but alas, those living farthest did come in and those living closest were absent. All in all, it was a normal working day.
Also there were guests who had come in for some training session were leaving today. They had to be taken to the airport before the bandh was over and so as a safety measure we were told that we should have a sign on the car saying any one of the following: Delegates, Emergency etc. The car finally went out with loads of signs: Disability + Emergency + Delegates and the icing on the cake was a sign on the wind shield “Apod Kalin Service”! This was a typo …The sign should have read Apot Kalin which meant emergency and not Apod which meant ‘nuisance’!! Thankgod the guests couldn’t read bangla. Ofcourse the sign was changed before the car left.
Similar discussions and phone calls before we left for our homes – whether the bandh was over, were buses running, auto plying, was there any jhamela anywhere…and all of us reached home safely, as usual, through empty roads but crowded buses. Well that’s it then, isn’t it for the bandh story. Oh yes…it’s the first bandh in West Bengal for the year 2009.
Some managed to not go to work, others managed to; Daily wagers lost one day's wage, SUCI said the bandh was a total success, Oppositions said it was a total failure...it does not merely sound familiar, it is infact cliched, tired as can be, stale and infact it doesn't sound like anything, anymore and if it does, we dont hear it. It's just another day: you know, Monday, Tuesday,….Sunday, Bandh day.
I just wanted to point out the really long weekend. Which meant it was important to figure out the logistics of coming in to work today, bandh notwithstanding. Luckily for me, I have an aunt who live close to work and my cuzz dropped me off this morning on his bike. And this meant I got to feel the ‘winter’ – it was shivery cold here this morning whereas at home, it’s almost like winter and yet not quite (although its only 15 km or so away…yes – pollution). I had told him to drive his bike really slow – he is a rash driver – and I am getting old and more afraid of my mortal state. The roads were empty. Mostly a few bikes and cycles and empty autos. He drove so steadily and slowly that soon, cycles were over taking us! Anyhow, reached office uneventfully (thankgod) which means no road blockage, no ‘untoward' incidents like pelting of stones, burning buses and unruly mobs.
It was fun to see who made it and who couldn’t and almost everyone had a story to tell about their commute this morning. And then there were those (who lived really close but wanted to take a day off) who called up the person who lived the farthest off – for moral support – surely he or she living so far away can’t come in and somehow my excuse of not coming in will get support – but alas, those living farthest did come in and those living closest were absent. All in all, it was a normal working day.
Also there were guests who had come in for some training session were leaving today. They had to be taken to the airport before the bandh was over and so as a safety measure we were told that we should have a sign on the car saying any one of the following: Delegates, Emergency etc. The car finally went out with loads of signs: Disability + Emergency + Delegates and the icing on the cake was a sign on the wind shield “Apod Kalin Service”! This was a typo …The sign should have read Apot Kalin which meant emergency and not Apod which meant ‘nuisance’!! Thankgod the guests couldn’t read bangla. Ofcourse the sign was changed before the car left.
Similar discussions and phone calls before we left for our homes – whether the bandh was over, were buses running, auto plying, was there any jhamela anywhere…and all of us reached home safely, as usual, through empty roads but crowded buses. Well that’s it then, isn’t it for the bandh story. Oh yes…it’s the first bandh in West Bengal for the year 2009.
Some managed to not go to work, others managed to; Daily wagers lost one day's wage, SUCI said the bandh was a total success, Oppositions said it was a total failure...it does not merely sound familiar, it is infact cliched, tired as can be, stale and infact it doesn't sound like anything, anymore and if it does, we dont hear it. It's just another day: you know, Monday, Tuesday,….Sunday, Bandh day.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Taxi, Taxi
I have to admit that the bright yellow of the taxi with the blue stripe, does add, if nothing else, a bright splash of colour to this otherwise dreary drab polluted and most beloved city of mine.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
A walk in the park
It's been months since I last went for an evening walk. Just as I was getting very serious about them, I landed a job with a 6 day work week and that was that. I found some free time this Sunday evening and so I went to dear old Maddox Square. Having sweated it out in summer (trying to lose those unwanted pounds that had piled on), I thought winter would be pleasant.
Like an old hand (at walking that is), I sauntered in around 5:30pm. Some known faces, some new ones. Walkers slow, fast & furious. Ah! It felt nice. The paths were all beautifully paved - thanks to the annual overhaul for the Durga Pujas.
Two games of football in the centre green (not so green and bare in patches), a dad showing (off) his remote controlled helicopter more to others than his kid. A few kids burning scrap papers that had collected from the annual sports of a school held in the morning. Same place, same people, doing the same things (more or less) except smoky wintry atmosphere and of course winter clothes: sweaters, shawls, mufflers et al to remind us that this was - er...winter.
Good thing that - reminding us of it being winter. Otherwise one would think it was spring, in January. Very nice.
PS - Hope this does not portend a blistering summer.
Like an old hand (at walking that is), I sauntered in around 5:30pm. Some known faces, some new ones. Walkers slow, fast & furious. Ah! It felt nice. The paths were all beautifully paved - thanks to the annual overhaul for the Durga Pujas.
Two games of football in the centre green (not so green and bare in patches), a dad showing (off) his remote controlled helicopter more to others than his kid. A few kids burning scrap papers that had collected from the annual sports of a school held in the morning. Same place, same people, doing the same things (more or less) except smoky wintry atmosphere and of course winter clothes: sweaters, shawls, mufflers et al to remind us that this was - er...winter.
Good thing that - reminding us of it being winter. Otherwise one would think it was spring, in January. Very nice.
PS - Hope this does not portend a blistering summer.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Through a smog, hazily
Smog does have its advantages afterall. Victoria Memorial does look dreamy and nice! [Instead of a cold empty marble, OTT relic of the Raj].
Friday, January 09, 2009
Almost made it to the list...
When I saw the Top 10 most polluted places on Listverse I kept expecting Calcutta to crop up as I scrolled down the list in reverse order. India was there on the list twice - Sukinda (Hexavalent chromium and other metals) and Vapi (Chemicals and heavy metals). Calcutta however, didn't make the list.
I wasn't too convinced. I mean, I am living here and know what it is like. Feel vindicated today (vindication ruined somewhat by coughing and gasping and a heavy choking feeling in my lungs) by a report in a daily which said that Behala Chowrasta - epicentre of 6 routes and 1500 autos plying was the most polluted crossing in Calcutta. And these are the controversial two stroke autos (major pollutants). At a height of 15 feet, the Respirable particulate matter (RPM) is 115 micrograms per cubic meter. National upper limit is 60.
Dunlop is 110, Tollygunje is 109 - all merrily adding to pollution count in Calcutta.
Applause! for being top most in something, anything and for me and a million others who survive despite it!
And what with only 8 autos banned since the ban on two stroke autos started on January 1, 2009, this means, there are 66910 still left merrily increasing the RPM. Political parties are still hemming and hawing...first ruling party imposes the ban. Opposition opposes it (at the fag end and just before the ban is to begin) and ruling party wakes up to "what will happen to rozi roti of the two stroke auto drivers" on first day of the ban! [Yet another normal democratic political excercise in West Bengal...more or less follows the same pattern only issues vary, opposer and proposer vary].
And Listverse...Calcutta might be making your list soon...hope I live to see it (as I cross Behala Chowrasta everyday and RPM is responsible for irreversible lung damage)!
I wasn't too convinced. I mean, I am living here and know what it is like. Feel vindicated today (vindication ruined somewhat by coughing and gasping and a heavy choking feeling in my lungs) by a report in a daily which said that Behala Chowrasta - epicentre of 6 routes and 1500 autos plying was the most polluted crossing in Calcutta. And these are the controversial two stroke autos (major pollutants). At a height of 15 feet, the Respirable particulate matter (RPM) is 115 micrograms per cubic meter. National upper limit is 60.
Dunlop is 110, Tollygunje is 109 - all merrily adding to pollution count in Calcutta.
Applause! for being top most in something, anything and for me and a million others who survive despite it!
And what with only 8 autos banned since the ban on two stroke autos started on January 1, 2009, this means, there are 66910 still left merrily increasing the RPM. Political parties are still hemming and hawing...first ruling party imposes the ban. Opposition opposes it (at the fag end and just before the ban is to begin) and ruling party wakes up to "what will happen to rozi roti of the two stroke auto drivers" on first day of the ban! [Yet another normal democratic political excercise in West Bengal...more or less follows the same pattern only issues vary, opposer and proposer vary].
And Listverse...Calcutta might be making your list soon...hope I live to see it (as I cross Behala Chowrasta everyday and RPM is responsible for irreversible lung damage)!
Monday, January 05, 2009
Louis Braille birth bicentennary
January 4th 2009 was the birth centennary of Louis Braille.
Another anniversary which would have come and gone for visually un-impaired (In light of this post, "sighted" sounds incorrect) people like me. I saw it on the news and read about it. And my visually impaired (VI) colleague had mentioned that he would be taking part in a procession which would incidentally start quite close to my home, on Sunday. I did toy with the idea of joining it. But then what with the now on- now off auto ban and Hazra more being the nerve centre (a huge auto depot and close proximity to TMC chief Ms. Bannerjee's home), I decided against. The rally did happen, peacefully and some 700 people had participated and the procession ended at Rabindra Sadan.
This morning, I saw him standing near the large room usually used for training and workshops. "Can I help you with something?". I have this urge to help him although he is very self sufficient and makes the long commute from home and back alone, everyday. Infact, it's me who needs frequent help in navigating the crazy traffic on Kolkata roads.
"Actually, I am telling everyone (who passes by) that we - he and RS the other VI collegue - are holding a small exhibition of our Braille Unit (the NGO where I work is probably the only NGO with a braille printing unit, atleast in this part of India) on the ocassion of Louis Braille's bicentennary. The exhibition consisted of a variety of tools and equipments, a good majority of which he had made himeself and now are available in the market were laid out on tables. The rest of the staff went around and asked questions about each equipment and its usage. Most of them were teaching materials. Braille alphabet in bengali and english using bindis; Set squares, protractor and even a compass, clock, abacus etc adapted for the VI. There was a set of braille playing cards. Identical to normal ones except the card - say four of hearts written in braille in a corner. We had great fun taking out cards at random and showing them to S and each time, he answered correctly: he is fluent in braille! One of the older staff told me to stop testing him. Afterall, he made the set. "We needed S to make a fourth for playing 29 (a game quite similar to bridge)!!
The exhibition was an eye-opener, literally. Not very different from other people am I? I didn't even remember. And that despite spending the best part of the last two months helping to develop various materials which talk about Inclusion of PWDs (people with disabilities) all the time. Inclusion and not assistance.
Another anniversary which would have come and gone for visually un-impaired (In light of this post, "sighted" sounds incorrect) people like me. I saw it on the news and read about it. And my visually impaired (VI) colleague had mentioned that he would be taking part in a procession which would incidentally start quite close to my home, on Sunday. I did toy with the idea of joining it. But then what with the now on- now off auto ban and Hazra more being the nerve centre (a huge auto depot and close proximity to TMC chief Ms. Bannerjee's home), I decided against. The rally did happen, peacefully and some 700 people had participated and the procession ended at Rabindra Sadan.
This morning, I saw him standing near the large room usually used for training and workshops. "Can I help you with something?". I have this urge to help him although he is very self sufficient and makes the long commute from home and back alone, everyday. Infact, it's me who needs frequent help in navigating the crazy traffic on Kolkata roads.
"Actually, I am telling everyone (who passes by) that we - he and RS the other VI collegue - are holding a small exhibition of our Braille Unit (the NGO where I work is probably the only NGO with a braille printing unit, atleast in this part of India) on the ocassion of Louis Braille's bicentennary. The exhibition consisted of a variety of tools and equipments, a good majority of which he had made himeself and now are available in the market were laid out on tables. The rest of the staff went around and asked questions about each equipment and its usage. Most of them were teaching materials. Braille alphabet in bengali and english using bindis; Set squares, protractor and even a compass, clock, abacus etc adapted for the VI. There was a set of braille playing cards. Identical to normal ones except the card - say four of hearts written in braille in a corner. We had great fun taking out cards at random and showing them to S and each time, he answered correctly: he is fluent in braille! One of the older staff told me to stop testing him. Afterall, he made the set. "We needed S to make a fourth for playing 29 (a game quite similar to bridge)!!
The exhibition was an eye-opener, literally. Not very different from other people am I? I didn't even remember. And that despite spending the best part of the last two months helping to develop various materials which talk about Inclusion of PWDs (people with disabilities) all the time. Inclusion and not assistance.
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Shocked about lock-up
There is a first time for everything. Recently, I had to go to a police station to get permission for holding a fair for the NGO I am currently working for. So far, my familiarity of police stations have been limited to films (both Hindi and English - Bengali cops and robber films I avoid because you need a cast iron stomach and more to digest those). How many times have I seen interiors of jails, corrupt cops, seasoned criminals, seemy side of underworld, dons, don’s den’s and of course Mona darling - in films ofcourse.
Even then, I didnt think much about it. When I arrived there, the PS was a hive of activity. There were people outside the PS, inside the compound, in the reception and in front of the Duty Officer. While waiting for my turn, I noticed vertical bars in the wall in a corridor. Inside, there were a few men sitting on a thick cloth, on a dirty floor, surrounded by grimy walls. Above the door was a small board with “Men’s Lock-up”. Criminals? What is the correct word? Regular men that one might meet on the road, everyday. Young, old, fat and thin. I found it shocking. Not the men themselves...but the lock - up, people who got caught for a variety of reasons, handcuffs, police files, photos, aliases, courts and bail. (Middle class morality).
Most of them were quite blasé about being behind bars. They were not looking dejected or depressed, weeping or animated. Suddenly, some one shouted for one of the prisoners to be brought out. An armed constable unlocked the bolt. The shutter was a long one which went into a hole in the adjacent wall and the lock was fitted in side a small alcove built in the wall, so no one from within could have easy access to it (filmy style). A scruffy young man with blond highlights in his equally scruffy hair came out and was taken some where inside the precinct. When I asked to meet the OC, I was told to wait since the OC was interrogating. Could I return after an hour? Interrogation. Horror and excitement is what I felt. (Ofcourse it could be normal procedure for small stuff ... but I thought about mafia and gun running or drugs smuggling).
I returned after an hour to find the precinct more crowded than before and this time full of really enormous police men, all striding around and shouting (and what loud voices). It was lunch time. A man was sliding aluminum plates of rice, dal and one sabzi through the gap between the grill and the floor of the lock-up. The prisoners slid the empty plates, post lunch. A large 20 litre bottle was kept within reach just outside the grill. They tilted the bottle and poured water into a glass kept on top of the bottle.
Just as I was about to ask if the OC was free, we heard a really loud voice shouting out that the “Ashami” were to be taken to the court. And sure enough, a van with grilled doors was backed into the precinct and suddenly, all the prisoners, some 6 men and one woman were taken out in a single line, each held firmly by the arm by a gigantic policeman. The solitary woman in a yellow salwar kameez, green shawl and blue high heels was led by a policewoman. I wanted to ask what the woman was in for. But seeing the police women (in plain clothes...read that as ordinary printed cotton sarees), I didn’t dare. I shrank to one side and tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible (not an easy task that since I am taller than the average Bengali – man or woman)! I kept imagining that a car would come screeching and people with firearms would rush out, lob a tear gas and make off with one of the ashami in the ensuing chaos. Nothing like that happened of course. The prisoners were loaded into the van and it made off as did the OC in a spanking new Maruti Gpysy with a red sire on top. And the PS looked quite empty. The people left behind, I realized were families of those taken to the Alipore court. There was the wife and a tiny child not more than 4 years old – of the chap with the blond highlights – the one who was interrogated. She looked more resigned than worried and not making eye contact with anyone who were looking curiously at her and there were a few (including me).
I felt tremendously sad for her. How different it must be for her; She not only has to live with her husband in lock-up and interrogations and courts, she also has to deal with others who like me visit PS's via films and is agog, shocked, horrified and all sorts of stupid genteel things, when they come in contact with it in real life.
PS – The Duty officer was quite cordial and apologetic about the delay and the necessary permissions were granted quite quickly.
Even then, I didnt think much about it. When I arrived there, the PS was a hive of activity. There were people outside the PS, inside the compound, in the reception and in front of the Duty Officer. While waiting for my turn, I noticed vertical bars in the wall in a corridor. Inside, there were a few men sitting on a thick cloth, on a dirty floor, surrounded by grimy walls. Above the door was a small board with “Men’s Lock-up”. Criminals? What is the correct word? Regular men that one might meet on the road, everyday. Young, old, fat and thin. I found it shocking. Not the men themselves...but the lock - up, people who got caught for a variety of reasons, handcuffs, police files, photos, aliases, courts and bail. (Middle class morality).
Most of them were quite blasé about being behind bars. They were not looking dejected or depressed, weeping or animated. Suddenly, some one shouted for one of the prisoners to be brought out. An armed constable unlocked the bolt. The shutter was a long one which went into a hole in the adjacent wall and the lock was fitted in side a small alcove built in the wall, so no one from within could have easy access to it (filmy style). A scruffy young man with blond highlights in his equally scruffy hair came out and was taken some where inside the precinct. When I asked to meet the OC, I was told to wait since the OC was interrogating. Could I return after an hour? Interrogation. Horror and excitement is what I felt. (Ofcourse it could be normal procedure for small stuff ... but I thought about mafia and gun running or drugs smuggling).
I returned after an hour to find the precinct more crowded than before and this time full of really enormous police men, all striding around and shouting (and what loud voices). It was lunch time. A man was sliding aluminum plates of rice, dal and one sabzi through the gap between the grill and the floor of the lock-up. The prisoners slid the empty plates, post lunch. A large 20 litre bottle was kept within reach just outside the grill. They tilted the bottle and poured water into a glass kept on top of the bottle.
Just as I was about to ask if the OC was free, we heard a really loud voice shouting out that the “Ashami” were to be taken to the court. And sure enough, a van with grilled doors was backed into the precinct and suddenly, all the prisoners, some 6 men and one woman were taken out in a single line, each held firmly by the arm by a gigantic policeman. The solitary woman in a yellow salwar kameez, green shawl and blue high heels was led by a policewoman. I wanted to ask what the woman was in for. But seeing the police women (in plain clothes...read that as ordinary printed cotton sarees), I didn’t dare. I shrank to one side and tried to make myself as inconspicuous as possible (not an easy task that since I am taller than the average Bengali – man or woman)! I kept imagining that a car would come screeching and people with firearms would rush out, lob a tear gas and make off with one of the ashami in the ensuing chaos. Nothing like that happened of course. The prisoners were loaded into the van and it made off as did the OC in a spanking new Maruti Gpysy with a red sire on top. And the PS looked quite empty. The people left behind, I realized were families of those taken to the Alipore court. There was the wife and a tiny child not more than 4 years old – of the chap with the blond highlights – the one who was interrogated. She looked more resigned than worried and not making eye contact with anyone who were looking curiously at her and there were a few (including me).
I felt tremendously sad for her. How different it must be for her; She not only has to live with her husband in lock-up and interrogations and courts, she also has to deal with others who like me visit PS's via films and is agog, shocked, horrified and all sorts of stupid genteel things, when they come in contact with it in real life.
PS – The Duty officer was quite cordial and apologetic about the delay and the necessary permissions were granted quite quickly.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
The brighter side of a bus strike
Today, there was a private bus strike in West Bengal. (In protest of section 304 A on drivers involved in fatal accidents. Section 304A is non-bailable).
Luckily for me, the long (about 45 minutes) commute to my place of work has lots of shuttle autos plying. I usually avoid these since they are much lower than buses and whenever they are stuck at a signal or in the middle of a jam, passengers in the auto end up choking on the exhausts fumes of buses lined up on either side of the auto. Throat and lungs seem to be on fire, eyes water, especially in the evening. Today I took the first auto which came along and reached home faster without stopping at any jams. But I did have to walk from deshopriyo park to our home (about two stops for buses). It was good exercise and above all, the thing to cheer about was...less pollution. Afterall, nearly 22,000 buses were off the road including 12,000 in Kolkata.
I was one of the luckier ones no doubt. Many have had to face enormous difficulties (buses are so much cheaper than autos and do not ply on many routes)....but the idea of a fractionally less smoggier Kolkata, calls for CELEBRATIONS!
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Sunday kay Sunday
If it is sunday, it has to be in Kolkata. For me.
That special combination of laziness, contentment and mellow-ness.
I went out for a quick errand: tickets for a play. Got great seats and bonus: a good soak in the sunday pre-lunch air of kolkata.
There was hardly any traffic on the road, by Kolkata standards that is. It would constitute a major traffic jam in some countries though. Could hardly recognise Rashbehari avenue. Despite the red signal, a bus lumbered by, a man slow cycled and a couple ambled past. And nobody complained, no horns blared. No one going any where in particular, and not with any purpose. Oh the sheer bliss of it all.
Houses snoozed, sighed contentedly, squat and tall, happy on lazy roads which on any other day would be narrow, over crowded, dirty, full of rubbish etc. (No, its not a touch of the sun. I am not making it up).
Even the constant humidity didnt feel opressive. The sun too was on sunday behaviour, shining on and off. And off home for that all important sunday lunch: mangshor jhol - Goat meat curry. Ah!
That special combination of laziness, contentment and mellow-ness.
I went out for a quick errand: tickets for a play. Got great seats and bonus: a good soak in the sunday pre-lunch air of kolkata.
There was hardly any traffic on the road, by Kolkata standards that is. It would constitute a major traffic jam in some countries though. Could hardly recognise Rashbehari avenue. Despite the red signal, a bus lumbered by, a man slow cycled and a couple ambled past. And nobody complained, no horns blared. No one going any where in particular, and not with any purpose. Oh the sheer bliss of it all.
Houses snoozed, sighed contentedly, squat and tall, happy on lazy roads which on any other day would be narrow, over crowded, dirty, full of rubbish etc. (No, its not a touch of the sun. I am not making it up).
Even the constant humidity didnt feel opressive. The sun too was on sunday behaviour, shining on and off. And off home for that all important sunday lunch: mangshor jhol - Goat meat curry. Ah!
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Just like old times
It was going to be just like old times (ancient times if truth be told…but really I don’t want to be that honest): Another Batman movie, a bike ride to a cinema hall (and not one of those multiplexes), maybe grab a bite at Friends Home or a roll from Nizam. What fun!
As per plan (like old times), I took a shuttle auto to Hazra More. (Found out that the auto stops much before the "more" and it is quite a walk to it). A hair raising (never quite got the hang of it) crossing the road to the other side, where I waited in front of Ashutosh College for my cousin B to come by on his bike. A flyover has been the only addition to the otherwise straight route to SN Bannerjee road. I found on my first bike ride in 7 years that I had lost the hang of it. Actually it’s the advancing years…I was petrified…kept imagining a car would rush in from a side road and hit us or the bike would skid on a pothole and we’d come under the wheels of a bus etc. And in the process, missed out on the lazy, relaxed air of a Kolkata Sunday (this is really something to be savored).
The hall was more or less as I remembered it. In those old days, New Empire and Lighthouse were our first choice, followed by Elite, Chaplin, rarely at Roxy and almost never at Tiger. But things have changed. "Does anyone go there anymore?", was the common reaction from quite a few people. As it turned out there were quite a few people but not house full. The tickets were cheap at 80/-. The hall was as I remembered it: Enormous, icing sugar pink walls, maroon ruched curtains, mildly seedy air, non-reclining seats and vendors of popcorn coming in with trays selling Chips with a sibilant Cheeeeeeeeeepsssssssssss.
The seats wre non-reclining, the audio was bad and video dark. But somehow, it all added positively to the Dark Knight which was overall a dark film: The gist of this convoluted sentence is that the Dark Knight became really DARK. Yes we all knew how disturbing and menacing and different and far from funny the new joker was. But till you saw it here, you'd never know just how much!! The Hollywood bosses should watch the Dark Knight here.
My knees hurt badly after being cramped on the non-reclining seats for the nearly 3 hour long movie. Thrice during the film, I thought that the film was over only to find out that there was more explosions and glass shatterings. Wobbly knees, hazy eyesight and hearing, we walked out and after another hair raising ride, grabbed some momos and returned home.
Yes it was like "old times" and not very like the when-I-was-Young times I was trying to re-capture!
As per plan (like old times), I took a shuttle auto to Hazra More. (Found out that the auto stops much before the "more" and it is quite a walk to it). A hair raising (never quite got the hang of it) crossing the road to the other side, where I waited in front of Ashutosh College for my cousin B to come by on his bike. A flyover has been the only addition to the otherwise straight route to SN Bannerjee road. I found on my first bike ride in 7 years that I had lost the hang of it. Actually it’s the advancing years…I was petrified…kept imagining a car would rush in from a side road and hit us or the bike would skid on a pothole and we’d come under the wheels of a bus etc. And in the process, missed out on the lazy, relaxed air of a Kolkata Sunday (this is really something to be savored).
The hall was more or less as I remembered it. In those old days, New Empire and Lighthouse were our first choice, followed by Elite, Chaplin, rarely at Roxy and almost never at Tiger. But things have changed. "Does anyone go there anymore?", was the common reaction from quite a few people. As it turned out there were quite a few people but not house full. The tickets were cheap at 80/-. The hall was as I remembered it: Enormous, icing sugar pink walls, maroon ruched curtains, mildly seedy air, non-reclining seats and vendors of popcorn coming in with trays selling Chips with a sibilant Cheeeeeeeeeepsssssssssss.
The seats wre non-reclining, the audio was bad and video dark. But somehow, it all added positively to the Dark Knight which was overall a dark film: The gist of this convoluted sentence is that the Dark Knight became really DARK. Yes we all knew how disturbing and menacing and different and far from funny the new joker was. But till you saw it here, you'd never know just how much!! The Hollywood bosses should watch the Dark Knight here.
My knees hurt badly after being cramped on the non-reclining seats for the nearly 3 hour long movie. Thrice during the film, I thought that the film was over only to find out that there was more explosions and glass shatterings. Wobbly knees, hazy eyesight and hearing, we walked out and after another hair raising ride, grabbed some momos and returned home.
Yes it was like "old times" and not very like the when-I-was-Young times I was trying to re-capture!
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
Walking the Talk 2
So I got out my sneakers. A bit worse for wear, the laces all knotty (I don't quite recall why it had tiny knots at various places). This caused some problems since I was neither able to tie the laces properly, nor take them out to de-knot them. I wore them nevertheless - one shoe a bit wobbly and lose and the other a bit tight (given the variation in length of laces). And then I stepped out in grand style - there - take that - see that (to the multitudes in Maddox Square who have nothing better to do except eye my foot wear or lack of it, or so I imagine) - no sandals anymore.
But my feet felt so tired ... weary, heavy after only one lap. They felt as if weights were tied to them. Laces. Proper laces is what I need. And so, K got me a pair of laces from Lansdowne Market - hurrah. And for only 5 Rupees. Imagine. But my joy was shortlived: The laces are very short. I could not tie a bow, a tiny knot is all I can manage. Nevertheless they were an improvement. I did get a pair of long laces from Bata - but they had only white ones.
Also, both shoes had slits near the big toe. (Eeks ... did my toe nails actually do that? Maybe, but imagine how formidable a weapon - my toe nail - a kick with a sharp toed feet could come in quite handy). And my socks (I have, good girl, several pairs) are all white. And did I mention my sneakers are black. The white socks do show through the slit - and those who stare at my feet might wonder - but nothing I can do about that. Every week on Wednesdays a cobbler comes to our building - I can have the slit repaired but ever since I got the sneakers out, he has not been coming (Now why doesn't that surprise me).
And I figured out the weariness is nothing to do with the laces....I need to do some limbering, ankles stretches before my evening walks.
And despite all that walking the talk (all in my head)...I have improved very slightly. I can manage 5 laps easily and last two panting and gasping.
And if you have missed and are really interested to know about how it all started, here it is Walking the Talk 1.
But my feet felt so tired ... weary, heavy after only one lap. They felt as if weights were tied to them. Laces. Proper laces is what I need. And so, K got me a pair of laces from Lansdowne Market - hurrah. And for only 5 Rupees. Imagine. But my joy was shortlived: The laces are very short. I could not tie a bow, a tiny knot is all I can manage. Nevertheless they were an improvement. I did get a pair of long laces from Bata - but they had only white ones.
Also, both shoes had slits near the big toe. (Eeks ... did my toe nails actually do that? Maybe, but imagine how formidable a weapon - my toe nail - a kick with a sharp toed feet could come in quite handy). And my socks (I have, good girl, several pairs) are all white. And did I mention my sneakers are black. The white socks do show through the slit - and those who stare at my feet might wonder - but nothing I can do about that. Every week on Wednesdays a cobbler comes to our building - I can have the slit repaired but ever since I got the sneakers out, he has not been coming (Now why doesn't that surprise me).
And I figured out the weariness is nothing to do with the laces....I need to do some limbering, ankles stretches before my evening walks.
And despite all that walking the talk (all in my head)...I have improved very slightly. I can manage 5 laps easily and last two panting and gasping.
And if you have missed and are really interested to know about how it all started, here it is Walking the Talk 1.
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