Reminiscing

Kuch woh din bhi the jab life mein purpose the par kaam nahin.
Aaj kaam to bahut hai, purpose jaane kidhar chalagaya.
Shaam ke 5 baje, Hudson Lines mein Friends ki woh chai
Wills Navycut aur badi badi baatein
3k per month ki pocket money
Aur laakhon ke sapne
Un sapnon ki bhi ek apni duniya thi
purpose the par kaam nahin
Aaj lakh to hain, sapnein jaane kahaan kho gaye
tab ek girlfriend ko taraste the
aaj anek ke baad bhi pyaar nahin
tab dost aur dosti hi duniya thi
mohabbat ki ek kasak raat bhar ke gupp-shupp ka fodder tha
aaj kal to raat agle din ki majdoori ke beech ka ek gap hai
Kabhi paise hon to dost ko rikshe mein life dena
jab gareebi to khud paidal chal lena
smile fir bhi colgate ka ad bani rehti thi
aaj jaane kidhar to kho gayi hai
kabhi kabhi aati hai
dost ke orkut account ki photograph se nikal kar
sadak pe pillon se jhagadte bachchon ko dekhkar
then like everything ephemeral
gone
tab ek junoon tha nayi bhaashayein seekhne ka
aaj bhaashaaon mein jubaan ghum ho gayi hai
tab ek chaahat thi kuch paane ki
aaj chaahaton mein khud ko kho diya hai
haan woh photograph mein mudi hui bike ki handle
time machine ki tereh le jaati hai wapas
development ke naam pe humne backdrop badal diya
umra ne badal diye patra
sawaal ye hai
kya hum un bhaawnaaon ko bhi badal paayenge jinke beech humne is jeevan ki neev rakhi thi
bahut kuch khoya, bahut kuch paaya
gham bhi nahin hain, na koi malaal,
sirf ek void hai
aur ek nayi chaahat, usko bharne ki

Strolling Down The Park Street.

Here is something I penned down way back in 2003 and stubled across again while sorting an old mailbox.


It has been a happy day,
Strolling down the Park Street.

On a Sunday,
When everyone stays back home in Calcutta
(They changed the name, to uphold the CULTURE,
Whatever that means)
I spare my Newspaper office,
To live the romanticism of the city.

The streets are empty,
Barring the few cars passing by.
Trincas' looks weary, after a reverberating saturday night.
And amongst the calm flows the rippling happiness,
Lost amongst her thoughts.

The Oxford Book Gallery is closed,
Shutters down with a few titles in the window,
Promising an opening tomorrow.
I can wait for that.

Because right now, my legs are on their own,
Wading their way through the lovely Norwester breeze.
And my thoughts are lost mulling on her smile.
Those beautiful assurances of comfort,
Pouring out of her eyes.

We have a Barista now,
Opposite the Park Hotel.
Its open.
The aroma of coffee sneaking out of the glass doors.
Tempting to simulate the literary buds in your mind.
I will go back to that,
But right now,
I am strolling down the Park Street.

I do not belong to this city.
But I am not a stranger to her,
I have met her a lot in my thoughts.
And today thoughts of Her meet this city.

My legs are taking me to the Maidan,
Years back Pete Seeger sung there,
His songs of Hope.

Today I sing my song of love,
For Her. Of Her
Breaking into smile,
Momentarily embarrased for no reason and not caring afterwards.
Who cares when I have her
And its Her thoughts that make me smile.

I don't know why do I feel good.
Does it matter?

Maybe love does such things to you,
Or maybe its the city,

But I love being here now,
Strolling down the Park Street.

Show me the money

I know many of you must have seen it way back and have been there in the discussion about it and this is either a nostalgic trip or yet another discussion.
I remember watching Jerry Maguire long back. I watched it on one of the 24 hour movie channels and it was interrupted all the way through by commercials. Moreover, I used to be college kid (though I barely went to the college).
Last evening I saw the CD at Crossword and picked it up. This time it was a different movie. I loved the, "I am going to get my clients and yours" part of it. I could relate to the frustrations of working solo and running against stronger guys. Above all, I could relate to the concept of business by heart.
The movie speaks of Mr Jerry Maguire, a sportsperson's agent who is out on the streets, all alone, roughing it against the biggies with just one football player to go by. It speaks of connecting humanely to the clients and establishing a human touch. Now all of you, who are in the madhouse of Indian corporates would agree that the heart is not the best organ to use for business. There are people who are known for doing it. Some became Richard Branson, well there are many you wouldn't know about.
Jerry happens to find success and his moment comes when his client makes a splash and reiterates on the human connection between them. It speaks of friendship.
In all honesty, this is the stuff dreams are made of and not many of them come true. Where I loved the movie and lived the catharsis it offered, the first thing I ended up reiterating this morning with one of my clients was, "Show me the money and I will show you the numbers." Sadly he hasn't watched Jerry Maguire and am not sure whether he would after my advise.
I have been in the business by heart category and made a smooth transition to the cold, dead calculations of figures on the balance sheets and the curves on that graph sheet I avoided as a school kid. There are times when I venture out with heart and make another transition to the category of dead. I hope, someday, in my dream of becoming a serial enterpreneur, I can chase a few hearty ventures.
Till then, lets just get the lessons right.

"Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash.
New car, caviar, four star daydream,
Think Ill buy me a football team"
PINK FLOYD

Of Dante, Roth, Accent, Skeleton, Freedom, A New Friend and I

I am writing this for and to a new friend. He might not think the same about me. I, however, am indebted to him for the release.

Today, happens to be an important day in my life for many reasons. It has its own business ventures to talk of, the entire number crunching game. This post, though, is not about that.

My day started with a call from the past. I had indeed called upon it and at times wishes do come true. Since I had somehow pushed myself out of the slumber, it took me a while to figure out the content of it. And then I could hear some desperate threats. Ideally I was supposed to get angered and match blood with blood. But I guess I have gone far away. (As a matter of fact, one of the online tests I took to satiate my momentary masochistic bouts tells me that I am at the Seveth Level of Hell.) To cut the digression short, I went on with the conversation. In between all the words, I could hear something that told me to hold on. After all I am the one who teaches and trains people on the importance of tone in communication.
I do not know if my friend knows this or not, but the tone of the voice tells a lot about the human being. It takes you right inside the mind of that person.
We went on talking with going off the tangents so many times and in between popped a name that I love. Dante.
The next he popped up was in a conversation that I had been pining for and which always looked elusive. And that spoke of purging sins. My last post speaks of Sin. My friends out there maybe missed the point. Or maybe they chose to. Whatever it is, is something which will always stay a guess for me. The point that I want to drive is that the Sin I was talking of is what makes me human and I do not want to let go of it. The common sense might beget that you should not love if you do not have the capacity to love and the Sin I spoke was of loving without that capacity. Where does the question of purging it arise? And that has to be my choice. Not a response to some self proclaimed righteousness between a confused student and her caring teacher.

My friend, I am a mortal human being. I might have survived the 100 diazepalm pills, but am under no impression that I will survive anything similar again. As a matter of fact, it is Chateaubriand I would like to pick here and say that I actually started living my life after I lost everything.

"You could have purged your sins in your silent way, you need not tell that to me. You are as fake as your accent"...

I do not want to purge my sins. I will live with them. I do not have to wait for an afterlife to be in the seventh level of hell.
Yes, I need not tell you. I was stupid to do that. Maybe because I strongly believed in those words of love, till today. I had a small toy of belief, that maybe in between all that hatred and disgust for me, there still must be a glimmer of love. From where I saw, love is not something that can die. Well, you were right. Maybe it was not there at the first place. Maybe it was my life of illusions. (Hey, but I do love Auster) To cut the long story short, I wanted to share and not tell. I did not want anything in return. Beyond all what I am, there is a weaker side to me as well. That was dangling on the hopes of my undying love. And in no way I was trying to show something off. You alleged me of audacity. What about your audacity to tell me how to live my life and measuring me as per your conventions? If there was love, today there wouldn't have been any malice, if there is malice, where was the love.

You see the logic my friend, if there is no love, why should I bother to get back to it. Am beyond illusions. You helped me get rid of the last remanants. See, why I call you a friend. Despite a hostile conversation, I could not sense malice. And that is why I write this for you.

As far as my accent is concerned, I learnt it and have been teaching it for a while and have got paid for it. Fake is a perception. All of us are entitled to ours.

Thank you my friend for being the catalyst to my freedom. You helped me break the last thread. I do not want to grow up. What do we get of growing up. A false sense of pride. And the right to call names and the AUDACITY to allege people of 'pseudo-ego', a cliche I liked once, and the right to spin a miasma in other people's life just because they loved you once.

There are some of us who want to look at life from a 44 mm view and think of it as the world. We live inside our houses, ensconced in the shade of silver spoon we were born with and find catharsis in self praise and bashing others. We think that the ones who serve our emotional needs are right and the others wrong. You might be right, but the other might not be necessarily wrong.

No offence my friend, but I feel great today for erasing some memories off my mind. At the end of it, the entire morning drill was such a facade. I did not want to talk to her to be subjected to the malice. I wanted to part with a smile on my face. Not like the last time, crying. Well, I indeed had a smile on my face.

I remember reading Roth's letting go. All the while I was reading it, I felt very uncomfirtable of that invisible stupid hold that was there on this guy of what we gloriously and at times abusively call emotions. His catharsis was my momentary joy. Today, I can experience the orgasm of catharsis. I can Let Go.


"Heavy thunder breaks the deep lethargy within your head....

...causing you to upstart suddenly, like a person who by force is awakened."
--- Dante, Divine Comedy