Agomoni 3

Barir pujo orghyo...

Dhuno Poranor Purono Reeti...

Kumari Pujo...

Bishorjoner age dorpone mayer pa dekha...

Ei shesh dekha...e bochorer moto...

Agomoni 2

Alo r bigyaponer moroke...

Tufaani chumuk protibaarer motoi...

Nache alo dhaker taale....

Thakur dekhte jawa...

BIGyaponer bajare BIG FM...

Agomoni 1

Trinoyoni Durga...

Rudrorupini tokhono kumortulite...

Agomoner Prostuti...

Tak Duma Dum Dhaker Kaathi...

Ma chollen baaper baari...kumor para theke...

As the festivities begin...

It has been raining intermittently since the past month…well, it no longer takes a monsoon to bring out your umbrellas and rain coats. The Low Pressure troughs have been a bit too frequent over the Gangetic Plains this year…Looming, dark clouds gather almost every alternate day causing creases on more an every alternate face on the roads. Perhaps we a re a bit too tired of rains…perhaps we are a bit too tired of half dried clothes with a musty smell…perhaps we are a bit too tired of the mucky lanes or the more than half drenched roads!

Guess its finally time for Zeus…or Indra (They look strangely familiar in spite of their locational differences!) to take a rest for the year! The over-drenched humans are now crying out loud for a bit of sun! As the roads of the metropolis remain drowned to the waist even after scorching sun beats down on the rain drenched city (Thanks to the Civic Services!) the sick and tired souls of the city call out more to the Civic Authorities rather than the All Powerful Gods. It’s no wonder then that the theme-crazy Puja organizers do not hesitate to replace the moulds with a more bureaucratic look that the usual ethereal ones in their bid to be the best! Actually there is hardly an option left! With the Potters Zone either remains submerged in waist deep water or another harsh Low Pressure starting to beat down on it mercilessly, the traditional idols hardly get a chance to dry up in time!

And of course there is the Puja Shopping…perhaps one of the favourite pastimes for Us, proud Kolkatans! As the rains put a hold on the entire affair for a few days, the remaining ones see record crowd gathering around the shopping centres, and the bazaars of the city so much that life becomes tough for the rest of the world. Well, news here then…the Met Department has predicted a Dry Puja this year (sound strangely familiar to Dry Days!!!) leading to the obvious conclusion of the opposite! So fellow city-ans…keep your umbrellas and raincoats ready for the five days of celebration! And be sure to include waterproof clothes in your Puja Wardrobe. Oh yes and it’s Floaters Time…and so, the Reeboks and Nikes of the world unite…for its time for the Khadims, Sreeleathers and the lot to rest in peace…

And then the Rizwanur Rehman Case still remains shrouded in mystery as authorities juggle it between themselves arguing over when to prosecute the suspected officials! For Life’s Sake…the guy was found dead and in all probabilities murdered…and yet the discussions range between whether it will be right to prosecute the people concerned! And of course the ‘Ration Revolution’ as it has been labeled now, continues to claim lives and burn shops and assets. The Authorities are as usual at a loss about which side to take – the ones they had been stealthily taking or the ones they have to openly take to save their faces! Oh yes…Nandigram continues to simmer like on a perpetual fire…with deaths in a row and definite more to follow wonder what appeals to them now…The blue skies with white clouds floating? The smell of autumn emanating from every part of the world? The Mahalaya and Puja dawning with its usual fervour? Or food, land and respect?

Will be back with more updates on the city and around and of course everything else that will remain dormant and will eventually die a unnecessarily predictable death…

Well….Happy Durga Puja people…

Shanti Town VI

The morning welcomes us in the same way, with the only exception that it being a Sunday does not necessarily imply lazing in the bed till late hours of the day. Post breakfast and bath we set out to explore the town and buy small mementos for people back home. This time we decide to walk the two kilometres instead of taking the rickshaw. Walking down the road by the canal, the breeze sings in our ears as colourful butterflies flutter past taking short breaks on the tall green grass by the roads. The sky is a strange spotless blue designed with stark shades of red, orange and yellow emanating from the flowers that bloom on the high up branches. Again we pass locals on our way and wonder if our presence in their usual settings upsets the ambience for them...

A trifle tired as we reach the Canal More, we decide to stop for a cup of tea in one of the stalls. Hot tea in earthen cups tastes fantastic, with the smell of fresh earth surrounding us throughout. Instead of taking the left turn we decide to turn right towards Goalpara and walk down a few steps to 'Ipil'. Does the name sound weird? It might...it means a star in the local Santhali language. A lone man runs this small shop or boutique in the real sense of the term. He makes all the items on sale with meticulous care in his own little studio room in one corner of the small hut like structure. The room smells strongly of grass, as in ganja...while the items on display, mostly Dokra craft can leave one mesmerized. We wander in the shop for a while and end up buying a few stuff that can hardly be found in the Kolkata or for that matter in the town area itself.

Satisfying our aesthetic senses for the time being we start walking towards the University area. We cross Shyambati, University More and walk further down leaving Purbo palli on the left. As we get closer to the now deserted Bhuban danga ground, a surging memory fills the mind - that of the Poush Mela. Started by Tagore, this huge fair is another event of importance in this town. Held over the 22nd or 23rd, 24th and 25th December, marking the Foundation Day of the Vishwabharati University. The 'Melar math' as it is also known as turns into a literal Fair ground with shops selling locally made handicraft items, food, items of daily use and local jewellery. There are entertainment corners and the crowd essentially pools in from Kolkata and other places as well.

One of the main attractions remains the 'Baul Akhra' where bauls come together and present their songs in a somewhat similar version of a JAM Session. People sit there enamored by the simple yet philosophically charged lyrics of the baul songs - a speciality of rural Bengal, particularly this part of the state. the lyrics as well as the tunes accompanied by the Khamaks sound strangely rustic as they sing in unison...'Chatoko pray ohornishi/ cheye ache kalo shoshi/ ar hobo bole choron dashi/O ta hoy na kopal gune...amar moner manusheri shone...O milon hobe kototdine...' The sorrow and cries of the soul reverberate through the strains of the songs that equate love for the supreme being through the love for a lover. Though literally Poush Mela ends on the 25th December, what continues is the Bhanga Mela or the remnants of the fair with some shops still selling items, now at a cheaper rate.

As we move further, rows of shanties sell locally made artifacts and items. Teracotta being a speciality in this part of the state, items made in this form are plenty and at rates unimaginable anywhere else. The earthern artifacts, the batik clothes, the Dokra ornaments...it actually is a shoppers paradise for those with a taste for elegance and sophistication. As the day gradually moves towards noon, tired of the walking, we take a rickshaw and head back for home. A little rest and packing our belongings we head towards Prantik Station to take the train back to our usual lives once more. The Ganadevta Express comes at 6:30 and we board the train, a trifle sad that the trip has ended but ever ready to come back at the slightest pretext yet again...and again...As the trains gains speed taking us further and further away from Shanti Town, a faint melody rings in the ears...'Jabar age jao go amay rangiye diye, rokte tomar chorondola lagiye diye...rangiye diye jao jao jao go ebar jabar age'

Shanti Town V

Post lunch we move towards the Khowai...A part of the land naturally eroded for ages, rendering it the name, erosion in Bengali being known as 'Khoy'. The red soiled road lined on either side with tall trees takes us to the dam gate which is perhaps the most precarious and yet the most wildly appealing part of the town. The brown earth eroded over the years creates considerably deep gorges with tall grass growing all around as the dam gates slide down on one side now leaving just a thin stream of water. As we walk deep into the forest like hind part of the area, all we can see are the same eucalyptus like trees that are a regular feature of this area emanating its strange smell. The crickets go on buzzing even during this time of the day creating a strange music...no wonder the poet found refuge and inspiration from this abode of peace...we accompanied them with a chorus rendition of 'Ha re re re re re amay chere de re de re...jemon chara boner pakhi moner anonde re....' True to the words we felt free beyond all ties.

Leaving Khowai behind, we then moved towards Kopai...we could have taken the road along the Khowai but the approaching evening and the precariousness of the road made us think sense as we drove back to the Sonajhuri more and from there took the road leading to Goalpara and beyond. It took about 15 odd minutes to reach the bridge over Kopai. The thin brown stream below the bridge flows as a mocking tribute to the Kopai that swells ferociously during monsoons. We park the car by the side of the bridge and climb down the steep side by the bridge to reach the river, the moist red earth creating footprints as we move further down. As we sit by the River on the red soil on a few luckily found boulders, the river gurgles faintly close by on its endless journey witnessing years and years of life around. Adventurous by birth, I walk towards the water with my jeans folded to the knees...as my feet gradually get used to the chill in the water. On the other bank, a few local women casually bathe and wash their clothes looking at us amused at our antics and over excited behaviour. I take a few more steps into the water and feel the need to fold the jeans further up. Looking back I realize that I am almost halfway through the river and I stand with the water level only upto my thighs....I wade further upstream and get a large boulder right in the middle of the river and sit on it with my feet still in the waters. The evening gradually turns redder as the sun now on the western horizon slowly dips further and further down intermittently hiding behind palm trees. The nip in the air can be felt faintly as I head back for the banks almost unwillingly.

As I step foot on the ground, on the other side a herd of cows come slowly down the slope and enter the water accompanied by a boy of about 12 or 13 who also steps in...one by one he leads them into the water and then swims accross, his height being short enough for him having to swim through...they all reach this side and in the same mechanical way walk down the banks towards home...I wonder how life goes on in the same way fro them everyday. they cross this river twice everyday from this side to that and yet the monotony and drdgery of their lives do not drive them crazy to the hilt...they seem content with what they have. Why then do we, more educated, more civilized lot have this source of constant deprivation in life? However much we get we still want more...maybe it is the distance from the roots or maybe because of our lack of association with nature...I wonder! As we walk back to the car darkness and silence engulfs us on our journey back home. The multitutde of glow worms and stars in an ethereal unison cast a magical spell all around with the crickets accompanying them with their incessant sound. The moon shines yet again and lights us the world around and yet again we retire to the comforts of our home, make a quick dinner and finish it off discussing the wanderings of the day. The terrace calls yet again as we go up and sit in the shimmering moonlit terrace remembering the poet and singing songs endlessly. It dawns on us how and why he had written 'Chader hashir badh bhengeche uchle pore alo...o rojoni gondha tomar gondho sudha dhalo'...

Shanti Town IV

The road takes us through a level crossing at the Prantik Station and through the Canal Side Road to the Sonajhuri More. A left turn accross a bridge over the canal takes us closer towards the peaceful town now abuzz with activities of the day. Saturday and Sundays do not mean the weekend fro the people here....a rebelious against Rules, Rabindranath Tagore wanted an unconventional day to be the end of the week...and so on Wednesdays this town, just a little over 225 kilometres away from the Kolkata Metropolis enjoys a Sunday! Good for us travellers though who have only the conventional weekends to get away from the grind to the shelter of the Shanti Town.

The car passes through Shyambati with trees lining both sides of the road interspersed with picturesqe houses with fascinatingly appealing names. As we slowly leave Shyambati behind we enter the University Area with the first glimpse of the hind part of the Uttarayan Complex - the poets home. On the other side of the road within the boundaries of the Univer sity stands the Upashona Griho, believed to be the prayer hall where Maharshi Debendra Nath Tagore held prayer meets of the then much coveted Brahmo Samaj. The stained glass walls of the Upashana Griho creates a thousand hues as sunlight streaks through. I could almost hear the chorus of voices offering an ode to the formless God...I could hear 'Noyono tomare payna dekhite royecho noyone noyone...hridoy tomare pay na janite hridoye royecho gopone'...Close by stands the much revered Chhatimtola. The Uttaryan Complex, once home to the poet stretches accross a wide area close to the University More. A part of it now transformed into a museum, is open to tourists to view remnants and aspects of the poet's life. It was from here that the coveted Noble Prize was stolen! The complex has a museum known as Bichitra where there has been an attempt to capture glimpses from Rabindra Nath Tagore's life. Nandan, the art gallery is also a must watch. As we stroll accross the first building, an extension of the Museum and the Art Gallery is Udayan - One of the five abodes of the poet within the areas of the complex. Standing neatly one after another at considerable distances are Konarka, Shyamoli, Udichi and Punoscho.The poet is said to have spent time in each of these buildings as he went on weaving one master creation after another.

Leaving the gates of the complex, we stepped into the University Campus. The stretch and vastness complemented beautifully by a strange feeling or freedom and being back to the roots gripped me as always. Never an ardent believer in rules, Gurudev had initiated this Institution in 1901 where education till date is carried on in the same way - in harmony with Nature. Unlike any school or university in the world, classes are still held in this centre for learning and culture, in the open under huge trees in the very lap of nature. The dream of the Poet materialized to its utmost when Vishwabharati was declared a Central University in 1951.Walking through the peaceful campus one by one we passed Gour Prangon, The University Grounds, Vidya Bhavan, Patha Bhavan, Siksha Bhavan, Vinay Bhavan, China Bhavan, Hindi Bhavan. Sangeet Bhavan and Kala Bhavan fall on the other side of the campus close to the much known Kalo Bari. The campus, the comfortable warm breeze and the peaceful ambience at once transferred me to a a state we friends refer to as 'Haloo' - a short form of halucination. Not an exact meaning though, the mind at this state travels through time, space and reality to a state of absolute trans where reality seems to get further and further away from you. The huge trees with Krishnochura, Radhachura and Polash crowning their green heads offers solace and refuge to us weirdly urbane creatures, who behind the facade of modernity and urbanity, long to return to their roots at the slightest pretext.

Shanti Town III

As the car sped through the road giving way to the stray bullock carts or tractor led containers my mind rushed back to the memories of Basantotsav attended last year...The festival, initiated by The Nobel Laureate during his time, has been continued with fervour and is one of the biggest Festivals for Bengalis not just in Shantiniketan but accross the state. Generally celebrated in late February or early March depends on when Holi is scheduled, this festival of colours it at its envious best here at Shantiniketan.
The event starts in the early hours of the morning as each student of the Vishwabharati University from nursery to the highest levels dress the same way - women in red bordered yellow saree and men in yellow kurtas and white churidars. A batik uttariya and a sash around the waist with garlands of Palash around their necks is commom for all with women tucking the garlands in their hair as well. two streaks of red and green Aabir adorn their forehead as in rows they enter the campus area dancing to an evergreen composition by the poet " Aji Dokhin duar khola" sung continually as long as all the students don't come and settle down in front of the open air stage at Gaur Prangan at the very heart of the Univeristy campus. The actual programme then commences on the stage with students from Kala Bhavan and Sangeet Bhavan putting up performances to the typical array of Spring songs by the poet. This function is a result of vigiour practice for months at the end of which the Vice Chancellor inaugurates the festivities. (Photo courtesy Sanjib Ganguli)
The norm is that he would have to throw a handlful of Aabir into the air, only after which, can anybody put colour on anybody else. Though shattered by the uncouth number of outsiders with every passing year, the students still follow the norm. It is after the function that the best part of the festivities begin. Students sit around the campus ground in clusters singing and dancing impromptu to the well known songs. The biggest of these sessions are held in front of the much known Kalo Bari beside the Sangeet Bhavan where the students of the Kala Bhavan and Sangeet Bhavan start their own show. With a chorus of melodious voices echoing in perfect unison and the Khol and Pakhawaj keeping the beats, the dance seems like a celebration of life as young and old students join the show. A little distance away a group of Baul Singers create a rustic ambience with the haunting strains of the traditional sings and the complimenting twines of the Ektara or Khomok as they call it. Till the late hours of the day the air around is left colored in various shades thanks to all the Aabir which is thrown into the air. The smell of spring mixed with the fragrance of the various colored abirs can surely render you tipsy, intoxicated with life.

The evenings are generally scheduled for one of the dance dramas rehearsed intently and performed by students of Kala Bhavan and Sangeet Bhavan again on the Gour Prangan Stage. This can either be viewed from sitting in front of the stage or from the ground though a screen. The strange concoction of the liting strains of the memorable songs by the great poet, the spring air with a slight chill still lingering, the smell of the many unnamed and unknown shrubs enmeshed with the string smell of Polash and Krishnochura and the full round moon illuminating the world around - if there is heaven on earth it must be here! A quiet dinner at Bhalo Mondo with the ever smiling Sardarji at the helm smiling and speaking in immaculate Bangla is all you would need to make it memorable for the rest of your life.

Shanti Town II

If you suddenly open your eyes to the sound of a rooster's call...how different would it feel from the usual sound of buses or rickshaws honking that greets you every morning? Well...different is an understatement...the feeling takes me back to my roots...where I actually belong...something tells me I have a connection to this place...and I guess I do...everything seems so familiar, everything beckons me with a strange knowingness that I hardly get in any city!I love to believe that I must have been a village girl here some time...in another life...The day dawned on us pretty early as a glowing sun lit up the darkness, that had been all we could see of the place last night. I called the number I had brought from Kolkata and booked a car that was to come in about an hours time to take us to Kankalitala...one of the 51 Peeths of the Hindu Puranas. The way through the village roads is a treat by itself as it unravells the true village of Bengal to us urbane souls...and though I had been through these roads innumerable times now...they appear new and fresh everytime...

The car, a Grey Indica, comes and honks in about an hours time as we get ready for the trip tucking in last minute essentials into the bag, not to forget the camera. It's funny...everytime I come here...I take snaps and everytime they appeal to me with the same intensity! The vast green fields, the blue sky interspersed with white fluffy clouds, the distant date trees lining the horizon with a few village huts like one of those line drawings we have grown up seeing in the Sohoj Path...the line of Santhal men or women going for work in their traditional dresses - men in short dhotis and a gamcha on their shoulders and women with cotten sarees worn traditionally to a height a few inches above the ankle, their dark complexions and chiselled physiques glowing as if chiselled by some master craftsman.

We started off with the spring sun shining brightly on the landscape. There was a slight chill in the air as the last strains of winter insists on clinging back to this beautiful place for as long as it can. Spring is the time to come to Shantiniketan with the much talked about Basantotsav round the corner. But the choice to come a week before was just to avoid the crowd and get the real feel of the place, though missing the festivities is sure to be a reason for grief!

About 8 kilometres from home, the temple of Ma Kankali stands quietly by the Kopai River. The myth goes that when an enraged Shiva was started his Tandav to destroy the world, with the corpse of Sati on his shoulders, Vishnu had cast his Sudarshan Chakra to stop him. In the effort the body of Sati had been sliced into 51 pieces and scattered around the place. Her various remains fell in various locations, each one later recognized as a peethasthan.Kankalitala, which has a Kunda (pond) where one of the pelvic bones of Sati (Kankal) lay immersed is one such peetha where a temple has been constructed by the Kunda. The quiet of the place is only complimented by the rows of baul singers singing songs. After offering puja at the temple we wandered towards the back of the temple through where Kopai river silently flows through...a few quiet moments by the river left us at peace with ourselves looking at the local people engaged in working at a brick kiln on the other side of the river. We left after a while to start our trip visiting the many enchanting locations of the city...remains of an era that had seen the best of the great poet at his best.

Shanti Town I

As the rickshaw leaves the station and the dying lights of the last few open shops are left behind, a strange smell hits the nose. The source - wild shrubs,some eucalyptus like tall trees, a mist slowly setting on the sleepy little town...Shanti Town we call it...Shantiniketan the normal ones do!The Prantik Station - hardly 10 minutes from where we generally put up, is convenient as well as practical. Sonar Tari Housing Complex - an incongruous modern architectural housing complex with rows of milk white duplexes and flats might have spoilt the beauty of the otherwise rustic locale, but for us, being proud owners of a place to put up, is a boon. Idealogically I oppose the incongruity of the entire idea but deep within I cannot deny how this place offers me shelter when I need it madly! As I look up, the dark sky with a million glittering glow worms and the strange silence greets me yet again with a new warmth as every time I step foot on this soil...

To take this train is the best idea if the intention is to enjoy an additional night at the Shanti town...The Vishwabharati Fast Passenger train, leaving Howrah at 4:40 p.m. takes about 4 hours to reach Prantik. The station of course has its own grace and mystique appearance. The otherwise dark stretch of platform, illumined only by the lights of the posts located at regular distances leaves a haunting feel. As a speeding wagon train passes by in full speed, the sound rips accross the silence of the semi darkness. The lone station room with a low powered bulb casts an eerie glow around the place as we climb down the stairs to move forward towards Home...

"Je muhurte tui ekhane land korish, sei muhurte oi dari buro bhodrolok toke puro grash kore ney!" is the one comment I here everytime I come here...Perhaps it just shows in my face everytime I set foot on this stretch of land. As the rickshaw moves closer to home the winds wheezes into the ears cutting through the silence of the night, as a sole, perfectly round moon smiles a welcome...with a thousand glow worms studding the sky like a bag full of diamonds strewn accross carelessly.

As we unlock the otherwise deserted building and open the door to my home, a sense of calm and peace wafts through the room and hits the nose. Too late for dinner and too full with the tit bits devoured en route, we silently put down our luggage, change and come up to the terrace. A dark silence wraps the whole area with stray street lamps lighting up only parts of the dark road that walks parallely to the canal up to Sonajhuri More from the Prantik Station and beyond. The crickets break the silence of the night with their continious and chorus crescendo as the round moon gets covered by a huge black cloud. The distant Villages, ready to retire for the day are small dots of light as the last of the kerosene lamp burns to be put out. The heart sings out..."Aj jyotsna raate sobai geche bone... Bosonter ei matal somirone aj..." as the moon leaps out from the cover of the passing clouds and illumines the world yet again...Tomorrow stretches infront of our eyes as the fatigue of the day catches us unaware...slowly we climb down the steps and hit the bed...

All for you...

Tomar jonyo royeche rakha hajar alo bochor makha pakhir pakha…
Tomar jonyo adim guhay prothom tulir taner chobi royeche anka…
Tomar jonyo guti guti pathor juger projapoti mello dana…
Tomar jonyo borof gole akash nile choriye dilo brishti dana…
Tai tomar jonyo rekhe gelam prithibir chabi
Haate rekho etai amar dabi....

Jani ekhon tomar ghore ekla jibon gumre more biponnotay…
Jani tomar mukh dheke jay bigyaponer drishyomukhor osthitorotay…
Tobu jodi ektibaro duchokh mele dekhte paro
Pakhir danay akash joler chobi…
Tokhon bujhbe tomar haatei ache ei prithibir chaabi
Haate rekho etai amar daabi...

Jokhon tumi e gan shune nebe tomar pajor bhore domka batash…
Tokhon tomar uthon jure khelbe nodi, dulbe haway roktopolash…
Khuje pabe tomar bhasha chhobe tomay bhalobasha…
Buker pathor bhangbe dekho shob i…
Tokhon tomar haatei pabe ei prithibir chaabi
Haatei rekho etai amar daabi....

Sung by Srikanto Acharjo in his album 'Ghuri', this song appeals to me like an unending saga of love. It flashes a series of pictures in my mind of a young girl passing through all the locales and places shown in the collage above. As if his voice travels accross the seven seas to gift his beloved the eternal gifts, that he had always thought belonged to her and only her. She, the epitome of life and love picks up these gifts from where she belongs - Nature! And each of them spring to life at her touch, as if that was what they had waited for all along....the outstretched wings of the white dove with a million light years etched on them...The cave paintings of years gone by waiting to be unravelled in front of her eyes...The first wings of the butterfly that crawled out of the first cocoon...The first droplets of rain formed from the snow thet melts with the first touch of the sunrays....The pains of her gasping existence ebbing from her condemned and solitary self...The laments of her soul as the silent screams of the advertisement hoardings muffle her cries...If only she could open her eyes and see the beautiful silvery drawings curved on the blue of the sky...As she fills her lungs with the freshness of the verses...all of a sudden a thousand flowers bloom covering her courtyard in the yellow, orange and red of their hue...All of a sudden she gets back life, gets back her voice, gets back the love that lies at the very base of her existence...And then as she opens her grip...there lies the key to the world that belonged only and only to her...that she thought she had lost!

She...

All her life she had lived…
‘Lived’ – she said
and the world said along!
She was an epitome of love –
‘She was love’, they said and yet…
what they did not know was that
she has waited all her life
to live…to love!

Love was something she always had in plenty and yet
It was the only thing she was waiting for…
What she needed was love
that could expand her soul to the level of Divinity!
She wanted to broaden her soul and reach heights
from where her flight could bring her closer to the skies!

He was her angel…
Someone who had been there all along
And she had been oblivious to his existence for ages…
He could take her closer, closer, closer still – to Paradise!
He could fill her heart, her mind, her soul, her self
With a desire that lay in her deepest core…
A desire that had burnt her for all her living moment
with an insatiable passion
that could engulf the world around her and yet –
lay smouldering in the ruins of her dormant wakefulness!
Every breath narrated a story that lay unfinished waiting to be fulfillment…

The quagmire of the society that bound her existence
Was full of pain…betrayal,
Plundered endlessly and established yet another time…
A body made of loose, brittle earth
That decays at the slightest touch…
His passion alone could make her reach a climax
she had never experienced before…
a fire ignited with an eternal passion…

On a certain day...

And there in the midst of it all she stood…an jhola hanging precariously on the shoulder as if to stop itself from dropping into the already accumulated mass of brownish water – a combination of rain water, drain water, petrol and all the accumulated filth from the cars that had mixed merrily with the water. Her salwar suit could be seen only up to the thighs as the rest of it was under the water and the precariously rising water level leaving none of her basics in a condition fit enough to sit and work through the day.

Suddenly…she feels a faint something around her left…or was it right foot…the slipper….Shit! It had given away under the strong force the water was creating thanks to all the passing vehicles creating considerable ripples in the water…Where the hell was the mobile? Oh there it was in her hand, safe from the rains…how something gets more precious than dear life! As if by instinct, she parted with her other pair of slipper rather gleefully…it was going to rain through the day in any case…so her bare feet would not be visible anyway…merrily back to her childhood days, she walked towards the bus stop where another one of my jewels, was standing drenched, with a umbrella open…standing right below a shade!!!

The wetness of her entire combination of garments was bad enough and to top it all…no smokes on the stairs today…The BOSS hates women smoking! And he’s here for a trip of the centre! It all had to happen today??? But there certainly had to be a way out…And yes…WHERE THERE’S A WILL THERE’S MOST CERTAINLY A WAY! The last time she had perhaps tried this was in college…and now once again a mature individual she had to….what crap!!!! She came up to me and said… “Jabe?”

“Kothay? Aaj to curfew…”

“Jayga ache…bathroom” she said with a huge grin…

I followed her to one spare bathroom which was not used thanks to the broken commode but was pretty clean and thankfully with no water spilled on the floors…entering the bathroom together was funny enough…topped by the way we squatted on the bathroom floor for a simple smoke!!!!!!! Bliss…The bathroom full of smoke and the commode full of ashes…we came out…there were two more trips to the coveted destination before the day ended.

And it had stopped raining…and so she trudged home in bare feet…that is her…

One of my treasures at work!!!

It Happened One Night - Chapter 4

The rains always disturbed Shalini but tonight her discomfort knew no bounds. It was raining that night too and that was one of the things that triggered off a chain of events that engraved itself in such a way on her heart that she could not mend it! Why did it all happen? Why did Nikhil lose his reserve? Why did he not remain like before? And if he did then why did he revert back to his usual self again? Why did he initiate a tie he was waiting to break at the earliest?

In fact he had talked about Niharika, quite a number of times but a love struck Shalini just took it to be another one of his usual flings! If only she had been able to guess the seriousness that everybody else noticed in Nikhil about that damsel! And the funniest part was that she couldn’t talk about her longing for Nikhil to anyone else but Preeti, not even Uday who was her closest friend. How she wished she could, for once, know what that man felt…that is if he did at all! He could not be so insensitive not to have any feelings for her – after all, those drunken stupors could not be absolute pretentions! It appalled Shalini to think about how a person as practical and sensible as her could fall in such a stupid trap! It shamed her to realize that how she had cheated on Ankit, who loved her undoubtedly. Ironically, she too was, infact still is, madly in love with Ankit! Yes, their relation is a beautiful one ready to bloom into marriage and yet she had not been completely faithful. She laughed to herself – hadn’t someone once said that, ‘It is the faithless who know love’s tragedies’.

The rains continued – not a soul awake at this hour and the rains seem extra torturous owing to the unearthly silence. Shalini could suddenly feel moisture on her hot cheeks and she realized that oblivious to her two drops of tear had escaped from her long dried up eyes, moistening her world like the rains outside that were rescuing the perched earth! She wanted to cry…cry till she could cry no more…cry till Nikhil sails out of her eyes, her heart, her life…forever!!! She had betrayed – Ankit, Nikhil and Herself! But who lost in this entire gamble? None other than SHALINI NAYYAR – Where is Nikhil now? Somewhere in the midst of one of the vast oceans in the safety of a huge ship immersed in thoughts of a certain Niharika Chowdhury! Where is Ankit? Asleep in his bed, content with Shalini’s love and devotion and all that life has to offer to him! Where is Shalini now? In the midst of everything, apparently happy, with a hollow feeling, named Nikhil, in her heart, otherwise occupied by Ankit!

It Happened One Night - Chapter 3

Uday had a half furnished apartment that served as a halt every time they had a night out and the one thing it had in ample was drinks. Out came 6 glasses and a huge bottle of Vodka but for some strange reason Nikhil decided against it that night, surprising everybody. Instead he kept on switching channels till a little tipsy Shalini almost ordered him to freeze on one particular channel that was playing her favourite song. Shit, this woman just has to make things so difficult for me; Nikhil scolded himself for gradually losing his reserve. And unaware of everybody else the two confused souls saw a video that was absolutely meaning less and at the same time made some strange and unrequited meaning –
…’Then I go and spoil it all by
Saying something stupid like I Love You’…

Love was a stupid thing and Nikhil had absolutely nothing to do with that, nothing at any cost, then why the hell was he feeling funny at the proximity this plain girl was offering. He couldn’t quite understand how one could feel so different with her, when from a year back all he remembered of her were a pair of big, brown eyes. The occasional mails were a formality but at that moment Nikhil could not read his own mind that could be such a botheration at times. Why the hell does this woman need to be the way she was at that moment? She gave a hoot to the world and exuded a warmth that could soften the hardest of icebergs. Slightly tipsy by then and free of all her inhibitions Nikhil could almost compare Shalini to a mermaid, which he sincerely believed to exist. She had shed all the curtains and was now on her own exploring the new depths of this vast ocean.

He had wanted to stay as far as possible from this mystery called Shalini but he could feel that he could not quite help himself in spite of all his effort. Instinctively and as if driven by some magnetic force he was finding himself next to her from time to time.

‘Why the hell are you looking at me as I I’ve just descended from some other planet. I’ve been noticing this throughout the evening…well almost!” enquired Shalini in a slightly slurred voice. What could he say to that? He knew that Shalini understood how he felt about her a year back, how could he now tell her that he felt differently. In only a span of 5/6 hours feelings don’t change – specially for Nikhil. So he decided to ignore the question that actually intrigued him. Why was he staring at her? Had she become so beautiful that he couldn’t take his eyes off her or was he just trying to find what had transformed her? Or was he simply trying to gauge the reasons for his own persistent discomfort through the entire length of the evening?

Everything irritated him – Why the hell did Uday suggest coming there? Why the hell did he agree to come when the last 3 hours before that had been equally uncomfortable for him? Why the hell was she there, then? Even Preeti was there! He suddenly realized that over the entire evening the existence of this ‘Transformation Personified’ had made him so conscious that he had hardly considered the presence of anybody else. He wanted to leave that moment but couldn’t – he knew he was in for trouble.

It Happened One Night - Chapter 2

This just could not be TRUE! Is it just a co-incidence that the two books she manage to lay her hands on recently had to have a character by that name? NIKHIL! Everything was fine till Taslima ended up at that name! Couldn’t there be another name for Swami Nityanand born from the pen of the great Jayabrato Chatterjee? Shalini almost swore at herself for walking down the roads she had promised never to travel again. She had left that city forever, never to go back again-never, for it would drain her a bit too much to see that man in front of his eyes and pretend as if nothing had changed, specially with that lady by his side. She was human after all!

Eight months after that night that changed a certain part of her life forever- she could still see him. Desire burning bright in his dead fish eyes, the look said it all and did the trick most miraculously yet predictably. Some insane stupidity took over Shalini to rekindle her feelings for this man who had no clue about what was going on in her mind and neither did he care. If only she could turn back time and extinguish the blazing inferno that charred her mind and crippled a part of her- forever! And as always she found herself licking on her wounds all alone. She felt horribly small, horribly weak but this was an uncontrollable urge.

Shalini had heard people say that eyes always speak the truth – how desperately she had tried to find anything but raw desire in them that night! And when they kissed, she noticed that his eyes were closed- CLOSED EYES! Then for a moment it had been sufficient to light a million candles all around her – she believed all that she read in Mills & Boon novels – closed eyes during a passionate moment have always implied LOVE! Well, she was sure even then that he couldn’t possibly be in love with her. But a part of her insisted on behaving like a love struck naïve teenager, hanging on desperately to the little things he were murmuring in throes of passion.

She could still feel his touch exploring her undiscovered depths and gradually taking her closer to heaven. There was no intoxication to dull his senses that she had thought of using as a rational explanation of his strange behaviour. Everything was as mundane, as ordinary as any other day, except for the very special union of souls that had an almost meteoric collision and quite predictably left back shattered remnants. Only 1 of them was too strong to leave back any shattered remains –Thought Shalini bitterly. She couldn’t till date come to any conclusion about whether he deserved hatred, dislike or mere indifference for being what he was, for a single night and then strangely for a few more inebriant occasions. But one thing was certain- he still made a difference, and managed to cause an unwanted stir in the beautifully settled life that Shalini had so carefully built.

It was raining outside – as if the Gods, angry at the earth, were lashing out their tongues filled with venom. It reminded Shalini of the mail that had shaken her delicate world of impossible dreams – Nikhil had spewed venom at her in almost the same way for feeling for him! And she could not hate him, Yet she could not forget those innocent expressions that became even more childish when he got high, Yet she could not forget those rare moments of false togetherness, Yet she could not forget the man who blamed her for seducing him that night when he himself knew better than anyone else how true his allegations were. Yet she could not forget NIKHIL!

It Happened One Night - Chapter 1

“You look so very different,” beamed Nikhil with a rare twinkle in his otherwise expressionless eyes. Is this the same woman he had seen almost a year back, he wondered? Certainly not with those well-defined brows that accentuated the inebriant effect of the big, brown eyes – the only attractive thing he ever found in the otherwise plain face. He now noticed a strange glow that enamoured him momentarily as their cheeks brushed past in a most ordinary embrace. For once he almost jumped at the invitation from those fair, warm arms that had never interested him before.

Shalini couldn’t stop smiling at this unusual appreciation in Nikhil’s eyes, especially the obvious desire that was flickering in them without his knowing it. A woman’s eyes can hardly read that wrong. “Do I”? She retorted. “Well, from what I remember of you- you haven’t. Not an inch!”

“In that case you certainly seem to have forgotten how I looked. I have…”

“A little paunch now, that wasn’t there before- probably a result of too much of studies and overdrinking without any sea breeze to keep you going! And your eyes…they do seem to have acquired a little more life…Nikhil, I don’t forget things so easily or so soon.” The last part was a last minute addition smeared with a smile, thanks to the flustered look on his face. It surprised him how someone as stupid as Shalini almost read his mind! He gave a full-throated laugh to change the situation and it worked somehow. His mind however denied any other thoughts while he kept on noticing the little changes that almost transformed her from as simple duckling to a gorgeous swan. Nikhil smiled to himself at this rather unusual comparison – a sailor from the very heart- how could he move too far away from the water!

“Hi sweetheart, looking very pretty today,” quipped Vikas, quickly taking her side,” but then you always do”!

“Stop flirting, Vikas. You know that it is easy to understand when you mean things and when you don’t” Shalini smiled.

“ That’s the problem, you never take me seriously,” said Vikas in mock anger. “ By the way, you know Uday don’t you? Hey, where’s Preeti by the way?”

“Preeti’s on her way and NO, I haven’t had the fortune of getting introduced though I’ve heard a lot ‘bout him – Hi Uday, am Shalini…”

5 minutes after this 2 engines roared up as a flock of youth raced towards the nearest movie hall for the most recent horror flick.
Throughout the movie, Nikhil could hardly concentrate on anything but the surprise that by some stroke of luck was sitting right next to him. And every time their hands brushed or she involuntarily gave him look or smile his steely reserve
seemed to weaken a bit. Back in the car on the way back who would sit next to him but Shalini. ‘How can one drive like this’ he muttered to himself as he put his car on the third gear. Out on the main road suddenly Uday’s green Indica swerved from behind blocking his way. Screeching to a halt, he enquired about what made them stop in the middle of nowhere in particular at that unearthly hour.

Apparently Uday, along with the ‘Gang’ had decided a ‘Nite out” at his apartment and so the ones in the other car needed to be intimidated about the change in plans. So instead of the usual stop in front of the Institute they would have to go further ahead towards Navi Mumbai. For a second Nikhil was stunned at this sudden twist of fate, then it made him slightly irritated. And to top it all he could hardly understand the actual reasons for his mood swings. Vinay slept on at the back seat while oblivious to and unmoved by all these Shalini hummed on along with Shania Twain,
“Looks like we’ve made it,
Look how far we’ve come, my baby…”

Brishtite....

A stolen moment...

As reality the hits...

The drive down the same crowded road that takes her to office every day – was as monotonous as it was on any other day. Her thoughts were gradually making a headway for the escape through the little window that was gifted to her, thanks to the grudging colleague of hers sitting in the seat in front. This was an issue everyday. Everyday? It seems like an eternity since she has been taking this route to work! It has actually been just about three months.

“Why do you have to push the glass so far…I can’t even breathe?”

‘So how had you been breathing all this while with the glass completely closed?’ She murmured under her breath, trying to balance the share of open window space, but taking allowances, never the less. She needed this much, no matter what. It always struck her as marvelous how people can sit in cars or busses with the windows drawn! ‘What else is there to do but to look out and see the same passing scenes everyday’ she often wondered. And then everyday it all had a new look…the people standing, passing by, trying board some bus, tram, auto or any other mode of conveyance were new everyday. Sometimes she did manage to see a few familiar faces now and then but mostly they were fresh faces.

Spring was in the air…she could smell it. Although the weather seemed to be behaving in its own peculiar way off late, but the trees and the blue sky spoke else. They spoke to her, they heard her, they smiled at her, smiled with her – the trees with their fresh green leaves budding gradually to life, the brightly blooming flowers…Office would be another 10 minutes but she loved this stretch through this part of the city. Almost everything was properly organized here…the streets seemed to invite for a little stroll at any given point of the day! And the best part was the trees that lined almost each stretch of road around each locality. Stretching her neck out of the bus like a puppy, she closed her eyes to feel the air on her face and through her hair, to smell the strange spring scent.

Her solitary confinement venue would be lovely now…all bathed in spring! Blue skies, brown stretching land, green fields and flaming red, yellow and orange flowers atop mighty trees…a full round moon at night with a thousand glow worms celebrating the festival of lights in their own sweet time. The smell of the earth, soaked in the beams of the full moon, the distant gurgling of the dam waters, the sudden mechanical hum of a passing train at the nearby station…how they called her…how they mesmerized her…how they enticed her!

The simple and ordinary beckoned her with an uncanny power, she thought to herself. Unlike what is stated in her star sign, she was not all for the classy things in life…a simple cup of tea in an earthen pot was more welcome to her than served in a bone china set! ‘This was all about life…the natural way, the way it was, and the way we are forgetting every moment!’

The fifteen minute trip over, back to the confinements of an artificially illumined and conditioned state facing a stupid square box! Spring…winter…summer…rains…in here it’s all the same!!!!! Welcome REALITY!!!!

Khobor e feature...

Achha 16th March 2007...ki korchilam bolo toh?Hmmm...16th March...2007...ki chilo?Robibar?Kono chutir din?Calendar ta ulte palte dekha gelo...na...e to mongolbaar...ritimoto sopateher majhamajhi!Tobe??? Oh...Shei Bandh? Mane arekta din noshto...Noshtoi toh?Ke kon Nanadigram niye pore ache tai jonyo ekta din noshto...achha eta kono solution bolo toh... oboshyo ek dike bhaloi...soptaher majhkhane emon chutir din mondo lage na...CHUTI CHUTI CHUTI....

Mohilar r kaaj nei...kichu holo na, omni Bandh...nije holla kore berabe r amader chuti...

Khobor e feature...Kolkatar rastay tar doler lok oshanti korche, Jor kore bus, tram, gari atkachhe jate loke office na jete pare...tai to aj r jawa holo na, nahole toh...Oboshyo gondogol hobe ach korei r sokal theke berobar tarao nei...chuti jokhon holoi...ektu ayesh kore katanoi jak!

Khobor e feature...Nanadigram, Tamluk hospital e ahoto der dekhte gechilo etara...ahoto...police er gulite hoy mrito, nahoy ahoto...Sarkari shutre prokash je 14 jon mara gechen...ebong tara police ke jotheshto jaliyechilen, tai to badhyo hoyei...r tachara montri moshai o to tai bolechilen...(kono attoglanir towakka na kore) tini to bolechen "Ghotonati durbhagyojonok"

Khobor e feature...Bandh e rastate anonde matowara cricket premira...kono bondher porowa na kore, tader criket khela parar more more r golay uchhash, bharoter ashonno bishwo cup soforer mongol kamonay...porone tader dami jamakapor...keta durusto saj goj...r mukhe "Hoo Haa India...Aya India"...Bondher porowa nei, kono onubhutio nei...

Khobor e feature...Shahrukh 42 e paa dilen...E jabot bollywood er byastotomo ebong sofolotomo nayok aste aste aro porinito hochhen (Onader boyesh bare na...onara 'mature' hon sudhu)

Khobor e feature...aro koto ki...

Khobor e kintu feature hoyni...je Sonachura gram er jonoiko shyamal babu tar stri, chele, bou ke hariye felechen, hoyto chirotore...ba hoyto khuje paben, khoto bikhhoto obosthay konodin!
Khobor e feature hoyni je police r gulite more kaath hoye pore thaka bachha cheleta jomi bachate police ke it chhure mareni...

Khobor e feature hoyni je police charao aro jeno ke ba kara guli churechilo osohay chashigulor buke, pithe, mathay, golay...

Khobor e feature hoy ni je 22 ta deho udhhar hoyeche prothom dine...tar por aro koto...kono khale, kon nalay, kon pother dhare...aro koto...

Khobore e feature hoy ni je e jomi chole gele tara r bachte parbe na...

Khobor e feature hoy ni aro koto kichu...

Ghire dhore kuasha jokhon....

Jonoiko pathok...

Gotokal raate moner kotha likhechilam dukhhobilashita korar jonyo noy...kono osubidhabhogi ke koruna korar jonyo noy. Ek jonoiko bhodrolok amar lekha pore onek kotha bollen...tar songe kotha bolte parle khub sukhi hotam kintu durbhagyo...take khuje pelam na...ogyate thekei tini amake pothe neme swopno puroner jonyo kaj korte bolechen...Ei ashay likhchi ebar je tini hoyto aro ekbar porben amar lekha...

Ami sahityik noi je dukhhobilashita kore du poysha ay korbo...ami nehat ei projonmer khub sadharon akjon manush...kintu sotti ami pothe nemechilam, nam bo o barbar...ashole amader, bishesh kore meyeder jibongulo boddo got e badha thake...khub shahosh ebong support na pele amader moto 90% meyera ei swopno dekhei jibon katiye dey...ekta osompurno jibon...tarao kintu chay, khub mon theke chay je je bachhata haath bariye rastar dhare tar kache poysha chaiche sheo ekdin r poysha na cheye soman hobe tar...kintu oi duchokh mele swopno dekhai shaar...baki oneker songe jokhon take jete hoy ketadurusto, dami restoray tokhon kintu bhetor theke jontrona kure khay take...bibeker kache porishkar noy bole noy...kichu na korte parar osohayotay!!!!

R jeshob manush nijeder porishkar bibek niye KFC te boshe 'poorest of the poor er defination niye torker jhor tole r asha kore amar moto je kono ekdin hotat kore ei nicher manush gulo gorje uthbe-kere nebe tader sukh-souvagger odhikar' tader ke ami boli 'hypocrite'....aaj ami ei kotha gulo likhte perechi, jonoiko pathok, karon ami pothe nemechilam tader sathe jader gorje othar swopno ami dekhi...nambo baar baar...poth khujchi ekhon...ekta sottikarer poth...natok kore unnoyoner naame prohoshon noy...jonoiko pathok...Moithye ashfalon kore lekha lekhi kora oproyojonio amar kache...ami ekjon SOCIAL WORKER by education!!!!Mumbai ebong Kolkatar sheshob tothakothito nongra, ghinji bostite kaj korechi 4 bochor...pothe nemei...tader songe ek thalay khabar, ek ghotite jol kheyei...kintu NGO sector er hypocracy tene eneche amake aj tader theke dure...nijeke tai ghenna kori proti muhurte...

Kintu amar swopno more ni...morbe na konodin...tai konodin bibeker kache khub porishkar hoyeo KFC r thanda ghore kacher epare boshe kheye, poorest of the poor er definition niye torko kore, subhidhebhogir oboshor katanor ei rastay hete, bill mitiye beriye jawar poreo amar swopner mrithyu nei...protibar nijeke kotakhho kori paliye ashar jonyo...kintu amar roshod sei kacher opare footpath e bosha mukhgulo!!!!

Protidhwoni shunte pai ki?

Mor gaayer simanar paharer opare
Nishotho ratrir protidhwoni shuni ami
Kaan pete shuni ami bujhite na pari
Chokh mele dekhi ami dekhite na pari
Chokh buje bhabi ami dhorite na pari
Hajaar pahar ami dingote na pari...

Kothay ar sei gram?Shohorer hajar awaj chhapiye kono protidhwonio ki pare amader kache pouchote..."Korner poth dhore morome poshite"?Ekhon kaane ashe cycles rickshaw r horn, othoba kono boro garir horn...othoba dure kono nirmiyoman bari nirmaner shobdo...ei jantrikotar juge manusher awaj ki sotti pouchoy amader kane?Manusher kannar awaj? Hote pare koto ki awaj ja shunte peleo bujhi na...chini na...chinte chai na?Shunte pai na?Dekhte pai na TV khullei manusher loraiyer shobdo?

Naki amader kaan bhore thake Himesh Reshammia r matha jhion jhon kora "Jhalak dikhlaja...ek baar aja aja..."Unmotter moto jokhon kono night club e nachi amra somosto dukhho bhule tokhon thik sei hotel er bairei ek ordho nogno nari tar koler sontantike matite shui ye duhaat pete bhikhhye chay bhetore dhoka boibhobi manushgulor kache....ebong tar ei pagolini beshe khanikta bhoy peyei dur diyei hete jete chai amra...

Park Street er jomkalo notun KFC te burger khete jawa amra ei notun juger modhyobitto torun projonmo...ekbaro ki bhabi je kacher ultodike footpath er ordho ulongo bachhata jokhon gograshe burger khawa amader dike cheye thake...tokhon nijeke prithibir nikrishto tomo jeeb mone kora uchit kina?Thik kotha...amader ache tai amra khai...amader ache tai amra orai...achha amader to onek ache...kono din ki perechi tao oi bachhaguloke bhetor theke kichu kine ene khete dite?Parini...ki atkeche amader?Janina...parechi tader pashe boshe tader moto korei khete?Parini....

Torko hotei pare je parte jaboi ba keno...eta amader prithibi r ota oder...jeta je peyeche seta tar odhikar...kintu amra ki ei jibon nijeder odhikar e peyechi na bhagyer jore?Aaj nijer barite boshe computer e blog likhte parchi ami...seta ki amar odhikar er aotay pore...na soubhagyer?Aaj eder uddeshye ei sohomormita amar bilashita!!!Korte parchi tai....kintu jodi na partam...jodi ami hotam tader jaygay tobe amar ei shob bhabna chinta ki kore pouchoto karor kachei?Aaj tumi, ba tomra amar ei blog dekhe bolbe "Baah, sotti ki sundor chinta" othoba..."Hoyto thik i bolecho" kintu tao sudhui soubhagyo!!!!!

Opekhya korchi sei diner....jedin amar notun sei bhore choker patay lege thaka kuasha shore jabe....notun kore jege uthe manush gorjabe...tader sei manob sagorer kolahole hajar pahar porbe bhenge....abar shunte parbo notun diner pododhwoni...

Khachar bhetor ochin pakhi...

Aaj onek din pore ekta gaan shune mone holo je emon sohoj kore emon kotha bola jay othocho amra jibontake koto na jotil kore boshe achi....kothay jachhi amra?Bhalobashar emon byakhya keu konodin dite pereche?

Khachar bhitor ochin pakhi
Kemne ashe jay
Tare dhorte parle mono beri
Ditam pakhir paye...

Aat kuthuri noy dorja ata
Modhye modhye jholka kata
Tar upore sodor kotha
Ayna mohol tay…

Kopaler fer noile ki ar
Pakhitir emon byabohar
Khacha bhenge pakhi amar
Kon bone lukay…

Mon tui roili khachar ashe
Khacha je tor kacha bashe
Kon din khacha porbe khoshe
Fokir lalon kede koy…

Lalon tumi ke??????????

The dancing trinkets...

I started when I hardly knew how to aesthetically move my little body...vigorously I learnt the technicalities...It was tough but the tinkling sound of the bells made it appear like a dream, a dream of dancing my way into the hearts of millions...the traditional 'Riyaz' in front of the mirror was a fantastic experience...as if the mirror transcended the glass boundaries and I was performing on a stage with a huge gathering of spectators looking admiringly at me...The 'Ghungroos' got heavier as the count of the trinkets increased with every passing year...the sound of 400 bells chiming together...was like a treat to the ears as I went on practising one 'Thaat' after another...They were like jewels to me...preserved with love and reverence...I hardly remember handling anything else with so much care as I did with them...

Yesterday while clearing a lot of old belongings, they were found...in a dirty old bag, tucked up in some corner of the house...a bag full of 'Ghungroos'...tinkling again in their own way...in a flash...I was again standing in front of a huge crowd in a darkened hall, in the midst of my performance...I had wanted to become a dancer...and my 'Ghungroos' were the steps to realize my dreams...and there they were lying in utter disregard...For a moment I hated myself...one more added to the bag of my 'wanted to be and could not be's...this loosing self kills me every moment!!!!

My granny gave the 'Ghungroos' to my little niece who now dances...and now proudly owns them...as for them...well...they could well be mocking me and promises to brighten the life and dreams of yet another young girl, singing to themselves...
'Kabhi is pag me kabhi us pag me
Bajta hi raha hoon main....'

Wahi kahani...

Muhalle ki sabse purani nishani
Woh buriya jise bacche kehte the nani
Woh nani ki baaton mein pariyon ka dera
Woh chehre ki jhurriyo mein sadiyo ka fera
Bhulaye nahi bhul sakta hai koi
Woh chhoti si raatein woh lambi kahani...

The immortal tale of human life...

Ekti jongli phool...

Hajar naam na jana jongli phooler majheo phote kichu porichoy bahok jongli phool...gondho tader hoy eki rokom...baki phoolgulor i moton, kintu porichoy dey tader ek odhikar ja tader gondho, borno, rong, roop...shobetei bhore dey protyoy...tate bhor kore tara matha tule daray baki phooleder modhye theke...aaj nahoy likhlam tader i ek jonke niye...

Du din age futeche ar ek jongli phool...ki tar jibonishokti...ki tar rong....porichoy boye eneche she...tai tar i oudhhotye she boliyan...naam tar hote pare...Pitish...ba Jirhul...ba Orjun...othoba Jacaranda...tar gayer jongli gondho, tar jongli swobhab bhoriye debe sobar mon...uttoradhikare onek kichu peyeo baki shob jongli fuler motoi buk chitiye jor golay sheo bolbe...sei ek kotha...

"I had an inheritance from my father:
It was the moon and the sun;
I can move through the world now
The spending of it is never done."

Mayer kach theke peyeche she tar jibon...jar bole boliyan hoye she pari debe jibon sagore...tene niye jabe koto jhore talmatal nouko parer dike...

Rudro nil...se ekti jibon...ekti ostitwo...ekti jongli phool.....

Nesha.....

Ek cup chaye ami tomake chai.....boi r patay ami tomake chai.....
Chai...chai...chai...sudhu chai er bhire hariye jete chai.....

Dewaler kotha...

Ami du haat petechi...

Swopno dekhechilam...onek kichu bodle dewar...ekta notun prithibi jekhane protyek manusher bacher odhikar thakbe...gonotontrer prokrito chobi dekhabe je prthibi...kintu aaj kon rajye bash korchi?Jekhane samanyo kotha bolar odhikar karor nei...sekhane sukher prithibi!!!!Othocho ekhono to lorche keu keu...othocho amar o to lorar kotha chilo...kotha chilo oder pashe thakar, oder jonyo lorar...kintu polatoker moto aj nijer gha guloke lukiye...khobor r blog pore kanna chapchi...r sei shob gaan mone porche jegulo bachato amake...ekhono bachay...

Ami shashok goshthi chini na...birodhi pokhho chini na...ami chini manush...jara protidin lore jibon dharoner jonyo...unnoyoner sathe ratarati tader songsthan kere newa kono orthonoitik unnotir poth dekhate pare na...Jedin shopoth niyechilam manusher pashe darabar sedin pran khule geyechilam..."Is liye raah sangharsh ki hum chune...zindagi ansuo mein nahayi na ho...shaam sehmi na ho raat ho na dari..bhor ki aankh fir dabdabai na ho..."...aaj kothay amar sei protyoy?

Amar oti priyo bondhu achen ei shob er ekebare majkhane...take janai hajar obhinondon...nije na korte parar okhhomota...othocho take niye hajaar utkontha...ki oshohay ami...bishwash kori ami tader kothay...bishwash kori tader songrame...kintu aaj ami nirupay...sotti nirupay...amar sahosh nei, khomota nei...nei songsthan...r nei upay...

Moushumi dir ei gaanta sotti protibaar kaday...sotti chokh mele royechi...astha harano mon niye...

'Ami shunechi sheydin tumi shagorer dheu e chepe
Neel jol digonto chhuye eshechho
Ami shunechi sheydin tumi nonabali teer dhore
Bohudur bohudur hete eshecho
Ami kokhono jaine jole kokhono bhashini neele
Kokhono rakhini chokh dana mela gangcheele
Abar jedin tumi shomudro snane jaabe
Amakeo shathe nio, nebe to amay?
Bolo, nebe to amay?

Ami shunechi sedin naki tumi, tumi, tumi meele
Tomra shodolbole shobha korechile
Ar sedin tomra naki onek joteel dhadha
Na bola onek kotha - kotha tulechhile
Keno sudhu chhute chhuthe chola, eki eki kotha bola
Nijer jonye bnacha nijeke niye
Jodee bhalobasha nai thake shudhu eka eka lage
Kothay shanti pabo, kothay giye?
Bolo kothay giye?

Ami shunechi tomra naki ekhono shopno dekho
Ekhono golpo lekho, gan gao pran bhore
Manusher bacha mora ekhono bhabiye tole
Tomader bhalobasha ekhono golape fote
Astha harano ei mon niye aami aaj
Tomader kache eshe du hat petechi
Ami duchokher gohobore shunnota dekhi shudhu
Raat ghume ami kono shopno dekhina
Tai shopno dekhbo bole - ami du chokh melechi
Tai tomader kache eshe ami du hat petechi...'