Art & Crafts

The Bouquet

by

Excuse Me! – Perhaps she told for the second time. She was standing near to me.

“Is that seat no. 8 ?” – She asked politely pointing to the empty window side seat near to me. She was to be my co-traveler on seat no. 8.

I wiped my wet eyes under the specs with hanky. My lost attention from the world of feelings came back to the real practical world.

“Yeah sure!” – I tried to be normal and replied with a possible smile. I came out of my seat to give her way in. Volvo AC buses have enough
space to but the hand baggage. As I reached early, I had already put my bag and my flower bouquet there, so there was relatively less space to put her bag. While standing, she was thinking to put her bag in the luggage space.

“Let me do, I shall keep it.” – I said and took her bag from her. I guessed that my bouquet was taking more space than it needed. I took out the flower bouquet out and kept her bag there. In between the space of my bag and her, I made some space and put the bouquet. Now there was not enough space for the bouquet to lie comfortable. Now one fourth of bouquet along with Orchids were hanging out from the luggage space.

“Thank you” – She told.

“Its Okey”- I gave her way in. She went inside and sat in her window seat.

She looked fair wheatish complexion girl wearing cream colored t-shirt and denim jeans. Though her “excuse me” ascent had pure metro touch but her waist length three pleated tied hairs suggested that her preference to Indian ness again. While keeping her bag I saw the company name “Accenture” on it. May be the company she was working for.

On my seat, I closed my eyes again.

And as started from noon, my headache was unbearable. I closed my eyes again. But since last two hours -don’t know why, the vibrations echoed again and again – the words of Riya – I heard over phone at noon just after I came out the bouquet shop. She never wanted to meet me.

But inside the bus, I wanted to keep my eyes open. The mental situation was, if I open my eyes, my first glance used to go to the big glass in front of driver’s seat – to check if Riya might have come to bus stop and searching me around.

Still 5 minutes were left there before the bus start. Though the mobile was consistently in my hand, it may be the hundredth time I checked out if there was any missed call or a SMS. Some times I felt hallucination that Riya is around here and she called me – “Aakash”.

But she did neither come nor did call me back. More I thought on the words – Riya told me – more migraine type headache was there. I wished to go out of bus for few minutes and sit in the dark corner of bus stand and cry aloud. I wanted some relaxation, even for the moment from the headache that I was suffering.

The girl near my seat took out her earphones and played some soft rock in her i-Pod, as sounds were enough clear to me too. I didn’t have mp3 players. I wished for some time, I should ask for her earphones – may some music help to stop the vibrations of those words in my ears.

Taking out my specs, with the finger tips of my both hands, I tried to massage the area above nose, after wiping my eyes. I was still uncomfortable – and the girl now marked it.

“Any problem ? ” – She asked.

“No, its okey.” – I replied.

“No I just thought you are not well.” – She assured herself and so do I. Her voice though not very soft like my sister, but had some kind of soothing effect that time. And again it was a voice of a girl – I wanted to avoid that – but could not.

The bus started – and the girl did Pranaam touching the forhead with two fingers to forehead and then to neck. Might she did it habitually as many person do while starting the journey.

I was returning back to Bangalore without meeting Riya. I was looking out from the window. The girl was sitting folding hands together. But this girl again reminded of Riya. Do Riya look like her?

The bus was passing through the well illuminated night streets of the metro town. I was consistently seeing outside the window. Might Riya lived in these some streets. But don’t know when my pupils got wet and I had to carry out my hanky again.

Inside the town, the roads had speed breakers in large numbers. At those points the bus used to get slight jerks. In one of similar spot, on the jerk of bus, some little thing from the cabin baggage and fell down on the girl’s lap. It was a purple Orchid from the bouquet. As she was picking it up, with a consequetive jerk one another Pink Orchid fall on her.

I felt bad as the way flowers were falling from above. She picked them up.

“Nice Flowers !” – she told looking at me and picked them up, she got up slightly and put them back into the bouquet.

These words were though complimentary, but was not helping my mental situation any more. Again they were enough to remind me those words of Riya – she told me afternoon. I was unable to believe why Riya told me such things. Was I worth those words? I closed my eyes – the words reverberated my ears. I took out hanky to wipe my eyes in front of a girl !

I was not interested in her words anymore. But one thing I wanted from her. Her i-pod. I knew that’s the only medicine, that may relax me. Asking from a stranger girl was a big challenge and at the time, when she is hearing. But I needed something in the ears.

I thought to keep my ego aside and wished if I can hear her i-Pod for some time, if at least she had any soft corner at her heart.

“Can you let me hear your i-pod for some time?” – I requested her after opening my eyes and moving my head towards her.

She took out her earphones. “Ohk ! you want ? ” – Her expression was affirmative but she was not ready for this request from a stranger.

“Yeah, not feeling well ! Just some music, I want to hear. ” I said her honestly. And I added -” Do you have some Ghazals ?”

“Jagjit !” – She asked.

“Do you have that?” – I was surprised, so did asked.

“Mera fav. (My favourite) “ She replied with a slight giggle and she choose out the tracks and offered me the earphones.

The i-Pod sound was really a great thing- the feeling of a live concert.

Again this was a ghazal lyrics meant something, generated a deep urge again to call Riya for one more ‘last time’. While I was searching for her name, again her words haunted me hard, overriding the ghazals. Now instead of “call” button I thought to press “switch off” button. But I did not.

I was feeling bad as I was using her i-Pod and guilty for myself, as I am using her i-pod. Even then for around 20 minutes, closing my eyes, I was listening tracks after tracks and the girl was looking out of the window. The bus moved out of the town.

At Reliance Petrol pump the bus stopped for fuel. The inside lights were switched on. I took out my earphones, wiped them and offered her back.

“Thanks a lot ! ” – I said

“Its okay” – she replied and added “If want, you can hear more.” I was feeling much obliged for the soft corner in her heart.

“Nah listened enough, I have some work.” – I replied with a smile. I took out my dairy from bag and pen from pocket to write down an impromptu poem to purge out my inner turmoil. I kept the dairy back inside the magazine holder hanging in front of my seat.

The girl continued to hear with ghazals, as sounds and tracks were enough clear to be heard to me too. Though I felt uncomfortable place to write a poem there, I had to hide from the girl what I was writing.

The bus was coming out of the petrol pump towards the highway but suddenly it took a sudden break, as some stray Animal was passing by.
With this sudden break, we seemed to bent forwards and consequently some rose petals and again a purple Orchid from the hanging bouquet fell on her neck.

Within a while the bus moved smoothly on the highway. I guessed this girl will crush me for carrying such things and keeping there.

“Nice Orchids !” was her compliment again and she put them back and adjusted back the bouquet moving inside slightly

“Some one presented?” – she asked with a smile adding to the compliment.

“No” I replied and moved my head towards the boring video. But I could not stop to add “Was to be presented.”

“Okey, you bought for someone!” and she put her earplugs again.

I did not reply.

In the bus I don’t know when a video had started. Some movie of Sunil Shetty was going on.

“I dislike this fellow (Sunil Shetty – the main character of movie) ” she told me , “What kind of boring movie they put !”

I was not much a movie buff, so I could not talk with her much about the movie, me too felt that it was boring movie and the CD being played is scratched one.

Though interesting were the formal talks, but still I was not interested in her talks much, as again she was again a stranger of journey. But all her talks were taking me to my past and the woman’s voice – the words – Riya told me over phone, when I was packing bouquet for her that noon. I was just nodding.

Taking my hanky on face I closed my eyes – as neither had I wanted to see the movie nor I wanted to talk with the girl.

At the dinner time, the bus stopped again near to a good dhaba. I wanted to have some dinner. And the girl preferred to keep sitting, as she had some snacks with her in the bus. I came down and ordered a dinner plate. Since morning I had nothing that can be as meals. While taking dinner, with the recurring thoughts, still I could not finish the half dinner plate. I paid the bill and came out of dhaba. While other passengers were having sumptuous dinner, I walked around the bus. For around 25 minutes, the bus stood there. I got into the bus when driver started the engine.

She was having some “Goodday ” biscuit. She offered me with a friendly gesture. I took half biscuit though I was still hungry – to be exact not for food, but some soothing words.

May Riya call me up.

The girl on seat no. 8, though I was avoiding her, the fact was, she was an outgoing personality, I am sure. We talked formally. She was from Pune, but born of mixed culture parents. She worked at Accenture as Database Administrator. And was inspiring for CAT 2007. She brought up the topics of monday office that both of us had to reach. Subsequently, she brought up the topic of movies and than hobbies including blogging and to my surprise poems. Her liking was Chayavadi writers of Hindi. Hariwansha Rai’s Madhushala was her favourite.

While talking about poems, I remembered and saw my diary, kept in the front magazine holder, just sometime ago, I have written down a poem. The diary seemed to be kept in different direction than I kept. For a moment, I thought this girl might had read my diary, while I was down for dinner. May be she knew that, I was writing a poem at petrol pump stoppage. But I crushed myself for bringing up such a suspicious thought on a stranger girl, who was kind enough to lend me her i-Pod to hear. Might I myself have kept diary like that, as I was not in a sound mental condition.

We talked again on some other topics, but I was less interested still than her.

After some 20 minutes, she pulled out the earphones and spread up her blanket over her. I tried to sleep watching the boring movie and tired body.

I didn’t knew that when I slept. I suddenly became conscious when around late night, I found that I had my head lying on her shoulders, unknowingly. I felt really awkward. I positioned myself and slept again – but headache was less now.

I wake up around 6:20 pm and saw the morning at Bangalore. She woke up much before me perhaps, and sitting straight as if she was ready to get down, though Bus Stand was still 10 minutes away.

My guess was correct.

“I will get down here near Flyover.” and she told came out with her bag.

She bid me bye and went near to door to get down. This professional styled “bye” I disliked most.

She got down. The waist length hair though not much thick, but reminded me something. She looked more fair than, what I saw in night. She walked away and disappeared.

I was to get down the main bus stop after 5 minutes. The bus entered the bus stop and everyone was ready to get down. Being though I was sitting on the front seats, still I didn’t felt hurry to get down. There was a deep feeling that, my journey was incomplete.

All passengers got down. An elderly person and me were taking the luggage out. I decided to leave the flower bouquet inside the bus only, pushing it more inside the luggage cabin.

On the seat no. 8, I saw more rose petals and Orchids were lying, might have fallen the overnight.

I took out the diary from the magazine space. And I saw a white paper like ticket sneaking out from my diary, that was tucked inside my diary.

It looked same just like my bus ticket only. But my ticket was kept in my purse – how it came here?

I saw the reverse side of the ticket. It was someone else’s ticket. In the reverse blank area in a curly handwriting – someone had written.

“Best of wishes for your poems – I loved them. ” – Anu83@_ _ _ _ _ .com.

“What !!” – I was dumb struck. I saw again the seat no. 8 to recall the lady and the ticket at the same time. Was this the reason that at Dhaba, the diary changed its direction? – “She wrote it, but when?”

I was not willing to carry this complimentary ticket with me. I felt as my flower bouquet though now may be one day old one, but – that needed it more than me.

I pulled out the flower bouquet from the luggage cabin and gently tucked the complimentary ticket deep inside the flower bouquet. I kissed the bouquet. I kept it inside the luggage cabin again.

I came down the bus as last passenger.

Making Myself Smart

by

I am a small town’s ordinary guy, looking khalis XYZ… stumbled into this corporate world. I am writing it, as I want to look smart.

Today, Reebok logo sneaks out from my shoes ! To mention, I took care of that logo while purchasing the shoe as it should be seen prominently. My grandma will laugh aloud, if she hears the price. But I have to buy that one here for so called my feet’s comfort and of course a show off !

While walking, I do take care that my branded jean’s logo sticker reflects itself from my butt. Levis Strauss will get at least one compliment from my colleague. I preferred to change my specs and replaced with newer frameless ones, from the showroom of Lawrence and Mayo. My T-Shirt declares that – I am imported Nike. I walk composed with effervescence of some fine deo into the air around, as girls like them !

With so many self learnt tricks of looking smart, I learnt the art of saying “Hi” after widening my lips.

I am trying to adapt the metro culture here in Bangalore.

Though I am a avid lover of movies especially thematic ones, since last one year in Bangalore, with such nice multiplexes, I still have to enter some hall. May be its going to be 2 years that I have been to a cinema hall. Blame not still having allocated money to be spent for my dear-friends or not having sufficient time on weekends. I do wish to go, but when my own people will be around here ! Funny, is not !

Its my personal preference that, my real life activity partners and friends don’t even appear in the friend list of Orkut, whoever there are, better to call them acquaintances. Some of them never registered even there.

Keep reading, now to confess, few days back, I did asked one of my expert classmate, what is flirting ! He laughed a lot, and gave me some tips. I wished, had I learnt them earlier. Similarly last year I asked another friend, what is dating. What girls and guys do in dating ? Shy… I felt while I asked the question. Though I don’t want to appear dumb, but wanted to know, as small towns doesn’t give much opportunity to learn this art/science of knowing the opposite sex better !

In metro, these lessons seem necessary for majority of smart junta. Experimentation / time pass / natural need of sharing emotions, and of course, knowing each other may be basic purpose of dating. Though after writing this post again, I may not fit the dating frame. So I sit on net with my eyes wide open. Now in the orkuted world, I went through many the profiles and found these are the things, which ‘turns on’ the people and are needed, as per today’s open culture.

Anyway in real life, as not matured enough, I miss a bigger circle here, and hence the scopes of enjoyment available, as I didn’t learnt the art of occassional cocktail parties, flirting, making fun of silly action of others and to show off my branded butt.

On last sunday, my hopping into the popular book stacks at Landmark, gave me the conclusion that – there are tallest stacks of the books – “Five Point Someone ” and “A night at Call Center”. I have long back finished them off. Well written ones. Near by other stacks of books are APJ Abdul kalam’s national dreams and personality development books (that I rarely read). I have been given enough diet of life leading Sanskrit slokas in childhood only.

And the whole episode of these different popular book stacks suggests the changing pattern of life style of Gen-X ( hence reading ).

Fast food is everything – be it literature after using less and less brain to understand it, add fun to life, and dreams of a golden India, and fastest personality development methods – yes there are countable number of methods to develop the personality. Cook well and serve them – ready to eat and digest.

Worth to mention here, body hugging t-shirt and jeans girls are looking smarter than small town shy salwar-kurta girls. Cool and S*** – two words can be used to flirt with girls here ! I do feel envy of pairs, hand tied at the restaurants. Have to scold / make fun of some one – use F***.

The fact is this culture is trying to attract me and I am trying to be myself – mixing up two blends. The perfect cocktail. Even if, have I been blessed to be in that circle with all joys, I could never been happy at the end of day.

To me are the blessed points, as I am happy and content with myself and a job – that I really love to do, my creative hobbies and my real activity partners here / net.

For the instances of look, I started to write, I do wish I would have been happier, if I could walk into my Bata Jubilee  leather sandals, and unknown company’s jean’s sticker covered with my kurta with natural giggles, and do participate in some cultural groups around and feel, Yeah I am doing something for my inner satisfaction !

Hope, I do look smart !

Gauri and Budhiya

by

Dedicating to a characteristic – when a creature want to live for others, and she made me keep writing again.

Gauri was our cow 18 years old !

I reached home 24th Feb. early morning. And apart from human pairs of eyes, a so called animal’s eyes seemed waiting for me. Whether just for me, I don’t know.

Casual roaming around home premises, I saw her, our Gauri sitting permanently beside the walls, with occasional drops of tear flowing down her eyes. She was being feed in sitting posture since last few days as her hind legs got paralyzed without any specific reason.

I suggested Sambhu, our caretaker of cattle, to feed her favorite green grass (dub) , with that she may gain strength. She always needed our touch. I put more paddy straws, under her immobile belly as in these days we still needed quilts in night there. Veterinary uncle, who know all of our cattle, suggested not to put any treatment pressure on her legs. Let her live to her best, as she is.

And today is 2nd March. In the very morning, we all had wet eyes, as Gauri seemed to appear in just sitting posture but actually she left for the heavenly abode.

Green grass was still lying still in her basket. And a straw of yellow straw, she seemed chewing. None could believe that she is no more.

Ma told not to cry at all, as on cow’s peaceful death, one should not cry. Though controlled, was she honest really to herself !

Prior night, at dinner table we discussed about her falling health, but we all failed to get a glimpse at night of hers in talking other things, and we thought she will live for some more time or may gain back her strength to stand. Though I guessed that she might recover with some miracle, but I had a faint thought, if I leave for Bangalore after three days, will I be able to see her again.

She died with a wish of bearing a calf ever.

Our determination to keep an infertile cow for 18 years was a matter of non-sense decision with loads of suggestions around. For children playing cricket in front of our house, Gauri, having a short stature, was a matter of love, as she was the simpler than anything. Annoying point was that, she was the object of desire for the animal brokers!

To the needed persons, ma’s reply used to be “Her mother fed my all children, can’t I keep her last one without asking for milk.”

As Civil Surgeons’ specially regulated medicines and other uterine treatments, traditional medicines, and best possible fertility treatments could not help her conceive a calf ever.

Another reason we kept her without asking for anything was, Ma could not see the last day of her mother. Her mother budhiya was Ma’s best company to feed us with her nutritious milk.

On memorizing Budhiya’s last days, her voice saddens always.

—————————–$———————————-

From our farmlands in suburbs, majority of cattle feeding requirements fulfilled, we do keep cows as per Hindu traditions. The purpose never was or is for economical benefits from cattle, cows only, now just two. May be it’s for auspicious reasons and having pure milk of home.

Budhiya, was our first cow bought to feed my infant sister, Pinky. Her milk used to be full of cream. As we grew, we got habituated to take dudh-roti ( milk-bread ) after dinner daily and we saw several of her calves growing as we grew up. Most of her calves grown into milking cows and few to ox – sent to other places. Though the cows were never sold, was given to others.

Gauri was born as last calf of “Budhiya”, when we completed the construction of our new home.

Year 1889, when our griha pravesh ( house inauguration) function was being performed, along with my parents, as per customs, a perfect white calf , christened as Gauri, accompanied her mother Budhiya and took the rounds of our newly built home

Though Budhiya had little horns, she always threatened us in childhood, if we try to touch her little calves. Those times, we feared her.

Years passed off.

Budhiya became old. Her height seemed shortened, tooth eroded and used to take finer grains and straws only. One day she stopped taking food and water. And none of male member was at home. Ma at Nani’s place. Papa at working place and me in hostel. Sisters called up nearby uncle and veterinary hospital’s uncle. Every thing seemed useless to revive her health.

She sat down finally. Her ropes of neck were freed up, as it’s customary to keep without ropes, when hopes of cow’s life blink faint.

Day 1 passed off. She was looking for someone.. Day 2 and day 3 passed off. Blame the poor communication facilities those days. On those days Ma was eager to come home back, but she could not as having ill health of nani.

Budhiya Passed off with eyes wide open! Though, didi did all Gangajal rituals. While returned home back, Ma saw an empty cowshed. She could not see her last days. She cried for days !

Budhiya was buried at our backyards, on his burial place, now grows green trees.

—————————–$———————————-

Today is 2nd March. Her last calf – Gauri was being kept in the grave forever.

As now the backyard is full of teak trees, we men, carried her body (corpse!) to our farm land. At a corner, rectangular wide and deep land was dug up.

“In which direction her head should be kept ?” – Shambhu asked me, before our cow Gauri was to be put in grave.

I did not know exactly hence asked Patoriwala for the confirmation. It was north.

We kept pouring soil to cover her grave. While pouring soil with shovel, one moment , my emotions were telling jut to look her face back again for last time, taking out all soil put on her, as if how she looked !

But I know the five elements, I kept pouring and pouring !

And we made a square platform over the grave.

She remained a lowest maintained animal, with no complaint practically, with occasional fines that we had to pay, when she used to do graze someone’s paddy / wheat ignorantly.

We bore everything, as our insignificant fines were of no means as those of her of infertility.

Her eyes used to have tears when we bring back from hospital / Gaushala with hopes of fertility. She used to love all the calves grown in front of her eyes. She was several times hit by other cows for her this behavior! Gauri didn’t give us a single drop of milk, but we never complaint ever as we could understand her pains always. She couldn’t speak. While washing / caressing her back belly down, she used to stay calmer!

Today she is not more, with a perfect sitting posture till the last moment, she never let feel anyone that she is no more….. !

Music for Life – 2 (Ghazals)

by

सुबह सुबह इक ख्व़ाब की, दस्तक पर दरवाजा खुला देखा,
सरहद के उस पार से कुछ मेहमान आये थे,
आँखों से मायुस थे सारे, चेहरे सारे सुने सुनाए,
पाँव धोये, हाथ धुलाए, आँगन में आसन लगवाये,
और तन्दुर पे मक्के के कुछ मोटे-मोटे रोटी पकाये,
पोटली में मेहमान मेरे, पिछले सालों के फसलों का गुड़ लाये थे ।

आँख खुली तो देखा घर में कोई नही था ।
हाथ लगाकर देखा तो तन्दुर अभी तक बुझा नहीं था,
और होठों पे मीठे गुड़ का जाय़का अब तक चिपक रहा था
ख्वाब था शायद ख्वाब ही होगा
सरहद पे सुना है कल रात चली थी गोली,
स़रहद पे कल रात सुना है – कुछ ख्वावों का खू़न हुआ है ।

The preface of the song इक पुराना मौसम लौटा – in Marasim.

Year 1999, the one day in Air Force Station as a frequent guest of my friend, Subhash, from Haryana. And on a afternoon, I was lying comfortable on the bed. Subhash told me to hear a new cassette he bought and put it in the cassette player. I had listened only few lines. And it was enough capable to vibrate the dormitory. And the heavy solemn voice of Jagjit Singh, and so the waves vibrated my soul, leading it to somewhere. The Album was Marasim by Jagjit Singh.

Haath chute bhi to rishtey nahi choda karte..was the one of Ghazal there, and yes, where is Subhash today, I don’t know. He may be with his children at some air force station. And his memories are still with me. The connecting string to him everytime is Marasim.

I took out the lyrics leaflet out of the cassette. I read the urdu composition of Gulzar. Though at home, Pankaj Udhas was only to bring ghazal’s emotional touch and worth to mention “Ghunghru tut gayi”. And I think its real vibration matching airs around us that, I got friends with common interests, where ever I go.

And the ghazal maestro Jagjit Singh had an existence in pictures and timeless ghazals. It was a bliss to see the maestro performing at the live function here in Bangalore. Though organiser could have arranged the live performance in an efficient accoustic hall, hence to bring out the minute details of her unique style of fluctuating the vocal cord, that is audiable in the CD sound system at home.

Later on I heard about the private life of the maestro, when they lost their son, Vivek agee 21 years, I was really shocked, which can never be compensated to him by all his acquired fame and satisfaction. Whenever I hear Jagjit & Chitra singing together, I wish, may not God make any absolutely perfect couple, if there lies such a great pain to suffer in the completness. The couple’s dedication towards music is great, even after pain they tried to share the pain of lakhs of his fans with few more albums.

With due respect to his private life, I do wonder the reason behind of his unique rendition of inner human feelings in the air. And this is one way one can understand and share the pains of others. These poetic rendition comes out, when there is some untold, unknown pains lies within.

Ghazals have quite different essence and style than song. The choosen words of poetry, the weaving style to bring out feelings is the first lyrics expertise. Then the rendition, who delivers with a voice, that must have deep feeling of abstract 6th sense apart from all forms. To me hearing the poetic recitation of Ghazals proves to be the best thing for the solitory moments.

These are the companion of those feelings that waves into the sea of thoughts. Thoughts of relations, those tied forever, those broken up, those which could not be tied and all those which still binds the world with invisible strings.

P.S.: More than 6 years passed off and Subhash was out of touch, and the day I had finished writing this post, Subhash found me on Orkut after a lot of search. Is it just a coincidence or something unexplained ever !

Geetanjali In Bengali Unicode

by

“Geetanjali” literally means Geet(Song) + Anjali(Offerings) = “Song Offerings” to the God.

I have started the conversion of Kaviguru’s Nobel prize winning serenade to God, Geetanjali, in Bengali unicode. To the great genius Rabindranath Tagore, my efforts will be just a piece of respect after expanding its reach in the era of Internet. The word ‘Geetanjali’ is in some places written as ‘Gitanjali’ and it is as per Bengali pronunciation,its Gitanjoli. And I guess the ‘Geetanjali’ word seems better.

The need of hour is, I could not locate his original poems in unicode format on the net, though partial translations are there. Though It will require a lot of expertise for doing the translation as per my current level of confidence, thus I shall put only the Roman transription alongwith.

আমার কথায় গান ভরে দাও

by

হে পরমা, আমার মা,
সুবোধ দাও, আমায় তুমি,
আলোকিত কর, আমার গান ।
কুলহারা এই দেসে,
অপুর্ন আমার বানী,
আজি কেন হার মেনেছি ।

বিবেকের ছায়াসংগী তুমি,
বীনাখানি বাজায় আমি,
ব্যাকুল কন্ঠ গান ভর ।
জেনে সবার মনের কথা আমি ,
কে আপন, কে পর ভুলে,
আজি সেই কথার সমীরে,
আমি মাধুরী ভোরে দিতে চাই ।

আমার কথায় গান ভরে দাও ।

Roman transcription:
He parama, Aamar ma,
subodh dao, aamay tumi,
aalokit karo, aamar gaan,
kulhara aie dese,
Apurna aamar bani,
Aaji haar menechi.

Vivekar chhayasangi tumi,
Vinakhani bajai aami,
Vyakul konthe gaan bhoro,
Jene sobar moner kotha aami,
Ke aapon, ke por bhule,
Aaji sei kothar somire,
Aami madhuri bhore dite chai.

Aamar kothai gaan bhore dao.

(P.S. Please do suggest for spelling mistake(s) in Bengali text here.)

Her Marriage – The Dance of Life

by

This narration again goes to my sister, as she is so special to me. May be there are some traits of the woman, set as benchmark of excellence, though unread and unexplainable; my instinct keeps me away from most of the Bangalore’s highly materialistic girls.

The evening was not hot at all. But seeing her dance practices, it seemed that it was like a mid summer evening. She was perspiring with sweat, after so many rounds of dozens of dance swirling around her feet.Her payals used to set the neighborhood into vibrations. Though she lamented some times that why didn’t I learn table to that level. If I could have accompanied her, with the beats, she could have better coordinated her foot falls.

“Dada, I completed all rounds without stops.” And she was very much optimistic about her 6th year’s courses in Kathak despite really limited resources in the small town. And why not, her Lasik operations gave her a new look to life again. The weekly classes, by her Guruji, who used to come from Raiganj, she attended attentively, as well as cleverly, a trait mandatory in artistic learning. At the end of her weekly classes, I had to go for escorting her, in late evenings. . No matter, when midnight touches, she used to note down the all theoretical parts of dance, in her diaries, because she had to return back the book to someone.

That time with a perfect composure of a classical dancer, after all sweating out, her wheatish complexion appeared brighter and more confident, which is skin deep.

After she completed Sangeet Prabhakar in classical dance, her only wish remained, is to continue the education under some competent guru, with a guru-shishya parampara at some good place. Other option, she had been chosen that, she will learn Shahnaz Hussain’s beauty courses, and start her own entrepreneurship.

She has been artistic. And if literally to say, inclination towards arts subjects. Math remained the major obstacle in her career. Though she tried her best, but in fact it needed spoon feeding sometimes. During her secondary school exams, she got some trivial tips to solve problem from her favourite teacher. And I enjoyed the role as, I knew well, where she misses ‘the connecting links’ between a problem and derived solution.

Dreaming is a stepping stone, realization of the same is bliss. We didn’t have resources or someone well connected to metros to find out the details of scope for her.

—————————-$—————————–

And her years passed off teaching the neighborhood girls Kathak & painting , and engaging herself in free bridal make up services only in well close relations.

But there was a time, when we had to see the scopes of hers to find her day of bridal appearance. Her marriage searches started off. Newspapers were scanned for matrimonial ads. Ma emphasized that as she gets dressed in her best in functions and Durga Puja. Might she can draw in someone’s attention !

Its told, in our side unless the father’s sandal’s sole erases out, getting a groom is not possible. But this time, having her ultimate faith on me, I have to share the roles as well as decision with Baba.

Nights of ours just spent exploring all the possible scopes to us. Never we slept before 11 pm. It appeared as if we are desperate to send her out somewhere unknown. Family members’ opinions and discussions went on.

I think in these times, Ma’s duties increased to keep pushing Baba for efforts of groom searching. And endless were the talks of Ma-Baba, sometimes taking shape of arguments. Though Baba averred me as always taking Ma’s side, I managed their opinions, and derived the common thread between their opinions !

I made a presentable bio-data of hers as the best girl in the world. And next tasks were getting some of her snaps. Really difficult task one ! There were some of hers snapped in the local studios. And we started to search her best appearing snap, where everything looks perfect. Even the plates of saree, fingers well arranged, long hairs displayed with decency – and we got some picture perfect snaps. But among around 10 selected snaps with varied angles, we could choose out only two – in those she looked more beautiful. The interesting thing was both of them were snapped on our roof, not in studios! These snaps were snapped by our photographer, Vilash uncle, who came some day on her call, and everything went unnoticed to us until snaps bills came to Baba. Rest all hundreds of bucks spent in studios could not bring her natural smile in artificially painted studio backgrounds.

And this side, whenever I used be in journey for possible approaches, I had to but a weight on my heart. From the day, she appeared into our house, she had been lucky for the family in many more ways. And the fact is, from the day she left us; we became almost dispersed family and unable to manage the same. And it wouldn’t be same ever again, unless such a pious soul again enters our home in any form.

With every possible negotiation talks, there were budding hopes, dreaming castles and sudden or slow melting of the same too.

One of them is worth interesting, when Ma wanted to buy the groom !

Without going into details, I would like to mention, her two line statement to the mediator over phone was, “Why 5 lakhs, I shall give 7 lakhs to Mr. X , for his handsome engineer son. And as I might have paid such a pretty sum, he has to just leave his son, and he will be only ours forever! ” – she smiled back on the customs again.

And our children union, we needed some smart gossips to just pass off the time.

In our children arena, we calculated the good grooms available on that day. Suppose there are 100 Hindu guys to be married, in our contact. As we have managed till now a teetotaler culture, so seeing the habits of current generation, 70 will be out in screening test only. In rest 30, 10 guys will be already committed as Bengali girls are smarter to catch up job holder guys early, 10 guys will be searching for paper ad type beauty queens. In rest 10 guys, 5 will seek for professionally settled girls in preference. So there are only 5 guys for us in 100s. In rest, 5 we have to choose out one who will give her full opportunity to fly high. But where is 5’s and who is the last one, who will accept her, as she is.

Outside home, in the practical battlefield front, while meeting parents and guys, I knew how to evaporate the ego (be it mine or others), how to bring out their suppressed humanity, to start a genuine relation. And used to return home with bundles details to be talked till late nights, about people and their opinions, ideas and future preferences.

From our relatives and friends at home, many proposals came positive, some of them looking so great that, we can’t even dream off. Some places, she needed to be prepared to make compromise a lot. But as Ma have decided early that, we wouldn’t ever tell no to any guest. Let everyone come, respect the guest with your best and leave the fate to the Almighty.

The mantra worked well. One day in Tata Indica, came 5 guests. The guy, his sisters and uncle and friend. And we were prepared for a customary bride exhibition function (which I disliked most ). But this time by courtesy of the guests, they turned that into a casual homely talks.

Like others, they too departed and before departure the guy did our formal pranaam with manner and shacked hands with us (and with my sister too) and waived hands high with a wide smile, while getting back into the car.

Omen was well read.

Next Sunday, his parents, or better to say that the parents of the smart, fair and tall guy, accepted well the choice of his son, whatever she was, whole heartedly.

They invited us for their verification of house, business etc.! I predicted about, down to earth father-in-law, if the dream like day was going to be true.

After a minor verification by my parents, they decided to move ahead. Though I was told several times, but I was not willing to verify, and I was very much confident on the confidence of the guy and had chosen him out in the first glance only, as I had meet several other prospective grooms too.

On 21st day of their visit, his Tilak (Aashirwadi ) was done, as they wished . Marriage day was fixed. There was a gap of 4 months between his tilak and marriage. And the girl’s aashirwadi was not done, as if still she was free to move.

Ma & PinkyThe hazy snap of Ma & Pinky right here is taken out from the video clip, before we were to depart for Aashirwadi. Her fingers are still coloured with red alta, she just applied around Ma’s feet. Hope her fingers are dry :).

—————————-$—————————–

It was again another Saturday evening after one month of Aashirwadi. The to-be groom’s parents were at our home for some homely talks regarding marriage arrangements.

In the same evening, I received a call of my good friend, who was at home in vacations. He is a well placed professional in a reputed MNC in UK.

Sister was well noticed and well appreciated by his mother, much before, but never expressed clearly that to us. And undeniable fact is, on her face, she carries simplicity and a natural smile that’s obviously appears on the faces of many the small town girls or those who come from small towns.

Though we too thought some times to make a proposal as best relations never expect those bits of ego, but we could not approach them, as they might fall in ( prime ) dowry group as the status of groom and Ma’s unwillingness to promote this system. Other thing, we were not sure, as how much they will be able to give wings to fly, to a girl, as per her wishes, born in a Bengali culture.

He holds a command affection with me, and told that along with his parents he was coming next day. I scented his voice and purpose. I told there are guests related to her marriage at our home. He heard the news of negotiations of my sister are going on. And at the same time, he confirmed whether aashirwadi of her’s is done or not.

And as planned they were at our house next morning. And I respected them a lot, since last 10 or more years he has been like my brother and of course his parents like my own uncle-aunty.

But seeing the guests already present there, as early bird, they were really calm and the situation left me in real life dilemma. Their eyes were clearly hopeful still. And when luck brings to many things together, we are unable to decide whom to hear; heart or mind.

And it was our turn to decide. Whom to choose, if possible?

One with such a good qualification, a pay-package enough to raise the eyebrows of most of today’s girl’s, good looking NRI and best aspect was known to me since more than 10 years with all nitty-gritty of the personality.

Other with a B.Com of Kolkata university, an entrepreneur as well as a small tea estate owner. He does not have a pay –package, but earns hard worked profit, may be not comparable with a heavy NRI pay-package. The only concerned thing was, his past record and current actual status still unknown. How he may turn out for her in future, was not known to us. And visiting UK so easily, will be dream for him at least.

Houseful of guests. More lucks at home !

With opportunity of so many guests at home, varieties of Bengali cuisines were being served. And desperately, we needed a private talk among we family members that time, for a decision, if possible again.

And kitchen is the ultimate place of ours for such moments. I had to decide to an extent and I already decided something in my head.

I called sister in a another room. And told her – “See this is a once in lifetime chance. Your future is depending here. May your luck is giving you the better, that you deserved. About that guy I am sure and as well as for my friend, I am much more sure. Both’s parents are here today, and both of them want you with all the respect.”

“Dada, what ever you are telling that’s correct. You are thinking better for me. But now I am committed to him, as you people have done his aashirwadi too.” – She tried to make me understand.

“His is done, but your aashirwadi is not done. You can decide again, it’s a chance of UK, and best of out of this life, we could never think off, and a family that will be caring for you ever. You can fulfill all your dreams there. ” – I kept trying to convince her.

“Everything is fine. But he was the first to chosen me this way. I have talked with him too after aashirwadi. How I can think off leaving him alone here, and go for UK.” – She was moving her eyes away from me.

I recalled about her dreams of growing high with my best possible logic.

And she was undeterred and tried to avoid hearing my suggestions further. She hurried off to kitchen to help Ma.

Alone I was left in room. I was not pained at all. I was a proudest brother on the Earth of having such a sister of mine.

This coincidence of coming another guests with a prospective NRI guy, spread into guy’s family afterwards. And there was created a beautiful impression for a girl, ready to embrace her.

Before this day, at her to-be in-law’s house, I have seen her photo, that we sent for proposal, had been framed beautifully and kept on a single table between two newly bought flower vases in the drawing room. I never imagined this !

And she got married with best possible arrangements and best possible reception at their end. Though for us, we do prefer a very simple traditional Bengali marriage, but for her, I kept all our principles knowingly away for her dream day.

And she still receives the best care from her life partner, for the sacrifice she did or commitment she showed.

Her in-laws village is 35 km inside the national highway, but a well developed one with all facilities. However I can console my self, its worth to say, the place is never a chance to grow her talents, as she dreamt off. But the good thing is that , every one is flexible to let the couple reside in Darjeeling’s down town, where the guy have runs own business.

Willingness never dies. Creativity can’t be hidden. After few months of marriage, there was a day when in her neighborhood of in-laws house, a young girl wanted to learn classical dance from her. And happily from home, she carried her payals with her. And she started her one- student -class for just sake of little fee and engaging the time. And the neighborhood must have again started vibrating in payals’s sounds in the in-laws house. The vibrations , I could hear it here too.

“Dada, I have danced a lot yesterday, though my legs pained a bit.” – next day she was telling me over phone.

Past to Present (4) – Those Toys

by

We used to be a team of 4 kids, in care of Amiya Mama and Masi, when Ma-Baba brought wooden toys from Kamrup Kamakhaya(Assam) and Shillong (Meghalaya). Actually they returned back much before the planned schedule, as on night, Ma saw some not so good dream about one of her kid. Phones were not available that time as its today . But she was so pleased to find everyone fine at home.

But we children have been interested in our concerns first. So we were inpatient to see what they brought for us. Mentionable is the tall wooden toy, which was a big wooden Baba, which can be opened at waist. Opening that came out his wife. Open the Ma, then came out their son. Open the son up, then came out another younger daughter. Our joys were no bounds. After taking those out we played a lot and afterwards playing kept them carefully. We used to pack them into the parental unit – the big Papa. I specially liked the youngest little one toy, cute type! But as a whole, it was a wonder toy. We were always encouraged for local made toys of handicrafts, made up of mud, and woods.

In that age group, only this toy, along with other wooden toys, was the matter of importance to us. The rest things of her bagful of bamboo / wooden items were of no use for us that time ! These included bamboo lampshade, basket, filter and round wooden containers to keep the household items. Except most toys (blame solely we four for loosing them) and lampshade all are still decorated on our racks today.

Even afterwards, she has been always interested in collecting the local handicrafts from the places, be it be Mathura , Ooty or Gangasagar. And there are short stories associated with all her purchases  May this tendency I carried unknowingly. And I have some unknown deep interest in the local artisans of the places. Its worth to say I am not much an Archies / Hall mark gift shop crazy (unless needed desperately) as my brain is already is hand crafted forever.

Recently on my Coorg tour, I could not get five minutes to buy a single item from the array of the Tibetan handicraft shops from Golden temple Tibetan artisans. It surprises me, that many a times that regarding these things, my tastes do not suit many of my friends. I was choosing glazing carpet type wooden table mats to buy. And I couldn’t buy. I simple balanced my self with fully fake smile for my hurried friends who were not interested even a bit about those shops.

And I am determined, one day with my dear companion; I shall go there again to purchase ‘those’ table mats.

Exploring Kerala (3) – Handicrafts

by

Kerala is rich in Handicrafts too. My Kerala tour was really good in all terms. I was able to spend considerable time in Uravu shop for handicrafts. I bought many coconut and wood crafts to my satisfaction. At the counter, when the purchased items were arranged at one place, a small cardboard box was needed to pack them up and needed a specialWooden Handicrafts of Kerala care in return journey.

I knew my purchases, hence spending support their efforts. And to be frank, when the bill was presented to me, I requested them for making it to some round figure. Its worth to say that they reduced it a considerable themselves more than what I expected. Hope this money (including more), I shall spent for those crafts again for those wooden pair of elephants some day!

Almost every place of India has some indigenous natural products. For our local area, we have Jute of best quality for handicrafts. And Kerala is rich in coconut, wood, forest (dry) flowers and stones. Since generations lasts, they have learnt the method of processing, refining and giving them a shape of elegance.

From a whole coconut with fibers they can make a cute elephant, flower vases and so many other items. There can be whole description about the usefulness of coconut fibers for making handicrafts. The Bamboo trunk, they use for making a whole variety of table top items as well as wall hangings. But after seeing the bamboo craft, I felt NE Indian craftsmen are better in indigenous Bamboo craft work. There were whole range of spices and paintings too for sales.

When the fortunate enough people, work in sync with underprivileged ones, filling up any unnecessary gaps, with helping hands and clean soul, social economics prospers.

I enquired about the shop and they gave their visiting cards and information booklet. All these social initiative were taken by Uravu. Now with my inquisitive tendency, we discussed about their efforts. I shall like to personally see their tribal crafts processing sometime in future.

ISKCON Bangalore – 4 New Year Celebrations

by

Got something excellent to wind-up the year. As FOLK ( Friends Of Lord Krishna) member got the invitation along with two more for Tasty “taste of india” festival and Vaikuntha Ekadashi from ISKCON. Time to dance,sing , skit,  eat and merry.

I must dedicate this year which really proved to be wonderful as I expected, to Him again and enjoy the evening celebrations to welcome the new year in midnight. Hurrah! My Krishna !

iskcon1.jpgiskcon2.jpg