Fare thee well
My own true love.
Fare well for a while.
I'm going 'way,
But I'll be back.
O I'll go 10,000 miles,
10,000 miles....
My own true love,
10,000 miles or more.
The rocks may melt,
And the seas may burn,
If I should not return.
O don't you see,
That lonesome dove?
Sitting on an ivy tree.
She's looking for...
Her own true love,
As I shall weep for mine.
O come he back,
My own true love,
And stay a while with me.
If I had a friend
All on this world,
He'll be a friend to me.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Monday, November 12, 2007
God rules....literally!
God is one crazy old SOB! I do not mean that in a demeaning way, but in an affectionate way. Sort of like a son who looks up to his dad in army and admiringly thinks, “Man! That’s one hard nut!” He has a wicked sense of humor (God, not the boy or his nutty dad), and a wild ass way of messing with our lives and proving his existence.
I’ve realized this countless number of times in my life, and I’m sure the tradition will continue.
Just take last Friday as an example. At work, my project-manager fell sick, with the delivery deadline being less than a week. And no one else in the office knew the stuff he was working on. Since I was the next available man, it fell upon me to take his place and learn and deliver the stuff. Before one can even say “what the fu..”, I was put to chase a deadline….yet again. I had my own delivery to handle as well, of course, as well as supervising delivery of another guy and training 4 other. Things were promising to be quite grim. Coming back to home, I learned my father had a bad day and was in the depths of a self-destructing depression. He said his neurological problems are returning, his knees are weakening, and his will to live is dead. The situation at a death bed was probably more cheerful that that of our house. The political scenario at Kolkata was not exactly helping either, with multiple parties calling 48 hour strikes on Monday and Tuesday, when I just HAD to go to office. All the bad news….in a couple of hours.
So how did I handle that? Not too gracefully I’m afraid. I sweared a lot for one thing. I stayed at office from Saturday morning to Sunday evening. Tried frantically to slog my way through a piece of foreign code and completing the gaps (and there were gaps where you can put Mount Everest in). I tried talking to my father and tried to convince him to see a psychiatrist. I had about 5 social invitations over the weekend, which I couldn’t miss. So I had to rush from office to these places and rush back to office as soon as I could leave.
Things started to look up from Monday evening. It was a day of strike, so I was at home. I brought laptop and other equipments I would need from office, to continue my work from home and that was exactly what I did the whole day. At around evening, the code finally ran correctly for the first time. It was still not complete, and was moving like a new born baby giraffe, but I had something at least! And for the first time I thought maybe I can make the Tuesday deadline for the first draft. Soon after I heard that most of the political parties have withdrawn the strike and going to office should not be a problem the next day. Father said he found a psychiatrist, and he’ll be coming in a day or two. All the better news….in a couple of hours.
I’m not totally out of the soup yet though, only partly. The code is working, but it’s still very sketchy. The strike is withdrawn, but some problems are still expected. The psychiatrist has been found, but he has not started yet. So, don’t throw away you ticket counterparts just yet!
And then there’s that crazy one! The omnipotent, supreme leader of all…..no, not George Bush……the real leader…..God! I picture himself at this moment, sitting in his couch, smoking heavenly cigars, smiling at the ups and down of our lives at the slightest whim of His. The only comparison to the ease with which he can take away the smile from our faces, is with the ease with which He can put it back on! God rocks man….. He’s the coolest!
I’ve realized this countless number of times in my life, and I’m sure the tradition will continue.
Just take last Friday as an example. At work, my project-manager fell sick, with the delivery deadline being less than a week. And no one else in the office knew the stuff he was working on. Since I was the next available man, it fell upon me to take his place and learn and deliver the stuff. Before one can even say “what the fu..”, I was put to chase a deadline….yet again. I had my own delivery to handle as well, of course, as well as supervising delivery of another guy and training 4 other. Things were promising to be quite grim. Coming back to home, I learned my father had a bad day and was in the depths of a self-destructing depression. He said his neurological problems are returning, his knees are weakening, and his will to live is dead. The situation at a death bed was probably more cheerful that that of our house. The political scenario at Kolkata was not exactly helping either, with multiple parties calling 48 hour strikes on Monday and Tuesday, when I just HAD to go to office. All the bad news….in a couple of hours.
So how did I handle that? Not too gracefully I’m afraid. I sweared a lot for one thing. I stayed at office from Saturday morning to Sunday evening. Tried frantically to slog my way through a piece of foreign code and completing the gaps (and there were gaps where you can put Mount Everest in). I tried talking to my father and tried to convince him to see a psychiatrist. I had about 5 social invitations over the weekend, which I couldn’t miss. So I had to rush from office to these places and rush back to office as soon as I could leave.
Things started to look up from Monday evening. It was a day of strike, so I was at home. I brought laptop and other equipments I would need from office, to continue my work from home and that was exactly what I did the whole day. At around evening, the code finally ran correctly for the first time. It was still not complete, and was moving like a new born baby giraffe, but I had something at least! And for the first time I thought maybe I can make the Tuesday deadline for the first draft. Soon after I heard that most of the political parties have withdrawn the strike and going to office should not be a problem the next day. Father said he found a psychiatrist, and he’ll be coming in a day or two. All the better news….in a couple of hours.
I’m not totally out of the soup yet though, only partly. The code is working, but it’s still very sketchy. The strike is withdrawn, but some problems are still expected. The psychiatrist has been found, but he has not started yet. So, don’t throw away you ticket counterparts just yet!
And then there’s that crazy one! The omnipotent, supreme leader of all…..no, not George Bush……the real leader…..God! I picture himself at this moment, sitting in his couch, smoking heavenly cigars, smiling at the ups and down of our lives at the slightest whim of His. The only comparison to the ease with which he can take away the smile from our faces, is with the ease with which He can put it back on! God rocks man….. He’s the coolest!
Friday, July 07, 2006
Growing up
When does one grow up? I know growing up is a continuous process, but there must be a time, a moment in one's life when one crosses the invisible line between childhood and adulthood. I do not know the general answer, just like most of the important questions of my life. But I think I know at which point, I, personally crossed that line of no return.
It was on a sleepless night three years ago.
I did not realize it then, but the more I remember of that time, the surer I become. I didn't grow a beard all of a sudden that night, neither did I wisen up considerably. I just stepped out of childhood, unceremoniously, and unknowingly.
But I do not complain of losing the carefree life. I had my fair share of fun. My childhood was prolonged....lasting almost 20 years, starting with the beginning, the birth.
I was in my college third year when my father retired from work. He was never a cautious money-savor. He spent most of his earnings for the comfort and happiness of his near and dear ones, namely us. But he had still enough left in the banks for a confortable retirement. I still had one year to go in college before I could start earning. The pressure started building on me from that moment. Though it did not affect me that much at that time. To me, the world was still a happy place, with people around me to take care of me.
Then my father was diagnosed with a problem in his spinal chord, which required immediate surgery. We consulted doctors and made the preperations. The cost was estimated at 1.5 lakhs of rupees. Pretty hard, but not undoable. My brother was there to help too. So, there were no big problems in sight. The operation itself was complex, and lasted 7 hours. A titanium cage was inserted into my father's spinal cord to strenghten it. The doctor told us it would take about three months for him to walk normally again.
The first few days after the operation were tough. He could not move a finger and needed help all the time. The nurses of the nursing home were helpful, and took care of everything. But they required that someone of the family should stay with my father for the nights, as long as he was in the nursing home. My uncles and relatives took part in it, a friend of my father stayed back one night. I, too, spent a few nights. But since I had my college going on, I could not stay back every night. However I usually did every alternate night. It was in one of those nights that I grew up.
The day was not different from other days. I went to college and from there went to the nursing home. I was prepared to spend the night, I was even provided a bed by the authorities. However, I never slept in it, and usually spent the nights sitting on the bedside chair. The visiting hour over, the people departed. I was eventually left alone with my father on the bed. Night descended, the lights went off. I was on the chair as usual, and dozzed off for a bit. But a chair is an uncomfortable place to sleep and I soon woke up, with a slight pain in my neck. I stood and stretched. My father was sleeping, not exactly like a baby, but sleeping nevertheless. For the past few nights, he got almost no sleep, due to coughing and the general discomfort. I was glad to see he finally managed to get some. I walked towards the window that occupied almost one full side of the room and looked out. The nursing home was placed right beside the Eastern Metropolitan bypass and we were on the 5th floor. From the airconditioned room I looked out through the window. It was dark outside, more profoundly felt since none of the sounds from outside penetrated into the room. It was silent except for the troubled breathing of my father, the soft noise from the monitoring instruments and the slight whirr of the air conditioning. The city was not asleep though. An endless streams of car headlights were flowing in the distant bypass that lay 5 stories below us. Cars, trucks and overnight buses moving along at great speed, and absolutely silently. Though the world seemed to have stopped for me, it has not for the rest. Outside life was in full swing.
I kept looking at the silent stream of lights, not partucularly thinking of anything and then looked at my father. And I was suddenly aware of the world. I suddenly felt vulnerable. It was as if I, for the first time in my life, truly felt the world around me. All my life, I was under a shield, a shield formed by my parents, my relatives, my friends. And suddenly, at that moment, the shield dissappeared, there was no one. I felt alone and strange, felt helpless and foreign. There was my father, lying in the bed beside me, and for the first time in my life, it is ME who is taking care of him. It seemed so out-of-order, so frightening! And in retrospect, I now think that it was at that precise moment that I finally grew up. My childhood was gone, along with the shield. I faced the world alone, for the first time. I recoiled in fear, but only for a few moments. Like billions of human before me and billions to come after me, I got over it. I faced it, like everyone does...sooner or later.
Responsibility is the key word I believe. It is what separates men from boys. Childhood and responsibility are mutually exclusive. With the appearance of the later, the former disappears forever. But there's no point crying over it, brooding and sulking. Thats how it works, thats the rule.
And there ends my boring story of self discovery and you may rest now. I'm sure your eyes are tired from reading all this nonsense, so go ahead and take a break. Look at some some pictures ;), while you're at it!
Just for the really curious and serious type, here's some info. The doctors were wrong. The cost of the operation and post operative care went up to 6.5 lakhs in the first year after the operation, completely depleting my fathers saved funds. My desperation for getting a job reached a point where I could not wait for my final exams to end. Its been three years now. My father still can't walk without support (the doctors were wrong again!), the medicines continue, the physiotherapy continues (I do not keep track of the spending any more. Money is no more a major concern for me, God has provided me with a job which provided me with that luxury). He gets severe depressions from time and again (I think I would too if I was unable to walk without support for three years), yet we survived. We go on.
It was on a sleepless night three years ago.
I did not realize it then, but the more I remember of that time, the surer I become. I didn't grow a beard all of a sudden that night, neither did I wisen up considerably. I just stepped out of childhood, unceremoniously, and unknowingly.
But I do not complain of losing the carefree life. I had my fair share of fun. My childhood was prolonged....lasting almost 20 years, starting with the beginning, the birth.
I was in my college third year when my father retired from work. He was never a cautious money-savor. He spent most of his earnings for the comfort and happiness of his near and dear ones, namely us. But he had still enough left in the banks for a confortable retirement. I still had one year to go in college before I could start earning. The pressure started building on me from that moment. Though it did not affect me that much at that time. To me, the world was still a happy place, with people around me to take care of me.
Then my father was diagnosed with a problem in his spinal chord, which required immediate surgery. We consulted doctors and made the preperations. The cost was estimated at 1.5 lakhs of rupees. Pretty hard, but not undoable. My brother was there to help too. So, there were no big problems in sight. The operation itself was complex, and lasted 7 hours. A titanium cage was inserted into my father's spinal cord to strenghten it. The doctor told us it would take about three months for him to walk normally again.
The first few days after the operation were tough. He could not move a finger and needed help all the time. The nurses of the nursing home were helpful, and took care of everything. But they required that someone of the family should stay with my father for the nights, as long as he was in the nursing home. My uncles and relatives took part in it, a friend of my father stayed back one night. I, too, spent a few nights. But since I had my college going on, I could not stay back every night. However I usually did every alternate night. It was in one of those nights that I grew up.
The day was not different from other days. I went to college and from there went to the nursing home. I was prepared to spend the night, I was even provided a bed by the authorities. However, I never slept in it, and usually spent the nights sitting on the bedside chair. The visiting hour over, the people departed. I was eventually left alone with my father on the bed. Night descended, the lights went off. I was on the chair as usual, and dozzed off for a bit. But a chair is an uncomfortable place to sleep and I soon woke up, with a slight pain in my neck. I stood and stretched. My father was sleeping, not exactly like a baby, but sleeping nevertheless. For the past few nights, he got almost no sleep, due to coughing and the general discomfort. I was glad to see he finally managed to get some. I walked towards the window that occupied almost one full side of the room and looked out. The nursing home was placed right beside the Eastern Metropolitan bypass and we were on the 5th floor. From the airconditioned room I looked out through the window. It was dark outside, more profoundly felt since none of the sounds from outside penetrated into the room. It was silent except for the troubled breathing of my father, the soft noise from the monitoring instruments and the slight whirr of the air conditioning. The city was not asleep though. An endless streams of car headlights were flowing in the distant bypass that lay 5 stories below us. Cars, trucks and overnight buses moving along at great speed, and absolutely silently. Though the world seemed to have stopped for me, it has not for the rest. Outside life was in full swing.
I kept looking at the silent stream of lights, not partucularly thinking of anything and then looked at my father. And I was suddenly aware of the world. I suddenly felt vulnerable. It was as if I, for the first time in my life, truly felt the world around me. All my life, I was under a shield, a shield formed by my parents, my relatives, my friends. And suddenly, at that moment, the shield dissappeared, there was no one. I felt alone and strange, felt helpless and foreign. There was my father, lying in the bed beside me, and for the first time in my life, it is ME who is taking care of him. It seemed so out-of-order, so frightening! And in retrospect, I now think that it was at that precise moment that I finally grew up. My childhood was gone, along with the shield. I faced the world alone, for the first time. I recoiled in fear, but only for a few moments. Like billions of human before me and billions to come after me, I got over it. I faced it, like everyone does...sooner or later.
Responsibility is the key word I believe. It is what separates men from boys. Childhood and responsibility are mutually exclusive. With the appearance of the later, the former disappears forever. But there's no point crying over it, brooding and sulking. Thats how it works, thats the rule.
And there ends my boring story of self discovery and you may rest now. I'm sure your eyes are tired from reading all this nonsense, so go ahead and take a break. Look at some some pictures ;), while you're at it!
Just for the really curious and serious type, here's some info. The doctors were wrong. The cost of the operation and post operative care went up to 6.5 lakhs in the first year after the operation, completely depleting my fathers saved funds. My desperation for getting a job reached a point where I could not wait for my final exams to end. Its been three years now. My father still can't walk without support (the doctors were wrong again!), the medicines continue, the physiotherapy continues (I do not keep track of the spending any more. Money is no more a major concern for me, God has provided me with a job which provided me with that luxury). He gets severe depressions from time and again (I think I would too if I was unable to walk without support for three years), yet we survived. We go on.
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Thunder 2.0
The busy week came to an end. Not the best week I've faced, but not the worst either. I guess I can't really complain, mostly because there's no one to complain to. The day ended with promise of worse days in near future....had seven more days till deadline, I was nowhere near completion of my project. I think they call it 'deadline' on purpose, cross the line, and you wish you were dead.
Saturday came finally. People everywhere felt relief from work, a short one, but a welcomed one nevertheless. For two short days they get to forget the pressure, the work, and concentrate on relaxing.
Not me.
As I opened my eyes on the Saturday morning, I immediately remembered that I have to go to office today too.
The only good news was that the day looked cloudy and the scorching sun was missing. At least I would not have to sweat like a pig when I go to office. But at that point I didn't realize that it was just the beginning of the storm.....literally!
Things were moving pretty smoothly from morning...Got the bus without waiting too much, got a seat without waiting too much. The weather was cloudy, the wind was strong, smell of rain drifting in from the open window. It started just after crossing Ruby. The sky was dark to begin with, now it became black. The wind became erratic. Every now and then there were flashes of lightning across the sky. The rain started slowly...big, fat rain. It grew in an exponential curve. Within minutes every window of the bus were closed shut, the rain rattled against them.
Reminded me of a similar day when I was trapped behind a glass cage and could only watch.
When the bus reached my stop, it was raining cats and dogs, water clogged here and there, people standing crowded under shades, umbrella over a lucky few, nothing but the disintegrating sky over the unlucky rest.
I hurriedly took out my umbrella and descended into the water curtain. I was going to open the umbrella when suddenly a strange feeling of rebellion woke somewhere deep inside. I remained at the spot, transfixed, the unopened umbrella in my hand. The initial panic of the thought of getting drenched subsided. A calmness took over. Its hard to explain. Its as if my soul has two distinct parts. One is a lower one, it panics on face of trouble, it cringes in front of fear, it becomes cautious facing unknown. It tries to flee, it tries to hide, it tries to avoid whenever it detects trouble. It is the part of the soul that drives the body, its the part of soul that almost always plays a major part in my life. However, there is another part...a higher one, one which is calmer, stronger, courageous, more powerful. It just sits still and watches over the lower soul. It only steps up when it feels like, when it thinks that the lower part is not going to handle the situation. It wakes up inside without alarm, without notifying, and it just takes complete control, in an instant. The lower soul just disappers in front of it. I don't know what exactly wakes it up, maybe I'll never know. But I've felt its sudden presence before many times, in hard times, I'm sure I'll feel it again in future. This moment was one such awakening.
I no longer cared about the rain, I didn't care whether my mobile will short circuit, I didn't care whether I'll catch cold, I didn't care whether my books will get wet. I just didn't care anymore. I was not me anymore.
I walked through the rain, drenched from head to toe, still holding the unopened umbrella in my hand. I know that getting drenched in rain is not exactly a very big deal, but somehow that small act of rebellion against nature made me feel liberated. Free.
I was no longer a manequin in the hand of fources I can't control, I was suddenly a living thing with its own mind. I can do whatever I choose. I can brake rules, I can disapprove conventions, I can look up into the oncoming thunder and say "F*ck you!".
Finally.
The rain was still falling very heavily, but it was no longer dancing all around me in victory, it was just falling apart, defeated. With all its might, with all its lightnings, with all its thunder, will all its shouts, it couldn't make me run.
Revenge was mine.
Saturday came finally. People everywhere felt relief from work, a short one, but a welcomed one nevertheless. For two short days they get to forget the pressure, the work, and concentrate on relaxing.
Not me.
As I opened my eyes on the Saturday morning, I immediately remembered that I have to go to office today too.
The only good news was that the day looked cloudy and the scorching sun was missing. At least I would not have to sweat like a pig when I go to office. But at that point I didn't realize that it was just the beginning of the storm.....literally!
Things were moving pretty smoothly from morning...Got the bus without waiting too much, got a seat without waiting too much. The weather was cloudy, the wind was strong, smell of rain drifting in from the open window. It started just after crossing Ruby. The sky was dark to begin with, now it became black. The wind became erratic. Every now and then there were flashes of lightning across the sky. The rain started slowly...big, fat rain. It grew in an exponential curve. Within minutes every window of the bus were closed shut, the rain rattled against them.
Reminded me of a similar day when I was trapped behind a glass cage and could only watch.
When the bus reached my stop, it was raining cats and dogs, water clogged here and there, people standing crowded under shades, umbrella over a lucky few, nothing but the disintegrating sky over the unlucky rest.
I hurriedly took out my umbrella and descended into the water curtain. I was going to open the umbrella when suddenly a strange feeling of rebellion woke somewhere deep inside. I remained at the spot, transfixed, the unopened umbrella in my hand. The initial panic of the thought of getting drenched subsided. A calmness took over. Its hard to explain. Its as if my soul has two distinct parts. One is a lower one, it panics on face of trouble, it cringes in front of fear, it becomes cautious facing unknown. It tries to flee, it tries to hide, it tries to avoid whenever it detects trouble. It is the part of the soul that drives the body, its the part of soul that almost always plays a major part in my life. However, there is another part...a higher one, one which is calmer, stronger, courageous, more powerful. It just sits still and watches over the lower soul. It only steps up when it feels like, when it thinks that the lower part is not going to handle the situation. It wakes up inside without alarm, without notifying, and it just takes complete control, in an instant. The lower soul just disappers in front of it. I don't know what exactly wakes it up, maybe I'll never know. But I've felt its sudden presence before many times, in hard times, I'm sure I'll feel it again in future. This moment was one such awakening.
I no longer cared about the rain, I didn't care whether my mobile will short circuit, I didn't care whether I'll catch cold, I didn't care whether my books will get wet. I just didn't care anymore. I was not me anymore.
I walked through the rain, drenched from head to toe, still holding the unopened umbrella in my hand. I know that getting drenched in rain is not exactly a very big deal, but somehow that small act of rebellion against nature made me feel liberated. Free.
I was no longer a manequin in the hand of fources I can't control, I was suddenly a living thing with its own mind. I can do whatever I choose. I can brake rules, I can disapprove conventions, I can look up into the oncoming thunder and say "F*ck you!".
Finally.
The rain was still falling very heavily, but it was no longer dancing all around me in victory, it was just falling apart, defeated. With all its might, with all its lightnings, with all its thunder, will all its shouts, it couldn't make me run.
Revenge was mine.
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
Thunder
A tuesday afternoon. Sitting in front of my office machine, with Deep Purple ("Fire in the Basement") pounding in my ears, I look out the window. Outside the world has dressed itself up for war. High winds ruffling the leaves, making the tall trees bend, begging for mercy. The sky has painted itself in dark grey war paint. Swishing its lightning sword from every direction, peircing the sky every now and then. The world has no sympathy today....its out to kill. Those unfortunate enough to stand in the path of the storm today will be blown over.
Safe inside the glass building of security, I looked at the wild world outside. The streets are deserted, not even the dogs are courageus enough to stray out. People hiding everywhere...that's what we do...we hide whenever there's trouble.
And then the sky broke down.
Rains came down like it was determined to end all creation today. It came down hard, lashing at everything, clawing at the smooth exterior of the tall skyscrapers, proud and stupid enough to stand against its might. The world vanished, engulfed in the opaque curtain of the rain. The sky swished its sword more and more, blinding light and thundering sound. A glass window breaks somewhere....first blood.
The lights inside the room were lit. People drank more coffee than usual. I stood at the window, transfixed. The rain kept pounding 5 inches in front of my face, on the other side of the glass. It was taunting me...pushing me..."Come out you wimp and face me if you have the guts", it shouted. I kept looking, couldn't move, couldn't even blink. I was mesmerized....and I began to wish I was out there...with the rain, facing the storm. I wanted to look up at the murderous sky and shout back "F**k you!"
But I couldn't....of course I couldn't. My mobile would get wet. My moneybag will get soaked. I'll be drenched, how can I get back in office in that state? I'll catch cold, I can't afford to take sick leave now, my project deadline is close.
I turned away from the window, defeated. The rain outside laughed hysterically. It kept shouting "LOSER! LOSER!" I shut my eyes in a desperate attempt to shut out the sound. But it kept going...pounding my skull harder and harder. I took it all in, like I do always, too cowardly to retaliate, too afraid to stand up.
I come back to my chair, turned towards my machine once more....I've coding to do. Codes that will run into thousands bugs, codes I'll debug sitting up all night, codes my company is going to sell to the client, codes the client will incorporate in its router so that it runs better and smoother, so that some teenager kid somewhere in his dark room can see porn more easily.
I start typing, not seeing what I'm writing clearly. "F**k you!", I said.....to myself.
Outside the rain danced.
Safe inside the glass building of security, I looked at the wild world outside. The streets are deserted, not even the dogs are courageus enough to stray out. People hiding everywhere...that's what we do...we hide whenever there's trouble.
And then the sky broke down.
Rains came down like it was determined to end all creation today. It came down hard, lashing at everything, clawing at the smooth exterior of the tall skyscrapers, proud and stupid enough to stand against its might. The world vanished, engulfed in the opaque curtain of the rain. The sky swished its sword more and more, blinding light and thundering sound. A glass window breaks somewhere....first blood.
The lights inside the room were lit. People drank more coffee than usual. I stood at the window, transfixed. The rain kept pounding 5 inches in front of my face, on the other side of the glass. It was taunting me...pushing me..."Come out you wimp and face me if you have the guts", it shouted. I kept looking, couldn't move, couldn't even blink. I was mesmerized....and I began to wish I was out there...with the rain, facing the storm. I wanted to look up at the murderous sky and shout back "F**k you!"
But I couldn't....of course I couldn't. My mobile would get wet. My moneybag will get soaked. I'll be drenched, how can I get back in office in that state? I'll catch cold, I can't afford to take sick leave now, my project deadline is close.
I turned away from the window, defeated. The rain outside laughed hysterically. It kept shouting "LOSER! LOSER!" I shut my eyes in a desperate attempt to shut out the sound. But it kept going...pounding my skull harder and harder. I took it all in, like I do always, too cowardly to retaliate, too afraid to stand up.
I come back to my chair, turned towards my machine once more....I've coding to do. Codes that will run into thousands bugs, codes I'll debug sitting up all night, codes my company is going to sell to the client, codes the client will incorporate in its router so that it runs better and smoother, so that some teenager kid somewhere in his dark room can see porn more easily.
I start typing, not seeing what I'm writing clearly. "F**k you!", I said.....to myself.
Outside the rain danced.
Monday, April 10, 2006
Bibhutibhushan
The works of Bibhutibhushan Bandopadhyay affected me more than any other authors. Something about his writings touched my heart and molded it. I would grow up to be a different person if I was never introduced to his "Chander Pahar". It was the starting point into the mesmerizing world of Bibhutibhushan for me. Till then his works has taken a hold on me. Given below are only few of his passages from different books....they never seem to lose their charms.
Chander Pahar
=============
"Bidaye Alvarez bondhu!....Shwadesh-e phire jaoar ei anonder muhurte tomar kothhai aaj mone hochche. Tumi sei doler manush, sara aakash jader ghorer chhad, sara prithibi jader paye cholar poth -- aashirbaad koro tomar moharonyer nirjon shomadhi theke, jano tomar moto hotey pari jibone, omoni shukh-dukkhe nispriho, omoni nirbhik.
Bidaye bondhu Attilio Gatti. Onek jonmer bondhu chhile tumi.
Tomra shobai miley shikhiyechho Chin deshe procholito sei prachin chhoratir shotyota-- Chhader aalsher dibbi chourosh ekkhani tali hoye onor obosthhaye shukhe-shochchonde thhakar cheye sfotik pathor hoye bhenge jaoao bhalo, bhenge jaoao bhalo, bhenge jaoao bhalo."
Pother Panchali
===============
"Oi jekhane aakasher tole aasharu-durgapur-er bandha shoroker gachher shari kromosho dur hoite dure giya poritechhe, or-i odike jekhane tahader gaa-er poth bakiya aashiya Shonadanga mather modhye uthiyachhe, shekhane pother thik sei mor-tite, graamer praanter buro jamtola-taye tahar didi jano mlanmukhe daraiya tahader railgarir dikey chahiya aache!....
Tahake keu loiya aashe nai, shobai feliya aashiyachhe, didi mara geleo dujoner khela korar potheghate, bashbone, aamtolaye se didike jano etodin kachhe kachhe paiyachhe, didir odrishyo sneho-sporsho chhilo Nischindipur-er bhanga kothabarir proti griho-kone -- aaj kintu shotyo-shotyoi didir shohit tahar chirokaler chharachhari hoiya galo !....
Tahar jano mone hoy didike aar keho bhalobashito na, maa noy, keu noy! Keho tahake chhariya aashite dukhito noy.
Hothath Apur mon ek bichitro onubhutite bhoriya galo. Taha dukkho noy, shok noy, biroho noy, taha ki se jane na. Koto ki mone aashilo olpo ek muhurter modhye ... Atoori daini ... nodir ghat ... tahader kothabarita, ... chalte-tolar poth ... Ranudi ... Koto boikal, koto dupur ... kotodiner koto haashikhela ... Potu ... didir mukh ... didir koto na-meta shaadh ....
Didi akhono ekdrishte chahiya aache ---
Porokkhonei tahar moner modhyer obak bhasha chokher jol-e atyoprokash koriya jano ei kothai baar baar bolite chahilo -- aami chaini didi, aami toke bhulini, ichche kore feleo aashini -- ora aamaye niye jachche.
Shotyoi se bhule nai.
Uttorjibone nilkuntola sagormekhola dhoronir shonge tahar khub ghonishtho porichoy ghotiyachhilo. Kintu jokhoni gotir puloke tahar sara deho shihoriya uthite thakito, shomudrogaami jahajer deck hoite proti muhurte nil aakasher nobo nobo mayaroop chokhe porito, hoyto drakkha-kunjo-beshtito kon nil porbotshanu shomudrer bilin chokrobaal shimaye dur hoite dure khin hoiya porito, durer osposhto aabchhaya-dekhite-paoa belabhumi ek protibhashali sursroshtar protibhar daaner moto mohamodhur kuhok-er srishti korito tahar bhabmoy mone -- tokhoni, ei shob shomoyei, tahar mone porito ek ghonoborshar raate, obisranto brishtir shobder modhye ek purano kothar ondhokaar ghore, rogshojyagrostho ek paragaayer gorib ghorer meyer kotha --
-- Apu, sere uthle aamaye ekdin railgari dekhabi?
Majherpara station-er distant signal-khana dekhite dekhite kotodure osposhto hoite hoite sheshe milaiya galo."
Pother Panchali
===============
"Oi aastaboler mathaye je aakashta, ori opare purbodike bohudure tahader Nischindipur.
Aaj kotodin se Nischindipur dakhe nai -- t-i-n botshor! Kotokaal!
Se jane, Nischindipur tahake dine-raate shob shomoy daake, Shankharipukur daak daye, bashbonta daak daye, Sonadanga math daak daye, Kodomtolar shayeber ghaat daak daye, Debi Bishalakkhi daak dan.
Poro vitar mishto lebu fuler gondhe shojnetolar chhayaye chhayaye aabar kobe gotibidhi? Aabar kobe tahader barir dharer shirish shondali bone pakhir daak?
Etodine tahader sekhane Ichhamotite borshar dhol namiyachhe. Ghater potha shimul tolaye jol uthiyachhe. Jhope jhope nata-kata, bonkolmir ful dhoriyachhe. Bon oporajitar nil fule boner matha chhaoa.
Tahader graamer ghat-tate kuch-jhoper pashe Rajukaka hoyto etokkhone tahar obhyeshmoto obelaye snan korite namiyachhe, chalte-pokar bake notun koshar boner dhare dhare Akrur majhi machh dhoribar doari patiyachhe, aaj shekhankar haat-baar, thakurjhi-pukurer sei botgachhtar pichhone digonte kono ranga aaguner fenar moto surjyo osto jaitechhe, aar tahar-i tolakar methopoth bahiya gramer chhele Potu, Nilu, Tinu, Bhola shob haat koriya firitechhe.
Etokkhone tader bone-ghera barir uthan-tate ghono chhaya poriya ashitechhe, kich kich koriya pakhi daakitechhe, sei mishto nishyobdo shanto boikaal -- sei holde pakhita aajo aashiya pachiler uporer konchir daal-tate sei rokom boshe, maayer haate pota lebucharatate hoyto etodin lebu folitechhe......
Aaro kichhukkhon pore tahader se vitaye shondhyer ondhokaar hoiya jaibe, kintu se shondhaye keho saanj jhalibe na, prodip dekhaibe na, roopkotha bolibe na. Jonohin vitar uthan-bhora kaalmegher jongole jhijhi poka daakibe, gobhir raatre pichhoner ghono bone jogdumurer gachhe lokkhipechar rob shona jaibe...keho konodin sedik maraibe na, gobhir jongole chapa-pora maayer se lebugachhtar shondhan keho konodin janibe na, or-kolmir ful futiya aapna-aapni jhoriya poribe, kul nona mithyai pakibe, holde-dana tero pakhita kandiya kandiya phiribe.
Boner dhare se opurbo mayamoy boikaalguli michhamichhi-i namibe chirodin.
Obela ek uthan loker shommukhe bina-bichare maar khaiao tahar chokh diya ek phota jol bahir hoy nai, kintu akhon nirjon ghorer janlata-te eka eka daraiya hothath se kandiya aakul hoilo, uchchhoshito chokher jol jhor-jhor koriya poriya tahar shundor kopol bhashaiya ditei chokh muchhite haat uthaiya aakul shure mone mone bolilo -- Aamader jano Nischindipur fera hoy--bhogobaan--tumi ei koro, thik jano Nischindipur jaoa hoy--noile bachbo na--paye pori tomar--
Pother debota proshonno hashiye bolen -- Murkho balok, poth to aamar shesh hoyni tomader graamer basher bone, thangare Biru Rayer bot-tolaye ki Dholchiter kheyaghater shimanaye? Tomader Shonadanga math chhariye, Ichhamoti paar hoye, podmofule bhora Modhukhali biler pash katiye, Betrobotir kheyaye pari diye, poth aamar chole galo saamne, saamne, shudhui saamne... desh chhere bidesher dike, shurjyodoy chhere shurjaster dike, janar gondi eriye oporichoyer uddeshye....
Din raatri paar hoye, jonmo moron paar hoye, maash, borsho, monnontor, mohajug paar hoye chole jaye....tomader jibon-shopno sheola-chhatar dole bhore aashe, poth aamar tokhono furoye na... chole...chole...chole... egiyei chole...
Anirban taar bina shone shudhu ananta kaal aar ananta aakash..
Se pother bichitro aanondo-jatrar odrishyo tilok tomar lolate poriyei to tomaye ghorchhara kore enechhi!...
Cholo egiye jai."
Chander Pahar
=============
"Bidaye Alvarez bondhu!....Shwadesh-e phire jaoar ei anonder muhurte tomar kothhai aaj mone hochche. Tumi sei doler manush, sara aakash jader ghorer chhad, sara prithibi jader paye cholar poth -- aashirbaad koro tomar moharonyer nirjon shomadhi theke, jano tomar moto hotey pari jibone, omoni shukh-dukkhe nispriho, omoni nirbhik.
Bidaye bondhu Attilio Gatti. Onek jonmer bondhu chhile tumi.
Tomra shobai miley shikhiyechho Chin deshe procholito sei prachin chhoratir shotyota-- Chhader aalsher dibbi chourosh ekkhani tali hoye onor obosthhaye shukhe-shochchonde thhakar cheye sfotik pathor hoye bhenge jaoao bhalo, bhenge jaoao bhalo, bhenge jaoao bhalo."
Pother Panchali
===============
"Oi jekhane aakasher tole aasharu-durgapur-er bandha shoroker gachher shari kromosho dur hoite dure giya poritechhe, or-i odike jekhane tahader gaa-er poth bakiya aashiya Shonadanga mather modhye uthiyachhe, shekhane pother thik sei mor-tite, graamer praanter buro jamtola-taye tahar didi jano mlanmukhe daraiya tahader railgarir dikey chahiya aache!....
Tahake keu loiya aashe nai, shobai feliya aashiyachhe, didi mara geleo dujoner khela korar potheghate, bashbone, aamtolaye se didike jano etodin kachhe kachhe paiyachhe, didir odrishyo sneho-sporsho chhilo Nischindipur-er bhanga kothabarir proti griho-kone -- aaj kintu shotyo-shotyoi didir shohit tahar chirokaler chharachhari hoiya galo !....
Tahar jano mone hoy didike aar keho bhalobashito na, maa noy, keu noy! Keho tahake chhariya aashite dukhito noy.
Hothath Apur mon ek bichitro onubhutite bhoriya galo. Taha dukkho noy, shok noy, biroho noy, taha ki se jane na. Koto ki mone aashilo olpo ek muhurter modhye ... Atoori daini ... nodir ghat ... tahader kothabarita, ... chalte-tolar poth ... Ranudi ... Koto boikal, koto dupur ... kotodiner koto haashikhela ... Potu ... didir mukh ... didir koto na-meta shaadh ....
Didi akhono ekdrishte chahiya aache ---
Porokkhonei tahar moner modhyer obak bhasha chokher jol-e atyoprokash koriya jano ei kothai baar baar bolite chahilo -- aami chaini didi, aami toke bhulini, ichche kore feleo aashini -- ora aamaye niye jachche.
Shotyoi se bhule nai.
Uttorjibone nilkuntola sagormekhola dhoronir shonge tahar khub ghonishtho porichoy ghotiyachhilo. Kintu jokhoni gotir puloke tahar sara deho shihoriya uthite thakito, shomudrogaami jahajer deck hoite proti muhurte nil aakasher nobo nobo mayaroop chokhe porito, hoyto drakkha-kunjo-beshtito kon nil porbotshanu shomudrer bilin chokrobaal shimaye dur hoite dure khin hoiya porito, durer osposhto aabchhaya-dekhite-paoa belabhumi ek protibhashali sursroshtar protibhar daaner moto mohamodhur kuhok-er srishti korito tahar bhabmoy mone -- tokhoni, ei shob shomoyei, tahar mone porito ek ghonoborshar raate, obisranto brishtir shobder modhye ek purano kothar ondhokaar ghore, rogshojyagrostho ek paragaayer gorib ghorer meyer kotha --
-- Apu, sere uthle aamaye ekdin railgari dekhabi?
Majherpara station-er distant signal-khana dekhite dekhite kotodure osposhto hoite hoite sheshe milaiya galo."
Pother Panchali
===============
"Oi aastaboler mathaye je aakashta, ori opare purbodike bohudure tahader Nischindipur.
Aaj kotodin se Nischindipur dakhe nai -- t-i-n botshor! Kotokaal!
Se jane, Nischindipur tahake dine-raate shob shomoy daake, Shankharipukur daak daye, bashbonta daak daye, Sonadanga math daak daye, Kodomtolar shayeber ghaat daak daye, Debi Bishalakkhi daak dan.
Poro vitar mishto lebu fuler gondhe shojnetolar chhayaye chhayaye aabar kobe gotibidhi? Aabar kobe tahader barir dharer shirish shondali bone pakhir daak?
Etodine tahader sekhane Ichhamotite borshar dhol namiyachhe. Ghater potha shimul tolaye jol uthiyachhe. Jhope jhope nata-kata, bonkolmir ful dhoriyachhe. Bon oporajitar nil fule boner matha chhaoa.
Tahader graamer ghat-tate kuch-jhoper pashe Rajukaka hoyto etokkhone tahar obhyeshmoto obelaye snan korite namiyachhe, chalte-pokar bake notun koshar boner dhare dhare Akrur majhi machh dhoribar doari patiyachhe, aaj shekhankar haat-baar, thakurjhi-pukurer sei botgachhtar pichhone digonte kono ranga aaguner fenar moto surjyo osto jaitechhe, aar tahar-i tolakar methopoth bahiya gramer chhele Potu, Nilu, Tinu, Bhola shob haat koriya firitechhe.
Etokkhone tader bone-ghera barir uthan-tate ghono chhaya poriya ashitechhe, kich kich koriya pakhi daakitechhe, sei mishto nishyobdo shanto boikaal -- sei holde pakhita aajo aashiya pachiler uporer konchir daal-tate sei rokom boshe, maayer haate pota lebucharatate hoyto etodin lebu folitechhe......
Aaro kichhukkhon pore tahader se vitaye shondhyer ondhokaar hoiya jaibe, kintu se shondhaye keho saanj jhalibe na, prodip dekhaibe na, roopkotha bolibe na. Jonohin vitar uthan-bhora kaalmegher jongole jhijhi poka daakibe, gobhir raatre pichhoner ghono bone jogdumurer gachhe lokkhipechar rob shona jaibe...keho konodin sedik maraibe na, gobhir jongole chapa-pora maayer se lebugachhtar shondhan keho konodin janibe na, or-kolmir ful futiya aapna-aapni jhoriya poribe, kul nona mithyai pakibe, holde-dana tero pakhita kandiya kandiya phiribe.
Boner dhare se opurbo mayamoy boikaalguli michhamichhi-i namibe chirodin.
Obela ek uthan loker shommukhe bina-bichare maar khaiao tahar chokh diya ek phota jol bahir hoy nai, kintu akhon nirjon ghorer janlata-te eka eka daraiya hothath se kandiya aakul hoilo, uchchhoshito chokher jol jhor-jhor koriya poriya tahar shundor kopol bhashaiya ditei chokh muchhite haat uthaiya aakul shure mone mone bolilo -- Aamader jano Nischindipur fera hoy--bhogobaan--tumi ei koro, thik jano Nischindipur jaoa hoy--noile bachbo na--paye pori tomar--
Pother debota proshonno hashiye bolen -- Murkho balok, poth to aamar shesh hoyni tomader graamer basher bone, thangare Biru Rayer bot-tolaye ki Dholchiter kheyaghater shimanaye? Tomader Shonadanga math chhariye, Ichhamoti paar hoye, podmofule bhora Modhukhali biler pash katiye, Betrobotir kheyaye pari diye, poth aamar chole galo saamne, saamne, shudhui saamne... desh chhere bidesher dike, shurjyodoy chhere shurjaster dike, janar gondi eriye oporichoyer uddeshye....
Din raatri paar hoye, jonmo moron paar hoye, maash, borsho, monnontor, mohajug paar hoye chole jaye....tomader jibon-shopno sheola-chhatar dole bhore aashe, poth aamar tokhono furoye na... chole...chole...chole... egiyei chole...
Anirban taar bina shone shudhu ananta kaal aar ananta aakash..
Se pother bichitro aanondo-jatrar odrishyo tilok tomar lolate poriyei to tomaye ghorchhara kore enechhi!...
Cholo egiye jai."
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Lord of the Rings
Finished reading the books once again. And saw the movies too. This seems to have become a habit. Every 3 months or so, I'd get this terrible urge to see the movies again. After seeing them, I'd get this terrible urge to read the books again. And after many hours of breakneck reading, when I finally finish all 4 books, I'd just have to see the movies again!
Something in this epic story of middle earth and all its fantastic tales seem to haunt me, shake me. I don't know exactly what I feel, can't find any particular word for it. J R R Tolkien was a man of immense talent. He brought a world, which doesn't exists, to life. Not only he saw it himself, he made millions others to see it. Peter Jackson's film just made it more accessible and publicised (the movies captured the spirit and tone of the books very well).
This is one of the very few stories where love plays a minor role. Courage, bravery, friendship and hope are the true heroes of this story. Its true that the story does have quite a number of love stories interwoven into it (Aragorn and Arwen being the most prominent), yet those are only substories, kept at the indices.
The sheer amount of writing J R R Tolkien did on this topic is quite amazing too. His son did many of the great edit works and compilations, but the real work was done by the master himself. The way he built layers of stories, starting from the first age, to the fourth....one just can't help but feel overwhelmed. It is unbelievable that this world did not exist...it was all made up (there are middle earth entusiats who REALLY believe that the world exists/existed. There are many strange theories supporting this, including the famous "Hollow earth" theory). I myself, knowing fully well that this is a work of fiction, sometimes can't help but feel that how wonderful it would be if this world existed. Every time I finish reading the books or finish watching the movies, I end up feeling sad. As if I want this story never to end, never to fade. There lies the magic of Lord of the Rings.
Something in this epic story of middle earth and all its fantastic tales seem to haunt me, shake me. I don't know exactly what I feel, can't find any particular word for it. J R R Tolkien was a man of immense talent. He brought a world, which doesn't exists, to life. Not only he saw it himself, he made millions others to see it. Peter Jackson's film just made it more accessible and publicised (the movies captured the spirit and tone of the books very well).
This is one of the very few stories where love plays a minor role. Courage, bravery, friendship and hope are the true heroes of this story. Its true that the story does have quite a number of love stories interwoven into it (Aragorn and Arwen being the most prominent), yet those are only substories, kept at the indices.
The sheer amount of writing J R R Tolkien did on this topic is quite amazing too. His son did many of the great edit works and compilations, but the real work was done by the master himself. The way he built layers of stories, starting from the first age, to the fourth....one just can't help but feel overwhelmed. It is unbelievable that this world did not exist...it was all made up (there are middle earth entusiats who REALLY believe that the world exists/existed. There are many strange theories supporting this, including the famous "Hollow earth" theory). I myself, knowing fully well that this is a work of fiction, sometimes can't help but feel that how wonderful it would be if this world existed. Every time I finish reading the books or finish watching the movies, I end up feeling sad. As if I want this story never to end, never to fade. There lies the magic of Lord of the Rings.
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