The mango tree

There were three mango trees beside the pond in my ancestral home. I have seen them since my early childhood and one of them bore quite an ample amount of fruit till the date a mastodon chopped them off for money.

 

The things which I loved most about those trees were they were home for a lot of birds. I used to sleep in a first floor bedroom back then, the branches of one of the trees almost touched my window. I used to sit at the window and watch the birds quite often.

 

Early dawn of summer meant a group of doyels singing a melody from the branches, these tiny birds had a very loud voice, enough to wake you up if you are sleeping near the window, but you wont grumble, that much I can assure you because they will bless you with a divine strain for next half an hour. It starts with a hesitant chirping, soon touches the peak and then stops.

 

Drowsy noon of summer meant the soothing call of doves, who used to sit on the braches in pair and softly sang while endlessly petting each other.

 

There were gorgeous kingfishers and woodpeckers. Both looking for their foods. One in the pond, and the other in the tree itself.

 

Occasional visitors like benebou, who called in the sweetest voice or the nightingales who were mostly silent but sometimes played a little symphony.

 

Then there were wingless beings too, gangs of langurs who came there for mangos or berries. Squirrels who lived there and ran around the branches playfully. It’s a great thing to have a fruit tree like that in home. They always invite birds and animals for food.

A river flowed by

My ancestral homes are situated on both banks of damodar river. One in burdwan, the one in which I lived till 7^th august 2007 and the second one in the opposite side of damodar, where our ancestors lived for centuries. Our old, almost ruined home is there. Every year Durgapuja is held there with a huge gathering. Apart from that Kalipuja is held with a small gathering and every other puja is performed in the temples created by my ancestors.

 

Damodar is most probably one of the most attractive rivers in India, it’s a very wide river, but maximum proportion of the river bed is sand, with small streams of water running through them. Crystal clear water, sometimes just wetting your feet and sometimes upto throat or may be more.  We were terrorized by elders and villagers that there are shifting sands and other scary things so we never ventured much.

 

I personally believe that most probably sometimes the sand banks gave away beneath the feet of a non swimmer plunging him into very deep water without any chances of getting out. We have seen those sand banks without water, they are sometimes very high, fifteen or twenty feet, may be more. And just like any other sand sculpture they are always ready to crumble.

 

I have spent a lot of time in the companionship of this river. One of my favourite hobbies was to wake up before dawn and take the longest possible route to the river bridge, watch the sunrise there and return home.

 

During the durgapujas I used to spend a lot of time having fun on its banks with my nephew and nieces. Splashing in the water and playing with the sand. Or just sitting there and talking for hours. Watching the river and enjoying its serene beauty.

A neem tree

How many of you have had a huge neem tree in your garden? We had one, in our courtyard; I think it was older than me. I recollect seeing it when I have visited my home as a small baby. Then childhood memories are quite tricky, but its trunk was massive so it might have been older than me. It was chopped down by the same troll, the greatest troll I have ever met in my lifetime and am not very keen to meet another or him again.

 

Neem trees are really beautiful, a little messy because they shed leaves but they compensate by wonderfully fragrant flowers. I love the fragrance of neem flowers and they look very beautiful too. I used to put the branches in flower vase after storm, they stayed fresh for a day or two, without fragrance though.. only the beauty.

 

The branches of this tree touched our roof, and created a wonderful hiding place for me, I used to climb down on a wide parapet with a book, or walkman and sit there for hours. I could see the surrounding from the cover of the leaves but was only partially visible to others. It gave a sense of disappearance in the crowd.

 

There were lots of squirrels on that tree; it also invited parrots and other birds with its ripe fruits. Parrots and koyals used to come and eat those bitter sweet fruits, my siblings also relished them, I tried a couple of times but did not love them much. I preferred the flowers and the tree itself.

 

We used to climb it a lot before a creeper completely covered it, that creeper had thorns, so we were deprived of that joy thereafter.

 

When a tree is standing in your garden for years it becomes like a living being, someone you know, I wonder why trolls don’t feel the same way. These people have an inborn hatred for every thing beautiful I believe, and its really painful to live around them.

Feeding

This joy unraveled itself to me as a pleasant surprise. It was the most pleasant surprise of my life.  

 

I don’t remember the exact year, it must be some time between 2001-2003, a cyclonic weather formed in my hometown, Burdwan. In West Bengal such weathers are not too unusual because the low pressure weather is not much different than it. The same symptoms, days without a single sight of sun and a steady drizzle, with or without wind.

 

During this weather disturbance I first encountered a hungry squirrel, I was drinking tea in our verandah, when that little thing scurried toward me, it was desperate with hunger because it started to eat crumbs hardly a feet away from me, so I did what every human being will do I guess, I slowly placed down a piece of biscuit as far away from myself as I could and it instantly grabbed it and ran away a little distance to eat it. Soon another follwed it and by the end of an hour I was happily feeding atleast a dozen of them and some bulbuls or nightingales. Thus started a  strange routine.

 

I bought a few packets of puffed rice and started to feed the squirrels, the weather cleared after a week but they did not ran away. I fed them till the last day I spent in Burdwan, that is seventh August 2005. We left early in the morning but I scattered the last meal for them in the garden before leaving.

 

They taught me how pleasing it is to feed a hungry soul. Very rare joys can compete with this specific joy I believe. The trust in their eyes, their childish pranks for food, the memory of those days will be treasured in my heart forever.

My cat

I have a pet cat. She is not my private property. She is a free soul, who roams around the whole neighbourhood and spends quite an ample time outside my window.

 

 

I prefer not to get attached to her, because getting emotionally attached to a stray will always be painful, especially if she is a noncommittal being like a cat. But they are safer for a person like me, who loves animals and birds. Why? They never get attached.

 

I have lived in my own home since sixteen years of age, my first experience of rented house started in 1999, and then I started to live in rented houses permanently from 2005. my first landlady was a very religious type of woman , we used to feed a stray dog and that created a lot of problems, since then I promised myself that I wont feed strays from house. Canines get attached. Their loyalty is what makes them my favourite creatures.

 

I would not have fed kitso either, that’s the name of my feline friend, but she conquered my resistance, and it’s her, who became my pet. She spends quite an ample amount of time outside my window, watching me. She is a real doll. If it was my ho\me I would have taken her in months ago, she is that cute.

children

Small children are God’s greatest gifts to human beings. I truly adore them, ever since my teenage my nephew and nieces have showered me up with their devoted affection. So I lived almost fifteen years in their close companionship, that is through mails and occasional visits. Unfortunately most of them lived quite far away from my home and my own sibling’s children are very small. Actually my own siblings taught me one should not get too much attached to other people’s children, a lesson which my cousins never taught me, they were pretty happy when their children ignored them and flocked around me.

 

Ever since seeing parental jealousy in its darkest form I have decided to stay away from other people’s children but still their angelic beauty always impresses me. If a person wants to live a really happy life he can learn to live from children.

 

I truly love to see the world through their eyes, their eyes of trust, happiness and forgiveness. Have you ever noticed how happy children are in their day to day affairs? Climbing stairs is a fun to them, watching a bird or beast or flower is a thing of great joy to them. So is running around, basking in sun, drenching in rain, playing with water.. their list of happy activities is too long.

 

Their hearts are huge. They will instantly forgive you even if you are absolutely wrong. They will trust you with all their heart. Even though I should ask people to practice caution in these two things but again I will say that if we want to be happy we should practice “rrust with caution” and “forgiveness with caution”. What if instead of making people earn our trust we do the other way round? Trust people till they convince us that they are untrustworthy? Or try to forgive others as long as they don’t convince us that they should not be forgiven?

 

I truly believe in that old quote “Child is the father of the man.”.

Kalipuja

Most of the urban Bengalis celebrate deepawali, but to some rare and lucky people like me, who have a “desher bari aka family home in village” are blessed with the chance of celebrating the real Kalipuja.



Well, let me warn you in the very beginning its not for feeble hearted people.

My ancestral home is under Khandaghosh P.S., its an old single storied home, atleast a few hundred years old, surrounded by ruins of our earlier abodes. The scenery is simply mind blowing.

On one side there is river damodar with its vast spread banks of sand and small gardens, on the other side are ruins, bushes, trees, bamboo groves and empty land.



Our home lights up only five days per year, during the durgapuja, when the entire family gathers. They bring generator sets and electricians who light up the entire house. It is enveloped in darkness through out the remaining year, the only mean of light is primitive forms like lantern and candle.

I have been to the Kalipuja a few times only, the place is not very safe so I had to stop myself from visiting regularly, but the memory of those puja is never to be erased from my heart and mind.

Kalipuja starts at midnight of the amavasya and the idol is immersed on bhaiphonta aka bhaidooj (the day after kalipuja). We - I, my two siblings and my uncle used to land in home at about noon of Kalipuja, after that my uncle used to leave to locate the purohit and see if the preparations are going in the right direction, and we used to fish out the pradeeps to clean them up and fill them with oil.



We used to place them all around the house after the dusk has settled in, with the help of others. I still rue the lack of a good camera, by which we could take the snap of that marvelous picture which those lighted pradeeps used to make at night.

Those of you who have a little imagination can just close your eyes and imagine a very old house surrounded by utter darkness. Only the house is lighted with simmering pradeeps, lined up beautifully against the dark sky and the dark surroundings. I still can see that scene after ten years in my mind’s eye.

After the puja used to start we used to gather in the pujamandap with handcounted villagers, who had sacrificed the funs of crackers to attend the puja. The pujamandap used to be dimly lit, with a couple of lanterns and petromaxes (a lantern like thing which burns atleast ten times brighter). We used to silently sit there, half dozing or watching the puja.

I used to slip out before the balidan (animal sacrifice), and go to the home, and sit at the gate, silently watching the people of Burdwan bursting crackers. As the only thing between Burdwan and my village was vast bank of Damodar river and the river itself I could see the bright crackers.



That’s a non forgettable memory. Not a single soul any where, just me and the silent surroundings. The sky full of stars, a silent dark row of ruined rooms where once was atithishala (rooms for travellers seeking shelter for night), and our own ancestor’s abodes, a sleepy riverbank lined by trees, the sky full of light of firecrackers.

We used to return the next morning, the purohit used to take care of the puja of the remaining two days, and the bisarjan.

Durgapuja diary

kalabou...

Maha Shashthi :

Till 1998 I used to go to my ancestral home in a village for durgapuja, then we shifted to kolkata first temporarily then permanently and it stopped.

In our hearts durgapuja starts from janmashtami, when the first touch is given to the idol in our puja dalan (the place where deity is placed during puja).

The complete feeling starts to flood in with the first dhak (drum) beats of vishwakarma puja (it falls on 17th september, I believe its celebrated as per english date).. then the recitation by birendrakrishna bhadra on Mahalaya, and the magic is complete. The countdown used to start.

Shashti morning meant the gathering of relatives one by one in our burdwan home. By afternoon we were in our village home with every thing packed with us. A generator set with electrical appliances, a cook, cooking utensils, grocery.. every thing including our personal stuff.

In every old family which holds durgapuja perfectly durgapuja starts on shashti evening, with inviting the goddess in the deity (clay idol) .. it is called pranpratishtha (bringing in the soul). None of us could imagine missing it, it’s a magical journey and we could feel the Goddess gently descending inside the clay body. Deity becomes mother.

Shashti mainly passed away in settling ourselves with all the bag and baggages in the home already cleaned up after being deserted for almost an year. And in relishing the company of all the relatives that have been able to gather, and a short trip around the home.. in the village.

Mahasaptami:

There is a asana (a seat) outside my village home, where an ancestor of mine has meditated and finally he saw mother goddess Kali.

There is a popular belief in our village that she still protects our ancestral home from mischievous creatures after darkness..people have seen her more than once (I am not one of those blessed souls).

So the asana is called panchamundi’s asana because five heads (including a human) are buried there.

Before every holy occasion this place is worshipped, every morning during durgapuja the dhakis (drummers) play their drums there at 4 AM. That’s wake up call for those who want to go to puja dalan to either see the puja completely or do stuffs, like mine was stiching garlands.. a huge number of them are required every morning. Candidates for stiching were too little then and there was an additional headache.. we had to collect the flowers too.. in an alien place, where we come only for five days every year.

So I rarely missed the dhakis.. I used to get up within a few minutes and change to look for flowers.

Saptami morning meant taking kalabou (Ganesha’s wife) to the river and bathe her. After that she was wrapped in a red border white saree and brought back with the kalash filled with water. She was escorted by girls of the family who waited with two kamandalus ( a special kind of jug with a very narrow pouring part like kettles), they used to sprinkle water in front of the people carrying her.. it meant sanctifying the path of the goddess.

Then the puja started. I used to stay in the puja dalan as much as possible.. leaving only once before arati to take my bath and change for the pushpanjali. Arati is worshipping the god/goddesses with various articles.. which are required by any one every day. Pushpanjali is of course the offering of flowers.

After that we used to retire to the home with prasad.. nothing else for the day, the sandhya arati .. a very long affair was held at night.

The in between time was utilized chatting with each other. Or sight seeing. Well, my village is quite beautiful. Its situated on the bank of damodar and is green.. full of bamboo groves, gardens, ponds and fields of various vegetables, rice and other things.

Sitting beside the river for hours is enough joy. Especially if you are chatting with a huge group of cousins. The crystal clear water is flowing through the sand, split in narrow streams.. it’s a divine sight for nature lovers.

A formal visit to home is made for lunch and then we either slept or went off again to return at the dusk.

Then it was tea time, music and stories. Clustered in the same room relishing each other’s company till the sandhya arati started. Of course we had to change dresses half heartedly before that.

After atleast an hour of sandhya arati we used to return for another round of chatting and eating.. finally hitting the floor.. yes, no bed nothing.. only bed sheet, pillows and mosquito net. But sleep came like a fairy with magic wand. We used to wake up only because of one reason barking of dogs, who used to gather in flocks for the left overs.

Mahashtami

This is the third day of Durgapuja. The most important day to Bengalis who perform this puja seriously, in orthodox way. Special puja is held at the junction of mahashtami and mahanavami it is called sandhikshan-the meeting moment. Every family which has been holding this puja for atleast a century have their own special rituals for this sandhipuja- arati and pushpanjali at sandhikshan; ours is offering 108 lotus and light up a tray with 108 pradeeps.

I have never missed the pushpanjali of sandhikshan, it means staying put without even a drop of water till the pushpanjali, the latest pushpanjali I remember was at two in the morning.

We had to bloom those lotus buds petal by petal very carefully before sandhikshan. That was a great get together of the entire family in the pujadalan. It hardly mattered he was fasting or not, every one loved to bloom those lotuses.

If the Sandhikshan was late that meant we were split in two parts, a considerable portion relaxing in the home while the other not so considerable portion was out, roaming in the village as usual. I was in the second part. It was no use sitting at home and watch others eating, was it?

Mahanabami

 

Mahanabami used to bring a feeling of sadness with it. In old families there is not much to do in vijayadashami morning, specially for members. Though my seniors used to ask for some garlands, but I believe that was because they wanted to console us.

 

So Mahanabami means almost end of puja, and beginning of waiting for another year. A deep sense of sadness creeps in, no matter how much you try to push it away.

 

There was only one bonus, the sandhyarati used to be very long, well, our arati used to be amply long in the first place, because the priests used to go as slow as possible while we stood there choking in the smoke created by incense sticks and dhuno (a powder which creates thick, perfumed smoke when sprinkled on simmering fire created by coconut skin).

 

It used to be our target to stand near the pillars, so we could lean on them during those long hours of arati. The youngsters competed for the chamars (a monstrous brush like thing used for the purpose of hand-fans).

 

 

Vijayadashami

 

Vijayadashami meant end of the fun days. Those who used to wake up early to do the puja arrangements could stay in bed for a little late. Only those who were absolutely devoted woke up early and left for the pujadalan.

 

After a brief puja the priest used to move the mangalghat a little, that meant that the Goddess has left for her home. Then some special rituals were held. The eldest bride of the whole family used to take a tray of rice and pradeeps from the pujadalan to laxmir ghar (the room where the goddess of wealth, Malakshmi resides). Then the men used to write the name of mother goddess durga on the leaves of bel, well we women joined them in the later years. How can we be deprived of that pleasure?

Then the mangalghat was immersed in river, any one who wanted to accompany it was allowed to do so. We used to utilize this occasion for a lengthy bath in the river.

 

Then the married women of the family used to apply sindur to the deity and feed sweets to her. It’s quite a well known ritual these days, called sindurkhela, its one of the favourite display of movies and serials, after dhunuchi nach (which is not a part of our puja).

 

The deity is carried outside the pujadalan in the evening, that is the only occasion when we can touch it, and we touch its feet.

 

Carriers take her away for immersion after the darkness falls; the men of the family accompany her, women crowd on the roof to see her as far as we can. Usually at-least one of the male members carry flashlight with them and keep shining it on her face so we could get her glimpses.

 

Then we come downstairs and start a short tour, offering our pranams to half a dozen temples around the home. Then we touch the feet of elders and hug those who refuse to touch feet or receive pranams. By the time we women have finished it men used to return and change into typical Bengali dress – dhuti panjabi, after that we all used to gather in the pujadalan.

 

Then the men used to touch the feet of elders, that was a beautiful thing to watch. They were seated seniority wise and the ceremony started from the youngest. Touching feet and hugging each other. This ceremony over a small function was held that every one back to their homes. Sad and tired.

 

Ekadashi

 

Ekadashi meant goodbye time. Wake up as late as you wish. My ekadashi meant roaming around the village wearing my gown, with a cup of tea in my hand.

 

We cant imagine that happiness in urban pujas. We used to return to our urban homes after taking the lunch and resting for a while.

 

With the deep yearning for the next puja.

Cute kitso

Meet kitso: my self proclaimed pet.. a pet I am trying to ignore as much as I can because I live in a rented house and I don’t want any problem with my landlords.

But every morning I open my windows she appears.. a cute little thing begging for biscuits.

Thrice she has showed up with boyfriends too, first one was tiny bandit, who pounced on her biscuits.. next two were really cute looking as herself, but all disappeared after a night.

She is a darling thing but I have to pretend that she doesnot exists..

two too boring things

two boring things in one day...

first, i was simply relaxing in the morning when a friend of mine asked to chat, no i dont chat with any one but two of my friends.. because the chatting is horrible here.. my connection is too slow and disturbs too much. well, i tried yahoo first, i tried to log in it ordered me to supply to secret questions+answers or else it wont let me enter. i decided to not log in at all. i will stop using them completely..they can keep their silly rules for themselves, i have last taken orders from my parents.

second, i logged in in wordpress to put up my latest blogs and saw that they have changed the entire look of the website.. and i hated the new one... i loved the old one where we could see the latest blogs.. :(

i

his way

When do we actually grow up? When we learn to accept it gracefully that the person I love most may have his very own way of life, which may not resemble with mine at all.

We may be as different as black and white, our maturity reflects when we don’t try to prove ourselves superior, or try to pull him down so we can be alike.

We simply accept his ways and decide whether we can continue the journey together. If not then we may walk away after discussing the reasons.

So many times I see people hurting themselves and others by this attempt to change others.. trying to make a businessman out of a saint or saint out of a businessman. Somewhere deep inside it reflects immaturity, which wants to control the other person’s life.

Just wondering

Why do some people love to shock/hurt others just because they live a miserable life....

Why do some people hurt others because they have been hurt in the same way by some one else...

Why dont we share the happiness of others instead of dragging happy people in the circle of our misery and pain?

Why do we prefer to stare in dark instead of lighting up a candle.. which will illuminate atleast our immediate surrounding?

Death traps

Ever since my childhood I have heard from my parents to not let any of my body parts jutt out of a moving vehicle, whatever it is. I think its time that in kolkata atleast passengers should be a little serious about their well being, where vehicles are busy in speeding in narrow lanes.... without least respect for lives.

Yesterday an horrid thing happened in which three persons lost their right arms which were jutted out of the bus they were travelling in. Another bus in frenzy to overtake it brushed against it, causing this horrifying thing.

We, the dwellers of kolkata are well aware of these accidents.. the reckless driving, horrible state of roads.. then why do we let these reckless creatures play games with our lives?

I have seen people going down right at the middle of the street... just because the conductor told so. Or descending from a moving vehicle.. just because the conductor told so again..

I have had an unpleasant experience of similar kind, but in that case I think the driver and conductor were both lunatis. I always preferred saree, when i used to go to office. That day too, i was wearing a saree, I asked a behala-howrah station bus to stop, it stopped. As I reached the bus and started to climb I saw a woman was descending, the conductor asked me to step down so she could descend.. that IDIOT was looking out of the door, my back was toward the door and I instinctively took a step backward to descend..unfortunately without looking, and when my feet touched the ground I noted the bus was moving in quite a speed.. well my karate lessons and highly flexible body saved me from losing a limb, i managed with my saree, my office bag and all to stay on my feet, i noted down the number of the bus, I once thought about handing it over to the traffic cops, but i dont think it would have served any purpose, so i did not. But from that day onward I swore to myself I will never trust these IDIOTS with my life again. I sternly wait for the buses to stop before i descend.

I think instead of endangering their life and limbs kolkata people should wake up and :

1. Refuse ascend/descend in the middle of the street.
2. To ascend/descend from a moving vehicle
but the third thing is their own responsibility.. they cant blame the drivers or anyone else but their misfortune for this..
3. to keep their limbs inside the vehicle.

power cut

Ever since i shifted to west bengal in 1985, one knowledge has dawned to me day by day .. that is why the industrial development is almost zero in this state. the massive amount of power cut and its precise timing (as if on a preplanned manner) must be the greatest contributor behind the factor that industrialists are scared of this state.

when i was a student i used to observe with great amusement how powercut was directly proportional to exam time, specially the board examinations. just after the tests were over and we were given the study leave all of a sudden electricity used to become a rare phenomenon.. exam over and every thing back to normal.

i have only worked with manufacturers once, garment manufacturers, and there i saw how nightmarish production is in this state. hours of powercut was every day story.. even personal generator set was not enough to save them. doing something from this state which needs electricity, ahem, i guess a thing which is an essence of any production these days is a perfect nightmare.

God save this state.

unsung songs

Friends, people who fill up our lonely hours, who act as wind beneath our wings and the people we mostly neglect. We miss them and regret this fact when we have parted our ways, not out of dislikation, out of priorities..

When I look back, I think about some of them with deepest affection. Even though I rarely mixed with men before my thirties, I humbly admit most of these are men I met after crossing my thirties.

First person who comes into my mind is steve, an angel without wings from chicago, who completely changed my life by becoming my mentor.

Four more fabulous friends from the same time, ashish, madhavan, pradeep and girish.. they have acted like wind beneath my wings for years. Two of them are still my friends.

Three guys I met while I was working in a circus (a corporate office run by a drama queen) who taught me that worst environment doesnot kills a man’s soul Wriju, Rohit and Adnan.

The next guy, though he is 11 years junior than me, I can open heartedly admit that I almost adore him. He is ideal human being and boss in my eyes. He brought up my nerves from ashes after leaving drama queen and made me a human being again.. shubhadeep. Wherever he is my heart and soul blessings are, were and will be always with him.

Fortunately now I have dozens of fantastic friends under one roof. And most of them are girls… ladies, these women has changed my point of view about women and convinced me that women can be the very best friends of women. But there are guys too, who are equally fantastic. I just dote after them. they mean too much to me.

two types

in our life we will meet two types of people, one who are not shy to show their real face to the world..if they are good they wear it on their sleeves, if they are bad then too they wear it on their sleeves.

The second type are the tricky ones, the ones I really don’t feel safe with, people who hide their evil nature by extreme sweetness. And often mimic good people (or semi angels) to the perfection to have their ways. Have seen ample amount of these people, and the moment I recognize them I instantly withdraw from them (by the means of heart).

trust

On one hand they say
“trust everyone even if they put you down”

then they say
“if a person fools you once its his fault, if he fools you twice, its your FAULT.”

Being born and brought up amongst self contradictory phillosophies I took the path best for me, listening to myself, to my own soul and then others.

Trusting a person is good for a healthy life, but too much trust can be toxic. If a person lets down your trust too much, too many times its better to let that person go. No matter how indispensable that person is. He should go.

His intentions may be harmless, but the fact is his presence is toxic to you, you can point out his way once, twice but how many times will you say, “you are hurting me” without feeling guilty? Its better to move over.

Later when we look back at these relationships we thank ourselve for moving on.

After we all have but one life, why waste it among people who are toxic for us?

Ten promises to myself

One, always love and forgive myself. Try to forgive others, and if I cant, be indifferent after extracting the lesson.

Two, neither bulldoze someone, nor let anyone do that. God has given every one enough capacity to handle his life, we can help others by suggesting.. that’s it.

Three, always treat myself like queen and others too (unless they make me change my mind).

Four, always find out some time in day to listen to my favourite songs.

Five, to enjoy, appreciate nature, and thank God for blessing me with this beautiful planet.

Six, always read something which will bring some smile to my lips.. jokes, cartoons any thing.

Seven, always start counting my blessings when my soul is trying to suck me downwards.

Eight, never fail to leave some encouragement for those who are feeling down.

Nine, to love withoug judging. Simply love, hold affection or compassion.. but whatever I do, should do it without judgment or with least judgment.

Ten, forever remember we all have only one life, and all have their share of problem. Try not to increase the problems of others, and never let them increase mine

second thanks

I have truly admired ambumani ramadoss since the day he banned smoking in public places, not that it stopped it, but it showed he cared.

Second thing I loved about him was his earnest attempt to revoke the unfair treatment of people who love people of same gender. It was widely criticized but his seed has become a tree. Finally indian government has taken this too much needed step of treating normal citizens as normal citizens. Keeping my fingers crossed that it wont be revoked. My best wishes for these harmless, normal human beings who have been unfairly mistreated for years and famillies have ruined because of an unfair law.

Supported with best wishes.

rainy days

The time of year, which is a little too long for west bengal or any other coastal region but still is charming.

Those drops pouring down from above, soothing every thing they touch. It’s a great fun for homebirds like me. To stand at the window and watch them pouring down. Specially after the scorching heat which we faced this year.

Every thing transforms with them, the trees become greener, small sprouts start to shoot up every where, vines start to grow in a grat speed and their dazzling, fresh green colour is too much soothing to the eyes.

I just loved to see those pearldrops coming down on vibrant green grass and bushes, trees.

Additional benefits are always there, the coolness enveloping our bodies after scorching heat.

easy fame

When I was a child I used to get shocked when a group of writers used to thrive on criticising tagore and his personal life with a necrophilliac glee. they used to criticise his works, his personal life everything about it with the joy with which zombies feast on corpses. ignoring the horror on the faces of normal human beings.

Even in my childhood I used to get shocked that how could they be so cheap to criticize a writer’s personal life, even years after he has departed (without being asked for). Even then I knew, if we have any right on a celebrity.."if".. its on his works, we may criticise it (though i would rather prefer to present the improved version instead of criticising others)... not his personal life.

I remember my hot favourite tennis player (all time) who is coincidentally homosexual. I once said to someone that she is my favourite, and the first comment I heard was she is ugly and homosexual. I patly replied that as she is not my would be daughter in law I don’t have any thing to do with her personal life. I still respect that player with all my heart and always will. She is my dream sportslady.

Now after Michael Jackson is finally resting in peace, another group of necrophilliacs are out at job.

Do they sleep blissfully at night?

disillusions

I have been born and brought up in a religious (not fanatic) family, a family with hundreds of years of holding various pujas perfectly at home. Not the puja which every hindu holds at the home altar, but the pujas which are performed on specific dates..durgapuja, kalipuja, lakshmipuja, saraswatipuja etc.

My ancestral home number 1 has atleast a dozen temples still maintained by my family through our priests. Being born in such a family, very naturally I had a deep attraction for God. And I admit without least embarassment that my being depends on God.

I simply love the atmosphere which says something holy. I feel a deep attraction toward it.

I have a marvellous friend, Girish, a couple of years ago he manipulated me into doing meditation, I do it as per my own rules, and he is quite aghast about that. But, the thing which I noted within a few weeks of starting it that an old sensation was coming back to me, a deep feeling at the junction point of both eyebrows. As if there is some pressure. Girish was quite impressed by that.

Then I read during my medical transcription course that one of the sinuses is located exactly at that place.

What a disillusionment!!!

borrowed things..

Happiness purchased on borrowed resources never last. This is a golden truth of life.

I have often heard a proverb in my childhood, don’t wear other people’s jewelleries.. if you get attached to them you will hurt yourself. If you lose them you will hurt yourself.

So very true, it is specially reflected in today’s credit card age. I really feel pity for those who borrow money and double pity for those who get attached to borrowed luxury.

Where have those days gone when the lady of the house used to pin point at the beginning of month how much money should go to which account? And she used to follow that to the core.

I still prefer that lifestyle. Save money and then buy the things. Today we both work in good posts and bought a flat on borrowed money, massive instalments due every month.. then job market goes down and one loses job.. the creditors start to humilliate out on the street..

Its far better to spread one’s leg to the limit which the spread covers it.

Its not that the people of our earlier generations did not built their homes, they did, but ten years later than we do. But by their own money. Without the fear of being haunted by creditors.

dieting

This is one thing which doesnot works on me. I am hyper skinny, and I stuff myself with all junk foods, yet I don’t gain a single kilo.

I eat chocolate, rice, potato, egg, cold drink, chips.. what not. Yet, I am just at the optimum level of skinniness.

I have once read somewhere that plump figures have more to do with basal metabolic rate than food habits. People who have low BMR will gain weight at the minimum provocations, and people like me will not, no matter how much they flunk the rules.

At the end, lucky me!!!

swine flu..invited to india

From whichever angle we observe it, most probably clumsiness of indian authorities invited swine flu to india. Lately I was reading someone in net, he said an invaluable thing.. why was not it mandatory for all people going abroad/returning from abroad to produce a fitness certificate?

How can a government be this clumsy? Do they know what is the net result of inviting a disease like this in india? Where people proudly move around with contagious diseases, without being least bothered about the danger they are causing to others.

Or in a country where people don’t have the money to go to doctor unless they are extremely sick.. how many people will be infecting before visiting the doctor?

Now that it has landed, as anticipated, hope least number of lives is sacrificed to its altar.

staying on top

When we look at the glamour world, we will note with little disappointment that it had one too many lifes snuffed out too young.

They often raise our eyebrows, make some lips smirk by their ways, but they again and again prove one harsh truth, that they pay too dearly for their easy access to fame and money.

Too much interference in their private life.. I don’t know how they suffer it, because I am too protective about my privacy, I don’t even share my all thoughts with others.

Too many traps, they always have to be aware, whether their next mate is after them, their money or just another kiss and tale mate.

I always see them with deep sympathy I don’t even make fun of people who are famous laughing stocks, because somehow deep within me I realize that they are just like you and me, who just cant adjust themselve to an “visible to all” life.

They again and again prove the proverb, its easy to reach the top, but very tough to stay there and be yourself.