Fire

Blazing,
Luminous with its bursting ego.
Hot,
Flames dancing,
To the rhythm of its own unruly winds.
Embers,
Jumping in an anticipatory prayer,
For the release.

I am the Fire,
.. The Bursting Ego,
.. The Dancing Flames
.. The Praying Embers

I am the fire within myself,
I burn,
As inside, so outside;
I wait, turning amberoid under the sky blue & black,
For the embers to ebb away,
And the heaving chest of Life’s museum, to sleep..

-Palash

Midnight Deliberations

Clouding Visions,
Blurring that thin line,
Is it the fiction games that nights play?

A Slamming Door,
beyond the threshold of misunderstandings,
more than a lifetime of outpourings.

A Stupidly earnest mirror,
Tied by its own mercenary conscience,
Remains true to all emotions you don't want to see reflected.

A pompous old clock,
Stuck up, married to its own foolish ego,
Just refuses to heed your cries of just pausing and letting go.

The Teakwood bed,

Though itself bedridden with termites,

Waits faithfully to lull me into that aimless soulless sleep.

Unfair!

Strings of my old guitar,
I need you to catch in the tune today,
The Cobwebs I've cleared,
I just need to strum,
need to strum along
need to strum along..

All night Long!

-Palash

Reel Review : The White Balloon

Perhaps It's a cliche in itself, but most of us "the learned" consider ourselves as great movie critics. Savouring and commenting on script,direction,acting, cinematography and what not.

Had always been pondering on penning down a movie review, but never in my "day-dreams" had I thought that my first would be that of an Obscure Iranian Movie. It being an uncomfortably warm Sunday Night, I had been browsing through the movie channels as sleep was eluding the senses as usual. Jurassic Park was on in HBO, Tranformers in Star Movies & Phir Hera Pheri in Zee Cinema. And I was rewatching and reliving all of them alternately.

Due an unfortunate timed ad-session in all the 3 channels,was forced to look for other pastures. It was then when I came across that movie "The White Balloon" in UTV World. A sad-faced little Iranian Girl talking to her mother. The whole scene had such a symphatetic touch to it. I decided to savour the movie then & there.

After Darsheel Safary's heart-wrenching act in Taare Zameen Par, Aida Mohammadkhani's portrayal of the 7 year old girl who just wants a pretty goldfish for the new year, is probably THE most convincing child act I have ever seen in my life. Such Brilliance! Such Innocence! Every single shot of the movie exudes a certain on-the road kind of charm, as if it could be happening anywhere, to anybody, at any time. The Bustling Roads of Tehran, the courtyard of an Iranian Family, the tensions in the stuggling household have been picturized to the point of perfection. The Girls helplessness in losing her gift money, her brother's attempts to help her at all times and the acts of numerous people who come to their assistance are the scenes worth watching.

It was a time well spent in pursuit of that 500 Tomar Note. Hoping to catch glimpses of such more gems soon.

(N.B : The While Balloon was made in 1995 by Zafar Panahi in Iranian/Persian. It earned acclaimed reviews and International Movie Awards including the

• Gold Award, Tokyo International Film Festival, 1995
• Best International Film, Sudbury Cinéfest, 1995
• International Jury Award, São Paulo International Film Festival, 1995)

I Day : The 65th

Independence Day. The 65th in the History of our still relatively young Nation. Ever since we passed out of school, the figurative importance of this day has declined on an exponential basis. Regret to say that I almost slept through all the 4 I-Days that saw me through college. Now, even though as a part of fulfilling a commitment being a Public Sector Organization, I have actually celebrated Independence day for the first time since the past 5 years.

Amidst all the wishes & Greetings, Thoughts & Debates exchanged, few phrases and para-phrases actually got me thinking on the significance of it all (not just the face value of the celebrations that we participate in). Would like to document these :

1. We are the Manifestations of our Intent trapped in Flesh & Bones. Unless the Intent is there, even countless I-Days are not going to help.

2. Independence isn't an end in itself. It's not the ultimate goal. Independence merely provides an opportunity to begin - to begin the process of change.

3. 25 Organizations call a Bandh on Independence Day celebrations all across Assam. Is everyone only after the greed or there really has been some serious oversight by the Nation's Bureaucrats?

4. 15th August : A Nation is Born. 16th August : One of India's greatest living patriots decides to go on a fast. Doesn't it sound familiar to what happened to Gandhiji after Partition?

5. Someone mentioned India is great because she never invaded any nation in the 10,000 years of her ancient existance. Wasn't she busy getting invaded herself? Why do we lie to ourselves? If one takes away the oneness of the National Freedom Struggle & the wars with China & Pakistan, there is very little that binds us together as Indians. We need that thread to revive. 

6. Can Globalization be held responsible for the decline in Patriotism?

I Think we really need to find answers to the above, even before we start calling ourselves as forward-marching!

The Indian State : Failed & Doomed?

The Economic Recession sweeping over the United States & Europe had been much talked and hyped over in India. Not long ago, the Ballooning Recession bubble had finally burst; leading to catastrophic consequences in the Economies of these nations, which ultimately needed to be bailed out by money plucked from peoples' pockets. Unscrupulous Investment Banks of these Power Nations had got to their knees, firing away people left-right&centre to save themselves from drowing (few even did). After year long stimulus packages, it seemed the rubble of the bubble-burst was finally getting cleaned off.

Two important developments now have changed the whole equation :  As per latest reports (sourced : http://www.tehelka.com/story_main50.asp?filename=Ws020811OPINION.asp) , Indian Ventures like FlipKart and MakeMyTrip are being vulgarly over-valuated in the Wall Street, even after making losses or only marginal profits. That's pure American Myopia for you. This is how the Bubble builds up to an Obsene Obese Diameter & then bursts.

Secondly, the famous Standard & Poor's rating of United States having slipped from the enviable AAA. As the word goes, when the US sneezes, the World gets a cold. By standards, India seems to be on Malaria. Share Prices have fallen to an all time low in14 months. And just when we thought the worst was over for us.

Its just the tip of the iceberg I fear. Indian Corporates (the same guys who celebrated Diwali when Congress won its 2nd Term) are now fearing that the era of Indian Economic Reforms is probably nearing its inevitable end. The Government on the other hand, is caught up in a shameless face saving act, doing nothing but getting embroiled in all sorts of scams and controversies. And then making a great show of denying the same.

All this while Sonia Gandhi quietly undergoes some major surgery in a US Hospital (of course the chances of getting "mis" treated at the hands of a "Degree-Buyer"  Doctor or a "Caste/Religion Bought" Doctor is pretty less there.)

So much for the nation. God speed!

Story : Mid-Mornings in April

It was a warm Sunday April morning. The Fan was still whizzing tiredly above Sanjay’s Head, tired from its night long ordeal. The Birds had long since left their nests for their share of food. Eyes opened, Sanjay kept staring into space for a long time, trying to recollect what he had been dreaming about the night before. Or was it today morning? ‘’It’s always so tough with dreams! It must have been about the cat.” he hastily decided. He seemed to have that dream often. Thousands and thousands of cats blocking his way, refusing to let him go until he apologised why he had knocked down one of them on the road once. Stupid!

He pulled himself up but had to spend another five minutes searching for the damn slippers. The Bai

must have come by now. She’s never late, that woman. The clanging of the utensils as if echoed his very thoughts. It took Sanjay another half an hour to freshen up, to suit the world outside the privacy of his one room apartment. He never cared about breakfast much, though the Bai (arranged by one of his own relatives uptown) took all care to feed him as deemed fit for a growing man his age. He saw a sinister hand of his mother in this sometimes.

It had been a month since he had got a Sunday off. But Sanjay felt no different. In fact he had already begun to adjust to the ‘7 days a week’ demands of his new job. Today seemed a bit odd actually. He tried surfing the news channels but they seemed concerned only with last night’s match which he hadn’t even bothered to watch. He even tried calling one or two of his college friends, but they seemed to be asleep still. It’s hard to let go of certain habits- Sanjay smiled to himself.

Finally, he decided on filling up the diary. The Diary he had started writing since the 2^nd year of college. Though not a regular logger, Sanjay liked to make an entry here and there. He liked going back to dates and looking up past events. Anyway last month had been eventful, with a business trip to Hong Kong and a subsequent holiday in South East Asia. He needed to get that down; perhaps with some pictures he had clicked. Another Fifteen minute search later, the diary was finally recovered from the remains of his college rubble.

“Now where the hell did my pen go?” Sanjay muttered to himself. As it so happens, it had rolled down to some oblique corner underneath his study. He kept the diary on the mahogany stool nearby and had to go down on all fours to extricate the stupid pen. And on his way out, he knocked down the stool. And his Diary.

Exasperation got the better of his bored mind “Damn it! Forget the Diary. I’ll write someday later.” He bent down to pick it up and stash it somewhere else. But there, just near the tiny crack in the Left Cover Jacket of said Diary, was a Dry Rose. Complete with its leaves and thorns. Just lying there on the cold concrete of Sanjay’s Apartment 201.

It took Sanjay a second to realise that it must have fell off the Diary of his. But the sight of the shrivelled rose sent his mind off into a sojourn. 4 years back into time. Into a similar warm Sunday April mid-morning at his college.

November: 4 Years Ago

It had been almost a month since Sanjay had been thinking of Neha. The Girl puzzled him. Common for a teenage boy his age, Sanjay had set foot on the college with a mind to win and tame the most beautiful and the most gorgeous. He had even succeeded on many counts. Girls just seemed to get jelly legs front of him. For a whole year, he went about undefeated in his conquest for ‘whatever synonym he attached to’ love.

Then Neha happened. It was not something the movies patronized, not something one would call love in first sight. He had had regular encounters with her all throughout his first year at college, going on to become good friends later. “I just woke up one day realizing I liked her” was how he would describe it to others. Words failed him beyond that point. What Sanjay knew was that she was just like any other girl; good looking perhaps (though a longer face would have done no harm), smart, witty, always giggling and gurgling among the group of her friends. Perhaps it was something in those eyes of hers. He had never seen such inviting mocking eyes before. Not even in the heydays of his conquests!

It was different with Neha. More the water that passed under the bridge, more became Sanjay’s predicament. He could never place the reason that drew him towards her. Months were spent contemplating (and debating) both alone, and among the “enlightened” souls of his Hostel.

April: 5 Months Later

Spring had arrived rather late on campus that year. But when it did, nature became a treat to watch. With exams over, like the euphoria that engulfed the whole college, the pine trees too began to flower in happiness. Couples would huddle together underneath the deodars near the Club. Freshmen played cricket by the lake that had just quenched its winter thirst, their field sprouting new grass by the day. Professors would take their families to picnics by the fall gardens uphill the road that passed by the campus.

Sanjay’s mind was however, on a tumultuous state now. All through the winter, however much he tried to avoid, thoughts of Neha would come disturb his sleep, and those stern cats that would not allow him to cross the road! Something had to be done. He had spent nights thinking of her. It was time for the confrontation. Of Love.

That following Sunday, Sanjay made it to Neha’s Hostel, fully determined that he wanted an answer from her. He tipped the pan chewing security guy to go and call Neha from her room on the 3^rd Floor. Those 2 minutes were the longest moments in Sanjay’s Life.

Neha arrived, dressed in her usual kurti and jeans. Her hair was set back in a bun and she was wearing her specs. Must have been studying- Sanjay thought. All right- I need to make this quick and get it done with. “Sanjay you said you need to see me?” She queried. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking some stuff lately. Guess I need to talk to you about it.”

“I’ve got a favour to ask from you too...”

“Why don’t you go first?” His attempts at chivalry in inopportune moments always surprised him later.

“I need you to pass something on to Rajiv. Would you do it for me?

“I guess so”

Neha produced a White Envelope. As Sanjay took it, he saw it had curled around the edges and the colour seemed to have started yellowing.

He already started dreading about its contents.

“And what was it that you wanted to see me about?”

“Um..Our Lab assessments begin next Tuesday. I thought perhaps if you would like to share your notes with me?

“Sure! I’ll just go fetch them!”

With Neha’s Purple Notebooks and White Envelope in his possession, Sanjay made his way back to his room. He began to dread every moment of that short encounter. The moment he reached the confines, he meticulously slit open the envelope and upturned it-hoping against hope that the contents were not what he thought they were. He had already felt the rose inside the moment Neha had handed him the envelope.

It did fall out;.. along with a short slip of paper.

Sanjay stared into the dead dry rose lying on the floor of his room for a long time. He did finally notice the short note Neha had addressed to Rajiv. Apparently, her family was moving away from the country the following autumn. And apparently, Rajiv had gifted Neha with this Rose a year ago, professing his love. She was returning it now as she saw no point in carrying on with the relationship anymore.

Neha’s Bluntness surprised Sanjay. But what was even more surprising was that she had cared to preserve that rose for one whole year before returning it. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for the guy. He put back the note on the envelope and promptly slid it underneath Rajiv’s Door, wondering how he would react to the whole incident. But he did not throw away the Rose. Something about the absurdity of it all; using a yearlong dead flower to end a bond stirred a deeper understanding inside of him. He put the flower between the 31^st March and 1^st April pages of his new diary...

April: Present

The loud honking of the Safari roused Sanjay from his descent into the past. He went out to the balcony, realizing it was the Office Cab downstairs.

“Boss wants you on your table in 20 minutes! Something urgent has come up!” The Driver yelled.

So, it’s time for funeralizing another Sunday. “I’ll be there in 10!” He yelled back.

A Long day at work later, Sanjay went to sleep. But he didn’t dream of any rude cats that day. He dreamt nostalgia, he dreamt sweetness, he dreamt of Neha and her home far far away...

-Palash

April 2011

Bhupen Da : Amar Bidexi Bondhu

"Akaxi Ganga Bisora Nai,

Nai bisora swarna olonkar,

Nisthur Jiwanar Xongram'ot

Bisaru moromor maat exaar.."

Over our routinely hectic breakfast set to a timer of exactly 5 minutes, someone happened to surf over the only watchable new series at DD News. The Story on Bhupen Da's worsening health really gave a jolt to my thought process today (inspite of all the forward planning going on inside). Without realizing, those 4 immortal lines from his "Akashi Ganga" conitnued to cold resonate within my soul the whole day.

Bhupen Da has been a part our lives since we don't know when. Every song, every melody of his, is so exquisitely lyrically built that one can't help pausing and contemplating on its contents. They are so full of depth, something that is so missing in the world today, with everyone seemingly married to shallowness.

Everything aside, Dr. Bhupen Hazarika is much much more than the greatest cultural icon of Assam. To me, he is synonymous to the state, our motherland. Imagining Assam without Bhupen Da is painful and difficult. I still recall those lines of his that I first learnt to mouth from my father (another great fan) : 

Meghe Gir gir kore,

Gir gir meghe kore..

Bhupen Da's songs and music run thorugh the blood of every proud Assamese. To him personally, life was a great tragedy, a constant search for true love that he never could find. But he never let that come in the way of the everlasting twinkle in his eye and a perpetually ready amusing reply to any question. A warm saturday evening on Natakachal's (the Music School in the Campus I grew up in) Silver Jubilee  comes to mind when Bhupen Da had come visiting. Incidentally he had also innaugurated the school 25 years back. To quote a line of his:

"Ajir dintute Pochis (25) Bosor agote Natakachal'or jonmo hoisil. Aji taai gaabhoru hol.."

I realize any comment on whether Bhupen Da has got his due from us would be hyprocritical on my part, but as he lies on ventilator support today at some far away hospital in Bombay, I wish and pray that he gets well soon and lives on till we are ready for the final departure. Or perhaps he is ready for ours.

Those lines from "Akashi Ganga" sound so meanigful now..




-Palash