Saturday, January 16, 2010
I was feeling quite happy that even after being quite out of touch with the public transport in good ol' Calcutta, I had managed to grab a seat. And then came the fated phone call. Now if one has taken a ride on a Calcutta bus, one must have noticed that something as personal as a phone call does not remain all that personal anymore. From the very first ring to the awkward (for the unfortunate listeners in this case) end to that conversation (as is the case here) the whole process is a public affair. The conversation is carried out in a voice quite above normal, blame the traffic and the external noise as well as the person on the other side. Now it is the responsibility of the co-passengers to maintain one's dignity and at least pretend to not overhear or not overhear at all. Yours truly, being quite out of practice with the art couldn't help overhearing - though in my defense I was sitting next to the this person - and the words that shot into my ear were like missiles shooting out and splintering in every possible direction.
When the person in question got off at a nearby stop I wondered, is it the passage of time, or the weather, or the geographical location, or was it I simply lacked the power of observation and "overhearing"... or is it a natural course that a relationship runs through?
Anyway, I have done too much of pondering on this issue over the last two posts. I will rest my case and let the rightful figure it out.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
In the last few months I have experienced what it feels like to be “falling” and then “in” love – the smile that cannot under any circumstances be wiped off the face, the whole drill of missing even when there is really nothing much to miss, the sentences begun and then left incomplete, the whispered phone calls till late at night – the winter serving as the best excuse to pull the blanket over the head – though I wonder what happens in the summers, the whole wardrobe overhaul, the mirror becoming the best friend, finding everything beautiful, the complete (blissful?) ignorance of the depleting bank balance, unearthing beauty in the strangest of things – things you never remotely thought would come under your radar, the tensed calls from home, the explaining that you never wanted to be a part of, the whole experience of digging one’s own grave by making the mistake of opening your mouth more than necessary (yeah I know it’s a little corny! ; D), the long conversations over “assignments”, the walks in the midnight, the whole experience of the moment when the rest of the world suddenly vanishes into oblivion when you both are there together, the extended meals, the wait…
God is there ever an end to it?!
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Some things are indeed best left unchanged...
Sunday, January 3, 2010
And the New Year arrived – for some with all the pomp and hype, and for some with a whimper. Spending the New Year’s Eve away from home I thought to make the most of it and indulge in all the hoopla that I have missed out on all these years. Plans were discussed, schedules were set, and arrangements were made. The result was – a small group of close friends, a bonfire on the terrace and a moderate amount of booze. The perfect combination for a perfect beginning to a (as I already know) less than perfect year that is to unfold. But there is a reason why I am known to be jinxed. Even while the plan was on and rolling, the clock struck 12 and all we had were two friends waiting for the rest to come, more importantly for the “parcel” to come, and all the while doing what? – knitting!
Two hours later – the “parcel” never came neither did the carriers of the parcel. The close knit friends finally made it after being stranded on the road on 31st night – but an hour late. Phone calls to family failed as the network got jammed and then later it became too late to call home – unless I wanted to start off a false alarm. Two glasses of homemade wine is all we had between six of us – not to mention that my share was robbed off by bullying juniors.
The bonfire happened and so did the waking up of the ‘good Brahmin’ neighbourhood while we scavenged for fuel for the bonfire. We did of course have five months of old newspaper and two cans of deo. An hour and half into ‘having’ the bonfire - the unanimous conclusion was none of us will ever survive in a jungle. We may call the city a jungle but the very first day the year reminded us once again that we are very a part of that ‘jungle’.
Happy New Year, folks!