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“’Cos for 24 years I’ve been living next door to the Communists,

Now, who the hell are these Neo-Communists?”

[Definition:  a new form of communism; revived communism that addresses current issues]

“Well, I don’t know what would reflect my mood about this unstoppable and fast  approaching political doomsday , in a better way, but this Neo-Communism      tactics has earned Mamata Banerjee quite a few brownie points in  Bengal; if not from me, but from the majority.

To me Bengal has always carried an image associated with the communists, the blood  red Marxism, ideologies and “at-the-drop-of-a-hat-call-a-strike-attitude”. We have  been taught to support strikes and think like the communists since the time, we had  our political senses.

Growing up in a joint family, and a freedom-fighter-turned leftist head of the family, I  used to wake up to the Ganashakti (the communist party newsletter) and the vintage  “Statesman”. Pretty and idle days, as I look back.  What nobody realized at that point  of time, that there was a storm brewing at the other end of the string, and Bengal  would see an insurgency of sorts and a change-no-matter-what-comes attitude by  the next decade.

Many suns have crossed the horizon, in the national political sky.

In the process, we have been forcefully acquainted with many Mamata-avatars, but the most worth-a-watch has been her latest stint as our national railway minister cum aspiring CM of Bengal. It’s hard to divert the public eye and hush the media, who had always fancied how she handles both offices in tandem. And nobody knows better than her that she has failed miserably in this aspect. The talking point here is not how she rates as a railways minister, but how one’s personal aspirations and egoism, can kill a good growth trajectory.

The two successive Bengal railways accident threw up a can of worms among the media and the masses. Issues were(blown out of proportions or not will be a debatable statement) brought to the table, fingers raised, the opposition tore open the minister. Newspapers and media flashing a grim-faced Mamata at the accident zone, dining table discussions, Pranab Mukherjee coming into the rescue act (as always), things went hazy to awry. But the sticky point is, in spite of all these Didi went on with mass state political rally this week where the same old story was repeated, the politicizing of religion, poor masses and blame games. Nothing much has changed in Bengal, with the onset of this so-called insurgency. She’s using the communist antidote to stop the communist juggernaut and the change hungry people are left with no choice but to follow our belligerent leader.

Catch the fish (the Bengal CM chair) with the bait (the railway ministry) that’s very clearly the strategy that she’s relying on, right now. She knows public memory is short and exactly the reason why it doesn’t deter her spreading the fire that the leftist lighted years ago, and sadly she using the same tools that destroyed the state.

Internet forums and news channels are abuzz with her not attending cabinet meetings, and playing truant, but I don’t know, if that should be the talking point at all. The point is she needs the delegate and stop having the megalomaniac feeling that she’s the ‘one-man-army’ I don’t know how different the political management is from the management in corporate environments, but what she needs to understand how the work that cannot be done, because of ‘whatever’ priorities, should be delegated so that no fingers are pointed at her.  Didi is keeping her priorities right. Point Taken! But that doesn’t give her the rights to play truant, play with people’s lives, and mobilize mass at some suburbs in Calcutta for the elections in early 2011.

I do appreciate the fact, that she has gone all the way, (well almost) in crumbling the red fortress, but she cannot tread this path of thorns with such make-shift mentality, neo-communist agenda, and obviously the age-old vote bank politics.

Somewhere she has to fall. It’s just that the people of Bengal are strapped of options.

Let the change come, whatever be it!

Final puff…

He quits.

Another puff…

Autumn breeze…

Damned permutations

Flunked math’s… *

Certain things in life are best left untold, the rest are displayed in G-Talk. Thinking what this line refers to? The little things in life, we do, yet everyday, for no reason. Ever since Google launched their messenger service, it’s amusing to notice how we are updating our G-Talk status messages with every moment that takes our breath away, how else can you justify as to when Sweta said, “Life is not about how many breaths you take, but how many moments take your breath away.”  And Raj replied with his own, “Since when did New York become so polluted?” Google should be considerably happy about this achievement. They have changed the way the people look at status messages.

We hardly get to see a routine one such as “Busy”, instead we beat around the bush and state, “You have the right remain silent, so please consider it” or something like “No matter how much you ping me, it will be retorted with silence” or maybe more guesses, “You don’t need to ping me, go fly a kite”.  The basic nature of human being is to go against the nature. What the n number of people does, the n+1^th guy tries to do (read: write) something different. Hence you see a Raunak stating, “I am never busy” and hereafter when you go happily pinging him –

Me: Hey dude, ‘sup? How you doing?

Raunak: Busy hoon yaar. Talk to ye later.

Me: L    

The trend that is has other advantages too. A salient message can do wonders in striking up a conversation with the opposite sex. Wondering how? Some days back, my friend put up this, – “cows aren’t only living ones, who swears by the grass” So the next obvious question is as follows –

She: Hi, interesting message…

He: J yep. Guess the other?   

She: umm… maybe a goat? Wot say?

He: neah… it’s me

She: Lolls… care to explain…

….

…….

The rest is history. He  later checked it out in the chat logs(and showed me), how the conversation became a marathon, of 869 lines My friend bragged how grass here refers to marijuana, and how they made stuff and how much they smoked and finally ending with a Saturday evening date at Barista.

Other ideas exist too. It can well be used for some commercial gains. While I was in third year in engineering, we had to book tickets 2 months prior to the date of the journey, otherwise tickets would sell off. Later, 7 days to go for the exams to end and we are ready to hop into the train, our department exams got postponed and we had to stay back. Selling a ticket was a tough task (for some reason I didn’t want to go to the station and cancel it, lazy perhaps) I put it up as my status- “1 Sleeper coach seat available for Bangalore city- Howrah, you need it, then ping me. I got a customer within 24 hours. J Interesting;      

So till here, goes the analysis of how people try being different, how people try and strike up a conversation and how people use it for financial matters. The events too take a toll on their minds. Last year, when the Bhajji- Symonds fracas came out in the public, some of them made us read something like this – “I spit on the face of the aussies” and then to quote a recent happening, of Sourav Ganguly’s retirement Arun and Partha put up – “goodbye dadaK” and “good bye dada!!!” respectively. One was more sad than excited and the other the reverse. (That’s my conclusion)  

Deb, went to Amsterdam for a client visit, and said, “Imagination is more important than knowledge” and the picture associated with, its best left untold, while other things are displayed in G-Talk.

P.S We love our status messages, and it’s just an innocent humor in uniform, one small one-liner a lunch-time inspiration. One last minute update, Deb changed his status a few minutes back, “No, more status messages please!!”  

Acknowledgement: I am ever in debt to some of my buddies, from whom I have borrowed, these whacky one liners, without prior permission, while some are original works of the author J

India looks so close from Mumbai! The first picture that comes to my mind, when I think about this city of cities, is how, people arrive at it’s doorstep, armed with virtually nothing, and carve out their long standing dreams at the heart of this city and what amazes me truly about Mumbai is that, it never fails to deliver. The potential, the indestructible spirit that Mumbai has always held and the virtually unputdownable enthusiasm that made Mumbai, what it is today, is what has always attracted me towards it. To be very honest, whatBangalore couldn’t do for me during my 4 years of graduation, Mumbai did it 4 months. I started considering it as my second home.

It has been 8 months since I had last flown over the queen’s necklace, but the picture still looms over my eyes, as it was yesterday and I feel an urge( much greater than that of a fag) to go back into the laps of the hard love that the city gave me once. When I landed into the Chhatrapati Shivaji domestic terminal I felt the city bustling and moving. An enviable melting pot of cultures, practices, religions and dreams- the economic powerhouse of modern India. I knew from day one that if there’s one city in India that can spark off your imagination sky high and fuel your ambitions, it can be this city of dreams. After spending years in the Southern parts of India, I came to know one thing, that even if North Indians graduated from sight seeing dwellers into the money making machine, they are not welcome. I was happy that Mumbai won’t make me feel as if I ventured into a foreign territory.  The discrimination that Bangalore made wouldn’t be here, or so I thought. It was true, to its every bit. But now when a Raj Thackeray comes to the forefront with a vested political agenda, and strives to break the image that I had harbored about this city, it pours fuel into the fire. What Raj is aiming is filthy street politics, bounding Mumbai in the parochial confinement.  

When we talk about Mumbai, about how different it is from other cities, we advertise the diversity that Mumbai holds up its skin. One thing I noticed about Mumbai that sets this city apart from other Indian states is, people doesn’t look for ‘matre’ or a ‘dharne’ at the end of your name, they value your work instead of your Marathi-speaking credentials. Mumbai doesn’t dwell on useless issues of provincial details. Work and result are in a perfect balance, you give your 100% and take the accolades home. This is what the Mumbai model was. And it would be interesting to quote that Maharashtra has been the only exception in the nomenclatural identity among all the other Indian States (Bengal, Gujarat, Tamil Nadu, Uttar Pradesh all focuses on the cultural or the geographic entities). This open mindedness of the unique work culture has made Mumbai what it is today, ‘The Financial capital ofIndia’. What Mamata did for Bengal, Raj is doing it for Mumbai. What he doesn’t understand, that if he succeeds with this projection of a non-existing divide between the locals and the migrated, it can bring down Mumbai to where Bengal is now. That is what happened when Jinnah projected the inequality of Hindus and Muslims.  Raj has been clever enough to encash on the sensitivity and the gullibility of ‘us’ Indians on this cultural and racial issue. He knows that this might well be the agenda that can propel him into the super league of Indian. We know it too, but still the media is giving us enough ‘crisp’ fodder to munch on at the breakfast table, and we are gulping it down. The final result – Raj will sit cozy in the political limelight after a few months only somewhere much higher up the ladder, and life will go in Mumbai, but what about the divide that he has created? Does he care enough, to come and mend it? NO! Where was his voice when the blasts ripped apart Mumbai? When thousands were stuck for days in the devastating floods last year? Only if he could filter out the Maharashtraians, and save them from their plight. Raj wont’ be noble enough to acknowledge that when the so-called outsiders are ‘taking away’ jobs, they are contributing their very own, but small part to make Mumbai the one among the greatest cities of the world, and of course his agenda to political super stardom.

Once upon a time in private news channel Ms. Shobhaa De made certain derogatory remarks on why Raj is right on his agenda. She says since Mumbai is a Maharastrian city, people who live here, should learn and speak in Marathi, she further reasons that people who stays in Bengal or Punjab speaks in their respective native languages, and nobody minds. Ms. De I would like to remind you, that to be great, to lead, you have to embrace the entire world, not shun it, not impose such logics and restrictions on people’s mind. I still remember one of my experiences in a distant Bangalore police station, when I went to lodge an FIR against a theft, the complaint was written in Kannad, and the inspector was such an imbecile that he wouldn’t translate it for me in English or Hindi. How would you feel if Mumbai starts behaving like this? Would you be so proud of your city after this, as you are now? Would you be able to boast about a future Ambani or a future Ratan Tata? Would you able to speak as highly of the Mumbai model as you do now? I don’t think so. What example would you set aside for cities like Calcutta or Ahmadabad if such things start happening? What Raj has raised in here, is an inherent feeling that is present in all Indians, don’t you think it’s wrong and unconstitutional? And you should try and nip it in the bud. People read you, and value your opinions, don’t you think that you should rise above parochial confinement and tell where Raj is wrong? Somewhere else you state that you don’t find Maharashtraians in any of the construction sites in Mumbai. I don’t think so that the construction companies have any enmity towards the locals. Or do they?  I don’t understand the logic behind your thinking is this respect. I guess you could object if they started putting up the ‘non-maharastrian’ criteria, in their recruitment process. Else not. You say that you want protests, you want street plays, and literature, people raising their voices against the Raj, but where are you? When families come from other states and never want to live, it’s not a problem Ms. De, it’s a privilege.

One last question. Ever thought of changing the name ‘Mumbai Indian’ IPL team to something less attractive?   

one says ” i love my country, i love india.
but i hate these biharis they dont have any culture..see..
then these bengalis see them…always so selfish.. thinking about themselves always,
now now, dont u dare talk to me about the south indians, they should be omitted from the map of india. these guys you see dont even recognise our national language. they dont speak in hindi.
and how dare you support the marwaris. so shrude, always grouping amonst themselves.
See how people live in america… such a beautiful place. why cant india be like this?
see microsoft, world’s largest software firm. my dream job!! oh god..
some day i would like to be like Bill Gates. my role model”

Height of patriotism. what does he love about india? perhaps even the speaker isnt very sure of the answer. he talks of brain drain. but after some 2-3 yrs even he’s a part of it. he listens to Kalam’s “vision india 2020″ and the next day he has a flight to catch to the states for his new mindblowing job. what does this particular guy like in india? how can he contribute to his country’s developement? how can india grow up with these attitudes running in their bloods. they love to see tom cruise doing unrealistic stunts in MI2, but when our country men perform the same old stunts they are not impressed. they are not wooed. when do they stop worshiping the western world. they forget their own abilities, in their rush of licking the western masses. how many of them want to become an APJ Abdul Kalam or a Ratan Tata? hardly a handful. hence india is sinking. Why this obsession with everything imported. Do we not realize that self-respect comes with self-reliance? this above guy’s answer is there’s no scope for his improvement in this country. he is getting the best of the moolah in america. he’s getting well paid for his job in the gulf. of what he exactly deserves. he says india is not going to change. the entire system is corrupt. what he will he do alone being an honest IPS officer? he will be transfered to some desolate place, or he will be murdered the next day. and he wont join politics for the same reason. fine, done. i admit that he cant do anything in this deep dark world of corruption.

ask him a question… ” do you love your country?” he will say “yes” a blattant answer. atleast do these as follows !!

1.stop pissing on the walls.
2.stop spitting on the roads.
3.stop throwing cigarette buds under your chairs so that nobody would notice.
4.clean up your pet dog’s affluent droppings on the street.
5.pay for the bus tickets when you travel.
6.dont travel ticket less in a local train.
7.stop chucking an empty coconut shell anywhere in the roads.

Even if not for the love for your country, for the sake that you are an educated person, and that when you can respect and conform to a foreign system in other countries you can also do that it in your own.

These are the first steps in loving india. if one cant do these things, how can he even pass the IPS exam? how can he ever dream of changing india? one should first teach the baby to walk then to run, otherwise he will stumble and fumble.

i would like to quote a certain paragraph of apj Kalam in this respect.

“Like lazy cowards hounded by our fears we run to America to bask in their glory and praise their system. When New York becomes insecure we run to England . When England experiences unemployment, we take the next flight out to the Gulf. When the Gulf is war struck, we demand to be rescued and brought home by the Indian government. Everybody is out to abuse and rape the country. Nobody thinks of feeding the system. Our conscience is mortgaged to money.”

Yes india does have a unity amongst all its diversities. and the sad part of the story is india is united in their obsession of the western world.

The Children of the Sky

[Inspired from the movie, "The city Of god

The smoke is overflowin’ from the trembling berretta,

As the human Gods rant and rave, of a ruthless vendetta!

Gift them a flower!

Sing them a love song!

The earth is smokin’ smudging the wet painted skies,

As the tears rebel and tender hands hold guns n’ agonies!

The man down there is bleeding; can you buy him a stairway to heaven?

As the blue bird comes and waits; can you give him his childhood once stolen?

Gift him a drop of water!

Sing him a lullaby!

The earth is smokin’ smearing the hallowed sun,

As the tender minds smoke, snort and kill, to become a man!

Has he been crying the entire night? Starving since the full moon?

Did you hand him the gun that day? Did you help him paint the skies maroon?

You gifted him a chain!

You sang him a war song!

The earth is smokin’ because you lit the fire,

As the children of the sky, wait for the summer’s ire!

The man up there is unforgiving, can you pay back for the freedom; you stole one day?

Did he sing you a lullaby? Did you ask him a drop of water?

He sang you a love song!

He gifted you a stairway to heaven!

The earth’s smokin’ because you gave him the gun,

As you lie writhing in the city of gods, a peeping sun!

]]> http://sauvik.wordpress.com/2008/07/05/the-children-of-the-sky/feed/ 0 sauvik http://sauvik.wordpress.com/2008/07/04/in-search-of-a-mother/ http://sauvik.wordpress.com/2008/07/04/in-search-of-a-mother/#comments Fri, 04 Jul 2008 08:57:42 +0000 Dream Peddler http://sauvik.wordpress.com/?p=43 ]]>

The loneliness

Rajat has been living like this since the past 2-3 months. This self proclaimed seclusion has made him more resilient and indifferent towards life, or so he thinks. At times he feels if he’s behaving alright or not? His depressing ways of leading life has made him think of changing at least for his own survival. But unknowingly he has found a way to vent out his frustration living like this. He’s learnt not to give a damn to this world and the people around him. He’s learnt not take things to heart, and just shake off the dirt of his body, if by chance he rubs shoulders with somebody. He was contemplating on taking a week long leave from office and set out somewhere, his excuse to himself was to escape to Calcutta dust and the human griminess. But the real reason was, he knew; was he was afraid to face the realities of his own life anymore. Incredible India! The advertisement in the web page read, he clicked on it, a few links here and there and few pages refreshed and he was looking at mystic Arunachal Pradesh. The lazy hills undulating caught Rajat’s fancy. He loves to travel around, it takes his mind off, makes him feel human again, amidst all this madness.

That night Sreelekha had called up Rajat. It was half past midnight. Rajat had been expecting a call but it was undesired. They used to talk late, very late, but that night everything seemed unusual. She was sobbing uncontrollably. He just listened, until Sree started speaking.

“Just tell me what you said that day was a lie. Please Rajat tell everything was a lie.” gasped Sreelekha.

Rajat still remembers the first time they had met, the first year of the medicals in the anatomy practical at the morgue. “What an incredible place to find your soul mate”, they used to joke at the fact. But everything seemed so smooth, in this relationship of theirs. The 8 year long courtship, the secret meetings, and the nostalgic walks through the rugged lanes of the college street and then there was obviously a break at the coffee house.

“You know me Sree, I have thought over it, and I have let you know my decision, don’t push me over it.”

“But, Rajat you just can’t end everything, as if you had been the only one in this relationship.”

“I have given this decision my everything, you have to accept It.” said Rajat.

“You people are fucking mad. All of you people are freaks, your mom, your dad all of them” shouted Sreelekha as she banged the phone down.

He had felt his blood boil over, but deep inside he knew that what Sree said was right, and something inside him told that Sree knew it. She knew everything. It’s not that she didn’t want to compromise but Rajat just couldn’t agree to the fact where his life would lead him to.

The bitter-sweet past

Year 1994;

That was the fateful year, when his mother’s illness was first detected…

It was a happy time for the family. The youngest member has been born to Rajat’s youngest aunt, Nilanjana. The entire family had gathered in their family home at the Dover lanes, and there was laughter all around. Every face wore a smile for that day, and it seemed like everyone’s coming up with their indigenously novel idea of naming the baby boy. Somebody suggested “Joy”. Rajat was ecstatic because he had never seen a new born before.

“You are the big bro now”, Nilanjana smiled at Rajat.

“Ol, mol, bol, pol…Oh Yea, yap…. bubu, lulu….!” Rajat replied without looking up, he’s been busy with youngest member ever since he came into the house.

“Here take him to your arms, hold him.” said Nilanjana.

“No, no he’s too fragile, you hold him, I‘ll take him once he’s a few days old. Nilanjana just gave Rajat a caring smile.

“Mashi, now you have two sons! Whom would you love more?”Joked Rajat, after everything had calmed down, and Nilanjana was rummaging through the gifts for the huggies pack.

“Two sons… umm … yea … let me see… whom would I love much? Nilanjana came near Rajat, ran her fingers through his curly hair and said, “Why? Both of them equally.” She could feel a tinge of disappointment in Rajat’s eyes. The sadness she knew was because of his mother.

“Rajat, you should consider marrying, you are already 32 and it’s high time you thought of it”, Nilanjana searched Rajat’s eyes hopefully for an approval.

“Mashi, you know, I won’t marry unless Ma tells me to!” said Rajat, and I can’t leave off my responsibilities, just for the sake of living happily, I can’t be so selfish”

Rajat had a motherless childhood. He has always felt a dearth in the bonding of every relationship since childhood, and it has increased more as he reached his adolescence and then adulthood. He has always been close to Nilanjana, since the day he learned to say, “Ma”. Rajat’s mother was kept away, from him. Rajat was her obsession. She loved him. But she loved him unnaturally. She feared that whenever anybody would come near Rajat, they would steal her son away from him. She would not let him come near Nilanjana. She loved Rajat like she possessed him, but Rajat started thinking on different lines. He started avoiding her. He wouldn’t come home after school, he would cocoon into a shell in the presence of his mother. He used to go to Nilanjana, and find a mirror of his mother. From herein started the rip in the family, in the sisters; Nilanjana was helpless, Rajat’s mother relentless. The condition went from bad to worse, Nilanjana finished college, she got married, Rajat lost a mother; his dad decided to take up a job in Dibrugarh, Assam, for the sake of keeping his mother away from him. And consequently Rajat was admitted to a hostel in Calcutta. It happened so fast, at the blink of an eye, destiny intervened. Nilanjana used to go to Rajat every weekend, her new home was close to Rajat’s hostel. She used cook him chicken, and bring home made gulab jamuns and Rajat never complained of a mother. It was always such a happy reunion of a “mother-son” that maybe even destiny feared for this relationship and never intervened. It grew in leaps and bounds, it blossomed, and Nilanjana was suddenly a mother. Rajat wondered why he can’t call her that. But he could never understand why his mother hardly visited him. He talked to him on phone; she visited him in vacations, but never stayed. He started covering his glum with dirt, time and insomnia. But he grew up, loving his mother like his aunt, and his aunt like his mother. That’s why he never understood the geometry of relationships… Maybe that’s why he didn’t understand Nilanjana too…

The Sacrifice: Mother and then Son

“But, Rajat, You know your ma’s not well, and you have a life too.” said Nilanjana.

“Why did ma get married Mashi? Didn’t you know that she was not mentally capable to go the distance? Don’t you people feel guilty for ruining 2 more lives?” blurred out Rajat all of a sudden.

Nilanjana was taken by surprise, by this sudden outburst, “No, Rajat, it’s not what you are thinking.”

“You don’t see, how Bapi has struggle with ma, his entire life, and he stays quiet, that doesn’t mean that he’s living a ‘life’…” shouted Rajat, by now he’s got up from his chair, and pacing around the room.

“Rajat, sit down,” Nilanjana tried to calm him down, “your ma’s schizophrenia wasn’t acute that time, and we had no clue whatsoever, that it can develop to such a stage. Even after marriage she didn’t have any problems in adjusting to life. It was only after your birth that she started to show signs of acute mental stress.” said Nilanjana.

Rajat was not convinced. In his childhood he had lost a mother, found the mirror of a mother in his aunt, but he has realized that he has started losing her too. But he was a child then, he ran where he found love, he was driven throughout his entire childhood, by the lack of love. Now when he sees his mother suffering silently, craving for him, it singes his heart. Nilanjana often talks about her elder sister to him. She is a great woman. How she had struggled her entire life, how she had supported her 5 siblings, working over here in Calcutta, when the entire family was in Bangladesh. How she had sacrificed her own career and became the only earning member in the family. She filled up the vacuum for an elder son aptly, yet she was neglected all the time. It’s the society, the perversion of the then politically and religiously crippled society that made a retard out his mother. In those days it was a sin for an unmarried woman to go out of the house, leave aside, staying alone in a different country and India was sacrilegious, to East Pakistan (Bangladesh) back then. But she was adamant, she had taken the responsibility, and she was sure that she would see it till the very end. She had not taken a step backward; she had not buckled under the pressure, she had a vision in her mind, and she stuck to it. These are the words that constantly hit Rajat’s conscience. A woman who has struggled like hell, shrugged aside by the society, dragged to the extreme, exploited mentally, should deserve better. If she can sacrifice her life, for her siblings, for her family, for her, responsibility, he too can for the sake his “mother”. It’s time he gave back to her, even though she’s not in a condition to recognize it, but still it’s for the sake of his love for her, his own peace of mind. After all following your heart is nothing but selfishness.

He came back early that day, to his flat. He still remembers his mother retreating into the corner of room, when she heard that he won’t be staying tonight at her place. She had pleaded him, crooned to him for staying, but he didn’t. He sat back into his chair, with a can of cold beer, contemplating on what the doctor said last week, that his mother is improving, but it’s not stable yet. The phone rang. It was Nilanjana on the other end.

“Rajat, Sree called, you didn’t call her for the last 7 days. She’s worried.” said Nilanjana.

“Silence…”

“What happened? You should give her a ring back, and yes, drop by our house tomorrow for lunch Joy was asking for his dada” added Nilanjana.

“I have been from ma’s place just now. She wanted me to stay… with her..!”

“Silence…”

“Tell Joy, I ‘ll come tomorrow.”

“May I borrow that paper of yours?” He asked Animesh, interrupting his constant stare from the corner of the eyes.

Animesh was a little taken aback by the sudden interruption but he managed quite well,” sure you may”, sounding quite authoritative.

“Me, Ajatshatru Banerjee, working class, but retired nowadays, he chuckled.

“I am Animesh, Animesh Roy, so Mr. Banerjee you going to Delhi? Or you have a connecting flight to Calcutta?”

“Oh! You are a Bengali? Nice to meet you Animesh “, without even paying any attention to Animesh’s question.

Animesh clicked his tongue in silence,” all of them have the same reaction when they find one, will these self proclaimed Bengalis never change?

“Hmm, so you have a connecting flight or you headed for Delhi?” Animesh repeated the question.

What do you think?

How should I say?

Connecting flight, yes you are right.

Ohkay!

By this time, the plane was soaring up amidst the clouds, white, misty flakes of the heavenly dews, roaming around aimlessly kissing the nose of the gigantic Air India Boeing as it surges ahead across the pacific. Animesh was thinking about the life in Calcutta, dusty smelly stinking roads, the moment he would place his feet outside the cabin the searing, dissipating heat, the air reverberating in sync with the heat emanating from the brown dusty ground, the smell of the rotten fish, the garbage dumped here and there, meandering along the narrow marauding lines of poverty stricken slums, the half-fed dogs, the crows, the tightly packed, loosely constructed shanties along the footpath, everything seemed ugly, bitter and tasteless. He felt like his once hometown had no color, other than yellow, that too mellowed.

“Missing home?”

Animesh was shocked, “voodoo or what? How did he guess?”

“A few more hours, and there again, the city of joy, the SFI’s, the maidan, homemade food, you don’t get these things in the States, you don’t get life over there, suffocating.” Ajatshatru said. “By the way after how long are you going?” Animesh’s face twitched and his eyes blinked, partially in relief, “after all he is no mind reader”, he thought.

“Yes, Mr. Banerjee, missing home”, he sighed. “—missing New York–” he thought.

“You said, you were into service, but retired now, right?” asked Animesh, desperate to shake off the disturbing pictures of Kolkata.

“Yes, son, I have retired long back, I used to be in the chief judge in Kolkata high court, place as such there was none, I had a transferable job, as result of which I had been fortunate to eat the rice of every color and caste and creed.” recalled Ajatshatru in a triumphant tone, “You don’t mind if I don’t call you by your name? You are exactly the same age as my son is.”

“No, no, why should I mind”, Animesh replied a bit confused about what to say to such a strange request. The toil and grind in America had molded him so differently that he now adheres completely to the western culture of calling names; he’s even changed his bathroom habits, unconsciously though. He still remembers how he and his brother differed in ideologies. His brother, a staunch communist and he a worshipper of western ideologies and dreamt of bigger life, unlike his brother.

“Where in Kolkata, do you stay Mr. Banerjee? North or south?

“North”

“I don’t like that side, it’s too congested”

“But, that’s where the real smell of the city is.”

“Yea, smell of rotten fish”

“Ah, that’s a delicacy, did you taste it?”

“And, the smell of pollution”

“Oh! That? They are talking of banning buses that are more than 20 years old, don’t fret over that!”

“And, the musty-smelling bazaars”

“You get good things, cheap, so never mind the smell, plus if that acts as an appetizer, believe me”

“And, dirty politics”

“Even America is not spared, and?”

“And communism and beggars and rusty old buses and stinking humidity and … wasted childhoods, great expectations from a city that’s inevitably a vacuum and there are toiling laborers, and dusty skies, even the moon looks ugly nowadays …

…

…. …

… … … don’t mind if I am rude!!” Animesh heaved.

“I see, you have great affection for your city, good to know!” Ajatshatru smiled.

A steely silence waved over the two, Animesh broke it “so, you stay with son in New York?”

Yes, you can put it that way; at least he does it that way” Ajatshatru said.

“I didn’t get it” What do you mean by ‘that’ way?”

“Never mind”

“Is this your routine tour of India? I will back by the next week, but I won’t be alone. You are coming back on?”

“You’re marrying?”

“Neah, I am already! My ma will be coming.

“Your parents are there in Kolkata?”

“Only my ma, father died 5 years back.”

Oh! Am sorry! Then you should have brought her here long back.”

“Ma used to stay with my brother, but he got married, there have been loads of problems, and brother shifted her to a nearby old home. But recently there have been some problems with the good-for-nothing management group of that home.” rued Animesh.

Is that so? Why what’s wrong?

“I don’t know Mr. Banerjee, don’t ask me. I got this letter from my brother last month, that the old home closing down due to lack of funds and he couldn’t afford to bear ma’s medical expenses, and …

… And you volunteered to fly to your ma and keep her near to you? She must be a very fortunate person to have a son like you, I am sure.” Ajatshatru completed the sentence for Animesh, a sense of great satisfaction and lament appeared on his creased face.

Animesh searched for the tone of sarcasm I it, but there was none, he cleared his throat and proceeded,” yes, that is the thing, but you know America is an expensive country and the dad’s pension that ma gets was never enough, however, we were planning to divide up all properties that father left in ma’s name and conjure up the expenses. Let’s see, the talks are still on, anyways, its family matters”

But Ajatshatru wasn’t listening, the last sentence distracted him, “the property… the inheritance… the divide… the greed…” He cleared his throat and poked Animesh, no, it’s not that I don’t have interests, I told you, I had spent 40 years of my life in these legal matters.”

Oh! Yes, I forgot! Animesh said almost apologetically. And my legal advisor says that there are ways that I can remove my brother completely from this inheritance race.

“Hmm” hummed Ajatshatru.” Where did you say you stayed?”

“Ha-ha! I never told you anything about that Mr. Banerjee, it’s an old trick, I stay in Ballygunge, but why do you ask?

Just like that, no reason, and what’s the name of the old home that your ma had been in?

“Umm… some Bonolata Devi Old-Age Home, I don’t understand why the govt. would even grant them permission if they can’t show enough resources, to maintain and run the organization” He suddenly felt very tired, the already blatant world just suddenly seemed more naked to him. Man’s ugly necessities of life loomed over him like cannibals in a desolate, lonely island, dancing for the death, for the greed, the shrill thundering sound of the Boeing pierced his ears. All his life he had seen this, been in the legal section he has never been spared from man’s utter covetousness, total materialism. He has always despised these and somehow he killed the pest without touching it or making his hands dirty. He removed his red Gucci glasses; they seemed too heavy for him and excused himself from Animesh. Went to the washroom, sprayed water over his face, came back and just sat there in his seat with eyes closed thinking nothing.

He sat like that for hours, ordered a light veg. lunch and ate in silence.

“Mr. Banerjee is everything okay with you? You look pretty exhausted, maybe this long journey!”

“How many minutes to land?”

“5-10 minutes, we have reached”, informed Animesh

“Hmm, you wanted to know when I am flying back to America. Right? ”Yea, if you don’t mind”, muttered Animesh. “Well… then listen, I didn’t give any of my 2 crore property to that idiot of mine and his wife, they don’t deserve it. I made my will, in which the entire property have to be handed over to a charitable trust. And when my son came to know about this decision of mine, I am here flying back to India, Kolkata, shyambazaar, north Kolkata you know, the place you hate so much, am going to breathe over there, and …

[Mr. Banerjee’s voice was drowned in the ear splitting sound of the touchdown of the flight AI604]

The flight has landed, passengers shifting here and there, voices, commotion, the air hostess preparing for the final adieu to all on board passengers and outside a scorching misty heat wave awaited Animesh Roy.

“You want to know the name of the charitable trust, Animesh?”

Animesh fumbled.

“It’s the same that went out of funds and was supposed to close, but don’t worry, it won’t close down now, you can have second thoughts about your company in the return flight” snapped Ajatshatru Banerjee.

Animesh was the last passenger to move out of the cabin, he walked away motionlessly.