Rains and Me

She became very arrogant and demanding all of a sudden. I almost felt the hard gust of wind with water and dust slap me hard in my face asking me to stay indoors. But then I am not the obedient child of hers anymore.

 I jumped in to the cab shocking the driver. “Cholun Dada”, read lets go, I told him only to realize that nothing was visible from the driver’s seat except the often lightnings in the sky hazed by the storm and heavy rains. The street lights gone out and the traffic moved very very slow. Lucky me not to be at Bantala right now, I thought.

The cab driver regained himself from the shock, thinking as if he couldn't believe me daring to come out of the office building in such weather. “madam, berolen kano ekhon?”, read why did u come out now.

The storm resided 30 minutes later and we started moving. People have come out of the Shed now and are waiting impatiently for the public transport to be home as early as possible. Most of them drenched, with tensed expression in their faces.

The thundering continued with mild shower. It was a very usual rainy evening, the darkness and the rains didn’t seem to sadden me anymore. I enjoyed it. We are becoming friends now , aren't we?

A week by Myself..

The husky voice of Adele fills the room, "never mind I'll find someone like you". I pause and look around. The sky looks lovely with clouds creating beautiful patterns reflecting the light of  the sun setting in the  west. A gentle gust of wind enters in. The apartment is not in its perfect shape since past few days as my mom and dad are out in the southern part of the country handing over the sole responsibility of  Flat #5B, Block B to me. And I have left no stones unturned personalizing it. The line of empty water bottle on the dresser, the used cups of coffee on the table.. The glasses, books, pillows, laptop, tangled cables of adapters, the empty packet of munchies all in perfect harmony on my bed. I ignore the disturbing vision of the pile of clothes on the chair , as if frowning at me, asking to be picked up.

 I get up to light the incense sticks. My mother has been reminding me everyday during her calls not to forget watering the Tulsi plant and light the incense sticks at the dawn and dusk(if I am at home). Well dawn for me has been postponed to around 11:30AM in the morning. Recently she had frowned at me seeing a bunch of coriander plants growing  from her priced Tulsi pot! Yes, I was curious to know whether the coriander seeds we get from the market do actually turn up into a herb.

But I was able to convince her with  "It must be the birds, maa!!", and she had replied "Oh, don't pluck them off then, it must be a sign". She often tells this dialogue, and as a child I used to believe it , wondering what these signs ever meant.

The incense sticks fills the rooms with its soothing scent which reminded me of her even more. I think whenever I will start a family of my own, wherever it may be,  I shall always light incense sticks to remind me of my roots.

 I look across the window and see a man, dressed in white, wearing a white skull cap entering the cemetry. He kneels down beside a grave. Somehow I am able to feel his pain of missing a loved one.

I call up my parents and end up answering my father whether I lock the doors properly and my daily diet to my mother, thanking almighty that I have my loved ones a phone call away atleast  and that they will be back in a few days.

The man is slowly walking away now, head bent.

Welcome 2013!!

In the blink of an eye we all shall be in 2013! A year that sped so fast, leaving trails of memories behind. Some will fade away with time, some will moving along with us as we move on. 

As I look back and start counting the personal losses and gains, I realize that 2012 had been the most unexpected and memorable year for me. It has managed to transform me into a completely different and new wiser me. A year full of self realizations, misunderstandings, highs and lows, growing expectations and broken hearts, meeting new people and people fading away from the list of social networking sites.  

In spite of all the uncertainties and loosing hopes 2012 has managed to surprise me towards the end and making me hope full and eager as before for 2013. 

So as I look forward to 2013 and un-wrap all the surprises that it has in its fold, I take this chance to wish all of you a very very happy new year 2013. Wish you all good health and luck in the coming year!

 

Cheers!!!

Trijeeta.

When Time Stops

I found my old diary while shifting my house. I had nearly forgotten about it until the time I found it again while packing. In the hurriedness of shifting I forgot it once again and re-discovered it while unpacking. Out of guilt I decided to give it a permanent place among my story books so that it is always there in the vicinity of my eyes. And one a leisurely afternoon I decided to give it a much awaited read. The cover had the year embossed on it … “1999”…

It was my first attempt to pen down my thoughts when I was in class ten, being inspired by the Autobiography of Pricess Jahanara, the book which I borrowed from School Library. The first diary note describes my inspiration and how awestruck I was reading the life of a princess which was not as glamorous as I had expected it to be. Sad that I hadn’t mentioned the date of the note. So, thats how it started...

The diary covers my life from class X to the first year of college. When my only Ambition in life was to score good marks….Tension meant the Chemistry exams….Only treasures being the friendship bands .... Love meant glue-ing pictures of Aamir khan in between the pages of the diary…..the greatest fear being performing on stage…..taking a break meant quarreling with my sister over a trifle pencil box or reading a comic hidden in the course book……Rebel meant slapping boys on their slapstick remarks…

I had even kept the snippets of songs written on the paper that helped me during the numerous Independence Days, Gandhi Jayantis and Republic days on stage. O’ how each paper wrinkled and yellowed with time took me back to the time when I had actually written them.  I also remembered reciting poems or prose in class, and how my then best friend Debashree took the responsibility of prompting me in between the lines when I forgot. Though I never ever looked at her during my recitation, to avoid the series of non-stop laughing without a reason publicly. The class teacher had even changed our seats to the opposite corners of the class, but with least success.

I found a lot of sketches of mine too dated back to 2000 when did  small quick sketches when I had to pretend that I was studying hard at home or school.  A sketch of “Prospero and Ariel”, from the cover of my course book  The Tempest, by Shapespeare , Or the “Backyard” where I often sat during sunny winter mornings.

Class XI and XII, new school and new friends…my first ever bench partner, So-mad-rita Das( in DNS we sat in single chairs)… being the permanent last bencher for the first time and loving it….sleeping in Chemistry and English classes….understating nothing of physics being taught… the pranks we played in class…. I had penned down all.....

Then my first step into the college, away from my parents..a whole new world with so many different people from different parts of the country.

Please take me back in time. The golden years of my life… I want to re-live the innocence and simplicity again.

Trijeeta.

11/11/2012.

I just realized that….

·         Falling in love is as similar to falling out of love…you can feel every bit of it.

·         The people who have not met me and are receiving my work emails often perceive of me as a 40+ arrogant woman. :P

·         The charm and the charisma lasts only for about 15 minutes of the first meeting…

·         You cannot make someone fall in love for you. Just be the person who can be loved….

·         I still blush seeing Aamir khan on screen..

·         It was my newly bought Tee from Shopper’s stop when the splash of paint fell on it.. L while painting a piece of old furniture..

·         Mother’s love is equal for all her children…just like I love all my paintings in spite of all the visible imperfections.

·         Just because two people don’t argue…doesn’t mean they love/like each other and the vice-versa..

·         No matter how painful the goodbye is ….change is always welcome…

·         When I am expected to do the most boring things in the world…i end up writing blogs like this…

PAGLU-2

After a long tiring day at work I plunged into the cab with one of my colleagues who happen to share the same cab drop that day. Exhausted by the long Mid year goals discussion with my supervisor, I slammed the door of the ambassador and sighed. It was late and the weather looked promising enough to give us a tough time along the 1 hour journey especially the first 30minutes.

We started our usual frustrated conversation cursing the person whose idea was to build a office at this remote location, the government of neglecting the roads and accidents in Basanti Highway, the client for not enough onsite opportunities, even the cab driver  for being late and making us wait. Just then it started pouring and we cursed out luck too.

We saw the cab driver rush from one of the small “Jhoops”, a small hut type tea stall, stuffing a Bapuji Cake in his mouth. The mobile phone battery was running low and I thought it would not be a good idea to turn on the Radio.

 "Cholo , salt lake hoye laketown”, Lake town Via Salt lake, I purposely try to sound restless and irritated by his punctuality.

“Dada, garite gaan ache?”, can you play some songs, I Ask him. Just then I looked closely at him. A skinny boy,  appeared not more than 18. He wore a red Tee with black collars with – PAGLU written in neon at his back. I wondered if he had a valid driving license.

“Naa”, he replied back regretfully.

“Jai hok”, whatever, I sighed and start the conversation with my colleague about the poor lighting condition on the roads. It had started pouring heavily by then, making it very difficult to drive.

We were progressing at a mere speed of 20km/hour along a road lined by tall trees and dense bushes.

We were crossing the local village market when he suddenly stopped the car and got down hurriedly. Not a single human being was to be spotted around. Almost all the shops had their shutter down. The heavy rains had made the visibility very poor to spot the boy’s whereabouts. Both of us were equally tensed and I literally freaked out ten minutes after the boy vanished. I was just about to call the office transport desk for help when he appeared....Drenched…with a CD in his hand!

 “CD chilo na Sir”, he said while inserting the CD. Our jaws drop, but we were really touched by the gesture.

The first song starts. Some peppy romantic Bengali song which I have not heard before.

“Ki gaan eta?”, which song is this, I ask my colleague.

“AWARA, recent movie ta”, he answered confidently. “Never heard before?”
Suddenly the driver turned back and said, “Na na, eta PAGLUr gaan, Dev ache..”
“Ki??”
“Haa ami to onekbar dekhechi, hall  e…PAGLU-2 o berochhe.. ”
We are quite amused by the response and continue the conversation with the self proclaimed Dev-fan..

 He eagerly tells us that his favorite actor is Dev, but he likes watching Jeet’s films too. He doesn’t like Koyel being paired with Dev and that he has promised to take his wife to watch PAGLU-2!

What! Is he married!! Anyways…

 My colleague starts enquiring him about how long he has been in this profession etc etc.

What seemed to be a boring journey after the long boring day at work, turned out to be a small adda drive, in the backdrop of the heavy rains and Dev hits.

Both of us equally refreshed and re-charged as we reach our respective drop points.

“Good night Madam..”

"Good night…Pore dekha hole bolo PAGLU-2 kemon laglo..”

He blushed, as he sped by.

 

 

Weekends

 With still half open eyes I check my cell phone. Saturday, 8AM….Disappointedly I check my sms inbox and Facebook updates to recall any special engagements and shopping–appointments for the day. None…

I open my eyes harder and look around and see my sister hurrying and getting dressed for office.

“Toder bank e Saturday chhuti dey na kano bol to?”. Why doesn’t your bank have holidays in Saturday?

“Jatey toder moton IT r lokera aste pare”, So that people like you can visit it during their holidays.  She replied with a grin while searching her uniform tie from a pile of clothes.

Pffff…why did I get up so early….

I got up and went to the living room…my father is going through the headlines of the freshly arrived newspaper and my mother is busy arranging god-knows-what in the room. Both seemed equally surprised to see me. I ignored their looks and sat down looking at the empty tea cups.

 “Jol Kheyechis??”, had water?. Baba broke the silence.
Maa facing a serious competition too joined, “Sokale utechis to Yoga ta koris tahole?”, So that you have woken up early, you have time to do some Yoga.
 I felt it was safe then to escape from their vicinity.

About half an hour later I am back to the living room area with my freshly prepared tea and Marie biscuit. Maa is busy explaining the latest Suicide story from the newspaper to our help who is listening spell bounded sitting on the floor, floor mop in her hand. Baba must have gone to the nearby Bazaar.

“Ki khabi?”, what will you eat , Maa asked not even taking her eyes off the newspaper.

I pause a bit before replying wondering what are my options. “Ki ache?”
 “kalker rater torkari but ruti ta sokalei korechi”, the leftover curry and freshly prepared rotis, Maa replied making it sound like as if she has ordered something from Rahmania.
 She has emerged as a master in re-cycling all the leftover foods over 29 years of home-making.

I go back to my room and open my laptop. Hello Mr. Ratan Tata or whoever the responsible person may be, can you please change the start up page of tata-photon-plus of yahoo news. I am least interested in the wardrobe malfunctions of the celebrities and the food that would help me look younger.  Anyways, may be I should google myself to find it out.

My father has returned and peeps into my room.

“ki re jol kheyechis?”, Did you have water?
There must be some special relation between Baba and Water in his last birth, maybe he was Bisleri owner or something …but for now it gets on my nerves at times. I nod my head to respond without looking up.
“Kire serious kichu?”, anything serious, asks  Baba. The fact that he thinks I am always doing official work whenever I am with my laptop.
“Naa”.
“Naa???” , he asks again not convinced by my ans.
Arrghhh… :-/

Maa emerges out of nowhere, smelling some conspiracy between the father-daughter.

“Dekhna kichu elo kina”, check if something has come up. Obviously she is referring to the BM requests.
“Naa asheni”, Nothing yet.
“Areey dekh na ekbar”..
“Ufff, Maa!!”

My cell phone rings and I give them a can-I-get-some-Privacy look. Uknown number, must be bank or unicef….. :-/

“Hello, its me from the gym”

“Oh Hi!”
“The aerobics class which was cancelled has been re-scheduled at 1PM”
“Oh Great”
“Sorry for notifying in such a short notice.”
“Oh no problem at all…”

Wah!! Excited me get up and starting sorting my newly bought Tees that would hopefully give Miss Branded and Miss Wanna-be-model  some competition.

 My cell phone beeps just as I was about to step out of home. A Text message from a close friend.  

“Shopping and a long drive after that??”. My friend had bought a new car and has showed a middle finger to all those who thought girls can’t drive.

“Wow! Sounds like a plan.. at 4pm sharp”, I text back

 I luvvveeee my weekends!!

 

Random Scribbles

I am having restless sleep past couple of days. I end up waking in the night several times to check the updates on Facebook and my emails. I don’t know what am I looking for or to put it more correctly, whom.

But this feeling of uncertainty is surely taking a toll on my mind and inner peace.  Lately I have been trying to try a lot of new things which I had never ever dreamed of. I liked most of them and wondered why I didn’t try them before. Like , my hand at cooking…. or cross stitch…. Or reading Paulo Coelho which I dreaded ever since I read first few pages of the Alchemist.

Earlier my mind was always pre-occupied with some goals that I had set for my life and I was always busy planning how to achieve them. But now, it’s like a blank blackboard, dying to get scribbled.

On the outside I may portray a fake image of mine who is very independent, courageous, brave enough to fight back anything that comes up in life but I know from within I am as insecure as scared as any one of you. I seek happiness in company. And the more I try to run away from it the more it has begun to haunt me. I try to lead my life exactly as is expected out of me by my parents and the society but from within there is a nomad in me who wants to escape.

TaalGaach (The Palm Tree)

Now the next person of Group A to come on stage and recite her poem is Trijeeta. I felt suddenly as if somebody had awaken me from a deep sleep. I tightly gripped my father’s arms in fear. I want to run away but don’t feel my legs anymore. Baba slowly patted my arms and took me to the steps that lead to the stage.

I was hardly 4 or 5. It was my first participation in the recitation competition held in our township on the eve of Rabindra Jayanti. My over-enthusiastic Maa had been toiling for days helping me memorize the poem with the expressions and hand movements every now and then. I had no prior experience of reciting any poem apart from the Nursery Rhymes and had always let my mother down when anybody asked me to recite any one of them.

I climb the steps and stop at the corner of the stage. Uncle lead me to the centre of the stage and made me stand in front of the mike facing the audience. Uncle, as everyone called him was the pricipal of the nursery school I went to and the organizer of that event.
Someone from nowhere came running and adjusted the mike for my height.

My hands froze, my throat dried, my voice choked looking at the audience. The panel of judges wearing heavy glasses sat behind the white-clothed tables in the first row. The children and the participants sat just behind. The parents and the rest of the audience sat behind them. All the eyes fixed on me.
 I try looking for Baba among them. I saw him standing with eyes full of support, exactly at the place where he had left me. I look at him with shy full tears in my eyes and he looked at me with eyes full of reassurance and comfort.

I could hear Uncle prompting me to start.

“Nomoshkar…Kobiguru Robindranath er TaalGachh…” My voice echoed around the auditorium and scared me even more. I gulped in my saliva in order to clear my throat and took a deep breath.

“Taal gach ek paye dariye….sob gach chariye…uki mare akashe”, as taught I look up as if to visualize a distant sky above. I notice lots of mikes hanging above at the different levels all across the edge of the stage. The Disco ball which looked so pretty from far looked giant and scary above.

I close my eyes and try to concentrate.
“Mone sadh kalo megh fure jay…ekebare ure jay….kotha pabe pakha se..
Taito se thik tar mathate…goal goal patate…eccheti mele tar
Mone mone vabe bujhi dana ei…ure jete mana nei…basakhani fele tar…”

While my mother was teaching me this poem, I had asked her why the Taalgach had to stand all day long only on one leg. She said it had only one leg. I had sympathized the Taalgach and had even tried to stand on one leg.

Ohh! Uncle is prompting me again. I had stopped reciting. What are the next lines? I helplessly look at him and then guiltily at the judges. Uncle comes to my rescue prompting me the next lines.

“Saradin jhor-jhor …thor-thor….kanpe pata pottor….ure jeno jabe o…
Mone mone akashete beriye…tarader eriye…jeno kotha jabe o…”

I had seen my classmates getting punished and asked to stand on one leg infront of the pricipal’s office. They were not allowed to play during the games period. What did the Taalgach do? Did he not do his homework , was late or had forgot to bring his books to school?

“Tarpore hawa jei neme jay…pata kanpa theme jay…fere tar monti…
Jei bhabe Ma je hoy mati tar…bhalo lage aarbar…prithibir konti…

Dhanyabad”.

I ended exactly how my mother taught me bowing in front folding my arms together. I walked to the end of the stage and ran as fast as I could down the stairs, diving straight into Baba’s arms, hiding my face in his shoulders out of embarrassment, guilt and insecurity. I knew I had forgotten my lines and all the expressions in between.

Baba, usually a man of few words, patted my back and caressed my hair and said, “Bhalo hoyeche..”

PS: For the people who don't understand Bengali, please excuse me. I have dared not to translate the poem by RabindraNath Tagore.

5 years of so called professionalism

Its been 5 years. Yes 5 long years.

The journey started on 02^nd July 2007 and still goes on.  Sure there were ups and downs, highs and lows but I really miss those initial days..

Me sleeping in the boring ABAP training…(Yes !! On the first row!! Right beside Sweta whole noted down every single word uttered by the trainer.. :P)

Scoring awful in the tests..(No wonder they put me in XI from ABAP.. :D :D)

Bunking office to go to RDB,

The regular walks and jhalmuri in the evening exploring Sec-V..

Sharing the lunch..( I eyed the lunch boxes of Rakhi, Ritu and Manisha..:P :P)

Free ka cold-drinks and milk.. :D :D (Ahh!! that’s a secret not to be revealed)

Posing in front of other people’s car and uploading it in Orkut.. hehe…(Most of them have their won cars now)

The frustrating months in bench..(Though I enjoyed the most.. :-) )

The morning coffee at the lounge which usually lasted till lunch.. (was in bench yaar.. :P)

The Recession…

The regular visits to the Resource Manager’s cubicle..

Walking with my cv in hand around Sec-V in search of a job with Ritu..(I was pretty scared of a lay-off .)

Teasing Subhajit about his wife, then his girfriend..(:D :D I don’t miss it now… we are again in the same company!!)

The drooling over onsite pics of some colleagues… (tch..tch)

The over –emotional Anurupa..

My  no-carb and no-oil diets..(it worked though)

Our non-stop photo shoots at every possible location in the office premises.. :P :P

Arijit’s marriage..(not to forget his special gift.. :D :D)

The birthday treats…

F1.... (well... :D :D)

Shopping Spree with Rakhi Bose..

Our first picnic together…

Our Jashn(annual party night) plannings…(Remember Rakhi…we were so busy shopping for Jashn that we almost forgot to go there!!)

The pranks I played in office... (Sankar my usual bakra...lol)

Aww!! I miss it all!! It’s been a memorable journey…

Who said no one is your friend in professional life? I got my friends for life here.

Though times have changed and we are spread all over the world at present..and meet only in Facebook…yet the same bond prevails… the same feeling of togetherness…

ONLY IF...

You could stay a little longer…

I had the courage to make a different choice….

I could see a happy reflection of mine in the mirror again…

My memories could let me sleep ….

I could trust you again…..

My  eyes stop looking for you everywhere….

These rains didn’t make me restless…

My mother had some more faith in me…

My sister shared everything with me as before….

The exams of life had some syllabus like in school…

All the stories ended with “And they live happily ever after”….

ONLY IF...

SMILES....

You turn on the radio to find out your favorite song is being played by the RJ….

On a Sunday morning you are awaken by the smell of Luchis being fried by your mom in the kitchen….

On an already crowded elevator someone enters wearing your favorite cologne….

A Facebook “Like” on your random post by someone whom you secretly gave your heart out..

Your Gym crush comes on your adjacent treadmill to workout….

You get up on your birthday morning to find your Facebook page flooded with best wishes….

A old friend tags you in an old school group pic....

Watching your an year old nephew take his first toddler steps….

Returning on a taxi cab alone after an evening well spent with your best buddies…

Crossing your favorite hangout joint with your old-buddies on the way to somewhere…

I secretly SMILE my way!!

Feeling Blue

The little drops of rain on my window pane are making me restless. Monsoon has just arrived in Kolkata and the weather has become utterly romantic. The cool breeze on my face is becoming torturous. They are reminding me of someone…My heart is pounding fast…On my way to everywhere my eyes search someone... My mind races back to the last monsoon…When everything was fine…when the world seemed a beautiful place to live in…When my only ambition in life was to get married and raise children….

People say “Always listen to your heart”. As a child I have been following it. But what to do when my heart says nothing? Even my mind has no answer.

Do not talk to Strangers....

As a child my mother used to very often tell me while goin out of the house, "Do not talk to strangers"...

How many strangers do we meet in every day life...and how many leave a lifetime mark in our lives....and how many do we forget in the very next moment.

But have you at any time been into any situation where you had no other option than trusting a Stranger?

Scene1:
My very first day at Bangalore. I was on a business visit to meet some clients and I was put up at a guest house arranged by my company which was near to my office. I had to reach my office on my own.
I gathered all the necessary directions from the caretaker of the guest house as how to reach office but the moment I stepped out of the complex gate I was lost.
And there I was bargaining with the auto-wala. "60 Rs for just 3 kms!!". "Yes Madam, the front gate is closed. I will have to take you to the different route."
Suddenly I heard a car honking behind and someone calling. A middle aged woman in a car. 
"Hello!! Excuse me!! Where do you want to go?"
"Oh! Hi! I want to go to the Manyata Embassy Business Park."
"New to the city?"
"Oh Yes! I am here only for a week."
I looked closely. There was a young girl and an elderly woman in the car too. Probaly her daughther and mother-in-law.
"Please come in. I am going in the same direction. I shall drop you."
Hesitated...Embarrased....Helpless...I plunge in.
The lady was so helpful, she not only dropped me at my office but also taught me how to go to office without letting the auto-walas cut a hole in my pocket.
I will so ever be grateful to her. I was too shy to ask her name. Just thanked her and got down from the car. Never ever saw her again for the rest of the days of the stay in Bangalore.

Scene2:
Me sitting at the waiting lounge at the Kolkata International Aiport. Waiting to board my first ever international flight to Dubai, where I had to halt for 8 hrs for my connecting flight to Amsterdam.
Phew!! The journey seemed too long too travel alone. I was hell scared. The only smile on my face was when I was receiving text messages from my friends to stop worrying.

A Man(lets call him Mr. X) in his early thirties was sitting just opposite to me, reading a Jeffery Archer book. He was so engrossed that his flight tickets fell off from within the pages of his book without him realizing it. I picked up his tickets and handed over to him. He gave a thankful smile. Soon our flight was announced and I completely forgot about this man.

After arriving at Dubai. I was completely lost. Such a huge airport. So many unknown faces from all over the world. The airlines company had arranged a hotel for me for the 8hrs halt at Dubai. I had to reach the airlines counter where they would arrange a bus for me to take me to the hotel.

I wander for about half an hour asking every 3rd person that i met to find my way to the security and immigration counter without any success. I became so stressed as I was lost that I could feel my eyes moisten.
And then suddenly in the crowd i see Mr. X!! I was so happy to see him as if I had met a long lost relative of mine and couldnt help smiling at him!
He comes up to me and say "Bangali?" means "Are you a Bengali?". Oh My God!! I couldnt ask for more! He guided me through the whole process of immigartion and security check. He told he was also in the same organization where I worked. He was going to Coepenhagen and our connecting flights was around the same time. We went to the same hotel and in the mean time met many Indians going to Amsterdam.
The final time we said goodbye to each other. I wanted to ask his name but "I donot talk to Strangers."