Didi Turns Hot..........

Well  Mamma----------didi turns hot yet again.
This time Dinesh dadu, felt the heat...The "good boy" of grassy party got high on rail, and the result was--- well the things got uncomfortable.

A mature democracy needs a strong law.Wake up didi, its time to hike the train fares, otherwise Indian railways will be renamed " AIR INDIA" , burping and farting with hiccups for company!!!!
Popularistic measures are for people who suffer from low self esteem, they have to please one and all but I guess chucking rail way minister was stretching the elastic far too much. It will snap and I shudder to think of the day, when didi would withdraw support from the UPA and we have to face one more elections.... Come on ya, not again. Standing in the afternoon sun in the long queue to cast vote because some body took a fancy for a dumb ass " Mukul Roy" , not done!!!!

So its better for our spinster didi, to take a break and jig to chammak challo and cool her heels at the swiss alps  or Darjeeling( she promised remember, Darjeeling to be transformed into Swizerland)

What say guys???

UP elections ,Bhang and Dhoka.....

The "son" rose  in UP . The englissss hating, compooooooter bashing , gun trotting days are back again.Yippeee!!!

The other son  gave that Tusshar Kappor look and strutted his stuff . Con-gress being unfairly blamed for being the opposite of PRO-gress , after all  Ra-hul baba could not be blamed!!! PROS n CONS are the two facets of coin ( only the coin is counterfeited it has only one CON-FACE printed, ISI at work I tell you). Mama Mia of our baba took to severe depression with daddu Digvijay Singh for company .

 Renuka Chaudhury like the ever pampered aunty was elated as they did better than the last time increasing their seats by a whopping 6 (from 22), which was as impressive as Mamma had engaged   private tutors of Pranab uncle, Dr.Singh sir . Junior baby , came home with his report card saying “Mom, half-yearly I got 2 out of 100 and this time I got 8″. What was more telling than this!!!! Only our vedeshi--mamma got pizza ka paratha and gelato  ka halwa for kiddo baba.

Are jane se pehle ( as mithun da would say) ek choti si baat , only if our nationalistic party gives up that " char baj gaye hain party abhi  baki hain" types attitude . Get some genuine, hardworking ,grass root ( I do not mean LSD , marijuana and other Grassy stuffs that babalogs have) whom the  mango people(aam janta) could connect with.The janta janardan and the women population is very much like the Blue-tooth connections. They check up with all the networks but get connected with the strongest ones!!! So for all the babas , babys , confused Jinnah admirers , rath commuters, temple lovers et all , get decentralized. Get a leader with problem identification and decision making ability at the state level as puppet play and strings pulling is so passe, wake up madamji!!!


India shining ? Absolutely with a  team of 1.22 billion( and still counting) high school children, high on testosterone, under the stewardship of a hot games teacher way past her prime,with each stereotype of the school sports team finding representation—-the handsome (RA-hul baba), once-handsome (Digvijay) uncle, the corpulent (Renuka Aunty), the chikna (Pranab babumoshai ), the talentless-who-owes-his-place-in-team-to-friend -philosopher come-guide--(Dr. Singhji) and the utterly pyscho (Chidambaram).

After all these serious discussions I really need to pacify my utterly sensitive nerves, must gulp  down some  bhanng as Shivji's prasad, divine intervention is the call of the day!!! Hey , team India are you with me?

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HOLI---Colour me Red...

Holi is round the corner.

Last time I played with colours  if I can recollect, was eons ago.Time was indulgent enough for me to love the colour red.Air crisp  with youthful intentions and incoherent desires, was about to break.That spring afternoon heralding holi gave the much needed push.

Today all the colours have mixed to form a hue, where individual colours have lost their existence.Life is expansive like colours around me ,yet dense like a bubble about to burst.

Red is no more my favourite colour. Too much of desires were wasted on red.

Today suddenly I heard a whisper awakening me from my mid life slumber.Infinite moments were spent for this day.Finally realization dawns in, truth is just an abstraction; lost in smoke of relativity.

Today too is a tired spring afternoon, with Holi round the corner. Holi hai or shall I say Holi High?

Colour me Red....

Moview Review---Charulata 2011

Saw " Charulata 2011" aswesomely pathetically horribilisly cant explain ya ,I am stammering , lost for words...it is Jims bane Bhatakti Jawani come Murderer all in one( buy one and get two free) it was so yuk thu....

The heroine Rituparna well past her prime, was insanely demented. She made me throw up my" onnoprashoner bhaat" ... abyssmal deregatory and a serious challenge to your senses if you happen to be a homosapien...or any form of life form...watch it if u dare to slaughter your senses... As didi could have said, Bandh Karo at any cost!!!!

By an old friend...

Its not about love, its all about love
Its all about some mountains n rest of the rains
About four springs and rest of winters
Expiry of relations at the right place 
And also at the right time
It not where to reach 
Its all about how to reach
Its about the famous of saying
Everythings fair in love n theatre
Its about the long wish for wings 
That would take flight one day
To a place called here...
Its all about Mondays
And all the seven days of the week
Based on true stories
And almost a clear sky...

And the story continues....Part (III)

Brr. Brr the alarm always rang at this point everyday. Half awake I barely managed to silence the aweful din. It always manged to deprive me of the company of my dreams without providing me the luxury of my solitude. Like all other days , I talked myself into believing that she never really existed all along. Some things in  my part of the world are meant to be forgotten , some  are meant to disappear and some are best left unrealized.


 I thought of taking a day off today. As I lay awake in my bed , my cell  phone rang. It was Aryan. Aryan is an old friend of  mine. We were both writers , with a difference. He was a scriptwriter and myself a novelist. We would be catching up with each other over lunch. I reached the his house  little late. I walked into his living room to see Aryan busy with some people from his unit. As I was served coffee, he suddenly walked upto me and gave me a bear hug , not something I expected him to do everyday!!! Taken aback by the sudden display of emotions , I managed a wry smile. Aryan was about to employ the same expression , when a girl in a green suit wafted across the room. " Meet Parno , my fiance" Aryan said as he holded her hands. I just didnt know how to react!!! There she was standing right in front of me was Rasha , holding my best friend's hands....

Time will tell...

A scattering of birds closing around
Into a seamlessness of form
Into a corner of my mind
Untouched, untrod places
Reality’s out the window once I dream
In those dreams
Will always be aware of
The vices of mine that makes me find in you
All the poetry and grace
That makes me live , once you have gone
Where you have gone? Only time will tell

And the story continues....Part (II)

Suddenly she turned around . Of course strictly speaking it was not love at first sight. It was more than that perhabs.We were drawn to each other moment we met. I walked across the counter and handed over the book , she was looking for( at least I  thought).She  was taken aback , yet managed to give the most captivating smile I had seen in my life. There was a small coffee shop near the book store. The chairs were dilapidated , music was aweful and the coffee was equally bad.Yet it didnt matter when I had books for company.Next day, when I was about the shop I saw her sitting at the corner devouring books . I walked up to her table , and accosted her . She gently looked up , and that marked the beginning of a lovely friendship .We bonded over books, talked endlessly about  unremarkable things  . There was spring in the air, time was non linear. I was away from home, yearning to be loved . When ever she was around the air was crisp with excitement and I was poised on the verge of collapse. Only I needed a push. I had lost my job, literally no savings basically no motivation in life .Yet Rasha made me feel alive each day. I felt , I am alive.


About her background I knew almost nothing. What I gathered was , she was living with her mother in a cottage by the sea.I still remembered that afternoon. We were out , with hands in our pockets . When I broke down......( to be continued....)

And the story begins....

Remember Parno ?Hey I , am not talking about  the pseudo—-acqua–movies you watch while sitting in your couch —-I am talking about Parno.

Parno—She belonged to everyone,and yet to no one. There was always a vaguely elusive quality about her , like a half remembered song.You could hum the melody, but the lyrics kept slipping away–Rasha–the first rain drop– was what I called her.She was Parno for the world, but for me she was Rasha–the first drop of the rain.Her demand for freedom was insistent,but her allegience to anyone who could accept her within such limit was boundless.There always a faint aura of melancholy surrounding al her mirth and vivacious  nature.

She had this complusion to behave in a way exactly opposite to her real desire. She could charm  bird right out of its tree and give it five new songs to sing. She always took decisions in haste and repented at leisure.Like an impulsive bird she would dart off at different direction .She would never be silent when she could speak.She would never  walk , when she could run.She could never turn a-way when she could help.

It was one of such afternoons , when I first saw her.She was at the book store. She had an extremely pretty interesting face with her hands fluttering in the air like lively birds.It was not as if I had not seen any one beautiful than her before , yet she had some delicate fragrance that breathed the fresh promise of the greenest ferns in the deepest part of the forbidden forest.I walked upto her, she was in a midst of an animated conversation with the salesman across the counter  when suddenly.............( to be continued)

A chance encounter....

Mrs. Sen is a distant cousin of my mother’s  sister in laws second brother’s third wife( first two are happily married not to each other). My mom had been talking about her since my last birth , and today I had the privilege of visiting her.

 Last month she was freshly imported from her  son  from CANADA.The door was opened by a lady who seemed  a hybrid between  Nirupa Roy and  Mumtaz( strictly going by how much she pouted and quivered her lips). Mrs. Sen came  across as the Jawanipur express derailed at the last compartment, considering the amount of pancake she slapped across her face. Otherwise she looked just little worse than OK . The disaster struck when my mom started her usual topic of daughter bashing( she prefers to use acid and phenyl  instead  of regular soap in me-bashing). Tanataraaa tara taram---Mrs. Laboni  Sen was in her best spirits( only Rum no breezers ).

 At  her dramatic best she started as to how nobody could beat her in her frustration and sadness. Wow, not even my mom( even after having a  daughter like me!!). There she was  sitting in the middle of the sofa , I could see the acid rising from inside( a SEN-sation feeling in Bengalis ombol—acid reflux ) as she narrowed her already extinct eyebrows and started her  west side story. The blabbering started , as to how these firang culture are spoiling the holy soil in kal Yug( what an awesome movie man).Her  son it seems  had started dating a firang ( there goes my dream of marrying a NRI) and actually took had the audacity to go out for a date without asking  his only ma( blasphemy !) . My mother was about to open her mouth , when Mrs. Sen  gave us the  my-thighs-a-better-actress-than-me Shipa Shetty look ,and started her rant. With a passionate shake of his head, she  looked  to the right and then to the left, rapidly, in a way that would make the Nana Patekar’s  character in Parinda  look positively tranquil. 

As a matter of fact, Mrs. Sen  squeezes in more drama and chills in these few minutes than Katrina Kaif  in Tees Maar Khan!  In her long list of grudges from the lack of availability of fresh water fish (pukurer mach )in CANADA, to the policy of the Indian Government for not doing anything about the brain drain, unfair treatment  of Bisawajit( father of posenjit aka Prasenjit of Bengal) by the Bollywood , SUCHITRA SEN  being not given Life time achievement award by the Oscars, the immigration policy of CANADIAN Governement( Malotir Ma not being  able to make it to CANADA Mrs. Sen had to wash her dishes everyday !&%* sic sic ).

 Ekta Kapoor would have dumped Vidya Balan only if she was around. Mrs  Sen was entertainment cube at her best when suddenly my mother made the second mistake of her life(first being giving  birth to –u got it right?). She had the audacity to disagree with her on her take on  Suchitra Sen!!! All hell bent loose, Laboni Mashi , turned from being Nirupa roy to Lalita Pawar. I would see my dream of devouring  Gajar ka Halwa and alu ke parathe being turned into nightmare. As Laboni Mashi, suddenly  offered  us water with some toblerone and phoren chocolates!!!. It seems Malotir ma had still not got over the trauma over immigration laws and called it quits!!!!!! Well I started devouring , like a starved Emraan Hashmi being offered to play the lead in Jism bane Murder –er.The result is that I am still suffering from such complex motion that sometimes I forget to even flush(its that frequent !!!). One of the chocolates I carried back home , I tried checking the price tag( feeling elated of having taken one for my bherry bherry close fraand), among many things I saw a little tag. Made in China!!! Either  this is Chinalization or Khiddipore Fancy Marketization,  I know not!!!!

A Day at my University...

Being a university student I had the pleasure of visiting my university frequently.  I  had the  honour and privilege to observe  such  great men of honour from such close quarters. For starters , I went to the sales counter for fees submittion for Phd form today. The man at the counter looked like  a distant  cousin of  Amrish  Puri . He had this focused nonchalant look on his face that reminded me  of  Uday Chopra in his hay days. He was accepting the money at such alarming pace that would  make any Ashustosh Gowarikar movie seem like Rush  hour.

 By the time my turn came , I  had already chewed up my perfectly manicured nails( + 10 % vat added) and pulled up my hairs( whatever  was  left  , now that I have started washing them regularly every month) , the man behind the counter decided to call it a day!!!! I was about to collapse into the arms of  a gutka chewing gentle-homosapien , when a managed to catch hold of  Mr.Amrish Puri's lookalike's  hand…
 His expression if I right fully  remember ( I was already in Mr. Gutka’s arm , n he was already transported to Bangkok for a song and a dance sequence, Bangkok is cheaper than Digha ya Mandermani these days for shooting u see) was that of  a saarprized Tushar Kapoor  ( that is before he went to the numerologist  who added one s , finally at GOLMAAL we were  spared of  the trauma of his speech).

I tried all the tricks  staring from being Daku rani Himmatwali to Humra Padosan( the  new hot Bhojpuri movie making waves I heard #@%&*), Mr. Amrapurklar look alike finally relented. I was given the form…..I felt like  Mayawati  after her 100000000th statue making it to Madam Tussauds. I was ecstatic , I reached my salvation from the cycle of mortality. Shakespeare stated “ All the worlds a stage n and all  men and women  merely players” Players?  Oh come on , if you consider Beti B’s father  what was his name? huh! , Bobby Deol , Niel Mukesh as  Players!!! Then I am  all ready having a stage fright!!! Well well, by then I already achieved Nirvana ( I still  listen to their music it’s a great way to feel , abhi to main  jawan hoon types though I am tired telling my son's friend not to call  me aunty huh!). Wow going by todays couse of action I can might as open a crash course on art of achieving Moksha in approximately 2 hour 48 minutes( approximately that was the time I spent standing in the queue)

Recession

Before I start , let me introduce myself. Hi, my name is me, I  have  a dilipated system  called brain carefully fixed on a structure  what some intelligent apes mistakenly refer  as homosapiens. A great philanthropist cum rebel cum social worker (its the in thing now) who can dare to change the world and the worldly functions provided  I  have my cuppa of mocha cappuccino with sugar free at Barista and my brown bread thin crust pizza( I am  on diet you see) , well then I can almost  be at par with any Bhagat Singhs and Surya Sens of the world.

I am a staunch supporter of Anna Hazare. Really I tell you ministers have  no right to waste money in some commonwealth games , 2G scams, which rightfully belongs to Gandhis and Pawars of the world .Height of corruption I must say. Finally after I got over my frustration of not sharing my surname with such illustrious personas, I get another shock Brad Pitt finally decides to marry  Jolie!!!!  Hey I cant call Brad  Pa!!! All these years I was secretly hoping against hope , now that I am poor ( don’t  belive huh check out my credit card statements ) , and fortunately belong to a third world country she would adopt me!!! I even contacted her agent and he seemed quite positive … I swear I remember him telling me , he was o+ve….

As I am thoroughly depressed , I pick up my morning newspaper only to further liquefy my already  diluted function of brain ….as I read along to check …the names  for beti Bs of the world I am frustrated with only  CRR and SLR rates notifications by the RBI governor……!@#$&*…Who  cares ya,being a sub class of homo sapiens how does inflation and GDP   growth rate make my life better?

 How does such insane speculations about  the RBI governor reducing the fiscal deposit and balance  of payment ( God I am already speaking nonsense ) help me? Inflation  for  me is Kanta Bai, refusing to settle for anything less than 20% salary hike in her CTC , with breakfast and lunches for incentives( fish has to be served fresh you see she is allergic to stale food, and the Tata Sky channel subscriptions to be increased bcoz hamara pati sirf uska hain doesn’t  come in  my present subscription plan!!!) along with 6 medical , 8 casual and 5 earn leave monthly…!!!! And after filing up her monthly leave file, she  suddenly she calls me up and feigns some nondesriptive asymptotic disease!!! That translates me doing the stiching of shoe and reading the chandi ( an idiom in amar bhasha bangla bhasha)… !!!! 

After I have recovered from  the shock for the umpteenth time for the day, I  receive my bank statement ..Wow my lucky day!!! The number of zeroes in my account were cut copied pasted from  my son’s report card!!! When I  finally got ready for the day to face the dreaded meeting at my office where I have to look dumb , act inert to whatever discussions that would follow—I dropped my son at his school. His class teacher was giving me some looks that  was enough to drop me dead( not that she was drop dead gorgeous) I literally ran away in slow motion to hop into the metro, hoping against hope that progeny  unfortunately we call male  will not hallucinate today about all curvy creatures in  the claustrophobic metro , as Bipasha s and Mallika s all the world and refuse to paw them!!! I am again disappointed!!!! Umptenth + 1 times for the day…

I reached office , pretty late as already I see my colleages have started their favourite  hobby of PNPC,Bitchitng fool..( cricket is no more the binding factor, wake up!! It has become a notional past time) period.

And the cake and the icing is that I have to attend a seminar as a key note speaker , on “ Recession and its effect on corporate restructuring”. Now I want to scream aloud… RECESSION for me is going to the “make a  wish foundation”( I am a reular social worker you see, it sounds so upper class right?) and  wanting wine(Indian brand would do, hard times I can understand)  and some handsome dude and getting water( not mineral water that too) and husband.in return.

Reason  all rich ,intelligent, witty, sporty men are either married or gay!!!

GOD , now I have only one way to escape…I would prefer to die by drowing myself . Actually heaven don’t have this recession concept and all the MIT graduate  bankers are in hell so credit lines wont be a problem you see. All I need is some painless and interesting way to get me out of this mess. As this requires serious contemplation, I finally realize , I need Jack Daniel and Johnny walker for company!!!

Hic Hic hurrayyyyyyy Heaven here I come……