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……