KALIYUG RAMAYANA : The World-cup final !!

I hope that you guys read it before the World-cup final is over.
and please share it if you like it, for INDIAN SUPPORT !

It is the first time that two asian countries will play for the world-cup and as Mahela Jayawardhene( VIBHISHAN) has put it, India is more likely to win the cup.
However the Kaliyug Ramayana has seen a change in SITA,the vivacious,scintillating beauty, the whole world is after - The World Cup ( though not abducted by Sri-Lanka, but c'mon a li'l twist is allowed and anyways they were the runner's up last season). LORD RAMA himself has reincarnated in the form of SACHIN, playing almost for more than the stipulated VANVAS(14 years) and now in pursuit of his better half- The World-Cup.
Supporting him is HANUMAN- Virender Sehwag, who has set the LANKA on fire many a times and as ARJUNA RANATUNGA (Daitya Guru),puts it, he is the most volcanic batsman in India. The rest of the talented team is the VANAR-SENA, with MS DHONI- the skipper captain, as 'SUGRIV' the VANAR RAJA.

When it comes to LANKA, who better than MURULIDHARAN to don the mantle of RAVAN (not coz he looks like a DAITYA :P, but because he is the only one to mess with RAM.) The lankan team has the whole middle order as 'KUMBHAKARAN' sleeping and dormant. However, if woken up, though unlikely, they could be devastating.

All said and done, the captains and other batsmen will do their required jobs, but the match will gyrate around the fact that whether Muruli is hurling top-spins and Doosras(read VISH- BARND) or SACHIN is tossing them with ease(RAM-BARND).

However, being a huge HANUMAN-BHAKT, i believe SEHWAG will play the pivotal role.

LANKA KO PARAST KIYA JAYE !!:)))

ITI

Unconventional Goa !!

There have always been the 3 B's that have been associated with Goa- Beach, Booze and Babes (though not neccessarily in that priority), although an impishly perceivable mind can think of a few more B's. When i say, unconventional Goa, i mean those aspects of this scenic territory that often goes unseen or maybe ignored, but something that makes this place so unique.

I got the oppurtunity of being a part of the big-bash organized by www.freshersworld.com, for their promising campus ambassadors. I was on my way to goa when i met this hermit, who was going to an Ashram in Old Goa. Now this guy was Awesome. His name was 'Baba Bhola' and i think i will need another post dedicated to this 'monk-who-sold-his-ferrari'
Anyways, this 'Baba Bhola' shared with me some wisdom about Goa, and he asked me to reach beyond the convention of this beautiful land.
The following day, we said our share of goodbyes and i had my eyes popped out to look for the unconventions.
The first night we stayed in Old Goa. It was almost dusk by the time we settled in, yet we put on our shorts and set the right foot out. We hailed an auto, oblivious about the plying buses. The auto-rickshaw was a closed,compact wagon with curtains and flowers carefully placed. We asked him to drive us to Panjim market, about 7KM from our present location, according to the hotel map, and the auto-driver demanded a whopping Rs. 120. We tried haggling, but the doors were opened without hesitation. We relented. That was the first of the numerous encounters we had with these omnipresent auto-drivers and by the next day it was clear to us that haggling does not work in Goa, because there is no dearth of willing customers.
However, we were saved by the plying buses between stations. These were small state run buses, with clear mandates for the number of people to be seated and stood, and by Jove, it was followed. However, Goa is low on chauvinism as the boys sit on the ladies seat unabashadely and the ladies in that for senior citizen.The conductor clad in funky clothes and flashy glares, never missed the fare. The buses had a pecularity, the small electric bell, that acted as a communication between the conductor and the driver.

The people of Goa, are multi-lingual.They can speak English, Hindi and local language with quite ease. However, when it comes to writing, the spellings are often erroneous.
Wherever you go, you can listen to peppy, foot-tapping ,melodious songs and towards the evenings you can try your hand at the karaoke or jazz competitions. All it would cost you is a Tuna and bacon, and a bottle of beer.
Speaking of alcohol, which happens to be a convention, i would like to draw your attention towards the local alcohol, which is priced at Rs. 100-400 a bottle, depending on the quality. Its called Fenny and is available in several flavours, my favourite being Olive.However there is another local drink available in the beaches early in the morning called Amaya, that not many people know about. It tastes better than wine and stones more than a bong. Its every alcoholics desire,in Goa.However,its illegal.
Another very unusual thing about this place is the architecture. The houses built around the capital, have such a refined, pre-historic look. Some of  them columbian enough and few deserving the flashes. The palm trees along the borders accentuates the panorama.
The best part of the entire trip was the last day, when i broke out of my group , hired a bike,a rusty old splendour(i had no choice) and rode around the city. Its fun to read directions, get lost ,discover short-cuts and live in the moment. However, before that let me tell you, hiring a bike on a weekend is one hell of a job. You have to be smart enough to strike a deal. Don't try haggling after the rent has been quoted. I took help from a a random localite and struck the deal for Rs. 300 for 16 hours, apart from the security and DL proof.
The people of Goa are the best i have met so far. However, the brokers and middlemen continue to be as reprehensible as anywhere across our country. Perhaps they all share a breed.
From the moment i stepped into Goa, i never saw a cop. However, on that day when i was riding my bike at an unaccountable speed, i was gestured by a white uniformed guy to pull over. I could smell bribery, and was weighing my wallet, when a smiling face greeted me and asked for my DL. I produced it, surprised at the smile, or was it a smirk??
He glanced at it, warned me to drive slowly for my own safety and then moved away. For the first time in my life, i was stopped by a cop and let go without a penny lost. I was all respect for the guy.
Parking is at whim. 'No-parking' signals are just for the pigeons to perch.
I had been to beaches, done all crazy things that you expect a young lad to do in a beach. After 4 days of conventional shit, when i broke free of it and gave a brief stint to my unconventional pursuits, the road from panjim to old Goa attracted me the most.

 The bylanes and boulevards and the ancient architecture located beside the calm and spectacular juar river was a speckle to the nitty-gritties of conventional Goa. I parked my bike beside the Juar dock and strode the 6 KMs up and back, while clicking some adorable pics.Sometimes, you want to savour a moment for lifetime. This was one such moment for me.
That night i was leaving for my hiking across Maharashtra and MP and i thought what better than a chilled glass of Amaya. However, it was dusk and i could not find it. However, i found something else, but its inappropriate to mention it, so i leave it to your wild imaginations !!
Foe more pictures on Unconventional Goa, click on the following link :

Unconvntional Goa !!

Hanging Paragraphs : Worth a Swipe

Hanging Paragraphs : The hundreds of snippets of thoughts that lie buried under heaps,under copies long lost relations with.

I unravel them as i dust-off my old stacks. 

Worth A Swipe

Its not like an arduously blended wine

thats poured in a long stemmed glass

not a freshly baked rasher of bacon

nor a polished brazen,brass.

Words often flow out in a gush of emotions

 & its seldom worth a swipe

Its reduced to just a couple of rhymes, not poetry

when words are picked, but

Thoughts are not ripe !!

SOS in book fair !!

Kolkata recently held its 35^th Annual book fair,better known as ‘Boi Mela’. It was inaugurated on 25^th evening and the next day,26^th Jan –Republic Day-National Holiday, people thronged the stalls and the Milan Mela ground saw almost 2 lakh footfalls.It was crowded like the local sealdah-bound trains on weekday office opening hours. People were brushing across each other more than brushing through the books; some young boys had the time of their life.

Some hundreds of stalls were setup, with almost every publishing house,library,embassy,club setting up one. Security check was brisk and negligent. You might think it must be one helluva job for the security personnel to frisk every individual. I would have agreed, but sample this. The Gates did not have female security so, Lady Bin Laden could have carried a sack full of RDX, gelatin sticks and adequate detonators. But hey, wouldn’t that trigger the metal detector. Oh yes that would, only if it was turned on. Kolkata police has immense trust in its intuitive abilities,like the other security agencies that guard the city malls.

However the situation was not so despicable when I went there the other 3 times. At least they had female security at the gates, so what if most of the time they were gossiping. Their presence was divine.

I have been in love with ‘Boi Mela’since my 1^st year in college and Kolkata. Its crowded, its dusty and its in hollers but the sight of innumerous books marvelously arranged in piles and rows draws your attention. There are hardbound, paperbacks, some plastic bounded too. Some books which are unheard and dug out from past, few new releases, some amorously decorated novels and humming girls around that section, some thin,limp book written by a renowned author and excessively priced. Every stall has a classics section, a bestseller’s collection and one section which only draws intellectually vibrant people, who more or less resemble each other, with thick myopic glasses resting on the brim of their nose and an unnoticed faint smile on their lips.To me those people have attained nirvana. Who else would read a speaking tree?

But there is one section which attracts me the most. The stalls with no names. The stalls, which house those books which cannot be found in the rarest of rare stores. These are books which are written by anonymous writers and bards from the underprivileged villages and small towns. Written in vernaculars and printed on the most inferior quality papers, it sells for Rs.25 to 75 depending on the thickness and not quality of content. These stalls were sandwiched between big publishing houses, and covered with advertisement of Gramin-Udhyogik bank or a so and so NGO.
Girls not more than 16years of age welcome you with a smile that never dies out. The sparse crowd attracted to it hurts me. Perhaps, it is lack of information that stops people from visiting such master-suites of knowledge and literature. Therefore, over the past 3 years I have seen a huge dip in the number of these stalls. From 6 they dropped down to 4 and this year only 1. Upon asking those smiling hosts, about the thinning stalls I got to know that the expense of travelling and publishing these snippets turns out to be more than the profit earned. It’s with the help from an NGO that this stall is still functional. But, there is no assurance for the next year.

I was moved. And there I decided to do the best I can to revive these stores.

But apparently, that was just the feel of the hour. What could I do, but speak and write about these poor intellectuals and their pool of talent. And I am sure it’s not the matter of only Kolkata book –fair. It must be countrywide.

So It is my earnest request to you all, please spread this awareness among people. And its not charity.  No... It is the appreciation of art and literature.

Paradise on Weed !

Statutory Warning :  Smoking weed is injurious to health(or is it??)
 
This post is written with inspirations from the reggae legend 'Bob Marley' songs.
NO WEED INVOLVED.

Tonight if you allow me fair amigos
I will tell you what my life is
Its empty bottles by the pier
and cigarette stubs by the sea
Its the blackest coffee you can have
and a life increasingly sedentary
Random thoughts in a diary
is this paragraph thats meant to be
eventful listing of a blacking out mind
anything but not poetry
Do i write just to ease some pain?
a troubled past?or is my heart slain??
No its not a girl,nor attention greed
Just the effects of filtered weed
Its guilt that gets a man killed 
post intoxication,like thinking in Warfield
Later again I'll talk to you all
about the kisses and hard-knocks of life
as of now let me lay down and roll
some tracks on black death metals toll
Yes thats what i want,but thats not my need
I just wanna leave for paradise,on weed.

Redemption & back on Republic Day

1>    some pandemonium woke me up early in the morning. I was about to plunge inside my thick blanket when a chorus started singing 'Jana Gana Mana'-our National anthem Now, I had 2 choices 1. to ignore it, after all nobody was observing and 2. Stand upright rapt attention in my sparse clothing exposed to the cold air, which ultimately i did.

It reminded me of the good old days, when republic day meant march-past and mass-drills and flag hoisting and sweet distribution, and when 'Republic Day' was not just another holiday.

2>   I went through the newspaper, read the innumerous 'Happy Republic Day' advertisements with the company logos bigger than the national flag. Sheer marketing.

Before folding it up, I went through the movies section.”OK….Alice in wonderland @2100hrs, Trishul @2000 hrs and ..And O MG repeat of Bourne Identity @10.30 hrs, that is just half an hours later. I rushed to do my groceries and return back before the movie starts. After all it's from my favorite trilogy. I managed all well within time and just when I was returning, I heard our security guard tuning his radio to All India Radio, which was airing the republic day parade, Live. 

I ambled, reminiscing the day’s when my family and I used to see the ‘Republic day celebrations’ on DD national, fixated to the minutest exhibition.

And now Bourne Identity has taken priority.Huh!!

3>  No I did not, or rather could not watch the movie. Later in the afternoon, I logged into my networking profile. There were scores of ‘Happy Republic day’ embedded on the common wall, and I could not help but wonder, how many of them actually meant it and how many of them experienced the  patriotic melancholy like myself. Some I personally knew could not distinguish the difference between the national anthem and the national song.

4>   I was on my way to the bus-stand. It was almost evening. I passed by the auto-rickshaw stoppage and was approaching the cycle-rickshaw stand when I noticed something strange. Almost all these vehicles, the LPG guzzling and the manual both, had a small flag hoisted upon its rear view mirror. To my eyes the vehicles seemed to be squeaky clean, maybe for today’s special celebration.

I have noticed this since childhood, the poor working class of India celebrate the national days more zestfully than their blessed country mates, whom the republic nation gives more reasons to do so.

5>  At night my sister surprised me with a phonecall.I told her about my patriotic reawakening, to which she congratulated me, disinterestedly. I asked “so how was your day?” With a sigh of relief she replied “By your newly acquired definition of patriotism, I was a jerk. I was so glad that this time republic day did not clash with a weekend holiday. I needed a break”.

This brought me to another realization, a more pragmatic and rational one. We don’t need a day to show our patriotism. We don't need to watch the celebrations or hoist a flag or sing the anthem on this day. Patriotism can be as small and silly as joining Indian anti-hatred forums on social networking site. When we pray for our country during the short commercial breaks between the overs in a match of cricket featuring India, we exude patriotism. When we take pride in the fact that TATA acquired Corus, we were all proud Indians and we are typically proud Indians when we celebrate the success of a foreign film based on India, the slumdog millionaire.

 I thought I needed a patriotic redemption, but now I think I don't. Patriotism need not be marred with hypocrisy. I think our ministers are doing it with unfailingly for us, and we have enough of them to worry about.

Like.....until forever..

 Like a war with Achilles
i am going to fight,but i know i am lost.
Speaking my mind,glory is no matter
My Fairest lady,thou love is!


Like petals in honeydew and milk
though small ripples disturb your image
 Don't pull me back,please don't
Not now,not ever,not until......forever!


Softly i'll bid goodbye,deftly i'll leave
Not that it would matter to you
but to me it would mean
something i so strongly desired
to be waited for and to be missed
with silent,anxious eyes eager to wait,
until.....forever
and quivering,half-parched,unspoken lips to wait,
until...forever!