February 11, 2024

Saying No


Hi guys!

I hope you all are doing well.

I was away for sometime from blogosphere and I will tell you why.

Its because I was hell bent on finishing a book which I was stuck with. Has it ever happened with you all? Or its only me who is infamous for this.

In fact I was attracted to this book when I was working. At that time I really needed these tips to be less burdened. But once started, my reading got hampered by many other important and immediate works. So I kept it half read thinking once I resume reading again it will not take much time to finish. However, when I picked it up again the tips given in the book did not seem to jell with me.

The book has an interesting title : The Art Of Saying No by Damon Zahariades.

In fact, at first I thought the book was just right for me as I do have a problem of saying no at work as well as home. I know it is important to say no to save time, energy and resources for my own priorities. I got into making this mistake of not saying no pretty long back in life before realising it’s quite futile to say yes to everything. In fact I used to wonder how some people could turn down other’s request for help with ease.

The book is divided in four parts. First part tells you why it is important to say no. What is the psyche behind the habit of not saying no. The second and third parts give tips and strategies of how to say no. The fourth part illustrates how to say no to your friends, family, colleagues and even strangers. But  most significantly it has a chapter on how to say no to your own self which I think is the root tip one must focus on.

The book at one point bogs you down with all the no-nos. I agree with the writer that it is important to say no so that you are not taken for granted,  your personal time is not unnecessarily encroached upon and you are left with ample space to prioritise the things you want to do for yourself or the time you wish to spend with your family. But I do not agree with the reason behind the habit of not saying no as per the writer.

He gives his own example stating that he was a people pleaser with low self worth. By helping others he felt included or accepted in the society of friends, relatives and acquaintances. I do not agree with this generic inference. I have seen many people who help others just out of kindness. It’s their nature. They are the givers in society who give their time, energy and  resources for others happily.

Secondly and more importantly the belief in karma prevents us from saying no to helping others. It is believed by many that today if we refuse to help others, by the complex karmic principle, we may not receive help in times of our own needs. This is completely overlooked in the book. But I don’t blame the author for this exclusion because this philosophy is so religion and country specific.

So are certain illustrations given in the book about how to react and say no to members of your social circle. Some of these are simply no-no in our case. For example, if we tell someone that we have stopped helping others as a rule we may land up being disreputed as unsocial, unhelpful and unkind. Of course it does not mean we cannot or we do not say no but it has to be done very tactfully without offending your close ones, especially, the elders.

The book is written from the perspective of a society where individual liberty is placed high. While our society is also catching up with such norms it has still not completely given away all its ancient values and culture.

You may like to read the book as a self help guide book if you choose to. But again the tactics given in the book have to be employed keeping in mind your social customs and norms of behaviour.

Happy reading….

Shared with Goodreads and Mouthshut.com

Posted by on February 11, 2024 in Books, Learning, MUSINGS, OPINION, REVIEW, TALKING ABOUT BOOKS and tagged .

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February 4, 2024

“Seeing The Girl”


How do significant life events or the passage of time influence your perspective on life?

In our society marriages are arranged by families. These are known as arranged marriages. In contrast there are love marriages also wherein the boy and the girl know each other well before tying the knot. Now there are various permutations- combinations of these two types of marriages like arranged-cum-love marriage wherein families arrange the match and let the boy and girl meet often so that they can get a chance to know each other. There is also vice versa wherein lovers inform their respective families about their choice of partner and the families meet and give their consent for marriage. In pure love or arranged marriages there are chances of opposition from either the families involved in the former case or the unwillingness of the concerned boy/girl getting married in the latter. So, midway where a consensus can be reached is always preferable.

In our times, it was mostly arranged marriages where the boy’s family came to “see the girl” and her family to assess whether the match was suitable or not. In my grandparents’ time the custom was more rigid. Girl and boy saw each other’s faces only during the matrimonial ceremony. The elders of the groom’s family came to see the girl. The girl’s family was considered inferior or secondary in the social ladder. It was the groom’s family who initiated the process of selection. If the girl’s family ever approached the boy’s family first, it would be like moving in an application for the latter’s consideration.

“Seeing the girl” was a significant step if the family was found acceptable. It was more than a veritable interview. The girl would be asked to walk around to ascertain whether she had any physical handicap. If she had long hair the strands would be pulled to make sure they were real. If she was not fair enough it was a shame. Education was not important rather a problem. If the girl was too knowledgeable and questioned the status quo she was trouble. It was more important for her to know how to prepare the most difficult dish to perfection. How to garnish a particular curry or distinguish between two delicacies by the ingredients they were supposed to be tempered with. I have heard that my maternal grandmother was ‘chosen’ by the shape of her feet!! Her face was not seen or must have been adequately covered which was required to be lifted up by the elderly ladies of the girl’s family to ‘show’ to the other party.

In short, the entire exercise was a massive and glorified system of commodification of women. I always felt ashamed of this ritual. It was like marketing a product. There was an automatic resistance in me to this paraphernalia even before I could analyse my antagonism towards it.

But like all other girls, I too had to go through the process whether I liked it or not. More so because I was a fatherless child without any substantial means staying at that time with my paternal aunt and uncle. My father’s younger brother whom I called kaku was my self adopted guardian. I had a lot of respect and a very good rapport with him. We had many memorable times together though for a very short time.

Coming back to the match. The matchmaker was my cousin whom I had never been in close touch. She and her husband were settled in Sweden as research scholars. Then they decided to shift to Kolkata. Somehow she got in touch with mother who was in Delhi and proposed a match between me and her erstwhile colleague’s son. She was all praises for him. He was about to go abroad for his Phd and the family had very little time to select a girl and marry him off before he left – kind of putting him within bounds.

On the pre fixed day the family arrived to “see” me. Father, mother and son – all three of the same height. The boy looked like a school kid. Father was very affable and nice. Mother was snooty with a sizing me up look. She boasted how all her offsprings (daughter and son) were super accomplished in studies and other curricular activities. Both were disciples of renowned musical gurus. The boy was made to sing as a proof of his mother’s bragging. I had to reciprocate next by singing a Tagore song which my paternal uncle had taught and had me rehearse quite a number of times prior to the ‘meeting’.

I started well but after a few lines I went off chord and even after trying hard could not get back in tune. They listened to my off key ditty politely. The father of the boy graciously commented that they would tutor me to their level, of course, after marriage. We were given time to speak to each other alone. The boy impressed me with his deep knowledge in Physics (which I could not make head or tail of) and other subjects but never asked me whether I had a passport to accompany him abroad.

Well I did not. To top it all I had the gumption to “reject” him on the ground that he was not interested in me. The boy also got the impression that I was not very excited about the ‘project’.

Aftermath ?

A lengthy discussion on how I could get off everything after so many rehearsals, especially, on uncle’s precious scale changer harmonium which was one of the many proud possessions of the household.

A barrage of resentful commentary over phone from my stranger of a cousin who was wild at me having had the audacity to disagree to a match which was almost made in heaven. She foresaw that my life would be nothing but a desert full of cacti letting go off my hand such a promising prospect and that she was quite sure that I would never get another such golden opportunity to get married, which to her credit, came true.

After many such mishaps, loud debates , acrimonious exchanges, finally my sister advised mother to leave me alone.

Though I did get my own way I could never explain my feelings about the whole circus to my mother. I didn’t think she would have understood.

But my paternal aunt, suffering in a marriage between unequals, sympathized with me and kaku, of course, supported me. Perhaps they heaved a sigh of relief too not having to go through the rigmarole of a big fat Indian wedding.

In all such matchmaking mishaps I always landed up liking the would be grooms’ fathers. If only they were to replace their sons.

I am sure Freud would have much to theorise on such symptoms. 🤪🤪

Posted by on February 4, 2024 in A PROTEST A LAMENT, DOWN MEMORY LANE, HUMOUR, OPINION and tagged , .

6 Comments

February 3, 2024

Passion Price And Pragmatism


Something on your “to-do list” that never gets done.

Man proposes but God disposes.

I had elaborate plans for the post retirement phase of life – almost like a grand vacation.

But all is not seem to be happening quite the way I visualised.

One of many such dreams of mine was resuming my riyaaz, that is, the timely and disciplined practice of vocal chords for classical music. It requires getting up at an ungodly hour in the morning depending upon the raga you wish to practice. If it’s a raga of the twilight hours you have to abandon all your chores and sit down with your base instrument, harmonium or taanpura, in a room, preferably locked from inside, so that nobody can disturb you.

It has been instilled in our grey cells from infancy that devotion to classical music (vocal or instrumental), is nothing less than a spiritual sadhana or single-minded and deep involvement which may even, ideally, call for renunciation of all other wordly attachments.

For a person, who has to look after his/her family and shoulder responsibilities, it is not possible to indulge in one’s passion at the expense of all other duties.

However, there are exceptions to prove the rule.

My mother’s neuropsychiatrist nurtures many hobbies. One of them is music. He sings well. For quite sometime he has been appearing in competitive shows but leaving midway because of familial and professional demands.

Now, he has decided to follow his passion wholeheartedly. Last I heard he was all set to buy a particular harmonium from Kolkata on his guru or teacher’s advice, which costs a hefty figure. I would have lauded his efforts but over the years I have learnt to be pragmatic. I doubt how wise it is to spend so much on one’s hobby. He is in his prime. Perhaps he can afford to follow his dream. Hobbies are never inexpensive.

But he has a school going daughter too whom he has to give proper education and marry off. Of course, he falls in the double income group – both he and his wife are doctors in practice.

But I am habituated to worry. So, I do worry. I worry where his passion is going to lead him to. I worry that everyone should save for a red letter day. I worry whether he will be able to fulfill his dreams under pressures of his regular practice as a specialist and looking after his daughter and aged parents.

Nonetheless, I wish him all the very best.

At least, he is able to do what I am not, even at a stage where I should have sufficient will and time to pick up the threads which I had let loose a long, long time back.

But my riyaaz languishes till now in my To-do List. I have given away my base instruments to the nearby Gurdwara a few years back as donations. My voice is no more musical and will require rigorous hours of practice which may come in the way of many other comparatively important and immediate work.

Settling down in your second innings also requires time. Once I do so I shall sing to my heart’s content without worrying what my neighbours think of me.

And that’s a promise for sure.

Till then…

This is the harmonium which is to be shipped from Kolkata. Impressive, isn’t it?

Posted by on February 3, 2024 in A SHORT ESSAY, Art and Art Forms, Confession, FOR A CAUSE, Learning, MUSIC, MUSINGS, OF HUMAN QUEST, OPINION and tagged , .

2 Comments

February 1, 2024

The Early Days


Write about your first computer.

The prompt reminded me of the beginning of my career.

I started my work life in a small private company where I was placed at the reception with an EPBX Board with two telephone lines. I picked up the job soon. So, as an incentive, I was handed over a huge ledger wherein I had to tally the total of a long list of figures.

Given my mathemophobia, needless to say, my totals never tallied. Being naive, I did not know how a family owned private concern operated – on informants who supplied office gossip. The salary was meagre and I did not understand why being a receptionist cum telephone operator I had to do accounts job which did not interest me.

My elder sister was a teacher in a nearby school at that time. I think it was her suggestion that I should try my hand at teaching. I tried small private schools first and then the school where I was a student once. I was not meant for the profession. But if someone asks me now to teach a certain age group I may not be that unprofficient.

As fated, I did not succeed in teaching but I got a lucrative offer in Kolkata through one of my school colleagues. I changed base not knowing what I was heading for.

Kolkata was not that cosmopolitan as Delhi. The city as a whole thought all Delhiites were well connected, well off and led a fast life. I was instantly the social outcast in office as well as in the locality where I put up with my relatives. In the eyes of the Kolkattans I was ‘different’. Hence, unacceptable. I was and I never bothered to change. If I belonged to some other planet, so he it.

In my new job, I was again at the reception with a bigger EPABX System with many telephone lines. I also had to learn how to send messages on telex. Somehow I loved to work on machines. After a while the EPABX System was replaced by an electronic version. It was new and exciting.

Gradually in the second half of the day I was put on administrative work – basically record keeping. It was all manual. Then came the computers. Limited in number, they were allotted to higher ups and selected few down the line. There was one for the staff.

With computers came the fear of losing jobs. It was presumed that the one who knew how to operate the tool, his/her post was secured. So, whosoever knew a little was reluctant to share the knowledge.

There were two programmes – Lotus which later evolved into Excel and the other one, if I remember correctly, was called Database, the primordial version of Word. Both were tedious. More so, without appropriate and adequate training.

I used to grab every opportunity to work on the staff computer whenever it was free since I was not allocated any. Self learning was time consuming. I would hear jeering remarks from the back I chose to ignore and carry on tapping on the keyboard.

Sometimes the cursor just refused to move forward. If you asked the staff there were chances that they would give misleading directions. The officers had the notion that it was the staff who was supposed to work on the machine. So there was no need to make efforts towards learning how to operate the ‘monster’. I , a hands-on person, was caught in between.

It was much later that with some elementary training I was established as moderately progressive on the machine. Many years later when SAP took over Finance, HR and Procurement, I was designated as a go-to person in the Department for problem resolution (while working on the system), much to the chagrin of my peers and seniors. And a decade later, I was assisting my boss in validating and refining software systems, he was passionate about.

A long…long … journey.

What say you?

Posted by on February 1, 2024 in A SHORT ESSAY, Confession, Learning, MUSINGS, OF HUMAN QUEST, OPINION and tagged , .

5 Comments

January 31, 2024

Fear


What’s the thing you’re most scared to do? What would it take to get you to do it?

Fear is dynamic.

It evolves with time.

It is not one fear that works inside.

Handicapping, immobilizing, dwarfing us.

In different stages of life we suffer from different fears.

I was a tongue tied, shy child.

Mother pushed me out of my comfort zone – home.

She would send me to buy some item from nearby shops or run errands for her in the neighborhood.

I had to rehearse several times in my head the most ordinary sentence I had to say to the shopkeeper or the neighbour like asking for a bottle of milk or confirming whether the electricity supply was on.

On hindsight, I realize how dreadful it was for me to face people – it still is – somewhere deep within but I have learnt to camouflage that awkwardness or acquired the skill to manage my day to day affairs with or without a hitch.

I have always been very concerned of public opinion. “What will people think of me” has been a common snag in my cerebral programming. I think that is why I have forever been obedient, cautious, rule abiding. Even now.

But somewhere up the path, after stumbling innumerable times, I learnt to question and vocalise against illogicality and senselessness. Again I have never been a confrontationist but chosen the point of intersection where a consensus can be reached with the ‘other’ one. However, many have misinterpreted this attitude as a deliberate avoidance of controversy. Perhaps in a way it is. In the process I have absorbed a lot which has been an exercise in self torture most times. I guess blurting it out is a good antidote to being unnecessarily enduring, brooding and giving too much leeway to people who are in a position to inflict hurt and humiliation.

A perennial financial insecurity has haunted me throughout my working life. It’s laughable actually! On one hand, I have earned, on the other, I have been scared of not having enough. I guess I should have been more financial savvy than fearful. Earning is not enough. Wealth generation from what you earn is the trick of the trade. I have lagged behind in this quarter. And now it’s too late. So, we both live together – me and my lack of financial acumen.

At present I am scared of the sufferings I am going through for the past so many years seeing my mother suffer. I am battling it out like an over exhausted soldier. The fear of giving in, loss, absence and vacuum is an amalgamate of what I am combating presently.

We know there is grief but we cannot handle it. We know there is separation but we still cling on. We know, in the long run, isolation awaits. But the fear of having noone is overwhelming.

I guess the only way is prayer, submission and acceptance. I am working towards it.

Alongside, I am also trying very hard to keep myself mentally and physically fit. I guess that goes a long way to keep you sane.

Last but not the least, I wish to declutter my life. Simplify the way I live. It’s a process which is all encompassing – what I cook, what I eat, what I wear, what is my daily routine and leisure, what I aim for, what I think and what I do to keep myself going. Sounds easy but it’s a complete overhaul.

We have to find our own kingdom of peace and contentment. I don’t want to live to make anybody else happy. I want to be in peace with and happy for myself. I am unambitious about life. I do not have or sell big dreams. I see myself getting detached little by little from everything.

The path of renunciation is very tempting.

Will it be really that easy?

Guess what the caption should be of the pic???

Posted by on January 31, 2024 in A PROTEST A LAMENT, A SHORT ESSAY, Confession, Learning, MUSINGS, OF HUMAN QUEST, OPINION, REVELATION and tagged , , .

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January 27, 2024

What Is Truth ?


In religion or spiritualism the omnipresence and realization of a Supreme Power – the Creator of the Universe – is the absolute and ultimate Truth. This Supreme Power is known as God.

God created human beings. Unfortunately, humans created various versions of truth making the term relative. Every moment, consequently, has its own truth seen from different perspectives.

The Malayalam courtroom drama Neru or The Truth (streaming on Disney Hotstar) is about the relativity of human perception – how a moment’s truth can be presented and re-presented from different perspectives and angles so that the victim’s truth can be falsified by re-creating truth by the perpetrator of crime.

Sara, a blind girl (Anaswara Rajan), is raped by an unknown assailant who visits the victim’s neighbourhood for a day and comes to know that she will be alone for a few hours at home. The rapist leaves no clue behind. There is no eye witness too as the raped cannot see her raper.

But the girl is a talented sculptor. She had learnt the art before she became blind at the age of twelve due to medical cause. She sculpts the face of the raper. She had touched, rather felt the face of the raper, with her fingers, during the forced intercourse. She also identifies the raper at the Police Station the same way by figuring out the contours of his visage and hair by touch or the said tactile method.

The rapist happens to be the son of a rich businessman of Mumbai who, goaded by his wife, engages the most expensive defense lawyer, Advocate Rajashekhara (Siddiqui), who is known to employ very twisty ways to win any case. Because of his domineering presence and arguments no Prosecutor can or is ready to stand up to him. As always is, the rich overpowers the rest with means, money and muscle!!!

During the proceedings, the defense lawyer not only shuts his opponent up but also goes on to defame the family of the plaintiff to the extent of even insinuating that the poor girl was actually raped by her father, Mohammad, who is not her biological father but her step father.

In spite of greedy lawyers (including family members – Mohammad has two sons and wife by his first marriage) taking advantage of the weak situation of the victimised family, Sara, Mohammad and Sara’s mother decide to continue to fight on. In the meanwhile, the Chief Inspector, who is investigating the case, is removed from the case because he refuses to compromise evidence. However, even after his removal from the case he unofficially keeps helping Sara and his family to find a Special Public Prosecutor to defend her.

Through a known source, he approaches Vijay Mohan (Mohan Lal), a former lawyer who used to work under Rajashekhara to appear for Sara in Court. Vijay Mohan refuses at first. However, after meeting Sara, he reluctantly agrees to take up her case though at the same time confessing that he is not fit to fight the case.

Vijay Mohan, though still very much into law, has lost touch with trials. (He only gives legal advices). He also does not have adequate confidence to stand against his former mentor. But he knows the crooked means Rajashekhara adopts to be victorious. The defence lawyer does not have any scruples and he teaches his daughter (Priyamani), who is also a Supreme Court lawyer, to be likewise.

Vijay Mohan was once in love with Rajashekhara’s daughter. But when Rajashekhara came to know about their relationship he was unhappy. As was his ways, he wrongly alleged Vijay Mohan of professional misconduct and ousted him from job.

With such precedences, it’s all the more difficult for Vijay Mohan to fight Sara’s case against his ex-boss and ex-lover who also attends the trials to assist her father.

Mohan Lal, as Vijay Mohan, is stupendous. It’s awesome to watch how he is at first bullied by his former employer, how he gradually regains confidence, after years of non-practice, as the case proceeds and finally by an unprecedented means turns the table on the perpetrator and wins the case.

Anaswara Rajan as Sara is a heart stealer. Her undaunted courage to go on, in the face of opposition and crude prosecution tactics, is inspiring.

Siddiqui as the hateful defense lawyer manifests how facts can be distorted and played with to camouflage reality.

As I said in the beginning, humans are the only creations of God whose truths vary from one another. The criminal poses that he is not guilty. It is the truth that he wants to manifest by hook or by crook. The victim seeks justice by presenting sets of facts which are his/her truth according to his/ her perception.

If by any means the perp wins, his truth is established in front of the world. The victim’s claims are condemned as false and overshadowed by the proven truth. As in this case, ultimately the victim gets justice and walks head held high and without covering her face from the world, her truth is sustained. Truth is relegated to a mere gamble in the hands of those who can either choose to be fair or unfair, as the case be. It is not always the righteous who is victorious and defeats the wrong. In reality, there is interplay of a plethora of factors, which can change the throw of dice in the game.

Neru is a Malayalam movie. Malayalam is said to be the most difficult amongst Indian languages. It is spoken in the peninsular state of Kerala which is also famous for its backwaters. I watched the movie dubbed in Hindi. One great contribution of OTT is that it has thrown open a variety of movies and series in various national and international languages, dubbed or with sub titles, which can now be relished by movie and web series lovers like me.

I am really finding it very exciting indeed to explore the contents of Indian Cinema in all its flavours and also world Cinema of different cultures and languages.

I had heard a lot about Mohan Lal and his acting prowess. I got to see him at last in a memorable character. It was not over the top nor too understated. Court room dramas tend to be theatrical at times but Director Jeethu Joseph has kept the script technically strong and realistic. More so, as it very clearly reflects the tendency of the judge to be a little swayed by senior and famous Advocates, their pleas and their dramatic moves to tilt the case in their favour. At first, the judge was clearly not convinced by the Prosecutor but in the face of undeniable and legal proviso backed additional and fresh petitions/findings he has to admit the counter arguments and exhibits.

Incidentally, after a string of unsuccessful releases, this is a come back movie for Mohan Lal. Neru is a commercial success as well as critically acclaimed film. It is the third highest grosser Malayalam film of the year and fifth highest grosser Malayalam film of all times.

I have not studied law. For fifteen years my job has involved certain amount of investigative and quasi legal work. Undoubtedly, I have an interest in the subject. Also, no doubt, such movies which tend to be strongly scripted, technically sound, backed by purity of subject and superbly executed are a treat to watch.

Shared with Mouthshut.com

Posted by on January 27, 2024 in FILM REVIEW, FOR A CAUSE, OF HUMAN QUEST, OPINION, Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , .

2 Comments

January 26, 2024

Homage To Motherland – A Song


Listen to the most recent episode of my podcast: Hail Motherland https://anchor.fm/geetashree-chatterjee/episodes/Hail-Motherland-e2ev7ie

Today is 26th of January – the 75th Republic Day of India. On this day the Constitution of India came into effect in the year 1950.

Its a fitting day that I am reminded of our National Song – Vande Mataram – which literally means Worship Thy Motherland. The song is written in ancient Sanskrit – mother of all languages. The writer is the famous Bengali literateure Shri Bankim Chandra Chattopadhyaya. The song was written in 1875 when India was still under British rule.

I give a gist of the meaning of the song which is not a transliteration but the summary of the thoughts behind the song :

“The song hails India, the Motherland, which is full of the beauties and bounties of Nature. Her nights are bejewelled with silvery moon shine. Her breeze is redolent with fragrance of flowers. She has a mesmerizing smile and her words are sweetness itself. Her land is so fertile bearing the fruits, cereals and vegetables of the soil. That is our Motherland whom we bow down to!”

It was customary for us to learn the song in school and sing it on every ocasion of national importance.

Today, my patriotic heart, could not resist singing the song again to myself though my voice is gone and age has taken over my breath. Still.

Hope you like it.

Incidentally the song is set in Raga Desh. The word Desh also means country. But the personality of the Raga is Karun Rasa Pradhan, i.e., it has a melancholic strain to it.

However, the lyrics of the song has been so beautifully composed in the said Raga that it does not evoke sadness but induces feelings of devotion with notes of ethereal submission and surrender. As though the land is like our gentle Goddess-like mother and we are all her devotees.

Listen and let me know how you feel about it.

Please do remember my singing was an act of impulse and not properly rehearsed and prepared.

So, please do excuse the flaws.

Posted by on January 26, 2024 in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , .

5 Comments

January 25, 2024

Waiting …


What do you enjoy doing most in your leisure time?

In silence…

It’s freezing outside.

Foggy too

Grey…..smoky.

Streams of water trickle down the glass pane of the window. It’s not raining. Only the mist turning into water. Nothing else.

In this weather there’s no more to do but to sit by the room heater and read a spooky story or a gory murder mystery or watch a movie or series of the same genre.

Yet am not doing anything of that sort.

My socks feel wet.

Why?

I haven’t been on wet alleys.

Then ?

I bend forward to find out.

Patches of blood….blackish….dry. No fresh…crimson red.

On the back side.

No…I haven’t left my footprints (without shoes ??) on any blood pool blanching a multiple stabbed body.

I haven’t either done someone in (Oh! Although how I wish to!) In the dead of a misty night.

Then?

Chill Blain.

In the biting cold of extreme winter the toes get swollen like blushing cherries and itch hard. You itch and itch till they crack open and ooze out messy gore soaking the feet, socks, the helm of your thermals as though you have just walked out of a macabre murder scene in a state of haze!!!

😁😁😁😁

In such crippling weather when you have plenty of leisure but not much of a mood to go suck in the chilling wind out what do you do?

I cook up weirdo stories like these.

What else?

I wrote it in my mother tongue.

Then thought of sharing it as an answer to the prompt.

Those who wish to visit my Bangla blog the link is given below along with the transcript!! 🤪🤪

Enjoy!!

http://vanderloost.blogspot.com/2024/01/blog-post.html?m=1

চুপচাপ ।

বাইরে প্রচন্ড ঠান্ডা।

কুয়াশায় ঘেরা।

ধোঁয়াটে।

কাঁচের জানালাটা মাঝে মাঝে জলের ধারায় ভিজে যাচ্ছে। যেন বৃষ্টির ধারা ঝরে পড়ছে। আসলে কুয়াশা জলের ধারায় পরিণত হচ্ছে । আর কিছুই নয়।

এইরকম আবহাওয়ায় হিটারের সামনে বসে ভুতের গল্প বা রহস্য রোমাঞ্চ উপন্যাস বা টিভিতে এরকম ধরনের সিনেমা বা সিরিজ দেখার মরশুম।

কিন্তু কিছুই করছি না।

পায়ের মোজাটা ভিজে ভিজে লাগছে।

কেন?

আমি তো জলে যাইনি।

তবে?

ঝুঁকে দেখি একরাশ রক্ত।

পায়ের তলার দিকটা।

মোজা ভিজে গেছে।

না কোনো রক্তাক্ত খুনের সীনে পায়ের ছাপ ফেলে ( জুতো ছাড়া ?) আসিনি।

কাউকে রাগের বসে নিশুতি রাতে ঝোপ বুঝে কোপ মারিনি।

তবে?

চিল ব্লেন…

কনকনে ঠান্ডায় পায়ের আঙুলগুলি ফুলে চুলকুনি হয়। চুলকে চুলকে ফেটে রক্ত বেরোয়। 

তারেই কয় চিল ব্লেন ।

ওই আর কি!

এই হাঁড় কাঁপানো জানুয়ারি মাসের শীতে বাড়িতে আটকে থেকে একটা রোমহর্ষক পরিস্থিতির সুচনা করলাম।

আর কি!!!🤪🤪

এখন একটু খানি রোদের ঝলক দেখা গেছে।

দেখা যাক কতক্ষন থাকে।

ঠান্ডা কমে কিনা।

তার সঙ্গে চিল ব্লেন । 🤞🤞

#বাংলাব্লগ #আজকেরডায়েরি #শীত #রক্তাক্তব্যাপার #রোমহর্ষক

Posted by on January 25, 2024 in Leisure, Mystery, Weird and tagged , , .

8 Comments

January 22, 2024

Love Logic And Law


Do Love and Logic go together???

I have got to share this most amusing piece of incident that happened with me very recently.

My third floor neighbour’s daughter is into Tarot and all sorts of card readings. I was very worried about my finances and health post retirement. So I had asked her mother to request her daughter to do a reading for me.

It was quite some time back when I was heading towards retirement. My neighbour asked me to wait because her daughter has to get into the exact and ideal state of mind to do the reading. It was just a casual request on my part. So it didn’t make much of a difference to me if she took her own time.

The girl is one of those serious, sober and introvert type. Very beautiful like her mother. She never used to wish me whenever we met. I could make out that it was not out of indifference or lack of manners but just that she was not the type who would talk to anybody whom she did not know very well. Incidentally, I came to know she refers to me as Rinky ‘s (my pet) mummy. 😂😂

A few days back, Simi, the girl’s mother, called up to say that her daughter had finally found the ‘moment’ to see my card. She wanted to talk to me alone and in confidence. Though the conversation was on mobile Simi told me she was walking out of the room to leave her daughter to herself. Even if she had not it wouldn’t have perturbed me. My life, as is said, is an open book.

Krittika, her daughter, is in her early twenties. She was apologetic that she couldn’t take time out to read my cards early. I told her it was absolutely okay as I was in no hurry. Then she embarked on what she had read about me, my present state of mind and what I intended to do but was not very sure about. Her readings were quite correct. Her assurances gave me a lot of solace and I am thankful to her for that.

But then came the jolting part. She said she had consulted different sets of card which indicated a romantic entanglement in the offing. I burst out laughing. I said I was sixty – not a suitable age for romance. Secondly, I did not have anything of that sort in my mind or life. Thirdly, I was not built or inclined that way, in fact, never was. But the dear girl was so excited about the whole idea that I did not want to make her feel bad by saying anything rude or offensive. So I tactfully veered the subject towards finance, health, spirituality and so on and so forth.

Now that brings me to the subject I wanted to talk about – romance in later part of life. In our society, there is an age for everything. Romance leading to marriage or otherwise at my age is almost unthinkable and a topic of malicious gossip to say the least in middle class society. Not that I care for that but my concern is something else.

I love romantic songs, films, poetry, stories et all. It is something Utopian which exists in a different world for somebody else and not for me.

I have never been romantically linked. (Most have been scared of me and those who have mustered courage to stutter their feelings have been put in their place right away).

I really do not believe that the heart can so called go fluttering for all practical purpose if you happen to meet someone who is a subject of your desire. It is something which takes place in mushy novels and movies. I am ready to believe in created situations but not in real life.

The problem with me is I have to be mentally convinced of my feelings in any situation. As far as the notion of romance or love goes it is said to be something which just happens. Now how can anything just happen? How do you come to know that it has just happened? I mean there has to be a logicality when one gets convinced that one has actually fallen in love. Now how does anybody arrive at that conclusion?

You see my problem…

I have to cerebrally understand the feeling if I were to really believe that I am in any kind of romantic embroilment or simply in love. But I have read and told and given to understand that love and logic are anathema. They do not go hand in hand. Well then that is confusing, isn’t it?

Conclusion – am the most unromantic person constitutionally.

As far as the dear girl’s reading to that extent goes I am supremely doubtful.

As far as age goes I think the concept of togetherness evolves. There is nothing wrong in looking for companionship or compatibility. If somebody wants it society as such should not hold a bar to it.

But if one chooses to be a loner then one should be left alone and not pestered unnecessarily. I guess I have always wanted to be in tranquil silence at the end of the day. At times, to be very honest, I do not even wish to talk to my near and dear ones. If that sounds ridiculous so be it…

Now comes the law. Laws have been brought about to bring cohesion and order in social life. Agreed. There are certain norms which should be strictly followed. But if there are exceptions to the rule then? Should they be the brunt of ridicule and castigation?

In this context, yesterday I binged on a limited episode Korean drama “The Bequeathed”. It’s a thriller. So I don’t want to spill the beans and be a spoiler. But the climax made me sad…very sad indeed! It raised questions which require to be looked into.

Does being civilized mean conformity to certain encoded and assumed social behaviour?

Can’t there be deviations?

Do deviations always implicate social degeneration?

There are so many other types of degenerative behaviours we live with and tolerate. Do all degenerations have antidotal corrections?

Do these correctives always work out?

Well the web series, in question, made me unhappy for all those characters who were unhappy and unsure in the narrative.

I wish it is seen and thought about.

The series is on Netflix with some outstanding performances. The names are unpronounceable. So I am not going into the characters or storyline.

On the aside, let me tell you all that I am getting quite hooked to K-dramas.

By this time, I guess you all have got me. It’s all intellectual overthinking (including feelings) for me. I think this is why I cannot pursue Arts. Music was one of my disciplines. It is supposed to be natural. But I had to mentally conceive it. Resultantly, I could not really attain the level of perfection I was supposed to.

Therein lies my shortcoming.

So, sorry guys I just can’t….

P S: Krittika smiled and said hullo to me yesterday evening. We found lots in common between us during the reading. Sweet girl. Lots of blessings for her.

Posted by on January 22, 2024 in A SHORT ESSAY, Confession, Funny and Weird, I ME & MYSELF, MUSINGS, OF HUMAN QUEST, OPINION, REVELATION and tagged , , , , , , , .

5 Comments

January 11, 2024

Memories And Lots More



We create memories by not forgetting…

There are certain films which are outstanding and accolade worthy. There are certain films which are great entertainers. There are certain films which are unforgettable classics. And then there are certain films which just soak into your soul so deep that they wordlessly become you. Three Of Us is one such movie.

Shailja Desai (Shefali Shah) is diagonosed with dementia in her middle age. She decides to leave her job. Her husband, Dipankar (Swanand Kirkire) is an insurance agent. Their son is studying in IIT away from home. One evening, Shailja requests her husband to take leave from office and go for a short trip to a small town in the Konkan region where she had spent a few years of her childhood. Though surprised and not knowing about this part of his wife’s past, Dipankar agrees to undertake the journey with her.

The film revolves round Shailja’s stay in this laidback town for a few days where she had spent the most memorable as well as traumatic years of her life. This is also the town where her childhood love (they were in the same school/class), Pradeep Kamat (Jaideep Ahlawat) lives and works as a Bank Manager. Pradeep is surprised to meet Shailja who visits him in the bank. They are meeting after twenty odd years. Thereon the narrative revolves round the three of them (Shailja, Pradeep and Dipankar) – the places Pradeep and Shailja frequented as mates, the house Shailja lived, the sea shores where a sea witch was rumoured to be, the temple where they went for worship.

The town has not changed much. The towners lead simple lives. Pradeep is one of them – not very ambitous, peacefully married, his wife being his best friend, with two growing children. But it is Shailja’s come back which rekindles the poet in him. At the same time he embroiders a beautiful wrap for his wife which they humorously call ‘bribe’ for letting Pradeep spend time with Shailja.

On the other hand, Shailja relives every moment of her childhood in each place of the sleepy town she visits. Her eyes lit up. Her husband has never seen her so happy before. At the same time, Shailja has to confront the ghosts of her past. She has to seek forgiveness and come to terms with herself and her past.

Dipankar, is a simple man. He accompanies his wife because he feels it is his duty. But he can also figure out the difference that Pradeep’s presence brings in Shailja. How she comes alive with him. How happy she is with him around. How they understand and appreciate each other. Yet they are just childhood friends Their adolescent friendship may have flourished into something more intimate had Shailja’s family not suddenly moved away from the town after an accidental death in family.

Dementia is a subject close to my heart. My mother is a profound dementia patient. It is not curable, preventable or curbable. We don’t know when mother developed the symptoms. It became pronounced only after her post cancer surgery. That was in her eighties.

In Shailja’s case it is in mid life. She is traumatized when she is not able to recognise people known to her. She knows her memory is short lived. Yet she wants to free herself of her demons. She wants to savour every remembrance of the most significant part of her life. She wants to enjoy her tactile association with the littlest object with each passing moment. The sultry spray of the sea, the school desk on which love sign is carved, the lush groves where she used to spend time with Pradeep, the merry go round in the fair where Pradeep comes to know of Shailja’s mental state, each sharing some part of their past with the other which they did not know earlier. It’s a simple, innocent but at the same time very personal reunion. But there are moments when one can feel the spark that Pradeep still ignites in Shailja, especially, the frame where Pradeep is driving the car with Shailja sitting next to him and Dipankar at the back seat – the ‘other one’.

It’s sweet and very understanding of Pradeep’s wife to accept Shailja because she is not just his wife but also a friend. It is natural for Dipankar to resent Shailja and Pradeep’s chemistry and togetherness. But the narrative does not thrive on the envy or pathos of a love triangle.

Rather the story is about creating memories and holding on to them as long as possible. The script does not dwell on Shailja’s plight or patheticness. But it very subtly emphasizes the fright, emptiness and meaninglessness of a person’s life without the ability to remember. It jolts the viewer up with the sudden awareness that life is nothing but a kaleidoscope of remembrances which make us joyful as well as remorseful, sometimes guilty and sometimes immensely forgiving.

The shot where Shailja shyly confesses to Pradeep that the next time they meet she may not be able to recognise him is just matter of fact. But what makes the scene unforgettable is Pradeep’s reply, “Never mind! I will remember.” There is no promise of a future. When Dipankar invites Pradeep and his family to come over to their place in Mumbai, Pradeep is uncertain whether he will ever keep that invitation. His uncertainty itself is the hopelessness of the situation itself which does not hold any promise of a tomorrow.

But Three Of Us is not a sad tearjerker of a love story. It’s just vignettes of life caught in the lens of the mind. It let’s the viewers hope of a better tomorrow, one of those magical possibilities that life is made up of but it also reminds that miracles are the rarest of rare happenings. One can pray for but can never be sure of one. Three Of Us is an experience of experiencing life with all its flaws, vacuums, absences and also its serendipities, unexpectedness , anticipations and moving on with all its calamities and calming revelations.

Much has been written about the successes and failures of the film. I will not weigh the narration’s cinematic value. Words fall short of lauding Shefali Shah’s tremendous performance. She is not Shailja. She becomes Shailja. Her every moment’s realization that every moment of her life is ephemeral, transient and a step towards irreversible forgetfulness can only be seen to be believed. Her indescribable fear of not recognising people apparently known to her cannot be portrayed in more scarier manner than her startled silence which is evocatively more verbose than a pitiful and reluctant confession.

Jaideep Ahlawat is again a surprise! After the clumsy sociopath and mathematical genius of Jaane Jaan, he is startlingly understated as Pradeep Kamat. However, Swanand Kirkire as the husband who increasingly realizes his ‘unsuitability’ to a woman who has more depth and an unshared ‘past’ indubitably does justice to the character.

Three Of Us is an Aravind Allu presentation. The film is directed by Avinash Arun. He is also the cinematographer. His stunning narration through the eye of the camera upscales the work of art that this award winning and critically evaluated film is.

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Posted by on January 11, 2024 in Uncategorized and tagged , .

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