Friday, June 30, 2006

dreaming yellow

Lévy-Dhurmer, Vent d'Automme - Portrait de Mlle Suzanne S.
[Autumn Wind - Portrait of Ms Suzanne S.]

Dreaming a little dream,
Of a yellow Autumn day,
Of a yellow orange road,
I’ll never walk down,
Of a pretty little face,
I’ll never know.

The trees, standing tall, inviting,
Shedding yellow and orange all over,
Trees with beautiful names
I’ve read of in the books,
Beaming bright than ever
When she turns and looks.

I’m walking down that road
With wooden fences right and left.
I’m breathing in the morning breeze,
Speaking of life new, smelling yellow.
I’m watching the butterfly dance,
Around her golden glow.

[So it’s not much of a poem! Big deal!]

goodbye Argentina

Argentina lost last night on tie breaker to Germany. I should be happy. I was too for a brief moment when I thought about the look on the bearded guy’s face in the morning. Well,…not feeling that way now. Some guys, upset Argentine fans it seems, tore down all the posters and pictures the bearded guy hung on his wall. I feel bad for the poor fellow now. He spent a lot of time and effort on putting those up. He’d bring in new posters from time to time, put ‘em around his flag and then cover them with plastic sheets so that they don’t get wet in the rain. Many a time I have seen him standing and looking at his handiwork affectionately very late at night (around 3 am in the morning). The boys shouldn’t have trashed it like that.

[My cam got banged up so couldn’t post a better picture.]

In a way the bearded guy was a lot like bloggers. Just that instead of html pages, he pasted his stuff on that wall. You could tell he was having fun. He even made a shade and hung a light so that people could see them at nights. And people did. In the afternoons I have seen kids (big kids too) gather in front of the pictures and point out their favorite players. “See! That’s Messi, the new Maradona!”. “Theres Sorin! My Hero!” – kids liked those pictures. Man! I am almost feeling ashamed to have put the Brazil flag on top of it before. Poor guy!

Thursday, June 29, 2006

Dr Lutfur Rahman - An Inspiration

The other day during lunch ma was telling me about this doctor whom she saw on TV the day before. She really liked the doctor. She told me he seemed sincere, honest and kindly. She however, didn’t say such nice things about a certain lady (not the hostess) present on the show. “She couldn’t keep her mouth shut! She went on and on when nobody could care less about what she had to say.” She also told me to look up the Star Weekend Magazine which did a story on him a coupla weeks back.

It is obvious that the man is a genius. He is much more. He is what all doctors should be like around here. He sees his patients for free (He draws a monthly salary where he works). He takes money for the operations but even then he is extremely considerate towards the poor. In fact he openly offered his help to anyone who may need it. He makes it a point to treat his patients right. This is far from the common practice in this country.

We only think, talk and write about things that are going wrong in this country. Here is something going right! Dr. Rahman set an example that I’m sure many others will follow. There is hope yet. Eh? :D

my roommate

I don’t think I mentioned my roommate, Abidur Rahman in any of my posts. Well, he is a cousin of mine who is a couple of years younger than me. And he is quite a character! I’d have to write a book about this guy some day. For now, here is a picture which says a lot about him.

The artist is Turjo, the sixth boy in the family. I’d say his membership into the men’s club is now confirmed.

[Abid says: “Bash kete chete nileo bash e thake” (Even if trimmed, a bamboo is still a bamboo) Go figure :p]

Saturday, June 24, 2006

Meaning of Life (?)

I’ve been obsessed with blogs lately. (Still didn’t get back to work you see…) Been reading up on all sorts of blogs. I came across one that deliberated on the meaning of life, a question that everybody has asked, one time or another in their lives, and then came up with an answer that they can accept or have concluded that its not worth the trouble and moved on or have wasted more time on it than they should have and then ended up on the same line with the others. One thing is for sure, there hasn’t been an answer to that has been universally shared or accepted by all who asked it.

The post I stumbled upon was rather serious. Of course I didn’t get most of it. (mental note to self: shoulda stuck to porn sites that are more suitable for a person with my level of intellect). Anyhow, I got to thinking about it my way and remembered that I had read something about it once that kinda made sense. I’ll be sharing that with you. For further research on the topic(the bum way) watch Monty Python’s THE MEANING OF LIFE.
[Caution: Don’t watch it if you don’t have a thing for nonsense. ;)]

“For the same uprush of fancy which had shown him with all the force of mathematical demonstration that life had no meaning, brought with it another idea; and that was why Cronshaw, he imagined, had given him the Persian rug. As the weaver elaborated his pattern for no end but the pleasure of his aesthetic sense, so might a man live his life, or if one was forced to believe that his actions were outside his choosing, so might a man look at his life, that it made a pattern. There was as little need to do this as there was use. It was merely something he did for his own
pleasure. Out of the manifold events of his life, his deeds, his feelings, his thoughts, he might make a design, regular, elaborate, complicated, or beautiful; and though it might be no more than an illusion that he had the power of selection, though it might be no more than a fantastic legerdemain in which appearances were interwoven with moonbeams, that did not matter: it seemed, and so to him it was. In the vast warp of life (a river arising from no spring and flowing endlessly to no sea), with the background to his fancies that there was no meaning and that nothing was important, a man might get a personal satisfaction in selecting the various strands that worked out the pattern. There was one pattern, the most obvious, perfect, and beautiful, in which a man was born, grew to manhood, married, produced children, toiled for his bread, and died; but there were others, intricate and wonderful, in which happiness did not enter and in which success was not attempted; and in them might be discovered a more troubling grace. Some lives, and Hayward's was among them, the blind indifference of chance cut off while the design was still
imperfect; and then the solace was comfortable that it did not matter; other lives, such as Cronshaw's, offered a pattern which was difficult to follow, the point of view had to be shifted and old standards had to be altered before one could understand that such a life was its own justification. Philip thought that in throwing over the desire for happiness he was casting aside the last of his illusions. His life had seemed horrible when it was measured by its happiness, but now he seemed to gather strength as he realised that it might be measured by something else. Happiness mattered as little as pain. They came in, both of them, as
all the other details of his life came in, to the elaboration of the design. He seemed for an instant to stand above the accidents of his existence, and he felt that they could not affect him again as they had done before. Whatever happened to him now would be one more motive to add to the complexity of the pattern, and when the end approached he would rejoice in its completion. It would be a work of art, and it would be none the less beautiful because he alone knew of its existence, and with his death it would at once cease to be.”
- Maugham, W. Somerset, Of Human Bondage

Thursday, June 22, 2006

A beautiful blog

I have come across this blog which is very different from the regular blogs we know. I asked the owner if I can link it from my blog. She did not respond but I am going to take that as a yes since I really want to share it with all you people.

So here is Leading Five Lives. I am sure many of you will love it. :)

breeding psychopaths

A student of class 7 wanted make some money and figured the best way to do that is by killing his classmate. Things went according to plan for the most part. Only instead of just one, he had to slash three throats. Now do keep in mind that he did not plan on killing all 3 in the beginning; it just happened.

Now only the weak at heart made a fuss about it. The policemen did not seem to be too worried about the whole thing. The person in charge blamed the working mother for not looking after her kid as she ought to. She shoulda kept an eye on him, find out what kind of friends he is hanging out with. The police had nothing to say about the killers’ guardians though. I guess he did not think there is anything wrong with them. Its obvious it all happened cause women go out to work and not stay home as they should. Btw, all three victims happen to be A students with good reputation all around. But I guess their mothers get no credit for that.

Then there was the landlord and the landlady. The TV cameras were there and the landlady appeared on the scene wearing heavy make up to comment on the incident. She is not just a pretty (?) face and she made sure everyone understood it from her ‘intelligent’ remarks. She and her husband saw it fit to go on and on about how the kids are always addafying, making noise and using the computer all the time. They were obviously trying to hint at something. Most probably they were hinting at porn. (The subsequent investigations did not reveal any connection with porn. But what if there was porn in the kid’s PC? Would it indicate that he wasn’t such a good kid after all? Even though he hangs out with good kids and gets good grades? I mean he is 12! Isn’t he? Anyhow, that is not the issue.) I guess we have to accept that there will always be all sorts of people around us who’d see no harm in talking about all sorts of crap in a house where somebody just tried to murder 3 kids.

Now, lets have a look at the killers. It turns out that the mastermind behind the plot was a classmate of the 3. Now he is a piece of work. In his interview he seemed neither unnerved nor out of wits while talking about the incident. I wonder what he is gonna be in a few years. He is probably going to be sent away to a juvenile correctional facility. He is a killer now. By the time he gets out of the kooler he is gonna become a monster for sure. Oh well, I guess there is always use for that sort. Gonna make some people really rich before dropping dead in a crossfire somewhere.

Now some folks, obviously weak at heart, got upset about the whole mess. They got together and tried to find out how this sort of thing can happen within the society. (This is hardly the first time.) They id’d all sorts of sources, - the violence in TV, video games, student politics and all that. They did seem rather anxious.

Well, what do I know about stuff but I say its not just the TV. I mean why wouldn’t people want to kill each other off? Cause its immoral? Cause society forbids it? How is it doing that? What exactly are parents, teachers and schools are teaching us about showing empathy and compassion to our fellow men? I mean the schools are only asking people to study cause they’d need the degrees to beat others to decent jobs later on. Parents are always worrying about the grades and never about the stuff children are actually learning at schools. At home the kids are watching their parents buying stuff their salaries can’t afford, lying and bribing their way to get ahead. The ones who don’t see all that neat stuff lying around are wondering what their parents are doing wrong. On the streets the kids watch people pushing and shoving to make way. Busses would much rather run people over to beat the competition than wait a couple minutes. In the schools kids find their teachers behaving like animals, treating them like animals. They watch them shamelessly advertise their private tuitions; for a bit of cash they’d get you better grades. Weren’t they supposed to do that anyway? Same goes on in the public hospitals where doctors don’t care if a patient dies on their watch as long as they are putting that time to good use, making enough from private practices. Theres no use talking about all sorts of irregularities in public offices, everybody knows about those. Everybodys at it, more or less, everybodys had a taste. Now what could you expect from the children of these people?

In the end you are measured by the size of your purse and words like ‘honesty’, ‘integrity’ and ‘morality’ are just elements of literature. Why wouldn’t a kid consider slaying somebody for 5 thousand bucks? A good days work and he’d be 5k richer. No use blaming the TV. Something else handed him the razor. TV just showed him how to make the cut.

Sunday, June 18, 2006

Asterix the Gaul

Been too exhausted for movies or books. So got myself a bunch of Asterix to read in bed. Turned out to be a real good idea; laughed my ass off! Will have to get myself a new batch ASAP. Too bad the English ones are too expensive. Thankfully, it seems the Bangla ones are just as good! Ananda Publishers really did a good job with these!

People who used to read these in school, its time you read them again. Its worth it! People who haven’t read any yet, - there is still time to save your souls! Run down to the bookstore and get some right now!

Saturday, June 17, 2006

Six - Nil

Argentina won again, 6-0 against Serbia Montenegro. God knows what the bearded guy is going to do! Heh! There goes all my plans to do all those wonderful, dreadful things when Argentina goes out of the tournament. Looks like they are gonna be here for a while. Brazil! Snap out of your high and start kickin butts already!

PS. The bearded guy just made a racket downstairs with his buddies. Thank God its raining so they could not keep it up for long. Or else it woulda been too much to take. :(

Monday, June 12, 2006


And I thought it was going to be a dull week, being sick and all. The world has turned upside down at work. Everything is falling apart. Has got nothing to do with my absence but has something to do with my incompetence for sure. Oh well…not much good talking about it now.

All good things end, sooner or later. Never better too much on the word ‘fair’ – got nothing to do with how things work. Still it all feels fucking absurd! There is no reason in this world. You can do everything right and still end up with a raw deal. The people who cant do anything right on the other hand are better off. For one thing they are never stressed since they are never working. They can just wait for others to finish their work so that they can chip in with their constructive criticisms and get patted on the back. All good and reasonable I’m sure. Just that it feels so freaking impossible when I think about it!

Anyhow, I’m sure it wont be too hard for me to live with this shame. I should be thankful that I am not a man of substance cause its obvious that they are the ones who take the pain, get things done and then end up with a bad deal.

an eventful night

Had the most amazing dreams and nightmares last night. Had amazing conversations; don’t know who with. At one point somebody said, “I see quote of arms everywhere! I must be James Bond!” and everybody laughed. Then somebody asked, “Why do friends in the night turn tricksters in the day?”. Cant make head of tail of these now but they made perfect sense in the dream.

Also in my dreams I posted two new blog entries, responded to two comments (I believe one of them was from Nowal) and read two blogs; don’t remember what they were about now but they seemed really interesting in the dream. Mental note to myself: Take some time off from blogs.

And finally there was the nightmare. I don’t have nightmares often so I dunno much about them. But this one sure was scary. I was looking for a case or something for somebody inside a dark chamber. Only the entrance to the room was lighted with the light in the corridors. I had no idea how big the room actually was or if there were other doors and windows to it. The floor of the room was packed with little boxes, arranged in beehive pattern. I was picking out boxes, holding them to the light and then putting them back again. Then I picked one that looked awfully like the ones they show in Hell raiser movies. And it did something funny too! I tried to put it back but it wont fit back in. I just couldn’t get rid of it. Then I woke up and saw the markings on the box before me in glowing silver. Looked upwards and saw the reflection on the window. Worked out a really weird explanation for all this. Heard someone moving beside me and felt better for a second. It scared the shit out of me when I remembered I’d been sleeping alone since I got sick! Then I woke up again for the second time.

Tried to analyze this:

Sickness à Stress à Death Thoughts à Whats Next? à What if there is Hell à Bummer!

A regular Fraisure Crane! Aint I? Well certainly as boring! Forgive me people. Cant help babbling when the temperature is on the rise. :$

Saturday, June 10, 2006

from the Sick Bed

Woke up in the morning with a 103 degree fever. Took a shower to get it down a li’l before taking painkillers. Was feeling pretty good by the time I finished breakfast and went to sleep again. When I woke up again for lunch the fever was back again. Now I don’t mind the fever so much but what I hate is the other things that ganged up with it. My neck’s been hurting like hell for the last coupla weeks, due to an accident which seemed rather fortunate at the moment. (Word to the wise, if you aren’t a teenager, don’t think you can act like one.) Also have this rather irritating headache all the time at the back of the head. To sum it up, it’s been rather uncomfortable.

So what do the wise do when they find themselves in a fix like this? I guess they think of happy places in their heads and go there and live happily ever after and so on. Tried that too – dint work. So figured I’d just lie there and stare at the walls, - just like old times. Used to be sick a lot when I was a kid. Got some sickly memories that I could do without. Anyhow, it wasn’t all bad I suppose. I remembered those nice little Russian children’s books that people would bring when they came to visit. Russia at that time used to print lots of stuff, including children’s books, in dozens of languages. I guess there were political motives behind this but the books were still very nice. And real cheap too! There were also Chinese ones but I liked Russian ones better. Don’t see those around anymore. Such a shame.

Anyway, I remembered this story about a little girl who was sick for months and nobody could figure out what was wrong with her. The doctors almost gave up hope. Then one day the little girl tells her that she wants to see a real life elephant. Her dad somehow manages to bring an elephant in the house. The girl spends a whole day with the elephant and gets better the next morning. Was a really nice book.

Caught the opening ceremony of the FIFA World Cup on TV! I dunno…felt a li’l artsi-fartsi but may be just because I dunno much about the local traditions and stuff. Caught the 1st game between Germany and Costa Rica. Goals Galore! 6 of ‘em and its just the first match! But I must say, other than the goals, there is hardly anything worth mentioning about the game.

I had a bet with my cousin a coupla weeks ago that if he can paint a Brazilian flag over the Argentine flag, which a certain bearded person from the opposite building took great pains to draw on the garage wall, and takes great pride in showing off, I’d pay him a thousand bucks. Now there are guards around all the time and it is not as easy a task as it seems. So I offered him a second option. He can make a paper flag and just paste it on top. Of course since paper can be easily torn off, I wont be paying him just as much. At 2 am in the morning it looked like the coast was finally clear. My cousins snuck out and committed the heinous crime! Can see it from my window – a job well done I must say. Cant wait to see the bearded person’s face in the morning! :D

[PS. I tend to babble a little too much when the temperature is on the rise. Please accept my sincere apologies and heartfelt condolences in case this post has bored you to death. Rest in piece, Godless, etc.]

Friday, June 09, 2006

Li’l Nowal

I believe I found the younger version of Nowal! Don’t take my word for it, read Of the World and Boiled Eggs.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

Cyrano de Bergerac

“Let’s call it my vice. It pleases me to displease. I love to be hated. If you only knew how stimulating it is to be under the murderous fire of hostile eyes, and how amusing it is to watch faces turn venomous with envy or sweaty with fear! The soft friendship that surrounds others is like one of those loose, floating Italian collars that leave your neck free to bend in all directions: you’re more comfortable, but your head is less erect. But the hatred that presses in upon me is like a starched Spanish ruff whose stiffness forces me to hold my head high.”
[Edmond Rostand, Cyrano de Bergerac, Act Two, Scene VIII]

“What’s that you say? It’s useless? Of course, but I’ve never needed hope of victory to make me fight! The noblest battles are always fought in vain!”
[Act Five, Scene VI]

I’m glad I made Syeed bring me back the book. Got my money’s worth and more. (That reminds me I still haven’t paid him back.) I am not in the habit of reading plays. I tried a paragraph from Shakespeare once and it felt as if all my teeth just fell off. Took me a lot of guts to try a play again. Good thing is, this one, probably because it’s a modern translation, was real easy. Of course there are words in it that I don’t know but it was crisp enough. I wonder what the original French version is like. Oh well…since I don’t know the language I might as well forget about it.

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

bad spell

“because in the protecting darkness, I dare at last be myself, I dare…What was I saying? I don’t know…All this…Excuse my agitation! All this is so enchanting…”
[Edmond Rostand, Cyrano de Bergerac, Act Three, Scene VII]

Not been feeling so well. A rather odd time to come down with a bad spell. Had a good many things going right. Once again I see the walls…Closing in on me…Walls coming to get me…Trapped and nowhere to run…I look for a way out and there is none…There never is. Anyhow, here is one from the scrapbook -

What comes of a day like this?
A day so bright and shiny
A perfect morning that promises a kiss,
Then lost in thoughts tiny.

At the end of the day all that is left
A tired body and the smell of sweat
What could come of a day like this?
Everything but the promised kiss.

What could come of a night like this?
Nights shortened by sleeping pills
Or in feeble words, trying to conceal
The fact; nothings left; nothing to feel…
No height to reach, no ride to hitch,
No place to stay but bills to pay

Lies! All! And all in vain!
So very pathetic these unworthy men!
Nothing comes of a night like this.
Not even…the promised kiss.

Friday, June 02, 2006

bird brains

[The ancient ritual of bird making: The chosen one is found and brought to the alter of sacrifice. The sacred pole and sacred ropes are brought to the ground before the arrival of the chosen one. The chosen one then spreads his arms like a bird. The arms form a 180-degree angle between them and are fastened tightly to the sacred pole. The chosen one, possessed by spirits is likely to exhibit vigorous displays of resistance. Bringing the sacred pole in contact with the head of the chosen one will calm him down. Once the preparation is complete, the following mantra is chanted in unison: “Shona chan pakhi, ami dakitesi tumi ghumaiso naki”. When the chanting reaches the appropriate decibel level, the last piece of garment from the birds body, (i.e. the pants on the chosen one) is removed. The chosen then becomes one with the nature feeling free and happy like a bird.

Note for ‘extremely intelligent’ readers: No sodomizing takes place during or after the ceremony]

Spending lazy time at home and getting bored. Smoking at regular intervals.

“Bro, guess wat happened on the bus yesterday”
“You saw a chick?”
“Yah! And the chicks just…looking at me…so I look too…and she don’t look away!”
“So wat happened?”
“Well…what do u mean what happened?”
“So nothing happened?”
“HUH! Wat have I been telling u?”
“Shut the fuck up”

[nothing for a minute]

“Prinka Chopra is real hot!”
“Oh yeah!”

[nothing for 5 mins]

“Say, lets make a bird.”
“Yea? Who?” – looks suspicious.
“Not you birdbrain! Lets do one on Titters”
“Yeah! Lets do it.”
“So wat do u need?”
“Need a stick and ropes.”
“Where do we get ‘em?”
“Somewhere in the house.”
“Well…who’ll get up ‘n get ‘em?”
“Lets ask titters”
“Yo! Bro…you gotta do something for us”
“Yea? Wat?”
“We need a stick and ropes”
“No way. Am too tired to go ‘n look”
“Well…in that case…may be we can do without. The thing is…we want to do a bird on you”
“Yeah…u c, we r bored and we really don’t feel like getting up and you are tired too.”
“Well…may be we can do without the gadgets u know…just stand there and do the bird thing and we’ll pull yr pants down.”
“Fuck u guys. I’m goin to sleep”


Didn’t go to work the other day. It was a good day, - cloudy and all; saw no point in wasting it. Went for a long rickshaws ride all the way from Dhanmondi to press club (switched rickshaws near Eskatan). Just like the old times! Only now I didn’t have to worry about how much money is left in the pocket. Thought about popping inside the painting gallery for a second then thought better of it. My brother came along and didn’t want him to regret it too much. The Muktijodhdha Jadughar (Martyrs Museum) was near by and its been a while since I’ve been there last. So figured we might as well pay it a visit.

I liked it before and I liked it now. Its one of those old two story houses that makes you feel good. There is a café in the courtyard in the back where people can sit and drink tea and reflect for a while.

As I made my way from room to room, looking at pictures, historical documents, fire arms and personal belongings of the dead, I tried to picture those chaotic times when the hopes and dreams of all became one. The time that called upon common men to make a stand and fight to the death. I stopped before the pictures of the heroes of the war, - the leaders who stood strong against all odds and came up victorious. Then I thought about how in the next ten years after the war many of them met violent deaths in the hands of their brothers in arms. What went wrong?

Looked into the eyes of the people in the pictures and wondered what kind of people they were. I tried to feel these men who were driven to become rebels and forced to fight an unjust war. I stood before the picture of Rumi. I never read the book by his mother Jahanara Imam that tells his story. I just saw a picture of a handsome young man who fought and died for his country long before my time. The picture is incredibly alive – tells a lot about the man in it. How can it all be for nothing?

Saw the bones of the dead, piled up inside glass boxes. Femurs on the bottom shelf, ribs, backbones and skulls on top. I looked into the hollow cavities of the skulls and thought about the events they witnessed. Did they take everything for granted like I do? Can they see us now?

Six million Jews, three million Bengalis, God knows how many Iraqis – shit happens. When its happens to us we run for it. When it happens somewhere else, we talk about it at tea parties. (May be one’d go, “Yea I know Hitler killed too many people and all but u gotta hand it to him…He knew what he was doing…If they’d perfected v2 on time, or didn’t have to go to Africa to help those stupid Italians or if the Japs dint step on US tail…you dunno what coulda happened. Hmm.”. At this stage his eye have gotten dreamy and all and he is feeling pretty good about himself.) China, the peoples republic and the US, the land of the free, stood by the military rulers of Pakistan and found the 71 genocide acceptable. Don’t get me wrong; am not accusing people. At the end of the day it is not the people, but the politics that justifies the means.