crap talk

Cant seem to shake off the stained ‘rusty feeling’ from ma mind. Its like the mind goes numb and dumb and you don’t even dare move the muscles in your brain cause it feels like they’d blow apart into tiny li’l pieces and get scattered all over the place. Not that it’d b too bad but you cant help worrying u’d have to get up and clean the mess yourself. So what do you do? You just sit and stare at the walls (guess what was on it) – not for hours but for the few minutes that you have in between jumping from one thing to another on the to do list. Not like the list makes any sense or getting you anywhere but its there, for the heck of it and right now its too scary to think about what really needs to be in it.

Things been happening. My world has changed in more than one way. Been complaining about the ‘same ol routine’ and now it feels real odd to be out of it.

Spend the weekend in a different way. Took a friend out to catch a show (a drama) with the cousins. Wasn’t much of a show if you ask me. I am all for loud humor but they’re all good. I’d say the whole thing was rather amateurish; like kids having the run in school plays. But what do I know! It was their 500 th or 1000 th performance, so there.

Been spending too much time on the phone like a teenager. Word of wisdom – it wont be the same, no matter how hard you try. Its not your fault; its just not your time. But then again…you do need to do stuff once in a while. Got to take someone out on a dinner. And it went rather well too. Love the fact that she’s rough around the edges and not a show off smoker (a real deal). Did I mention she’s cute? Just wish I had the energy to keep up with her.

Rudra left for Australia on Monday. Fucked work and met at NSU for the last time. (there’d be other times but those’d never b the same) For a coupla hours it was just like old times. Rounds of smokes and tea and crap talk. We had a good run at the uni. We were the tea stall gang the cools avoided, the cultured dreaded, wannabe’s pitied, and losers envied and the average liked. (Come to think of it strays made the gang) We had little in common except for the fact that we all ate like pigs and acted like ‘em too. Of course we were chickless for the most part but it wasn’t too bad. Yep! Had it real good while it lasted. And we wouldn’t have it half as good without Rudra.

Ever met anyone who’s never boring? Never has a bad day and would never talk about his personal crap? Who never smokes, or drinks or talks about sleeping with chicks and is still popular all around? The guys knew everybody and everybody knew him. Everybody’d confide in him and he’d put it on national TV the next minute and it’d still be all right. He’d never say a kind word or any of that ‘I’m here for you’ crap when you are down. But you know you can count on him when craps going down. He’d let macho men and tough guys talk big and let ‘em get away with it. If they only knew where that guy’s been to. LOL!

So we hang around NSU for a coupla hours and we went our ways. No fancy good byes. “Ok then…later”. – and that was that. Whats their to say? We’d keep up in msn? Kheks.

So long brother! See you soon.

Ismail Shammout - artist, activist, humanist

To Where..?

I’ve been reading about Ismail Shammout - artist, historian, activist, and compassionate humanist in umkahlil’s blog. The great Palestinian painter passed away on the 3rd of this month. May he rest in peace.

Umkahlil quoted this poem by Tawfiq Zayyad as a tribute to the late artist –

ALL I HAVE

I never carried a rifle
On my shoulder
Or pulled a trigger.

All I have
Is a lute’s memory
A brush to paint my dreams,
A bottle of ink.

All I have
Is unshakeable faith
And an infinite love
For my people in pain.

The Palestine Sunbird

ZB RULZ

http://zahidur59.spaces.msn.com

I work with this guy. He is the coolest, most creative SOB I’ve ever came across. Read his stuff. See his artworks. You’ll know what I mean. Praise him, curse him, worship him.

PS. He is also the most insensitive, sarcastic, heartless bastard I have come to know. Hell of a guy!

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!

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]

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

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.

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!

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. :(

Shame

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. :$

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.]

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.

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.

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.

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”
“Ok”

[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?”
[silence]
“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”
“Hah?”
“Yeah…u c, we r bored and we really don’t feel like getting up and you are tired too.”
“Hah???”
“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”

Remembrance

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.

Offerings

I can offer but little
But I offer it all –

The decaying body, battered and bruised,
Scars of defeat from battles unworthy,
The recurring dreams, dreadfully black and white,
Dreams devoid of reason, meaning or hope,
The blackened heart, faintly beating,
Freezing fast, going numb, dying,
The crocked mouth and wooden tongue,
Spitting feeble words; incoherent, inconsequential,
Can neither offer you the wine of life,
Nor the blissful poison of the night.

Yet, there are bits and pieces stashed away,
And some nights, the trapdoors give way,
And waves come rushing in, drowning all,
Light bearing row boats take the river of memories,
Candles are lit in the secret chambers of the heart,
And the dreams are no more black and white.
And the things that I write, on that night,
Sometimes strikes a cord or two.

That’s all I’ve got
And I give ‘em all to you.

Show me a sign

Show me a sign.

[the Earth shakes, buildings tumble, fish fall from trees, sheep stops bleeting. The ground breaks open and a neon sign emerges with the letters U W O blinking on it in red and white and a message saying 'Drink plenty of maple syrup']

Sigh! If only there was a sign...

weatherman's log

Its been a good day.

- woke up to find it cloudy - always a good sign. Went back to sleep.
- woke up again around 12. Found the boys in the living room. They just woke up and was already at it; the older two was beating up the youngest. Mom told me to put an end to it. I of course did not pay any attention to her.
- Proton came in while we were having breakfast. We were supposed to go with him to look at cars. We overslept. He got even easily enough; Told us he bought the car and it was waiting down staris. We hurried down the stairs and found him laughing his ass off when we came up again. To think they call him the good one in the bunch!
- Lost 3 games of 29 (a simplified local version of bridge played with half the deck) in a row. Add to that another two at night. Jesus!
- Rudra (a friend) came in at around 4. Went for pizza in the afternoon.
- Walked to Dhaka Uni campus in the rain. Stopped at the pet shops on the way. Almost bought a pair of baby bunnies. Not the white ones. These were brown with white patches on their chest; the cutest little things. One was all balled up trying to wipe something from its nose with its hands(?). Then we got to thinking who'd be feeding them, cleaning poo and all and decided to continue the walk, without bunnies.
- Had a good shower. Felt nice. Was soaking wet by the time we reached DU. Had tea at the tea stall opposite the library.
- Walked to the bus stop. All 5 of us agreed the chick walking up front has good bone structure. She was carrying an umbrella. We had a bet if it'd flip. It dint. Lost 10 bucks.
- Took the bus back to Proton's place. Played some more. The loosing streak continued.
- Putul apu's kid, our only nephew is getting cuter everyday. He has black bidi eyes and the cutest toes. I am not good with kids. So tried to look busy with the computer. But putul apu wont have it. Made us all take pictures with him.
- Came back home around 11. Got wet again. Wrote a crap poem. Spoiled the day.

Blooper: Called Anon a 'chu*m*****' (an F-word) in front of ma.

Mental note to myself: Dont try to write poetry. Ever!

MSN SUCKS

Something happenned today which brought back a lot of old memories. By 'old' I mean really old. Like 20 years old! Yep, talking bout childhood stuff. I dunno if you'd believe it but I used to be a pretty good kid. [Sounds from a henhouse on fire]

Ok! ok!! Keep your gutts in people. Dont go yack yacking all of it all too soon. Theres more. Hmm...yeah the thing is if your kids are half as nice as I used to be you'd be the luckiest parent ever. [Yea, yea, I'm funny. I know...now just shut your hole and lemme finish.]

Yea I know you guys dont come here to listen to me brag bout my childhood self. And yea I know the title says something else. I'll get to the point. Well...I was just lyin there after watchin a 2nd class, Indiana Jones imitation, lousy ass, crap movie and thinkin bout all sorts of childhood stuff...how I started out..and where I got to...and where I'm going...and what might have been, for better or worse and all that crap. Been thinking bout where I'm supposed to be...how, everyday, more and more tricks are becoming harder to pull, how its taking a lot more time to figure things out,...the way things from a few years back seems to be scenes from impossible dreams, you know...the whole deal. You all think like that once in a while. Dont u? U dont? Good for you! Teach me the trick. WILL YA? Hmm. Now whats all this got to do with MSN? Simple - Its hot, I'm tired and too darn pissed off to be thinking about crap for too long. Dint feel like sitting through another movie so figured I'd go online and chat for a while and take my mind off of things. Whaddu know! I just formatted the PC today so, there is no msn. Wait, wait...I usually keep an installer as a back up. But what the fuck!! Its an old version!!

The ones who arent getting whats all the fuss is about, I use a dial up which, in its best behavior, goes like 1kbps/sec. So dloading a new msngr is a BIG deal. You fortunate folks with your fancy net connections will never understand it. Never! Never!! Never!!! [wailing monkeys]

Anyway...somehow I get it over with. I got msn. I install it. Now just wait 3/4 mins to sign in and voila! The fuck! Its asking me if I want it to retrieve info from my provider!! The shitty thing was doing this shit while I was sitting and waiting and panting like a dog and sweating like a pig! u shittin me??

Theres more! I type in an URL on the address bar, clearly, and ask the stupid IE to just get me there. What does it do? The smartipant decides to do an msn search!! OOO! How nice!! Now who the fuck asked it to? Why is it wastin ma god damned bandwidth and time like dat? A freaking page takes about 5 mins to dload yo! That does it! I'm going Firefox!

The ones who dont get it please feel free to drop dead. I'm going to sleep.

Snaps and sketches

Havnt brought back much this time around from the trip. It was pretty short and most of it was spent on running around; two nights on the boat and 9 hours on the bus. Add to that the lunch hours and nap times. Aint much left of the 48 hours. Is there? There have been moments. Here are a few –

Masterpiece in the sky

[All the good boats were taken by the time we got there. The boat we took stank al over. It stank so much that we preferred staying inside the cabin over sitting outside and enjoying the river wind. Heaven took pity on us and decided to intervene. They had to switch off the power for ten minutes. We suddenly realized it was a moonlit night on the river. We got out of the cabin and moved to the front deck.]

The moon came out of the veil of dark clouds and shown its full face. It was more than just pretty. There was a solemnity about it that I haven’t quite noticed before. The adorning clouds seemed to fall into the trance and formed a halo around it’s head; the layers had all sorts of shades, - everything between faint gold, silver, black and blue. They twisted and curled up around each other. There was a profound religious feel about the scene; I thought it’d look great on a church wall. Hold your gaze for long enough and you can make out the face of Christ on the moon. The winged angels are already on the layers of clouds.

[I guess scenes like these sometimes have a very peculiar effect on common men. I suddenly felt a rush of inspiration to talk about the river, how it’s waves have been flowing to the sea for ages and how they have been coming down from the icy peaks of the mountains, how mountains came to be when Earth’s face got wrinkled while cooling down, and then how water would evaporate from the seas, and get iced on the peaks of the mountains again, and how these elements are all just following the natural laws of physics and men, too small an entity before any one of them, have loved, admired, studied and defied them all and how some of it goes beyond the laws of physics and all sorts of shit. You can imagine the look on my cousin’s face after sitting through a lecture like that. I am not sure if it was this perplexed look on his face or the sprint of obscenity from a fellow passenger in a near by cabin that snapped me back to consciousness. I’m sorry to disappoint you but his ‘words of affection’ were not in fact, directed to me (which would be just as appropriate) but to a person (God have mercy on his soul) he had met the previous day in a cultural gathering. I must say I found it very refreshing.]

A night to remember

[It had been raining all evening. We ventured out a couple of times in the rain but never made more than 500 yards through the slippery paste on the road. Only made the hotel floor messy each time. It wasn’t until very late at night that we made it to the beach. It was well worth the wait.]

We heard the music well before we saw the sands. An orchestra of Sarinda, Khol and Mandira (instruments used in folk music). Mixed with the sound of the waves the songs gave off a somewhat unearthly resonance that put you into trance immediately. We sat down on the empty beach chairs a little away from the group of musicians. It was windy but the direction was right and we could hear the notes clearly from where we were sitting. It was a full moon and a full tide. The sky was a translucent blue which met the gray sea on the horizon. The waves came splashing white on the white white sands and all of it bathed in moonlight. With all these going on before the eyes, and the wind dancing around like crazy and the music playing in your mind, you find yourself gasping for breath. Your feel your heart chocking, twisting, tearing inside your chest, ready to burst out and shoot up in the sky at any moment. You don’t know what to call this but know that you should go with it while it lasts. You take off your glasses and the frosty view suddenly seems to make sense more than ever. Your body moves with the music without you knowing it. Tears roll down your face; you know not for what. You feel your soul lifting you up, carrying you over the waves and beyond the horizons, beyond the moon, across the skies and back. In that fleeting moment you see its face – the face of the immortal trapped inside your mortal being.

Weather Forecast

It is going to be very, very, very dry the next few weeks.

The Mule

I admire the mule
It’s earnest dedication at work.
No time wasted on feeble words,
No breath wasted on futile dispute.
No load too heavy
- The idea employee.

I envy the mule
Its naïve indifference
To things nice and things grotesque.
Never distracted by thoughts,
Never moved by emotions,
- The beast God disowns.

I pity the mule
It’s ever-yielding being.
It’s sacrifice of no consequence,
Its lack of grievance,
It pains me to see, that beast in me
- The beast not meant to be.

writing on paper

Writing on paper again, without the help of copy/paste, spellchecker and pretty characters. But am having a lot more fun.

When I was younger and knew even less words I used to have a lot of fun. Had to make do with whatever was there and they were still good for I loved them all. Now, with time, my ‘mastery over words’ but barely improved. Only the preoccupation with fancy words have added the stink of rat in everything I write.

But am here now, trying to let the pen loose and go with the flow.

it

Don’t ask me to label it,
For I do not have a name for it.
But I can assure you its there.
And with a judge and jury present here
I can swear it on my honor,
Or whatever is left there.

So what am I to do about it?
I’ll ask the cigarette I just lit.
“Nothing doing; just press DELETE.
Go in any deeper – you wont make it.”
May God bless you;
You wise emitter of smoke…

Suppose one day

Suppose one day
Come what may
I’d write that one song
And sing it all wrong
Over and over
All day long!

Suppose on that day
I’m gonna say
Goodbye to the lies
And look into yr eyes
And tell you to go fuck yrself
To get out of ma skies!

Suppose that day is today
And theres no other way,
So I’d dress real nice,
And have champagne on ice
Then for one last time
We’d roll the dice!

Since this wonderful day,
Gotta come somday,
Why make such a fuss?
Why not miss the bus?
Before the gig is up
Why not push the luck?

boring shit

I’ve been thinking bout stuff and they got me real frustrated. My frustration is two folds. You will find the first fold a trifle juvenile. Its quite silly actually. Well…might as well blurt it out. I cant figure out a thing for myself that someone else hasn’t written about already.

DUH! Weatheman’s no rocket scientist. So what else is new! - I KNOW! So lay off of it people! I am not talking about that. I am not talking about figuring out how a TV works or how you dope silicon chips to make semi conductors and stuff. I am talking about simple things you see, like what makes people tick, and what happens when they tick - meaning of life and all that crap. Ok? Hmm…so its that. I am mad that I cant feel, or sense or figure out a thing that somebody hasn’t explored already and written about more beautifully than I ever could.

Of course I didn’t just figure it out! I figured it out long time back the day I wanted to kick Robi Thakur off of the roof. There I was, standing on a perfectly nice roof on a perfectly nice evening with a perfectly nice heartache – something really new and painfully bitter and wonderfully dreadful – something truly unique that only I was privileged with and what do you know! - The old guy stole my exact thoughts and put them in a book a hundred years ago! Gotta hate the guy!

Anyway so that’s the thing. I’d been thinking about how humankind is the blend of day and night and that is what makes them better than angels and demons and that they don’t need to work too hard to go either way cause the best is actually in the middle and stuff and everything seem to fall in place along that line and was feeling pretty good about it too. Wasted a whole hour at work trying to put the above nonsense in words and whaddu know! It just had to be in the darn book I’m reading!

“that I belong with the strong-hearted who walk narrow and thorny paths where flowers are also to be found, amidst howling wolves – and singing nightingales.” [Gibran, Thoughts and Meditation]

There you have it in two lines and I wrote like 20 lines and they still didn’t mean nothing. This sucks! Well…still I guess I can console myself by saying that the age old truths, however simple and clear, tends to be misunderstood and misplaced by men and there is but no harm in repeating them. (Or taking a shot at it at least.) I can live with that.

And then the 2nd fold hits me and gets me down again. How does it happen when its all so simple! Why does men always discard the most obvious, simplistic solutions to go for a downright stupid one, which needless to say, is a lot more complicated? And why on Earth do they have to keep repeating it in regular intervals when history makes it clear that they aren’t good for anybody! Ok let me make it simple - take racism for instance. Here you see a thing that you call a man. It has two legs, two hands, eyes, ears, head and everything. Hey! It even smiles when you feed it, cries when you beat it and dies if you kill it! Just like you! But wait a minute, look at its skin! Its too white, or too black or eww! – Its brown! Now there’s a good enough reason to hate it!

Ok, another one. Most people thinks there is a God, and God is just, created all things, created all men to be equal, beat the crap out of the devil and kicked it out for bullying people, wants all men to be good, wants peace, wants everyone to be happy. Say, it seems everyone has got the same message from the lord! Hallelujah! Lets just all get down and do what he wants. But wait just a freaking minute! NO! Its not the same at all! His God asked him to face East and mine wants me to face North! Your God lets you eat pork and mine wants me to eat chicken! Her God loves vanilla and his one goes for chocolate! Now there’s a good reason to kill each other! But first, lets kill the kids! That’s a hell lot of fun!

Blackout

Blackout took the neighborhood a little after midnight. All electrical noises silenced at once. Once the momentary confusion subsides, and the eyes and ears get accustomed to the night, the mind begins to see, feel and sense things that are ordinarily overlapped by coarser ones.

First to be felt is silence. Gradually you begin to hear the gurgling of insects, the occasional name calling of house lizards, the flapping of wings of little bats and the squeaking of rodents. Add to that the monotonous tingling of a wind chime in one of the balconies up front; you’ll never know which one. At first they all seem random but slowly a pattern begins to emerge and they all fade into the background.

I can’t see the moon but there is moonlight. You can make out the outlines of trees, lampposts, telephone wires and TV cables silhouetted against the grayish forms of the buildings where people have retired for the night. There is no light in the windows to distort the landscape. The black of the night, the silver of the moon, the faint blue of the sky came together to form the perfect shades for the forms you see and the patterns in your thoughts.

A gust of wind makes its way from the direction of the road to the west. You can hear it coming through the alley moving dirt, dust and debris on its way. You can hear it come through the iron gates and flooding the walkways. The trees suddenly wake up and greet the wind. Some of the older leaves let go of the branches they clung onto for so long and goes with the wind. The younger leaves wave them goodbye. No tears shed, no long faces, no regrets. The wind moves to the east.

Silence fell for one brief moment before its broken by the sound of footprints. They are followed by the booming voice of the night watchman at the east gate – “ANYBODY THERE?”. “I AM HERE” – came the response from the west gate. Not annoying whistles, not scratching noise in electronic devices, not clang of metal on metal but human voices speaking words, communicating with and reassuring one another and many others fast asleep, wide awake or in a state in between.

May be this is an event of no consequence. Or may be these voices have just created a ripple in the night air and the wind will carry it away on her journey. May be, years later, in a different place, someone will stand under the night sky and lend his ears to the west wind. May be, just may be, if he listens for long enough, he will hear the voices calling; reassuring each other and myriad others.

You hear footsteps on the walkway that never bears footprints. You look towards the westward sky to look for your stars. A whisper is heard – “ANYBOY THERE?”

Speaking my mind

“I grieve to hear the language of the spirits prattled by the tongues of the ignorant. It slays my soul to see the wine of the muses flow over the pens of the pretenders.” [*]

Flea of dogs, freeloading parasites, slimy maggots – you who have armed yourselves with platinum tipped pens, trendy attires and the pretentious air of sophistication, do you feel the scorn of the poet in the above words? I think not. For you and your kind have not the heart to feel nor the faculty of mind to grasp the meanings of those words which have been told and retold, written and rewritten, in the pages of the books you industriously collect to decorate your living rooms. You learnt the words by heart but a dead heart that would forever fail to nourish the blood with the breath of life and truth in those words.

You are the sons of ‘Gabbers’. You take great pains to polish your speeches and choose your words carefully to impress others like you in society tea parties. You speak eloquently of things that are either of no consequence or of things that are, were, and will forever be out of your reach. How dare you frown upon the honest seekers of truth? How dare you question their words? They would rather go with obscenity than speak your language.

I am sorry my bottom feeding friends. I should not have been so harsh on you. After all spirits of the poets ask us to treat lowliness with kindliness. You are not to be loathed but pitied. You have been born to a soulless, truth less, worthless life, which will just go on, feed, procreate, perish and be forgotten. Your fickle self and feeble words will fulfill but one purpose – produce first-rate poo paper for your rich patrons for whom you so aggressively abused, mercilessly mutilated and shamelessly falsified the divine verses spoken by the rag-clad bearers of truth. Of course, in brief moments of clarity you understand that it is the blessed soul of the enlightened and not your well groomed behinds that God holds dear and your attempts to get even is but futile. May the lord take mercy on your souls.

Who am I to raise my voice against you? I am but one of many ‘oppressed by the clang of steel and clamor of factories.’ My words are as ‘heavy as freight trains and are as annoying as steam whistles’. It is true that like you I too have sold my soul on numerous occasions. Flashes of gold have blinded my eyes once too often. Never the less I say it with pride that every gold penny I take from the treasure chest of temptations, I put back with interest and the interest is paid in blood. Like many I was born with a wooden tongue and a soulless heart. But the spirits spoke to me and made me drink from ‘the cup of poetry that dwells in the soul’. It has given me the eyes to see the ‘fake messiahs’ in your midst; and that my friend gives me the right to stand here today and speak my mind.

“And you, the real poets, forgive us. We belong in the New World where men run after worldly goods; and poetry, too is a commodity.” [*]

[Kahlil Gibran, Thoughts and Meditations]

Beast in Me

[Guess there is the beast in everybody. Even in the sheep dressed in wolves clothing.]

The beast in me
Is caged by frail and fragile bonds
Restless by day
And by night, rants and rages at the stars
God help, the beast in me
The beast in me
Has had to learn to live with pain
And how to shelter from the rain
And in the twinkling of an eye
Might have to be restrained
God help the beast in me

Sometimes
It tries to kid me that it's just a teddy bear
Or even somehow managed
To vanish in the air
And that is when I must beware
Of the beast in me
That everybody knows
They've seen him out dressed in my clothes
Patently unclear
If it's New York or New Year
God help the beast in me
The beast in me

- Nick Lowe

A good day's work

Lets see what did I do today.

1. Fallen behind work again (no shit! That’s the price u pay to waste your time on shitty poetry)
2. Fooled around.
3. Caught the Shironamhin concert at BUET. It was worth the trouble,
4. Tried to break a puzzle and failed! Its all true. I am getting dumber everyday; brain cells dyin out all too soon. Been forgetting names for a while now. No wonder I’m writing crap all the time. L
5. Tried to write a simple program to verify the result of another puzzle. Guess my logic ran away with my mind.

Planet of the apes

RB and ZB in their natural habitat

Who stole the Great Wall of China?

I went to work today after four days to find ZB and RB playing with google Earth. It was 12 pm and they’d been at it since the morning. I couldn’t join them since I had too many emails + junk in my work mailbox (333 to be exact). When I went to check up on them at lunch time they were still at it. It seems they found everything in it except the Great Wall of China. They were pretty upset about it. The moon pictures really disappointed them which showed nothing. (This account of our ‘typical’ workday should give you an idea why the three wise guys are in constant fear of getting fired. :$) Then we got to talking about it after lunch. We pondered over the possibility that may be the Great Wall never really existed!.

(Dhang!)

Probably it was one of those longest successful hoaxes in the history of world. If it did exist, then why didn’t the moon picture reveal it like it was supposed to?

(Dhang!!)

Hmm...and what if there is no such thing as…as the MOON.

(Dhang! Dhang!! Dhang!!!)

Hehe…we aren’t fooled so easily you know! The disc in the sky? Moon, shmoon! Just get ZB a pc and he’ll make hundreds like it in a minute. It’d only need like…15 frames. Double that if you want to do a good job. So who put it there and why? Its obvious that whoever put it there also stole the Great Wall of China! They did it to cover up the most heinous, dubious, surreptitious plan in human history which is………………………………...well if we knew what it is then it wont be such a mystery. Would it?

But fear not good citizens of Earth. The three wise guys are on top of it and are going to get to the bottom of it, even if it means not doing any work till the very last day. They are gonna be all over it, till its all over.

if this is what hell is like I'm gettin off the bus

Its 4:30 am on a work night. Been tossing and turning on my bed. No sleeping pill in the medicine cabinet to end my misery. I’m not an insomniac. In fact my cous (the pretty one of the bunch) made a corny joke which had something to do with my wife leaving me because I go to sleep too soon after hitting the sack. Oh well…before you smartipants out there start getting ideas let me just tell you that thinking about the most obvious aspect of conjugal life, i.e. sex, is NOT what is keeping me awake tonight. What else is there? How about the insane heat wave that’s been keeping most of the Dhaka dwellers awake these days? And yes. Most folks here do not have air conditioning here. Sheesh! Now…where were we? Oh yes, was talking about my bed being too hot to sleep in. The best is yet to come. The pillow smells like somebody I used to know a long time ago. The timing is just wrong! Normally it’d make me feel all funny and stuff. But tonight romance is definitely not in the air. Its just plain annoying! Pffft!

goodbye gab

When we are kids it was easier to blend in. It was not because all children think alike – cause they surely don’t. It is probably because children are not as preoccupied with themselves as ‘mature’ adults. Kids don’t think about all that social crap that spoils it big time for everybody. Just get some kids together and they’d figure out things to do; They’d get along and play or they’d beat the crap out of each other but one thing is for sure – they wont be bored.

As we grow older we move out of the playgrounds to ‘broaden our horizons’. We conquer new worlds, redefine boundaries, befriend new faces and all. But sometimes as the world becomes bigger around us, our own personal space in it shrinks. You got hundreds of people out there who know you and think u r ok. But how many of them gets you? Ok so people don’t have to get you to be around you. Fine. But its nice when u meet somebody who does. Eh?

In the daytime you are out there, larger than life, making things happen. You aren’t doing them alone – you are surrounded by many. Sometimes you are on the lead. Sometimes you are following others. You build partnerships everywhere and if you are lucky most of them work out. Then after a while you move on to the next thing, form new alliances, build new partnerships. You shake hands with your old mates and promise to keep in touch. You write, call, meet up regularly for a while. Then one of you or both of you loose the number, or get busy with stuff, or leave the country. May be you’d bump into each other months later. Sometimes the reunion turns out great. You end up having beer together and talk about old times and go over the old jokes. Sometimes it doesn’t go so well and you exchange business cards in a hurry after a few awkward moments of ‘catching up’ and let out a sign of relief as you jump into a cab. Its all good and you get the hang of it easily enough. Its all good.

I am very good at good-byes. I handle them extremely well. I’ve seen enough come and go to worry too much about them. I’ll have to say good-bye to a friend soon and am not looking forward to it. Its been a while since a good bye got me thinking but it cant be helped; got too many jokes that worked.

Gonna miss you man. Hope you burn in Hell.

Portrait of a poet

“Here within prison walls confined I tune the lute of poetry
That sorrow bursting from my heart, transmuted into melody,
May sing a song to draw forth blood – that even from captivity
I may work wonders in the world, and build a tavern for the free

Thus shall I labour hard; hard labour cosorts with
imprisonment.
Bonds shall no longer choke my voice, and I will sing my
heart’s lament.”

- Ghalib, (Translated by Ralph Russell)

I don’t know much about Ghalib. Only that he was a great poet, and he loved wine, and women, and that he wasn’t very religious. Oh yeah, just found out that he used to write in Persian and Urdu.

You never completely get the original from a translation but I guess it makes little difference to folks like me.

Lennon's World

“Imagine all the people
Sharing all the world...”
John Lennon – ‘Imagine’

John woulda been pleased the other night if he went to the blogger help forum. Evidently there was a problem with the blogger’s main interface and folks from all over the world were facing a common problem, i.e., being stuck at 0% while publishing. At first I thought it was just my PC and decided to publish from home. When the same thing happened at home I went to blogger help to find out whats going on. It was a pretty sight in there, (as it is in all sorts of forums I suppose) – you got folks from everywhere – Israelis and Pakistanis, posting side by side, praying to the Blogger God. Well, I know its no biggie but for one brief moment it gets you thinking.

As it happens the blogger bug isn’t the only thing that united the people of Earth last night. I was chatting with a friend of mine in NY and she tells me its been raining everywhere. It was raining in Dhaka, in NY, In India, Canada and some other place she told me about. Could be Lisbon or Lebanon or London or some other place that doesn’t start with an L. I just cant seem to remember. :$

rebel without a clue

Last night on msn I signed in with the nick ‘rebel without a clue’. Dunno what I was thinking when I took it up. Shakia came online and laughed her ass off. Obviously she found the ‘rebellious’ me quite ridiculous. Then we debated the issue for a while. I WON. (That is I babbled way to much bullshit and she got exhausted)

Anyway, while I was at it, I remembered something I read a long time back. Here it is:

He with body waged a fight,
But body won; it walks upright.

Then he struggled with the heart;
Innocence and peace depart.

Then he struggled with the mind;
His proud heart he left behind.

Now his wars on God begin;
At stroke of midnight God shall win.

-- W. B. Yeats, The Four Ages of Man

If you feel like reading more - http://www.poetry-archive.com/y/yeats_w_b.html

To the real rebels out there, don’t let this turn you off. Just go on and do what you gotta do. Cause even if you as a person make no difference, your work may last longer than you think. If you cant seem to find a war worth finding, may be you are just looking too hard. There is a lot going on around you that the rebel in you can make better. Good luck and Godspeed.

V for Vendetta

“Remember Remember
The 5th of November
The gunpowder treason and plot.
I know of no reason
Why the gunpowder treason
Should ever be forgot.”

“We are told to remember the idea, not the man. Because a man can fail. He can be caught. He can be killed and forgotten. But four hundred years later an idea can still change the world.”

'V for Vendetta’, – good movie. By my standards of course.

If you don’t get that then get Crash. This one won an Oscar so wont be a total loss.

On Starlight

[So it rained a li'l]

I will not promise you,
The things I usually do,
Wonderful, beautiful, delightful little things,
Beads of pearls and emerald rings,
Nor enchanting moments, sublime dreams.
Instead I’ll be just me and you will be you,
I will, for once, keep it true.

The night is kind – its been raining.
Clock’s ticking – hour hand’s gaining
What is distance measured in miles?
But worthless data scribbled in files?
Skin on skin - still light years apart.
Pick a star my darling and give it my name.
Its yours forever – your own precious gem.

I’ll cross the seven seas, on starlight.
I shall go to thee, every night.
I’ll be one in the happy crowd – being fun and more,
I’ll be watching your feet, as they dance across the floor.
We’d smile and greet, when we meet at the door.
Some nights we’d be standing, on top of the old stairs,
And watch the skies above – layers upon layers.

Meet the pig

Heres something bout myself. I'm a pig and a happy one at that. Want proof? See below:

 

 

 

 

 

Heres another one.

Beware of labels

This is very weird. I am the type of person who is quick to label people, incidents or any other shit that comes my way. Still I hate labels more than I ought to. I think labels are misleading, deceiving and conceited. I see people running after labels all the time (including me), wearing the right cloths, assuming the right attitude and all. They work so hard on the label that they don’t have time to spend time on what the label was about. For example, lets consider poets, stereo types. They will almost always wear long hair, say stuff that may or may not have meanings, will have a weird look on their faces that’s neither here not there. Well, I guess I shouldn’t complain. They also write stuff from time to time.

Sometimes we use animals as labels. For instance, a lying, deceiving boy friend is often called a fox. Bad people are called wolves. Evil is labeled with bats. If u think about it, all those animals are quite nice. Cute too I must say. Just download pictures and see for yourself.

I think I am talking crap. Signing off.

At Mid Day

At mid day the weary traveler stood on the sandy beach of Equator.
He felt tired and dehydrated from his long journey under the sun.
Presently he found his way blocked by the enormous mount Decision;
Its steep granite walls offered no entrance.

On the left lay the vast sea of Illuminati,
Its blue surface glittered under the noon sun.
The foamy waves carried a message in a bottle –
“Ardent seeker, come to me.
I shall carry you far and away.
My waves will wash the dirt off of your tired body
The sea wind will purify your heart and
The brine shall heal all wound.
If you come, I will reveal to you
The mysteries of my depths.
If you be strong come!
Ride my waves.”

The vast expanse of the sea amazed the traveler.
He wondered with awe about the secrets it hides.
But the turbulent waves frightened him.
He had not the strength to go with tides.

Then he looked onto the right.
Where the woods of Life lay green and alluring.
“Come to me tired traveler.”
My trees will shelter you from the scorching sun
And bear you fruits.
I shall give to you the sweetest nectar and honey
For your thirst.
In me you will never be lonely.
Here you shall hunt and be hunted,
You shall serve and be served.
If you can live as one, come.”
The woods thus spoke.

The offerings of Life excited the tired traveler.
He marveled at the flora and fauna,
The chirping of birds and smell of wild flowers.
But he had not the heart to live as one.

Finally, from a shadowy corner of the woods,
Called out the quicksand of Truth.
“Traveler, you must come to me.
I know you. I have what you seek.
It is I and only I who have answers.
It is from me, that you came to be,
And to me you must return.
You have neither the courage to conquer the seas of mystery,
Nor the mind to be one in the circle of Life.
Still my child you have traveled far and have endured.
And now I shall keep you waiting no longer
Come now and I’ll reveal all.”

Trembling and shaking the traveler stepped in
He was aware of the consequences
But he knew now that there never were choices
For him and the likes of him.

When the sand came up to his waist he felt comfort;
His travel weary feet hart no more.
When the sand came up to his chest he felt healed;
The sore heart bled no more.
As the black sand oozed into his nostrils and
made way into his brain he felt felt suffocated.
But he knew it was not in vain.
Finally, submerged in the dark,
There were no more noises, no more pain.
And in the silence the truth was spoken in an audible whisper.
“Sleep now my son, this is it.”
And there were no more secrets.

Droplets in the Sea

Instead of fretting over how dull things are going, and planning on skipping a trip to do something ‘interesting’ back home, it is better to go on that trip. At least the ‘interesting’ thing to do doesn’t turn out to be wondering what might have been. Long story short, I am glad I went to the Sundarbans with the office folks. It was a very good trip. Good company, good food, good view all around.
And no! We did not see any tigers, that is, except for the ones on coffee mugs, posters and the documentary footage they showed last night. Frankly, I think it is better to be disappointed than meeting one of those cats face to face, who happen to have a nasty reputation for eating people. I am happy to be writing this blog today instead of turning into dried kitty liter in some desolate corner of the forest where nobody uses a laptop.

In the morning we took the boat to explore the canals, went hiking along the shore and through the jungle and jumped like babies each time we saw a deer, a fish or a bird. Believe me, they were well worth the occasional bee stings and fly bites. The beach was excellent; by far the most fun one I have ever splashed in. I thoroughly enjoyed the afternoon siestas on top deck; you’d love the wind up there.

 

 

 

 

After the sun went down we’d help ourselves to chilled beers and late at night, something stronger. The addafying went on till very late at night and everybody went to bed happy. On the last night we were a bit worried as we had almost run out of supplies but the last bottle turned out to be a god sent. We had the most amazing conversations on life, happiness, world politics, religion and what not! You know how these go; we’d go on arguing, agreeing, starting and abandoning threads and joking about the gravest of issues. The next morning I woke up with the sweetest hangover in my life and I enjoyed it with Jim Morrison, gazing at the soothing green on either side of the boat.

I was undoubtedly the happiest man that morning until I wanted to have a look at the poem I had written the second night on the boat.
Although I never got to read it a second time I was very much in love with it. It was one of those that come from the heart in the spur of the moment and you love it even if it is no good. It was one of those moments when it is not you looking for the words but rather words come looking for you and they came flowing as soon as you take a pen to the paper. I wrote it during ‘happy hours’ at night so I am sure many of the lines would have been very hard to decipher. But I loved it still and when I found that it was lost, it hit me hard. Never in my life have I felt that way about a poem, any poem at that. The anguish I felt, can only be compared with the anguish of heartbreak. Oh well, am over it now. For the record, the title was ‘Droplets in the Sea’.

Season's Beginning

Guys, check this out: http://khsh.blogspot.com/2006/03/seasons-beginning_21.html This kid is great or what? :D

Its not to be found

It is not to be found in ‘Solitude’

Carefully planned and neatly arranged.
You can try it you have the time,
And move the furniture around,
Will be good exercise and lots of sound.

You just wont hear the music in your soul.

It is not to be found in ‘Sacrifice’.

Carefully calculated and well advertised.
You can try it nine to five,
You will be crunching numbers,
Or punching posters and flyers,

Wont have time for the poetry in your heart.

It will not be found in ‘The Dark’.

Carefully sealing the windows or painting them black.
A plastic man in synthetic dark;
The blackness will say nothing to you.
They wont work - the fragrant candles that you light.

You won’t ever meet the shadows of the night.

It will not be found in ‘There’

It is not in crystal balls,
Nor in shopping malls.
It is not in special classes,
Nor in wine glasses.

You can’t find it there; not like ‘That’.

Show and tell

Think the blog is pretty dry with too many words and not enough pictures. I am beginning to think blogging is not the thing for a lazy person like me. 1st it was just writing stuff. Then it was trying to get the spellings right and now pictures! You think its ez to deal with pictures? Not for a lazy bum like me. Here is why:

1. 1st you have to take the pictures.
2. Then you have to hook the cam up to your PC and dload them.
3. Then you got to look at them.
4. Then you got to look at them again and figure which one to put in your blog.
5. Then writing all that crap again for no reason.
6. Uploading the pictures. Tilting them and moving them from right to left and stuff.

Oh well...here are some from my last trip.

 

 

 

 

Gangtok City. Not impressed? Move on the next one.

 

 

 

 

Pictures dont do justice

 

 

 

 

Lazy Afternoon

 

 

 

 

 

 

The tourist

 

 

 

 

YAK! YAK!! YAK!!!

 

 

 

 

A walk to remember

 

 

 

 

 

 

The road back?

smenita

Thats what the stupid word that is showing in the word verification for commenting. I was trying to respond to comments on the last post and the stupid blog wont let me write anything on my own blog! Now this is the kind of thing that makes people see shrinks for anger management issues.

Anyway...might as well post the comment in here.

Nowal, I kinda wait months b4 theres a new one. I wish you wdnt say that though. Was kinda hoping to see some in your blog.

I went to GLab. Its a bangla med and u'd probably not know it. Graduated from a private uni here.

Shaki, stick to yours. They are way better than mine. :P

Ray of light

Ok, now after thinking about it for years, doing extensive research on the human psyche, and listening to all those things told everywhere and reading stuff here and there, I can finally say that I know ‘shit about shit’. Gosh! This terribly stupid, extremely vain and utterly nonsense phrase is becoming such a cliché with me! Oh well screw the dramatics. The thing I wanted to say is that I just found out that there is truth to what the wise folks say to us.

“Life don’t have to have a meaning”
“No use in planning things.”
“Don’t bet too much on having things figured out. At the end of the day, no matter how bad or good things might be looking and how much time you spent speculating, things can easily go the other way and for no good reason. A small thing can cast a shadow that’ll linger on for years or it may light up your whole week. You just don’t know. So don’t worry about stuff and do what you have to do and keep your figures crossed.“

Well…I guess the wise men and women of the world already know these simple things. But we, the common folks always feel a li’l ecstatic when we figure one or two of these ourselves and go rambling on forever. Better not do that. I’d like to vouch for just one more thing wise folks say before I sign off. That is you should never under estimate the power of a friendly smile, a hearty handshake or a kind word. They do make a world of difference.

Pictures in ma head

[Still bumming at work. Feels like math class all over again. Not doing what I'm supposed to and writing crap on the notebook.]

You shoulda seen the pictures in ma head!
You’d love ‘em for sure – love ‘em bad.
You’d love the scenes and back drops
Real neat and sophisticated.
You’d love the people in there
And all the stories they share
And the way we all walk and talk
And drink and dance
Then surrender to the night
Give in to the trance,
All in a this crazy, beautiful world,
Where everything makes sense,
No malice, no lies,
No acting up, no pretence,
It’d blow your mind.
And you’d never look behind.

Oh well…they stay in ma head.
Can show you none – none at all;
Cant put ‘em down on paper,
Cant draw ‘em on the wall.
But trust me on this
Some of ‘em are real good.

Comments please

People have been complaining that leaving comments on my blog is very difficult. Ok...so I changed it to allow everyone to leave comments on it. So, there goes your excuse people! Dont be lazy. Sit up and type some comments in already!

Faulty Props

(found this lying around the room. One of the time killers from math classes I think.)

A spell is cast in the air
What was the magic?
The book tells the story
Of another time; in another place
Of feverish lovers
In state of grace.
Or was it the smell of your sweat?
When your body refuses to wait…

The show ends,
Curtain drops
The magician complains
- Faulty props

Somebody calls; she wishes you well.
A friendly gesture! Isn’t that swell!
“Wasn’t much of anything.” – you say.
And your friend agrees.
“Good thing to cut it short.”
“Yea. This just wasn’t his day.”

Shit Story

The three of them came out of the gate and ran down to the street laughing and pushing each other. Three cousins: lets call them 1st, 2nd and 3rd.
"You are damned lucky we dint stay in longer. We woulda drained you dry tonight." - says 3rd.
"What the hell are you talking about? You din't win. You just didn't loose this time." – 2nd disagrees; he was in the other team.
"Yep! And thats how it starts. Its a whole new game bird brain. Get used to it."
"Its a good thing we dint stay in there longer. There’s something wrong with the damned room. Cant seem to breathe right in there" – 1st speaks.
"Yeah! And its too fucking hot in there too!"
"I liked the old room better"
"Way better!"

"Say! Gotta hand it to you guys. You have gotten better at this." – 2nd starts again.
"huh?" – 1st stops and looks at 2nd.
"No I mean you play a lot better now. Make less mistakes. Not so much that we do."
"Is he trying to be funny?" – 1st looks at 3rd.
"He is trying to be funny."
"Is he funny? I dont think he is funny."
"Hey. Honest! I am not trying to pull anything...you know...you guys are better ...and we have to take you seriously and all."
"You wanna show him how funny we are?"
"Lets do it."

2nd got wind and ran for it. 1st sprints behind him and catches him in 5 seconds.
"Gotcha asshole! I got something for you" -1st jabbed his fist on 2nd's back.
"Hey bro! I said I'm sorry! Lemme go."
"Yo! You want to do a joke on him too?" - 1st yelled at 3rd who by this time has lost interest in the race and is walking towards the cigarette stand.
"Hey I'm talking to you. You wanna play with the joker? What the hell! I go all this trouble to catch him and now he wont do anything! Oh well.." 1st lets go of 2nd’s arm.
"You got a buck on you?" 3rd asks 2nd.
"All I got is 75c."
"I got 75 too! that makes it 1.5!"
"You took that from me the other day"
"Yeah...where else would I get 75c"
"How come you walk around with 75c? Where do you get 75c anyway?"
"Well...no...I dont...u know..."
"Hell no! What do you do with 25s? Where are these coming from?"
"Well...the tea stall guy game me 8 of them the other day. I dunno what he does with those"
"Well so he game you 8 of those. But how come you always have one on you paired with a 50?"
"Fuck you! I have 'em for your shit!" - 2nd got impatient.
"Hahaha...this is nice. Why does he say he has 'em?" - 1st was enjoying the conversation.
"He says he has them for my shit." - 3rd replies.
"For you shit? Why is that? Whats your shit got to do with 75c?"
"I dunno. Ask him."
"Whats his shit got to do with your 75c?" - 1st asks 2nd.
2nd says nothing.
"May be he loves the way my shit stinks. But he never bought 'em from me though."
2nd shakes his head and walks away.

They came up to the bridge. They walked passed a tall man with long hair. The man is clad in rags and has a mad look in his eyes. Probably belongs to one of those cults that hang around tombs and incineration grounds. 1st thought about the time his mother told him not to go near these people cause they know hypnotism and steal young children. "Wonder if they really know something. They know something for sure. But how much of it really work? Well...there is a world for everything they say - everything in its place. May be what they know do work in theirs. They wont work in mine I guess, unless I want them to. My world. What world is that? If I am so in love with it why am in such a hurry to leave it? Oh fuck it! I got way too much time for bullshit." - 1st thought as he carefully avoided stepping on the bodies covered in rags lying on the bridge. "Wonder why they come here to sleep. May be its breezy up here".

"I think I'm coming down with a fever. Dont like being sick." - 3rd said unhappily.
"I dont feel very well myself. Musta been the stupid room." said 1st.
"Naah. I had this since morning."
"Oh well...hey! That looks nice!" - 1st turned back to look at the girl at the foot of the bridge. She pretended to be totally unaware of the attention given her and tried to look busy with her cell phone. But she got caught trying to steal a glance at 2nd.
"Hahaha! They could never resist him!"
"That was a nice kitten."
"And a mighty odd one too. Some thing fishy going on in there!"
"Huh? What do you mean not right? You are trying to say she's a whore? Come on lad! Her mother and brother was there too!"
"What are you talking about? She was alone."
"Like hell she was! Was so into the nasty world in your head you missed her whole family standing a few feet away trying to get a cab. You sick fuck! Why would you say a thing like that about a nice decent girl?"
"Come now! How do you know she is a decent girl?" - 3rd protested.
"Just shut the fuck up you jerk!" - 1st looked mad.
3rd shut up.

"Now thats a pretty moon!" - 1st looked at the sky through the branches of the trees.
"A beautiful piece of the sky, the most incredible moon - done that. The poor folks on the street - done that too. Hell! I've been walking these streets for too long."
1st flicked the smoke off towards a tree. The burning tip broke into splinters as it hit the trunk. 1st looked pleased.
"Why do you think that cop is there?" - 2nd pointed towards a patrolman.
"I have a feeling you are gonna tell us."
"I think he is there to catch people carrying booze."
"Huh? What makes you think so?"
"You know...the bar is close."
"Close? Its on the other side of the highway 4 blocks away. Dont you think people might want to take other roads closer from it? Lets say...if they are not too drunk? The cop isn’t drunk. Is he? Still he is so smart that he chooses to guard a road four blocks away? Not the one on right, not the one in left or the one right on the other side of the highway? He's there to catch drunk folks who are so wasted that they wont take any of those roads and walk all the way down 3 blocks...and then cross the highway and not get run over and then walk another 2 blocks, carrying booze, all to walk right into his trap? You are a fucking genius!"
"Cops are suckers for money you know." - 2nd said gravely.
"Yeah! And you are a freaking moron! Shut the fuck up!!"

Paranoia

I have a gift
Unlike many unfortunate souls
I can turn it off
To be better off
When the load gets too heavy
I can just put it down and turn away
I tell myself I'd get back
But there'll never be the day.

Why does it pain me so?
Why does it have to do be so difficult?
To hold on to it - to serve it.
Why does it make you bleed?
When it knows that you arent up for it?
It should choose someone else.
Someone stronger; someone who is nothing like me
And leave me be.

Alien Rain

(First night at Gangtok)

Alien Rain

This alien rain
    Doesn't do a thing for me,

This remarkably expensive,
Carefully orchestrated,
Obligatory charade,
    Is as cold as it could be.

The sound of it falling,
The unfamiliar smell of it
Its convenient timing
    Only irritates me

It gets you soaked but keeps you dry.
It lets you touch but never gets you high.
It charges you by the minute
But doesn’t get you through the night.
It can’t sooth; can only bite.

This whore of an alien rain,
    Is NOT for me.

Tin Can Again!

Good thing that’s settled.
Lets kick it outta sight.
So long No Good Tin Can
Scram! You heard us right!

Now lets look at something else.
Something not so commonplace.
Lets have it on the table
Before they show it on the cable.
Let us turn it upside down.
Let us wear it like a crown.

Got a good thing here all right!
No wonder its sealed on tight!
Now lets find out whats within…
What? A STUPID CAN OF TIN!

I am keeping these

Things that we’re all born with,
Things that I’ve lost,
Things that I have traded in,
No matter what they’d cost,
Things that I could do without
But happy that I’ve got,
Things that stay out of reach
That labels me ‘have not’,

- I give up all of it.
And renounce all credit.

But I’m keeping these
Which you will never miss.

I wish I were a painter

I wish I were a painter
And a good one at that.
I’d paint these shabby walls,
The ugly doors, boring ceiling, the whole house.

And when I’m done I’d go out side
And paint the world!

Looking at tin cans

Looking at tin cans, looking on hard
From one of these angles it’ll look like a bird,
Or a bear, or a deer, or may be a penguin!
May be they are all true – all quite genuine!

Or so they say – the ones who know
What to call stuff – coke, smack, blow.

But guess what lad,
And this is rather sad.
Sometimes a tin can is
Just a tin can and not
Superman.