Saturday, September 18, 2010

Preparing Skin: KOLKATA-I

About two months back as Gujarat was bid adieu, least was known that Maidan(a locale;Kolkata) does not blanket upon Kolkata. Kolkata is just not populous, it’s crowd, its streets, its market places are all fulminating.



                                                             maidan,Kolkata



Politics screams at your face. Even an apolitical person comme moi can judge the weight of the see-saw. Within the ring is TMC & CPI (M), democracy a farce. Trust me, its an out and out muscle wriggling act. One never knows when one disappears after having made a comment either for/against the ruling party or the stronger opposition. One has to keep ones eyes wandering about and locate the flags stacked at very significant locations. One can flatly identify where he/she stands: a ruling party’s/an oppositions! Beware-“dog’s watching over”.

Power-cut, extortion in the name of party fund (chanda aka dhanda!), protection fee, no work& pay money, all thumbs attitude, strikes: symbol of India’s intellectual base!
At this point my close friends’ comments echo: “intellectuals are by nature clumsy”!

With our affright experiences, we do not have too many lovely words for Kolkata at this moment in our kitty as we hop from one shelter to another. It appears to be all-absorbing only when one gives up on good quality of living. Regular abuses, spitting, muscle flexing political alliances all uprightly hurled on you. In a month’s stay in the present house taken up as rent, not a single day could we wake up to a well lit room. Marshes, huge tall grasses &a rain- supported pond: housing a seven feet water snake, living in Kolkata is giving the two vagabonds real taste of knuckle sandwich.

From the corner of my eyes: Kolkata weeps from every ridge of its washed away age old forts& buildings. Houses fudged together between 1865-1925 ogle at you as you begin wondering if you are in a b&w era. Photogenic!!! But solemn. Every building appears to be a Stephen house in waiting. Wires springing out, hanging from above, below, left& right: fearful! Weak knees of those ageing shelters leave one shuddered.


                                                          stephen house,Kolkata

Notes taken, shots too! Kolkata strikes a pose with long, very much told tales and the Howrah Bridge with its swollen breasts. Tagore (poems, quotes, songs) afloat all over: from the constant puddle roads to the inconsistent crowd. Ganga too has slimmed down; I wouldn’t call it anorexic, but sure soon she would. With dirt and houses, apartments and bridges assembling closer to the Ghats she has chosen to surrender to the call of the metro- needs. Traveling from one corner to another becomes an experience worth every panic. One has to annul the term ‘Punctuality’ from ones dictionary. And if one intends to still hold onto it then 3 hrs prior to a meeting, one has to embark. Apart from crushing ones bones, the metro pulps the soul too.

Dislike/ hate /despise are strong adjectives. While describing Kolkata, my sentences would not endorse such terms. Years of city-life have not been successful in transforming my taste. Malls, skyscraping concrete jungles still don’t fill me with joy or wonder.

Impressive for sure is the language. I get to hear my mother tongue everywhere. Wish I could understand the colours of my own language too. Geographic differences instill differences in the mindset too. Bengalis out of Kolkata are not the ones who live here.

Kolkata for sure is letting me learn to read &write my mother tongue: I could never pick up during my growing up days in Shillong. Sign boards are good primers for a beginner. Whatever little Gujarati was picked up, sign boards fashionably pick up the credit! One more thing I am enjoying the most is listening to and watching Bangla songs& movies. A great respite!

Reading Tagore is such a delight.
From the solemn gloom of the temple children run out to sit in the dust, God watches them play and forgets the priest.” Rabindranath Tagore

Its also true that bongs couldn’t go beyond Tagore. I often feel it’s pretty tough on the other poets & writers like Nazrul or Jibananda Das who miss out a breathless reference in the regular bong conversations. Their contribution to bangla literature had been immense. Tagore on the other hand, is a state of the art. He enjoys all of it. Tagore is a passport to Bengal’s acceptance. I stand alone, failing to quote him in Bangla.

As far as the creative world is concerned the ensuing Durga Puja will as promised showcase all that is CREATIVE in the strictest term of it. From idols made of biscuits to chocolates, from scrap papers to roses- it will for sure be worth an experience.

All that awaits this scribbler is a little peaceful co- habitation with the 7 ft reptile that rambles around the present shelter and wishes never to confront. But photographing it is still a consideration (from a distance/unreachable height)!

Very soon I choose to braid my kind with all that needs to shape up a good bong out of me. My skin prepares to deep six the unkind, unpleasant metro labels and commix with the neo- ground: good/ bad: leaving it for the days to come to judge it all. “I have become my own version of an optimist. If I can't make it through one door, I'll go through another door - or I'll make a door. Something terrific will come no matter how dark the present.” Tagore again. See I am fast at adapting…

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Friday, September 10, 2010

FIRST BURST



Wriggling from within

blood draped, a tuft of flesh burst out

the first glimpse of the world and

the wail never stopped…


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SILENT






Young veiled faces,
unschooled anger brews
Death smacked…
SILENT grief falls with a thud
stone-strewn land
dreams here
standstill
war-clad.

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