Cherrapunji......a Treasure in need of being treasured!!!!

A THING OF BEAUTY IS A JOY FOR EVER....

You must have heard this so many times since you were introduced to the wonderful world of literature early in your life. But, now I know that this feeling of joy fades away with the fading beauty. On a recent trip to my hometown, it was painfully embarrassing for me to look at the eyes of this tourist wondering if all those great things she had heard from her husband were actually true. The ground reality was clouding the faith in her husband's words. That tourist happened to be my wife and it was so painful for me to see that what Cherrapunji had to offer her actually paled in comparison to the wonderful picture of Cherrapunji that I had painted before her while booking the tickets. I know and, those who have witnessed the true breathtaking beauty of Cherrapunji, they know that my words hinge on the glorious past which will soon be forgotten unless the concerned people wake up. We would not have come to this had we valued the tourism potential of this place and had learnt to respect the magnificent gift of God. Our total disregard for the environment has translated into a monster that is slowly but surely taking away our resources. Its high time that we Indians actually ensure that India actually becomes "Incredible India" and towards the fulfillment of that objective, Cherrapunji and the rest of the North East deserve utmost and immediate attention. 

The Seven Sister's Waterfalls (Mawsmai Waterfalls) is one of its kind. Just imagine the curiosity of a tourist when his/her wings of imagination take a flight into that heaven where seven segmented waterfalls cascade down, each striking the surface deep down below with great force but after a little romance with the clouds during the descent. If it is disappointing for the tourist to find that scenery missing, than it is heart-breaking for someone like me who always thought this place will remain the same,i.e. PICTURE PERFECT. The sorry sight of water trickling down like tears down the face of the rocks unfortunately underlined Nature's plight. I agree that we were there at the onset of winters but Cherrapunji had earned its reputation as the wettest place in the world and so the magnificence of Cherrapunji was never dependent on a particular season unlike Shimla, which blooms in winters and then wilts under the Sun in summertime. Climate Change is an issue that we know is being discussed in the corridors of the UN but to witness its destructive impact on our lives is thought provoking to say the least. We must bring back the rains and restore the glory that truly belongs to Cherrapunji.

If manipulations in the environment that are robbing the nature of its beauty are not enough, than the indifferent attitude of the hosts towards the tourists will surely prove to be the death knell for a beautiful place that truly deserves its spot amongst the top tourist destinations. It was baffling to see the expressions of the people who were manning the so-called restaurants near the captivating Mawsmai caves. They were soaking in the Sun outside with hardly any interest in the tourists. The food takes an age to be served and an extra query or an additional demand is met with a look that would make the tourist rethink whether to enter the dark cave alone or not. Thank God we were one intimidating group armed with my villainous looks, Ankur's constipated "Daya" kicks, Arup's "throat-slitting" skills(read clicks),  Gul's viral and Shiladitya's displaced but ever growing muscles.

There is no intention on the part of the Tourism Department of Meghalaya Government to properly manage and monitor these tourist attractions and the facilities for the tourists. Only a blind can ignore such business potential. For instance, the ECO Park was a good addition to the tourism map of Cherrapunji and I must admit that I had great fun on one such trip in the year 2008. So, next time I went there with Ranbir, I asked him to stop by that park. There was no ECO Park there and instead we were chased away by a caretaker for clicking a few pictures. We wondered what was that man taking care of??? Anyways, at least there was one person who was taking his job seriously. That was a KLPD but I managed to play it down and this time I did not even want to pass by that park. I remember doing a presentation on "Business idea generation" as a student at NIFT. My idea was to start an agency business for film shooting location scouting in the North-east. The idea was good and I was serious about that atleast for a couple of days till I was done with the presentation. It seems there are people like me in the Tourism Department as well. I could be excused but even the concerned officials are treating the matter as a classroom assignment which is inconsequential to their marksheet. And that is the irony. How can the people who matter sit on a gold mine and let all of it go to waste????

It had been a long time wish to see the Double Decker Root Bridge but the confusing way (thanks to the missing roadside signs) made the journey so difficult that by the time we could reach there, almost everyone had lost the enthusiasm. The drive downhill on the narrow zigzag roads was so puzzling that we were wondering if at all we would be able to get the car to turn back.  My wish has remained unfulfilled and I hope that I get another chance in this lifetime. In hindsight, I feel that a trip to the Asia's cleanest village (Mawlyngong) instead would have been much more fulfilling. 

The trip would remain a special one because of the four clowns who kept me entertained with their antics all along. Gul was not feeling well but that didn't stop her from joining us as we seized control of the roads. She had only one wish while fighting drowsiness and that was to get clicked with golden grass. Shiladitya was hurt with a hamstring pull (that's his version) but he seemed to be fine the moment Ankur lay his sweaty hands on him for a "Thigh Message".... oops I meant "Thai Message". The driver did help out as well by stroking Adi's hair. As they say, love and romance blooms in the nature so beautiful. Well, I am not talking about me and my wife but the special bond that was visible between Arup and Ankur. Bhagwaan karein ki Fevicol ki mazboot jod ho jo kabhi tootein naa....unki Dosti I mean. And for that matter, our dosti as well.

Gul could not see much of Shillong due to a severe viral attack and I wish to take her back there soon with the hope that glory of Cherrapunji would be restored by then and Asia's cleanest village would continue to remain clean till we say "hi" to the rains there again.

How can Bangladeshis take away rights which even the Indians are deprived of???

When I had mentioned in my last post that I would like to share my thoughts on the recent spate of violence in Assam and talk about the issues that have impacted the lives of many in that state and the North-East at large, I had just one thing in mind and that was just my hatred for the insurgents from the neighbouring country. It is not that suddenly I have started to develop a soft-corner for those people but my perspective has changed for sure. We have to blame ourselves as much for this day as we blame those infiltrators. When you do not respect the existence and freedom of your family members and choose to throw them out of the home, you end up opening the door to the unwanted strangers. Instead of strengthening the family ties, if you break the family then you become vulnerable and invite trouble. In the fight between the two, it is often the third person that ends up benefiting the most. Whether it is in Mumbai or it is in the North-East, it is the genuine citizens who have been forced to leave their homes and who fills those vacant spaces??? Any guesses??????? Well, the answer could well be the insurgents who have illegally made our country their home for bread or for blood.

"We have a home but we are homeless."-that was the feeling most of the non-tribals grew up with in the North-East. In Shillong, non-tribals are still not allowed to freely purchase property. Shillong is my home and I am proud of that place as much as any tribal is. I genuinely feel that there is no place better in India than Shillong but then I do not want to go back and settle there. I dreamt of a good life in Shillong but then I do not want to grow old and die in a rented house. When our parents were born there and we grew up there as well, then why such discrimination??? In Assam, there was a time when Bengali-bashing had become a popular past time. All non-tribals are "Dkhars" and when the young tribal students go out of North-East, they are mockingly referred to as "Chinkis" or "Chinese". This is disgusting and ridicules an Indian's right to live in any part of India and call it his or her home. North-East has seen a huge exodus of talented people and now the state of affairs is such that talented doctors and engineers have been replaced by talented terrorists and fake Indians. Mumbai is also going the same way. Such infiltration become all the more menacing for huge country like ours when those insurgents gel in with the crowd and obtain Identity Cards with the help of power hungry politicians.

Coming to the Bodos versus Muslims clashes which have claimed so many lives and threatened to destroy the peaceful lives of many north-easterners in other parts of the country, I must say this was inevitible. The infiltration of Bangladeshis had gone beyond the tolerance of the local people. There is a huge dearth of job opportunities in that region due to negligible development of trade and industry over the years. The anti-

Centre sentiments had been simmering in the hearts of the local people and now with the Bangladeshi muslims snatching away their land and livelihood, things went beyond control. The insecurities fuelled the aggression and violence erupted when those illegal muslim migrants united in the acts of violence to somehow stop themselves being forced out. It was the duty of the State Government to not only stop Bodos from

adopting the aggressive route by addressing their concerns but also by throwing those illegal migrants out. They failed (if at all they tried I mean) and so the citizens took law into their own hands.

The most shocking aspect, however, was that not a single Muslim Organisation spoke out against the muslim infiltrators. Rather there seemed to be a lot of support for those infiltrators while the local tribe got cornered. It was strange to see the Muslims taking to the streets in major Indian cities against the attacks on the Muslim migrants. It is clear that they put religion before country. I have tremendous respect for the strong bond that the Muslim communities have but what troubles me is that they have not come out to showcase their love for India. Just imagine the day when all the muslims in every Indian city come out on the streets to show to the world that they are the children of mother India and no outsider should dare to even think bad about India and Indians. You cannot expect to enjoy the benefits of being an Indian citizen unless you do not stand up for India. Hindus like us, as usual, chose to be indifferent and again did not come out in support of the Indians and against those cockroaches who are infesting our society. Pakistan, China and Bangladesh would have been delighted to witness the cracks that have been exposed by the chaotic scenes that one witnessed in our railway stations in cities like Bangalore and Hyderabad recently. If a couple of SMSs can cause such chaos then we as citizens must question ourselves and our Government regarding our roles in strengthening the nation. Otherwise, the termites would make our country hollow from within and weakening it enough for any of our neighbours to make merry.

One would have noticed that in the clash between the local tribe and the illegal migrants, it was the genuine non-tribals who also had to run away from cities like Bangalore and Hyderabad for fear of life. Unless we see ourselves as Indians, we would never be able to stop these infiltrators of any caste, community or colour. Tribals or non-tribals; Dkhars or Chinkis; Bengalis, Bodos or Assamese; Hindus or Muslims..... nothing should matter as long as we are Indians. Any home can only be protected against the outside threats, only when all the family members enjoy equal rights to the ownership of every corner of that home. If there is any inner discord between the family members then the outsiders would have to hardly break any sweat to break in and take possession. Finding a fake Indian is like finding a needle in the haystack but it becomes a bit easier if we focus on the needle rather than the varied features or types of hay.

ARE WE INDIANS UPTO THE TASK??????????

North East or North East India....WHAT IS IT????

Seven years away from North East India and I have met enough strangers to say that only a small percent of them were aware about the scenic beauty of that region, a few did talk about the law and order situation there but the biggest chunk was of ignorant fools who carried the brains in their head like a decorative piece without much utility value.Otherwise, how would one explain such ignorance exhibited by the educated folks? Initially, I used to feel insulted and often replied back in anger-"Kya aapke school mein Geography teacher ki kami thi???". But, gradually I started to be indifferent to such puzzled looks. I am proud of my home town. That society is much more forward in terms of education, fashion, music and culture. Infact, the rest of the country would do good to learn a lesson or two about the matrilineal society that exists there. The issues like female foeticide and crimes against woman would get taken care of once woman are given their due respect.

It really irks me when I see news channels going into a frenzy every year about cut-offs in Delhi or the stress levels that CBSE students suffer during admissions. Have they ever cared to highlight the plight of students from North-East who have to take that call of leaving their home states and dive into that competition on their own?? Consider this... a topper from non CBSE board from North-East carries a marksheet that pales in comparison to the inflationary tendencies that is the hallmark of CBSE. Those students from North-East are in no way inferior to their counterparts in the metros and rather better atleast at Geography for sure. The question is not about who is better than whom but the issue here is that the media needs to correct its myopic vision and understand that it has a duty to report news from all corners of the country and there are seven states in that corner for God's sake. It is very difficult for a student in North East to take the most important decision about their careers because the popular centers of professional education are miles and miles away. Trust me, when I say that it is a scary thought to leave behind an idyllic life in a beautiful place like Shillong and then travel to a big chaotic city with little or no clue about where would one find good education, social acceptance, exciting opportunities and good life. Internet of course has made information seeking easier but fifteen minutes of air time would be praise worthy for sure.

How many times have you seen a piece of news regarding the North-East on the front page of the daily newspaper?? Most of you would instantly recollect the ongoing riots in Assam and that is so unfortunate, isn't it?? There are so many beautiful sights in that region, so much of rich history, such wonderful cultures and yet all of these have remained a mystery to lot of people who call themselves Indians and yet their India ends where West Bengal ends. It won't be a surprise if someday we find more ink being dedicated to this region on Chinese dailies than on Indian newspapers. I will talk about the riots and related issues in my next post but this one is about the perceived step-motherly treatment meted out to the seven sisters and the total lack of concern on the part of the Center do something about it.

While I was growing up, I had a feeling that North-East was not being given due importance as mainstream India by the rest of India and the North-Eastern extremist groups loathed the very idea of being considered as Indians. There were lot of issues that led to development of such mutual feeling. As for common men like us, we preferred safety and hence adapted to such sorry state of things. Bandhs and sometimes even curfews would keep us indoors while the rest of India would be celebrating Independence Day or Republic Day. Insurgency led issues and center's apathy over the years had created a phobia amongst the indegenous people against any outsider. As a result, North-East is still not quite the Incredible India and its credibility as a tourism hotspot remains unfortunately questionable to a large extent. The magnificence of the Seven Sisters has remained confined to the Maps or in the words of those who have lived or happened to visit the region. Tourism and only tourism has the power to appreciate and popularise the jewel that we call the North East.

One good thing about Western Culture is that young people are encouraged to travel. So what if they don't learn from the books, they learn it through experience. In India, travel according to the youth is packing bags and heading to some Engineering Institute or some MBA Institute while for the elderly, it is bowing before God in Rishikesh or Mecca. Telegus are doing rounds of Visa Balaji, Punjabis are more at home in CaNNNada, Biharis travelling to any place where there is either a vacancy or a competitive exam on and Keralites love the dry conditions of the Gulf. There are only two communities who you can find on any tourist destination and those are Bengalis and Gujratis. But the inherent problem with Bengalis is the over-protective nature of the parents whose "Shona Go" and "Baba Go" attitude drains out the adventurous spirit of the kids. Gujratis, on the other hand, prefer to travel in big groups and enjoy being busy with themselves. As for our generation, we appreciate nature only when we are looking through the lens and there is Facebook page waiting for the pictures. 

Guys do take a few days off and enjoy the sights and sounds of the seven beautiful sisters. I close this post by praying that the eastern corner in the golden quadrilateral is given as much importance as any other part of India. It is about time that India gets stronger at strategic geographic points. Now, quickly tell me the names of seven north-eastern States and their capitals???? Now, would you call yourself an INDIAN??????

MORE THAN GOD.....BUT UNDERRATED...!!!

Let me start by admitting that this post has been inspired by a few lines that my dearest(..and only) wife, Gul penned for her lovely mother.

The days when I slept in your lap,
and you never moved away.
The days when troubles surrounded me,
and you came in the way.
Cooked for me after tiring routine,
the days when I said;
“Oh Mom….what bad cuisine!!!”
Know its late realising all this,
But hard when I so much miss,
a pat for all the rights and a scolding for all the wrongs.
Though leading a wonderful life,
But its impossible forgetting the time.
The day when I left home for another sky,
And you had tears in your eye.

I have told her on quite a few occasions that she is good at poetry. I have been trying to convince her to keep those poems stored somewhere for us to enjoy later in life. But she doesn’t listen. Anyways, she has aptly brought out the importance of the word “Mother” in our lives.

I know it is difficult for her being away from the person who gave birth to her and then brought her up so well. Moreover, she also longs for the presence of my mother who would have guided her at this early stage of her married life. It becomes all the more important because ours is an altogether different culture and she needs some elder to adapt quickly. She is a fast learner and learning well under my expert eyes…hehehe. I just booked my parents’ tickets and so the Kitchen team is going to get stronger soon. But such is life. A woman develops the traits of a wonderful mother when she moves away from her mother. What an irony?????

But I feel there is logic here because this is the stage when a woman realises the importance of a mother’s presence in a child’s life. That is when she imbibes all the values that go on to make her a good mother later on. She becomes much more responsible and gradually gets comfortable at the art of juggling. The transition into an “Inhouse Management Guru” is a tough one. The art of motivation, leadership, delegation of authority and planning etc. are perfected by a woman only when she gets her hands dirty in the daily rigours of life.

It is said that a daughter is closest to her father and a son to his mother. I love my mother a lot but my father has been my buddy and yet I can share with her what I can’t with my father. It is so assuring to be around her. I left Shillong in 2005 and while leaving that beautiful place, I could see her eyes struggling to hold back tears. I didn’t give her a hug then to console her as I do not like to be seen as emotional. In these seven years, I have not spent much time with her. But now I do miss her a lot. Especially after marriage it seems that I am missing her much more. Perhaps, this is happening because now I have settled down and distractions are less. I come back home and see a daughter missing her mother. I get into the kitchen along with my wife to experiment and we miss the guidance of an expert hand. I think about her age or I find out that she is not keeping well and then I am flooded with all the bad thoughts.

We take our mothers for granted but the fact that she means the world to us remains clouded till we are deprived of her very presence. When she used to try and help us, we wanted to be independent and now when we have the freedom to act at will, we miss her interventions at every stage. I have grown up, I am earning fine, I am married and I know how to look after myself but in essence, I am still that innocent kid who is eagerly waiting to be pampered. Every kid is a good kid around his or her mother. That is her power. The love and affection somehow magically rubs off on us and gets the childlike innocent side of us to come out in its full glory. She is equal to God because she remains in our subconscious mind and we children selfishly remember her when we are nervous or afraid or hopeful or in trouble. God may or may not come but a mother surely is always around as long as she lives. That way, she is on a higher pedestal than the almighty as well.

Guys, just go back a few sentences(oh plz…cmon you have anyways come this far)and you will find that there is only selfishness when I tell you that I need my mother to be around. You go and ask her why would she like to be with her son and she would say, “because my son needs me!!!”.

Saluting all MAAs and Mummas again…….

When the dream turns into a nightmare.......!!!

Besides Roti and Kapda, Makaan is the basic requirement for a good life. But more importantly, “Khud ka makaan” is a wish that every man harnesses. This wish often transforms a common man’s life into a mission, a mission to earn and save enough to own a house that he can really call it his own. Four walls and a roof that one can call one’s own is much more valuable than even a rented posh apartment. Every common man diligently works towards that aim and kabhi kabhi ussi mein puri zindagi nikal jaati hain…..!!! To every man, his home is his castle and to see the transformation of the hard earned money into an abode full of love and happy memories is perhaps the most fulfilling experience for any one. In India, people make homes for their posterity or at least, this has been the tradition. So often, you would see that a man buys or builds a house just before he is about to retire. Things have changed with easy availability of housing finance and changing mindset but the urge to provide protection to the next generation cuts across the barriers of wealth and status.

As a banker, I have met many borrowers, both present and prospective. But I was really sad to see the plight of one such man whose smile has vanished somewhere after his prized possession became a cause of pain and anxiety for him. Sitting on the other side of the table, I could feel the hurt, anger and frustration simmering within him. If I were to put words to the story of this man’s journey as a borrower, probably this is how I would write it down.

A man in his early fifties walked in once with the hope that his dream of owning a house would get realised soon. He went through all the processes as fast as he could as he was eager to gift his wife and three kids a new home. He felt proud every time he looked in his wife’s eyes which reflected the promises of a future full of loving memories. One glance at his kids and the doting father felt that they should get an easier and much happier life. He got blinded by the rosy picture of future and that is where he made the first mistake. Like all borrowers, even he signed the dotted lines without reading the document. His income was not that great but his retirement benefits would have been able to cover his debt. Further, the wise Banker convinced him to go for an insurance to cover the home loan. The idea behind such insurance is that should anything happen to the borrower, the debt burden would be taken care of by the insurance for a meagre premium per month. This saves the rest of the family from the hassles of Bank’s recovery efforts. In this case, the man had to just pay Rs.250 per month which seemed affordable then. The man got the loan and soon he ushered in a new future at a place close to his heart.

But gradually things started going wrong once he retired. He used up the retirement benefits to set up a small business for his son instead of paying off his debt as he thought that his three kids would take care of their father’s burden. Life had other ideas though and his world soon came crushing down. He lost his dear wife and his kids grew up to be useless, selfish and callous. They added further weight to the heavy burden the poor man was already struggling to carry. The home no longer comforted him and neither did it give him any peace of mind. For a few grains of rice, he had to hear hundreds of abuses everyday from his sons and daughter in laws. The cacophony outside started sounding sweeter than the voices he heard within the four walls. He could fight with the world but not with his own children and in his own home that he shaped with lot of sweat and blood. Now, it is just a structure witnessing his miserable life moving on. It is more like a Grave and not a Home any longer. He is still breathing but he is not living life. The father can never be harsh on the kids and so his heart melts every time he sees the innocent faces of his grandchildren. He knows that his kids would struggle for survival after he is no more. Four walls and a roof would be a great asset to possess in those hard times.

When things start going wrong, they seem so unrelenting. The Bank called to inform that the revised interest rates would mean that the poor man has to shell out more every month. When a man is cornered, he becomes rebellious. He fights back. His fight does not imply that he is right but it is just an outburst of all that he has patiently withstood since misfortune started courting his life. He blamed the Bank for increasing interest rates contrary to the agreement terms and conditions. He is ignorant of the way bank finance works as had not read the fine print that day when he was in a hurry to take the loan. He is sinking deep into depression and so he is trying to hang on to the last straw wherever he could find one. He rebelled against the advise given by the bank and continues to pay less than what is required. The loan has reached a stage where it could go bad any moment and so the bank has to step up the recovery efforts. Banking is a process but Bankers are humans after all, and so we counselled him on multiple occasions. During one such session, the old man broke down and introduced us to his sorry state of affairs. 

This 64 year old man is working as a security guard in an ATM while sons are sitting shamelessly idle at home turning a blind eye to the pain of their father. At an age when he was supposed to enjoy his time at home with his grand children, the poor man is instead putting his life at stake by guarding a 10’x10’ space for twelve hours in the scorching heat. This 10'x10' space could end up as his grave soon. He is so frail that he won’t be able to even put up a minute of resistance should there be any theft. For a few, life is a story of never ending struggle and he is one of those fighters. But somewhere age has caught up with him and he is losing this hopeless battle. He is working hard at this age not because he has any expectations from life but the honest man is toiling hard for peanuts just to die without any debt. This is precisely the thought that dominates the mind of all self respecting senior citizens in our society. When we heard his unfortunate story, we were really shaken. Our first thought was to calm him down as at this age his heart has become too vulnerable to withstand such traumatic existence and his mind is too weak to shun thoughts of suicide. We consoled him and spoke to his sons to help him out and take up their responsibility. But, the arrogant losers dismissed our advise and simply told us that it is not their responsibility to pay off the debt as they had not taken the loan. We felt pity for such asses who do not know the value of a father in life. At that point, I felt like kicking them out but then I stopped myself thinking that sooner or later, these cowards will be taught a lesson in life.

The irony of life is that the father cannot sell his property as his kids would end up on the road, the loan can be taken care of by the insurance but for that the old man has to be dead. As for now, the insurance premium of Rs.250 itself is proving to be a great burden for the man. The system is automated and it does not consider the emotions or the pains of a human being. It only knows that a certain sum should be paid before a certain date. I splurge all my savings and here is a man who is struggling to earn Rs.250. Helping him personally by lending him some money once or twice is fine but this is not a permanent solution as there is no light at the end of the tunnel here. Sooner or later, the bank will realise the debt by auctioning off the property and we are just delaying the inevitable in the hope that at least one son will stand up like a man and make his life count. We are also trying to find ways to reduce the burden by exercising various options within the banking norms. There are rich borrowers who default at the pretext of not having enough time to deposit the repayment and then there are those like this man who put their integrity above everything else. He reminds me of my father who has also done everything possible to give me a good life and if I do not take care of him now then there is no meaning to my existence. I pray to God that he does some magic so that this borrower of mine can live his last few years happily and free of any burden. To conclude, I would like to advise all of you to pay off your debts well on time instead of sticking to the regular EMIs. Life is full of surprises and so every extra cent saved should be used to clear off the debt. 

DEAD & FORGOTTEN...It doesn't matter now!!!

He is there down somewhere lonely, yet loneliness has not enveloped his thoughts. He is surrounded by darkness all around him, yet fear has failed to get the better of him. There is not even that tiny opening for him to feel the energy of the Sun or the romanticism of the moon and yet he is not feeling claustrophobic. He is not feeling helpless even though he can’t move an inch. There is no light to keep him warm, no voice to keep him engrossed, no air to keep him fresh and no water to keep him thirst free. But he does not crave for warmth, he is not seeking a companion, he can’t feel any better and he is not thirsty either. He is dead and buried in his grave. The soul has departed but the body has been left behind in isolation. With time even that will cease to exist but he was a character too. He had lived once and now he would live in memories. Memories of his near and dear ones, if at all he had any or if any one of those actually valued his presence.

He had just been buried a few days back and things are not the same now.  If for a moment some life gets infused into his motionless ever decaying corpse, he would have been shocked to see that people have moved on and he would realise that his personality had only a momentary impact on other’s lives. It does not matter how tall he is or how strong he is, he doesn’t quite have a towering presence now. Till a a few days back, he used to draw gazes of young girls who couldn’t hide their affection for the attractive young man. Now, his body is cold and the skin has gone pale. Those girls have already found someone else to admire.

He might have been a very good man or perhaps, he was the most corrupt. He was either an extrovert or preferred keeping to himself. He was either famous or he was just a commoner. Nothing matters anymore. His good deeds or his most horrible doings; none of these would count now or in the next life, provided this re-birth theory has some credibility. He died young and left behind so many unfulfilled dreams. The bird had just learnt how to soar high but the flight ended abruptly because destiny acted otherwise. Such a promising talent would never get the recognition it deserved. He could have given so many moments of happiness to so many people. But those people are still living oblivious to the loss of a promising life. I wonder WHO IS DEAD???? 

He was buried by strangers who found him dead by riverside and under that bridge whose architectural glory has now been overshadowed by the discussions about that unfortunate plunge that the young man took. What drove him to do this??? We will never know. No one has come to grieve at his grave; no one has come and put some lilies. I wonder WHO IS DEAD???? 

He doesn’t have any epitaph to symbolise his existence on this earth. No words could have done justice to a life so short and a life that could have been wonderful. He has been perhaps forgotten already but it hardly matters to that heap of flesh that is lying down there. It doesn't get hurt or doesn't feel the pain any longer. The soul has left with all the feelings, leaving behind just mere evidence of his existence. Soon, the body will decay and get lost like his memories which are being wiped off by the tide of time and the very nature of mortal beings who are still moving above the ground. Life is just a journey from the womb of the mother to the womb of the mother earth. For all those youth who are not with us and who have died having been deprived of love and care.

Tale of 3 Ps....Caught in the act!!!!!

I was doing my next post on Jodhpur and was in a bit of quandary regarding how to encapsulate all that has happened over the last nine months into something crisp and readable. Suddenly my laptop heated up and I shut it down for a while. Then as I was surfing through channels, I stumbled upon the “hot” topic of Politicians enjoying Pornography in Parliament being debated with grand rhetoric by our politicians. I heard a bit of what they had to say and felt it was an utter waste of time to give so much of airtime to such a petty issue. Suddenly, I felt the urge to put my post on Jodhpur on the backburner and take up this subject. Of course, I too don’t mind wasting time on a Sunday night especially when I am in a place like Jodhpur where there is not much to do.

So let me start by giving a brief backdrop to the debate and why it has assumed such importance all of a sudden. In Karnataka, three MLAs were caught enjoying porn while they were getting bored during the assembly session. Then the scene moved to Gujarat where the same thing happened. Since then the issue of Pornography has become much politicised and scrutinised under the moralistic microscope. Is Pornography bad????

The moment you try to answer this question you step into that realm of tolerance v/s intolerance. Some say watching porn is distasteful while others say watching porn privately is fine. I being the more tolerant kind, my vote lie with the latter group. But the issue is not simple and you cannot judge a person based on AYEs & NAYs with respect to this issue. Watching porn is not a crime and in fact, not bad either. As long as you do not disturb others or do not break the code of conduct applicable in your immediate environment, no one can question you.  At this juncture, one only needs to know where he or she can watch and where he or she can’t. However, if we extrapolate and establish that pornography encourages slave trade, invasion of privacy, paedophilia and atrocities against women, then we are faced with a different question. And that critical question is: Should we watch porn or should we reject it outright???? Porn industry is doing well in the west and there it is viewed as an art form with aesthetically shot videos. A porn star like Sunny Leone can expect to be a part of the mainstream society and lead a respectable life. In fact, I was pleasantly surprised by the mature way in which Indian media reacted and now she is doing Jism 2 under the banner of Mr.Mahesh Bhatt. Soon you might also see her in some Saas Bahu daily soap in a Tulsi like avatar.  Indian porn is sleazier and unfortunately the major share is of MMS Scandals which are in bad taste and need to be blocked. We might say a certain kind of porn is an art form but hardly any of us are art connoisseurs. In reality, we do not watch it to rate the quality of work or to appreciate the finer details embodied in the piece of art. We all do it for pleasure when we get bored. Porn is a part of growing up process and almost every adolescent goes through that phase when such content seems appealing. With time, such desires die down and lots of Hard Disk space gets freed up. Even at a later stage, people might watch it occasionally. But it is not unusual to come across some lechers who make it a daily routine. Nudism is celebrated in Hollywood but is taboo in Bollywood as yet, though we have come far  away from those days of two flowers coming together to symbolise love making.  Sex scenes in mainstream Hollywood flicks are instances of very mild porn. There are levels of porn too like XX and XXX, etc. I wonder why the 24^th alphabet and not A or B. Experts can leave their comments below…lol!!!

Our architectural marvels carry images which are very suggestive and I am sure parents have hard time explaining the engraved images to their kids. “Papa yeh kya hain???.....”Chalo bittoo ki ma..hum woh ice cream stall ke paas chalte hain. Yahaa aaj kuch zyada hi garmi hain, wahaa zyadaa achcha hain!!!”  Moreover, we live in the land of Kamasutra which is believed to be THE GUIDE TO SEXUAL PLEASURE. But, I read it somewhere that it is way much more than just a mere treatise on sexual gratification. It has a greater social connotation. Yet people dig themselves six feet under the ground when there is any mention of it. The problem is that SEX is such a taboo in our society that people do it discreetly and hence oppressed sexual desires often take a negative form. Anything artistic is not bad and the same should stand true for sexual content as well. In essence, pornography is actually not art rather the absence of it. Loveless Erotica for commercial reasons is pornography or genuine love making captured on camera for commercial reasons are examples of pornography. It is often cheap and gross. Art for one is sleaze for another. There is a very thin line between art and sleaze and we fail to honour that. We should celebrate art and reject sleaze but in our lack of willingness to understand, we get confused. This results in good art being rejected on ethical grounds while paving the way for sleaze to sell discreetly. Here, I come back to tolerance v/s intolerance. Awareness and counselling are the only way to fight sleaze and once we ensure this, all the evils would also be taken care of. The more you try to stop by force; greater will be the repercussions on the society at large.

I have always said this that IT revolution owes a great deal to pornography as well. It did attract lot of young stars of our age to visit those newly opened cyber cafes and explore the world of internet. We all started with ASLs on Yahoo Messenger and now we hardly use it. In fact, I do not even remember my User ID. We have gone through this stage of watching porn and now we hardly visit such sites. You can never stop people from enjoying porn. The idea is to not let that create evils.

When I talk about evils, you obviously think about atrocities against women. I heard one of the participants constantly repeating the words “Objectifying woman”. It is unfortunate that when it comes to sex, Men are vilified. The panel member either was ignorant or conveniently ignored the fact that many women also enjoy porn. The fairer sex also has desires and they do draw pleasure from such videos as well. I learnt this truth when I had borrowed a pen drive from one of my class mates back at college for some project presentation. I was surprised as hell when an interesting name came up during the virus scan. Men are also being objectified but yeah not to the extent that the women are being objectified.

So, watching pornography is not an issue. Watching pornography in the Assembly is somewhat an issue but the real issue that no politician is talking about is: Were these politicians voted in to watch porn when the session is on??? The country is being raped in the Parliament and in the assembly; the MLAs are enjoying the video.  The loss to the country is the same whether the politicians watch porn or they read comic strips. Parliament/Assembly sessions are for deliberating on drafts and bringing out policies for the greater good of the society. It is absolutely acceptable if the politicians carry such sexual content on their cell phones to the assembly and as long as they do not use official hardware and also valuable work hours for such activities, but those desperate souls surely did not figure out what they ought to have figured out during their teens. No one would have raised an eyebrow if those MLAs would have copied the video and watched it later, may be while on their way back to home.  These guys not only wasted our taxes but also lot of water in the toilet. The sanitization should happen quickly and every politician should be made accountable for every second that he/she breathes during office hours. This holds true for any profession and all professionals in fact.

To end, my salute to the journalist who captured that secret footage which got the entire country talking. I wonder how you would view his act. Shoot karte karte dekha toh usne bhi hain…………!!!! He ignored the assembly session and chose to create a story on this. From now on, the politicians would even throw away the newspaper if they find an objectionable image immediately on turning the page. THE MEDIA BOMB CAN EXPLODE ANY WHERE & OUT OF ANY DAMN THING!!!

"Laban School-er Cheley Ni???...Great". Part 2...Unadulterated fun!!!!

The transition from primary school to the high school was smooth and the new address was convenient for me as my house was just five minutes away. The first day feel was of excitement and sadness, excitement of being in the high school and sadness at the thought of being away from such caring teachers. Life has to move on and so it did. The day used to begin with GULMOHAR and I don’t remember what it used to end with perhaps because most of us would be already out of the campus by 3 O’clock, atleast in our thoughts. Classes used to start by 10 AM and I had the luxury of lazing around till my mother pushed me out. But soon I started to be extraordinarily punctual, the reason being that lovely game of cricket or football that would kickstart our day in school. However, we did find ourselves in the midst of IT evolution and a teacher joined the school with his early morning doses of WORDSTAR & LOGO but the open windows were our escape routes. Days went by and we started getting comfortable with our routine school life. The best part about school days is that you find a way to enjoy even the most mundane of things because of your friends.

I was among the bunch of “good” kids who hardly ever sat in the second bench but my reason was different. I always wanted to be the first one out of the class. Besides, I was not that tall either. One of our teachers, Bankim Sir or BBC (as we fondly called him) used to call out “You little boy, go and kneel down”. And I must tell you that it was not an enjoyable experience as there would be no fine legs passing by in the corridors. The nicknames given to teachers were weird, funny and sometimes undesirable but at the end of the day, the respect for them was always there. Being in the top three had its advantages as during examinations, Room No.1 was perceived as nuisance free room by the invigilators so much so that one of them once said “Baba tomra toh shobai bhalo cheley…cheating feeting toh korbe na. Bhalo korey porikhkha daao, aami ghumaai”. That meant that we had the luxury of exchanging answers at will.

All the teachers had their “styles”, be it punishment or be it greater punishment oops teaching. I guess our teachers were also WWE fans and greatly inspired by People’s Elbows, Choke Slams and Stunners. Swapan Sir used to catch trouble makers and order them to take POSITION. This term meant that the student is supposed to bend while resting his hands on the table and thereby exposing his butt to the thrashing of the cane. One teacher used “Sideburns Pull”, another mastered the art of “Finger Pinch” while one of them always left stains of “Kuwaai” on our books on a regular basis and so there would be no resale value of our books by the end of the academic year. All of them were characters and unforgettable but Mihir Sir was something else. “Ami ulka…ami jhonja”…he would announce while entering the class and then handpicked boys to perform in the class. I still don't know what that meant but it did mean that entertainment would start soon. I was once asked to dance and I made a fool out of myself before the whole class. My bhangra that day would have made all the Sardars forget theirs only if YouTube was functional then. I sucked big time then and I still do as far as dancing is concerned. Now, you guys don’t think that I nursed the ambition of learning bhangra since that day and hence I narrowed down my search for a bride to a Punjaban. As weird as his antics were yet his innovative “2 Minutes to Fame” routine helped me atleast to tolerate Science which was a pain in the A…Brains actually.

But Science had advantages too. Those students who participated in Science Exhibitions got good lunch whereas quiz enthusiasts like us had to make do with poor canteen food. Being a rebel though, I gate crashed during one such exhibition and started looking for a stall with easiest Scientific Model. And I found a friend of mine explaining Balanced Diet to delegates and so I forcefully convinced him to take a break. Balanced Diet was easy to explain and the moment we got our lunch coupons, I vanished to balance my diet.

I had a gala time for seven good years. We were so happy with our lives with very little to think about. We didn’t even care about girls around us except for those five minutes after school hours and outside our school gates when those angels from Pine Mount School headed home from school. Pine Mount School….wow….beautiful girls but most importantly our favourite destination for a game of cricket after school hours. We used to climb the walls and enjoy the lush greens beside the Lady Hydari Park. They tried to stop us and filled cement into those holes in the wall but a sports enthusiast used his sledgehammer to good effect and the Principal of that school had to wire fence the entire perimeter. But we had alternatives in Sports Club Ground and Eid-Gah. Talking of Eid-Gah, I remember that I had once got down into the stream that ran along that ground to fetch the ball but all I found was heaps and heaps of mud. I walked for 20 minutes through the busiest of localities to reach home with mud till my waist. My mother almost fainted but soon she regained her composure to do some “Dhulaai”…first mine and then that of my school uniform. And yeah my complexion is not this way because of that SPA treatment. I was born to be “a bit short of Tall, Dark and Handsome”.

That feeling of winning the match for my class in the Inter-Class meet, winning the Chess championship in school, winning the 2^nd Prize in 200 metres and Long Jump events (there were only two participants though…shshshshh), lot many prizes in Quiz competitions etc., was always awesome and I cherish those memories a lot. We had our naughty moments as well. Throwing off rotis and sabzi daily through the class window and onto the roof of Dr.Siddiqui, porn magazines in the class, breaking tubelights and window panes, breaking the procession in the middle of road and running towards the school like the rampant bulls from the Tomatina Festival.

Run up to the Board exams, we had lot of fun playing cricket matches at Aveek’s house after tuition classes at Mohitosh Sir’s place. I really owe it to him and Hironmoy Sir for being so wonderful teachers. Especially. Hironmoy sir was so happy those days after receiving a letter from Queen Elizabeth who appreciated and recognized his work on British history. Unfortunately, Sir passed away before he could meet the Queen. Xth Board is seen as a first major hurdle in a student’s life and our teachers had very high hopes on our batch going by the laurels we bought to our school in Scholarship Examinations. But it was not to be. I hated Science and Geography and so I preferred to ignore most part of the Question Paper and I missed out on a rank because of those two subjects. However, my favourite teacher (my father) never said anything and got sweets for me when the results were declared but I know it would have hurt him when he had to answer this question a hundred times….”What happened???....How did Ayan miss out on a Rank????” I knew that I lost one great opportunity to gift him happiness. I did make amends by securing a good rank in XIIth and I could feel his elation when he hugged me. I got a rank again in Graduation but still it hurts when I look back at that missed opportunity. This was a great humbling experience for me and I had emerged as a better person. The day of my result was the last time I had been there. I touched Sujit Sir’s feet and bade adieu to Laban Bengali Boys’ Higher Secondary School. My status at that point was:

“Forgot how to write in Bengalee and Hindi, never knew how to talk in English, never spoke with any girl and yet enrolled myself in a co-ed course in Commerce at St.Edmund’s College, an institute started by Irish brothers. SCARY TIMES AHEAD!!!!”

The decision turned out wonderful and I turned out O.K too.

"Laban School-er Cheley Ni???...Great". Awesum days in Awesum School!!!..

One fine morning way back in the winters of 1988, my parents took me to a strange looking place where I could see a huge gathering of tiny tots all dressed in similar colours. But I was happy for I was wearing new clothes, new shoes and to top that all had a new School Bag. But little did I realise then that the school Bag carried stuff that would put my patience to test for 20 odd years. I guess I enjoyed the chaos that day for my Ma says that I did not cry while other parents were having a torrid time consoling their kids. Next day was a different story though. While other kids started to settle down, I decided to start crying. This was my way to maintain the balance between the chaos and the silence. First shade of my personality revealed itself and I am still that way (…no I don’t cry anymore). Yes, I hate Silence because it makes my life boring and scary. One exception is the silence inside a Church. Somehow I am at peace with myself there.

My School looked beautiful. Assam Type Building painted in sky blue as if to inspire students to fly high and achieve great heights. The structure was intimidating for me initially but then I came to know later that the building had enough space only to accommodate primary section. Over the course of those two decades, I had the fortune of  learning from some really good teachers but the teachers at Laban Bengali Boys’ Primary School were simply awesome. The tiny bit of goodness in me is largely due to my parents and the teachers like Bodo Mashima, Choto Mashima, Shobhana Mashima and Eshu Mashima. The great care that they took of students at such tender age is unbelievable. They knew how to instil discipline in us. That Carrot and Stick funda which we read while doing our MBAs was experienced by me way back then. That is why I feel MBA degree is just a Degree that makes you familiar with business jargons. “Jaali Bet” hurt but it was effective. It was hardly used by them but the mere sight of it was enough then. None of them are there now and the school is not the same as well. The vacuum that they left is hard to fill. Then there was Didi who cleaned the shit of all the kids day in and day out but there was never a moment when a child could feel that he or she was not at home. All the parents trusted her and knew that she would take great care of the children.

Yeah the most important element of this school was that it was a co-ed and for the next 5 years I had the company of a few girls but we would wonder then why those girls were getting the special privilege of studying in a Boys’ school. The best testimony to the fact that Girls spoil Boys, could be found in my school as the Girls were not allowed to seek admission from Class IV onwards. After all, those were the crucial years for a Boy and the administration thought that nothing should distract the talented bunch. The medium of instruction was in bengalee.While other children studied Black Sheeps, Humptys and Dumptys, we enjoyed “Haradhoner doshti cheley”. Further, while other students studied in KGs, we studied in the system of A’s and B’s for the first two years. My friends in my colony could not understand and I did not bother much as I was in love with my school. Infact, those kids were envious of me as my school hours started at 11 O’Clock while they had to be in class by 9 AM. This is where I took a liking to the number “Three” and almost all through to Xth Standard, I never let it slip. My father used to tell me that there are two more ranks above the third rank but how could have I let down my friends Suman Bhattacharjee and Saurit Kar.  They trusted me a great deal but still I got the Second Rank once (in IInd standard if I can recollect) to please my father and take that Badminton racket from him. That very year I also scored a perfect hundred in Mathematics. I actually felt a bit odd and decided not to make such mistake again in future. I had the fiercest competitor in Smita Das for the third rank. Four of us were quite popular with teachers and every year we used to win prizes for our performance in the examination. They were especially pleased when we secured ranks in the State Scholarship Examination and our parents were so thrilled that they threw party for the teachers by turns. I was a regular at Cultural functions with poetry recitations and I really enjoyed that time. After the initial few days of awkwardness, a kid makes his first set of friends at school. And then he never looks back. I was lucky to have my cousin Abhijeet Chakraborty as  my classmate. We were buddies and had a great time together. I still can’t forget that scene when one of the teachers hung his school bag on the Black Board because he was caught trying to jump out of the window before the school bell rang. That sight of this little kid jumping to reach the school bag was hilarious and is still fresh in my mind.

We also enjoyed running and sliding into the class after lunch. It was the APE ACT….one did and others followed. The best part about those days would be on the way back home with my aunt. I would thrust the bag into her hands and then would enjoy myself on the road. Walking on top of the walls or trying to beat the speeding cars while crossing the road or hiding myself in the crowd gathered to watch the Snake tricks at Laban Bazaar. And of course I used to get the angry stares of ladies on the road for most often than not I used to step on the foot of those poor pedestrians. My poor aunt had a tough time controlling me and she would have been relieved to see me grow up enough to feel shy of being seen with a guardian at school. Another “cute” act of mine that I remember from those days was that I had gone shopping for sweets with just 50 Paise in my pocket. I was able to convince the shop owner without even uttering a word. It was only in the evening when my father narrated the story to everybody at home that I realised that my face and not my skills did the trick at the shop. My father paid the shop owner for that piece of sweet and he bought a few more of those. Everybody had a great laugh at this.

It has been 18 years since I had been to my first school and I miss those teachers. I thought that I would be able to acquaint you with my school life in one post but now I realise that I have to break the story into two halves. In fact the flow of this post has been much unstructured. Memories just flooded in as I started writing. You have just got familiar with “Ayan” in primary school. Come back to see him go to the High School. Lot to share from that phase as well.