Yun toh har shaam ummido mein guzar jaati hai
aaj kuch baat hai jo shaam pe rona aya

kabhi taqdeer ka matam kabhi duniya ka gila
manzil-e-ishq mein har ghum pe rona aya

chariots of bijoygarh

I am a rickshaw freak. I have almost given up on auto rides to college nowadays. There are many reasons behind my embracing this slightly more expensive way of getting to college. I have quite a few options. A 45seconds walk from my house lands me on the road connecting Baghajatin and Ranikuthi. This road is perpendicular to both the No. 5 and the No. 6 routes.

Now that I think of it, it is particularly difficult to draw a map of Bijoygarh. It has so many lanes connecting itself to Jadavpur, Golfgreen, Pallisri, Ranikuthi, Bikramgarh and Sree Colony, that it is still difficult for me to keep track of all these lanes and bylanes. Even though I hang out here in chayer dokaans. Jai hok. Apart from the perpendicular road, all other roads are very narrow. Well, even the perpendicular road is one third of something that even Howlie would be amazed at, and say "o baba, koto boro raasta" (Read Esplanade). This she said, by the way, and even did an impromptu dance on the very road mentioned.

JU is not very far away from my place. It is a 20 minutes walk, yes. No. 20 minutes only when you have a packet of chips, ice cream and a good buddy to walk with you. Otherwise it takes half an hour. Or maybe more.

Uff. I digress.

The perpendicular road has a lot of autos. Not many LPG ones because beyond Jadavpur, the old autos still reign supreme. The people of Bijoygarh are also slightly skeptical, often even suspicious about these new autos. I can take one of these autos to Baghajatin, which is the epicenter of all chaos of the traffic kind in the city, I believe. From Baghajatin I can take another auto (here the new LPG ones go all the way to Gariahat, while the old ones go till Jadavpur Thana). This will be two auto rides for Rs. 9.50. But there's a catch. I can get the auto to Bengal Lamp only after say, 12 noon, when there are not enough passengers to bully. Otherwise 8B is where you have to get off. Which is a waste of time and money.

Another option is the Bijoygarh - Howrah mini which traces a strange route. It comes from Bijoygarh College to the perpendicular road, gets to Baghajatin and then straight to Howrah. This bus can take me to Gate No. 4 for 4 bucks. Very naaice. But the problem is that they go really really slow till they reach 8B. Why? Because it is like the warm up lap. And they pick up even those who seem to be casually strolling from some random bylane towards the bus. This bus makes you feel like a king. It actually waits for you in the warm up lap. I like it when I am the one for whom the bus is waiting. I like to see the expectant faces staring at me from the window. But I also feel a little pressure when I cross the road. Christ. Everyone is gawking at me, waiting for me to get on the bus. I hate it when I have to wait for Bappa's sister who will go only till Lalka Pukur, or Shopu kaka who fucking stops the bus, walks to the mor, buys a paan, chews it for some time, smiles at the conductor (with whom he is on first name terms), gives money to the paanwala and what not. Grr. Even I know the conductors because if you hang out in Bijoygarh Maath you get to know them. They pay for my tea, I pay for their tea etc. But no, I haven't been able to build up the camaraderie that Shopu Kaka has with them. Sigh.

Another option I have is to walk till Pallisri. But that route means socializing with way too many people. And when I 'm getting late for class it is not a good idea. I take that route when I am coming back home. This is because I have to meet Gidduda, his father (who always gives me a toffee), Mukundo, Hubba, Dudhli, Nantu kaka, Banik, Rajesh and finally Mintuda's mother on the way. Mukundo gives me a khata or a pen (he has a bookshop). Hubba is the Cyber Cafe owning, ex AG dude who always wants to use my phone, Dudhli owns a paan-biri-doodh-bishkoot er dokaan and he always asks me about my mother (whom he refers to as 'Madam'), Nantu kaka is chickenshop owner who tells me if my mother has bought chicken for the day or not. If not, he sends some home, Banik is mudi'r dokaan er maalik who is slightly deaf. But he keeps ice cream for me, so all is fine, Rajesh is my cableman superman who plays the movie I want on Sunday and Mintuda's mother tells me how her son can get me a discount in anything I buy from LG Electronics. Oh. And Gidduda is Gidduda.

So I take the rickshaw. The rickshaw kakas do not ask me where I want to get. If it is around 11:30, they take me straight to Bengal Lamp via the 10 nombor pukur road, which is like a pastoral idyll. I listen to Begum Akhtar and reach college in 8 minutes. There are other advantages of this ride as well. The rickshaw kakas give me change, even if it is 100 taka. That is a BIG plus when you have no change and need to go from point A to point B very fast. This ride is also an environment friendly and pleasant one, with generous doses of mutual understanding. Also, these days, we have some really fancy snazzy red rickshaws in our stand. They look like Ferrari versions of rickshaws, and also have built in FM Radio (which, to the great disappointment of the rickshw kakas, I politely ask to turn off.)

There is much much more I have to say. Maybe I will continue this post. :P

"kar raha tha gham-e-jahaan ka hisaab

aaj tum yaad behisaab aaye"

There will be no phone calls, no children to teach, no yellow taxis, no faces waiting at home, no articles to submit, no meeting to attend, no time to think how time flies, no houses, no papers to write, no meend, no doors, no appetite, no rage, no silence, no music, no poetry, no chrome, no ink pens, no childhood, no age, no pores, no breath.

Then this song will end, I will stub out a cigarette, and finish my drink.

Adieu.

I am growing old. This is an odd feeling. When I was four, I never thought I'd ever be ten. When I was ten, I thought 20 is the time when you are at the peak of your life, with a job, a house and maybe even children. I still think life is over at forty, though there is plenty of evidence, plenty, that suggests the contrary.

I am 22 now. Twenty Two. And guess what, I have a strand of grey hair growing on my brohmotaalu. It is not alone. There are others that accompany it. But there is something different about this one. The silent resolve with which it refuses to settle with the other strands neatly... The fact that it seems to have a mind of its own... It is stubborn, irreversible. It has planted itself in my scalp for good, I tell you. And now it will tell others of its kind what a comfortable place my head is. Then there will be others.

I don't mind grey hair, it looks quite sexy. I don't mind age, too. But surely, there is something uncomfortable about this whole process. It has been abrupt, this growing up. Today, in front of the mirror, when I was thinking about winged purple hippos in electric blue top hats that throw red heart shaped potty on my enemies' buildings in Age of Mythology, I think I grew up.

For the first time, the roots of a grey hair has grown into my brain.

I am growing old.

so much motherchaandni(1) in front and many more on back. so much duty that duty double(2)! no sasuraar. But o mi switty no more pitty(3). and all effing graduate! but what sadness on graduate such fate hallam tenny date po-ma-ma mate on beady(4) plate. cannot take.

but what nice sonnet of the mondal! with ophelia(5) in tow! oh so wow!

bestestest toppestest.

also speaking of toppestest, my Head(6) best and strongest. Happy times here one more time and now see our jolly selves strut across corry corry doory.

neuralgia tablet make me speed oh so nice it feel. but so much missing of bangla do i.

new eclairs by Cadbury taste better than old Eclairs by Cadbury. Many not spot difference so subtell it be. all non eaters(7).

i have many many thing more to say but cannot. because i believe in deferral(8).

NOTES:

1) There can be two kinds of 'Motherchaandni', frontal and backkal. We live in times of Solar Eclipse, which increases Lunar importance.

2)When you have to do two kinds of motherchaandni.

3)The sasuraar evokes fear, the switty evokes pitty. So there you have tradegy.

4)Plastic beads, yellow beads, blue beads, orange beads, crow beads...

5)Ophelia of Bardhaman fame who walked into Bintu Dey's pukur in white thaan singing lewd Bhojpuri songs.

6)Salt and Pepper.

7)Who will be deep fried in lard down down down below.

8) Refer to next note.

But I hate you so much, it is just not funny. Strangely enough, I do not feel sad now. Nor angry. Just a deep deep sense of disgust. It is true that I feel bad. Feeling bad is ok, I know that. But I feel abandoned. Sad. Alone. And all because of a few scraps and a phone call. This is a strange thing. But I swear so bad that I am never never going to return. No.

But sometimes, just sometimes, I feel that things would have been great if it had not turned out this bad. And if I had a loud/ obnoxious/ insane/ quirky or whatever family. Maybe. I did not will it this way. This wretched feeling of weakness strengthens me.

When I miss somethings, I turn to other things. And therefore, like always, I am going to convince myself that I am fine. Only that the trick gets cheaper everyday. And I am running out of distractions.

Puriya Dhanashree

"'Ghalib'-e-Khasta ke bagair kaun se kaam band hain ?  

 roiye zaar-zaar  kya, keejiye haay-haay  kyon ? "