I have always been a very 'attached' person. This has caused me more unhappiness than I should have allowed.
Guess there is a reason why life happens in phases. You need to molt your past life like a snake skin and make room for new experiences. I should be grateful that I have what matters to me the most. It is time to grow up and beyond.
P.S. Thank God, there is more beauty in this world to heal you, than there is injury to infect you.
Bits and pieces is what I have. I have never tried to comprehend the whole of myself at once.I know it will take time. In my journey towards self realization- be a witness and share your thoughts. This has been more than just my web log since May 2005. Some posts are copyright of Genesis Publishers.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Where is the catch?
Imagine yourself lounging in a spa pool at night with a clear sky above and the stars shining bright. You are supposed to relax, right? But all you can think of is a hidden sniper somewhere. That maybe the outcome of watching too many CSI episodes too, but my point is - we are turning bankrupt when it comes to the capacity of experiencing pure bliss.
We have let others and ourselves let us down too many times to trust in our own happiness anymore. 'Where is the catch?' we seem too busy asking ourselves, instead of assuring ourselves 'There is no catch.'
Ever chased butterflies as a kid? Not so much to catch them, as to run around those beautiful creatures. We didn't worry much about stepping in a puddle while chasing one, did we? The joy is in the process. We have had too many goals, too many deadlines, too many destinations to reach to know it is not the same when the journey is over. It is in the pursuit.
I don't ask you to idle away in useless pursuits, but pause for a while, look around and breath easy. Find joy in whatever you are chasing and say to yourself - this is the best time of my life.
We have let others and ourselves let us down too many times to trust in our own happiness anymore. 'Where is the catch?' we seem too busy asking ourselves, instead of assuring ourselves 'There is no catch.'
Ever chased butterflies as a kid? Not so much to catch them, as to run around those beautiful creatures. We didn't worry much about stepping in a puddle while chasing one, did we? The joy is in the process. We have had too many goals, too many deadlines, too many destinations to reach to know it is not the same when the journey is over. It is in the pursuit.
I don't ask you to idle away in useless pursuits, but pause for a while, look around and breath easy. Find joy in whatever you are chasing and say to yourself - this is the best time of my life.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
For Amiga
I absolutely needed to make some major progress in my 'To-do' list today, but the snowstorm alert shelved my plans. Now, I am staying indoors and doing my laundry one last time, before I leave Boston on Friday.
I met Clara, the Puerto Rican housekeeping lady, who has a very sweet disposition and uses the endearing 'amiga' every time she sees me. I think the first time I really noticed her was when I had an argument with my brother and I walked out in the snow in my flip flops. She shouted after me: ' Amiga, you will catch a cold. ' Inadvertently, I came back with frostnip feet and with immense gratitude towards Clara for trying to warn me.
Over the years, during my stay in Boston, Clara always gave me weather alerts ( Though I checked it online before I left the house.) She usually said: 'It is cold today' or 'It is not so cold today.' Sometimes, she would tell me how much she longed to be in Puerto Rico with her family but there were not enough jobs there. At the end of every conversation, she opined: 'You is a good woman amiga. Not many good people here.' It made me feel happy and helped me believe in my inherent goodness.
Today, when I hugged her goodbye, she started to weep, saying : 'You is a good friend. I miss you amiga. I will remember you always' I felt sad. It is not every day when someone cries because they think they will never see you again. It had happened before when I was about to leave Noida but that is another story. I prayed: 'Have a good life, Clara.' and gently patted her shoulder.
I met Clara, the Puerto Rican housekeeping lady, who has a very sweet disposition and uses the endearing 'amiga' every time she sees me. I think the first time I really noticed her was when I had an argument with my brother and I walked out in the snow in my flip flops. She shouted after me: ' Amiga, you will catch a cold. ' Inadvertently, I came back with frostnip feet and with immense gratitude towards Clara for trying to warn me.
Over the years, during my stay in Boston, Clara always gave me weather alerts ( Though I checked it online before I left the house.) She usually said: 'It is cold today' or 'It is not so cold today.' Sometimes, she would tell me how much she longed to be in Puerto Rico with her family but there were not enough jobs there. At the end of every conversation, she opined: 'You is a good woman amiga. Not many good people here.' It made me feel happy and helped me believe in my inherent goodness.
Today, when I hugged her goodbye, she started to weep, saying : 'You is a good friend. I miss you amiga. I will remember you always' I felt sad. It is not every day when someone cries because they think they will never see you again. It had happened before when I was about to leave Noida but that is another story. I prayed: 'Have a good life, Clara.' and gently patted her shoulder.
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
I wish I were there
Dad receiving President's Police Medal for Distinguished Service from Dr DY Patil, the Governor of Tripura on 26th Jan '10
I remembered the last time Dad received a medal. The whole family was present, including uncles, aunts and cousins. Most accomplishments are considered individual efforts, but my father always acknowledged his family, specially his wife, on occasions such as these. This time even Mom couldn't be around. She is a headmistress now and had to hoist the flag in her school on Republic Day. After that, she tried to make it to the Assam Rifles grounds for the ceremony, but missed it.
There are a lot of families who wish their kids to move to greener pastures but progress comes with a price. I have missed weddings in the family owing to academic commitments. And I am sure they have missed me.
We might have as basic amenities what some people would consider luxuries, but I miss the warmth of affection only a mother can give, the moments in conversations I can have only with my father, and the secrets I can whisper only to my favorite cousin.
Indulging in these fond memories is in vain though. Home, as I knew it as a child, isn't there anymore. We have moved to a bigger house. Most of the younger ones have moved out and have settled down in different places scattered all over the globe. An occasional green icon on a chat window or a phone call reminding me that we share something in common.
There is nothing much I can do, except choose to be with someone who can be family to me. I wish I had the emotional range of a teaspoon or never had the spare time to miss my family. It is true no one spends the entire life with us except ourselves. Thank God for my friends.
Saturday, January 09, 2010
Friday, January 08, 2010
Mind your language
Years ago, I had to write an essay for my Bengali class: 'Aami Ingreji bhasha keno pochndo kori na' (Why don't I like the English language) The teacher, Mr. Kapil Bhattacharjee, had even asked us to compare it with Bengali and conclude why we loved it over English.
It was tough. At that age, probably the toughest thing I was confronted with. Can you ever say whether you love your mother more than your father? How can you compare two languages- both of which have taught you to think and speak your mind? I looked upon it as a challenge. SKD had once opined that the purpose of a composition is to bluff convincingly. The trouble was - where to start?
I was taught in an English medium school, my best friend in Kindergarten spoke Hindi off class hours, and I had the toughest time spelling 'chair' in Bengali for my mother in Standard II. However, in Standard V, I borrowed 'Dhaatri Devata', one of the prescribed textbooks for ICSE exams, from my elder brother who was in Standard X. The fact did some rounds in my family, courtesy : my eldest maternal aunt, and I was hailed as some language prodigy. The plain truth was that I simply got curious about the story on seeing the cover page illustration showing a man behind bars and a woman visiting him.
I own a copy of Geetanjali I bought at a Bangladeshi grocery store in Somerville. I'm crazy about those Uttam- Suchitra starrer romantic classics, where the protagonists merely stare at each other and everything is conveyed. I love Bengali food and I don't think I can ever give up my 'maccher jhol' (Fish curry and rice -stereotype favorite of all Bengalis. But I do know some Bengalis who don't like to eat fish.)
Does these attributes make me a true Bengali? Any Indophile, thuri Banglaphile can do that, and yet retain his/ her identity. Then, why if someone who does not do it will not be a Bengali in the true sense?
I will always be a Bengali. It is the identity I was born with. I love my mother tongue. It is one of the sweetest signals my auditory nerves transmit to my brain. But if I'm confused or excited or upset I will blurt out in English, because that is what I do. Take it or leave it. Don't judge it.
P.S. About the essay
I finished writing it with some help from my paternal grandfather, who was an authoritarian on languages. (I regret not learning Sanskrit from him.) He usually checked my essays when I finished writing them, but this time around I managed to squeeze a few pointer- about Michael Madhusudan Dutta, about the inconsistent phonetics of English and so on and so forth. It was one of the toughest essays I wrote at school.
It was tough. At that age, probably the toughest thing I was confronted with. Can you ever say whether you love your mother more than your father? How can you compare two languages- both of which have taught you to think and speak your mind? I looked upon it as a challenge. SKD had once opined that the purpose of a composition is to bluff convincingly. The trouble was - where to start?
I was taught in an English medium school, my best friend in Kindergarten spoke Hindi off class hours, and I had the toughest time spelling 'chair' in Bengali for my mother in Standard II. However, in Standard V, I borrowed 'Dhaatri Devata', one of the prescribed textbooks for ICSE exams, from my elder brother who was in Standard X. The fact did some rounds in my family, courtesy : my eldest maternal aunt, and I was hailed as some language prodigy. The plain truth was that I simply got curious about the story on seeing the cover page illustration showing a man behind bars and a woman visiting him.
I own a copy of Geetanjali I bought at a Bangladeshi grocery store in Somerville. I'm crazy about those Uttam- Suchitra starrer romantic classics, where the protagonists merely stare at each other and everything is conveyed. I love Bengali food and I don't think I can ever give up my 'maccher jhol' (Fish curry and rice -stereotype favorite of all Bengalis. But I do know some Bengalis who don't like to eat fish.)
Does these attributes make me a true Bengali? Any Indophile, thuri Banglaphile can do that, and yet retain his/ her identity. Then, why if someone who does not do it will not be a Bengali in the true sense?
I will always be a Bengali. It is the identity I was born with. I love my mother tongue. It is one of the sweetest signals my auditory nerves transmit to my brain. But if I'm confused or excited or upset I will blurt out in English, because that is what I do. Take it or leave it. Don't judge it.
P.S. About the essay
I finished writing it with some help from my paternal grandfather, who was an authoritarian on languages. (I regret not learning Sanskrit from him.) He usually checked my essays when I finished writing them, but this time around I managed to squeeze a few pointer- about Michael Madhusudan Dutta, about the inconsistent phonetics of English and so on and so forth. It was one of the toughest essays I wrote at school.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
How well do you know me?
Just some fun stuff if you really want to kill time.'All of the above' is an option too. You can reply with unlisted choices if you think they are viable enough. Enjoy !
A. What was my nickname(s) growing up?
- Hitler
- Lara
- Captain
- Mayataru
- At a house party
- At a restaurant
- In an airport
- At the back of my yard
- An author
- A doctor
- A danseuse
- Sherlock Holmes
- The Sound of Music
- Nun's Story
- Black Narcissus
- Come to the Stable
- 6 years
- 2 years
- 5 months
- 30 secs
- My eyes
- My smile
- My hair
- Can't be listed publicly
- Farting
- Picking nose
- Scratching groin
- Jacking off
- Salzburg, Austria
- Backwaters of Kerala
- Monasteries in Ladakh
- Wildlife parks in Montana
I. Which color clothes was I forbidden to buy anymore, with a threat from my mother to stop my wardbrobe allowance if I didn't comply?
- Black
- Blue
- Pink
- Green
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