For the love of the written word

"Good friends, good books and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life."

 - Mark Twain

I could trace the start of my journey with books to when I was eleven, but then I would be wrong...it's true that I read my first novel at that age, but my love affair had begun years before as I would listen to my father reading stories from the antics of "Tenida" and his goof ball friends written by Narayan Gangopadhyay (Oh! I loved them so!) and the crazy rhymes of "Abol tabol" composed by Sukumar Roy (literal translation is gibberish, how amazing is that!). I had tried reading comics before reading proper novels, "Tintin", "Archies" and "The Adventures of Asterix" but the pictures were too distracting, instead of reading I would start drawing and coping the pictures from them! I wouldn't have started reading if my parents hadn't insisted that I must (the teachers from my school were complaining that I wouldn't participate in class activities and my language and grammar needed improvement). Hence my father in his infinite wisdom (supposedly!) gifted me an abridged version of the classic "The Treasure Island" by Robert Louis Stevenson and I have never looked back since then...I always had a very active imagination and I needed some words to give life to the pictures in my head, and my gosh! it was so amazing to imagine Long John Silver with his wooden pegged leg, bearing a parrot on his shoulder and Jim Hawkins with his innocent face, I mean what's not to like? I had finally discovered an outlet for my thoughts and imagination, I was hooked! This was followed by "Kidnapped" by the same author, I don't remember much of the story except the scene where the boy is made to climb stairs in pitch darkness without the comfort of a candle and he almost falls since the stairs end abruptly into nothingness! And "Moby Dick", oh what a tale of adventure! Oh gosh! If I have to go on and on about all the books I have read in my life that would be pretty long and not quite engaging, what I would do instead is recount the incident and the book which were pivotal and helped me to walk on ahead in life...And this is absolutely true, these books proved to be my best friends when my life wasn't going well (okay I'll admit what I mean is when life wasn't really good is actually when things are really bad and crappy! the worst ever!!)

I shall with physical injuries and move on to emotional ones. I had been having this intense pain in my lower abdomen sometime in my early twenties which later turned out to be acute appendicitis (not a pretty picture at all) and had to undergo an operation...the operation part and the first day of fuzziness and pain was okay and somewhat bearable, but what really got to me were the the next two days...I had nothing to do, no one to talk to, alone in a sterile hospital bed and I couldn't even walk around....it was hell...I wouldn't have survived through those two days had it not been for "The Talisman", a Stephen King and Peter Straub novel...now I was and still am really into gory horror stories and had been a great fan of the Goosebumps series penned by R.L.Stine, in my early teens, although growing up I wasn't really satisfied with the simplistic plot and prose (it was quite juvenile and my sister could kill me for saying this since I think she liked them even after adolescence and the pre-and post? twenty phase!)...from R.L.Stine I had moved on to Stephen King, which satisfied my need for gore as well as complex story telling...and this particular book about a boy trying to save his mother's life and his frequent journeys to the Stephen king's version of the Neverland, "the Territories" a strange fantasy land, just sealed my loyalty to him and his franchise forever, I never tire of a Stephen King novel (except the one about a dog, "Cujo", couldn't finish that one for the life of me!).

This was a major injury but there were very many times when I had sprained my ankle (since I hate paying attention to where I am going usually, easily distracted by everything that is happening around me I often fall down and hurt myself!) and often during such times I would resort to Miss Marple and Monsieur Poirot to help me pass the tedious moments that I am trapped in bed....I had also without fail needed a new mystery by Agatha Christie every time I traveled from Kolkata (home) to Durgapur (Hostel aka HELL! where I had spent four years to earn a B.Tech degree), the train ride took around 3 hours and the journey started from Howrah in the wee hours of the morning and the book would help me stay awake through the three hours journey. I usually traveled alone those mornings and there were high chances of me sleeping through the stop to Durgapur (train was bound for Dhanbad!) which would have been quite disastrous to say the least! It was during the four years I had spent in Durgapur that I read “The Rainbow” by D.H. Lawrence, it was such a hard book to read! I had read his short stories before but never a full-fledged novel and I had to consult a dictionary for many words for I couldn't quite get the meaning of and there were so many of them! Usually when I don't exactly know what a particular word means I just read the sentence a number of times and try to grasp the meaning of the sentence and this helps me to understand what the word means but didn't help with Lawrence and his ornate style! No matter how much I crib and cry it was worth it, such a beautifully written story, some scenes from the book are seared in my memory even now, the part where Anna, heavily pregnant dances naked in her bedroom and Will her husband sees her dancing in such abandonment, feeling alienated from her, amazing! Such intense contorted feelings!

Few years down the line, after the exuberance of early twenties had settled, I was going through a rough phase, recovering from a break up and a bad relationship, and it was during those bleak years when I discovered Haruki Murakami. I had at last started reading “Kafta on the shore” after a friend and my sister recommended that I must...and it was such a surreal experience that I moved about in a dream-like state for the whole month...every time I read any of his books (my favourite till date is "Hard boiled wonderland and the end of the world", "The wind-up bird chronicle" comes a close second) I lose my perception of reality, it is essentially the best and most “trippy” feeling I have ever had and I absolutely love it! Few years back I discovered Amitav Ghosh, a voice from Bengal, he restored my faith in story telling (I was losing interest in contemporary authors, real popular ones who wrote absolute crap, this was more of an intellectual injury if I may say so!!) and his depiction of Sundarbans in “the Hungry tide” did poetic justice to the beauty of the mangrove forest...I had been to Sundarbans as a child but after reading the book, I had to go again to lose myself in the lush green forest along the forking river. And of course, J.K Rowling and the Harry Potter series, I must admit I used to make fun of my sister and my friends who were great fans, I discovered this world of magic a little late but my word! What a rich world! Absolutely loved it, I remember finishing the whole series of books in a week!! I couldn't wait to read to the end, a beautiful read indeed! 

 In recent times, due to a busy adult life comprising of work, marriage and what-nots (often laziness since it's easier to lose myself staring at the computer screen watching TV series and moves rather than reading which is at times rather taxing on the imagination at least for me since I imagine whatever I read as if I am watching the scene right before my eyes!), my habit of reading has diminished, earlier I would finish one book in a week, now it takes a month or two...but I don't really sweat it out, since books are such an important part of my life, no matter how busy or stressed I get I would need a book when I travel, sometimes before going to bed and often just like that...they are like old friends, they just keep popping up...and I do feel pangs of guilt when I ignore them too much...but they never cease to provide me with a sense of warmth and comfort.

Happiness...

It was awfully hot and humid, I had been waiting for a ride for quite a while, when eventually I squeezed in the back seat of an auto-rickshaw. A warm gust of wind ruffled my hair, bringing in some strange smell of dust and sweat...it wasn't really turning out to be a great day....I had been feeling listless for quite sometime now, a lot of things were hell bent on ruining my happiness. Well, I reasoned with myself, maybe it was just jitters.... I had decided to get married to my five year long boyfriend, there's bound to be some nerves...There were lots of things I wasn't sure of, whether I was capable of such a commitment, whether I had become too much of a cynic...I had been quite a romantic during my teens, but I had grown out of those adolescent dreams long back, life had conjured a reality from the dreams, which were not quite interchangeable.....to cut a long story short, I was terrified of making a wrong decision. The auto braked suddenly, and a youngish boy got in. He looked quite chirpy, and his happiness bothered me. He was yapping into his mobile, talking about a prospective job interview which he had day after. I didn't mean to eavesdrop but he was literally shouting into speaker, so there...As I sat squished between a heavy sweating lady and the boy, excerpts from his conversation came floating to me...somehow, his naive optimism touched me and I wondered why don't people reach out to others...I mean we search for a sense of connection throughout our lives, yet on any public transport, people go out of their way to avoid other fellow travelers...so I decided to let down the boundary....

“Hey, I don't mean to pry, but I heard you talking on the phone...”I stuttered wondering how foolish I sounded, thank goodness I had the good sense to wait till he hung up at least, “well, I just wanted to wish you luck for your interview...” I trailed off, thinking maybe that's what boundaries are for, feeling stupid....The auto had stopped to let him down, he got down, paid the auto driver his due, and smiled at me, “Thank you!”. I felt instantly relieved and my weary day all of a sudden felt a lot lighter. I smiled thinking how I was dwelling on trivial stuffs, instead decided to focus on listening to some music.

The time I reached home, my good humor had dialed down a lot, it could have been the weather as well, why won't it rain?? I found my mum sitting by the veranda as usual. She liked watching people go by the street. I went in for a quick shower, and I seated myself beside her when I was done, wondering what she liked about watching people passing by...we started talking about some things, she was talking about my wedding and what preparations we needed to do, and what not...then, she started reminiscing about her marriage...Now, all of us have some preconceptions about marriage and relationships, and most of them are steeped in childhood memories of our parents and loved ones...so I knew my parents were very close and most of all, they seemed like great friends...they would spend a lot of time talking to each other...but I was not quite aware of the romantic angle between them, I had discovered a bunch of letters from my father to my mum, as a child quite by accident, but they were indecipherable for me at that moment...and somehow, they were lost over time, so I didn't get a chance to really read them...I had grown up with the notion that my father was a person wrapped in his own world, sometimes I felt he was a tad cold...there was a incident, I remember when I was quite young, my mum was peeling mangoes and she cut herself on the knife, I was scared and I ran to my father saying, “She cut herself”. He was reading a newspaper, and he barely looked up, I was struck by his indifference....I was awakened from my reveries by mother's voice, and she was sharing an incident from her early days of marriage, before I was born...

Years ago, just after they got married, my mum had suffered from a brief spell of problems with infertility, which her gynecologist had assured would pass in time. But, one could imagine, how much she might have suffered from subtle or not too subtle comments or nudges or concerns from relatives and friends...and the situation would have gone worse if her mother-in-law would have made any comments, it was precisely at this stage when my father intervened and he spoke quite firmly to his mother (which was rather bold on his part since he was the quintessential mother's child!), making it quite clear if anyone from the family made any more snide or other comments about her, they would move out....I was quite surprised to say the least! People surprise you, to say the least, this was the same person who had seemed so cold and indifferent to me, or maybe we assume the worst about people pretty quickly.

A sudden flash of thunder started me, it was raining. I smiled, thinking how easily I had given up on love and romance, when I had my heart broken once or twice, without waiting for the weather to change...and now when there's a chance of happiness, I am too scared to reach out, just as I was apprehensive to talk to the boy in the auto and the way I was pretentious enough to believe that I knew my parent's relationship from outside. They had shared 35 years of togetherness and my mum still relished how he had stood up for her that day....it was the same warmth creeping up my heart that I had felt in the auto when the stranger had smiled at me, and I felt grateful to be alive, maybe a little bent and a lot out of shape, but life was definitely good.

A Leap of Un-Faith

There was a time when I thought I would be seventeen forever...and I longed to believe in magic, fairy tales and all things fanciful....but alas.....I had to grow up, to realize magic and fairy-tales are good enough to last on paper. I had been quite spiritually inclined those days, if not religious, and was pretty much a believer in almighty God (who definitely was my best friend, since I am the protagonist in my story right?! I was the best thing that ever happened on earth and of course his favourite child, etc., etc.)....How did the myth shatter? Hmm, that's a tough one, and it didn't happen overnight, it took some years and few jolts of reality to wake this princess up from her sweet dream. I was afraid of sounding cynical, but then being cynical is no crime, although people might say otherwise....Does it  really take courage to be hopeful or is it delusional? Or is it more likely that the cynics are the true brave lot, after all it takes courage to call a spade a spade, right?

The story of my faith started early, when one evening on the eleventh year of my life I suddenly realized while staring at my feet, I had no clue about how I came about or where I would go once the lights go out!!!! I was terrified...it was the most horrifying feeling in the world...like being engulfed in darkness.....so I figured I would need to find out how life came about and how my life fits in the whole deal. There were many explanations, the one I was more inclined towards was evolution (I remember visiting Science City, and being absolutely fascinated about the origins of dinosaurs, the Cretaceous age, etc)...Then came another explanation, which like the story of Pi had some colourful creatures in it and was quite interesting as well. I looked up to few people who strengthened my belief in this story, a person who held a very important spot in my mind and heart, often said that the immortal beings had created mortals to understand themselves, like Aurobindo Ghosh's popular symbol of two inverted triangle or the famous painting of Michelangelo "Creation of Adam", the idea was both human and immortal beings were reaching out to each other through creation...Now the real question is, who created who? That's a tough one indeed...

I have often thought that the whole concept of a higher being and the meaning of one's existence is sort of ironic in the sense on one hand people are surrendering their capability of making any thing, be it good or bad, happen to some other power, for instance something good happens it's His wish, something bad happens likewise, so there is this sense of giving up power to some one or something else, and on the other hand they are making themselves very important in thinking every thing that has happened or is happening to them is not because of chance, it's because they are special, that some power is guiding those events in their life...Now that is a little delusional, at least I think so, but then again I feel I can understand how difficult it is to understand that everything that has happened, in fact my very existence is just by chance, a tad bit of difference in events and I won't exist anymore...So I can understand faith, in fact I have always understood faith but I could never completely accept it....I mean I was spiritually inclined and everything, but there was this nagging bit of doubt hanging about my head which I could never shake off...I guess I wasn't okay with the fact that there were more times that my prayers went unanswered or something completely random happened, and I couldn't really bring myself to say "Oh it's His wish!" ...why would it be his wish to torture me if I am this special that he had this whole life planned for me, didn't make much sense to me...and around this time (I can't exactly pin point when) the doubts were becoming too clear, the voices in my head too hard to ignore, I couldn't bubble wrap myself in faith any more and soon enough the bubble burst when I saw the people who I looked up to, people who gave me such pretty stories about creation and magic were pretty creepy actually in real life....They were liars, delusional and even perverted....and my whole world came crashing....but then I am quite grateful to these creeps since if not for them I couldn't have crossed the line from belief to "disbelief"! I would have been still stuck in my rut, trying to believe in stories I couldn't quite find logical or convincing enough....so far so good...

The problem started after crossing the line when I realized even though I wasn't much of a believer how much I had relied on faith, even to do simple every day stuff...like boarding a plane, who can i pray to for safe landings? or trying for a job ? or most terrifying of it all, sitting in a dentist's chair hoping my doctor could do no wrong? Who can i turn to when i realize there is no one there? and once you have crossed you cannot uncross, the doubts would run too deep, anyhow I had my doubts before but now, not possible, oh no! Well there are good stuffs to "disbelief" as well, looking at a firefly I can breathe deeply and say "Ah, Luciferase!" (The cool yellowish light of fireflies is created by the enzyme luciferase) and not feel like a total geek (which I am, but what the heck!)....earlier I tried to associate fireflies in the garden with magic...I know, I was silly....and the good feelings of love, friendliness and compassion, maybe be ruled by hormones and chemical but does that make them any less beautiful or real? As was in the novel "The life of Pi", we are conflicted between two stories, the one with tiger and the one without, and the choice remains with us to choose which ever one we like remembering this important fact the story is still being discovered, so nothing is set in stone....I am partial to the one with big bang, evolution and no immortal beings, and I am still trying to wrap my mind around that...I still face a lot of hurdles and hiccups, facing my fears is the toughest one there.....so here I am trying to take that leap of "Un-faith" , so lets see where this roads leads....

The Day of Love

"I don't understand why Cupid was chosen to represent Valentine's Day. When I think about romance, the last thing on my mind is a short, chubby toddler coming at me with a weapon." - Author Unknown.

       It seems to me that this day has been done to death, from Archie's, in the good old days to online shopping sites, in present times, people go looking for a perfect token of love...but the question remains is there really a perfect way of showing someone you love them in one day? When I see social sites flooded with advertisements and personal declarations on this day, I feel a little nauseated...selfies with big fluffy teddies (a gift of course), or some other trite stuff...I don't know, it feels somewhat silly or am I just a tad bit jealous, since we (my partner and I) decided not to exchange gifts this year....well, I have realized its difficult to plan surprises when you live with the person, or maybe we are just too lazy to get into the whole act of planning a surprise! And there's another part of the planning that we didn't do, how should one celebrate this day, go for a quiet dinner at home or some where fancy....so when a friend of mine asked me what are we doing today, I didn't really have an answer, the funny part is that she didn't have any clue as well about her plans with her husband!!! This takes me way back when I was in the eighth grade, and this day was as big as it was years ago in 1998...I didn't have a special someone in my life at that time, and there were some girls who like these girls who strut their gifts in social sites, would parade their cards which they had received from some admirer or the other( a big thing then!) in front of me...instead of feeling sad, I had an idea, I went to the gift shop after school that day (I think it was called “Jingles”) and got me a card...I figured it made sense, since I loved myself the most and I engraved the same emotion in the card as well.....I am not sure whether this act of mine borders on self obsession or pity or maybe something better, like self-sufficiency! But I do feel it is special to get an anonymous card, its like an unexpected phone call or a smile from a crush who otherwise wouldn't give you the time of the day....Its quite like this feeling described in a scene from the movie “Chung-king Express”, a guy when dumped by his girlfriend of five years, jogs to sweat out all the water from his body so that there isn't any left for him to cry...so on his birthday, he decides to leave his pager behind since he expects no phone calls, but he gets a call from a woman who wished him happy birthday, (I won't get into details since that tends to spoils the twists in a movie!)...and he thinks to himself, that if a memory can be canned ( a memory as special as this), it shouldn't come with an expiry date and if it does it should be 10,000 years....I wonder if we get such moments anymore...or maybe I have outgrown such silly romantic stuff....although even when I am writing this post I was wondering if it's too late to get a little something for my husband...

“Anyone who falls in love is searching for the missing pieces of themselves. So anyone who's in love gets sad when they think of their lover. It's like stepping back inside a room you have fond memories of, one you haven't seen in a long time.” 
― Haruki Murakami

The "F" word

There are certain words (not necessarily expletives) that people are wary of getting associated with....maybe, the implications, often the stigma attached to such words scare them off....what does it mean to be an atheist, or a leftist, and what not (there are so many such words with ambiguous meanings, like bureaucrats or socialists...ambiguous because people interpret them differently, if not always positively!). For one, I feel if one feels obliged to be called an atheist or a leftist (and whatever else), they should be devoted enough to support the cause and not squirm when faced with negative social rebuttal. I can understand if one doesn't feel the urge to put oneself out there too much, expose themselves or be categorized....but somehow, I feel there are some issues that cannot be ignored.

Now, coming to the word I am somewhat partial to, what does it mean to be a “Feminist”? I am reluctant to admit that a thought from my sister was quite correct, that every one of us is a sexist, in the sense we are biased towards the interest of our sex...but strangely, the word “sexist” has been used increasingly to refer mostly to the male sex....is it because they seem to support each other more than we females do? Or maybe our bias-ness towards our own sex have been depleted slowly and steadily through years of repression brought about by a patriarchal society?  

I have often wondered how come the things that infuriate me, seem to have not much of an effect on some of my female friends....from changing name after marriage, to moving to his parent's place, or quitting a job to raise a family or maybe just to stay with him....why should such things irritate me, I mean caring for one's family or extended kin, can't be that bad..it's just that I have across very rare cases where  a man does these things for a woman, yet a woman is somehow expected to do these things and more...I have nothing but the greatest admiration for home makers, and I know its a hell of a job (and I am very clumsy at any house hold jobs), yet why do more women fall into these categories than men? A guy friend of mine had said some time back, in jest, maybe, that men are more efficient than women, and he went on to argue with questions like how many noble laureates can I name who are women and how many women are more successful than men in any field? I wondered then whom should I direct my anger at, men who say and even believe such things or women who don't seem to care any less if people think them to be inefficient,  incompetent....I mean sometimes we are even referred to as the "fairer", "weaker" sex!!! What does it mean?I don't even know if my anger can be justified into any form of feminism, I just feel alienated at times even from my own sex....maybe that is the worst kind of discrimination, when we women don't stand up for each other.... 

“The best things in life are free, but you can give them to the birds and bees....”

Words are free it seems, but thoughts are not (a penny for your thought?). Maybe making a list would help to sort out the necessities from luxuries...I have been burdened with the thought of finances lately (even though I stay at home with my folks, so no need to pay rent, most of what I earn I hoard selfishly or spend thoughtlessly!!)....The reason for concern in recent times, can be attributed to my impending nuptials, which would involve paying rent and taking care of the day to day expenses, and what not!!! Therefore my lovingly hoarded hard earned savings would take some serious dent , which doesn't make me too happy...So, lets get back to the list...

first of all,

Love (but isn't that the reason for depletion of resources as well?)

Good times with friends( that too involves a lot of material needs but can be managed, like those good old times in college or in the hostel)

I wanted to include water and air, but water isn't free anymore, and air conditioning isn't free as well..so what else, gosh! Have I run out of things that are free already? Was thinking of listening to music but that requires a nice player, dear me! The end of the list so soon....

Hmm, in a world like the one we live in, money may not buy happiness but can make you happy nevertheless...is that bad? Why should one care for such high and mighty self righteous crap? If a person is driven by ambition and greed, what's the problem with that? The need for more is such a rush at times, more clothes, more jewelry, more of everything...When is enough, really enough? Never, actually, its like a box of chocolates, the more you have the more you want...I am totally a slave to greed and I lust for all things shiny and bright. As long as I make it, meet most if not all of my needs, why should I care, why should anyone care? One can be blissfully selfish and unaware of the rest of the world....but that doesn't work, does it? Basically that has been the major issue, we care, no matter what...money is good if I have someone to share it with....We are not happy with the cake and the bakery, we need to have it, with some one you see....

“Get a good job with more pay and your O.K.

Money it's a gas

Grab that cash with both hands and make a stash

New car, caviar, four star daydream,

Think I'll buy me a football team

Money get back....

I'm all right Jack keep your hands off my stack.

Money it's a hit

Don't give me that do goody good bullshit

I'm in the hi-fidelity first class traveling set

And I think I need a Lear jet”

-Pink Floyd

"'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." - Lord Alfred Tennyson

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about something which had puzzled me for the most of my life, no make that, baffled me....Although, I had stopped thinking about it for quite a while but recently because of a channel which kept showing rom-coms (romantic comedies), the four lettered word has popped up in my head yet again. So, no brownie points for guessing what might I be talking about....its love, of course and love it is for the next few moments....

Lets start from the beginning then...the first vivid memory of love or something akin to it, was when I stayed up almost all night for a boy, sometime in the eleventh year of my existence. After midnight, when I just couldn't get myself to sleep, I realized, “Oh gosh! This must be love!” This great love of mine lasted for a week or so, after which I could sleep peacefully again...Then after many years of finding, losing and then finding, again, this great realization and all the conflicting emotions of pain, pleasure, agony, ecstasy, and everything profound and silly associated with it, the word itself somehow gradually blended in the background of the daily chaos of my adult life....I became (which I am less inclined to admit) a cynic and this wasn't because of losing one great big love or the so called “love of my life”, no, it was more like realizing the sad fact that nothing really lasts....For a while I was really mad at those people who made such films, wrote such books and poems which reeked of love, it seemed to me they were selling lies.

And then, again, I was hooked. Like an old bad habit, love got me again...this time because of a channel which was silly enough to play rom-coms all day....

The point was, as put very aptly by someone, “Love is a serious business practiced by fools”...its the feeling we love, and sometimes when people hurt us, they make us forget the good part of being in love, and we end up hating the wrong sort of people...so I decided to forgive them, people who made those movies, wrote those stories and poems, since true or not, they felt good....and to enjoy the feeling because it doesn't last.

"love is more thicker than forget

more thinner than recall
more seldom than a wave is wet
more frequent than to fail

it is most mad and moonly
and less it shall unbe
than all the sea which only
is deeper than the sea

love is less always than to win
less never than alive
less bigger than the least begin
less littler than forgive

it is most sane and sunly
and more it cannot die
than all the sky which only
is higher than the sky "

- E.E. Cummings