Gender Bias

It is about time the intellectuals of our country takes a reality check and give a thought or two on gender equality/inequality! Their absence of comment on this glaringly visible disparity is quite conspicuous.

It is also the responsibility of media to highlight this thought and build a national consensus through the most viable mediums present. Well, I am not asking media to take all the trouble but at least for once they can shoulder the burden, which they so profusely take proud of.

A few journo have indeed set the ball rolling but would be nice, if for a change it doesn't gather moss, thanks to our goldfish memory syndrome.

It is thus the collective onus of sustaining the welcome change with an adept politician at the helm of affair, for our own good!

This country should not be considered as a fiefdom of heterosexual men avenging their lust while women and homo/trans-sexual weep in the corner.

I live in a fairy wonderland, I am happy and satisfied!

(Photo courtesy : bharat-rakshak forum)

Wish

send me some hug, 
a bit of kiss
and a thousand roses!!

i will adore them,
the glory days
and the memories alike!!

a lot like love,
much to desire
but, i don't want to cry!!

She

a girl, beautiful to say the least.
attracting thousand flies!

the girl, relying on her beauty alone,
embraces a journey of search.

she asks for care, she asks for love,
sharing nothing but a bunch of mirage.

many fall prey, some pretty deep.
they all make up, the herd of sheep.

which, in her darkest desire,
she so covet and feels the need.

she doesn't care for love anymore,
succumbing to the lure,
of mortal offerings by the herd.

she doesn't realize lust for sure,
while relishing the lackluster life.

yet, in her profound wisdom.
concludes to a halt!
benign eyes, trying to find reasons and logic!

trapped in her own fate, 
of jealously guarded secrets and rivalry,
sinking courage on to the face,
of sheepish adversary!

she has been a temptress, for too long.
it's her fiefdom, nurtured to the core.

the bricks are loose, 
still held quite strong.
a brief wait till denouement,
the curtains must fall! 

kohl smeared, drooping eyelids.
the cry for more and 
a sweaty palm for company.

the truth hides behind the shadows,
embracing the dire needs and illicit freedom.

Diwali Saga 2

The devil's back in business!
sniffing around, holding hostage.

Innocence lost, yet again!
is it the fragile dignity or mindless shame?

know not, yet carefree soul!
failed again, in terms with the name.

Trust breached, 
Promises broken,
Shameless laugh.
Oh no! not again!

there may be thousand next or a million more.
no prize for joining the lonely brigade of 
jilted lovers and alienated ghosts.

the careless whisper of bridges burned,
silent shores, muffled voice.
screaming inside the head,
no respite, till the smoke take it's own effect.

the crackers bellowing joy,
neon screaming happiness.
diyas' spreading light to darkness!

yet, thoughts clouded, 
eyes, dark and misty!
contemplating the day passed by,
ruminating the joy once shared.

spare me the rod, your highness.
suits the worst of us!

Diwali Saga

Woke up in the afternoon, spilled a mug of coffee on to the car-seat, had a big fight with mom regarding my life, filled up cooking gas to the stove, got myself the long overdue month's grocery from D-Mart, smoked MJ with juniors, cleaned the house, kitchen, made tea with milk, wished some fifty odd people over text and finally cooked mushroom with rice.

Diwali over!

Waiting for the next year.

Oh, by the way, wish you all a very happy and prosperous Diwali, thank you!

Janina

Chenashona badhon chariye jai, 

                          bot, jhuri namai matir govire!

akre dhorar probol iche, 

                          sange pak-pakalir tan!

achre pori akre dhore, 

                          lagle laguk kada!

bhijle bhijuk dalpala sob, 
                          oder aj snan korar bela!


notun alote gaye laguk, 
                                notun hawa
khusir domok,
                    achre poruk buke
kanna katir bela sesh, 
                             ai nobin-boron kori,
dhuye muche saf hok,
                             ja kichu anaboshyok

Devii Durga Stuti

Durga Stuti

"Yaa Devii Sarva Bhuuteshhu
Shakti Rupena Sansthita
Namas Tasyai Namas Tasyai
Namas Tasyai Namo Namah"

"O Mother!
Thee, who is present everywhere,
thee who is the embodiment of power and Energy!
I Bow to Thee! I Bow to Thee! I Bow to Thee!" -- http://www.dollsofindia.com/library/durga/

Lust

At times when stray thoughts and raging scent of yours, clouds the mind with the memory of only weekend spent together in a trance, it just doesn’t seem like last week. Feels like a year has probably passed since then.

The lustful soul relies on those ragged and jagged memory while the eager heart waits with selfish vigor for the unnerving allure of seductive tigress in the wilderness. 

Why?

what u doing? sitting alone in the dark

waiting for the moments to embark!

rushing down the hall, a flood of emotions,

bloody nose and a pair of shaky hands.

why don't they stop calling your name?

can't they anticipate a gentle nod of shame!

and while you tear away in a gust,

it's about time they feel the boiling rust!

when you keep crawling down the same old road.

with fear, anxiety and a ruthless vagrant hoard.

what do you expect to find, except for

fornication of guilt and lure for some more!

The face and the mask

The face and the mask signify a constant tussle between self and the self-proclaimed. A growing rift between Mukh and Mukhosh. The appearance may in some cases probably be intermittent but the effects undoubtedly far reaching for all. Even when it is buried deep inside the darkest of conscience after years of refinement, the web of mystery always sticks to the skin. Either learn to live with it or be prepared to be chased by it for eternity.

 It is a structured layer of defense to the darkest corner of the mind. Each segment represents a face to the outside world, varying by the degree of penetration the spectator holds. Each and every individual among us probably has it. The very stratum of this hypocritical society is glued with it; witness and performer alike.

These typical arrangements sometimes do posses a challenge when the implanted face suddenly finds prominence and refuses to buzz from the lime light. So begins the tug of war. The eternal good now stands to question its own makings. The creation slowly but surely overpowering the creator imparts its own wisdom and strength along with the darkest of desires. 

The metamorphosis is now complete. 

Ironically the very creator who earlier succumbed to the slow yet determined encroachment of the “face” now finds solace in those very corners which incubated the victorious in the first place. The painstakingly slow healing process of battered self takes its own due course of time until at some point it becomes powerful enough to challenge the adversary. 

Without realizing much; this constant whimsical alterations between the face and the mask becomes a controllable habit after years of conscious and unconscious effort of the duo. They become interchangeable with a panache eventually. The chemistry is as deadly as it can get. The ensuing fire due to the friction attached raises the possibility of burning both along with bunch of other folks having no knowledge whatsoever of the transformation. A cynic would put collateral damage estimate to a modest figure but the devastation is already done with irreversible effects.

There are times when a little willing self retrospection is indeed required to discover the true self, the belongings and the cognizable surroundings. It is always a sad but enduring process of rediscovery.

"And if I show you my dark side
Will you still hold me tonight?"

Faltering steps but a shoulder to lean and take rest. Eyes closed and it's wet everywhere, the trees, buildings.

Tui

kommo kothin, dhommo kothin.
sohoj sudhu ghonta!

dharapat nipat jak,
ai, chati tor thont ta!

paye hatis, naki urte chas?
moyur hobi, naki khamta nach?

konta dhori, konta chari,
bristi tokhn ilseguri......

Feeling

so you have got the feeling now baby,
                                  a feeling to miss me true.
the nights have grown longer lusting,
                                  just a memory to pass it through.

gentle sweep of air notwithstanding,
                                  they brush my lips with blue.
the remembrance is terrible baby,
                                  i certainly yearn for you.

holding myself prisoner of this faith,
                                  i smoke things for cure.
sanctum sanctimonious of your soul baby,
                                  how can it be so pure?

Guilt

I was on a guilt trip, until i realized i am in love.
the story is quite the same, from that point so far.

your boyfriend was angry, last I heard he was mad. 
Oh baby, don't you worry, he will not make you sad.

the clothes we bear and the thoughts we care.
let's go out, find a place, tomorrow we can share!

care for a laugh? or maybe a long drive to nowhere,
should we find  enough reasons or do we make love?

The Train

The Train

           devoid of it's baggage's,              

neon radiating emptiness!

the shadow of light crawls past

to a self imposed seclusion.

mesmerizing bystanders,

   yet everyday,

   fails to raise,

hope of the occupants!

Boobs

Boobs, What are those?
creation of some great architect.

they vary in size, shape and dimension
also in weight, width and assimilation...

one touch takes you million stars away
heavenly bliss, on the earth nevertheless,

squeeze them to the delight,
hold them to their perfect shapes,

Hands in joy and trickling liquid SomePlaceElse.

moaning body, screaming someone's name,
dude! you are the luckiest, keep up the fame!

The Long Strode

I was walking beside you, holding your hands,
while you chased your dreams, hopes and despair.

I was not the destiny, but we made journeys together.

(you flew, you flew, you flew sky high!)

until your wings were clipped, and guitar alone was left in the dark!

Fight Back

Out there somewhere a serenity awaits.
A blissful delight waiting to be felt.

towards the glory road of shattering glass.
feet soaked in blood, bloodhounds lust.

to be or not to be, the questions arose.
to the divinity of the treacherous force.

Twice he blinkered, but thrice he failed.
he rose up again, to the surprise of the sect.

they kept on harping, only to realize the vain.
The man has found reasons, alien to the entire nation.

reasons to fight back, to call another day.
if somethings worth dying for, then be that as it may.

he has everything to loose, the adversary none.
hell broke free, but there are reasons to smile!

Reflected Glory!

Reflected Glory!

I sat by the river with moist eyes,
                 basking in reflected glory!

Disposed of all that I hold true,
                 the uncertain future is a fury.

Fear unto death,
                  I break free of the chains!! 

Kolkatar korcha ( Kolkata Chronicles)

Dhoro tokta maro perek,

Murgi bech-che Bo'derek.

Jhalmuri ta jomlo na thik,

WTF, you are so sick!

Nouka bihare berolen Mamata,

Aha, jeno sakhyat ma Jogodomba!

Dhapar mathe mulor chas,

Bangla felche navishyas!

Dhor dhor dhor, dhorpakor.

Bolo hori, horiiiiii booollllll!!!!!!!

To call or not to call

There lies the classic dilemma, whether to call or not. The mobile is lying silently nearby. The call records doesn't capture her name in the top 20 list anymore. Her texts are lying far down the list of messages. Emails though, is the mode of contact albeit unreliable due to unreasonable delay and denial. 

Time now seems to be flying away. It feels like the month just started and here we are staring at the fag end of it. It's really becoming a hardship to remember each and every day. Could the mundane reality of everyday life has finally made it's presence felt? 


If the evening itself wasn't taunting enough, the wind with the rain for cover, started blowing furiously. The droplets piercing the skin like arrows. Staring through the skies amidst the concrete jungle. A few tastes salty. The hand seeks for a shadow among the thousands. 


The reality creeps back in. Am I not supposed to get in, rather than drenching myself in the torrential rain? Hopelessly though a silent stare from the mobile greeted the dry me again, after a quick shower complemented by some dry clothing. 


The food is getting cold it seems. The air is filled with soft chime. A few smokes wouldn't harm! The hallucinating brain grossly misjudged the low battery sign. It went dead after a final futile warning! I was left with a superficial joy. The decision has been taken. World is a happy place again. The orgasmic rain still pouring incessantly outside whilst I celebrate the divine justice of denial.

Bristi Cheyeche Mon - Pota (the heart seeks rain)

 
The melodious number by Pota. The soft music along with the mesmerizing lyrics and off course the wonderful voice of Pota conjuring something mystical. 

The protagonist seeks for rain, probably to yearn for the lost times with his lover. A rain soaked morning and the painful nostalgia for company. A sad yet subtly beautiful song.The imagery it paints, reflects the ever lasting struggle of the lovers separated by destiny. They cry for rain,  they lust for each other and while the world is drenched in shower, their love remains unquenchable.

Innocence

Innocence..

The innocent eyes are all but waiting for the moment.

The contrasting expressions speak! 

Eccentricity Unplugged!

A simple Google search doesn't yield anything satisfactory other than suggestions for a herbal medicine. Well, that makes sense. The character is a masterpiece in itself and probably like all other genius of their time, he too will be remembered after building a legacy of his own. A song writer, musician, actor and a person allegedly walking on the tightrope of sanity, spawning some of the greatest work of art via his music.

The transformation from "Bhoomika" to "Janla Kholo"  has indeed questioned many a aspects of the way we see, listen and perceive music. Are these really a transformation of what we ourselves heading towards or do they represent the constant tussle between the conscious and subconscious?  Is this what we really want or what we get? Lots and lots of question. This particular capability of a person probably defies the boundaries in all sense. An aura of mystery is always intriguing and he has a flair for it.

An ensemble of musical entities this person possess. The melodious baul complemented by the eccentric "Janla Kholo". If "Fish Fish" was his ultimate tryst with insanity, the "Langta Bura" crossed all boundaries of social, spiritual and off course musical strata. They each constitute the bricks of a solid foundation. Enabling him to flirt with sanity or rather the insanity within himself. "Pagol, ke na pagol!" as he so convincingly portrays in his music.

Does it remind you of someone else? A person with the very similar traits albeit being a legend himself. A musician to the heart, not alone a songwriter or the guitarist, who plays with the very essence of it, believing only in his instincts. Someone who after having a bitter departure from Pink Floyd came up with the fascinating album  "The Madcap Laughs". and songs like "Dominoes" from the album "Barret". A pioneer in psychedelic folk genre, who went into self imposed seclusion lasting 30 years while composing some of the great numbers of that time. His legacy notwithstanding we have amongst us someone who in his humble capacity conjuring a completely different genre. A genre which amongst many others is his own. He is none other than Shilajit Majumdar and within my limited capacity, I must say he is the Syd Barret of our times.

"Akta Raat" comes first to mind. A singles, to be technically correct, although spanning a good 40 minutes. Not sure how many of those do we get to see these days. None by far. An album composing an evening of "adda, gaan" . 40 minutes of Shilajit unplugged. Different locations, ambiance and mood is captured throughout the journey. You wouldn't regret after hearing it though. The album encompasses many a good numbers. "Swadhinota" being one of the really good melodious one and that too with a provocative yet subtly beautiful lyric. In one of the informal "adda" Shilajit quips "janis kukur e ekmatro prani jeta gaite pare" roughly translates to "you know what, dog is the only animal which can actually sing." and then goes on to explaining it with a crisp example. I am not sure whether he is planning to introduce a full fledged number with a dog next but at least he can draw inspiration from Roger Waters, having strong influence  from Barret then, after the latter's departure in 69 and the former in 71 introducing "Seamus".

“Ami urte cheyechilam” holds a very special place in my heart for its lyrics and the beautiful transformation of music you would not imagine in your wildest dreams. Album is the infamous “Fish Fish”. “Jhinti” depicts the pain and lust of a lover. “Toder ghum peyeche bari ja ” is the one to dance with. “Tor ki phone kharap, amar mon kharap” might become the catch phrase of the generation next. “Bish diye bhat mekhe khai”, depicts the irony of having poison with a staple diet. The song aptly captures the emotional turmoil faced by the protagonist of the movie Bish of Gandu famed Q. 

“Nesha” requires a special mention too. The music first appeared in Bish. The music video again due to the rebellious stance enacted a night of illicit adventure with explicit visual contents. A feat however unimaginable that time was executed with a panache by the duo Shilajit and Q. 

The list is endless and prone to innumerable interpretation due to the very eccentric yet subtly confusing factor called Shilajit. The portrayal of Das babu in Gandu only affirms the strong artistic base of his. “Le Pocha”, a documentary based on Bangla Band courtesy Q, founds him explaining the rebellious nature with his dark humor and sarcasm at its best. Y2K(Sex Krome Asiteche) a subversive cult movie from Satyajit Ray Film and Television Institute directed by Chandril features him as a roadside-Romeo, drinking hooch and singing "Juicy Jolie", which itself has strong lyrics to say the least. Thereafter strongly denouncing the intellectuals by his trademark strong language and probably signifying the class struggle with a hint towards leftist liberalism.

The opportunities we missed in the 60's and 70’s has come back to haunt us through this musical architect of our generation. The majority of people may not relish or cherish his music now apart from the popular numbers. Yet his masterstrokes are hard to ignore by all. The generation which has grown up on his music needs no introduction or any other names to recognize the genius in this man but a time will come when a musical revolution will sweep us again after Gautam Chattopadhay. We will be reminded again "you and I and dominoes, time goes by...".