Tuesday, May 12, 2009

Potpourri III

Another installment of my random farragoes that has become a habit of mine of late .A necessity : a troubled cure for my troubled mind .

PRE-STORM BLUES : I have never been fond of the lull before the storm. In fact, I wonder why would they call it a lull? If you look at it from the operational perspective, storms and human activity are counter-cyclical. People are at the height of their activity during the lull, trying desperately to seek “shelter from the storm”,in whatever way they can.Once the storm comes,there isn’t much one can do but to hope that the preparations that one did during the lull were enough to hold on.There’s a storm on the horizon,1st July to be precise, and during this lull I am expected to prepare for the impending storm.I find this period frustrating,boring and nerve-wrecking.For one,I never manage to do what I plan to do.I never have.Then, one cannot seem to have fun whole-heartedly without one of those Satan-vs-Angel face-off that Captain Haddock used to have,at the back of one's mind!There’s too much constancy in this period and that depresses me. I like things linear only when it comes to solving equations during examinations.Maximum variability is welcomed otherwise.

BLIND FAITH : There has been one song that I’ve been listening to,repeatedly for the last few days, “Can’t find my way home” by Blind Faith.I had already been bowled over by the Clapton-Knopfler version but the acoustic version of the original has a sense of pathos and helplessness that cuts through.The words are beautiful in their minimalism. It almost feels like a conversation I would be having with myself.The song is almost therapeutic at some level,personally.(I believe that whoever does not know the therapeutic effect of music is not an up-to-date free thinker.)Anyway, the album itself is pretty good.They are one of the best super-groups I’ve ever come across.PB remarked in one of our time-defying-days-dissolving conversations that Baker-Winwood-Clapton is a magic formula.He was right.Ah well,I never thought blind faith is a good thing.However,in this case it was!.But I always did feel blind faith doesn’t last for ever.In this case,sadly it didn’t last long as with most “super-groups”.But thankfully,divided they didn’t fall.

VACUOUS DEBATES: Elections are around and everybody has an opinion. Well, nothing can be done. It’s a free country for old men! Heh!There are debates, discussions and press conferences and so on and so forth. I don’t have anything against them.There are few things more fascinating than listening to a refined verbal duel.But all I hear are vacuous dialogues. I used to believe that politicians and oratory skills had a good correlation. However, that has now been reduced to “bitter clamour” of “eager tongues”. Very few of them make sense.Other’s repeat "exclusive" figures and forget facts. Some lie with overweening hauteur.Some are bellicose in their speeches which again,are rather hollow.Some having hit the rock-bottom of their family’s gene pool make outrageous comments to ratify the fact that they are indeed the product of depleted wisdom over generations.Seriously,whatever happened to the art of rhetorics and dialectics?We can only blame the politicians for making politics look so drab. Maybe few years later, any contradiction or point of contention would be registered by throwing a shoe and instead of a Question Hour in the Parliament we would have a Shoe-Session(The word makes a good tongue-twister I find.Try out! :D)!That would save us all these torturous sermons of platitudes!

MOTHER’S DAY : No,I don’t celebrate it.And I would not give a clichéd justification saying that “Everyday is Mother’s Day for me”!I irritate Ma for most part of the year. That’s one of my hobbies.I put in some nice gestures once in a while but only when I want to.So this Mother’s Day,while studying New-classical Macroeconomics I had one of those bursts of spontaneity.(Don't ask me to justify the circumstances.Assume that I was a victim.Period.) So I wrote her a poem and that too in Bengali.It was pretty inane I think.My Bengali has become rather rusty these days.My hand-writing looks like one of those 5 year olds mastering the alphabets.And the less said about my spellings,the better!But anyhow,I thought it’d be special, for Ma alone knows the effort I’d have to put in for that.Heh!Anyway,the job was done.I wrote it out on a page torn from one of my exercise books.It even had a margin drawn!Yes,I am lazy!I delivered it to Ma’s room while she wasn’t looking and then came back to Lucas and Muth.Few minutes later Ma,came in,dewy-eyed.We looked at each other.Not a word was spoken.But our conversation was done.Ma later told me that it was probably one of the sweetest things anyone had done for her and in the same breath added that she would make sure I practice Bengali handwriting(What!) and revise my spellings(How!?!) for to quote her, they were “Shanghatik!” I don’t mind the trade-off but in terms of problems,Dad has been dropping hints that he’d like one for himself too and I fear if he doesn’t get one,he is going to bring charges of partiality against me and worse still,be hurt!Sigh! And they still think human beings have rational expectations!!

It had been raining all the while I had been typing this out!Raining,with a vehement force interspersed by lightnings!Lightnings I tried capturing on my cell phone camera!But that darned 299792458 m/s got the better of me!Anyway,I will take a mind-picture like an oh-so-merry-and-high-on-sugar Alec Baldwin did in one of those hilarious episodes in FRIENDS. *click* :D

It just stopped raining now.Just as I wind up my “thought-full” outburst here!Almost a Pathetic Fallacy situation , what say? :)

Saturday, May 9, 2009

On A Day Like Today

On a day like today,
When the sun rose, like everyday
The wind blew the leaves away,
And mortals scurried to make hay,
A life began, somewhere, this day.

A life that set many free as a lark,
Teeming with hope like a firefly in the dark.
And through his eyes the world seemed a land
Of unforeseen beauty,blessed by His hand.
And his songs did heal many a battered soul,
Like sunshine amidst the bitter cold.
His words did herald a new wave,
That swept away all who did emulate
To an elevated state of mind and thought,
To a deeper sense of self and its worth .

But just like a river runs its course,
And just like the waves crash onto the shore.
The harp of his life would play no more.
But his life defied death and Oblivion,
Alive in hearts,and still surging on.
And since his life blossomed,
On a day like today,
This day in May could never be,
Just another day!

Sunday, May 3, 2009

The Man with the Alpine Hat

Yes, I love him. I never thought I would. I never really thought I could fall in love with one of those rich, idle , air-heads. I was right. He isn’t one of them. He just appears to be so for those who haven’t been able to read into the real him. Yes, he is rich but you can’t blame him if one of his loaded relatives went sailing to heaven and left him a fortune! Incase you are, that’s just you being jealous! Stop cribbing and feed greasy pot roast to one of your despicable affluent acquaintances with high cholesterol,instead.If you don't have one,well,blame it on your benevolence for they sure EXIST!Anyway,when was being rich a crime? I guess the Red Army would disagree but I’d like to leave out such morbid 'matadors' out of my sunny story of love right now. Thank you.
The object of my affection is rich but seems to be quite oblivious of it. His garish tastes would bear testimony to that.The high society would consider him a disgrace.You might too.But open your eyes,and you shall behold an iconoclast. He appears to be obtuse but I know he is not. I just feel he is indifferent or too engrossed with the trifles of life to agonize over great matters. Well, we all do that anyway. One less wouldn’t hurt right? It is an ingenuous method to escape from all the bally-trouble. An escapist? A bird skimming the surface of water you say? Ah well, I love him still! He is an adorable man-child who makes what in others would have appeared to be galling glaring stupidity, appear as delectable innocence.He is a man waiting to be saved.He needs that from time to time with all the scrapes he gets into. He manages to wriggle out of them though, thanks to a wise man that walked into his life.
For him, I know missing a court hearing would be less of a disaster than his Aunt’s cook giving notice! I know all he can quote (that too incompletely and completely inappropriately) are inane country jingles and is hopelessly lost in the world of The Bard . I know he is rather spoilt and that he often needs someone to provide him with the perfect word to complete a sentence,or rather to make sense. I know he runs behind popsies and then runs away from them for his life. But strangely, one doesn’t love him in spite of that, but rather because of that.For all the wrongs make a right only in him.
He has no pretences. He is no snob. He is hilarious and again , quite unaware of it. He seems indifferent but he nurtures a sensitive heart.He is just a harmless blundering fool .But most significantly he abides by the code for he "never lets a pal down" , come what may and that’s what makes my heart soluble. Life with him around I imagine, would be springtime all year around and doodah-ing all the way!
And for him I would wear a ghastly pink-feathered alpine hat to the church!(I would have said the parliament but I guess weirder things happen there anyway).I just need to procure one. I sure hope to, for my Cherie Amour, Bertram Wilberforce Wooster. :)