Saturday, August 29, 2009


She sat there, her long dark hair flowing. Her fingers , gently strumming the guitar. Her eyes looking for something she had found but unsure of whether it was for her to keep. She rubbed her feet against each other to keep them warm. She started humming an incomplete song. Her voice controlled , yet free flowing with a subdued vibrato. People moved around her. Some, listening. Some enthralled. Only one, indifferent.

She didn't seem to mind. She sang for herself. All she could hear was the guitar, her voice and the staccato sound of his type-writer.
She sang for herself and him.

He sat there too. His unruly hair blowing in the wind. The dark shades on his eyes cutting off the world from his.He rocked gently as he typed away, periodic outburst of a continuous staccato. He was writing his song. His unwritten song.

All he could hear was her voice.His anodyne.All he could see was her silhoutte in the faintly lit room.All he could feel,was her.

He typed on. More fiercely than before. The typewriter, now acerbic. She was being offensively sober. It disturbed him.

She carried on like an acquiescent victim. She let her guitar cloud her voice when it choked under his intransigent air of indifference.

He stole a furtive glance at her from behind his shades. Their eyes met. Dark shades are only superficial barriers. Her eyes glistening, she looked away.

He could feel her breaking down.
Them, breaking away.
Leaving him, broken.

They had become a witty travesty of what people call lovers.

But love had always been just a four letter word.

They were each other's unwritten song. The reason for each other's incompleteness.

But their songs were different and best sung solo.

They would have been two heartless souls together.

But apart, they were two souls with one heart.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

The Great Escape

There weren’t any tunnels, but, Tom, Dick and Harry could well be the three of us who took the plunge! With the rather arduous job of getting our fathers to agree (which trust me, is no mean feat), we found ourselves Shantiniketan bound.! Right from the moment my paranoid Daddy mistook B’s driver to be our stalker, we knew it was going to be one Crazy Train!From chattering away incessantly much to the disgust of our co-passengers, devouring PD’s mom-made sandwiches to trying to whisper about our co-passengers and failing miserably, we set the tone for the days ahead.

And right from the time we set foot on this little town,aye my friends,’twas bliss!

Walking through the University, the “Orange County”, with a continuous canopy above us and wondering whether His feet did pass where we now did step, it was an exhilarating feeling.The quaint little sculptures, the Uttarayan complex, the architecture, it was like another world altogether. Walking through the Museum, B and me rued the lost past of Bengal, its height of intellectualism, marveled at the true Romanticism of Tagore’s poetry and the dregs that are left behind. We regretted the burgeoning mediocrity of today’s ‘Bong’, which prides itself in being “Modern” yet ends up being a cheap imitation of the past in a pseudo-garb of respectful indifference, which again is nothing but ignorance and incapacity. .And, yes, we couldn’t escape the blame.

We found ourselves in the core of our rustic roots,with the Bauls,in their elements,leading us to a journey of contemplation through their simple words and tunes.Mysticism at its best!

We had our share of crazy fun too.We had a self-appointed Butler who could put Kareena’s frame to shame. We experienced Formula 1 racing on rickshaws. We played stone-paper-scissor for taking important decisions. We met uncouth ABCD’s who I bet won’t be coming back to India very soon! We clicked embarrassing pictures of each other, which is really not a tough job given our record.We carried out real life optimization problems. We picked up a wonderfully horrendous Bengali song which is like an Anthem these days! We reminisced about our school days. Laughed our hearts out. Almost missed our train! Was helped and thoroughly scolded by absolute strangers. We came back home, to the joy of our fathers!

We came back just the way we wanted to : "We ain't changed,but we know we ain't the same."

Yes, I do wish that I hadn’t indulged in certain impulsive stupidities, but well, I guess it’s good to have a whole spectrum of experience. No regrets.

How else, could we have ridden a rainbow,like we did?