To Leave or Not to Leave

It was just another day. I walked out of my home at the usual time and was checking my watch every other minute, cursing myself for being late by about ten minutes. It was a Saturday and I knew that buses would not be so crowded, so I was taking it easy since morning. Now that I was late, I was beginning to have doubts if I’d reach office on time.

I was walking on the main road, toward the bus-stop which was a few paces away. There’s a make-shift market on the road at this time of the day. I was making my way through the scattered groups of people buying fresh fruits and vegetables. I met a neighbor. He was walking and dragging his cycle along, checking out the wares on display. He looked at me with surprise and said, “How will you go? There’s a bus drivers’ strike on.” I was aghast.

Then it struck me that on the previous day, the bus conductor was telling a passenger about this strike. On hearsay, it was a protest because of a new law against drivers who commit accidents. The drivers haven’t taken fancy to this law and decided to take a day off to think about it. As a result, there was a general bus strike in our area. Some parts were unaffected, because the strike was not publicized in the right manner, neither did it have the support of any political party.

I was stranded without a choice. The cabs that strolled in refused to bring me to the city. They were looking for passengers who would travel more than I needed to. This was the time to make some dough. They didn’t want the opportunity to go begging. I waited at the bus-stop, hoping against hope that something will come along and I can make it to office. My illusion melted with each passing minute. Ultimately it was so late that there was no point in coming to office even if I could have.

I walked back home, dejected and humiliated. I generally stay at home during strikes and hartals because I don’t want to return home this way. It was then that I realized how people feel when they are denied their right to put in a hard day’s work. I won’t say that I am a workaholic or something, but when I go out with a mind-frame to do some work, I’ll not have someone spoil my day. I was extremely irritated and for the first time in my life, it struck me that there was no point in expecting things to change in this State. Most things are beyond repair and if one had the intellectual ability to think beyond the lazy, languorous limits this State binds you to, you have to look for options outside the State.

This is not escapism. This is being practical. There is no point in probing deeper into a tunnel to look for light when you can very well see it’s a blind alley. I had a lot of hope from this State, especially because my ambitions are limited. However, things are such that even my moderate ambitions are being quelled each time I see the collective apathy of the people or the government to set things correct. More on this later…

What’s the USP?

USP, or Unique Selling Proposition, in advertising parlance means a particular quality or feature that makes an entity different, segregated and isolated from the others. When you are talking about USP of a car or carton, you are speaking of the quality that makes it unique from all other cars or cartons. Determining the USP of an object does not knit creases on your forehead. But, what do you say when you are asked what the USP of your writing is? I’ll explain.

Let’s face it: there is no dearth of writers. But few get appreciation, even fewer get published. Why is this so? It is imperative for the writer to cultivate a style that is unique from the others, say the pundits. But is it really possible? There is no debate over the fact that to write well, you need to read extensively. While reading, you cannot help but internalize the writing style of your favorite authors. They have, no doubt, been influenced heavily by their favorite authors. So it is a chain of influences and internalizations that has made the writer of today. How do you gauge the USP then?

Writing, I believe, should come from the heart. That is the USP of a writer. Even if your thoughts are in disarray, even if your syntax leaves room for improvement, even if your ideas have not spilled out onto the paper as you’d wanted it to, the honesty of purpose will shine through and connect with your reader. There is a conviction that grows on you when you believe in what you are writing. That is something that you cannot point out as tangible, but it is there as the air we breathe. You can feel that permeating your thoughts when you read a piece written from the heart. That is the USP of a writer, and that can only come across when you write to express your heart.

She’s Here

With the Mahalaya over, it’s time to welcome the Goddess of Power. This fortnight is the time when the goddess is said to be visiting her parents’ house from her in-laws, residing in heaven. Calcutta is the place to be during the Durga Puja if you want to savor the flavor of this otherwise pan-cultural festival. I’m going to talk about the Puja and the impact it has on the lives of the people in the state in general, and the city in particular. But that will come only when we move deeply into the festivities. Let’s soak in the aura of autumn first.

Yesterday when I was going home, I could feel it in the air that She’s here. The decorative lights are slowly being put up. In some places they are hanging down from the walls of the neighboring buildings, while in some places bamboo stands are being erected to frame the ornamental lights. There are hoarding and banners all over the city, announcing the name of the Puja club or community, along with a tag of the main sponsor. That is something that has crept in stealthily, but steadily. Funds collected from the neighborhood are not enough anymore, what with steep inflation and stiff competition.

There is a distinct feel in the air that is very familiar to the nose of every self-respecting Calcuttan. This sense of happiness is what permeates into your skin and grows on you until you feel positively charged. This sense of happiness is not commercial, though the Pujas are determinedly headed that way. This sense of happiness makes the prince and the pauper happy alike. Work at all places is getting slack with each passing day, as we inch closer to the four main days. There is a prevalent sense of procrastination. Schools are slowly closing shutters for a period and work at office is getting postponed in chunks. All the year we wait for these few days, the anticipation reaches fever-pitch and then after one fine day, all of it is undone. The routine returns.

Stray Thoughts on Love, Infidelity, etc.

I don't know who spread the rumor that you can love only once. Also, I don’t believe in the concept of 'first love'. Love, if you ask me, is no competition where you get ranks. Love can touch your heart anytime, anywhere. It could also be more than once in a lifetime. Love is not like the arrow that goes straight and hits a target. It is like the light emitting from a torch; it glows and spreads in all directions, giving light and warmth to all.

A lot has been said, thought and written about physical infidelity. No one seems to care about the emotional aspect of cheating on your partner. What if you are in your partner’s arms but thinking of a person who’s not there with you, but is vibrant on your mindscape? Is that not cheating on your partner? Maybe I’m being too strict for my own good! But that is a side that I would like to explore. I don’t really believe in the brouhaha over sexual disloyalty. I’m more concerned with the disloyalty of the mind. That, I think, is more interesting and arresting.

Flirting with random people is a very boring affair. The tenacity of keeping up pretence for long is strenuous and self-defeating. You flirt because you want a diversion from the daily drivel. In pursuit of that you exhaust yourself coming up with witty remarks and most tiring of all, keeping that fake smile firmly in place. At the end of it all, you are full of doubt, about your own intentions as well as that of the person you were trying to impress.

There is nothing like having a steady partner by the side. But, there is a catch. Your partner, as a person, is losing importance each day. There are other less important issues that are making themselves manifest. That’s a topic that is beyond the scope of this post. To round it off, let me make a declaration. This post is disjointed in thought, as you can well understand. That is deliberate. I want you to fill up the gaps by your own reading of the post.

The Recession

These are tough times. I suddenly woke up to a scary reality that was always lurking one step behind me, silent and chilling. Faith and trust in people you know have diminished in alarming proportions. The ‘sea of faith’ that Matthew Arnold talked about in his poem ‘Dover Beach’ has receded too deep for us to drench our heated souls in the comfort of its cool water. I can perceive people losing the basic trust that binds a person to another. They do not trust anymore. They do not care anymore.

The only entity shining through the haze of mistrust and skepticism is the ubiquitous ‘Me’. Everyone seems to be so full of themselves and in such awe of their own potential that they refuse to see the good in others. Honest appreciation is too often mistaken for brazen flattery. The isolation of the human spirit from the collective consciousness of the universe is stark and depressing. The modern modes of consolation, that keep the hapless soul occupied, are deepening the ridge between people.

In such a bleak scenario, it is difficult to keep faith either in the power without or the one within. What must we do to liberate the sea of faith from the perennial pull of the moon called ‘doubt’? What must we do to trust our fellow beings- our families, our co-workers, our co-travelers, our neighbors, our stranger friends? The questions far outweigh the answers and numb the senses to a disturbing mum.

This is a song from the Hindi movie 'Omkara'. The movie is adapted from Shakespeare's 'Othello'. Though I can talk for days about the movie, all I'll do now is post a translation of a song from it. This song is brilliant in itself, so if you listen to it, nothing like it. But if you do not understand the language, I'm putting it up for you. The lyricist is Gulzar.

No more, the words will speak for themselves...

Lakad ( Wood)

Wood burns into coal, coal turns to ash,
But when the soul is scorched, nothing happens -
No smoke, no ash
Do not scorch the soul...

Ice melts to water, and flies away as clouds.
The agony on the soul is so stubborn,
It does not melt, nor moves away.
The support of the banks
Flows away into the river -
Do not anchor here.
Do not involve the soul,
Do not scorch the soul...

False promises, loose talk -
With the advent of monsoon,
Washes away, floats away with the drizzle...
Live as much as you desire,
The rains cannot quench it.
Do not scorch the life in me,
Do not scorch the soul...

The Comeback

I am blogging after a gap of quite a few days. The reasons were plenty. There are some changes happening in my professional life. My personal life is still in a qualified mess. But there’s something happening on a front; I won’t reveal the details now, because it’s too early to make a definite comment on that.

By the way, I have broadened my friend-base at Orkut and that has in turn brought me into contact with a couple of friends back from school. Though it was nice to hear from them after a long time, I have a peculiar problem on my hand when interacting with them.

The problem is that I don’t know what to say to extend the conversation. After knowing what each other are doing, there’s nothing more to say. Then it comes to finding out what the others of our batch are doing, though I’m least interested to know about most of them! So many things have happened over the years in their lives as well as mine. It’s impossible to give an update without irritating the person with redundant, irrelevant details. There are also people who never even said ‘Hi’ to me back in school!

So I avoid making contact with old friends. It’s not ego or something, it’s just that I can’t relate to what they are today with what they are in my memories. That is when the entire effort seems tiring. I am sure many of you would agree with me, won’t you?