How tolerant am I...

...that I have a friend who thinks :

1. House is a mediocre series.

2. Masakkali is a horrible song with no tune whatsoever.

3. Rab Ne Bana Di Jodi is a very good movie with breathtaking acting by Shahrukh Khan.

4. Gunda is an infinitely better watch than certain Ray movies - say, for example, Agantuk.


...and I have still not physically harmed him in any way?

Season Finale.

My heart just BROKE for House.
Just. Plain. Broke.

Wilson should legitimately get sympathy. But I am sure he has more of that than he can handle.

House, on the other hand, had nothing except Cuddy's handholding while he slept.

Mediocrity sucks even more when you have no money.

I effing loved all the Introduction to Renaissance painting classes that I attended last semester. And I am talking serious love here. The kind of love which made sure I didn't miss a class even though I wasn't officially a part of the course. The kind of love which made me trawl the internet incessantly - looking up random paintings from the age, and trying to figure out how Sukanta da would have interpreted them.

Plus, that was the first time I found out that I could actually frame and ask sensible, coherent questions to this man I am rather scared of, really.

Gah. I sound positively nostalgic here.

Beparta holo, bishoytar serious premey porechhilam. Ar ekhon sei prem khabo na mathay debo bujhte parchhi na. Bas.

I am a rather placid person in general. Opinions I don't care about, do not affect me at all. They might make me think, and a random, unnecessary, insensitive comment might even take me by surprise - but they fail to make me furious. Or really hurt me. Annoyance might happen. But never fury. Not very often, at least. I think my friends will agree.

Which is why I am rather shocked when I think about how bitter the battles with ma-baba have become nowadays. Do not get me wrong, they are not bad people. And I am NOT the oppressed one here. And I have had fights with them for as long as I can remember. It's just that the amount of impatience and disdain, and blind fury I feel during some of the fights now, would never have happened earlier. Also, the hurt. They are among the very few who have the power to really, really hurt me. The legendary thick skin does a no-show where my family is concerned, I guess.

My mother tells me that the kind of words I exchange with her, were never exchanged between her and my grandmother. If I believe that, am I also to believe that generation gap, in the last few years, has suddenly taken a frightening leap? Have my parents been left behind, or is it the other way around?


I thought teenage years were supposed to be the most turbulent. But when I think back, those fights seem puny compared to the intense, bitter, vitriolic battles I have regularly now. Is it because I am growing up? Is it because THEY are growing old? Is it MY patience which wears thin, or THEIRS'? Why is it, that the older I grow, the more difficult I find it to get my point across? What is it, I wonder, which makes me frequently want to slam doors and smash random things in fury?

This, this uncontrollable, blind, frustrating rage is an alien emotion and I really don't quite know how to deal with it. Violent fits have never really been my forte, and I end up looking rather stupid and hating myself for it afterwards. But for those few moments, it is as if I can break down doors and tear down walls.

The Americans might, after all, have some logic behind insisting that their children get out of the house after they are 18. Constant demands for justification are rather claustrophobic after a point of time.

The 20s are not a good age I gather.

Finally!

High five!

Dear Mr. Subramaniam Iyer..

..or Jahangir Chaudhury. Whatever.




Will you please marry me?

Infatuation ta toh ultimately useless, na?

If you care.

Do check this out.

And contribute. If you can.

Because that's the only thing we can do right now.

God bless.

Ae dil, hai mushkil,
Jeena yahaan,
Zara hat ke,
Zara bach ke,
Yeh hai Bombay meri jaan.

Nothing other than very obvious rudeness ever makes me learn my lesson.

A friend said I was gullible. I think the right word would be stupid.

So I was in this cab. With Maa and Bhai. And I was, as usual, bickering away with my very pesky sibling for the window seat. (Do not ask me how two people can fight over two window-seats. We just were. So there.)

The fight is not the point here. The point is, suddenly, during the conversation I realized that Maa had been relinquishing her window seats to either one of us for the last 20 years.

Holy Shit! That's a LOT of time spent sitting in the middle.

I also realized that I have never seen her eat the chicken leg (it invariably goes to either me or bhai) OR that last piece of chocolate.

Poor Ma.

Sacrificing away since 1988.

This mothering thing is harder than I thought.

Hee.

So, these are some of the search-phrases which made Google direct people to my blog. Hilarious would be an understatement.

Bhenge mor ghorer chaabi niye jaabi - Understandable. One of my favourite songs. Seems I am not alone.

Geriartrophile - Err, I didn't really mean it THAT way.

Chotkabe - Ki? Kano? Were you trying to find squishy porn? Or just the recipe for aloo-bhaatey?

Harry potter magic words laviosa - Ooookay. Though I do not understand, with mugglenet and wikipedia, why MY blog would come up in the search. But then, I did mention these words some time back. And Google is nothing if not thorough.

Baje sargam har taraf se - Aww. Nostalgia. I am assuming its not just me who loves this.

Batasa sweets - What about them? They are round, white, sweet. Found in abundance during any kind of pujo. Like, DUH!

Aguner poroshmoni words - Go buy yourself a Geetobitan.

Subhayu is useless - Hahahahahahahaha. This is one of my favourites. At least, someone ELSE thinks this is true too.

Amlan dasgupta birthday - Well. I won't tell you. Find it out yourself, if you like the man. Hmph.

Arunava learning - What? Learning to not-pat, not-freak-out-people, not-go-gaga-over-psychoanalysis? Someone is curious!

Patha bhaban school - Best school in the whole wide world. I hope your curiosity is satisfied?

Put your mp3 player on shuffle - You SERIOUSLY don't know how to do that?

Nobab kinle aram free - Kinchhe! Bolchhe! Dichchhe ki?

2008 madhyamik results of everybody - Yes. Well. Some passed. Some failed. Next question please.

Gangarati - Happens in Benares.

Mandira bedi doodh - Okay. Either I am a pervert, or this is really gross.

Geral durrell - The 'd' packed its bags and went to Hawaii, did it?

Kobi amar - Like, mine! All mine! My precious, types?

Bimboboti - Look at me! My name is misspelt! BUT, someone searches! I am famous! Oh the adulation!

Oly - Not so great anymore.

Pratyush da - What about him? Vague aquaintance. Son of a favourite teacher.

Rabindra rachanabali printed books - You get them at College street. At discount. Ask doyeeta.

Patisapta - Good to eat. I can make them. GAH.

Gulp it - What? Mod? Doodh? Jol?

Chirotar jol - Kano? Petroga?

Kubla kapoor - Either you forgot the Khan after. Or you forgot the Kunal before. Take your pick.

Prannoy roy - I worship. Any questions?

yarki English - I Seriously don't know man!

Bangal panu - Hahahahahaha. Khuje dyakho. Kotthao nei. Sorry.

Benares diwali descriptions - They are usually loud and bright. With loads of alcohol and cards.

Girls hostel dupurbela - Mone pore Ruby Roy?

Fivefindouters - And buster the dog! :D

Virgin emotions - What? Got dumped?

Shubhayu sen - Don't know any. Thank you.

Panu golpo - GAH. NEI. NEI. NEI.

Bolchhish? - Bolchhi. Sotti.

Wasim akram dress sense - Fantastic.

Mukhagni means - The exact english word eludes me.

Suddha bagchi - My friends are famous too!

Joker commitment - Is to put a smile on your face?

Panwallah - Sells paan?

Me and mandy - Know each other. WHAT is it exactly you want to find out?

Pip al pacino - The second and third words make up a delicious man. The first? Erm, Dickens?

Number of bookworms till date - Go on. I am curious to know.

Poulomi sardesai - Rajdeep has a sister? Or did my friend get married?

Puja alponas - Are hard. Can't do them.

Topshe maachh - Taste great!

Goopy gain bagha bain - Is childhood?

Mowas mean - Round sweet stuff you get during pujos.

Taking crap from people - Aha re. Ki koshto.

Pete seeger - Is fabulous?

Jignesh raja - Erm, you mean Altaaf?

Cute girl bedi young - Errrr..

Doyeeta - Okay, I have MANY famous friends.

Mamdobaji - Sotti. Mairi.

I can't go on any more. There were hundreds of them. Some obscene. Many about Ray. And SOME were plain ridiculous like, 'cute girls drinking milk'!

However, it is always nice to know it is not only me who thinks Subhayu is useless.

I am obsessively cleaning my room at 2 in the morning because I have a test in less than 12 hours.

Loop.

Mera kuch saamaan tumhare paas para hai 
Saawan ke kuch bheege bheege din rakkhe hai,
Aur mere ek khat mein lipti raat pari hai
Wo raat bhulaa do, mera wo saamaan lauta do.

Patjhar hai kuch ... hai na ?
Patjhar mein kuch patton ke girne ki aahat,
Kaano main ek baar pahan ke laut aai thi,
Patajhar ki wo shaakh abhi tak kaanp rahi hai - 
Wo shaakh gira do, mera wo saamaan lauta do.

Ek akeli chhatri mein jab aadhe aadhe bheeg rahe the,
Aadhe sookhe, aadhe geele, sukha to main le aayi thi,
Geela man shayad bistar ke paas para ho ;
Wo bhijwa do, mera wo saamaan lauta do.

Ek so sola chaand ki raatein, ek tumhare kaandhe ka til,
Geeli mehendi ki khushboo, jhooth mooth ke shikwe kuch -
Jhooth mooth ke wade bhi sab yaad karaa do,
Sab bhijwa do, mera wo saamaan lauta do.

Ek ijaazat de do bas,
Jab isako dafanaaungee
Main bhi wohi so jaungi.


Play this for me a hundred times, and I would request for another round.

So I was on a boat a couple of days ago, with the dark waters below me and the dark sky above. And the lamps at the ghaats winking from another life, maybe. When suddenly, I would have killed to hear a few strains of Bhatiyaali.

It was then that I realized that even though it hasn't even been a week, I am more than ready to go back home.

I feel alone.

I want Oscar Wilde and Cranberry Breezer.

And, I want people from Delhi and Hyderabad and New Jersey and Australia and Trivandrum and New York and Boston and Bangalore and other assorted places.


I demand that all of you come back. Each and everyone. Like, right now. And hang out in my room, and listen to music and watch movies and bitch and get drunk and talk and talk and talk until the yellow lamp glows dim, and then everyone can fall asleep. I will even cook breakfast. Luchi and aloor dom, and machher chop and cheesecake. I make a really mean cheesecake. Or else, if the weather permits, all of us can go for an early-morning tram ride. And have piping hot tea from the jhupri, with the 2 takar lero biscuit. Or we could make a stop at moharani for the kochuri and the jilipi. We can also have port-wine rattirbela. And I have a whole book full of cocktail recipes I want to try out. Anyways, I digress. I am rambling. I have not had an exhilirating conversation in AGES. Not with these people anyways.

I miss my friends.

Come back you. You, and you, and you.


Gah.

House of Cards.

Not really. Not at all. If you take into account the incredible, INCREDIBLE energy of the little Santhal kids dancing, singing and acting away to glory at Gyaan Manch yesterday. It was rivetting. It was humbling. Cynicism, at least temporarily, packed its bag and left.

I have been to this particular auditorium numerous times. Almost always to watch random intellectual plays, which did nothing for the pretentious soul that I am. This time, however, goosebumps did come.

As a teacher pointed out, amongst all the people around us, our ex-headmistress is probably leading the MOST meaningful life of all. I am just so incredibly glad that I know someone like her.

I will probably ( why probably? almost certainly.) go back to being the cynical, pretentious, empty-talking, card-playing no-gooder in a few days. Till that old self comes back, however, I shall quietly bask in the goodness all around.

There was a long patch of intense stupidity a couple of summers ago. And even through the regret, I am reading old mails and thinking whether second chances are valid.

"You either die a hero.....

....or you live long enough to see yourself become a villain. "

I guess he chose the former.

For once, let's just not talk. Useless words anyways.