Me and My Cup

In 1987, I was in class XI, under pressure to study hard such that I was well-prepared for the engineering entrance exams that I was scheduled to take the next year. I bunked my tuition classes and watched on Television, India being swept out (literally) of the World Cup Semi-finals by Graham Gooch and England. And just for the curious, I failed to clear the entrance exam whereas all my friends did.

The next time we had the world cup semi finals in India, I was doing my M.B.A. Needless to say, I bunked a presentation to be at the Eden Gardens and saw after a dream start (both Jayasurya and Kaluwitharna going cheaply), succumb to poor pitch reading and inept batting. I had to escape early, with minor injuries from a thrown bottle , to avoid being lathi-charged by the police after the crowd failed to accept defeat gracefully. There was another fallout too—A punishment assignment which screwed my grades in the 3^rd semester.

In 2003, Sourav and his merry men conjured visions of the impossible before the finals and I, obviously, bunked office. The story was repeated and the Aussies belted us out of the finals in the first half itself. And once again, I got a reprimand that had an implication in the annual appraisals that year.

This year Dhoni and his X- Gen reached the semi finals after defeating the erstwhile invincible Australia. It was mouth-watering stuff, as the semi final opponents were Pakistan. Now what do I do? Here I am running my business and there’s really no one to force me to work, if I don’t want to. But I took a call. I fixed a meeting in Durgapur late afternoon. I was not going to watch another defeat. I was going to work. My  ‘didi’ was going to Mohali, my friends had bunked office and my colleagues had arranged for a mass viewing inside the office. But nah! I was going to work today.

And look what happened!! :))))))))))

I promise to work on this Saturday too.

FIE!!!

I thought that I would not write anything about this.

I thought I would absolutely ignore this blaspheme. Like him. He has been quiet and dignified in his silence. ‘No reactions from him,’ cried the press. Coming from him who had always been quite sure and vocal about his points of view, it’s clear that he was answering back the assault with a snub of silence. I thought I would do the same.

But the amount of justification and pseudo chest-slapping by a bunch of people comprising of one hamming actor, one over the top businessman, two out of job actresses and some two - bit has been Indian ex-cricketers along with some corruption personifying sports officials have pushed me into this post.

I just wanted to put on record that the entire jing bang mentioned above and their cronies and assistants together would fail to assess what makes someone reach 17000 plus international runs aided by 38 centuries. They would obviously have no idea about what it takes to create a world beating side out of a rag tag team ravaged by match fixing allegations of such massive level that made even the Cricketing God himself was morally down.  Of course, they do not have any idea of how to lead a team of mismatched individuals to victories in at least some of the matches and to be within the first four run makers of the competition, even though the team was longing at the bottom of the table.

But I forget! I am talking of people who would think that the ‘Late Cut’ was a new tax avoidance procedure and a ‘Long Leg’ was what one needed to create a hit!!

So, Lord forgive those for they know not what they have done!!

Moving on to 2011

Another year draws to an end leaving behind with me  more grey hairs, some bruises, some excitement, some milestones, some hope, some despair and a lot of experience.

Personally, the year 2010 -Twenty ten to some - leaves behind the aftertaste of a battlefield. It has been a year of struggle and fights with moments of exasperation, of grinding effort and relearning the art of warfare. Challenges flew in from all sides and it required all of my mental strength to ward them of. The effort left marks all over me but somehow the head did not dip.

Having said all that, 2010 also gave me the belief to take on new challenges and proceed towards untested waters. It did define new interpersonal relationships and raised the patience levels. Milestones did come in, like starting a new phase of business and shifting to my own house. A lot of people did extend their support in this fight and I remain ever indebted to them.

But above all, I feel that 2010 made me slog and create a platform for the future and 2011 would hopefully see the take off from there.

So here I raise a toast in anticipation and wish all of you a great and fulfilling 2011.

Daekhcho tumi shomoy takae

Bhabcho bujhi ketey jaabey

Korcho kaaj aponmonae

Bhacho shob korae jaabey

Takiyae acho bahir paaney

Bhabcho raat ketey jaabey

Bhulcho tumi ashol kotha

Shesh banshi ta shunyo hobae

Chesta'

Aaj thekey abar notun path chola

notun ashay buk bendhey thaka

tanaporon  aar hanahanir majhey

jebon juddhae shudhu benche thaka.

Aaj thekey hridoy jurae shudhu

abar notun korae kono gaaner  koli

hartey hartey jeeta jaoar chesta

jotodin na shomoy bolae ‘choli’.

Shift of Home

Yesterday, I took the road to Durgapur once again.

As I hit the NH-2 and travelled outside the periphery of Kolkata, a whole mass of swaying ‘kash’ flowers carried me over to the past. For a period of 8 long years, every year around this time I used to take this road early morning to go home – home, where my parents stayed, where my friends waited for me and where I could be myself.

The rush of fond memories flooded me as I stepped off the bus and looked around to see the familiar signs.

But, thereon the things changed. I did not go to ‘my home’. I went to my office, instead. My parents had shifted to Kolkata. A majority of my friends have moved to other locations in quest of livelihood. I borrowed a bike and moved around all the places I used to hang out at, once upon a time. The pandals looked lovely, there was more pomp than I had ever seen but I felt like a tourist.

I took back the evening bus after I had finished my work. The same roads brought me back – to a place where my family is, where my friends waited for me, where the roads seemed so familiar, where the para pandal seemed to beckon.

I realised that ‘my home’ has shifted – or maybe I had multiple homes, now.

MAHALAYA

‘Ashwiner Sharodo Probhatey--------.’ Intoned a nasal voice from the transistor at the crack of Dawn ( or probably before it, as the sky was still dark) and half awakened me  from my sleep, I knew that Pujo had started. For me, Pujo meant one thing – Durga Pujo.

From childhood, this unforgettable voice of Birendra Krishna Bhadra was part of my waking up process on the day of Mahalaya. Back in Durgapur, I remember listening to the chants and the unforgettable songs half asleep, getting in and out of sleep, while I snuggled close to my Mom or Dad to keep away the early morning chill. The smell of Shiuli would drift in from the garden outside and add to the surreal feeling of the moment. I would fall into deep slumber towards the end of the recital and would wake up much later with the childhood joy in my heart for an ensuing vacation.

Two decades later, I found that not much has changed. I woke up with the same chant throbbing in my ears, drifted in and out of sleep and finally fell asleep at the end. True, that the chill was absent (effect of Global warming?) and there was no Shiuli tree near my 3^rd Floor apartment and it was raining. It was also true that my parents were in the next room sitting by the radio and listening to it. But the surreal feeling remained the same. The same dream like feel, the same warmth in the heart, the same unknown, unreasonable feeling of comfort.  I still woke up with an unknown joy in my heart as I looked forward to a particularly hard earned vacation.

Two Decades and the feeling had not changed.