This could be true of any City, but it doesnt happen everywhere.

You know, Calcutta is so overrated by the intelligentsia. Ask the lads there gathered at an adda smoking bidis, and chatting about everything, from Jose Mourinho's riff with his clubs owner to Kobita (their classmate) not having tits at all (fanka maath, empty field in english). It happens everywhere, the gossip, if not Jose Mourinho then definitely the Kobita stuff.

Untill not-so-long ago these guys wandered aimlessly, singing Nachiketa songs, inebriated. But I hear they've all got jobs with the call-centers in Calcutta and with other call-centers in the country.

Shantanu aka Kanu, works in Bangalore now. And like any other Bengali good-boy, he has to visit his Maaaaaaaaa at least twice a year (nothing Oedipal about it, let’s not read much). He was part of the group described above and is one of the guys doing quite well in life, monetarily.

Kanu left Bangalore in the morning for Cal. He took a flight. It’s economical and within reach now, you know. Nothing special happened at the airport or inside the shuttle bus or inside the bigger bus. No sexy chicks by his side, no naughty airhostesses. In fact the airhostesses were shabby with stains on their uniforms. I mean yeah…wut do you expect of a no frills airline.

Contd.

The becoming of Nihilists

Man has an unreasonable ‘fate’, a ‘destiny’ that is controlled solely by the surroundings around him. He cannot by himself be happy or sad, let alone the realities of choosing a career, a job, a woman, a society, and acquiring a taste (although there are certain elements that always give you a high – like the first spell of rain after an arid summer). But that has hardly anything to do with the capitalist-free-market society, where everything comes on a platter. It becomes all-the-more unacceptable if, even in your weirdest of whims, you choose to go slightly off tangent (in the aforementioned categories and more).

In such a scenario what does one do? Let’s first be clear. There is nothing called fate or destiny. These concepts are as archaic as they sound. As you come to terms with life and yourself, you realize that things are so meticulously programmed, that more than half the population you live with, doesn’t even have a clue of what you are talking about. Therefore you sit back and contemplate of altering your reality. But you also immediately realize that it’s not as easy as they had taught you in the college or university.

So you buy time…you buy time to decide. Decisions are very important to existence. Being sure of what you want. Being sure of your “happiness”.

yours truly@GoaFest

Impressionable Ears

I don’t know what state of mind to be in right now to write this blog. JNU and the class of 2003 CGS/SLLCS (for those who left), (it’s an integrated course mind you, i.e. till you finish your PG. So there can be two classes of pass outs even if they get enrolled in the same year) has been a cauldron of emotions; gyan, love, bonding, friendship, tutelage and of course communism, though there was a minority of unreasonable guys and girls with the youth wing of the BJP (OP, Nitin, Alok take it with a pinch). Not that my comrades were a reliable lot.

I was thinking of coining a punch-line for the esteemed institution and probably thought of this one as apt – “a dope of education”.

Well, not digressing from the narrative, my class was a heavily dominated class (taking Taran’s perspective on this) dominated by people from a particular region, including me, I don’t live too far away. The only ones from other parts of India were Taran (Delhi), Tashi (Delhi, she doesn’t like being called Tashi, there’s definitely lots of things in a name, sorry Herr Shakespeare), Pallavi (Ajmer, god knows where she is now) Roshan (Jodhpur) and oh yes, we had a Russian boy, Eugene (Russian Embassy, New Delhi, this guy was a high-tech cheater-cock). Nishant, Meenal and Ranjini joined the class in the second year to make it "more" cosmopolitan group.

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gotta go but i'll get on with it, its fun...

Art: Bala, Copy: Me

Art: Bala, Copy: Me