A Prized Catch This....

I am thankful to this kind man for having thrown his net into the water just so that I could catch him in his act. I achieved two things:

1. I had always wanted to catch the actions of a fisherman in his net throwing act. I achieved it today!! Even though there was hardly any fish around.

2. I left behind a man who was happy and had a smile on his face, because I photographed him.

Believe me, there is nothing more satisfying to see.!!! :D

The One Man Army- Johnny Bravo

I used to totally love his cartoons. He deserves a spot on my blog. He's awesome.

:D

Some of his quotes that are so totally unforgettable.....

"I am Johnny Bravo, the one-man army!"

"Wanna see me comb my hair, really fast?"

"Hey Foxy Mama, You smell kinda pretty. Wanna smell me? Hoohah!"

"Mister, I don't think you realize who you're talking to. I'm Johnny Bravo, the one-man army!""Man, I'm pretty."

Whoa, Mama!"

"If loving me is wrong, you don't wanna be right!"

(Looks in mirror)"Wait, who's that handsome guy?" (Dials phone) "Hello, 911 emergency? There's a handsome guy in my house" Oh, wait, cancel that. It's only me."

Pachaas!!! 50!! Ponchaas…Number FIFTY!!

It’s taken awhile in coming and for someone who loves to write, it’s way too long. But then there’s always an idiom or two to crack and save my ass- I will go for the cliché- “It’s better late than never!” 

I was taking it slow…and with time I lost track of how slow it was getting. Anyway, it’s here. This 50^th post. I want to thank you for the constant feedback that you have given. And I’d like for you to continue giving it.

The 75^th post, for sure, will come faster. I am getting better see!!

Anyway I had thought of posting something that is close to my heart a special meeting with someone who is a role model to me. But that I guess, will have to wait because of what happened today morning.

My granddad comes up to me in the morning and says,

“I am a big fan of your writing. I have a separate folder where I save all your writings. You write so well- the depth in your writing doesn’t come across when I talk to you (not very compliment-ish but never mind!). Keep writing like this. Love You.”

This was something special. And I couldn’t help mentioning it.

Thanks a ton, granddad.

Love you.

Keep an eye for this space. There’s a lot more that is about to come up on this blog.

Eight by Twelve

I sit inside this 8 by 12 room- a place I am supposed to call my “office” and I am supposed to be doing work. But everything from my ears to my soul, are outside. On the other side. They belong there!

Hell, I belong there, on the outside!

I can’t help but hear the constant chatter between two office colleagues at the top of their voices (no wonder Mamta Banerjee or any Bengali, for that matter, can speak so well without a mike during rallies- loud speaking is a talent, a trait within a Bengali’s blood!!), that quick step of someone hurrying past my door presumably to the washroom (my office is pretty much next to it!!), that sharp click of a woman’s stilettos (do they actually wear stilettos to office?) is intriguing to say the least. it kills me not to be on the outside and having to use my imagination to figure out of what goes on in the outside world.

Sigh.

Back inside, the air conditioner is on and it stifles the living day lights out of me, kind of claustrophobic in here you know. I suddenly remember that case where a couple was stuck in the car during the Mumbai floods and had their ac on. They passed away in the morning. Is that going to happen here too? To me!!!

 It’s really funny you know, when you are on the outside of these “office cubicles”, one keeps wondering what goes on inside- are they hatching eggs , are they chatting with their lovers on their official phone-lines, taking a snooze, picking daisies or actually doing some constructive work?

But then there’s the case of you being on the inside, and BAM!!- reality hits you. They, some of them at least, are working. DAMN!! You were so much happier on the other side of that door. Why had you bothered being all inquisitive about the inside at all? 

But one has to deal with what he has around him. I have to contend myself with the paper white walls, dark brown furniture, a work station divided into two with your boss sitting right across you (so no facebooking either!!) and an exceedingly comfortable black chair which entices you to roll up into a ball and fall asleep.

Such are the cruelties of office. There’s really not a lot to do apart from work in this 8 by 12 torture room, once in awhile you crack that stupid joke which makes everyone laugh and the mood lightens, but that too lasts only awhile. And then, surprise-surprise…it’s back to mundane work.

Sometimes a peon comes by bringing you a cup of tea and as the door opens you get a peek on the world outside, intrigued by all that you have missed having stayed inside for those…10 mins. Seems like 10 years to me you know!

But then he has to leave hardly aware or appreciative of the freedom he has as for me, its back to dreaming/wondering/visualizing about all those brilliant things happening on the other side of my eight feet by twelve feet world.

Read, Flip, Smell- The Book-reading Experience

The first time that a book comes into your hand what is the first thing that you do, instinctively? I bet it’s the classic flip through and smell, isn’t it? Or am I just too weird and probably the only one who actually does that.


There is something about books that makes me do that and it gives me immense pleasure. Call me weird if you will. I don’t mind.

Whoever said that a book/novella is a treat for the eyes ONLY is grossly wrong. I too differ from this extremely popular belief!!

For me books are way much more than just another read through! As one passes a hand over a particular book you can’t help but notice the feel of the book- the smoothness with the occasional pronounced bumps signaling the prominent presence of the name of the book in huge, bold letters.

One would wonder, why is this guy suddenly writing about the texture, the feel of a book when all he does actually is opens it and reads it. I wouldn’t say he’s totally wrong but then he IS wrong.

A book can be read online too- in that case it would be called an e-book of course, but the point here is that some people like to hold their books in their hands when they read it. And you know why?

Well…

The feeling coursing through the holder of a book as he holds it to read is one of pure joy! The feeling is indescribable really.

And then as if mechanically, there is the famous flip through- gauging the size of the book and at the same time thinking whether it’s just another of those books where writers pen down their thoughts in an effort to sound cool or some the creation of a make-believe world to put children to sleep and keep the route of escapism open to all.

Another weird thing that I personally do with my books, especially the new ones is- I smell them. There’s something intensely orgasmic about the smell of a new book (the lack of a better word is evident!). Often books end being “made for the trash can” types but then I still end up buying it because it seems to SMELL nice.

No, I am not crazy. I just happen to think this way….

You are allowed to be weird for this post you know…childish, maybe if you call it that.

Flipping, Smelling and then Reading is the entire package and that is known to be good reading.

And no I am not crazy. I just think different.

Bluish Yellow

She seemed to be one of those conservative types. Open to a lot of things and yet guarded about those precious few. It was hard to figure her out and I had already made the mistake of knowing her through the eyes of so many others, but not this time!


From the few hours we had spent together (they were quite a lot actually!!!) I had figured she was a tough nut. You know those kinds who appeared to be so tough and “nothing’s wrong with me” on the outside but had raging debates about love, life and everything in general, within.

It’s shocking really that the more beautiful they are, the more controversial lives they lead and she was just about to end her teens.

Sigh.

I had noticed while we had endlessly chatted that she had something built around her…some wall (metaphorically speaking of course!) or something behind which she hid herself…guarding herself. I probed endlessly, trying to figure out what it was, I was intrigued. The more I probed the further back I got pushed and the more determined I became to know what it was that she guarded so fiercely.

She was the one who would allow me in!

Late afternoon was the “in-between time”. Dinner was not even an option and lunch time had passed, maggie was the only “cheap” option. That “2 min. meal” was all that we could afford any way! Eating in silence is not something either of us was used to and what started out to be an idle chat over maggie became a long discussion, something that became more than just any other talk.

We were talking serious stuff here. And the mighty structure she had meticulously constructed seemed to be crumbling!!

Contrasting lives we led and even more contrasting were our views towards it- at least some of it. I was the cautious types venturing into the unknown infrequently. She practically lived in the unknown with the “I care not” attitude and I guess that’s where we bonded. Opposites attract they seem to have said. Today I agreed with them.

We both guarded something or the other but she even more so. So much so that one noticed. Some left without bothering, others (like me) probed, intrigued…

The blazing (late) afternoon sun gave way to cool evening breeze but the balcony remained our sanctuary. It was peaceful and our talk didn’t seem like ceasing. It was funny to bond over yellow and blue, i.e., noodles and well let’s just say that blue was her favorite color!

It was carefree chatting about life which with every second passed us by…

But time played its cruel hand in cutting our beautiful evening short, the bond broke…but only temporarily and not before a promise that it wasn’t only a one off thing…

And I guess at the end of it, the wall didn’t matter anymore, all that remained was a small smile played on her lips and that she had found a confidant!

Just That Way...

Those eyes didn’t look at you, they looked into you.

Into your soul. Searching for something. Always. Analyzing. Calculating.

And yet to you it seemed like just another random stare.

She was different. Unusual.

And yet she seemed so much better.

What was it that made me want her?

There were reasons more than just one.

I pushed her away deep into my mind…

And there she lay just like that; blinding me from within, reminding me all the time that she was there.

I connected with her on levels beyond many that seemed to be strangely…strong!

Or so they seemed…

It was more of a bond between her and me; she wasn’t just another acquaintance or just that friend.

She was more. She knew it.

Our interactions had been superfluous to say the least, so many things were said…

But such a lot was left unsaid…left hanging in the air.

She was a hard one to get to know, masking what lay within,

…we were different people… the two of us…

But there was something there…

And whatever it was that seemed to be between us

I was happy…

And wanted it stay

Just that way...