Friday, December 31, 2010

Tees Maar Khan - Movie Review

One of my disgusting mistakes of year 2010 was to watch "Tees Maar Khan". Probably not only mine. May be this is what Akshay Kumar thinks too, for he has said that he won't do a sequel of TMK. Perhaps the much talked about item song "Sheila ki jawani" was just not enough to pull the movie off.

The Akshay Kumar - Katrina Kaif pair couldn't do the trick due to poor story, poorer comedy and poorest acting/direction. The story is about a thief who can open any lock in this world, one who can't be caught.

The movie starts with typical hindi melodramatic "Ma" type pregnant woman enjoying old hindi movie where thieves and robbers are being chased by  the half pant clad policemen. The baby in her womb inculcates all the trickery before its born. The baby emerges to be a boy named Tabrez  aka Tees Maar Khan (Akshay Kumar) and as expected becomes the biggest thief ever. He manages to fool two idiotic intelligence agents (Mukherjee and Chatterjee who later turn to be gay. Why was this required?) and escape. The movie proceed and so does the introduction of dumb, irritating and stupid characters. From Akshaye Khanna, the maniac Oscar craving actor, to the three assistants of Tees Maar Khan. Every now and then the assistants declare in chorus "Khano mein khan , tees maar khan". Katrina Kaif has been nothing more than a prop. Like a fly on a stinking dung cake. Except for two dialogues "Main aur makeup lagake aati hoon" and "Dirty dog" she's hardly audible. Askshaye Khanna plays the role of Oscar hungry actor. He vows for anything and everything that promises him an Oscar. Raghu and his twin brother from MTV Roadies (yes the bald guys who take sadist pleasure in  psyching out poor contestants) play a two in one combo pack funniest villain.

Tees Maar Khan is called in to steal 10, 000 kilograms of antiques for the twins, confiscated by the police. He pretends to be a director from Hollywood and convinces superstar Aatish Kapoor, played by Akshaye Khanna, to work with him promising him an Oscar. The crew starts shooting for a fictitious film in a village. Tees Maar Khan tricks the innocent villagers to steal the antiques from the police.

The movie lacks every aspect that is required to pull crowd apart from the item song. It neither has a story, nor sensible comedy. Mindless comedy exemplified. Budding and existing directors should see this movie to understand how not to make a movie. Farah Khan should do what she can do best, choreography. Pathetic direction and presentation made the movie difficult to bear. Every character seemed to be fed with a potion which makes them deliver nonsensical performance.

If you are excited about "Sheila ki jawani", I would suggest better watch the song on Youtube than watching the movie. And by the way, those who follow Facebook and have come to know that the name of Katrina in the movie is Sheila Kejwani, you are mistaken. Her name is Anya Khan.

TMK is not worth watching even with a free ticket. This movie is really torturous and no one with sane senses would find this movie worth watching.

I would rate it as 1/5 merely because of the entertaining "Sheila ki jawani" item song.

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

Death of a smiling face

A news channel last night was forecasting a piece of news. Among the pile of news that they served one  caught my attention and made me think.

A state government has published a big banner vocalizing its laurels and greatness. The banner talked about the efforts the government has taken in the agricultural sector of the state. The banner showed a smiling farmer indicating the development in the rural and agricultural household. The government claimed that the work that they have done for the people have brought happiness among the families.

But the irony was hidden. The smiling farmer,the man who served as a model for the big banner campaign is dead. He had committed suicide a year before this banner was published. The smiling face no longer exists.

This has given rise to a new row in the state politics. The political parties were too prompt in cross accusations and blame game. To stir the already muddy political environment, the oppositions accused the state government of negligence and false acclaims. The state government tried defending their positions saying that it was just a depiction of the effort that the state government has put in. The state government made no delays in declaring a compensation for the family of the "celebrated" farmer.

What did the farmer think before he died? Would he have ever imagined that his smiling face would earn his family  some compensation after his death? That his smiling face would bring down political fights among the parties in the state? That his smiling face would be flashed on a national media?

The answer is probably , "No". The death of a farmer is hardly ever noticed unless baked in the media flash lights. Sad but true !!!

Saturday, May 15, 2010

Watch out...

Last night while I was unstrapping my wrist watch, I smiled, then giggled. Some old dusty memories peeped somewhere from childhood.

Wristwatch, or anything worn on the wrist for that matter, are of great fascination to children, girls especially, and I was no exception.

Initially  it used to be a wristwatch drawn on my 4.5" circumference wrist with colorful ball pens. I remember, most of the time, it used to be a square or a rectangular dial wristwatch with smudged markings. The straps never met at the hind side of the wrist. A bath and the wristwatch would be washed. Then a new wristwatch, though very similar to the previous one.

It was summer holidays then. I was in class 4 or 5 or may be in neither. Time for my annual visit to my grandma's place. Time for mouthwatering mango pickles and juicy litchi (slurp...a post on it may be some time). My grandma always wanted to see us the best dressed. I wore the best frock ( a red colored chiffon frock with yellow and blue flowers), green beaded necklace, a wristwatch. This time it was white plastic wristwatch. Someone, must have been my uncle or may be dad, got it for me. Time was never a concern, because the watched pointed 10:10 every time. But who cares about time. The watch had holography in the dial which was the prime attraction. Tilt your hand, you see 10:10, tilt it the other way, you see "Madhuri Dixit".Isn't that awesome? I used to keep on flaunting my wristwatch all through the journey to my grandma's place. While other kids around me used to look at it with envy, grown ups never bothered. It gave me a feeling of "Ahhh...I have the best wristwatch...Everyone's watching". The wristwatch didn't last for long. Soon its charm faded and it was thrown.

I was in class 8, I nagged my father to get me wristwatch. This time, just not for flaunting (yes that too) but to watch out for time. He got me a wristwatch which had digital digit display. The watch was not that costly and attracted a rude comment from a classmate, "Where did you get this from? Footpath?". I cried. I was hurt. She had a brown strapped golden colored quartz wristwatch which had three ticking hands, invisibly tagged "Expensive and Elegant". My watch as expected didn't last long. It's digital display started eating up parts of the digits and soon displayed nothing.

Next I got a quartz watch with ticking hands. I was in class 12 then. A black dial black strap watch. It looked magnificent. It counted every minute as I wrote the crucial exams of my life. It lasted for a year though.

I got two more watches after that. One of them, as usual stopped while the other is still working.

My marriage, got me four watches. Titan all of them. A normal Titan, a Titan Sonata, a Titan Raga, a Titan Raga Diva (Bridal Collection). Three kept safely in my cupboard while one of them accompanies me wherever I go.

Small things that make a part of our life - a wristwatch. Every one has some or the other thing which though small, has a story of it's own.

Friday, April 30, 2010

Irradiating life...

Life saver has turned into lethal killer. And what's responsible for this undesirable morphing?...Negligence. Delhi University (DU) has admitted just one of them.

Cobalt 60, the radioactive isotope of cobalt, has been mishandled due to sheer negligence of DU authorities. DU bought a "Gamma Irradiator" containing Cobalt 60 pencils in 1968 from Canada. The Gamma Irradiator which was not in use since 1985, landed in the country's biggest scrap market, Mayapuri, through an auction in February this year. The Mayapuri scrap dealers dismantled the equipment and in the process, the lead covering on it was peeled off leading to radiation exposure. With the Irradiator is still radiating carcinogenic and toxic rays from the unsealed radioactive Cobalt 60 pencils. Until it killed a person and hospitalized eleven others, the mass destructor lay there unnoticed, poisoning everyone's life to slow death.

Cobalt 60, if used with proper safety measures and caution could relieve the torturous pain suffered by a cancer patient.  Measured doses of cobalt 60 are used for sterilizing medical equipments and source of the radiotherapy for cancer patients. If used with negligence can induce the excruciating pain of cancer. Gamma radiation emitted by Cobalt 60 may have irreparable impact on the genes and lead to genetic disorders in the present and further generations.

Scientists investigating the issue have confirmed that the level of contamination is such that even the land where the machine was dumped need to be excavated to stop further spread of the radiation. They suspect that much more Cobalt 60 pencils are missing than those found. Laborers, dealers and general public of Mayapuri, who have been handling or been exposed to the deadly machine without proper safety measures now live the danger of unknown health disorders. Threat sword has also been hanging on the lives of DU students and researchers.

So, what does DU have to say about this whole calamity? The Vice Chancellor of DU, Deepak Paintal, said he was "extremely sorry for the damage caused". He also said that university officials believed that the machine's radioactive life had expired since it was nearly 40 years old.

With so much knowledge about handling and disposing nuclear wastes and the havoc that may be caused if mishandled, is this what we expect from a premiere educational institute of the country? The life of uncountable number of innocent people has been risked and perhaps endangered. Is taking mere verbal responsibility revert back the far reaching consequences of nuclear radiation exposure? Who owns the responsibility of the safe disposal of nuclear wastes? Who owns the responsibility of educating the public about the hazards of nuclear exposure? Should educational institutions be barred from conducting researches involving nuclear resources? Should the government set up dedicated laboratories and research centers for performing nuclear and atomic researches in India?

And after all the whole commotion about this issue, the machine still lay there in Mayapuri, dismantled. Irradiating life....

Saturday, April 24, 2010

IPL chit chats

 Aisi kya baat hai ismein??

Shaadi kab kar rahi ho Preity?

Iss baar running between the wickets achha tha na mera??

Kyun aaya haam idhaar??? Kolkata jeet ta hi neyhi

Performance, match nahi toh yahan sahi

Washing powder Nirma, doodh si safedi, nirma se aayi...

Anne French ka ad toh main bhi kar sakti hoon, Kareena kyun??

IPL ke bahane kuch lok seva. Some kapda for the bhukha nanga spectators 

Max New York Life, Karo zyaada ka iraada 
Har kar jeetne wale ko Baazigar kehte hai

Kismat se tum humko mile ho, kaise chhodenge...

No comments....

[Picture soure here]

Friday, April 16, 2010

Great Indian Television - Shaadi aur Barbaadi...

Bahu shedding tears while Saas lashing verbal whips. "Arre o kalmuhi...baap ka ghar samajh rakha hai kya? yahan muft ki roti todne aayi hai?" . Wife questioning her husband with a drop of tear at the corner of her right eye, "Batao, kal raat tum kahan thhe...arre tum kya bataoge!!! (pointing her palm straight at her husbands face)...tumhari khamoshi, tumhari yeh jhhuki hui nazar sab bayan kar rahi hai... aisa kaise kar sakte ho tum Mihir...aisa kaise kar sakte ho?" (four drops of tear from right eye and some from left eye, carefully preventing the fifth drop from trickling down in case it smudges off the eyeliner or the muscara). Smile showing only seven teeth that too of the upper jaw. Eyeshadow and foundation even when coming out after bath. Straight silky black hair with relatively less makeup indicates that the character is a protagonist. Stringed blouse, bright  and matching coloured bindi and sindoor depicts the wicked vamp. Skewed eyes and often monologues ensures that this has to be the vamp, no other thoughts.

The  most common phenomenon in almost every house in the country which can afford television. Television soap operas have successfully hooked up the Indian wives (and therby their husbands). They come every evening, five days a week (wives won't mind even if it's seven, husband would also agree for they won't have to take their wives shopping). Almost all the houses in the country which can afford a television, spend their evening with the ever weeping bahus, torturous saas, dhokebaaz (or too loving and caring) pati, conspiring sautan, illegitimate children.

No matter which channel you put, it's all the same.As my father puts it, all of them has the same core, "Shaadi and barbaadi".  It used to be a big chandelier hanging living room with most things in different shades of red. The typical of the Ekta Kapoor serials. A husband married to the protagonist and antagonist at the same time. Children popping out  now and then entangling the already over entangled relationships. Characters never grow old. Only a streak of white hair (specifically trailing from the forehead to middle of the skull) and spectacle, a mustache at max, distinguishes one generation from another generation. Immortal Baa, ever (over) prayed Thakurji gives some religious touch to the story to keeps the aged wives, reason to forget their gout  pains.

Things have changed after the Ekta empire collpased. Now, the main  mantra is a village. Peril of simple village girls and ladies have worked wonders for the TRP seeking television producers.  Village girls no matter what, wear designer cloths from West Side or Shopper Stop. Hungry family with smoking tava on the chulha (earthen oven) but with lands grazing till the horizon. Men showcasing their mardaangi in dhoti and kurta rather than safari suits. But one thing is for sure. Their would definitely be a Zamindar and all the shoots would soon shift from the chulha blowing huts to the luxurious villa. No matter how poor the protagonist be, she'll land up in the Zamindar's house within twenty episodes.

And if you are bored of watching the same old serials, there are reality shows at your rescue. Challenging the celebrities (those who manage a role in the serials for a year or two, self proclaimed audience heart throbs) to perform tasks. However, these are no less than the soap operas. They have emotions, drama, fights, romance and what not....The once saree and jewelry clad bahu betiyaan get the golden opportunity of showing off their well maintained (sometimes flabby due to prolonged break from work) body contours. Reality shows recently have taken up the job of Rab for finding and uniting  jodis. Celebrity bachelors and spinsters approach the reality shows in search of their soul mates. The country exercises its voting rights (democracy you see...yes the same that the country uses for electing our most eligible ministers and MLAs) to choose the bride or groom for them.

Channel producers have always figured out plots to keep the common Indian wives of all ages forget the rest of the world. Forget about the quarrel she had with "baaju wali Mrs Sharma", or son's poor marks in SUPW classes or gossip about "Mrs Gupta ki beti Mrs Shukla ke bete ke saath bhaag gayi" or complain about the maid coming late or even the burning roti on the gas stove. Forget the world to engulf the emotional melodrama. Sympathize with the tortured bahu, hate the wicked sautan, die for the handsome dewar, idolize the ma , envy the caring husband. 

No matter whether the Women Reservation Bill is passed in the parliament or not, one thing is reserved for the Indian women. The Television, every evening from 8pm to 11pm.

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

A Letter to KKR Owners from a KKR Supporter

Respected KKR Owners,

Dear Sir/Madam,

First of all congratulation for the consistent performance of your (also morally our) team.

I fail to understand why I’m writing this letter because I know it won’t make any difference. I’m doubtful of this letter being read in the first place. But I can’t stop myself from penning down my agony and anger.

I know it’s a game. One team loses while the other team wins. But why is it that we have taken the responsibility of making the other team win every time? Waiting patiently for a good descent game if not a win. Hoping against hope for KKR to win atleast “this” match. But every time, every year it remains unperturbed. While other teams climb up the points table, KKR slides down. KKR has taken up the noble gesture of serving as the foothold for other teams to ascend.
I don’t know whether you can understand the piteous condition of this KKR fan. Bengalis around the world are pre-assumed to be KKR fans by birth and hence tormented after every KKR loss. Being a Bengali and thus a KKR supporter, it’s afflicting to see KKR at the foot of the points table each year. Our logics prompt that KKR won’t win, but our heart defies it every time. We start the game listening to our heart but end the game seeking solace from our mind. “Never mind… After all we knew this would happen”…With hope, trust and moral rampaged in every match, it’s becoming an agonizing thorn in our throat. A thorn that causes only pain. One that can neither be thrown out nor swallowed. KKR has caused more pain than happiness. Also, supporting KKR keeps us away from supporting good cricket, teams and players who play cricket well.

“Ohh… another KKR match today…it’ll lose again”…”Hey your team has a match tonight… hehehehe… it’s definitely going to loose”….. “KKR…hehehehehehhe (sarcastic laughter)”

Why is it KKR every time? Why can’t I say with pride “KKR will win today, you just wait and watch”? Why can’t my team give me some victory to hold my head high and make all those who laugh at KKR, swallow their words? Why can’t KKR give the Maoist stricken Bengal a cause to celebrate this Poila Boishakh (Bengali New Year)?

People say that the KKR team is not good. They lack coordination. Team management isn’t that diligent. It’s a spineless team which lacks spark. But, I won’t point out fault with the team or the management. Because I don’t know what’s wrong and needs to be mended. I only know KKR has disappointed its supporters and taking verbal responsibility of this menace would do nothing.

Standing in the IPL graveyard with KKR coffin in front of me with only two nails to be struck, I really hope KKR wouldn’t have existed. That’s what my heart and mind whimper in unanimity. I hope not to see this KKR in the next season.  

Agonized, but still a KKR Supporter

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Letter from a country servant

Respected  Uparwala Sir,

Sir, I am a country servant, Sir. My Commander tell me that my work is to serve the country. He say every one is not packed in national flag when they die. Every one do not get "topo ki salaami". I will get if I die.

But I don't want to die , Sir. I am a constable at the Dantewada. My house is in a village at Kakdeep, South 24 Parganas, West Bengal. Last year, I got this work after my father died. My father was also a country servant. He died in the forest of Lalgarh in landmine blast two years back. His body was packed in the national flag and dumped in a wooden box. I am the only son, Sir. My house has old half blind mother, wife three children, two cows and one goat. I had sold my land to repair my house after the flood. The only earning member is I. I send them four thousand rupees every month. Four thousand rupees is less to send my children to school, treat my mother.

Sir, I am afraid of the work. I am afraid of the jungle. I am afraid of the Maoist. They hide in the jungles and the hills. They has many many guns and bombs. They attack us and kill us. We are helpless. We don't know the forest. We don't know the forest roads and the soil goodly. We get lost in the forests. We can't sleep because if they attack we will all die. We cannot see them. They start firing bullets like monsoon shower. They put landmines also.Blasts our men and vehicles. There is blood and pieces of flesh smeared everywhere. Smoke of dust and "barood" everywhere. Cries and deaths everywhere. I saw my friends die. Their burnt and tattered bodies. Cry of pain with bullet in their stomach, legs, chest. Uniforms red of blood.  I am very afraid, Sir. I don't want to die. I don't want my bursted body to be packed in national flag and send to my house.

If I die before you read this letter, then please keep some of the request from my friends. My friends say that it is difficult to work in this place. Apart from the Maoist, there are much more enemies to fight. There is not food and water. Very little food, that too eaten away by big big rats and cockroaches. There is not doctor or medicine. If we fall sick we fall sick. No one to give medicine and take care. There is many many mosquitoes. My friends has malaria, fever, liquid stool. It is difficult to fight the Maoist in empty stomach and sickness.

I follow your orders, Sir. I do all my duty, Sir. Please have pity, Sir. I don't want to die.

Your obediently,
Country servant SatyaHari  Mondol

Sunday, April 4, 2010

The Royal Safari

"Aaaawwwwhhhhhhhoooooommmmmm" yawned the lion stretching its forelegs. Then stretched its back and hind legs and turned around to its fellow lion sitting next to him under shade of the bamboo bush. "What's the day today, Dirtymane?", he asked the other lion. "Don't know Yawny, the weekend's over I guess...Old Mr. Groaw would know. He has been here for years" replied the other lion shaking its dirty disoriented mane. Old Mr. Groaw was having a sun bath near by lying flat on the ground.

"What is the day today, Sir?" asked the Yawny. "Today is working day... the weekend is over... the sun has also come up high... time to get ready boys...they'll be here in some time"... grawled Mr. Groaw.

"Ohhhhh.... Ahhhh.... Those humans." sighed the lion. "Dude, shine your teeth and lick clean your skin, look fresh and agile, the human's like it"... replied Dirtymane. "Yaaaaaaaaa......" yawned Yawny. As they walked towards the small pool near by to have a look at how they looked in the reflection of the placid water, Yawny said casually, "Why do the humans come here? Poor fellas, they are isn't it? Stuffed in the small moving boxes clinching to the windows" ..."Aahhhuumm, really poor fellas...Have you seen them? How excited they are to see us breathing free air. Pathetic. I really feel petty for them" agreed Dirtymane. "Imagine if one of them lets free. I would go and say how sorry we are for him and invite him to join our life of freedom". "Aaahhhumm"..noddded Yawny. They dipped their paws in the water of the pool to check the temperature. Licked the water once or twice and then headed back. They laid down and posed a perfect posture just beside the stony road.

"Are you ready boys? I can hear them come. Smile or at least look at them once. Are the tigers and the herbivours of our next door ready yet? Dirtymane, send them the message, that the humans are coming".

In the tiger camp, things were different. The number of tigers were more than the lions. There was silence. The white tigers and the yellow bengal tigers are not in talking terms due to the verbal fight they had the other day over who looked better. The white tigers team headed by Mr. Milk and the yellow tigers team led by Mr. RoyalBong. The whites argued that they looked elegant and unique to which the yellows teased them of looking like zebras than like tigers. "Zebras" sounded like an abuse to the whites who took it as an attack on their carnivorous origins. The ceasefire atmosphere is just not to let outsiders(humans) know that there tension between the teams. The two teams sat hurdled in groups with the stony road serving as the line of control.

Herbivours looked disturbed. The scorching heat and lack of rains has dried the fodder. Grasses and herbs have lost greenery. Trees are reduced to skeletonic horror. As young deers jumped all around their mothers found it difficult to manage them. "Don't pester near the road"..."Come and sit here for some time, you are sweating"..."The humans are coming" screamed the concerned mother deers to their calves. "Where do the humans go from this direction to the other?" asked Mrignayani, the elegant looking deer wagging her little tail. "There may be green pastuers where they'r taken to. Suffering and ailing animals first. God help them, poor creatures" replied the handsome deer standing next to her.

Bears looked the most annoyed this summer. Their black furry jacket which proved comfortable in the chilling winter, is making them perspire under their skin. "It's so warm, I don't feel like doing anything" complained the fat bear, Beershove. "How lucky the human are? They don't have thick hair like us", said one of the bears. "I'm just gonna relax, can't walk around. Poor humans, they can't even sit and relax. Being dragged in those small boxes"...said another.


In came the bus packed with humans. Chirruping and enjoying the wild animals through the iron netted windows. Flashing cameras with excitement at the sight of yawning lions, sitted tigers, jumping deers and lazy bears.

The Royal Safari....

[Photos courtsey Subhasri. Taken at Banarghetta National Park, Bangalore, March 2010]

Friday, March 26, 2010


[This is a sarcastic post. I have no intentions of hurting personal/organizational sentiments. Incase it does, my sincere apologies]

Our office has been seeing series of farewells in the recent past. The same old formalities every time . A "All-Hands"meeting (since our company doesn't have much employees, it has the luxury to gather all the employees at a common forum).

Every one gathers to bid farewell. The truth is, very few people cares. People have to be called and invited to shed their esteemed presence to mark the occasion of the departing soul. After a brief introduction about the reason of this gathering, people rock the stage with words of praise.

Sometimes its a prepared speech , other times it's a spontaneous one. They talk about all the good things you've done. As if, life would be so difficult without you in the organization. As if, you had been the Hercules of the organization, without whom the organization would have perished. Unforgettable contributions, technical expertise, team player, hardworking, passionate, sincere and what not. (I always fail to understand, why aren't these said during your appraisal? Why???).

Some of the most common ways of starting these speeches are.. "I have know ABC for the past X year. He is a great person to work with. I have worked in such n such project with him......." and blah blah blah.

If the speech is by one of your close colleague, you can be sure that some funny incident would be publicized with much spice and exaggeration.Incident when you were drunk and sat in the middle of the road at 2am, first meeting which involved a weird conversation, habits that you have if you happened to be roommates/flatmates.

The spontaneous ones are rather funny. Mostly having double meanings (You are smart, you can interpret!!!) "I have shared good professional and personal life with him" ...("Even boxers?" in came a giggling comment from someone standing behind me)..."I have learned a lot of thing from him both professionally and personally"...."We had spent excellent time together"...."He is one of the few guys, whom I look up to"....

Every time it's exactly three speeches. After all these, people still stand there to hear from you. As if, last words from a guru (one who has gained enlightenment). Some people become emotional ("how can this happen to me?" type emotion), others are unable to hide their clandestine happiness of leaving the organization to follow the divine path of enlightenment. But there are some typical sentences that all remembers to include in their speech. "I have learned a lot here"..."I would cherish this experience throughout my life"(Really?!!)..."I have had very good colleagues"..."This is the perfect place to start one's career"(We are so lucky, aren't we?!!)...."Thanks to A, B,C, and also D. I'll miss you all".

After your speech, people gather to have gleams of you. Shake hands with you as if you were are celebrity. Mobbed all around."Best of luck!!"... "All the best for your future"..."Keep in touch"... showering around you.

Wow !!! it's only on the last day that you know that you were so special and valuable. And you thought no one gives a damn about you all these days.....Wrong isn't it??

Farewell... Huh !!!!

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Bengalis in Bangalore

I'm a Bengali. Bengalis are those unique creatures from the "Mamata fighting CIPM" land, who possess some typical characteristics which distinguish them from the rest of the crowd. Not the typical red bordered white saree clad women as shown on the television, nor the jostling at the fish shops.  Bengalis have certain certain cells in their grey matter, that dictates their behaviour in the crowd.

I've been in Bangalore for almost 2 years. My daily commutation by bus to my workplace has made me experience something about the Bengalis in Bangalore. Would definitely not extrapolate to all the bengalis in Bangalore, but is applicable to lot of them, including me at time.

Being in a different state(Karnataka) where one would not hear "Dada(elder brother)" , "Didi(elder sister)" and "Boudi(sister-in-law, elder brother's wife)" around, Bengalis tend to think that they are the only one among the crowd, whose cryptic language would enable them to express their thoughts and gossips aloud.

Unaware of another Bengali's presence, Bengalis tend to speak aloud. The other day, a young lady sitting just behind me was speaking over the phone. I couldn't avoid eve's dropping to her interesting talks.

"Ki hoyechhe go?(What happened dear?)"........."Tumi shara din kothai boloni (You didn't talk to me the whole day)"(passionately)........."Tumi personal life aar professional life ke alada rakho (keep your personal life and professional life separate)"(tone becoming harsh).........."Na na na, aamio chakri kori, tumi ekai shob korona( No no no, I too work, you doesn't do everyting alone)" (this time much harsher, I knew a verbal combat has commenced....a short pause..."tomar ma khali aamar dosh dekhe(Your mother always finds fault in me)" (typical grudge against her mother-in-law like a typical wife)......"Aami office theke beriye porechhi, aashchhi bari(I've started from my office, coming home").

The lady rose and got down at her destined bus stop.

I was sort of enjoying it. It gave me peculiar sense of self-esteem of  "I am the only one whose could decrypt her encoded words among the fellow passengers".

I spotted a rugged looking man the other day. "Is he a Bengali?", I thought. Soon he proved me right. He received a phone call and started his conversation, as expected, in Bengali. "kemon haagu hochhe?(How was your stool?)"......"Shokto na norom?(Hard or soft?)"....."Koto baar hoyechhe?(How many times?")"...."Ki ronger? Holud na kalo kalo?(What was the colour?Yellow or blackish?)"....He kept on enquiring.

Talks on various issues have penetrated my ear drum on several occasions. Lectures on cooking, discussion about in-laws, generalr talks about daily life, second hand bike for sale, instructions of  taking regular medicines, availability of good maachh (fishes), colloquial chatter about hot babes, and even colour, texture and frequency of stool.

One common thing about all these conversations is that they are all monologues. Bengalis discussion all of them over their hand held devices.

If you are a Bengali staying in Bangalore, beware!!! The next time it might be your conversation published on my blog. Always remember that you'r not the only one.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

How I met "Him" - Final Post

Warning: Keep expectations low from this post.

Wanted to go to the temple this morning but postponed tentatively till..............Today is Ugadi, local festival in Karnataka. We've got a holiday and have lots of outdoor plans for the day, so thought of scribbling the post in the morning.

So.....what happened next.................

We went in Sahib Sind Sultan. Friends and colleagues who have managed to get to Sahib Sind Sultan by then have told me that it's an expensive restaurant. It's advisable to cut your manager's pocket in this restaurant than our own. Baapre !!!!! 

Ohh... I forgot to mention this particular incident during his first call. As he suggested Sahib Sind Sultan for lunch, I was like OMG. The "paise bachao" activist in me protested and soon could be heard. I repeatedly tried to convince him that it's too expensive and should be avoided. He still remembers and mimics my clamour. He told me that it's a good restaurant and is not that expensive. I had to agree, but it gave me impression about him. "This guy is spendthrift. Which means if we get married, I would have to witness the heart ripping scene of cash flowing out of our account". Let's see....

Indeed Sahib Sind Sultan was good.
 The dimly lit ambiance with soft instrumental music of old hindi movie songs made it a perfect place for two of us to talk.

[Picture Courtesy -]

Guess the first thing he asked???

"Do you know how to cook?" he asked with a grin. "Yes" I said trying to be shy. He later disclosed though that he expected a "No", expecting me to be a good-for-nothing, over pampered IIT professor's daughter. 

We settled down in the cozy seats (as seen in the image) facing each other. My eyes avoiding his. My heart pounding. A smile stuck to my lips. Once or twice I tried to have a look at the surrounding to inspect the crowd around. He started the conversation hesitantly. I joined in. One thing that I thought I would make clear was the fact that I talk too much. I'm too talkative. The initial couple of minutes of shyness that I tried to project was soon abated by the burst of talking that I did.

We talked about a lot of things. Being from the same alma mater gives us lots of topic to talk about.
We talked about IIT , khadus Profs, depressing departments, bunking lectures (though I've only 1 class), hostel life.
We talked about Kharagpur, Durgapur(his hometown and my native place), Kolkata(I was suprised to know that I've never been to Kolkata and have not seen the famous places), Bangalore.
We talked about cricket, music, my tv serials and movies.
We talked about our hobbies, interests, jobs, life, friends, roommates.
We talked about our achievements, successes and victory.

Our conversation was occasionally disrupted by the waiter serving our mouthwatering meals. Boneless chicken tikka in the starter added to my delight. Fragrance of steaming chicken biryani cooked in ceramic pots and spicy chicken curry led me to forget the expense. Regular sips of "Sahib ka panna" (a cooling mint flavoured pineapple juice) rejuvenated us to talk more.

Now that we have talked so much and was feeling less awkward than before, I thought of asking that great question which I've thought of asking any prospective groom. The question that could lead to the guy to be rejected.

Me: "May I ask you something?"
Him: "Yes sure"
Me: "Do you drink and smoke?"
Him: No (nodding)
Me: Really!!! (surprised)

I felt relieved, as if a heavy stone have been remove.

We talked and laughed. It was a great meeting. It seemed as if I've known him for years. So very much good and impressive was he that I have to admit I liked him. He looked simple, honest (atleast to me at that time), smart and responsible. I liked his smile. I liked his thoughts and way of handling issues. I liked his respect and care for family. Wanted him to marry me.

In came the dessert, cooling "Litchi ki teheri" (deseeded litchi simmered in milk, similar to kheer). Our meeting was coming to an end. "I'm your senior from IIT. This is a treat from me" he said. "Wow!! good for me"  I thought.

We started to leave. We paused. It was time to say goodbye. "So....what are you going to say to your parents? Shall we go ahead with this relationship?" he asked. It didn't take me time to say "Yes". I asked him the same and "Yes" came the answer. We promised to meet again. We waved goodbye. I wished we could talk for some more time (I always feel that though).

The clock read 3pm. On my way back, I called back home. "Ma, I liked him, he's good , looks way better than his photos......................." I informed them excitedly. They sounded happy. I had just crossed the first hurdles of an arranged marriage.

So that's my story. That was "How I met him".

Sunday, March 14, 2010

How I met "Him" - 2

I'm in mixed mood today. Pissed off because I've charred my mushroom curry and struggled for 2 hours to solidify a batter to call it pudding. On the other hand , happy and exhilarated as Kolkata Knight Riders have won their second match in IPL 3. With Dada (Saurav Ganguly) hitting a eyecandy sixer over long on has added to my elation.

Well readers... let's continue what happened next from the previous post.

On the very day (the day of the lunch)I woke up quite early. Finished all my regular stuff quickly. Bathed in and rinsed my hair with shampoo way early than other days, so as to let my hair dry and look fluffy instead of sticking to my scalp as they normally do. Though it was not pearly glossy and silky as the shampoo advertisement claims to make the users hair, but made my hair presentable. Never mind...I got dressed up in a mauve coloured salwar kameez as my mom has said and rubbed some cream and powder on my face to look better than I'm on any other day.

The most deprived thing of all my belongings is my purse. Though I earn a descent salary, my purse never has more than hundred bucks, sometimes even less than that. The first thing I thought off was to withdraw some cash to avoid any awkward situation at the very first meeting.

Since I reached Forum early, I thought of diving in to stationaries in Landmark (the famous book store in Forum Mall). My vibrating purse notified of an incoming phone call. It was his, I knew.

I was nervous. Would have whispered "AAll izz well" to my heart if only Aamir Khan had sung the song a year back.With quivering heart, I came out of Landmark and my legs proceeded towards Sahib Sind Sultan.

I saw a guy coming towards me. I knew it should be him. Wow, he looks much different than his photo that his father has sent. Looks much younger and hmmmmmmmmm............ not bad at all. But his dressing sense was not as I had thought, but ok. Wasn't much tall, neither am I, so good.

The first round was cleared. He cleared the first round "Looks and Appearence".

We went and had our sit in the restaurant.

Ohhhh............. This has already become a long post. You must have got bored of reading, but I have more to tell. I'll continue it in the next post. Till then happy cheering for your IPL teams.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

How I met "Him"

It has been more than a year. To be precise, 1 year and 8 days since we've met for the first time. We refers to me and my husband (the then prospective groom.

Couldn't disclose my experiences then, since our marriage bells could not be heard. But now after year, let me recall how it all happened...

Pardon my poor memory which acts as villain in most occasions when I am to dust my memories.

It was a late Wednesday evening when he called for the first time. It was 25th of Feb, around 10pm in the night. I had already gobbled my dinner and was preparing to go to bed. My mobile rang displaying an unknown number. It was "HIM". I knew he would call, but didn't expect it at the very moment.He wanted to meet me, as expected. I agreed.

We were supposed to meet for lunch at Sahib Sind Sultan (a restaurant in Forum Mall, Bangalore) in the forthcoming weekend. I was nervous. Repeated instructions from my mother added to the palpitation.

"Don't laugh loudly. Just smile...."
"Don't talk much, be shy..."
"Wear descent salwar kameez..."
"Sleep properly or you'll get dark circle..."

Were some of dos and don'ts which I was suppose to follow to present myself as a good and eligible bride.

Then came the very day. I was supposed to meet a boy whom I've never met and who perhaps would be my life partner. I would have to spend my life with him, a stranger.

What should I ask him and try to know about him to decide whether to proceed with the relationship? What are the qualities a person should have to be compatible with me for rest of my life. I had no idea because I had never thought about it.

I hope you are able to understand the weird and pathetic situation I was in. With eager parents, discouraging sister and confused me, my poor little mind was at a toss.

What happened next??? Well, the next post would tell you.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Cacophony to whispers

My previous post attracted a lot of junk comments, I don't know why?? Perhaps the title did the trick.

Never mind.

I'm bored.Bored of taking rest. My recurring fever adds to the anguish. I've got pharyngitis. That is upper throat infection. My cacophony has been cut down to whispers. With occasional strikes of cough and choked nose has made my life much more difficult.

Now you would say, what's a big deal, everyone (ummm... not everyone though) has fevers and sore throat. I know, this post is to keep a record that I had to visit a doctor for this (everyone does, but I haven't for last 15 years), take antibiotics ( a broad spectrum antibiotic to be specific). I know I'll be fine in couple of days (thanks to the antibiotics, they are capable of curing almost any infection on earth).

This is really a change after marriage. This is an addition to the previous post.

Visit to a doctor

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

Life after marriage

It has been a long time since I've written the last post. I was on the verge of a new beginning. Those who know me personally already knows what I'm talking about. For those who don't, let me tell you that I've got married. This is the new beginning of my life. By the way, let me tell you that ours is an arranged marriage (turned love marriage :P).

People say that life has not changed after marriage. Even I tell people this whenever asked. But to tell you the truth, there are lot of changes to count. My way of thinking has changed. The more careless and irresponsible I was, the more responsible and caring I have become. It feels good to care for my husband. Happiness is no longer one's own. It's shared. One draws happiness from the others smiles. I've (perhaps !!) learned to be patient. Listen and obey him(with lots of nagging though :P). The sense of security and comfort that I enjoy now was never before in the past one year.

Enough of good and philosophical words, the more realistic change is the way I lead my life. From the bustling rooms where I used to stay as paying guest to a house with two of us. From being under restrictions and orders of the tyrannous landlady, to a house where I can do things as I like.

And readers, if you are waiting for me to tell about "that" specific change in life after marriage, yes "that" too.

Life changes a great deal whether you accept it or not.