What’s there in a moment?

(25 Oct 2013)

What’s there in a moment? Well, a lot, I suppose; may be a lifetime of eternity!

A moment is so negligibly small and unquantifiable, it’s not even a formal ‘unit’ of time. Mathematics or science does not recognize a moment as a measurable entity. Yet, a moment could hold all the truth of one’s life; a moment could be all that separates life and death; a moment is what stands between a yet-to-be-born and a just-born. A lot of arguments are won and lost in a moment. Sports matches are decided in a moment. Kisses are planted and forgotten in a moment. Anger can kill all conscience in a moment. A moment could just be too momentous to be ignored!

Despite no scientific evidence to support, I’m of the philosophic belief that the moment right before we breathe our last is the most enlightening of them all. That’s when, though in a jiffy, we’re made to glance through the entire balance sheet of our life. There’s only one birth and there’s only one death. You won’t come back to experience this overwhelming journey called life – the greatest gift! That one moment is when you know how well you’ve served the purpose of your life, how well you have equated the left hand side to the right hand side of the balance sheet. It all happens in this life alone. The full bioscope of our life and times, of all laughs and cries, of pleasures and pains, of gains and losses, of virtues and vices, of lefts and rights, of could-haves and should-haves, of blacks and whites, of remembrances and oblivions, of rises and falls, of trusts and betrayals, of physical and abstract, of love and hatred, of brilliance and mediocrity, is in that one moment of our encounter with the truth. That one moment signifies the final leg of the ride, when everything good and bad must end, beyond which there would be no moment of realization, no sunrises and sunsets, no beginnings and ends. 

It is in that tiny moment before we die that we live forever! That’s the moment of eternity. 

Marriages: then and now

(16 Oct 2013)

Back in the day, going by what we gather from epics, eligible bachelors trying to woo beautiful women for marriage would line up at the ‘swayamvar’, and display their bravery and prowess as warriors. The ‘best’ male would be someone who could sweep the woman off her feet with an exhibition of vigor. If you decipher the word ‘swayamvar’, you’d know it was a celebration of a woman’s choice of her own (swayam) groom (var). She enjoyed quite a free hand in choosing her man, from amongst a galaxy of powerful men. This wasn’t a typical ‘arranged’ marriage as such except that the invites to all the contestants would be sent out by the girl’s father. As it is, it was the lady who chose her man; not the other way round!

Times have changed, so have social practices. We don’t organize a ‘swayamvar’ anymore. We instead have men and women choosing each other. They go out, they spend time, and they try to know each other before taking the vow. They reject each other if they feel they should. Despite all the ‘love’ marriages happening all around, the fact that ‘arranged’ alliances are still immensely popular and practiced is evident from the big business matrimony sites are doing. When your parents couldn’t and you yourself couldn’t or maybe didn’t, these specialists come to your help. We have ‘relationship managers’ even before a relationship has been formed! They’ll take personalized care and find a match for you. An organized outsourcing model, I should say. It’s true they connect two strangers, much like in a traditional ‘arrangement’, but thankfully the society’s taboos have changed. It’s perceived okay for the wannabe couple to hang out, to try to know each other as much as they can, and prolong this courtship period if the two decide so. While in some conventional parental space, it could spell uncertainty due to the unknown nature of the devil called the cyber space, it is also a relief from having to go through the painful exercise of finding a soulmate for their son or daughter. Today’s times are so different from theirs, it could be unfair to subject them to such decision making on behalf of a generation they almost never understand well.

What I like the most about my generation with respect to marriages is that it doesn’t want to shy away from taking charge of life. Making one’s own choices is so much fun and so much full of life. My generation most importantly is ready to take ownership of the space of their life they think belongs exclusively to them.

It’s interesting how what we do changes over time. If you’ve had an arranged marriage, please be proud you’re contributing to the new ways to getting married that allows the couple to fall in love before they exchange garlands. If you’ve had a love marriage, you be saluted for being a pioneer of the change our society is going through in terms of perception and practice. 

Whatever your method is, marriage is a great experience. Try it once! 

Maa Durga, see you in 2014

(15 Oct 2013)

Wishes, they say, have wings. We want all the good things of things good and bad. We want the best of both the worlds. That’s you, I and us.

The last few days had everything that could make me the happiest guy in town and also soon see me beginning the countdown for next year’s Durga Puja. There was miles and miles of sometimes aimless driving, there were friends, fun and frolic, there was pandal hopping, there was ‘pushpanjoli’ (yes I did that!), there was yummy ‘bhog’, there were two birthday parties hosted by two lovely friends, there were two baby-companions. And there was some quality wine!

Gargi and I have gone places – quite literally so – over the last three editions of Durga Puja. Kolkata in 2011 was our first Puja together after marriage, and Gargi was superbly excited to participate in the ‘sidur khela’ after gaining ‘eligibility’ to do so. Gargi’s first overseas Puja was going to be Melbourne in 2012. It was a sea of new experiences for us and we drove home cherishable memories. Bangalore, as it was this year, has been very different, pretty hectic and extremely fulfilling. The ‘Saptami’-special lunch at Bhajahari Manna in Koramangala had the elements to clean bowl the best batsman in the world. I plan to go back there soon, asking them to serve me THAT mutton curry only. I want to again search for the SORRBA puja all along the Sarjapur Road and still not be able to get there. I want ‘protima-lover’ Premangshu to drive my car again with Gargi sitting back and Tanmoy chasing us in his papaya orange Nano – Tathagata, Maitri and her parents all following the Hyundai beauty’s indicators. I failed to do it this year, and that’s why I want to count next year how many times Tanmoy calls us ‘Haridas’ for failing him with the map. I want to again circle R T Nagar and hit the temple where there would be no Puja. I plan to re-visit the BTM Layout pandal to see a new-born Bangla music band perform. I’ll be happy to order fish fry at the Puja ground and be served rohu fish fry just because someone would run out of ‘bhetki’ fish.

I want to hear stories of the little Kiu mistaking Durga’s lion for a dog and passing marching orders to it to ‘go home’. I wish to spend another day at Puja pandals with Kiu’s lovely parents and enjoy their mesmerizing company. I will long for Tathagata to manage a round of sound sleep amid the high-decibel sound of the ‘dhaak’. I will wait for Gargi to snatch the camera off me and go on a shooting spree all around the pandal at Ulsoor. Maitri will keep me waiting for a year to see her participate in all the fun holding the little Tathagata by his hips.

Sad but true, Durga Puja 2013 is over. All the great moments will now have to pause for a year. This is perhaps what closely protects the exclusivity of the grandness of the festival. This is after all what unites Bengalis like nothing else does. Durga Puja is worth waiting for. 

See you in 2014. 

Humor: what it is for men and women

(8 Oct 2013)

(This is a light-hearted article meant for laugh. The writer neither practices nor advocates gender bias.)

Of interest is the observation that marriage jokes historically have been created to describe the sorry state of the man. There is an underlying admission that women are privileged to be married and men are doomed. Why don’t we know enough two-liners that speak of the opposite? Do women, in general, find their marriage more divine than men do, or is it that men simply have sharper sense of humor?

Amongst the globally recognized good traits of a man is his sense of humor. Someone who can tease or pull his female companion’s leg is perceived as eligible in some quarters. Such men usually make good friends with ladies. Guys also know humor is an essential armory they can’t do without if they wish to sweep girls off their feet.

Men make fun of almost everything known to men – be it women or films or sports or anything considered worthy of a man’s taste. Women in this department are pretty conservative; they’re sensitive to the extent they won’t crack a joke on something men would find classically funny. Every man has a closely guarded world he shares only with his male friends; it could prove too risky to expose those humorous shades of his with female companions, chiefly because of the fear of being misunderstood and getting hurt. The fallout of these potential slip ups could be too hazardous and the damage control too time-consuming. Hence there are two broad types of jokes – one that is something like a joke, and the other The Joke.

Coming back to the point of marriage jokes, it’s not true men don’t love their women. They of course do! But it’s in the very nature of a guy to sometimes be casual in his approach to life and relationships. Whether from Mars and Venus or from Neptune and Pluto, men and women essentially are different creatures. A guy therefore finds it absolutely okay to say, ‘Honey, you look fat’; the same guy would also not hesitate to say, ‘You look hot tonight’. A woman is far more ‘serious’ about the business of marriage or of relationships. She won’t find it amusing if her man jokingly said something she thought was insulting to the relationship; but she would be coy if the same partner paid her a fake beauty tribute. To the guy, both are expressions of humor, but he would perhaps never be able to convince his ladylove as to what is humorous about them.

It’s a global concern. Guys want to open up and share their funny side to ladies. The problem however is that since most of the man-jokes are about women, chances are – and women have proved they’re up against it – they’d be perceived as vulgar and distasteful. 

An appeal to the female fraternity: men wish to invite you to please shed your dogma of what is and what is not humorous. There’s a wonderful world out there waiting to be explored that celebrates playing prank on the way you look, the way you talk, and the way you think you are. The richest variant of humor is one that glorifies the peculiarity of oneself! 

A love affair called Bangalore

(7 Oct 2013)

During my initial years in Bangalore, I one morning found a big tree next to R V Dental College in J P Nagar uprooted due to overnight torrential rains. It pained deep into my heart to see this happen to such a lovely member of the Garden City, a city with whom my love affair had just about begun. Many trees and a lot of greenery since then have fallen prey to the pace of human civilization. We’ve replaced them with corporate installations, flyovers and underpasses.

We’ve fractured the roads, dumped garbage dangerously close to some of the most rustically beautiful lakes, and polluted the air. The chilly evenings now are far too infrequent, and some of the days could at times make you sweat – something not known to Bangaloreans! Many households have in the last decade bought themselves fans, and some have replaced fans with air conditioners. This isn’t the Bangalore I’d fallen in love with, when I came here to appear for Indian Army’s south selection board interviews in the pre-final year of my engineering days. I lasted at the Army camp for all of the five days of the interview schedule. My love for the city was to last forever. 

Bangalore has bangalored me in ways more than one. It groomed a raw boy into a refined man, it was the window to the world for me, it gave me a launch pad I could take off from, it laughed with me and listened to me when I cried, it gifted me friends I could treasure, it saw me grow through thick and thin, it exposed me to the sun yet offered balm in the form of experience, it taught me lessons I never knew were there, it made me emotionally vulnerable yet ensured I grew stronger mentally, it played with me at its will and I kept enjoying. All this while I was beholding with joy, the beautiful chapters of my life unfolding and turning over to the next one. Bangalore has been a reflection of my own successes and failures, of my achievements and misses, of my laurels and condemnations. It in many ways has been just like me.

I do not like the traffic, the roads, the pollution, the dust, the corruption in Bangalore. Yet, there is something so magnetic, so intense, and so familiar that makes it such a darling. What if even a ten-minute-rain pushes the traffic off the hook, I could still smell the watery muddy fragrance while maneuvering in my car. Despite the ever-exploding population of the city, it has allowed me to create my own little sovereign space and protect its privacy from external poking. Yes, women today may feel more vulnerable than earlier, yet it’s a delight to watch all those wonderful ladies who exert their presence as they wheel away on peppy two-wheelers. M G Road of course has lost much of its old lustre with the disappearance of some of its iconic hangout dots, but I see many other areas evolving as the go-to joints for young Bangaloreans. If a body part of Bangalore is dying every day, another of its parts is coming alive.

May be this is love, perhaps blind! But when you’re in love, do you care about the left hand side and the right hand side equating the brain to the heart? 

Live long Bangalore, and keep bangaloring me. 

Durga Puja: then and now

(04 Oct 2013)

Our life is an ever-changing canvas; the same color means widely different when seen over a period of time. As a boy born into a Bengali family in Tripura, the biggest time of the year for me was Durga puja. That was the time when I’d be gifted new clothes, freedom to move around with friends, be out in the evening fog. I could also not study for days and not be scolded by my father. That was after all the most eagerly awaited festive season for a Bengali household. On the day of Bijoya Dashomi, when the idols were immersed into water, my eyes would be watery, for I won’t have this life of a free bird for another year, for how fast the puja days went by, for I knew my wings would again be ‘clipped’. That’s what I thought and that’s what Durga puja meant to me.

After three decades, Durga puja is still called Durga puja; but the meaning has gone through iterations. New colors have made it to the canvas! Nobody clips my wings, nobody dresses me up, I don’t get to smell the shiuli flower, I don’t get thrilled holding toy-guns and fighting with my mates, I don’t look at the Ashur’s muscles and wonder how herculean he would be, I don’t pity the lion for not looking strong enough to bear Durga’s weight, I don’t stare with disbelief that the mouse could never survive Ganesh’s heavy figure or how Saraswati could ride a mere swan or why Lakshmi had to choose a bird as ugly as an owl or why the two sisters looked alike or why Kartik had to have moustache. I also don’t feel like a child anymore and hence don’t read the ‘sharodiya’ editions of Anandamela or Shuktara or Sandesh.

May be this is part of growing up; may be this is part of over-growing your age. What I know for sure is that my prolonged absence from the core of Durga puja celebrations due to years of living away from ‘home’ has meant a diminished level of excitement for this grand festival. There is rust all over my zeal, my passion, and my participation. I felt like an alien when after nineteen long years, I experienced Durga puja in Kolkata couple of seasons back.

Now, when I look back, I know I’m not the same person any more. Durga hasn’t been out of my sight; I have been. Such is the majesty of hers, I assume, she won’t deny me a comeback should I choose to.

Shubho Mahalaya!