Kali Puja

Tucked away on the South Eastern railway line that extends from Howrah towards Kharagpur and beyond, is a small village called Kulgachia. I'm not too sure why my grandfather decided to make that his home, but he did, and it's been almost seventy years since. Here, my grandparents built their own house, raised six children, lost one, survived a bunch of extremely naughty grandkids, and breathed their last.

Kulgachia, to me, has always been my "desher bari"... of long corridors and paved courtyards, of bathing ponds and mango orchards... and of course, our family Kali Puja. Almost as old as our ancestral house, this annual event is what brings me back to Kulgachia every year. Kali Puja connects me to my roots, ties me up in nostalgia, and for one night, lets me be a child to his Mother.

Waves

For three hours last Sunday, we
sat by the sea,
and watched waves.

Each different from the other, yet
indistinguishable,
in their incessantness.

Isn't this how love is supposed to feel?

The comfort of knowing that, no matter
how today ends,
there will be tomorrow..

Crashing against our shores, slowly eroding us.

Good Things Happen to Good People

Throughout my adult life, for as long as I can remember, I have loved, laughed, listened.. cared, shared, repaired.. and forgiven. With so much good karma under my belt, it was way about time the universe started paying dividends. Yea, this sure feels like the start of something special.

shaadi dot com

A few hours ago, my friends and I were at the rooftop bar,
Drinking tall cocktails, crazy purple shots, and smoking cheap cigars.

They all left, soon after the last bell rung,
I decided to stay, for me the night was still young.

And now I'm standing at a crowded corner of the high street,
All alone among people, I'd otherwise never meet.

There's vomit on the pavement, the air smells of stale regret,
But we're all in this together, we're playing a variation of roulette.

Yes, we're all in this together, buying 'n selling dreams in polychrome,
You see, the last bus has left... and everyone's in a hurry to get home.

Forward Now, Forward...

A few days ago, an old friend of mine (you know I don't mention names on this blog) asked me whether I'm up for a weekend getaway to Rishikesh. Dying to do something different with my life, I said yes.. and we drove all the way from Delhi to Biyasi in my faithful Maruti Esteem. The first evening at our campsite was spent around a bonfire with Old Monk, a guitar and old Hindi songs. Early in the morning of Day 2, the both of us scrambled our way to Shivpuri, for a 16km white-water rafting trip that was included in our package deal.

This stretch on the tumultuous Ganga, from Shivpuri to Rishikesh, has famous Grade IV rapids like the Roller Coaster and Golf Course. As a non-swimmer, I was obviously super nervous, and yet never more sure that I wanted to do this. The next hour and a half was an experience I'll remember for a long, long time. Not so much because of the thrills.. to be honest, I've been on amusement park rides that are scarier.. but because of what our raft guide Rohit taught me that day.

When approaching a rapid, remember that the splashing water will try to push you over, and you need to counter that force. So, instead of holding on to the safety rope.. just lock your feet under the air tubes, sit on the outer rim of the raft, and paddle forward as fast as you can.

And that, ladies and gents, is now my Mantra to life.

Amores Perros

You're on your way home. On your bike. Slightly over the speed limit. But that's okay.

You realize you're losing control of the handlebars.

Your grip tightens. Everything blurs into slow motion. You just have enough time to think "Oh, fuck!"

You see people helping you up. They look concerned, and funny too, opening and closing their mouths. You can't hear what they're saying.

You look down. There's a rather large red blotch on your jeans, near your right knee. It is slowly spreading out. You can't feel it.

You remember. There was a dog. Crossing the road. You had slammed your rear brakes. There was sand too.

You look around. Your bike is all smashed up. You search for the dog. It's nowhere to be seen, probably ran away from the crowd.

You look at your bike again. This is gonna cost a bomb. You want to get angry. But you smile instead.

The dog is okay.

Happy New Year

I don't really publicize the existence of my blog, and so, if you're reading this, chances are you know me pretty well. I tend to turn to writing when I'm feeling rather emotional about something, mostly when I'm depressed. A simple per year post count will tell you that 2006-2007 and 2014-2015 have been the worst years of my life.

That changes today. I know I've made mistakes, but I also know I've done everything possible to make amends. And more importantly, I know I've learnt from each experience. You see, what matters most is not the first, or the second, or even the third chapter of my life, but it is the final chapter which will tell the world how well I wrote this story. Watch out!