My tryst with the GYM!!

I have just come back from the gym – huffing and puffing and sweating and swearing!

It will not be an exaggeration if I say that at this very moment, every single cell in my body is aching and crying out dearly in pain. After all, they have not worked this hard for quite some time now. For the last three years, the only thing they have been doing is to gorge on the fatty and rather delicious Indian food that I have been sending down their way. So, no wonder they are taking a big hit.

My life story with the place called gym has been full of vicissitudes.. a love-hate sort of relationship, complete with the frequent breakups and pangs of extreme guilt. My current motivation is my upcoming trip to Spain. When you are in the land of the Tomatinas and encierros and gorgeous women, you ought to look good… at least that is what I learned from Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara.

So, in spite of what every part of my body says, I am toiling it out in the LA Fitness after work 4 days a week…

Hola España, here I come…

Three Things

There is a reason I said I’d be happy alone. It wasn’t because I thought I would be happy alone. It was because I thought if I loved someone, and then it fell apart, I might not make it. It’s easier to be alone. Because what if you learn that you need love? And then you don’t have it. What if you don’t like it? And lean on it? What if you shape your life around it? And then it falls apart. Can you even survive that kind of pain? Losing love is like organ damage. It’s like dying. The only difference is, death ends. This? It could go on forever.

The important thing is not to be bitter over life’s disappointments. Learn to let go of the past and recognize that everyday won’t be sunny. And when you find yourself lost in the darkness and despair, remember it’s only in the black of the night, you can see the stars, and those stars will lead you back home. So don’t be afraid to make mistakes, to stumble, to fall, because most of the time, the greatest rewards come from doing the things that scare you the most. Maybe you’ll get everything you ever could have imagined. Who knows where life will take you? The road is long and in the end, the journey is the destination.

People come, people go- they’ll drift in and out of your life, almost like characters in a favorite book. When you finally close the cover, the characters have told their story and you start up again with another book, complete with new characters and adventures. Then you find yourself focusing on the new ones, not the ones from the past.

Courtesy: Life is a beautiful struggle

 

Happy Birthday Bro!

Today is my brother’s birthday… It has been 21 years of just plain awesomeness. Happy Birthday Dude!

I remember the first time I saw you. That was a long long time ago and I was very young but I still distinctly remember every single thing about that encounter. Dad had brought me to the hospital to see Mom and meet you. I remember on our way to the hospital, I saw a toy bus in one of the stores and I got totally hooked to that. I got so crazy and mad that he had to buy me that red and yellow bus just so that he can take me to the hospital. I entered the room and there you were – this very small red cuddly little … thing… – doing things that babies do in mother’s arms. I am at a loss of words here to describe the feeling. It is the sort of feeling only a child’s heart can feel. Curiosity, fear, love – all mixed up into one.

I don’t exactly recall what my first questions to Mom were and I am sure there were lots of them but I remember getting totally excited by the band which the nurse had put in your wrists to identify you. It had mom’s name printed on it and for some weird reason I just found it to be so fascinating back then. I remember showing the red and yellow bus to you and I also vaguely remember Mom coaxing me to tell you that I had brought it for you or something like that. What a day that was, 23rd July – I got you and the red and yellow bus.

Our journey together over the years has been one hell of a roller-coaster ride. I remember the time when you in a fit of childhood curiosity for moving things, ate the cockroach from the old attic locker. I remember the time when we found you eating mud out in the open. I remember so many things about our life together. Now that I am trying to write this small piece, all of them are coming right back to me. School!… Oh our school!… I remember the entrance exam you had to take to get into school and how even after the exam had started, you were looking here and there and all over the place but not at your answer script. Mom had to shout at you from the window to make you start writing. I remember that because I was there laughing at you like a crazy fool. My apologies for that. But those were definitely the first signs of the free spirit that you are now.

When you were about the start school, I was so afraid that you will not be able to converse in English or Hindi properly there with the other children. I don’t know why I was, but that, I suppose is what childhood is all about – silly stuff, unfounded fear. But as it turns out,  not only were you able to converse fluently, you made a mockery of the course by your consistent high scores and record breaking marks. I am so proud of that and you would be glad to know that I have long since buried my doubts regarding your language skills.

To be very honest with you, I have always wondered how a person could be that versatile – music, dance, art, language – you were always the best. At school, when because of your massive involvement in the cultural shows and events, all the girls used to kiss you and hang around you, my friends and I used to get very very jealous. They used to poke me and tease me about that… horny little devils!! I am so proud of what you have achieved. Whenever I see the boxes full of your medals and shields and certificates, my chest just swells with pride for you. But bhai, for all of these always be very very grateful to mom and dad. Without them, we never could have achieved what we have. Always remember how they made huge sacrifices for our good… How they have always put our interest first and their desires and wishes last.

I spoke to you that day and you were very distraught. You were unsure of what you want to do, about your studies, about your volition, about what other people think about you. Don’t be… follow what your heart says. Do what you want to do. We will always be there for you. It doesn’t matter what other people say or think about you, most of them will not even be around two years down the line. Try to recognise the people who matter to you, to whom you matter. Share your life with them, make them part of your life. I know it is difficult. If I know you a tiny bit, then you are like me – you want to keep everything inside, where only you can peer in. You maintain this outer coocon of ‘I don’t give a damn!’ but deep down you are vulnerable, very fragile. I know this feeling, but start sharing… it soothes you, makes you calmer…

In my life, every single thing is massively complicated now. When I say everything, it literally is everything. Be it finances, job, friendships, relationships, health – you name it and chances are that it will be in some weird and complex concoction of complicated mess. Out of these, a majority are my own creations, and some are just circumstances. But when I try to think hard about the things that have led to this, I am always bewildered by the number of times I could have taken the correct path, the less complicated one or at least made amends but I didn’t. This may all be there in hindsight but it is very important to recognise the moment when you know something is right. The solution, person or event might be staring at us but due to our self righteous beliefs and unrealistic assumptions, we might totally ignore that. That results in unnecessary complications in our lives and the lives of others connected to us.

I know you are very smart and you probably have the coolest brain atop any shoulder on this planet, but try to recognise the moments when you know what is right and what is wrong. We will always be supportive of you and what ever you do, we will always stand firmly behind you. Good Luck for everything.

Happy Birthday again…

I was having this discussion with a very good friend that day and she made me realise that I have never said this to you before… you will agree this is a Bengali thing and saying this in that language is super weird… but here I want to say it…

I love you, Chotu… God Bless!…

Cross Cultural Solutions Costa Rica Trip Part 2

Finally my information kit from Cross Cultural Solutions has arrived. This big fat hunk of a parcel is, to put it delicately, fully LOADED…  It has a letter from the programme manager for Costa Rica, Molly outlining all the important things that need to be done before embarking on the trip, a T-Shirt which I am supposed to be wearing when I land in San Jose, an international volunteer suitcase tag,  information booklet about Cross Cultural Solutions, Participants handbook for volunteering in Cartago, Volunteer abroad Programme Handbook, and the all important Placement guide.

It will take me some time to digest all this barrage of  information, but it is for sure damn exciting. However to slightly dampen this excitement, I have to pay the programme fees before October and to tell you the truth, it is no small a sum. I have been saving for a few months now and I hope to save enough by the end of September to account for the entire fees plus any additional expenses. But it has been tough… In the World’s most expensive city, saving a huge chunk of your salary every month amounts to finding yourself without a penny at the middle of the month every month. Huuff!!

As far as flight tickets to Costa Rica are concerned, that was a super nightmare for me. There are no direct flights from London to San Jose, so one stopover is imminent. This one stop can be in any country in Europe, Latin America or North America… Now, that there is a massive source of confusion and anxiety for me. I mean you can always brag about visiting a particular country if you can transit through it. My dilemma was how to choose the one among these gazillion countries about which I can brag about in drunken ecstasy later. After much deliberation, I decided to take the easy way out… I allowed money to do the talking for me.

Holders of Indian passport need visas to visit almost every country in this planet. My situation is slightly different because of my UK resident permit.  I need visas too visit some countries such as the US and Israel but I don’t need visas to visit others such as Costa Rica. Also, while transiting through the Eurozone countries, I am exempt from getting a visa if my transit duration is less than 24 hours. Now, to go to Costa Rica, I had two options, pay less and transit through the US or pay more and transit through Spain. But, to make matters interesting, US transit visa costs around £140 while I can transit for free in Spain. Thus, overall the cost for transiting through the US was going to be much more.  So, finally after much calculations and timing adjustments, I found a flight that suits me. I am flying Iberia from London to Madrid and from there Iberia again to San Jose.

Finding the perfect flight is difficult and it is always a big trade off between money, time and patience. One great flight booking aggregator that I used for this trip is Expedia.  I used others as well such as ebookers and Opodo and it is always a good idea to look at all of them to find the best possible deal.

That’s it for today… Stay tuned for more from my great trip to the land between two oceans: Costa Rica

My Baldy

This one goes out to all the baldies in the World. Don’t worry that your top is empty, it is what is inside that matters…  Some people look great without hair. If you fall in that group, then good for you mate, you have made it… But even if you can’t pull off a head devoid of any sign of keratin, don’t be sad or dejected (or wear a wig). Be positive, look at the brighter side of things…  no early morning combing sessions, no bad hair cut embarrassment, a lifetime of savings on hair products and the exclusivity of the baldie club… Even you have made it, bro!

 

 

My Costa Rica trip: Cross Cultural Solutions

Finally, it’s official. I am flying to Juan Santamaria International Airport, San Jose, Costa Rica on the 11th of December, 2011.

I am going to a place called Cartago, 25kms from the capital, San Juan to volunteer for two weeks with Cross Cultural Solutions. This trip has been on my radar for quite some time but owing to time pressure and monetary constraints, I have been constantly postponing it until now. About a month back, I was researching for something on the internet and one thing led to another, and before I even realised it, I had searched every nook and corner of the site for a suitable volunteer opportunity.

I was specifically searching for something in Latin America and Costa Rica – one of my bucket list countries, was thus a no-brainer for me there. The CCS website has plenty of information about what to expect, costs, risks, schedules and a whole lot of other things. So, zeroing on a decision became much more easier for me. Also, this NYTimes article about the organisation and volunteer travel eased me into my final decision of going to Cartago.

I’ve already booked my place with the initial deposit of £150 to the organisation. I will soon be receiving my starter kit with more information about the trip. I will be there from the 11th of December to the 24th of December. Pity that I’ll be travelling half way around the globe on Christmas Day but one can’t have everything served on a golden platter.

Over the coming months and weeks, I shall be updating this space continuously with more news of my upcoming travel.

Stay tuned.

Seventh Heaven

Sometimes there is nothing to write about… absolutely nothing… I am sitting here with a firm intention to write, but nothing is coming out. Blogger’s block.

What to write? About my day today?

Nothing special… Woke up late… skipped breakfast… ‘Worked’ my ass off… sat/slept through 3 hours of Conference Call with an American client… skipped lunch… left work early… battled thousand others to catch the DLR and the Tube… got trapped in labyrinth of armpits and sweaty/smelly bodies…  gormandised on delicious Brazilian food… Drank two pints of San Miguel… played ‘Who can be quiet the longest’… lost it, of course within a second… got hooked to a song from FB… massacred/ slashed some Borgia soldiers in Assassin’s Creed Brotherhood… got scolded for that by the sweetheart… got addicted to the song from FB… trying to write this telegraphic post.

Eventful day… huh!!

There are some days when you are high, just high… high on life… nothing can dampen your spirits… Lately, I am experiencing a lot of these days… perhaps it is because of the weather, which by London standards has been absolutely God send or perhaps, after more than two years now, I am again becoming myself again… maybe I am coming to terms with life in general… But whatever it is, I am on seventh heaven now…

I am so happy today that I have used three dots everywhere instead of one… Strange!!!

and I am still addicted to the song… Dheere Dheere, Naino ko dheere dheere Saibo!!

We are the Champions!! We are the Champions!!

After 28 years, MSD’s Devils in Blue have done in again… We have massacared Australia, Pakistan and Sri Lanka in that order and made the World Cup our own in an absolutely fantabulous manner. Amazing!

And when they dedicated the victory to the Little Master and carried him around the Whankhade in their shoulders, what a fitting tribute to our Tendulkar! We are really proud of you, Team India. Thank You for making us the Champions. Weeee are the Champions!!!

बसंती हवा

I first read Kedarnath  Agarwal’s Basanti Hawa when I was in the 6th grade. At the end of each grade, when it was time to move on to the next, my dad used to get me all these new books for the next year. Books have always been my favourite and one cannot imagine the joy the sight and smell of those new books used to bring in me.

So, engulfed in my boundless excitement, when I first laid my eyes on Basanti Hawa, my mind was just blown off its socket by the beauty of its verses. In English, the title means, “Spring Breeze” and the poem is exactly that.  In it, the naughty breeze is describing its delinquent behaviour but with the innocence of a child – carefree and nonchalant.   The serenity of its flow and the simplicity of its character never fails to mesmerise and enthral me… I always find myself day dreaming about some sunny distant land with open skies and  greenery everywhere. A light spring breeze gently touching my hair and cheek… the sound of nature all around… Heaven… !! I know this poem by heart and I am sure many people do. So, enjoy…

हवा हूँ, हवा मै

बसंती हवा हूँ.

सुनो बात मेरी -
अनोखी हवा हूँ.
बड़ी बावली हूँ,
बड़ी मस्तमौला.
नहीं कुछ फिकर है,
बड़ी ही निडर हूँ.
जिधर चाहती हूँ,
उधर घुमती हूँ,
मुसाफिर अजब मै.

न घर-बार मेरा,
न उददेश्य मेरा,
न इच्छा किसी की,
न आशा किसी की,
न प्रेमी, न दुश्मन,
जिधर चाहती हूँ,
उधर घुमती हूँ.
हवा हूँ, हवा मै,
बसंती हवा हूँ.

जहाँ से चली मै,
जहाँ को गयी मै -
शहर, गॉव, बस्ती,
नदी, रेत, निर्जन,
हरे खेत, पोखर,
झुलाती चली मै,
झूमती चली मै,
हवा हूँ, हवा मै,
बसंती हवा हूँ.

चढ़ी खेत महुआ,
थपाथप मचाया,
गिरी धम्म से फिर,
चढ़ी आम ऊपर,
उसे भी न झकोरा,
किया कान में ‘कू’,
उतरकर भगी मै,
हरे खेत पहुची -
वहां, गेहुओ में
लहर खूब मारी.

पहर दो पहर क्या,
अनेको पहर तक,
इसी में रही मै.
खड़ी देख अलसी
लिए शीश कलसी,
मुझे खूब सूझी -
हिलाया झुलाया,
गिरी पर न कलसी.
इसी हार को पा,
हिलाई न सरसों,
झुलाई न सरसों,
हवा हूँ, हवा मै,
बसंती हवा हूँ.

मुझे देखते ही,
अरहरी लजाई,
मनाया-बनाया,
न मानी, न मानी;
उसे भी न छोड़ा -
पथिक आ रहा था,
उसी पर धकेला;
हंसी ज़ोर से मै,
हंसी सब दिशाएं,
हँसे लहलहाते
हरे खेत सारे,
हंसी चमचमाती
भरी धुप प्यारी;
बसंती हवा मै
हंसी सृष्टि सारी.
हवा हूँ, हवा मै
बसंती हवा हूँ.

- केदारनाथ अग्रवाल

My Twitter tweets

• invented some dish today… no idea what… need a name now… #
• Running after ‘#perfection’ is futile. It is a myth. Imperfection is all there is… It is beautiful… Even the earth is not a sphere… #
• The girl next door has baked a cake… #
• Doesn’t matter #howudropit … What matters is how u pick it up again… Craazy #philosophical talk. #
• For some reason, not enjoying the moment. Sorry for being like that. I want a Mac too!!!! #
• Roz khud ko dukhi karta hun, par aab tak akal nahi aaye… #

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My Twitter tweets

• My alarm clocks are fed up of me… and i have 3 of them… the room is a hive of negative energy. #toomuchwork #
• A day of goal setting with my manager: project 1, project 2, training 1…10… Now personal goal: Loose some flab… not impossible, ehh!! #
• Thanks #Automattic for Akismet… It was down for just 5 hours and My #blog got massively spammed ~ #
• 0830 – 1900: On-site logged in. 2000 – 2330: Remotely logged in. 2400 – 0700: Switched off. #toomuchwork #
• At smollensky’s after a long long time. Feels great. #

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Tati's Monsieur Hulot

This here is a portrait of Monsieur Hulot, the quintessential example of the simple but socially inept man who is always at odds with the rapidly changing World and its contemporary inheritances. Monsieur Hulot is, you can say, the French version of our own Mr. Bean, albeit a generation older.

This much loved character was created and brought to life by the comic actor/director Jacques Tatischeff, better know as simply Tati. Tati is perhaps the most talented director you have never heard of. He directed just 6 feature films throughout his career, but left a lasting impression dipped in comedy and humour through his portrayal of Hulot – the raincoat clad, umbrella carrying and pipe smoking gentleman with a confused and quixotic way to life.

Tati was recently brought back into the public imagination by the animated film L’Illusionniste, which shows him as a struggling magician fighting with dwindling popularity, severe economic problem and his platonic affection for a little girl. The superbly animated and stunningly beautiful film is tender and simple and it strokes the heart with a gentle touch that can put a smile on anybody’s face. Here is the trailer for the film:

This portrait of Tati as Monsieur Hulot is taken from his Academy Award winning film, Mon Oncle (1958). Black and Grey charcoal was used to make the portrait on a hard grained paper. I was utterly fascinated by the expression on Tati’s face in this portrait. It is as if his confusion with the rampant consumerism and technological innovation has manifested itself in utter disgust for these things. This disgust has in essence given him an air of superiority around him – a look so familiar on the faces of our elders, who reminisce about the good old days and look down upon all the things the modern world has to offer. It is the same expression and is so beautifully portrayed by the great Tati.

My tribute to the great Tatischeff.

My Twitter tweets

• My butt is hurting from overexposure to my office chair. #toomuchwork #
• Why is my jaw hurting? Weird #

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The knot in the scarf

This one here is taken from a dress Phoebe from Friends wore in one of the 236 episodes. I was so mesmerised by this that I didn’t even hear what she was saying in the dialogue. I was taken aback by the simplicity of the strokes and the many meanings the picture conveys by using just the lines. The slight smile that the woman has says that she is happy and contented. Her closed eyes give us the impression that the contentment is due to some nice little memory she is re-living. She could easily be some random woman sitting right next to you in the Tube or the bus or she could be some high class socialite sitting in her multi-million quid bungalow. Whatever be the case, she is happy and that’s what matters the most.

I have drawn it using a Permanent Market on a fine grained heavyweight paper.

Behind the Curtain

In Muslim countries many women practice the custom of hijab (حجا) or in other words, the custom of modest dressing. The word comes from the Arabic word he-zjab, which literally means cover or curtain. The custom is to dress modestly in public in such a manner so as to cover everything except the face and hands.

I am not an expert in this field but in his book Islam: The Straight Path, John L. Esposito mentions that the Holy Qur’an says nothing about veiling and seclusion of women. Instead, this practice of hijab was picked up by the early Islamic societies due to the socio-cultural situations of the land. But, over the ages, the mullahs have interpreted the meaning in crooked manner and concocted new rules and regulation pertaining to the hijab. In their hands, the instrument of modest dressing has unfortunately become a symbol of oppression and inequality.

The area in East London where I live and work has a large number of people who belong to the Muslim faith. I see a lot of women – young and old – in their hijabs going to work or shopping or doing other things in public everyday. I look at their eyes and wonder what lies behind them – what lies behind the curtain?

I did this sketch of a woman in burka (a more strict form of hijab) using charcoal and pencil sometime back. To tell you the truth, I have stared long and hard into those eyes, and came back with absolutely nothing. But, the more I look, the more I realise that inside, deep down, they are just like you and me, leading relatively interesting lives and suffering through the daily grind. We all are the same, the only thing that separates us from them is a thin veil – a thin curtain. What lies beneath that is another you, staring right at you from behind the curtain.