Habi jabi....

Its a May afternoon turning to evening, its hot humid and unpleasant. And since yesterday i've been worried. I just finished reading Lord Of The Rings and now i don't have any other books to carry me thru the remaining 1 and a half month, or so it seems. I have to locate a good book as soon as possible or else i'll be blowing up more and more on our internet usage hourse and blog-hop incessantly as i've been doing all day long.

---------------------------------
Doesn't look like it'll rain today evening. The welcome kalboishakhi has become even more elusive. Last movie i saw was Bose The Forgotten Hero. Wasn't too bad, but wasn't that great either. But it was good to visit Nandan again. Everytime i go there somehow my faith is restored in the whole bangaliana thingy. Yes antel...yes yes i know.... rave and rant as you may but i think its nice that even today theres attachment people (bangalis) feel to the place. That's the surest sign that alls still well. And i'd rather have it that way. Anyways all things apart its a good place to go to with friends. Also doubles up as good place to sooth tired and thirsty eyes.

----------------------------------
Deja vu is an amazing thing. Today, while i was having doi-mach for lunch, the aamer-chaatni sent me into one of those deja-vu moments. The taste was exactly like the kaacha (unripe) mangoes we'd cut up, mix with oil, salt and dry in the sun to eat later on. It was way back when as a kid i'd stay in the IIMC campus, and had a lot of other friends. Summer vacations for us would be stealing mangoes from the million and one trees on campus. We'd sneak around and steal them. Then they'd be distributed amongst all of us. Most of it would be eaten up there and then. But at times i'd save up some and take it home. And then i'd cut it up, add salt, oil and leave it in the sun as instructed by dad. But the problem was i could never sit through this whole drying process; i'd sit beside the bowl with all the mango pieces in them and keep staring at them as if my glare would speed up the process. And intermittently while the process of glaring and drying was underway i'd eat up a few pieces just to taste and check how they were coming along. And before long it was all over.

----------------------------------
Well if you have the patience to read my last post , don't mistake me to be some sports journalist or something. I'm no way close to anything like that. I was so taken up emotionally by the match that i couldn't help myself. It was mostly out of an immense admiration for Steven Gerrard that grew exponentially through the match that i wrote the whole thing. Oh and yesterday i saw another emotinally draining incident. It was the European Grand Prix, Nurburgring. Kimi Raikonnen, my favourite over the last few GP's crashed out in the LAST lap!!! How dissapointing could that be. The front-right suspension had picked up some damage from a run into a chicane and kept vibrating like crazy. It was going to bust anytime but the cruelty of it all was that it happened in the last lap. And Kimi the race leader for 90% of the race couldn't even finish the race.

Now that is what i call sad.

Champions League Final, Ataturk Stadium, Istanbul, Turkey...

No I wasn't there. I wasn't even closeby. Rather, like the majority of the people in the world i was cozying up in my couch, far far from the action that shook even my small drawing room. I have never seen such an amazing match in a looong looong while!

Liverpool vs AC Milan. It was a no-brainer right from the word go! AC Milan the thoroughbreads in European Cup Championships. 7 time champions pitted against a side which fared as only the 5th best team in the EPL, disallowed to even compete in the next years Champions League. The 50th European Cup Championships begun at 12 a.m. local time.

Even before you'd have settled in to your seats the scoresheets sang. Maldini at the ripe age of 36 years put Milan into the lead latching onto a free-kick directing it to the goal. Dudek had little chance, his sight gaurded by his defense and the Milan forwards as the ball suddenly appeared from behind the crowd of men in the "D" to hit the net. All this in the FIRST minute of the match! The blow was sure to fall but so soon I did not imagine.

Slowly but steadily as the 1st half kept growing, it became more and more clear. Milan were surely in their element. They defended successfully and managed to attack successfully too. While Liverpool could neither attack nor defend successfully. The difference seemed HUGE. Liver pool's man-to man marking was poor and the porous defense let in Andriy Shevchenko, European Player Of The Year, too many times for their own good. By 45 minutes to the horror of the Red fans, the scoreboard read Milan-3, Liverpool-0. It was pretty much over.

And then came the resurrection. Such a comeback, a Champions League Final has never witnessed in my lifetime. Within minutes of the second half, almost as if it were gift, Steven Gerrard jumped up from amidst a crowd of Milan defenders UNCHALLENGED (!), to head a ball floating in across the Milan goal, a cross from Riise. At that range a header from Gerrard is impossible for any goal-keeper. And the ball rightly found the net. The Reds were euphoric. Suddenly the clogged arteries loosened, the blood flowed easy now, the colour was back!

As if suddenly buyoed by new spirit and life Liverpool were transformed. Riding on a high from a goal by their inspirational captain Gerrard, their attack seemed more lethal now. A loose ball found Vladmir Smicer feet, well far from the goal, Smicer unleashed a canon of his feet. The ball keeping low bore down into Milans goal through a crowd of defenders and forwards, into the right corner of Dida's fortress. The Liverpool lads were on song. The Liverpool forwards worked over time, the score was still 3-2. And in the raids that followed Gerrard suddenly found himself right in front of the goal mouth with none other than Dida to beat. But before he could seal the comeback Gattuso pulled him down. The penalty was awarded. And even here drama did not desert. Alonso fired into the bottom left corner of the goal only to have the 6 feet 6 inches keeper, Dida block the shot. The bounced back out, in that heart wrenching moment Alonso could have only breathed fire as he rushed in lashing the rebounding ball back into the goal. The comeback was complete. Within 15 minutes Liverpool had laid to rest the ghosts that would have haunted them forever.

From then on the match was pretty evenly balanced out with both a distraught Milan, and a euphoric but cautious Liverpool, taking unsuccessful atempts at each others goals. The match went into extra time and went forward without much event even after 15 minutes each a half of extra time. Penalties was all it was down to. And with the absolutely fidgety and nervy Dudek, Liverpool i believed had the minimum of chances.

Since fate decides everything, it was something no one could have prevented. In the most unorthodox show of goal-keeping i saw Dudek triumph over Dida. His spiritual dance before each of Milans penalties seemed to unnerve the penalty takers enough. Serginho shot the ball way over the goal. Pirlo and Shevchenko of all people missed to end a most memorable Champions League final in Liverpools favour.

love in space...

Joe Satriani played to audiences here in Cal. yesterday 15th May, and it was breathtaking. I didn't have a ticket all right, but i was determined that i'd go and atleast feel the guys presence. I called Bishwayon and it was his idea that even if we were outside we'd definitely be able to hear him. The trademark dreamy light sequences mixed with magical tunes on his guitar completed the evening of magic. I guess there's nothing more you can do with a guitar than the stuff he can. If theres complete harmony between any two things, then its gotta be Joe Sat and his guitar.

It was heavenly sitting there listening to him play. He played Summer Song, some stuff from Crystal Planet, Rubina... Watching somone LIVE, infact to the same music which you hear on the computer is a mindblowing experience. The very thought that the guy you swoon to after getting a little tipsy is actually out there in front of playing the stuff he plays best....is a killer one.

summer time bluz...

My urge to write has outrun my ideas. Just can't think of ANYthing. Well am enjoying a much deserved layoff from college. In the middle (rather not quite yet) of the blistering summers which only a tropical country resident can identify with. Yes Calcuta is bad enough. But, hell, never had so much of "peace" in mah life. You know these kind of vacations are rare to come by. You wake up late, breakfast is ready. Watch TV until noon, have lunch, surf the net, sleep, TV, dinner, read'in(to) sleep. And the whole process repeats itself. The sequence needs changing for a bit of variety. The thing that sustains you is that you keep making plans of doing something useful and worthwhile and daydreaming about how worthwhile it shall be, keeps you ticking.

Yes it could be called an absolute waste of time. I often feel that. Its kind of a paradoxical thing. You want to take time out and relax, and when you do that you feel like you could actually use the free time and do something useful. Hobbies I guess are the things that plug this gap. Things that you do in your free time= hobbies.

My house is like almost on a beach considering the amount of breeze that blows almost every summer evening. Its so lovely! Cold breeze on a summers evening is nearest thing to a heavenly experience anyone can get.

Well I’m planning a trip to the hills. It’s the time for my annual yearly pilgrimage: summer vacations. Was planning on the Sandakphu but people advised me against it since apparently rains there during this time of the year. That and the other deterrent being the lack of a travel mate has probably put off the Sandakphu trek for good. I mean I have my friends who’re along with me also participate in this annual ritual. But they aren’t into trekking, and well a 3 day (!!) trek… hell no way! So instead I was looking for alternative destinations and I think I’ve found a few. West Sikkim seems to be very promising, right at the base of Kanchenjongha: Yuksom and Pelling are the places. Though I’d rather prefer Yuksom. It’s further off and more remote.

Mountains are my favourite destinations because they’re (I believe) more mysterious. You can easily get lost on a mountain, you can explore for your own by taking the next dirt path running up the side of the hill. You walk along the path and come across a small gumpha. Or some villagers hut. Or some local kids playing, and they’d ask you about the plains and about Shah Rukh Khan’s latest movie.

Beaches are only fun as long as you don’t get bored of bathing in the waters. And after that the fun’s over, yes you may go shop and get yourself some souvenirs, like those made of shells and stuff at the evening bazaar on the beach that’s lit up with hissing gas lights.

This is the way things are holding up at present. Hope they don’t change much.

stay peaceful...

That happened to be a piece of advice i'd given a person who consumed all my thoughts for a certain period of my lifetime. Miniscule but a certain non-zero, positive amount of time in my lifetime.

Peace: that ever elusive ever sought after and delusional thing. Once you have it, you go bored. And when you don't have it, its the only thing you can think of.

Yesterday the weather was strange. Yes cool breeze along with lightning brought much needed relief in the early evening, but as night came along the cool breeze wasn't cool anymore. There was an overhanging sense of gloom encompassing everything. Like on of those impregnable claustrophobic silences.

Wonderwall is such a lovely song. I'm listening to it right now. Its like this mantra. The song is like a chant with music interspersed. Its singable and nice. The vocals aren't difficult so i can do it pretty decently. And theres always this thing about songs you can do decently. They make your list of favourites rightaway, as if on a wildcard entry.

I'm stranded in death week with not much in favour of me. My exams are something like 5-6 days off and i still am not in the groove. I still haven't gotten absorbed by my books in totallity. I'm going crazy and frustrated about it. It's always very irritating when you know you have to study and you can't and you know that you just HAVE to. I WASted time like anything yesterday. Slept through the morning, watched a movie in the afty and then slept again. Then i fell in love with the heroine- Perizaad Zorabian. She's driven me nuts too many times now. Evening i did some decent mugga but now again i'm back here on blogspot.com doing crap!

Lets cut loose now.( And oh i think i've found a me gal!...;-) )

Kshitij 05

The stuff that follows is the way i felt after Kshitij 2005 got over. Its been quite sometime since. But today i was suddenly into deja vu mode. Exactly at 9 p.m. i realized how i miss the urgency to hurry to the Gymkhana for meetings. And how we'd go there, get bored and curse our heads. How until the fest had come (atleast for us first-timers), it was such a lot of anticipation. We had NO idea how its like when the fest begins running. At times we'd express our impatience. But once it began it was like a dream, and before we got time to pause and take a few breaths i was walking back from something that was over. Something that signalled the end of a very intense and deep chapter of my life. Now all we have is some photographs and that is all...

I walked a very lonesome walk back from Vikramshila right now. Its 4 a..m. in the morning, it’s a foggy winters night. Yes I know it’s stupid to get sentimental. But I’m no machine. It was the lst time I did something, and the last time I’ll ever do it. I feel sad. It’s like losing the force that drove you for such a long while. You feel weightless and lost, you float around for a while.

I remember EVERYTHING, right from the moments of some company confirming the sponsorship deal, to losing out on a big sponsor, to the first batch of participants arriving, doing decoration work, getting on top of the stalls to fix the Kshitij logos, sleeping in the arena. The memories are still afresh. Yes they will fade with time, but I know for sure that these have been the best moments of my life. Something so much more greater than the regular life I live. And I’m sure its been the same for everyone. I know I’ve been very helpful many times. But so’s everyone. Working in a team, where you know everyone’s worked they’re asses off is a privilege. Most importantly the feeling that you know that you’re not the only one giving EVERY ounce of yourself for the fest, everyone on the team is doing just the same, is overwhelming.

The arena looked absolutely empty last night. Everybody had left, it was all over. Over the past six months we worked with all our hearts for the fest. Over the past six months I made new friends, got to know new people and found some to be amazing. Hope I never lose touch with them, hope we keep in touch and remain together. “that which we are, we are; One equal temper of heroic hearts…”

Building the fest is just one small aspect of the whole thing, the fest is gone just as it HAD to. I guess we all knew it but never thought in that line. But to me all the other things count very much and if anything else I don’t want to lose all that.

on a breezy summers evening...

Strolling on my terrace on a windy summers evening is deja vu in such a big way. Its been so long since i've been here. Home has never been the same again, neither has Cal unaltered. So much has changed. Once upon a time this was HOME. Everything was here, my whole world centered here. Now after moving out its like you've been divided between two places. One world is college and friends and the other is a shrunken one with home and half kept friendships.

Theres so much thats happened in the months that've passed since i last blogged. Yes i finally convinced myself that Rai is over and done with. I can't and shall never dig up the ugly past that concerns her. I realized how difficult it is to find a sane female in life. And i succumbed to the insurmountable barrier of the 116 km.s that separate home and college. I realized that as long as i'm there i possibly can never have a relationship with the typical JU-Presi types in Cal. They require too much time and attention. And they, having extremely short attention spans, require constant prodding. And if you lose speed for even a nano-second they're onto someone else.

Other than that, this weekend we had our Kshitij grand treat. Came down frm Kgp in a bus to Cal. All 32 of us. Aquatica and then BAR-B-Q on Park Street, followed by chocolate sundaes at One-Step-Up, tonga rides by Victoria and an evening walk on the maidan. It was the perfect day. By evening i got philosophical and sento and Vishal and i begun indulging in antellectual talk. I realized that theres so much good food in this world and yet it isn't all so different. I realized that when you have all the money to buy you everything around, it gets boring.

Bangalis you will see suffer amazing transformations. They are very capable at morphing from a political genius to a poet, and from a hopeless romantic to an ardent football fan. All it takes is that cha at the para'r cha-er dokan or a glimpse of ppl playing ball on the maidan or it may take an open starlit sky or cool breeze on a summer evening. I myslef suffer from the same ailment and tho maybe the catalysts triggereing the transformations are different the final products are absolutely same.

....Summer's coming up and with 2.5 months of free time on my hands i've worried myself to death about what to do. I decided i'll try and earn some money. Do some job, anything that'll increase my bank balance. Atleast a new experience in my kitty and maybe a new kindled interest too. Yes i'm also banking on the summer to find me a sane gal in this huge metropolis of lunatics. Joe Satriani is coming to town on the 15th of May, but i don't know how to go about arranging for a ticket. I think i shall have to shelve my plans for a trip to the mountains this time round, though since all of these are plans all of these risk falling through. And i hope, godwilling it will turn out to be a good summer.

-well thats all i guess....

Morrison night!

The mood tonight is “The Doors”, I’ve been listening to Morrison for the last two hours continuous. Manzarek’s hypnotic organ casts magic.

There’s no way to escape the spell.

There’s no way to escape from hell!

The music’s gotten to me…and so’ve the lyrics…the music is your special friend/ until THE END!

The face in the mirror won't stop,

The girl in the window won't drop,

A feast of friends--

"Alive!" she cried,

Waiting for me

Outside!

Before I sink

Into the big sleep,

I want to hear the scream

of the butterfly.

Come back, baby

Back into my arm.

We're getting tired of hanging around,

Waiting around

with our heads to the ground.

I hear a very gentle sound.

What have they done to the earth?

What have they done to our fair sister?

Ravaged and plundered

and ripped her and bit her

Stuck her with knives

in the side of the dawn

and tied her with fences

and dragged her down.

I hear a very gentle sound,

With your ear down to the ground--

We want the world and we want it

Now!

Okay since we’re in the mood for it let me describe the best high I’ve ever gotten:

My head felt like a crystal ball filled with smoke, floating in front of me, my body was suspended horizontally in deep dark black space. There were these metallic sounds ringing in my ears. Heat pulses raced from deep within the core to the outer most extremes of my self…right to the tips of my fingers, the end of my hair... I was awash with psychedelic lights. There was a tingling sensation swamping all my body. Only when I opened my eyes did I come back to reality. I saw the ceiling…the doors, the walls, the table at my feet: everything was still, the night was quiet. The trees outside were bathed in moonlight. And then I closed my eyes. My head swooned and the psychedelic lights were back.

I still remember our first night at Dharamsala, we’d just ordered dinner. It was quite late, around 11 p.m. Arko, Bish and I were talking when I heard some familiar music playing somewhere. Took the beer mug and walked outside through the back door. It was the unmistakable organ of Manzarek hypnotising me with “Light My Fire”.

The beer had already made me a little tipsy…and I felt light headed. Beer mug in one hand, fag in the other, I let myself be hypnotized by …GOD! And something that a whole lot of people will agree to is: with the alcohol exercising its effect my senses got amplified and I’ve never appreciated Morrison as much I did that night.

What a welcome that was!

….later

why this obsession with music which can be appreciated more under the influence of dope and booze. Why is Morrison god? Yes his lyrics and music are worth dying for, but why this obsession with the unworldly experience. Is the question rhetorical?

“Show me the way to the next whiskey bar

Oh don’t ask why,

Oh don’t ask why,

Show me the way to the next whiskey bar

Oh don’t ask why,

Oh don’t ask why,

For if we don’t find our way to the next whiskey bar

I tell you we must die…”

Morrison was obsessed with chaos, with disorder, destruction. A revolt was beautiful, disharmony was harmonious! It’s damn attractive. Infact we still live a good healthy part of our lives trying to realize that dream of becoming the ultimate junkies. The ones Kerouac talked of in “The Subterraneans”. It is said whatever Morrison did on stage was natural because it was under the influence of dope. Other stage performers fake everything. They do whatever they do because the audience wants to see it. Morrison did whatever he had sold his soul.

The thought that Morrison was introduced to rock music by his friends at UCLA is SO deep! Imagine if that’d not happened.