Mahalaya

1500 kilometers from home, some Bengali youths gathered on the fourth floor of the Academic Building of their University at 0400 hours on 15th October 2012. They came in varied attires and night clothes, some yawning, some rubbing their eyes, but all of them intent and excited, for one thing. That one thing was the elocution of Mahalaya.

They didn't have the authenticity of the Akashbani live telecast of the Mahalaya programme. All they had was pure devotion, to the tradition of beginning the best time of a Bengali life - Durga Puja.

For those unfamiliar with the concept of Mahalaya, it is the day when Maa Durga defeated the evil Mahishasur, restoring the world to peace and prosperity. Seven days from this day, the epitome of the good over evil will be worshiped. It is also the homecoming of the victorious, and us mortals rejoice in it to extents a non-Bengali cannot ever comprehend. Maa Durga is not just a deity who defeated evil for us, she is our very own mother and beloved daughter at the same time. The entire battle of Maa Durga and Mahishasur has been retold many times, but this particular rendition by Birendrakrishna Bhadra and his team is aired on the radio every year for all. It is an unwritten custom for many of us that we listen to it religiously, because if not anything, it is a beautiful form of elocution art.

Durga Puja has always been an integral part of my life, like all other Bengalis. This year, away from home, I feel the significance all the more. I can hardly wait to go back. Puja is not just a time for worship and prayer, it is also the time when families get together, friends re-unite and everybody is offered a piece of happiness. 

Every year, Puja brings new hopes. Hopes of conquering evil. Hopes of regaining lost strength. Hopes of a better day. Every year, Maa Durga saves us from the lurking demons -  ones we encounter every day, on the road, in our workplaces, in our homes, inside ourselves.

This year, Mahalaya not only sets off the homecoming for Maa Durga, it marks the homecoming for me too. I'm going home. 

Love and...

Here's my take on the mother of all cliches -

Love is like flying a kite. Sometimes you get cut.

Love is like flying a kite. If you catch the right wind, you can soar to heights you never thought you could.

Love is like flying a kite. It's no fun if there's no distance between the kite and the flier.

Love is like flying a kite. If you pull the string too taut, it breaks.

Love is like flying a kite. It doesn't cost much.

Love is like flying a kite. Even if you don't have your own kite, it is still a happy sight.

Love is like flying a kite. You need practice to get it right.

Love is like flying a kite. It can leave you totally breathless.

Kaleidoscope

Kaleidoscopes have always fascinated me. They are so simple, yet so beautiful. When I was a kid, I spent hours on end just rotating the cardboard tube and looking at all the myriad designs forming inside the cone. I think I still have one back at home. I wonder who invented these.

I like to think of my life as a kaleidoscope. It's made of a lot of ordinary simple things, but it's still beautiful.

The friends who are so weird that you can't live without them.

My family which is the reason I'm this crazy.

The roads I've walked, drove and passed.

The college that ground the brains out of me.

The skeezes who made me realize my own worth.

The poems I read but never understood, only my skin was left in goose-pimples.

The fairs I've been to and got lost.

The cats I cuddled on the road.

The last benches we carved our names on.

The wallets I lost, and lost more than money.

The best friend I found in my boyfriend.

The scars on my legs when I was learning to cycle.

The tears I wept that nobody knows about.

The burps that scandalize but also amuse my buds.

The flowers I picked from a far away hillside and pressed between books.

The autumn sky with clean white cotton clouds.

The smell of a brand new book in a musty store.

The vapours of a plate of warm khichdi on a rainy afternoon.

The old house with vines growing on its walls that I once called home.

The wind that blew tiny leaves in my face and hair.

The forks of lightning I viewed from an open terrace.

The make-believe stories I played out.

The reality which had once become make-belief.

The dates that went bad.

The movies that made me laugh and cry and swear.

The times I loved and lost, but learnt to love again.
  

To all those bits that make up my kaleidoscope every day -

Just Like That

Yesterday was my 22nd birthday. It passed just like that. Being twenty two doesn't feel any different from being twenty one. I don't feel any older, smarter or stronger. It wasn't a landmark point of my life.

It's funny how such dated days never brought any real significance to me. As for my birthdays, that one day in the year that's all, legitimately and irrevocably mine, they just seem to pass away like every other day. I wouldn't say they pass badly, but if you were to make a graph with a time line of a week before and a few days after, there wouldn't be a hike nor a dip in the line parallel to the Y-axis.

I don't remember having parties for my birthdays. There wasn't cake or candles or friends or food. Neither did many people wish me. I felt happy distributing sweetmeats to classmates in school and that was about it. If there's anything that Facebook has done good, it's its birthday reminder that makes some 99 odd people wish me on my wall.

In comparison to all that, this year 1st October was nice, if not anything else. Some of my friends did call me up at twelve to wish me. My boyfriend sent me a really beautiful e-card and posted a picture of a cake on my wall. We also skyped after ages. It was sweet. My best friend, also known as Methodist of Madness and a number of my hostel mates hugged me and stuff. We watched The Hangover II which probably wasn't a great idea, because that movie is freaky! The morning and afternoon were drab because the university campus was closed due to a Telengana strike. However then we got The Pirates of the Caribbean marathon started and things started to look up. The day ended with "happy birthday" sung by me best friends with two slices of cake and a candle. My other two best friends actually cooked for me! Cheese sandwich and scrambled eggs! No one's ever done that for me! I was overwhelmed.

And I was happy, just like that.

Independence

I've known a lot of clingy people. Sometimes, it cannot be helped because it's in there very nature. They are like creepers, they cannot survive without a support. There's nothing wrong with asking for help, but it is the whiny clingers that I can't handle.

These clingers will refuse to believe in independence as a good thing. They want you to accompany them everywhere: shopping, travelling, business and even the loo. 

However, it is the ones who can't think for themselves that lack the real independence. These people are so shallow that you probably couldn't drown a fly in them. Very easily influenced, these people are. Also they will take rash choices and make the worst kind of blunders, leaving you and me to get them back into shape. It's kind of difficult to explain this kind of intellectual bondage or superficiality. All these people will care about are clothes and shoes and looks, about how they look, about how to heckle others for attention and about what people think of them. They are incapable of thinking beyond the mundane existence. In fact, I feel they are incapable of any kind of independent thought whatsoever. They cannot even decide what they want to order at a restaurant. 

I really cannot understand this. How can you be like that? How can you not know what you want? How can you not understand what you feel abut a certain issue? I'm sure if you give it enough thought yourself, something will come out of it. May be these people are afraid of thinking alone. They are afraid of the consequences of their independent action, stemming from their independent thoughts. 

Being independent has nothing to do with having a lot of money, power and good looks. It's about the courage to think for yourself. It's about the courage to take your own decisions. It's about making your own choices. It's about the courage to be yourself, honestly, simply, with all your talents and shortcomings and qualities and flaws.

I consider myself independent in this context, do you?