the 'lost' generation

First it was the bandh. Then the curfew. Now it is the class boycott. You begin to worry about the kids caught in the mess that is Manipur.

The other day i called up home and ema told me my little cousin was getting 'crazy' staying at home as schools were closed due to the ongoing class boycott. It seems they have even banned private tuitions. Now what is left is for them to ban kids from opening their books and studying. They might as well do that. What do they stand to gain by disrupting education?

When will this madness end? You fear to think of what will happen to the new generation that has been deprived of a normal childhood. i am reminded of the question my little niece asked me when she came to visit us. Seeing that there was no load shedding, she asked 'How come you have light every day?' Such an innocent question but it broke my heart to think that even a basic necessity of a modern world is denied to them. She used to think it was diwali everyday seeing the shops so brightly illuminated. How sad is that?

As much as a traitor i feel, i have no desire to go back. Which does not mean i do not miss it. Maybe i love and miss it so much that i do not want to go back and have the memories of the place i grew up sullied by all that is happening.

of puja and bhog and other things

Durga puja is around the corner. So i asked him whether they have any puja celebration out here, what with the large indian community living here. He said we would have to find out. i told him that the bhog they serve during puja is delicious. He was like 'and i thought you wanted to go to pray and all you are interested is the food'. Maybe he thought i had mended my 'wayward' ways and was becoming religious! Not in this lifetime.

We watched 'Year One' - Jack Black is such a funny guy. Gross and funny. It was good in bits and pieces.

Had some guests over for lunch. i am not fond of entertaining unless it is people close to me. But domestic life rules that you should shed your 'unsocial' attitude and try to be as genial as possible sometimes. Being a vain person, i made sure the food was cooked by me - because i am always wary of others' cooking skills! - and that i put in my best efforts. Even though i may pretend i don't care, but compliments about my cooking always please me no end! Which i got in plenty. Oh, i am so good a cook.

And what is it with people who proclaims their inability to cook or perform a domestic chore as if it was something to be proud of? i mean, what is to be so proud of not having ever stitched/mended something ever in your life? Is it to hint that you are so rich and pampered that you never had to lift a finger? As if i would care.

chandrabindu's bathroom

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This is a hilarious song from Chandrabindu.

Reminds me of the times at school when we tried to go to the bathroom every other period. We used to enjoy the walk to the bathroom, peeping into other classrooms and chit-chatting in the bathroom rather than attend non-urgent nature's call. i once told my teacher i would have to 'do' it in the classroom when she refused to let me go because i had gone too many times that day!! No wonder that i was always the teacher's pet!!!

ghore pherar gaan

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i was introduced to Mohiner Ghoraguli by K with whom i share the love of Ghulam Ali's ghazals and bengali bands. This song is beautiful. Ghore pherar gaan (roughly translated as 'the song of returning home').

ami gai
ghore pherar gaan
utola keno ei pran
shudhu je dake
phire amake
bidesh bibhui-e pore achhi
tobu chhare na keno chhare na
pichhutan
ami tai
ekhono klantihin
cholechi ratridin
shuni chomke
jai thomke
kotha hote jeno bheshe ashe
sur chena khub chena
mono majhe amolin

phirbo bole phera jae naki
periyechho desh kal janona ki, ei shomoy?
ekhono shamne poth hata baki
chaileo dite parbe na faaki, nishchoy

It opens the wound of staying away from home - you miss it so much but still, you choose to stay away lured by things which, in the end, would not matter. And so i am in exile - voluntary exile. But the pain is the same.

". . . You will leave everything you love most:
this is the arrow that the bow of exile
shoots first. You will know how salty
another's bread tastes and how hard it
is to ascend and descend
another's stairs . . ."
--Dante's the divine comedy

view from the bedroom window

The view from the bedroom window. Makes me want to sprout wings and fly. But cannot gather enough feathers to weave myself wings.