Controversy Opens Here

Read a piece of news that said Muslims in India have issued a fatwa against the National Song because it calls us to worship the country. Even with some amount of patriotism, I think I understand their point, you know. Why would anyone go against the tenets of one’s religion, something that one follows in every manner possible, to go worship something else? Even if it is the country we are talking about. And why just Muslims? What about Parsis, Sikhs, Arya Samajis and all those people who do not worship anything but one being?

In fact, Muslims are the only people I know who follow their religion so well. How many of us Hindus have been inside a temple in the last five years? How many of us Christians have lit the candle on Sunday? But all the Muslims I know have done their Ramzan and read the Quran. So if religion is so important to them, why would they want to go against it and worship the country? Perfectly justified, I think.

And come to think of it, I do not think the national anthem is that great either. Ok, I do feel very nice when it’s being sung, and I insist on people standing in attention for it, but the song was meant to be an ode to the English king, for Christ’s sake !! And the words in it are so bloody obsolete…Sindh is not even a part of India, even if we do have Sindhis here, and Orissa is Orissa, not Utkal any more. Bengal is West Bengal, not Bango. And seen one way, it too calls for blessings from the country…taba shubha ashish maage…which is again not in keeping with the vast population following Islam in this country. Couldn’t we have something neutral…something that all of us can sing without it being a bone of contention for anyone…something lie Saare Jahaan Se Achha…?

What do you think?

Paroma’s Tag

I was tagged a few days back for this!!

ONE day after my birthday the party mood kicks in.

TWO countries D is visiting and I’ grateful I am not: Vietnam and Thailand.

THREE weeks before I go home to Ma’s cooking, New Market and heavy quilts.

FOUR things I love in my closet: Jeans, a tiny little skirt, sexy lingerie and pyjamas

FIVE malai pedas today and I am bloody stuffed !!

SIX people I am cooking for tomorrow.

SEVEN days of the week we go out for a short ride somewhere, or to the beach.

EIGHT legged freaks think of my home as a bloody orphanage. Spiders appear everywhere I look !!

NINE is the number of empty bottles of alcohol I see right now in front of me. Darn, I need to throw them away real quick.

TEN hours of sleep every day. Minimum. Anything less leaves me cranky, anything above is welcome.

Ronojoy, your turn.

And Paroma, Happy Birthday to you darling. I am so glad I know you. You have really been wonderful.

Thank You !!

It was a rather nice birthday this year. D went to work and I spent the day taking calls and answering online messages. In the evening G and S realized I was spending the day all by myself with D being stuck at work till midnight at least and came over with a lovely cake. It was, as you see, a yummy Black Forest.

Cut it a tiny bit for the guys and then when they left I was chopping up vegetables for dinner when the bell rang and I opened the door to see D standing there, grinning, with lovely roses and a chocolate. Quite a surprise, but worked out fine because his boss thought his priority for the day should be me and not the all-important work he had to finish.

So we finished all the chocolate, got ready and went for a spin around the beach. Got back from there, went to a nice new restaurant here called Urban Dhaba where we had some lovely scotch to end the day. I am all puritanical about scotch and don’t believe in using any soda with it, but I wanted to be ok for the booze already at home so I mixed the teensiest bit of soda, and I can’t even begin to tell you how amazing it was. Had dinner with some hard roti and Gosht Rara, which is basically mutton cooked in a lot of onion, and I think yogurt. It was rather ok I think.

But all said and done, I have been thinking of saying a very personal thank you to all the people who remembered and who took time out to wish me. Being on social networking sites is a good thing you know, because of the sheer number of birthday wishes you get. I am going to name all the people here, so see if you can find your name.

Thank you Baba, ma, dada, boudi, D, Baba, Mamin, Hriju, Teesta, Sandy, Kitty, July, N-Kakima, K, Mani, Shantanu, Aditi, Pooja, Nylon Vimal, Arindam, Aritro, Navin, Ajay, Gautam, Shambhavi, Surajit, Rajeev, Somda, Shakun, Aditya, Tutul, Roshan, Lina, Asish, Subha, Sreerupa, Manishankar, Dutta, Vrinda, Soma, Priyanka- B,  Priyanka – U, Dimple di, Milton, Sunanda, Patralekha di, Shini, Meghna, Sanjeeb, Ballari, Prithwisha, Angana, Moitree, Tanmoy, Priyanka R-C, Gargi, Paromita G, Arunabha, Sreerupa, Anwesha, Avishek, Drikpriya, Sana, Ronojoy, Sejuti, Sureeta, Abhishikta, Moutushi, Sayan Sir, Didi, Matt, Jyothi, Gavi, Shouvik, Purbita (the only person I say same to you to when she wishes me, and not thank you – so glad to share the birthday with a fantastic person like you), Tua, Satarupa, Sreetama, Koyel, Rituparna, Paramita – N, Smita, Sana, Swati, Neil, Shalini, Paroma, Debo, Anupa, Goa on Wheels team, Ayantika, Paromita – D, Sangeeta, Sourav, Mityl Di, Tariq, Indraneil, Rajyasree, Rohini, Kabya, Sujoy, SD, Varina, Snehal, Dharitri, Soni, Medha. I am not sure if I am missing some here. If I am, apologies. But the wishes meant a lot to me and really made my day. Thank you so much people.

So, birthday pretty much over, have a friends’ party coming up tomorrow. We’ll see how that goes, shall we?

Such Is Senility !!

Hah, this is really funny and even I am laughing at myself.

See, I told you tomorrow’s my birthday? So, I have never really had a birthday party because one, we could not afford it, an two, because my father always had to go to work and I would never have a party without him at home. There was always lots of food though.

So this year, I just thought of throwing myself a party. I took a good look around the house and decided where the Happy Brthday banner and the balloons and streamers will go. I looked up party recipes on the net to make a great punch and a cake, and some appetizers before the previously planned beef stir fy, Singapore noodles and Priyanka’s chicken with sesame and red pepper. I was even looking at how to make personalized party favours and party hats for all of my five guests !! Can you believe the utter boredom in my life this evening?!! Or for that matter the utter frustration at not being able to spend a better evening by myself.  I mean, man, I have completely lost it, and it is not even my big day yet.

But I am a fully-fledged adult so I shall refrain from making an utter fool of myself and shelve the ideas till D’s birthday in 19 days from now.

Laugh all you will, because I am laughing too.

My Birthday’s Tomorrow

So tomorrow’s my birthday. Quite something, huh, considering how old I am about to become tomorrow.

You know I have never thought very nicely about my birthday ever. Because it was always at the end of the month when everyone, including my parents, my brother, my friend, my husband, my landlord, everyone, is out of money and waiting for the next salary before they can buy me something. So I never really received too many birthday gifts. Ok, I’d be lying if I said that there were never any gifts, because of course there were, but you know, a birthday gift doesn’t feel like a birthday gift unless you get it on your birthday. And it’s worse when people ask me what I want, because most often I want a nicely pink Sony Vaio or a nicely white Fiat Linea, or even an all expenses paid trip to Italy, but I can’t say that. I mean, how difficult can it be to pick out a gift for me? I love flowers, I love Mills and Boons, I love shoes, I love clothes, I love chocolate browinies, I love nicely big pillows and nicely framed pictures, I love nice crockery…so get me one of those rather than ask me what I want !!

Another thing I hated about my birthday is that it was always on a weekday. So everyone went to work or school and no one had any time to celebrate with me. Even this year D will be working on his stupid report and I will be sitting alone at home, with the laptop, playing Farmville on FB. My father has always sung to me over the phone because he was away on duty. My brother alway sent me a text message and my nephew always had homework to finish before you could talk to me. My friends were always at work or away, so no one ever had any time to come home and have a party with me, or even go out for dinner with me.

Anyway, so tomorrow’s the birthday and I am gifting myself something. It’s a new year for me, right, a new life? So I thought I shall make another desperate attempt to give up the last remnants of the fondness I still have for cigarette smoking. It’s like cutting the last thread that bound us together, but it’s ok. I have had my fair share of it and all the people around me, concerned for me, deserve some sort of respect. So there.

And all you people, leave a note to wish me. It will mean a lot. I’ll let y’all know how it went. 

Pliss to Note…

…that I have chosen to take a break from blogging. Nothing gives me a reason or an idea to write, and nothing take away the feeling of being in the dumps. Things are suddenly not terribly nice. So I shall not write till I at least find some semblance of peace or at least something to write about. I don’t know, it could be a day or a week or a month. I don’t know how long it will be before I can get back to this blog again. On the surface, everything is fine. May be it has to do with my birthday coming up and making me aware of how much time I am losing every moment. May be it has to do the deception everywhere. May be it has to do with something I cannot put a finger on. Doesn’t matter, because I hope to find a way out of this soon.

Be good till then.

Diwali Update and the Indibloggers Meet

The festival of good over evil and all that completely flipped over in Goa. We had just been out for a night-long Narkasur rendezvous when we heard about the blast at Margao. You know, it is amazing how news travels. Before any TV channel got to know we were discussing the chances of another blast in Panjim and got back home to a night-long rendezvous with alcohol. Drank till nearly all of us passed out and then had some more. Happy Diwali to you too folks

And then woke up in time, pushed all the grogginess away and turned up for the Indiblogger’s meet 30 km away from home at Vasco. What a meet, guys. First you get invited to the first ever such meet in Goa, and then when you are there, no one turns up. There was no communication of the meet being cancelled or held elsewhere, so we waited for a good forty fucking minutes, got strange glares from people who thought of us as last night’s bike bursting culprits and then got lost in Vasco. I mean, if this is the commitment the organizer of the meet and a group like Indiblogger shows, I am happy being on my own. So much for getting to know other bloggers in Goa.

So there, no photos, no big news (except the blast perhaps), no excitement and no Diwali firecrackers around. Verdict: if the alcohol wasn’t there last night, this Diwali would be the biggest dud ever. Really.

Bang Bang !! And Boom Boom !!

Life in Goa is suddenly eventful.

There is a serial killer on the loose here, killing people, mostly women, every twelve hours, stuffing them in plastic bags after charring the faces. And I am scared. Three murders in my area alone, and my windows don’t even have grills to protect me. Worse, came to know about this bloke after my father called to warn me against going to our favourite places that are dark and lonely after 7 pm. And just so you are wondering, that’s like the half of Goa. So with Narkasur night today, we can only wonder where he will strike next.

Yeah, today is Narkasur night. Remember the pictures I had uploaded once of this cutural treat? It’s that time of the year again when we spend half the night looking at the monsters and then come back home to get drunk. More people throng the roads tonight than in Christmas or Ganesh Chaturthi and it is a mad rush to get to the best vantage point for photography. But people in Goa can barely celebrate Diwali you know. There are few lights, no candles and no firecrackers that make you feel like it is Diwali. They are still stuck with the stupid rockets and fountains and pinwheels that we Bengalis graduated from by the time we were 12. No bombs people !! No sound, no excitement !! No worship too, and therefore none of the amazing food we get in Calcutta on a night like this. All they do is light little lanterns like this, see the Narkasur floats and then retire home for a quiet drink and chicken tandoori, muchly like us here. I miss Calcutta. I miss getting together with everyone and lighting candles and then moving on to firecrackers…

And yes, unlike people who think Diwali is a festival of lights only, I completely think diwali is about the firecrackers as well. That is how I have seen it for the last 20 something years. And there are people who agree, for what else will explain the huge sale of firecrackers around this day? But with a husband that hates the way crackers “disturb their peace and are a nuisance” I guess that part of my life is effectively over.

But anyway, here’s wishing y’all a very happy Diwali. Have fun, be safe, and keep those kids safe. Me, pray I do not become the next victim of that deranged serial killer tonight, or any night.

Boom !!

Hriju…

I have always used my blog to speak my mind and heart, and if today I choose to bring out something from the deepest corner of my heart, would you not indulge me? This will do nothing about my likability factor, and in fact will perhaps drag me down some notches, but I really need to get it out of my system.

It’s the way I have treated my nephew. Today he is a smart little boy, but I cannot look him in the eye for the way I have been with him. I feel ashamed and guilty and I do not think I owe anyone else a greater apology. I will explain.

Eight years ago when he was born, I was seeing someone. At that age, the relationship had meant everything. On the day H was born, I did not go to see him at the hospital. I knew no one would be at home so I could call my boyfriend without a care. I made some excuse about studies and stayed back and spent a long time with him over the phone, thinking not once of the little baby born to my brother and his wife, the one we had grown to love over the past nine months. I saw H much later, and I was smitten that day. I promised myself never to sideline him again, and the god that you worship must have smiled at that in his high heavens. Because I failed, miserably.

H looked like an angel and when he was growing up I began loving him to pieces. I took numerous photos of him, played with him, slipped my finger into his fists and slept beside him. I did all I could. Then one day I saw how Ma was pampering him, and something inside told me that in spite of loving him so much I must discipline him too. I hit him and locked him in the dark bathroom for the slightest naughtiness even as he screamed out and wept out his fear. Everyone told me to let go, to stop, but I did not listen. On occasions when he hit me or hurt me accidentally, he got petrified and ran around the house, trying to look for refuge. I chased him, dragged him out from under the bed and hit him till he turned blue, never once thinking it was such a little boy I was hitting so hard. I was so cruel back then, but he loved me, and I know I loved him back.

Then K was born. She was born too soon and never recieved the awe that the first born gets. That made me side with her and I took away H’s childhood. At two, I saw him as a big brother who had to give up, share, understand, make way. Or be punished. I did not see that I was moving away H from my my heart, and even today I am ashamed to say that I have always loved K more than H. is that because K was more manageable? But if H wasn’t, who is to blame but myself? For the utter trauma that I have caused him.

He is too young now to understand what I am talking about, and I do not know if I can ever apologise to him with him understanding it. But I wish I could turn back time and go back to those days when he was two years old and give him back the right to be naughty, the right to be a child. I wish I could silence the screams and weeping that still haunt me sometimes. I wish i could get rid of the guilt and stop crying each time I think about those days. But I know I can never give back to him what I had taken from him then, or take back from him what I had given him, and it kills me. And meaningless as it is, I am sorry.

Barack Obama gets the Nobel Peace Prize !!

Pussycat, pussycat, where have you been?

I’ve been to Sweden to kiss the queen

Pussycat, pussycat, what did you there?

I got the Nobel Prize to keep beside my chair.

Pussycat, pussycat, what will you now do?

I’ll go to China and suck up to Hu.

That my dears, is pretty much what Barack Obama, lord and master of the world is doing these days. He is taking Nobel Peace prizes and refusing to meet the Dalai Lama in spite of escalated human rights violations in Tibet and pacifying his Chinese counterpart. Because unlike Ortega and Chavez, the Dalai Lama could spell trouble in his efforts to suck up to the Chinese leadership. But of course, he played it safe for the sake of peace.

He is also taking Peace prizes even as he sends 17,000 additional troops to Afghanistan “to secure the election” and admitted somewhere that the troops are just “air raiding villages and killing people”. And the Nobel Peace Prize Committee is convinced that “his extraordinary efforts to strengthen international diplomacy and cooperation between peoples,” is worth a recognition. We are convinced too, Mr. Obama.

On the other hand, there is such uproar about Michelle Obama’s slave roots. To think that we were the only ones obsessed with scheduled castes, tribes and other backward classes and in general whence people came. I am impressed with how much newsprint and electronic space is being used up for Lady Peace Prize here. Or perhaps they will award her the Nobel for a whole new category now, which they will call the Rags to Riches prize. When it is about the Americans, everything is possible, eh?

Hail Obama. Hail America. Hail Peace !!