Cato

I had a passion of going out on a bicycle trip, early in the morning, even before the light was out in the sky.

I used to pedal for at-least an hour, watch the sun rise and return home. That morning I was about to open the gate of our home when I heard a strange sound. A constant mewling in a very timid voice, I thought that it was a bird but then I realized it was coming from the drain. I went to that place and saw a tiny kitten in the drain, hardly a fistful. I picked up a plastic packet and brought it out and took it inside.

I placed it in a bird cage and gave it a good wash. I was surprised to hear a strange hissing sound from the cage and realized that the kitten was threatening me. It was a hilarious thing to watch it trying to scare me.

I gave it some milk and biscuits and later he was set free. He instantly became Misha, my spitz’s friend. A funny relationship which lasted till the last day he stayed with us. She was a very sweet tempered creature and he was an imp. A bundle of mischief. He loved to pounce on her and play with her. Sometimes he used to tangle his claws in her fur and hang like a monkey from her neck.

But he was not that lucky with the Doberman and the pet monkey which my older sibling had at that time. The Doberman used to often catch him and take him to her den and chew him up. He used to walk out of her den all slobbered up and furious.

The monkey whenever he was able to catch him used to clutch him to himself for hours like children hug soft toys.

His only soft targets were Misha and myself. He just loved pouncing on us and causing us almost a heart attack by the shock.

Though I knew all the while that tom cats never stay still I missed him a lot when he vanished.

Misha

Some creatures walk into our lives, become a dear part of it and leave their marks all over it. She was that type of being.

I still remember when we brought her home in 1989. She was hardly a fistful. Bred by a pet shop owner for only money. She had her body full of lice and worms which we could not get rid of, though we tried every thing. Starting from veterinary to ayurvedic. All failed.

She stayed with us for next eleven years before she succumbed to the monstrous heat of Rajasthan in 2000.

She knew how to win hearts. She was a love hungry soul and no one in the house was able to resist her for long. Though a lot of them tried.

Her final victory was my mother. She was the only canine my mother petted. Ever since I have been able to store memories I have recollection of dogs and my mother’s immense allergy for them.

Misha became obsessed her very quickly. To my mom’s fury (though she was never able to catch her red pawed) she used to climb on her bed. Sit at her feet, sleep under her bed in the night.

During her last one year she was honored by my mother’s quite frequent petting.

She taught me a few very serious lessons.

Love is usually irresistible.

She taught me to walk cautiously, before bringing her home I used to take two steps at a time, and she had a irksome habit of sprawling right where your first step will fall. It was really extremely embarrassing to step down and hear her howl. So I started to tiptoe.

She controlled my temper a lot. She was impossible, so when I failed in molding her I molded myself.

She somehow completed my personality in more than one ways.

Blacky

He was my sibling’s pet Alsatian. His owner was a very possessive and abusive person; As a result he was a thoroughly abused dog who selected me as his owner till the last day of his very short life. .His death was a mystery.

He was one intelligent dog. And one of the most sophisticated dogs I have ever seen. Its funny but he ignored his owner and obeyed me. He used to spend all his day (and preferably nights) in my rooms. Sprawling like a king, not even moving a paw to give us a place to walk. It was his room and he allowed us to use it was his attitude.

He was roaming spirit, whenever he found the main gate open or loose he used to loose free in the street. People used to panic. No one will love a full grown Alsatian roaming around in the street without a chain and an owner. And it was almost always me who had to run after him screaming like silly. He was gracious enough to listen to it.

At that time I was staying at home and my brother used to commute to Kolkata from there. He used to return at night and leave in the morning. We used to take blacky’s food along with ours.

Whenever my brother used to stay in Kolkata (without notice) he used to wait eagerly for the dinner, as I used to skip it myself I used to forget him in the earlier days. Then I changed the pattern after seeing his hungry, pleading eyes one too many times. I used to feed him his dinner the moment his true owners retired and then keep the rest for us.

I still remember those pleading eyes on that black face, whenever I forgot to feed him the dinner.

He once scared the living day light out of me. He was my shadow. So he used to follow me to the roof, my favourite place. There is a pattern in our roof’s walls. The patterns of playing cards. He once stuck his head in the heart shaped hole. And I thought he will die there, stuck. Then he taught me the trick of getting his silly head out of there. For I struggled for more than an hour when I suddenly found out the trick. He was so shameless that he used to do it again and again.

Its really fun to have a dog around.

Two Birds

There was a time when I fed puffed rice to a bunch of squirrels. These tiny creatures were a lot of fun. I truly loved feeding them.

 

It started out of pity and soon became an enchanting habit. They used to wait for me or my brother to give them food. They ignored the rest of the people of the household. The very moment they saw any one of us two coming out to the verandah they used to inform us of their hunger by scurrying down from the trees. Ignoring them resulted in their invading our rooms.

 

While feeding them two birds became my bravest guests. A doyel and a water bird, we call them pankouri in Bengali. These are small, black coloured birds with long legs and they eat fishes and water insects or creatures. This bird’s courage was beyond words. I used two rooms. The room attached to verandah was my bedroom and the inner room was my kitchen. If his (or her) food was not served on time he used to invade my inner room, after crossing the outer room. It was amusing, touching and a little scary. Human beings should never be trusted that much.

 

The second one was a piece of courage too. I love gardening, I am not even a mediocre gardener but I love to work in garden. So I used to spend hours in garden, tilling the soil  or cleaning of weeds, he used to be my almost constant companion, sitting squarely a few inches apart from me, waiting eagerly for any insect to jump out of the weeds or ground.

 

Wherever I go, whatever I do I will never forget these two birds.

Summer

I am almost nonchalant about summer. As long as the power cuts are not driving me crazy. I don’t get much exasperated by heat. If I can stay away from roads of Kolkata and its buses I can happily suffer summer.

 

To me summer means my childhood days, the strict instructions from adults to not venture out in sun, to avoid sunstroke. We just waited for mom to fall asleep, and then were out in the garden. Sometimes stuffing ourselves with pickles, tamarinds or fruits from trees and sometimes running barefoot on the burning pavement to catch the kulfiwala.. the ice-cream man.

 

Summer noon in UP meant absolute silence, it was so hot that even birds did not made sound, sometimes a crow cawed breaking the silence, that’s all. The only sound we could hear in those three or four hours was the bells of the kulfiwala, braving the summer sun for livelihood.

 

The summer of west Bengal is romantic if you live in a small town, with trees and birds around you. People take a siesta because the humidity makes them drowsy. The noon are silent, all you will hear is birds calling. The doves calling their mates in a sleepy tone or crows and bulbuls calling out. In Toto it’s a dreamy atmosphere. To be felt from the very depth of heart.

Monsoon

I was born in UP and lived outside West Bengal for the first sixteen years of my life. Mostly in UP and Delhi, places which don’t have much rain fall. There rain is fun, joy and very quick affair, it pours and stops.

 

I shifted to the greenest district of West Bengal. Burdwan district is the greenest district of west Bengal and its greenery is a feast for eyes. It can be relished to its utmost if one travels in some local train from Kolkata to burdwan, a thing which I have done for years and it was awesome. To see those fields of luscious green paddy stretched on both sides is a heavenly feeling.

 

My home had a garden in frontage, quite a big one, with trees and shrubs of all size and shape. Before joining a job going out in rain is an optional matter, so I relished monsoon or rain fall for quite a long span of time. It was a real joy to watch rain pouring down on the trees and bushes, cleaning them up and leaving them sparkling.

 

When the rain was over the drops of water still sparkled on the leaves and bushes, just like small drops of pearl.

 

Rain is a really enjoyable thing if it lasts for a reasonable time-span and you don’t have to go out in it. Or the clogged water of street drains doesn’t enter your house. The greatest agony of a huge proportion of Kolkata residents.

Pets

Ever since my childhood I have had pets at my home. Of all types and species I guess, except reptiles and illegal ones. Name them, and we had them cow, birds, cats, monkey, cats, dogs, fishes, rabbits.

 

If you have a spacious house and someone to care for them pets can be great thing. But one should never have pets unless one really cares about them and is capable of taking care of them.

 

My cherished ones were a spitz Misha, a cat Cato, budgerigars and rabbits. Though I have voluntarily taken care of the pets of other family members but these four were my pet ones.

 

Misha was a very important part of my life. She needs special description so I will just leave her with saying that my family members used to call her my daughter.

 

Cato, I rescued  him from drain, he became a darling part of my life. Then just like tomcats he left us. He later came back once or twice but was scared of us then and did not stay. It was a great fun to have him around.

 

The budgerigars were very cute but I was happy when they broke free.

 

The rabbits were the cutest pets I guess. We bought a pair and soon our home had quite an ample number of their offspring. They dug their own holes in the garden and lived there. But we had to keep an eye on them, the moment we realized that the mother was pregnant we had to trick her to the cage so she could have her babies there safely. The first time she had her babies in the hole was horrible. It was lucky that we saw them in the drain, red ants have attacked those tiny things before their eyes were opened, we had to pull those ants out and place them in the cage with their mother. After that we kept a watch that she does not bring forth her babies in the hole. It was a great joy to see those tiny bundles of fur.

 

I really think that every spacious household which can spare some time should have some pet. They make our lives complete.

Caged Birds

I really don’t like caged birds. I have once bought a cage full of budgerigars and after that I decided I will never keep a bird in cage.

 

Budgerigars are fabulous looking birds, they look like miniature parrots with different colour, completely different from parrots, their main colours are white, sky blue, turmeric yellow, lemon yellow and green. They have to be kept in cages which will give them a little place to fly, if you hang some appropriate earthen pots inside their cages they breed in captivity.

 

I have kept their cage in a verandah attached to our kitchen, which descended on the courtyard. Flocks of parrots always came to my home, always trying to build their nests in the mammoth sized drain pipes which released the rain water from roof.

 

It really was tormenting to see the budgerigars clinging to the net and crying in response to their cries. I was really happy when they flew away one by one (of course without my knowledge) after breaking the net of their cage by their sharp beaks. I never bought birds again.

This winter

This year winter has visited us quite graciously. Winter happens to be my favourite season, all time favourite seasons.

Courtsey blogging, my friends are not scattered all over the world. its funny, how a thing which is awesome in one part of world is a nuisance in another.

It was snowing a lot in US around Christmas, I gushed about it to a friend of US and he immediately pointed out the misery attached to snow fall - shovelling.

His comment brought back a memory of my own, I hate kolkata monsoon, a few months back a blogger from Arizona was surprised that I am so much allergetic to rain. :)

Well, for the winter, I am keeping my fingers crossed that she will stay a little longer with us. :) She is no nuisance in Kolkata, she is an adorable visitor, who often forgets to visit us.

Unnecessary violence

I am on a movie watching spree lately. I  have been watching a lot of movies without being censored before. That is, earlier it was a habit of mine that my brother used to watch movies and tell me which are suitable for my weak heart. Violent movies have an adverse effect on me. A very strong adverse effect. I get very moved by music, literature and visual media I believe.

 

I was recently watching a movie, thinking that it was horror then I finally realized it was not. It was horrible. A young pair of lovers being chased by a group of mentally deranged persons through out the night in their summer house and finally getting butchered. Now, being a normal human being that’s not exactly the type of movie I will love to watch. Its okay if ghosts kill one or two human beings after chasing them all night but the same thing becomes repulsive when human beings do that without any reason but “fun” or cannibalism -  I watched a movie in that a family was lost in desert and eaten up by a gang of cannibals I fell sick after watching that movie it was so gory and violent.

 

What is the purpose of making these movies? To trigger violence or make people like me fall sick if they accidentally watch it?

Cacophony

I believe every horror or suspense movie addict will share my misery. The hero/heroine is walking through dangerous alleys, darkness surrounds her, our breath stops… suddenly our heart leaps sky high, just misses the ceiling by an inch. Not because a horrible thing leapt out of darkness, but because of a shrill background music of horrible composition.

You will feel that your heart will simply explode. Then you will scramble for the mouse to turn down the volume before angry neighbours start to curse you in their heart because it’s late at night and you love to watch horror movies late at night.

 

I love a good horror, thriller, sci-fi and suspense movie that is why I notice this thing so keenly. Fortunately I watch them from home, in computer so I keep my hand on the mouse to choke that sudden blare of cacophony. I pity those who have to go through that blast in auditoriums.

 

Horror or suspense works best without background music. Because then you are completely in dark about what is in the director’s mind.

Rain man

Its one of the cutest movies I have ever seen. A spoilt young man comes to know from his father’s will that he has given away all his money to a trust. He finds out that the whole money is given to his autistic elder brother through that trust.

 

He goes there, plots a plan that he will either win his custody or force the lawyers to pay him half  his father’s property. He coaxes Raymond, his elder brother to go away with him. Thus starts a journey, ending in Raymond’s winning love of his brother.

 

In the end Raymond had to return to the asylum because he was too sensitive to live in real world but he transforms his brother completely. He becomes a loving and caring person from a self centered, sometimes mean guy.

 

It’s a worth watching movie, a truly heart warming movie full of beauty of human soul.

Maupassant

I have always admired Maupassant, ever since I read his story “The necklace” in my early childhood (translation).

 

I was gifted a compilation of his short stories a decade ago and have been reading it since then, I believe I have already read it more than a dozen times, finished it a fortnight back and am eager to start it all over again.

 

My admiration for him has shot up ever since I have started to write myself. I don’t call myself a writer, I just love to write. M y only alibi is its better to write something than watch movies to kill time. It  keeps the brain active and improves one’s linguistic expertise.

 

Back to Maupassant, if any one asks me to crown my favourite short story writer, I will simply place my crown at his feet. He is a magician. With limited words he can stir any soul which is open. Make them a better person.

 

The more I read his works the more I become mesmerized, how easily and expertly he touches the very soul and illuminates them.

 

His stories are full of human compassion (not for very conservative persons, I should humbly warn).

To kill a mocking bird

This is another movie which recently moved me. Its an old movie starring Gregory Peck. I really admire this guy. Have been his fan since long, well I guess most of the women of my generation are big fans of this guy. I have rarely seen such a combination of sophistication, good acting and dazzling looks.

This story really stirred my soul. Reminded me how sometimes we hate others without any reason at all. It’s the story of a black farm labourer who was falsely accused by a white woman, and even the law took her side…. Knowing all the while that she was lying.

We all have done it, but its better to get rid of this feeling of hating fellow human beings as soon as possible, unless they have performed something really heinous, and are caught red handed doing so..

We should try not to occupy the judge’s throne unless its must.

Rang de basanti

I am not much of a hindi movie viewer. I very humbly admit it. for two reasons mainly, number one mushy love stories in various packages bore me to death and second reason is boring story lines, bad acting, direction and editing acts as sleeping pill for me.

Since time immemorial all my indian, hindi speaking friends have been bugging me to watch this movie, I ignored them. then the only critic I believe told me to watch it (must) and I did.

I have rarely seen such a powerful movie by an Indian. I have always liked Amir Khan’s new avatar since lagaan and have loved his taare zameen pe. There are some bolly actors I sometimes watch he, ajay devgan and rahul bose are top among them.

This movie was really something. It reminded me (very strongly) of all the sacrifices made by the freedom fighters for us, which we are reaping now

And it subtly told me another thing.. just saying that the world is corrupted doesnot works.. get up and pick up the broom.

The direction of this movie was fabulous so were all the actors..

rabindrasangit

Music in my eyes is the most beautiful creation of human souls. It reveals every emotion of human being..love, anger, hatred, adoration, affection… no human feeling or passion is untouched by this.

Rabindranath tagore is most probably the expert of exploring human emotions through songs. I have not heard another single person with such a splendour of talent.

I have listened to rabindrasangit for years, his music can mould your thoughts to purity. Whatever he touches becomes pure.. love, nature and devotion.

With his magical grip on pen he wrote song after song covering every emotion of human beart. The miraculous part was his choice of magical tunes for his songs. They fitted in perfectly. They enhanced the beauty of his already fabulous poems to the level of heavenly.

He was born amongst and surrounded with people of extraordinary talent. Who helped him in creating tunes for his songs but he always was a part of it, so it was his taste which reflects in all of them.

Whenever I listen to rabindrasangit this is the thing which overwhelms me, how can an artist be so perfect. Not only that, the singers whom he handpicked and trained to sing his songs are the most beautiful singers I have ever heard.. kanika banerjee, shantideb ghosh.. as if he left his soul in them.

Tagore left a magical legacy for us, who can understand his thoughts and lose ourselves in his music.

Kazi Nazrul Islam

Kazi Nazrul Islam(1898-1976):

Kazi Nazrul Islam was born on the 25th May 1898 at Churulia in the district of Burdwan, West Bengal, India.
The poet died at Dhaka, capital of Bangladesh as National poet on the 29th August 1976.

Well, during my growing age I did not liked his poetry, because I thought that he mixed urdu, farsi words freely with sanskrit and bengali words. Now, he is my second favourite poet after tagore.

When I listen to his poems my eyes moisten just to think how the divide between hindu and muslim has been created in india in post independence era. Here is a kazi, who married a brahmin widow and writes that I will sing a song of krishna sitting in the laps of mother goddess kali. His poems are a strong blending of hindu and muslim cultures and his noble soul.

I have a collection of his recitations and I just love them one and all, I have listened to them atleast five hundred times and wont mind listening another five hundred times. There are some recitations I cant resist myself from repeating end to end. May be someday I will translate and share them so you can understand the meaning but what about the magic which he created by blending of urdu and sanskrit?

bankimchandra

Not a very popular writer, if we count by the number of people who read his works and will admit anonymously that they love his work (people often call him their favourite in fear of being looked down upon).

I have picked up some odd writers because of my mother, who was an avid reader and had a uncommon taste. Bankimchandra is one of them. She just loved his works and so do I.

He was more like shakespeare, picking up the most exquisite words and painting a picture out of them. He was truly the emperor of classic bengali language.

I often feel awe struck, how could he use such exquisite word yet create fantastic novels and immemorable characters. Characters so real, like kundanandini or kapalkundala. Bhramar, Indira or Suryamukhi. Kapalkundala is my favourite character in fiction world.

The immense strength of character which this lady had I have never seen another lady with such strength of character. She embodied truth and honesty. Her fearless honesty is awe inspiring for any woman.

Just like I will never forget anandamath, durgeshnandini or bishabriksha… such fantastic usage of language yet such immemorable characters.

books

Well, I am one of those blessed creatures who was born in a family of bookworms.. who was surrounded by books instead of toys and expensive clothes.

A family where money was spent on books and true education, not on material luxury.

I have read all types of books .. actually devoured them. starting from cheap thrillers to writers like maxim gorky. No, I don’t read any thing but fiction.. I am not a serious reader. I have read non fiction only in school, college and other spheres of study.

Books are the best friend any human being can have, all he/she will have to do is select the type of book which will help him or her to reach his destination.

I will simply love to share some of the writers and books I have been touched by. I cant put my finger on a particular writer and say he/she is my favourite.. actually I cant even pin point half a dozen of them as my favourites..

movies, music, books

Intellectual people often look down upon movies, religious people look down upon all three of them. But being an indian and obsessed with all these three things.. oblivious of their language or origin I know, we can extract nectar from a lot of them.

The nectar of wisdom, humanity and other things.. including love of God. I will share my thoughts on movies, music and books which have moved me during these years..