Things people do ...........

With the vague intention of keeping my other blog insulated from all things considered frivolous I post this here :


A pretty girl waits for a bus at the depot. After waiting for some relevant announcement regarding the allotment of the bus (which does not happen) she approaches the depot-office and not unexpectedly draws a blank. Meanwhile a young chap eyeing the beauty for a while now approaches her and inquires about the bus. She, with all the politeness of a stilettoed waitress, says she is as clueless as the rest of the people. In a few minutes the loudspeaker announces the bus which is to be boarded. The girl moves a few paces towards the allotted bus when compelled by some curious quirk she decides to turn back, arc her shoulder most nonchalantly to beckon 'that young chap' with a gesture that would rob the saccharine of all sweetness. The average onlooker should have been forgiven for suspecting some prior porichoy amongst the two at this juncture. I suspect even the unsuspecting chappy for a moment decided to believe in the existence of such an invisible link and indulge in some harmless 'suspension of disbelief'. A careful cricket commentator who knows how the cookie crumbles in such situations might have said, " It looks a promising start......... but then upsets are never too far away at times like these." He just walked in a trance towards the bus. But, good Mobil and torn upholstery in state-run buses are useful ingredients to shake one out of any trance and under their heady influence he took a seat diagonal to the pretty lady in question. As soon as the bus started moving the very possibility of some fat, middle-aged bugger getting his 'lucky ride' this afternoon made the chappy act quickly. With startling alacrity he lunged onto the seat besides the girl. The girl already having engaged herself in the now national obsession of listening-to-FM-on-mobile-phone-while-travelling seemed a little surprised at first, later easing herself to the reassuring fact about 'lamps and flies'.


4 stoppages later the Gods cried "Action!" and action there was.

The smart chappy in an attempt to launch a charm-offensive of sorts decided to buy Ma'am a ticket ( not even waiting to ask where she would get off) while Ma'am was busy switching FM stations. Unaware of such an abrupt benevolence coming from unexpected quarters, when she herself wanted to buy a ticket she threw a fit. With a sudden deluge of Hindi and English which bordered on the fact that "Strangers don't buy strangers bus-tickets" the chappy woke up to the realisation that he didn't follow any of what was being said. With all sheepishness of a sheep in disguise of a man he only pleaded with his eyes and his outstretched hand ( that had the 10 rupee offered to him) that pretty-girl would take this as a gesture of good-will. But the weak-willed can never hope to garner any good-will. He had to relent in the face of relentless appeals by Miss Pretty-face.



All paona-gonda settled, the two looked at ease with the world, unaware of the curious onlookers travelling with them while I was having a hearty laugh (albeit muffled) at the fate of the failed advance.

Things people do to woo .

Shuvo Bijoya

......... everybody!!!!

It is Ekadoshi today. As I write this bijoya post, beats of dhak and tunes from banjos rend the air. They mean that the 5 days of festivities and fervid merrymaking are over for the year. They mean that the Goddess will now leave for Kailash and won't be back before another long wait. They mean that it is now time for bhashaan and mishtimukh and kolakauli.


The pandals which grappled with jostling mobs till a few hours back now look decrepit relics of themselves. Slowly as the banners are pulled down and the decorators' people climb up to dismantle laboriously put together structures people will go back to their 'normal' lives and face the mundane, but, with a renewed zeal. That is what festivals are essentially meant for - Taking a break for making fresh attempts.


I would rather not rant about ( or describe in vivid details) my travels/travails of the last few days. In short, Nobomi and Doshomi were very hectic affairs, the result being that I can now proudly say that I hardly missed a notable pujo this year. Give or take, hopped around a hundred or more pandals, spent a fortune ( by my fortune's standard in the first place i.e) in the last 5 days, a sizeable amount of that on my pet-hate - soft-drinks.


My Ekadoshi was going all well with a Kwality lunch followed by Tutti-Frutis and Banana Spilts till I was forcibly dragged to the evening show of the film - 'Hello'. Except for a few corny lines here and there we couldn't spot anything which was even remotely laughable. Adapted from 'One Night @ Call Center' by Chetan Bhagat it had one of the weakest cast one can dream of. Add to it Atul Agnihotri's fixation with casting Salman Khan and family, howsoever unwarranted it may seem, and you get the picture of how the picture may actually look like - a terrible dud. I could have launched into a review but the lingering festive spirit forbade me from doing such a thing. So, shuvo bijoya Atul Agnihotri.


Shuvo Bijoya, you all.

The Oshtomi Post

Oshtomi brings a certain feel of religiosity to many and I am no exception in this regard. I remember how pushpanjali made for my quota of annual prayers for easy question papers ( and good marks). But now its only the "sobaike bhalo rakho" routine that the elderly follow. One's perspective widens with age, perhaps.


This Oshtomi morning was the usual panjabi-pajama routine in the parar pandal. For the last 7-8 years it has been the only day when I go there for the maiden dorshon of the Debi and that's it. No more ties before or after with the parar pujo. I feel too guilty at times, thinking of those good old days of childhood when the para pujo meant the world and I would not budge an inch from it. The lines, " chhera dhuti apnar dher beshi daam tar

bhikkey kora shartin-er cheye"

rings loud inside my mind sometimes when I weigh if its only the grandeur of the mega-pujos which keeps me hopping from one end of Kolkata to another or is it the simple fact that I hardly have any somoboyeshi bondhu (same age-group friends) in the para. The only ones I have, I only meet rarely on my way, going in or coming out of the para and that isn't much to hold me back during pujo.


Anyways, luchi-torkaari is another ritual at home on Oshtomi mornings and as soon as it was done away with I was off. Off with friends to cover the Central parts of Kolkata, the traditionally big-crowd pullers and by Heavens didn't we get to see some crowd! The entire Ganesh Chandra Avenue was swarming with people. Subodh Mullick Square looked more like Brigade Parade Ground on rally-day and once we joined the serpentine queue that seemed to go on forever we felt like microscopic cogs in the giant wheel of human enthusiasm that was so visibly ubiquitous. We joked that when pandal hopping in Central Kolkata all you have to do is join a queue and the queue guides you,there's hardly any effort required from your end.


First stop was Md. Ali Park. They have over the past years attempted the unconventional and come out with the outrageous but this time the theme was clear at least. It was a medley - a mixture of pollution awareness and deforestation that seemed inspired from the Pachauri Nobel initiative. But, the double chinned Shiv overlooking the Goddess was a hilarious hit. We could instantly draw parallels from our circle of knowns. Also the sundered head looked more like Barack Obama's for some inexplicable reason. Some political overtures there.


Next was College Square which figures on every ardent pandal hopper's list due to the sheer visual spectacle it offers after nightfall. Between our slow progress within the sea of humanity I noticed that the tuni-bulb lighting had made way for the power efficient LEDs. Inside, the dazzling sight of the mammoth Jhaarlonthon was breathtaking. Ekdalia Evergreen can't hold a lamp to such an imposing collection of....ummm......lamps. One could just sprain one's neck looking up and getting lost in its splendour.


Santosh Mitra Square was next on the list. It was a 20 minutes walk away which ultimately took more than half an hour because of people getting lost midway. Couple of old friends joined in on our crusade there. The 'Nata Mano' theme based on the Singur fiasco had attracted people by hundreds of thousands and we were now one of them. A locked-out factory does not make for a pleasant sight in times of festivity but reality finds favor with many and no one's complaining. After all its just a theme. The awareness part is just an appendage, a sure-shot crowd-puller.

What followed afterwards was a harrowing walk through the very characteristic narrow lanes of Central Kolkata to the Chandni Chowk Metro Station which took us 20 more minutes. Then there was this Big Debate. The topic 'To be or not be in Maddox Square'. I was very much against it but public opinion ( which started as a whimper and ended as a roar) sealed it for Maddox. My point was, " Why Maddox?" They said, " What else ?". How was I to reply to that without breaking into a discourse which would end up as futile as the Singur initiative, and I for one did not want to end up looking like a statesman Governor with no takers or backers. So we were now at Maddox Square ( yes, again!). The melting pot of pandemonium is always at its manic best on the Oshtomi evening and today was no exception. Newspapers, which are rarely ( if ever) given a first look were being bought from vendors at 2 rupees per double-page (i.e the 1.5 rupee Hindustan Times I did not find time to read in the morning was being sold back to me for 14 rupees in the evening) so that people could spread it out on the ground and sit on them. Silver sand looks bad on branded clothes, I guess. And hence the little precaution.

Anyway, the 8 of us managed to get hold of a good spot and took possession hurriedly. Life would be tolerable with some promise of adda emanating, I thought. Two hours later, when it was time to leave we found to our disappointment every semblance of an eatery struggling to keep order in the wake of imminent riots. We managed to push into a dhaba and got ourselves a reasonable dinner considering the situation. With full stomachs and aching legs we headed home, only to meet tomorrow. To celebrate the beginning of the end of the pujo.


Nobomi can be painful.
Thinking of all those lights, banners and barricades evaporating in just two more days.
All the multitudes of people suddenly vanishing into their secret burrows not to surface for another year.
It can be very painful.
Rather, it is.


I guess one has to be in Kolkata to feel that.
One has to be a Bangali.

The Shoptomi Post

Shoptomi was already half over when I crept out of bed. I was supposed to meet friends at Tollygunj Metro at 4:30 and I was already running late. To top it I also had to prepare 50 Quiz questions which quiz master-Harry would try his neighbors with the next day. It was not before 5:30 that I reached Tolly and saw our usual thek occupied. Though the numbers were mere microscopic as compared to any other day still the chaa-er nesha sorbonasha had attracted quite a handful. My plan to go pandal hopping in Central Kolkata was promptly pulled down almost unanimously. No one wants to end up at the wrong end of a stampede, I guess.


As an alternative Khiddirpore was given serious consideration before it was decided to first visit Maddox - that abiding emblem of the enterprising youth, that annual edifice of 'continual search', that vibrant epicenter of bizarre bedlams. Maddox Square holds a special place in each and every body's memory who has ever lived in Kolkata during the Pujo. In all the 7 years that I have religiously visited this ''shrine of tempting illusions" I have noticed many consistent traits that identify the place. The culture-cauldron where mere 'birdwatching' meets Martian dress-sense, long lost loves find new found likings, old foes meet and hug like friends - it defines in essence what pujo with all its attendant revelries really mean to the Bangaali youth. I have also noticed the gradual change in the crowd composition which with every year becomes more telling. The necklines plunge and the hemlines rise, the outre amaze and the bold inspire awe(and sighs). No wonder the boys are left all excited and edgy, especially the singles who like captive Gauls looking at an elaborate banquet can only drool and curse their luck but never taste the 'boar'. The intellectual adda that once defined Maddox Square has long gone fishing for better suitors and quieter provinces and sadly, it hasn't reported back till date. Instead banners and hoardings advertising mustard oil and vodka crowd the place while the attention-starved Goddess stares in mock surprise (from her centrally 'cornered' scaffold) at her altar, the entry to which has slowly been reduced to an initiation rite into adulthood for the urban youth.

For me it was mostly meeting old friends who always seem to get pulled out of hats on a regular basis when I am at Maddox Square. School, college, tuition. Sometimes, I might find it embarrassing that even after an hour of conversation which merely struggles past the beats of the dhak by a millionth of a decibel you cannot put a name to the face. Now that many of our classmates/batchmates have flown out in search of greener pastures Maddox holds little if any charms for us.


Coming back to Shoptomi, half an hour inside Maddox and a few familiar faces afterwards it was time for a snack. When 10 people ask for kochuri followed by kaalakand and paatisaptaa you don't expect the unexpected. But before we were through the moiraa and all his assistants looked more than hassled. That is what we do to eateries and sweet-shops.We get under their skins.




We then got into two taxis and headed for Khiddirpore. 25 Pally and 74 Pally are the traditional crowd-pullers over there. Guest Passes made for an easy passage into the former. We weren't so lucky on the other front. I reckon 74 Pally has never seen such a long drawn queue in years and we were half tempted to join in but, at the very last moment decided against it. The Soshti pangs were still fresh with us and any excess stress tonight would mean missing Oshtomi Anjali the next morning which no one wanted. The group then got divided into two before dinner. Most opted for Biriyani ( Khidirpore being the heartland of that delicacy) while the three of us went for South Indian fare - Dosa and Uthapams. Amidst vague frameworks for the Oshtomi night-out surfacing among us we boarded taxis and headed home.

Today again promises to be a hectic affair. I have cajoled, hoodwinked, threatened people to go Central-wards tonight. How can pandal hopping be complete without visiting Md. Ali Park and College Square? Also, I have a curious premonition that I might have to give the Behala pujos a miss this year. What a shame!

Why can't the pujos stay for a few days more ?

Damn!

The Soshti Mega-post!

I sit to write this post in a state of terminal grogginess, just out of bed after one of the most pleasantly harrowing Pujo days ever.

I have had only 5 hours of sleep ( enough by my standards but yesterday was a different story altogether) after returning home at 6:30 in the morning.


I left home for Haridevpur at around 10:45 in the morning on what is now the expended Soshti. With only 'The Local Two' amongst 'The Chosen Few' for company we went into the pandals at 41 Pally, Ajeyo Songhoti, Palli Unnayan Samiti, Paschim Putiari and Putiari Club. Ajeyo Songhoti's theme seemed to me a cross between Kedar-Badri shrines and environment conservation. Pally Unnayan Samiti had polished bamboo and Putiari Club a tribal setting for backdrops. But, amongst them we agreed on 41 Pally offering the best value-for-time-wasted-standing-in-a-line. In simple words, "it's worth the toil". With branches of trees and roots chiseled to emulate different animal and human forms it also has rows and rows of babui pakhir basha hanging overhead to give that look of authenticity. And yes, we did give a moment of thought for all the unwilling displaced babuis. I was already running a good half an hour late in meeting my college friends at Rash Behari and I already felt a tad tired, taking some time off to ponder over our respective bottles of Sprite and Slice how "ab in boodi haddiyon mein woh baat nahi rahi....".


12:20 and I was in front of Mudiali Sarbojonin, this time again with a group afflicted with forced evictions owing to joining jobs in far-off lands. Still, 10 makes for quite a respectable number. Shiv Mandir was followed by a taxi ride to EDF. Then to Jodhpur Park ( which isn't doing any wonders the last 3 years), Selimpur and Babubagan. Babubagan has resurrected itself this year after a flop show the last year when an aquarium which needed nothing less than the great Douglas Adam's imagination to be appreciated was put on show. This time they have quite a LED-lit night sky with a praying Oshur waiting to be slayed by the Goddess in her flying saucer. Add to it the man-made darkness and stumbling Dadu-Didas and you get the picture.


A taxi-ride later we were in the throes of battle with a surging sea of humanity at Gariahat. First Ekdalia Evergreen, then Singhi Park. Ekdalia elicited such prompt comparisons with the interiors of Senco Jewellers ( or for that matter any jewellery shop) owing to their cut-glass interiors that I gazed up at its Jhaarlonthon for that extra minute, weighing the merit of such a parallel. Singhi Park has shed a lot of flab and its looking a size-zero emaciated specter of itself. The pandal space has been all reduced and the scaffold truncated.


Lunch was at Mirch Masala for the 7 of us ( that was all that was left of the group).
We had JUDE-an company at the table next to us. I guess it was more or less the better portion of the entire gang, and yes, I couldn't stifle a chuckle at their 'We Want Food!' table-banging - took our minds off the over-priced Mutton Pulao and Chicken Hariyali for a while.


With full stomachs and contented smiles we made our way to Somu's place. An hour of rest and a glass of jal-jeera afterwards I was ready to roll again( very much figuratively after a heavy lunch). Yes, 'I' alone, because the others were too exhausted after the afternoon's spoils and understandably so. It hadn't been a mean walk all this while.
But, I had "miles to go before I sleep" and almost prophetically, later, as the night wore out, I found to my throbbing feet and utter dismay that the 'miles' had had their say.

With only two people for company we did what is the proverbial jhotika safar (hurricane survey) of Maddox Square which yielded few known faces and fewer that could merit a 'stay order'.

If anyone thinks this is the end of it, my advise would be to wind up and close the tab, for the story has only just began.


Everyone from the afternoon pandal hopping group were now too busy or exhausted for anything but home. And here I was, taking a metro from Hazra to Tollygunj to meet my school friends( two of whom had already had a power-nap after the morning trip (remember???) for the task ahead of them). 9 people turned out and it marked one of the many exceptions in the last 7 years of our Soshtir Thakur dekha ritual.

One, it was the thinnest attendance we had ever had. The number had never breached the 15-man floor.

Two, it didn't look like we were interested in having dinner at Hatari - another tradition broken for the first time in 7 years.

Three, we were not going pandal hopping in South Calcutta at all.
An impromptu decision ( which had all my backing) was taken to take the North by storm and
"so it shall be done" was announced. The tried and tested Soshti-route: EDF-Jodhpur Park- Selimpur- Babubagan-Ekdalia-Singhi Park- dinner at Hatari- Ballygunj Cultural-Deshopriyo Park- Maddox Square-Badamtala-66 Pally- Mudiali-Shiv Mandir was dropped for a completely novel "Northward ho!" plan. No wonder, the fastidious conformists ( bordering on the OCD sometimes) protested such a deviation from custom. The mavericks cried "change!" and 'Change it was'.


Our first stop was Shovabazar. Being classmates with the Rajputtur of Kolkata's premier bonedi-baari helps when you are out to take into confidence warring factions of a trying tribe. I explained to them how the nature of customs in the Narayan Deb household are different from the ones in the Krishna Deb's ( my Prince friend being away keeping his date with his employers). Clearly, the majority were now won over because only one returned home and the rest decided to follow 'the plan' instead.


Ahiritola, Beniatola were ticked off quickly. Kumartuli Park was a neat spectacle. The Devi took centerstage with her wards gracing the four corners of a centrally mounted platform. Hunger pangs made us skip Hatibagan Sarbojonin and Nalin Sarkar Street and we had our dinner at some nondescript Chinese Restaurant at Ultodanga. Retracing our steps post-dinner, which was both pandal hopping and letting the gravy settle on stomach floor, we got as far as Telengabagan and Jubokbrinda. Both were quite good. Lines did not extend endlessly, people were chatty and the policemen were helpful. We South Kolkatans found North hospitality too good to be true. Wherever we had to wait in a queue the recurring theme of the ten headed Raabon ( Ravana) came up. Every alternate pujo seemed to be celebrating the demon scholar, the first patron of our Sharodiya Pujo.


On our way we skipped Gouribari, Sangrami and a couple more.
We took two autos ( there were 7 of us now) to Sreebhumi Sporting. I never understand why these pujo committees waste 10 thousand odd bamboos in making useless barricades which only pile on misery on enthusiasts like us. We had to walk half a kilometer before we decided it was useless to be law-abiding and find the rightful tail to the queue where there was no queue at all. So, we just jumped and slithered through the barricades into Sreebhumi heartland. There is this unique custom at Sreebhumi where they rope off sections of the crowd at equal intervals in the name of crowd control. I believe its just another way of engineering a 'record footfall' and nothing else. Anyways, their theme was the familiar 'sorbo dhormo somonnoy' ( religious confluence) with a funny change of lights which showed the pandal in violet, red and blue. Mindboggling!


We took autos to Dum Dum Park. The Bharatchakra theme was novel. The whole oshur-bodh episode was laid out in the form of a mime. All the idols looked fresh out of the Jogesh Chandra Mime Academy and they were good with large expressive eyes and beatific smiles. In comparison the Dum Dum Park Sarbojonin did so-so.


Hop-over to Lake Town now and we were near the Netaji Sporting Sarbojonin on my sole insistence. They didn't disappoint either. Durga on a high perch temple of straws might not attract prizes ( unlike previous years) but it doesn't labour under false pretensions like others.


We were again back to Sreebhumi from where we headed Southward again, making a point not to miss the Bosepukur biggies. I estimated all along we had collectively consumed soft drinks worth 300 rupees. The mental calorie count just didn't take off after that. A choked voice was in the offing, I gauged.



The walk from Rash Behari more to Badamtala Ashar Sangha aggravated the till-now suppressed ghosts of exhaustion and fatigue. Few could swear they felt blisters bobbing out of their soles "Live!". Shoulders were now drooping and feet going astray. 66 Pally had to be followed with Mudiali, that was the deal. And such is our commitment to our South and such is our disregard for pain that we indeed made our way to Mudiali. The occasional face betrayed surprise at the sight of a bunch of zombies jaywalking their way into narrow alleys.

Finally another taxi ride later we were all home and it was 6:00 in the morning.
"There goes another Saptami morning", I thought.

I only remember having a cold bath and going to bed.
Then %@#*&#@ woke me up to take directions of all prominent Behala pujos and I gave him a quite a list.
It was 12 noon when I woke up today and already 3 phone calls demand my presence at 3 different places at 3 different times in the day/night.

How will I ever manage ?


Md. Ali Park, here I come.

Behala, New Alipore and Khidirpore, I will leave for tomorrow.

Happy Soptomi everyone!

If the sight of 26 people gorging on Indian and Chinese dishes with manic delight at Bawarchi last Thursday noon wasn't intimidating enough Bar-B-Q got a taste of how it is like when 13 of 'us' congregate for a feast. It was only half the number but, the damage was close to the double.

From Chicken Malai Kebabs and Fish Peshawari to Mutton Korma and Rogan Josh, we ran through the entire menu with the ease of practiced assassins. And the victim at the receiving end of such a gastronomic blitzkrieg could only salvage a meek smile that often is a sign of acceptance of higher powers and savage appetites. If we thought dessert would bring him some cheer, well, it failed. Not because the ice-creams didn't melt in our mouths but it put him back by another 400 rupees, taking the count past the 6000 rupees mark- A formidable record and a menacing precedent.


All said and done, last afternoon we have set a milestone which has triggered Pujo for us all and on the other hand established itself as the benchmark we would all aspire to reach and be happy to fail.

Today is Soshti, from when the Pujo gets into second gear and one starts wondering what a field day burglars could have considering the entire population comes out on the streets.

As has been the norm with me, Soshti is the most hectic of all pujo-days. Two shifts with two different group of friends spanning the entire day (and night), covering almost all of South Kolkata and about 6-7 kilometers on foot.
No wonder I don't remember Saptami mornings.


Here's hoping 'Clear Bright Skies' for the coming four days.


Happy Pujas.
Sobaar pujo bhaalo kaatuk.

Gotto rush now...........

"Ashwiner majha -majhi uthilo bajna baaji

Pujor somoy elo kachhey

Modhu-Bidhu dui bhaai chhota chhuti kore taai

Anondey du haath tuli naachey"

These lines from the poem 'Pujor Saaj' by Tagore comes to my mind every year at the time when the air starts to smell sweet, the kash phools sway to the morning breeze with gleeful submission and the clouds float high up in the sky, arranging themselves into myriad formations that feed imagination and inspire contentment. I think the Shoroter Akash with all its magical clarity makes me 'contented' more than anything. There is something in that 'vivid blue', I guess.

Today is Ponchomi and Thank Goddess (why should boys have all the fun? :D) that the Sun is out this morning. Till last night Maddox Square looked a soggy apology of itself but now things are looking up.

I have been busy organizing our Mega-treat and now that it has been done with, from today onwards I look forward to the impending role-reversal.
The prey shall now be the predator.

So, be afraid. Be very afraid.

Park Street, here we come!