Dial R*A*M*M for Goa

Twice I had been to Goa and only thing I can tell about it that it is a perfect place to visit concerning scenic beauty. Today we read many horrid stories about Goa and celebrities from Goa keep blaming foreign tourist for this state, as it is very easy for them to make a statement in the media. Mainly crimes towards the women are in Goa is a common thing now these days and every here and there you will hear something happening and mostly associated with women. Rape, Abuse, Molest and Murder are sounds like as it is some word from school syllabi in Goa. Frankly speaking, Goa was never safe place, not today and not before, I am talking about as back as early eighties.

Yes early eighties first time I visited Goa. I was not holidaying, I gone there for the wedding of my friend’s brother. After eighteen hours of bus journey when I reached there, my friend was there at the bus stop, we had our lunch in a local hotel and proceed to their village house. My friend just bundle me out to a Bike, I thought the rider may be known to her but after reaching her village home I came to know that the Bike was one type of convenience and I have to pay for my ride. It was not that bad but only Goa where I have seen this kind of public convenience. The house and surrounding was picture perfect, you cannot ask something more than that for a few days gateway from Mumbai, a dreamland. That time the village was not having electricity.

I born in Kolkata and most of my childhood spend in Jammy, so never seen a real village before that one. My friend’s grandmother was very fond of me and whenever she used to visit Mumbai always used to make a point to meet me. Night we served with Goan food, just what we Bengali’s like, Fish Curry and Rice. Nevertheless, the rice was fresh from there own farm. Next morning, when I got up I could hear lots of hustle and bustle around the neighbourhood, when I asked my friend what all about it, she informed me that a bus for Panaji just going to arrive and that was the only bus, which will go to capital of Goa, and by late afternoon, the bus will return. Even the bus was having a regular conductor but it stopped to every doorstep to the request, which sounds like this ‘Rao Re’ (Stop). It was very enjoyable experience. By late afternoon, I found that the dress I supposed to wear for next days wedding was not properly iron. When I told this to my friend, she told me that I could do this only on the main road, which was twenty minutes away from her house. So I decided to go to the main road with a twelve year old boy from neighbourhood. When we reached to that laundry, the man was busy with other cloths, after finishing, he ironed my cloth and when we about to return back, it was little dark. We keep talking many things, as I was knowing Kokani very well. When we reached midway, it was very dark and then we heard a footstep just behind of us. Then all of certain the boy shouted at me

- ‘Aunty run’. I said ‘Why?’ he never replied and started running. I too followed him. I was very athletic person and running was not new thing for me, but running for life, yea, it was only for the first time. After running rest of the distance, only stopped when we reached at my friend’s house. Then I asked him ‘Come on, why you make me run?’ he told me that –‘Aunty, the fellow behind us may be following us, this is Goa and you do not know, nothing is safe here’.

The incident was part of my life happened in early eighties and the above dialog was just from a Goan and above all he was only twelve years of age. Even until today, I can laugh for one of that situation, when in dark and dusky evening; I was running for my life through narrow village road of Goa, very adventures. Not just the women, the beautiful land which they inherited, itself raped, molested, abused and murdered by the anti-social elements of Goa. Drugs and liquor are something which available in every by lane. Therefore, big mouth celebrities, stop blaming the tourist, because of them only Goa is a hotspot among tourists, and try to do bit and find a solution.

!!!In our life, blaming someone else is the easiest thing to do, easy way-out if you want to hide your own weakness.!!!

Things that sinks with every passing day

Losing a dear one and that combined with a great human being, no wealth in the world can compensate that. My mother was a wonderful human being and a very quite person, whose most of the days used to spend in the kitchen only. She was very fair and just around 5’ or little over. She was an asthmatic patient, in those days there were not much options for this chronic disease. We were having privilege of getting all best medical benefit from TMH (Tata Main Hospital), during winter and monsoon mother was a frequent visitor to the hospital and often used get admitted.

I was getting ready for my first board examination, just couple of month away from it and then one-day mother have to admit in the hospital, it was nothing new to us. I visited her that particular evening, met her at the hospital, just could not make it very next day for something and finally in the afternoon day after that I managed to sneaked in the hospital, as it was not a normal visiting hour, found her in ventilator. Frankly, I was not too worried, because we were very novice and even having no idea about that machine called ventilator. The nurse who was attending her was very sympathetic to me; tensed twenty-four hours passed that way. After visiting her next morning I came back home for lunch but could not able to have it, by some instinct instantly gone back to the hospital. I saw the same nurse who was attending my mother on the corridor and when she saw me she just turn back and moved to the other way, I failed to get the signal. It was all over. My mothers’ very quite presence in the house became a reality, it was really very quite over there and only memory of her that remains. With in a few days I was normal and start preparing for my board examination, even overheard my classmate “everybody have to move on, no matter whatever happened”. However, I was wrong as well as she too, my life is never as same as it was and with every passing day, it keep sinking in me. I still can narrate every word of which taken place during my last visit to her in the hospital. May be by death she become an integral part of me.

I was then very young and new to Mumbai; she was having three kids and younger one just a few months old. When we met for the first time, we just smiled to each other, next instant she told me to visit her and she used to do so whenever she met me thereafter. Later I came to know that her respect for Bengali’s, what made her taking bit more interest towards me. Therefore, I started visiting her and that was where it started, a long-standing relationship, which was having no name. Her house was always my second home. Whenever any good things or vice-versa happened in our life, we were first person to tell each other. Her husband treated me like a sister and to her vast family whoever were there I was treated like a one of them. Even when I used to get sick, she never allowed me to go back home and taken care of me. In my case whenever I back from anywhere after landing Mumbai, my first destination was always her house. Once we both were going through some financial problem and one evening she came to my place with all smile to handover a few bucks which she got from somewhere. I told her

- Come on! I will take care of it; you have a family to look after.

She was one who never gives up. We were two different individual, having lots of different opinion, coming from different cultural background but at the same time shares many common bonds, enjoyed our outings, movies, tennis, game of cricket with lots of enthu. My last visit to Mumbai I stayed with her couple of days, she was disturbed for certain thing and pours her heart to me and then I last talked to her on Diwali before last one.

Last year one night I was doing something that now these days I hardly do, reading a storybook. Around 9.30 p.m., her niece (a friend of mine and like a sister to me) called me on my cell to inform that Chikki (aunt) is no more, within few hours she was gone.

I took it very coolly as if nothing happened and back to my reading, then had my dinner and finally gone to sleep and then its started sinking in me, memories of all those thirty years, everything. I just can see her in our first meeting in a housing board building third floor staircase and smiling to each other. It took me almost seven-eight days and a few sleeping pills to recover. I was very down and some of my close students helped me out with their counseling.

Big thanks to these two wonderful women, one who brought me to this world and other I met by chance. Wish you two a very very happy women’s day. In this world, no one deserves it more than you two do.

!!!Memory of loving one, Just like old wine, with time it gets better, only one make you high and other leave you very dry!!!

Glee, Music, Dance and of course lots of Colours, Don't Mind Yaar, it's Holi!

At present my beloved winter standing at its twilight, out of my window I can see the cold breezes are vanishing thick and fast. Feeling very down, as it is time to say good-bye to the most loved ones, I mean winter.  Only hope that it may strike back with all its charms within another eight months. Already fans are swinging in full force and waiting for the dreaded summer. This is spring; nothing special than the beautiful flowers blooming in everybody’s garden and can hear the sweet singing of shrewd Cuckoos. It is also time for spring harvest. In our country, this is Phagun and in Kolkata, month of Phalgun, only thing we can remember in Phagun is HOLI. This one of such festival which simply standout form all other festivals of our country. It is celebrated just on the next day of Phagun Full Moon.

Holi means riot of colours. This is only festival celebrated uniform way all over India by putting little regional flavour. There are many believe regarding the origination of this festival. Many believe that Holi mainly originated from Vrindaban where festival of colour played between Radha-Krishna. Women, especially, enjoy the freedom of relaxed rules and sometimes join in the fun more aggressively. In Rajasthan what I know that women having full permission to flog the men, at least once in whole year its work opposite direction. Even it has done with a playful intention; still flogging anybody is most inhuman thing to do.

The Holi Bonfire, another nostalgic thing related with the Holi. The origin of the traditional lighting of Holi Bonfire is attributed to the burning of Holika, the sister of demon, Hiranyakashipu, while trying to kill, Bhakta Prahlad. Holi Bonfire takes me back to Kolkata in my early days. Once I collected a few woods from our garden all by myself to the near by pond, which adjoined to our house, after I lighted, all new flower in our Mango tree destroyed instantly, the bonfire after that incident, please do not force me to tell you.

Apart from my early days I was never very much active in this festival even I liked it very much. In Kolkata there were many innovative things used to happen when I was staying there. We used to make phichkari using Bamboo and made natural water colour by boiling Palash Flower (Flame of the Forest). While staying in I.I.T. neighbours banged my door regular interval, only on this particular day my door always remain closed for my neighbours. The brave door took all the beating year after year, tolerates all anger and irritation of my neighbours on behalf of me, and never gave up.

Most funny thing about Holi is that people move around with their multi-colour faces with this slogan – “Holi Hai”, seems it is the most secret thing to share with everybody. Even over the years, I have not taken part in this festival, still among all Indian festival this is the best and standout from others. Why? To enjoy this festival you just need -

!!!Five Rupees in Your Pocket and a Pair of Old Torn Outfits, Come on Guys! You are Rich Too.!!!

Thumbs Down to the Evil Power

Death is a reality and dark one too,it scares every living soul. I am no exception; rather it is waiting to die is more horrible than the death. Fate is;one thing, which I forced to believe. While passing through the different paths of my life often a sharp turn came, some of those were horrible experiences and painful, but some were very pleasant one. Nothing planned, like a great actor standing on the stage acted spontaneously and played in the hand of the fate like a small child. Therefore, how I am going to die it is the big question. Yes! Not dieing, but how I am going to die, is a spine-chilling query that always made me uncomfortable.

Everyone born with certain qualities, good qualities are worth but it is always difficult to assess ones bad qualities and kicked it up for good. If everyone could do that then the world would have been different place to live around. If you got a beautiful brain gifted by God, worth sharpening, you are very lucky, at the same time you cannot be proud of it because it is gifted or inherited, what you can really feel proud of is that how you used it. I really appreciate and admire those who really tried and use their most precious little thing presented by God.

In current situation there are no taker of my appreciation, mainly there are so many lunatic crawling around us. Some of these madcap doing what they can do best. Bombing at Punes German Bakery on 13/02/2010 is what I am talking about. Few bright and energetic young people lost their life. Four of them from Kolkata itself, Shilpa Goenka, Rajeev Agarwal, Ankik and Anandi Dhar the brother and sister duo. Nevertheless, a victim is a victim; they do not come with a stamp, visa or passport. Death of sixteen young and beautiful mind. It pained me a lot. Our politician less bothered, except few customary visits and shameless interviews. Then you have great Thakres, sitting behind the Z-category security always playing their Amchi Mumbai card with baseless non issues and always a big chunk of police force wasted for nothing, only common man just fall prey of these faceless harebrained. How these families coped with it? How their life will be after these? It is certain that one day these lunatic also will get their own medicine, here I like to refer to the fate of killers of brave Neerja Bhanot .

A bright student, an IIT grad, a young commando not a just another one, they are very precious. It take lots of hardworking, dedication and honesty to achieve that. Of course, in death, anybody cannot be different from other but after achieving so much a young person dieing like this, why?

I was dumbfounded; nothing was in my hand, except a few drop of tear, a heartfelt pray and thought. In the same time, they were too young to think about dieing, they never waited for death, they died instantly. So, instant death what I am looking for, I am not sure. God, my only request to you-

!!!Spare these young and beautiful mind, if you cannot then please do not show them the light of these world.!!!

Awaken and walked to the spirituality with my little friend who stayed with me decades.

It is no more a secret that I was born in a very orthodox family and it was very difficult for me to shake out whatever I got in the beginning or what I inherited. During my life in Mumbai specially early part, I was very much involved with Christianity and I was always finding myself visiting different churches of  Mumbai. I often fitted there more than any die-hard Christians does.

While living in Middle East I was having many Muslim friends. Both the communities are drifted pole apart mainly due to partition and ugly scenario aftermath, and definitely, it will remain same in the context of latest happening in our country. However, it is true that I was having a few good friends out there. Even they were educated, God they were very orthodox. What about me? I was scared to eat any kind of meat at those friends house always thinking they may serve me beef or pork, so an orthodox Hindu always remains in me. Of course, one day I stopped eating all kinds of meat, not because I was an orthodox upbringing but because while eating meat I found myself some sort of uncivilized one. Sorry, who are eating, not meant to hurt them. While studying computer we often used to visit Haji Ali Dargah, it was really gave me nice feeling but cannot explain the cause.

Then I met a wonderful Sikh family, I was much close to the family, specially the daughter who was a friend of mine, now staying in Australia and her Sis-in-Law and no need to mention during that period I visited the Gurdwara regularly with them. I really liked the atmosphere and which prompted me to visit Golden Temple later.

Another community I liked to mention, very soft spoken and I was privilege to have a few friend among them too, yes, I am talking about Parses. Peoples from other communities never allowed to their holy place, I mean fire temple, so I cannot tell more about that.

Then a unique transition period came to my life. I finally settled in Mumbai, one day I realized that there were no God in me. I was not visiting any kind places that belongs to the any religious belief. During this time, things were very different for me, one day when I was waiting for someone near Matunga station, a known face smiled at me and asked

- Hi, going to temple?

There was small Ganesh Temple near by, but I was very irritated by her query and feeling as if she insulted me, shot back

- Why should I go to temple?

Then realized that she just asked a harmless question, instantly tried to repair the wrongdoing and replied with a smile

- Sorry, I am waiting for someone.

Therefore, every part of me including my soul was free from all kind of religion. In early nineties I moved to Dombivli, my friend from Vikhroli told me that moving to a new place, so I should perform a little puja. I told her if she feels that way then I do not mind. She found a priest and we performed a small puja. The priest left behind a small Ganesh idol and told me to find a proper place for the idol, I found one. Strangely, thereafter a unique feeling started creeping in me, as if somebody always watching me and slowly steadily I got back the belief I lost but it was not religion or religious belief, it was spirituality and again I was visiting different religious places without much religious belief, only thinking God exists and always with me.

During those uncertain time when I visited my home, always narrated how I enjoyed my visit to the churches, my people was very scared thinking that I may converted to Christianity, and one day asked me

- are you converted?

I was surprised, said – Converted? What converted?

The moment I think about converting, I may be giving myself to the orthodox belief of religion and by converting to other religion, I would have been more Hindu than before. All those temples may be luring me more.

Today I understand it is a spirituality, and not religion that you need, it gives you total peace. I had born with stamp, because I was not having any choice but try to die without any.

!!! I decided to donate my body after life, so when my ends come, it will be without any religious stamp!!!

Want a Supari? I Got One from Government.

Before I can proceed, I want to clarify about the word Supari. There are two types of Supari, one is a type of nuts, chewed with or without betel leaves for nothing and in result you will get a few problem, exact problem I also do not know, it is very funny because all addictions ends there only. Other Supari is more interesting one, it is money given to the contract killer to get rid of the thorn. This thorny affair is having lots of flesh and blood in it too. Yes, I am talking about the last one only.

Passion for two-wheeler: When I am all eleven, I decided to learn cycling and all by myself. My father’s cycle was the one available for me, which was huge and heavy. In Jammy, we were having a narrow road just behind our quarter directly goes to the Kharkai River. I used to take the cycle there and tried hard to get hold of it, it was no less than a wild horse. Most of the days, I used to return with deep gush on my elbows, knees, toes, even on forehead and spare me from disclosing anything aftermath. Most of the days have to run to the small hospital near the house meant for the Tata Employees, to get a bandage. However, after a while the cycle felt bad, most probably looking at my injuries and my blood donation ability, finally one day I succeed. Even not able to mount on the top but at least putting two feet across to the both paddle while resting my hand on the seat, we call it scissor. Apart from a cycle, those days we hardly could think about other vehicle, but I used to envy my P.T. teacher because she was having a Luna.

A branded middle class and living in Mumbai means you are always travelling by BEST buses and mostly by famous Mumbai locals. Later one played a very significant role in my life. Never mind those ugly moment while getting in, those pushing, hurting, foot stamping, fights but also having a big positive sides too, the nostalgic get-together and the gossip timing with friends from all sizes, shapes and all communities. While staying in I.I.T, often I used to hire a cycle and zoom around the campus.

During holidays whenever I visited Jammy tried my hand on my niece’s two-wheeler and when back to Kolkata decided to buy one. After lots of thinking, finally decided against it, that also for one thing only, the moment I get the machine I am not going walk anymore, so I decided to drop the idea. This was one of my wish list, which was achievable, affordable but still not permissible.

During my eight years in aboard always having different car for our travelling purpose, you name it – Merc, Volvo, all those Japanese cars, Land Rover, Hammers and of course car made by General motors. However, cannot forget the two doors Honda, it was my dream car. I am always a huge car buff and always keeping track with new machines around, but never dreamt to have a one. My brother is having a one, so one day I decided to learn driving, joined a motor training class, the fellow used to pick me up from home around 5.30a.m. After I finished with my training, my trainer informed me that to collect my license I have to appear for a test and also told me that it is just a routine job still I was damn nervous. After waiting outside Motor Vehicle Office somewhere in Alipore, Kolkata, a man came up to me with a file in hand and asked ‘What is the stop sign?’ I showed him the sign and he was gone. That was my driving test in Kolkata for the license. You believe me or not, yes that was the test for me and all aspirant drivers who wanted a driving license. So Kill Bill, sorry I am not in competition with Uma Thurman or Quentin Tarantino, I rather say

!!!OOPs, I got a License to Kill at will, that too from Government.!!!

Battered, Bruised Badly but Still Strong, Most Lovable and Raring To Go

Nothing gets bigger than these two things, mother and motherland. We just done with our sixtieth Republic Day celebration and that mean since Sixty years we are enjoying and living as a democratic person. Most people do not know meaning of democracy. I learned it very hard way and lucky still surviving. When I was in Middle East, first time I came to know how free we are when we express our thoughts. Many countries of the world where you just have to eat, sleep and pray in the name of the ruler and if you said a thing against them, you may be lying six feet under. While living some of those cities in the Middle East, one of that was Baghdad and other Jeddah too, we were living like total what can be describe as dumb dumb, never allowed to express your feeling and forced to strangle your religious belief and spirituality whatever was there. We lost all our freedom to express ourselves while living such places and only for sake of money, a bitter truth.

When India decided to go democratic way, that eventual day happened long before I was born. The day 26th January 1948 was indeed a historic one, agreed by all and so-called NRI’s too, specially those who accidentally found themselves in a non-democratic land and most probably learned same way as I did. All joy of democracy may be bit soured by the fact that  pioneer of India’s independent Mahatma Gandhi was no more that time, he was killed within six months after we finally got rid of the British rule. Today I look upon Gandhiji from little different perspective but still not very much agreed to his non-violent movement. Up to certain extent, I also can carry the baggage of non-violence but when pushed to the edges, it is time to flex my muscle too. Why not? I am no saint.

Like last year this year also, I visited the army campus in Fort William Kolkata. Spend a quality time with the Army personnel, got loads of knowledge about their life, modern artilleries and different kind of machinery they are using. I also surprised them with my knowledge specially in the field of networking devices.

Once, one of my friend told me ‘Look at the Indian map, it is very unique, it look like always ready to hug me’. Yes, it is always ready to hug you and it is time for you to stop complaining about Government and stop drawing a balance sheet all the time about what you got form Government, it is not between you and the Government it is between you and the country. Try to do something or anything; it is worth, just do it. It is a unique country with very rich culture curry. Battered by the neighbours, so called insider and traitor, bruised badly, still it is my country and that too largest democratic country of the world. India! Proud of you.

!!! Who said sixteen is sweet, sixty is sweeter. !!!