A Tale of Superstition!

A Tale of Superstition

 

 

One frenzied Monday morning just as I took a sharp right turn towards University (read as office) I saw this - A mammoth open dustbin 👀 click went my Lumia mainly because I wanted to document that superstitions are passé! Since childhood I have always found my granny in her lady-hitler avatar whenever she found anyone keeping a dustbin or broom near the door - the reason - one glimpse of the dustbin/broom or anything that is remotely related to dirt on your way to work would jinx your entire day! (interesting prehistoric stuff... That's what you are thinking right??!) So a jinxed Monday it was! Forget a broom or a duster I just saw (and smelled) a truckload of garbage 😐 first day of a hectic week! Wow! Just as I parked my car I realised I forgot my studious pen drive at home...ahh my granny and her superstitions weren't that prehistoric...the jinx had already cast an evil shadow on my plans to share a few pdfs with my students! On my way to the sixth floor I half-expected the lift to stop midway leaving me stranded but somehow it did not happen... Every second I felt there was a disaster waiting to happen to me but nothing really happened. It was a normal Monday...as normal as mondays always are 😉 the forgotten pen drive lingered on my mind and so did my granny's firm belief in the superstition! It couldn't be true...could it? Just then I saw something peep out from the corner of my work-desk... A rare Monday smile appeared on my face and transformed into a satisfied grin! It was my pen drive 😊 I had forgotten it on my table last week...off I went to class to share with my students the e-book on colour psychology! End of the day when the biometrics flashed my name back at me and wished me goodbye for the day, I thought to myself - superstitions are too prehistoric to be able to mess with lives of people armed with Lumia(s) and iPhone(s) huh! I thought of blogging about this, as my cars engine burped into action. I don't know what sparked the moment of anagnorisis, the lonely flowers which had settled on the car's windshield or the careful beeps of the reverse parking sensors. Should it be a happy story or a sad story?

days later now that I finished writing this Tale of Superstition there is one unanswered question - is this a happy story or a sad story? What if one age old superstition could ensure cleanliness around us, then maybe we wouldn't need multiple court orders and innumerable campaigns all in vain!!! Long ago on the banks of the Ganges in hardwar I had seen a wall poster (in Hindi) warning people not to use soap or detergent or else mother ganga shall consider you a sinner! And no one dared pollute that "ganga ghat", my granny knows not what biodegradable means, she only knows that she can't afford to jinx her family's future and she would dare not die a sinner... As for me I know that superstition is passé but I know not to be happy or sad!

 

amar bhanga ektara ti

kalo roddur
rokto makha akaash
niswash e kolushito hridoy
bhanga beraar basha
aro bhanga sei nirobo kamona
school e fele asha rong pencil
ghore fele asha kagojer tukro
dolna er chhera dori
brishtite bheja chaandiyaal

kaandishni re baul kaandishni
shukno ei chokhe aae dekhi toke praan bhore...

-nilan

“Abandon Hope,All that ye enter here…”

It started off like any other day. A walk down Park Street to college. The gates of Music World had opened and they seemed as alluring as ever. Nevertheless I went on as the college gates beckoned. A cursory glance at the notice board …. everything seemed normal ….I went into the classroom.
Who was this entering class ? he was either from a drama troupe or one who mistook Xaviers to be AL QAIDA HQ ! He was a hooded man with a flowing white robe and an even whiter beard. Strangely enough the class kept mum and so did I. No questions asked and no attendance taken, he started off with a lecture on hand grenades…………Jesus Christ ! Where was I ? ….Yes hand grenades, their fragmentation and clip apparatus was all he was speaking about ! before he left he promised us of a practical demonstration the next day !!!!
Next came a stout man. His appearance was impressive. Surely wearing a tailored suit, Gucci shoes and silk tie he would not teach on rocket launchers ! He introduced himself as the professor of Demonocracy ( not to be treated as a spelling error, the subject was demoNocracy ) he began with the “morality behind man-slaughter” and taught us the “spirit of Suicide Squad”. Then he taught that Democracy was “FAR the people, OFF the people and BYE the people”. The more he talked the less I liked him and by the time he left I had made up my mind about approaching Father Principal regarding the change of stream……..on that issue what was my stream after all ?….I asked one of my class mates and he said that we all were doing an Honours in TERRORISM and had DEMONOCRACY and IMPERIALISM as pass subjects………by the time he had finished I had already broken off into a run…….a run down the stairs….I wanted to get out, this was not my sweetheart XAVIERS……………but on the way a man caught me in the corridor and inspite of my resistance started searching my bag. I was fined for NOT having an AK-47 in my bag……..this was more than my tender nerves could bear and I started crying ( and howling at the same time ! ) what had happened to my college ?
At that very instant I woke up from my sleep but the nightmare was far from being over. Bombs are still claiming the lives of the innocent and humanity dies a thousand deaths at the hands of genocidal fanatics all in the name of religion. May be another Hitler is being born out of this injustice.
W.H.Auden in his “1st Sep 1939” talks of the annihilation of an entire culture;
“Find what occurred at Lintz
What huge imago made
A psychopathic god.

I and the public know
What all school children learn,
Those to whom evil is done
Do evil in return.”

As tales of mass killings continue to fill the news headlines maybe somewhere such an institution does exist where the art of destruction is taught.

a scribble that u can certainly live without...

i joined blogger.com last day... i never got paid for what i wrote so i am a little afraid to click the "monetize" tab above... what if Blogger baba tells me... u want money for this shit? you are banned from blogging.. sob sob! so let me write for free. you who write for money can spend your time calculating the number of words and the editorial stance, I can even write kjdjkabn wskjd\hvjn and get away with it ;) am sorry i couldnt become a good enough writer and the cookie crumbled too fast it seems... last day i read a writeup on kajfhvkdjfn written by laijknvja - come on don't tel me me you don't know them. just because kajfhvkdjfn has no ads up on Tv and laijknvja has no cleavage showing snaps on google image search doesn't mean they are non-existent! oh ok..let me get back to the topic. I wanted to discuss sex and violence today... ooh sorry i didnot mark my blog as "adult" content... umm but do i need to... i mean you do have access to channel skjbavkjb and ajhsjvh all through the day don't you and your kids get to watch the aliuhvjkv advertisement while they are watching cricket don't they? umm... but do i need to tag this post as "adult" as i want to talk about PEACE which is as taboo for me as condoms were in india years ago... but now i see them in malls kept beside sanitizers and 5 stars :) India Shining ..ahem sorry...am an apolitical writer... so i prefer to type with both hands than write with right hand! thats why typing is apolitical... if you are still peering into this writeup it may not mean that i deserve to be paid for this but just that thanx to your internet speed the porn that you have put on buffering on youtube is not fully buffered... by the way it just rained last day and night in Kolkata... just after valentines day i think its a nice thing to happen that all the bushes and corners of rabindra sarobar and victoria got washed... ya ya! you can pretend you never read this line in the blog... and i will pretend that there is no need of an "adult" button in today's civilized akjcasjvbjdieufh!

I Killed my God (lyrics/ Breaking News)

I killed my God, When I was young
and I've been running ever since
I killed my God, When I was young
and I've been running ever since

Caesars are stabbed and Brutus lives on
Caesars are stabbed and Brutus lives on
I killed my god...
I killed my god...

The silent screams, The smiling wounds...
Across the plain... on a "T"

I stopped to hear my beating heart
I stopped to wash my bloody hands
I stopped to hear my beating heart
I stopped to wash my bloody hands

Caesar's are stabbed and Brutus lives on...
Caesar's are stabbed and Brutus lives on...

The Devil's God (lyrics/ Breaking News)

Power corrupts, Absolute power corrupts absolutely

Bombs in the valley, fatal religion
The holocaust – a master’s stroke
The twins buried deep
Dead bodies in a heap
The dust settles the blood dries
The silent whispers, the numb cries

But I do subtle things
With poisoned fingers and deadly stings
A cut here and two cuts there
No heart nor soul, I know no care
Oh I do subtle things

The other day I was walking down Richmond street, besides the empty cans and the burning lights and I met God…
THE DEVIL’S GOD

[now we get to see the TRP]
with a frozen heart he shows the way
and you shall only know what I say
he whispered to me what you’ll never know
but with greed in you he shall grow

[To ankur]
Now up you go my fallen kid
No heart… no fear… no pain

ankur

[Ankur in a trance repeats]
no heart, no fear, no pain
to sell your soul
The devil’s God… Haha
The Devil’s God…
THE DEVIL’S GOD

Phuchka is my BIRTH-RIGHT !!!

As soon as she arrived, she could sense that something was out of place. There was nothing wrong with that summer evening- there was the cool breeze- my heart skipped a beat as soon as I saw her- she was looking gorgeous (she always did!!!) ; yet things were not the same. The phuchkawallah was nowhere to be seen! It was not the first time we had planned to meet opposite the Globe cinema hall…..Cupid certainly did play a part in our union but phuchka had a cameo role too (call it paanipuri….call it golgappa….whats in a name??) Many a time we had confessed to each other that we loved the phuchka more than we loved each other…….

But that evening the phuchka or the phuchkawallah (equally famous in Kolkata) wasn't there. The difference showed in her face……the difference showed on my face too…..which I saw in her eyes (oops!! too romantic and clichéd!!!!) After a brief tour of the New Market we realized that all the phuchkawallahs had done the vanishing act. Then suddenly she gave a sharp, shrill shriek…….( excuse the alliteration!) and pointed to the left, a banner read –

Phuchkas banned in Kolkata

Protest and get your phuchka back…now or never

Attend the seminar in the parking plaza- 6.45 PM

A quick glance at the watch ….6.50 Pm……but better late than never…….we ran…..a bump here…..a jump there and lo!! We were in the middle of the action

Amidst the huge gathering and the media frenzy I tried my best to see who were seated on the stage. There were three people onstage- Richard Gere, an old dhoti kurta clad man and a long-white-bearded fanatic (Oh! I never realized that even I had started linking "white long beard" with fanaticism). First the bearded man addressed the

audience…….she grabbed hold of my arm (may be even she feared that he would hurl a grenade at us!!)…I could not quite understand what he was mumbling. The only word that caught my attention was – "jehad". He was in favour of the phuchka….wow!!...how many times in life are you fortunate enough to land on the right side of "jehad"?

After him Richard Gere got to the microphone. He certainly was not speaking in favour of the phuchka. But he certainly had not lost the charm and suavity of his "Shall We Dance" days….this time it was me who grabbed hold of her arm! Gere gave us around a dozen reasons to shun phuchka and I was almost anticipating that he would say – "phuchka caused aids"- but thankfully he did not take insanity to that level! He constantly kept searching for someone. ("someone" to be read as "Shilpa Shetty"……but certainly we were not truck drivers nor does lightning strike twice) He kept on stressing that phuchka was unhygienic….he certainly never had eaten a phuchka……as then you don't care of hygiene…..you just put it in your mouth and bite…..the tamarind water fills your mouth and the phuchka crunches……that's Nirvana! ( that certainly is the Bong interpretation of Nirvana) Gere certainly had no intentions of stopping when suddenly the dhoti-kurta clad old man assaulted him. I heard a shout-

"Down with Imperialism"

Wat? Hell broke loose and the media captured "precious" footage….clutching onto her hand I rushed out of the parking plaza…. I knew what would follow- protests and strikes (probably even a few parliament sessions!)….. I knew that in the mean-time I had lost my "phuchka" forever! I broke down crying. She tried to console me and said-

"Wake up idiot, you have your exams!"

What???....ohh!!!...it was my mother waking me up. I had a nightmare but instinctively I told her :

"I love phuchkas"

The expression on my mother's face told me that she thought that the examination stress had got to me…….I myself thought I had gone mad.

I realized we had all gone mad. In this "civilized" society every bearded man gets stripped naked in an airport, any reason that poses as a threat to us gets categorized as Capitalism, each time we breathe we know somewhere someone has breathed his last in the name of religion……..humanity dies a thousand deaths every day….. I sighed-

"Have I not a reason to lament

What man has made of man?"

Maybe I thought too much. I gave "her" a missed call and hurried to get ready for my examinations (hey, "she" was real…not a nightmare!)

_in the metro of a METRO_

Am waiting for her…in central metro…there's a bizarre song being featured in the metro TV and I have a man peeping into my cell phone screen...[sometimes I love to emphasize that it's a PDA]..and I begin texting the 2nd editorial of this magazine. Sometimes in life u suffer [or are blessed with] those moments when you want the world to walk past you..and want to just breathe and feel the numbness of life..hmm.. Poetic ehh? No dear..i'v buried that pen and muse of mine long ago. Am not great enough to be a preacher [or in that case..an editor too] but I just want to tell you about a media-man's muddle. [trust me…when you are persuing a direction course in FTII PUNE and running a magazine in Kolkata…it's more than a muddle] But the article is not about multitasking. Ohh… multitasking… these articles post- “give me some sunshine and give me some rain” make the world feel that our whole generation is obsessively suicidal… the average age of the U TH KOLKATA team is 24 and I do speak for all of us – we swear by our multitasking abilities – We certainly don’t have suicides on our minds! Ok. Let’s do a jump-cut.

I landed in Pune the day after the German Bakery blast and there was a certain amount of apprehension and fear mixed with my silent tears of leaving my family and Kolkata behind. In that mood I remembered the opening lines of a PC action game I used to play, I think it was Rainbow Six which went like this… International terrorism is a booming industry. Money and expertise flow into it… I forgot the rest of it! U kidding? How can we forget the rest of it – the rest of it is what is happening to us. Am afraid of everyone who carries a black strange briefcase and am suspicious of all men with long beards and each moment I feel am dying – how can one live without faith – fossilized prejudices have become demons haunting us and Wordsworth(s) do have a “reason to lament, what man has made of man”. “My name is Khan and I am not a terrorist” – for me the film dint work but my question is – why does a Khan need to say this? Another question is – who gives you the right to bomb a country to save another country? Who gives you the right to play god? Hope you have answers as I am a man without answers and all I know is “there are no noble assassins”.

If you thought this article is about multitasking or about terrorism – you are wrong – it is about asking the right questions. Ok. Let me ask you a simple question. Or give yourself a chance to ask yourself a simple question – take some time out – stand in front of the mirror and, look into “it” and ask – Who are you? and for once be honest. Never mind whether you contest elections, cure patients, preach breathing patterns, make films, write editorials or just struggle to stay alive – just for god’s sake look into the mirror – (if you still can) – and ask that stranger – WHO ARE YOU? Once you get that answer then… huh! The answer ehh??? Go ask that stranger first…

_Young wrinkles_

It’s been for quite some time that I have been staring at the blank computer screen. My fingers waiting patiently, while my brain (she tells me, I don’t have one) ran from Dumdum to Kavi Nazrul. Just a few days back I had made up my mind about dedicating the first editorial to… umm… I forgot.

Magazine’s come in many shapes and sizes. Accordingly they are classified as Box Magazines, Tubular Magazines, Rotary or Spool Magazines, Drum Magazines, Pan Magazines and Helical Magazines. UTH KOLKATA is a Quarterly Magazine. Fire arms that can operate with detachable magazines, like the Thompson submachine gun, can accept both box and drum magazines. Am not sure how fast Kolkata will accept this youth magazine. We shall have to stand the test of time[s] (all puns intended). Wait a minute, I’ll be right back. Sorry, I know I should have switched off my cell phone before I sat down to scribble (rather Tap) this editorial.

On second thoughts, I should refrain from discussing about magazines; lest people think that I am promoting violence. These are troubled times. I have told all the editors and columnists to use their “right” hands and “left” hands equally while typing. It’s an apolitical magazine you know. I hear explosions; I smell the stench of dried blood on parched fields; I see the crowded desolation. Wake up Sid and write back. I know not who gave birth to Hitler and why Christ forgave Judas, but I faintly remember a poet called Neruda saying, “There are no noble assassins”. Splat! these mosquitoes are killing me… finally It’s pay back time… oops, I have blood all over my left palm (no puns intended); it’s my own blood I know.

I expected the tap water to be colder than it was, it’s December after all. But the way things keep on unfolding in the Copenhagens of the global village, I doubt if the tap water will get any colder in January when you get the magazine. Global Warming can truly be a hot issue (literally and metaphorically).But, it’s one of the most hackneyed of 21st century topics. People are making films, composing songs, and writing stories, organizing seminars and much more. Everything is being done except coming to a common decision – WE MUST STOP GLOBAL WARMING (all kyotos included). Anyways, I was thinking, what if I write a commissioned article? By the way this one too is a commissioned article. We are receiving funds from an undisclosed Swiss Bank Account… nah! Just kidding…

Setting up a magazine is quite tough (that’s a hideous understatement). People ask you questions, all kinds of it – simple, thought-provoking, scornful, bizarre, the list goes on. These questions all get entangled in your mind. Some questions which you could not answer and some questions you did not want to answer. In that state of mind you should never sit down to write an editorial. It’s like going to cast your vote when the only option you want to find in the EVM is not there – “vote for none”! A lost cause… eh? Anyways, don’t peek into my mind anymore, as none of this is going to find a place in the first editorial which I write.

Ctrl + A

Delete

It’s been for quite some time that I have been staring at the blank computer screen. My fingers waiting patiently, while my brain (she tells me, I don’t have one) ran from Dumdum to Kavi Nazrul. Just a few days back I had made up my mind about dedicating the first editorial to… umm… I forgot.

UTH KOLKATA, Editorial, Vol 01 Issue 01