The entire city, today is wrapped up in a cloudy windswept cloak.
I met my dawn today..Phyllis Maam ,a beautiful woman ...who reminds me of warm hugs, chocolate coffee, and a time when i thought i would be an actress.
Phyllis Maam was our Tambourine Man.
Sleeping on our old beds , in different lanes across grisly old Kolkata ,young and untouched by anything extraordinary except communist academic pretentions which we did not quite empathise with..
We who knew no better ,sought our NeverLand through this Welsh Wonder-Woman who had come to our old drenched city to find a new home.
Phyllis Maam introduced the brood of us to the greater world beyond.
She spun Chekov,Feiffer, Neil Simon, the opera and the greek tragedies into a pot luck of liver pate and white wine.
Fine dining, fine living, an appreciation of a scene played out through a little window in Paris all became magically believable ........
through her large french windows , her tinkling laughter,her dark green curtains,and her motley group of performing amateurs... in a small Ballygunge Lane.
Some of us actually jumped through the skylight,
Arnab JUMPED..
He was accepted at The Sorbonne and is a journalist in Paris
Mahira JUMPED..
She was accepted at Juliard School and performs just Off Broadway.
Sidharta JUMPED
He was accepted by Columbia but became a poet and I believe has taken London by storm.....
I was too scared too JUMP ..and so did a lot of nothings and at presently peddle technology which i quite dont get.. But
In perfect moments ,in imperfect places i still discover a little bit of that promised Bohemia ..
Some Blue Cheese in a bumper buffet, a saved desktop image of Monet and Manet, a visiting theatre group, pink champagne on retail discount..
That is all that I have..
but then at least i did JUMP...out of frying fish in an oily kitchen
and i still have hope and time
To live New York,
To understand Matisse
To Discover the frutiness of a misty Roset.
I ride on the love of an unquenching search for Bohemia.
spurred on by a tongue of thirst .......that will span my eternity.
and ....my Phyllis Maam
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Simbly Smiling.
Writing a blog every Friday had become a habit .....and then one day it all stopped. My friends kept asking ..waz up dude?..and frankly I think , though i am loathe to say it ..I lost my angst..Just Like that..it caught a plane, packed it's bags and on a one way ticket left. I missed it , how i missed it , in between the midnight hours..i tried to concoct it ..but it never came back
Blog writing in my opinion,happens when you build so many walls around you that to explain each of them away ,u write ..it happens when life is complicated and the answers to most things bob in front of you like the little blurbs which form when you squint at the sun ..
When life unfolds in a happy tune in your head what do u write about ?
..You just dont care anymore about..recession..u are living in it ,why wallow more .?..bosses-they are still alive , why say more..?Mother..at a distance..moving on.........
World Politics..Election, French Open,Aussie Indian strife..all get internalised over the morning paper and tea...they dont make me rant , rave or go on morcha..or write.
Looking back ,i can classify every rite of passage ,from one hysterical high point to another..from one obesession and belief to another..and now..for the first time in my 32 years ..peace has come home...in a blue knapsack
So you never know when you have it good and u never know when you loose the good..
but if you get a bit of a day when u can put your feet up, thank god you dont have to dash off to do anything, when your faculties still work and everyone around you ...is breathing easy...you stop reading Woodehouse and live it...
Keep it simple ,is a much undervalued proposition.. ...look forward to your next cup of tea, your next page to read, your next laugh, your next meal , your next vacation and the quiet smile of companionship from the old lamp on the table.
Blog writing in my opinion,happens when you build so many walls around you that to explain each of them away ,u write ..it happens when life is complicated and the answers to most things bob in front of you like the little blurbs which form when you squint at the sun ..
When life unfolds in a happy tune in your head what do u write about ?
..You just dont care anymore about..recession..u are living in it ,why wallow more .?..bosses-they are still alive , why say more..?Mother..at a distance..moving on.........
World Politics..Election, French Open,Aussie Indian strife..all get internalised over the morning paper and tea...they dont make me rant , rave or go on morcha..or write.
Looking back ,i can classify every rite of passage ,from one hysterical high point to another..from one obesession and belief to another..and now..for the first time in my 32 years ..peace has come home...in a blue knapsack
So you never know when you have it good and u never know when you loose the good..
but if you get a bit of a day when u can put your feet up, thank god you dont have to dash off to do anything, when your faculties still work and everyone around you ...is breathing easy...you stop reading Woodehouse and live it...
Keep it simple ,is a much undervalued proposition.. ...look forward to your next cup of tea, your next page to read, your next laugh, your next meal , your next vacation and the quiet smile of companionship from the old lamp on the table.
Monday, May 11, 2009
OCD: Obsessive Compulsive Disorder
I suffer from OCD.
Obsessive–compulsive disorder (OCD) is an anxiety disorder in which the sufferer develops anxiety based on the dread that something bad has happened or will happen.
The sufferer then feels compelled to voluntarily perform irrational, time-consuming physical behaviors to diminish the anxiety.
Hell! I suffer from it but so does the system and everyone within it.
A few examples-
Meeting OCD
Any recession scared organisation requires you to chair and attend a gadzillion meetings..which propose nothing , solve nothing and involve only intellectual masturbation ...and this we do 24*7 ..Yeah!
Sometimes we get up in the middle of the night to attend meaningless nothings...Fairly repititive behaviour you would agree..
But why does the system have OCD..What does it fear?...The system my friends and all of us ants working in it fears extinction..someone somewhere is going to figure out that this is not the best optimisation of money, space and time...and so it is busy socialising the myth across all it's sectors that the only acceptable behaviour is investing in Meeting OCD...So next time you glibly call a meeting..take a step back and think ...are u a basket case or not?
Relationship OCD
This is a given...Our post modern society keeps pushing love on us guised as OCD.Irrational continuous behaviour like non-stop sms, non stop calls,non stop chats, non stop declarations of love ...are all the hallmarks of a rocking relationship..aren't they...?
But my bone of contention is not with the OCD of love but the OCD of the other relationships which make up life..
The parents and greater family network...They always know dont they, what's the best you could have been,and complusively they remind you day and night of what you obviously are not..Dont they get it ....I know.
But the messaging across the mother, aunt media countinues....And what about the OCD of friends...
Friend 1 OCD- Give me space...Ur Ignoring me .Blow Hot ..Blow Cold. Love You in the Morning , Hate you just sometime after that...
Friend 2 OCD- Let's meet , let's meet, let's meet .....Who are you again?
Friend 3 OCD- I want to be someplace else with someone else..and yes let me remind you of that once more
Friend 4 OCD- Your such a loser..and man do i rock and do u even know the number of people who love me and whom i can pick up and drop anytime.....again and again repeatedly...Realllly!
Friend 5 OCD- Everyone is more important that you are..However dont you dare stop being around for me when i want to bitch , wail and cry...:)
What do they fear? What we all fear ...Being invisible..unimportant..and just another face in your album..We strive to leave a mark..for in memory we live as deities because in reality we are jerks.
My Personal OCD- I fear the world i live in...I fear that fact that work, love , commitment, friends, the world I have defined as my life is such a transactional , negotiated space..where the only rule that exists is the rule of extreme Narcissism...
That's the largest OCD -ur important and wonderful as long as you fit into someone else's plan of how they want to define their world.The moment you stop fitting in.....your waste or wasted..
As the childhood limmerick goes..Everyone Hates Me.. I think i will go and eat worms....
Obsessive–compulsive disorder (OCD) is an anxiety disorder in which the sufferer develops anxiety based on the dread that something bad has happened or will happen.
The sufferer then feels compelled to voluntarily perform irrational, time-consuming physical behaviors to diminish the anxiety.
Hell! I suffer from it but so does the system and everyone within it.
A few examples-
Meeting OCD
Any recession scared organisation requires you to chair and attend a gadzillion meetings..which propose nothing , solve nothing and involve only intellectual masturbation ...and this we do 24*7 ..Yeah!
Sometimes we get up in the middle of the night to attend meaningless nothings...Fairly repititive behaviour you would agree..
But why does the system have OCD..What does it fear?...The system my friends and all of us ants working in it fears extinction..someone somewhere is going to figure out that this is not the best optimisation of money, space and time...and so it is busy socialising the myth across all it's sectors that the only acceptable behaviour is investing in Meeting OCD...So next time you glibly call a meeting..take a step back and think ...are u a basket case or not?
Relationship OCD
This is a given...Our post modern society keeps pushing love on us guised as OCD.Irrational continuous behaviour like non-stop sms, non stop calls,non stop chats, non stop declarations of love ...are all the hallmarks of a rocking relationship..aren't they...?
But my bone of contention is not with the OCD of love but the OCD of the other relationships which make up life..
The parents and greater family network...They always know dont they, what's the best you could have been,and complusively they remind you day and night of what you obviously are not..Dont they get it ....I know.
But the messaging across the mother, aunt media countinues....And what about the OCD of friends...
Friend 1 OCD- Give me space...Ur Ignoring me .Blow Hot ..Blow Cold. Love You in the Morning , Hate you just sometime after that...
Friend 2 OCD- Let's meet , let's meet, let's meet .....Who are you again?
Friend 3 OCD- I want to be someplace else with someone else..and yes let me remind you of that once more
Friend 4 OCD- Your such a loser..and man do i rock and do u even know the number of people who love me and whom i can pick up and drop anytime.....again and again repeatedly...Realllly!
Friend 5 OCD- Everyone is more important that you are..However dont you dare stop being around for me when i want to bitch , wail and cry...:)
What do they fear? What we all fear ...Being invisible..unimportant..and just another face in your album..We strive to leave a mark..for in memory we live as deities because in reality we are jerks.
My Personal OCD- I fear the world i live in...I fear that fact that work, love , commitment, friends, the world I have defined as my life is such a transactional , negotiated space..where the only rule that exists is the rule of extreme Narcissism...
That's the largest OCD -ur important and wonderful as long as you fit into someone else's plan of how they want to define their world.The moment you stop fitting in.....your waste or wasted..
As the childhood limmerick goes..Everyone Hates Me.. I think i will go and eat worms....
Thursday, April 2, 2009
A Bit Of Goa :)
and we went to try the tide and the sun
and took pleasure in the loss of the horizon.
Hina's Song On Goa
A bit
of a freezing bus ride
of tasting the first afternoon's catch by the quay
of jumping with dirty feet on a freshly made bed
of a Portuguese Mansion with a freckled old soul
of Young Niki and Blank Sandeep in a Cocktail Glass at Cavvala
of an easy climb at Chapora
of sitting on a bar stool in a green pool with beads kissing one's neck
of trying on a sexy costume in a stinky shack
of a little lazing, a lot of driving, laughter floating in the wind
of smiling in the sun
Pritha's Song On Goa
A bit
of a Purdah to keep the cold away on the Sunshine Bus
of wishing for a quiet moment in the gaggle of noise
of watching a red moon on a brightly lit beach
of getting propositioned by a man who mumbled much
of savouring each mouthful of butter soaked crab
of rushing off every morning to forts which had crumbled down and religious institutions one did not believe in
of driving beside a river which was engulfed by the sea
of instructing people to swim from the confort of a lounge chair
of smiling in the sun
Elina's Song On Goa
A bit
of shedding a tear at every tree, cloud, wave, time
of thinking about the great dilemma between calories and the free breakfast
of trying to tick off all the spots one had visited and all the new ones that one had found
of trying to instruct young Jui on a purposeful new word every day
of being the guardian of clean feet on bed, fresh towels in room, and baths for everyone all the time
of trying to figure out the ingredients in the sorpatel and the richad
of completely dismissing the goan vindaloo
of dancing in St Anthony's , tearing a pair of borrowed sandals and walking home barefoot
of cradling another memory to the song of the sea
of smiling in the sun
Sukanya's Song On Goa
A bit
of basking in the sun in little shorts
of not quite getting the right tick from the massage
of spreading laughter amongst the murderous mob
of trying to feed the young, please the old and comfort the in between
of being the general bank and judge for every dispute
of wanting to be on another holiday completely
of being blown away by the wind in the Sonic Shack
of reading a book here, there and everywhere
of finding a warm , calm shoulder and a starry night in a clear sky
of smiling in the sun
and took pleasure in the loss of the horizon.
Hina's Song On Goa
A bit
of a freezing bus ride
of tasting the first afternoon's catch by the quay
of jumping with dirty feet on a freshly made bed
of a Portuguese Mansion with a freckled old soul
of Young Niki and Blank Sandeep in a Cocktail Glass at Cavvala
of an easy climb at Chapora
of sitting on a bar stool in a green pool with beads kissing one's neck
of trying on a sexy costume in a stinky shack
of a little lazing, a lot of driving, laughter floating in the wind
of smiling in the sun
Pritha's Song On Goa
A bit
of a Purdah to keep the cold away on the Sunshine Bus
of wishing for a quiet moment in the gaggle of noise
of watching a red moon on a brightly lit beach
of getting propositioned by a man who mumbled much
of savouring each mouthful of butter soaked crab
of rushing off every morning to forts which had crumbled down and religious institutions one did not believe in
of driving beside a river which was engulfed by the sea
of instructing people to swim from the confort of a lounge chair
of smiling in the sun
Elina's Song On Goa
A bit
of shedding a tear at every tree, cloud, wave, time
of thinking about the great dilemma between calories and the free breakfast
of trying to tick off all the spots one had visited and all the new ones that one had found
of trying to instruct young Jui on a purposeful new word every day
of being the guardian of clean feet on bed, fresh towels in room, and baths for everyone all the time
of trying to figure out the ingredients in the sorpatel and the richad
of completely dismissing the goan vindaloo
of dancing in St Anthony's , tearing a pair of borrowed sandals and walking home barefoot
of cradling another memory to the song of the sea
of smiling in the sun
Sukanya's Song On Goa
A bit
of basking in the sun in little shorts
of not quite getting the right tick from the massage
of spreading laughter amongst the murderous mob
of trying to feed the young, please the old and comfort the in between
of being the general bank and judge for every dispute
of wanting to be on another holiday completely
of being blown away by the wind in the Sonic Shack
of reading a book here, there and everywhere
of finding a warm , calm shoulder and a starry night in a clear sky
of smiling in the sun
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Pritha's Poem : A Reply To Spring In Cubbon Park- The Spring Song Festival
With violets and purples and pinks and reds
The flowers play holi above our heads
The grate of traffic, the thwack of tennis balls
Someone singing, discordant bird calls
Tall bamboo curtains like prophets of doom
Suddenly among the maddening bloom
Dodging dog poo, watching the sky
Eyeing that bit of muscular white thigh
In future years all this will bring
Home to me this psychedelic spring
But for this morning, we three
Fill our senses and enjoy the company
Written By Pritha Choudhuri
The flowers play holi above our heads
The grate of traffic, the thwack of tennis balls
Someone singing, discordant bird calls
Tall bamboo curtains like prophets of doom
Suddenly among the maddening bloom
Dodging dog poo, watching the sky
Eyeing that bit of muscular white thigh
In future years all this will bring
Home to me this psychedelic spring
But for this morning, we three
Fill our senses and enjoy the company
Written By Pritha Choudhuri
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Spring In Cubbon Park
Paths stretched in blue mortar , bathed in the late early morning sunlight
The air light.. with the mists of the night before and maybe a few lost years
The buds and blossoms fragrant, rich in texture and color shrouding the city sun
People and pets walking into relationships without expectation
Little china dolls smiling into camera phones surrounded by the purple jacaranda
The pink, the white, the yellow petals ,
Bathing fading sneakers
China dolls , grown up.. no longer unbreakable, no longer fragile. and yet
Surrounded by the jacaranda
beautiful, sublime, happy in the moment
and reaching to touch high branches laden in bloom
The air light.. with the mists of the night before and maybe a few lost years
The buds and blossoms fragrant, rich in texture and color shrouding the city sun
People and pets walking into relationships without expectation
Little china dolls smiling into camera phones surrounded by the purple jacaranda
The pink, the white, the yellow petals ,
Bathing fading sneakers
China dolls , grown up.. no longer unbreakable, no longer fragile. and yet
Surrounded by the jacaranda
beautiful, sublime, happy in the moment
and reaching to touch high branches laden in bloom
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Milk: The Movement
I have come to recruit you !-says Harvey Milk.
Powerful orators often times make zealous revolutionaries, but being a revolutionary is not about great screenplay but conviction, passion and commitment.
The story of Harvey Milk is not only the portrayal of the struggle of the 'other' to be accepted in the ' looking glass' of a pathetic , rigid society but
a reminder to all of 'us' who are self proclaimed liberals , that arm chair theorization does not give any human being the right to feel complacent that they are rooting for the good guys.
Revolution is born of and from struggle. Revolution is born from and of praxis ( practical action , if you will). A revolution is not born of a man but of the recognition of a loss in many men. ..And then a messiah comes along ,adding momentum and leadership to the movement because he speaks what the 'other' and the 'us' know but are diffident to voice.
A revolution is therefore a collective voice and the movements of yesterday ,strangely , sometimes become the middle class truths of today.
Arguments for and against the recognition of homosexuality by society are no longer relevant.What is relevant is , that when u are divorced from a cocktail party conversation do u still go to bed with the same levels of acceptance.
I don't know, if any ,or all of us know this simple truth...
That every single one of us is born bisexual and it is the socialization process which teaches
girls to play with Barbies and boys to play with guns&trucks. The associated rites and belief structures of ' boy's don't cry,' and girls ' like to dress up,' inculcates in the ambiguous child the notion of gender. Sex and gender are divergent in nature,
simply put sex is what u are and gender what you are supposed to be.
Most of us loose out in this struggle to realise our sexual preferences since gender neutrality is not a part of the school curriculum.
My thoughts and belief in these emotionally crippled times, where love has been replaced by a modern day 'use''abuse''refuse' operation...is that if , you stumble on to someone who genuinely loves you and whom you genuinely care about..then gender should not be a restricting block. Inclination and choice not society and culture should be the reason why you are with someone or why you can be around friends who choose to be different.
As for the thousands of nameless people in the crowd who are suffering because they cant express their individual spirit for fear of rejection or false morality...may they find the strength of Harvey Milk....
More Power To Him who is different , because he has chosen to believe and define his world in his own terms..and that is the celebration of the human spirit, of life itself and the only true characteristic of Being !
Powerful orators often times make zealous revolutionaries, but being a revolutionary is not about great screenplay but conviction, passion and commitment.
The story of Harvey Milk is not only the portrayal of the struggle of the 'other' to be accepted in the ' looking glass' of a pathetic , rigid society but
a reminder to all of 'us' who are self proclaimed liberals , that arm chair theorization does not give any human being the right to feel complacent that they are rooting for the good guys.
Revolution is born of and from struggle. Revolution is born from and of praxis ( practical action , if you will). A revolution is not born of a man but of the recognition of a loss in many men. ..And then a messiah comes along ,adding momentum and leadership to the movement because he speaks what the 'other' and the 'us' know but are diffident to voice.
A revolution is therefore a collective voice and the movements of yesterday ,strangely , sometimes become the middle class truths of today.
Arguments for and against the recognition of homosexuality by society are no longer relevant.What is relevant is , that when u are divorced from a cocktail party conversation do u still go to bed with the same levels of acceptance.
I don't know, if any ,or all of us know this simple truth...
That every single one of us is born bisexual and it is the socialization process which teaches
girls to play with Barbies and boys to play with guns&trucks. The associated rites and belief structures of ' boy's don't cry,' and girls ' like to dress up,' inculcates in the ambiguous child the notion of gender. Sex and gender are divergent in nature,
simply put sex is what u are and gender what you are supposed to be.
Most of us loose out in this struggle to realise our sexual preferences since gender neutrality is not a part of the school curriculum.
My thoughts and belief in these emotionally crippled times, where love has been replaced by a modern day 'use''abuse''refuse' operation...is that if , you stumble on to someone who genuinely loves you and whom you genuinely care about..then gender should not be a restricting block. Inclination and choice not society and culture should be the reason why you are with someone or why you can be around friends who choose to be different.
As for the thousands of nameless people in the crowd who are suffering because they cant express their individual spirit for fear of rejection or false morality...may they find the strength of Harvey Milk....
More Power To Him who is different , because he has chosen to believe and define his world in his own terms..and that is the celebration of the human spirit, of life itself and the only true characteristic of Being !
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