Prime Numbers,,,

" I think Prime numbers are like life, they are very logical but you can never figure out all the rules, even if you spent all your time thinking about them,," So runs a paragraph from the book I am reading right now, -Mark Haddon's ,'The Curious Incident Of The Dog In The Night Time', and since I read the lines an hour back, I have been thinking of very little else, we go through every single day of our lives, pretending to be well-planned, orderly and love to labour under the illusion that Life is exactly what we want it to be, how foolish we really are!

We all like a certain amount of order, predictability and planning in our lives, it is a different matter that for some of us, present company included, it takes a slightly more pathological form, and for all of us, all that we do, from morning till night, is in accordance with this plan, but in-spite of all our best efforts, life is as unpredictable as always, dealing us exactly the hand IT wants, and pretty soon we are left trying just to salvage the game, all thoughts of our 'master plan' long gone from our minds.

Life is like a set of Prime Numbers,with its own set of perfect rules, but never quite fully comprehensible, and the list never quite complete,,,,,,,,,

On being poor,,

I want to go home, for Puja. I can go into raptures about the ensuing Sharod-otsav and what it means to me, a Bengali,,suffice to say, I can smell the season in the air, and I long to go home,,,,,,

I do not think I shall be able to, why? Because flight tickets costs are above the roof,( sob-sob), and before I am labelled a snob for thinking of flying home rather than enjoying a leisurely journey in the common man's savari, I would like to clarify by saying that I am neither a snob, nor am I loaded with cash, it is just that the leave alloted to me is of 10 days, so going home, by train, and returning back on time, is out of the question, unless,,,,unless I call my parents, ask them to meet up with me in the Railway Station, and not even bother stepping down from the train, Lovely idea?

I hate being poor, I hate not having the hard moolah, that would have enabled me to be home in the Festive season.


Darn, double darn,,,,,,

Pride

i know this topic is "Passe" but still I cannot help wonder, does any one's heart still trill and the mind sing at the call of the bugle, to the strains of the 'Jana Gana Mana'?

This topic is hardly open for an everyday discussion but it is just that I have been reading a book based in the 1900s, set during WW2, and this has made me dwell on the subject of Nationality, Pride in ones country and what belonging to a Nation, any Nation, means to us, if it does mean anything at all,

Throughout my childhood days, early in the wee hours of days like the 15th of Aug, and the 26th of Jan, I woke up to the mellifluous Lata Mangeshkar, via the public address system, sounding like a soulful prayer, singing compositions of patriotism, penned by immortals, the lyrics of those songs still etched firmly in memory. I also remember standing, squinting against the sun, in starched uniforms, in rows, erect, proud, the Tricolor flapping in the breeze, waiting for the public march-past that always was a part of these celebrations, to begin.

I have memories of the Kargil war, brought home to us, thanks to satellite TV, in a real, and somewhat surreal manner, those clothes and fund collecting drives,long treks with sometimes very little but our soothed National pride, to show, at the end of a very long day,,,all a part of trying to belong, to be a part of what was taking place so far away, on those hilly, snow-clad peaks and valleys.

I remember standing transfixed at the India Gate, looking at the names of those who died, martyrs, sacrificing their yesterdays for our todays,,and I refuse that it was just another day at the office for any of those brave souls.

I also believe, that night long ago, in 1947, there were countless unseen faces amidst the thronging, joyous crowds, their eyes filled with tears of success, countless mothers with laps emptied, widows with their budding dreams forever swathed in white, yet all with their heads held just that little bit higher, for it was on the ruins of their lives a Nation stood, new-born, full of possibilities, full of promise.

When Rehman and Lata came together to give us a refurbished 'Vande Mataram', ans Bala gave us the accompanying sweeping visuals, every rustic face in the video, seemed radiant with love for the country, good actors? I do not think so,,,

I was here for this years Independence day, and what a welcome change it was indeed, to see the Tricolor unfurling from every imaginable place, and a few unimaginable ones at that, cycle rickshaws and a few proud BMWs to, all sporting a different sized one, Assam seems to have forgotten the joys associated with the day, and this year gave new meaning to the day for me.

I remember my mom, a school teacher, always stopping and standing still, no matter where she happened to be, whenever she heard the National Anthem, and she heard it every morning, as their school used to sing it at the morning assembly, every day, so on the days she was late, she would hear it midway to school, and halting, would resume her journey once it was over, I also stand up to the Anthem, no matter where it happens to be played, and no matter what I happen to be doing at the time.not because I have to, but because I want to, makes me feel like I have done my tiny bit, for this country of ours which deserves much more, so much more.

JAI HIND.

(Please forgive the typos, I cannot edit this post.)

Have you?

Have you ever stood out in the open, squinting against the sunshine, but at the same time, enjoying its warmth caressing you?
Have you ever huddled beneath the covers, in the dark nights, listening to a storm howling outside?
Have you ever looked into the eyes of a dog, your dog, and seen nothing but 100%, pure, raw unadulterated love?
Ever sat before a fire, on a cold evening, just chatting or listening quiet, to a conversation flowing around you?
Read a book in a corner, undisturbed, till it has grown too dark to see anymore, and you realize the afternoon has sped by?
Listened to a great song, an old favorite, and in spite of the smile hovering on your lips, you suddenly feel the sting of unshed tears, behind your lids?
Have you ever, for that matter sat outside, at dusk and watched the world around you settle down for the night?
Ever woken up early, very early in the morning, after a long spell of rains and found yourself staring at a freshly washed and laundered sky, aglow with the first rays of sunlight?
Have you smelt heaven in the fragrance carried on the wind, after the first showers? A mixture of wet grass, soaked earth and newly awakened hopes and desires?
Thought of a friend with whom you had a fight, aeons ago, and not been able to remember what the fight was all about, to begin with?
Have you ever seen into the eyes of the really old and seen the peace within?
Have you ever sat alone and listened to silence?
Ever taken a long tired breath after a job well done?
Eaten oranges, succulent, sitting with your back to the sun, a shawl around your shoulders, on chilly winter afternoons?
Your heart ever beat just that little bit faster when October rolls around and you hear, borne on the breeze, the faint sounds of the 'Dholkis', creating magic?
Have you ever. for that matter, almost dozed off, during a particularly nasty class, on a summer afternoon, listening to a cicada in the distance?
Waited for Christmas to come around, again, just so you could have your fill of multi-flavored cakes?
Have you ever read a line in a book, that you feel like going back and reading a few times more?
Ever taken out paper cartons, full of old birthday cards and missed, afresh, all the friends who were so close, once?
Gone through old pictures in albums yellow with age but the colors of the times, captured in those photos, still full of vibrant life?
Have you ever wondered why you somehow never seem to have the carefree, happy laugh you used to,?
Have you ever found yourself wishing, that given a second chance you would do certain things differently?
Got up in a hurry, late, and wished you hadn’t ignored the alarm yet again?
Have you found yourself wondering why we tend to cling on to the past? Why we never do let go?
Have you ever answered yourself, that maybe this is because we all know, for sure, the past is all we really have?..
Have you ever laid yourself to sleep, wanting with all your heart, just to go back home, and cried because you have found that you cannot?

Grey and Bleak Anatomy,,,,,

Boy, I miss my Sunday night dates with the top slotted NBC show, "Greys' Anatomy". Anyways, I am back in my room, after an extra gruelling night shift, and with green goo on my face, am sitting down to write this, eyes stinging, mind you, but I better, since the afore mentioned 'goo' on my face needs a half-hour to dry out, and then only can I proceed to my bath, and then,,,,Sleep,,,,my pillow beckons,,.

Why the 'Goo'?,,I ask myself the same question, its not as if I am in a job which needs me to put on my best face, literally, in front of dozens of people that I meet, as a part of my job. Hardly, the only unlucky ones to have to forcibly share my company are the poor, poor Sisters, and of course my patients, and it is unlikely they will ever complain. In this aspect, Greys' Anatomy is so far removed from what lives we, or at least I lead, glamour doesn't even make an annual-festival-like entry into the scheme of things, whereas the cast of Greys' Anatomy are so well turned out, always, even when they are on so called hectic 24 hour shifts, their hair, make-up carefully done so as to convey the entire gamut of nobility and stress our jobs are supposed to entail,,Bollocks!!!

Then the lives they lead, Snogging each other, (thanx to J K Rowlings for the term, I love it), in aptly placed corners and broom cupboards, or sleeping with each other, when not making dramatic, life saving decisions or taking calls that could make or break families and careers,..Even the cafeteria food they have seems so much better than the 'upma-idli-sambar-dosa' mix and match combos on offer here. Then the clothes they wear on perfectly toned, buffed bodies, and they have the sheer gall to suggest that the Docs' in that blessed hospital even smell, let alone eat a Pizza!! Liars!!

Then they leave work to go back to these loft-like spacious, well co-ordinated apartments, and condos,,even the kitchenette looks much better, much more comfortable than the Fox-hole I come back to,,. To top it all is the all-year round, never ending Chic winter, you will have to agree with me on this, Winter IS the most glamorous season there is, you can go all out on your dresses, and Ensembles,,and then you look so much better, when you are coming in, huddled against the cold, the snow, hands deep n your pockets, bundled up, your face, in a tight close up, burdened with all the earthly problems of the multitudes,,.

We too go through these happenings, day in and day out, but not as beautifully or in as cozily chic a way as this. Our settings are far less pleasing to the eye, and our off duty, or for that matter even our on duty, off work hours, are so extremely not interesting, with un-buffed, over fed bodies in ill-fitting, ill-matched outfits,(dare I call them that?), hovering around you, there is so much solace in a book, its pages offering you better diversions,,so much easier to avoid a conversation, thus,,.Can you blame me?

How I wish I had the Address of that Glorious hospital in Television land, I could shift there for a residency,,THEN perhaps this 'Goo' that I have on my face would be put to some use,,,That reminds me, Yes! It is dry, I have got to go and take a bath,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

A wet love story,,,

It's raining, again, the again being said with stars in my eyes and a huge smile on my face,,you cannot even begin to understand the depths of my love affair with the rains. I have nothing but pleasant memories of the rains, how can one not? staying at a hill station? You are lashed by rains, for days on end, the only sound audible for hours, if you stopped to listen, would be the pattering on the roofs, the swaying noises the tree-tops made, lissomely dancing in the rains. There were drains running over their brims, streams and small springs overflowing, swollen up to resemble small rivulets, crashing over smooth boulders,,following a crazy twisted course, en-route to the lakes and rivers that abound, aplenty...

I still remember coming back from school on rainy Saturdays, umbrella shut and packed in the bag, taking the long-long road home, laughing, (more of giggling for me), with equally demented friends, and I can recall seeing people who were avid lovers of fishing, sitting swathed in their rain-gear, beside the huuuuge lake that was like the centrepiece of our town, patiently awaiting that one bite, while the fish frolicked away to glory, in the rains, just out of reach of the frustrated men, my father one among them, many a week-end.

'Khichdi' at dinner-times, on such stormy, rainy nights, intermittently illuminated by the electric bulb, and the kerosene lamp, for the inclement weather also meant an erratic electric supply, which sometimes took whole weeks, after the rains stopped to finally get repaired,,,mummy had to just hear someone mention 'rains' before she got that 'khichdi' look in her eyes, and I would reflect it, because I loved it too,,,,ummmmmm, a steming plate-full with crisp fried potato fingers, omlettes and Papad, my father, poor guy, used to get this martyr-like look on those days, as he was not a very big fan of this dish, being more the 'chapatti for dinner' kind,,but who used to go along because he used to love mum, still does for that matter, more than his chappati,, sorry Dad,,secret's out.

Then the singing,,,, after dinner sit arounds, in the veranda, watching the rains, when I performed on request, old songs, shrieked out at full pitch, to be heard over the noise on the roof-tops,,and my singing, like the tea I made, back then, were palatable to just a handfull of people, those who loved me, of course..

This love for the rains stayed with me and even under circumstances, where this was severely tested, back in Dibrugarh, where five minutes of rains would mean overflowing drains, uprolled trouser legs, and scary nights filled with hourly reports on the river Brahmaputra's current level, for this was a town, where the water level was always 3 to 4 feet above our heads, seperated from us by a 5 feet high dike,,,

I love the rains, everything to do with it, and I really believe, this is one affair that is going to last,,,,and last,,,,,,,,,

Star Dust and Dream Worlds

Magic, Fantasy (not the erotic kind, of course) and Dreams,,filled with Super-heroes, fantastical creatures and stories full of strife, struggle and tortured lives,,,all with one thing in common, the triumph of Good, the all prevailing message that is driven home by the end of all these Fables and tales.

But, why do we need them? Why do movies made on Spiderman, who is just another unhappy, 'different' kid, like you or me, well more like me than you in his geekiness, draw such a following? Well, just because he has the much lusted for power to set things right, at the end of what is, to him, just another day at the office. Yes, and maybe also because the fact that he would be as much of a loser, as the kid on the back benches, back at school, if it were not for those awesome powers he had. He goes through life smirking silently at those who think he's just another loser, many of whom, ironically enough , are saved by him from countless scruples, they get themselves into,,the girl whom every guy lusts for, salivates at his mere thought,,what more could he want,? at the end of the day, brushing his teeth, before going to bed, for I am sure even Super-heroes need to do that.

Super-heroes, Dragons, magic and Magical worlds are a way for us to fight things that would otherwise be much too overwhelming for us, a move to a new town, yet another 'F' at the Maths Test, Unsightly braces, a crop of Zits spouting up all over the face, just when you want to look your best for some all too important occasion,,at all those times when we feel ready to give up, and I have'nt written some of the more serious, and perhaps more genuine troubles here, intending to keep this post light, and not seem like yet another page from the Twilight Zone, an area all-too familiar with me and people who know me,,by the way, 'all too' seems to be all over the page;)

If not for these wonderful worlds and people, hovering in the land between the impossible and the 'could it happen?', life and its inherent pains would prove to be unlivable. Harry lets us escape into realms where the probabilities and possibilities are endless, Eragon lets us fight a myriad of evils, Hanuman leaps over, literally, all that stands in his way, The Borrowers make even the loneliest among us, never be really alone,,Spidey and Supey meanwhile take on the more global issues, making all of us safe, making all of us believe, every trouble, every gloom is transient,, and there is always someone very much like us, ordinary, from among our midst, maybe me or you,(ok, more you than me), who would put on a cape, or with the swish of a wand, a few choice magic spells thrown in, or riding on a fire-breathing, jewel-hued dragon,,,make things just perfect,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

Look, a falling star, let me make a wish, then perhaps when I wake up tomorrow, I will find myself sitting at the Gryffindor table, eating breakfast, a non-fattening one,,laughing at a joke my best fried Harry, not Hari made,,,,,;)

Meandering Thoughts

Cerulean blue, The colour of potted Forget-me-nots, Periwinkle,,,,,,,these are the words I would have used to describe the colour of the sky, today,,but since I am not gifted with such literary genius, I shall simply go ahead and say that what I saw today was a "September sky",,,There were white fluffy, mischievous clouds scudding to and fro, revelling in the day's beauty, nostalgia caught up, swept me away, back to similar skies in the past. The wind had a smell of festivities on it. Standing on my Hostel balcony, the wind seemed to whisper promises of joyful times ahead,.There are strains of old, old Hindi film hits wafting out of closed doors on my floor, I can hear the chink of glasses as friendly gossip provided the perfect company to a few rounds of even friendlier drinks,,,,Surely you cannot have lyrics to beat these,,Kishore Kumar simply ROCKED,,still does.

This is an utterly pointless and aimless post, I know,,but this is just the way I feel today,,aimlessly and pointlessly happy, nostalgic, a little bit Home-sick and a little bit anguished over the fact that I donot have anyone to share these moments with...