Blogpostcard to Santa

Dear Santa

What I would like for Christmas is some holiday spending money. And a holiday. And some free time. While you're at it, could you also throw in a nice brown-and-white splotchy cow with pretty eyes? Kinda like in the picture below:



Love, Poojo

PS: I have been a good girl all year round. And a troubled one at that. I deserve the gifts.

PSS: Merry Christmas in advance.

***

Wishing for boy-dom

Dressing up is a complete waste of time. Expensive also. Have always felt it and still do. It gives me palpitations. To the extent that sometimes I wish I were a boy. Then I'd wear one pair of jeans for one month, and own five pairs of tee-shirts. Bas. As it is I've no idea how to put eyeliner. And I'm like a shy guy in a lingerie store when it comes to eyeshadow, blush, foundation and the like.

I wish cosmetics were never invented only. And even fashion. Necessity?? Bah! Humbug! Buy me books, chips, mushrooms and movies instead any day!

Sigh. Stuck in the wrong body maybe?

Grumble

Nobody blogs anymore. :|

Why not, may I ask?

There is hardly ever anything to read from fellow bloggers. (Grumble grumble)

Also, I'm eyeing a Wordpress account. Need a nice name. With poojo in it. Suggestions please.

I miss

I miss Class XI. I miss that year. If there was any year I could go back to and live all over again, it would be the school year 2000-01. If there is any year that I look back on and remember tonnes of fun, and immense peace of mind, lots of little successes and a dozen great friends, its the year I was in Class XI.

Sometimes I wish I could go back there - where the only stress was exams (and hell, in retrospect, I liked giving them). And I wonder if life can ever be like that again. I don't know if it can. But it's nice to imagine.

Neverland, Wonderland - do we ever really grow out of those places? Will fairy tales ever cease to matter? Will Santa Claus ever feel like just another marketing gimmick. I hope not.

Class XI was one of those years when everything turned out just fine in the end. 2009 just doesn't have the same touch to it. Hopefully, 2010 will be a whole new story.

Another 'Dhurrrr'

I'm feeling rather pointless. This is a continuation of the earlier post. Another of those 'What am I doing?' whines. I like my job on the good days. I can whiz through with nervous energy on the bad ones. But the neither-here-neither-there days just get my goat. And the new work timings aren't helping either.

"Sure," you say, "Blame it on the timings again."

Dhurrr

Most times, we get so comfortable in this horribly blah existence. Hutt. And then you suddenly wake up from that drowsy, dull existence and wonder, "What am I doing?"

Spare me the big words

Big words, long words, convoluted sentences designed to impress -- aargh! They make me so mad!

Who are you writing for? Academics!? Even the best of those folks write simply. Monosyllables speak so much better than those long-winded polywollysyllables. Aantlami? Nonsense and bluster is all it is. The real aantels write stuff that even class 2 girls in fountain-y ponytails can read. And then you can't call them aantels anymore, can you now?

I saw a monkey

First thing in the morning that too. I woke up. Sat up. Looked out of the window. In precisely that order. And there it was sitting on the tree branch outside, its long tail hanging down.

"That's really a long tail," I said to myself, more astonished by the length of its tail than by the sight of a monkey in the heart of Golpark.

I rubbed my eyes to see clearer, planning to reach out for the phone camera next.

But the rubbing broke the dream. It wasn't a monkey at all.

A crow stared back at me from the branch.

Sigh.

I hardly blog anymore. Have lost the habit I suppose. A random blog here. Another there. And then I sit on it and forget Triple G exists. And I miss blogging too. Perhaps that explains the numerous visits to see if one more person has commented. Or speed reading through one or the other blog, meaning to comment and never finding the time thereafter. I'd like to make this a 'I must blog everyday' resolution post. But I'm not sure I can promise it to me. Sigh.

Make way please

"Make way. Make way. Let me pass."

It was an authoritarian, female voice accompanied with a light tinkling and heavy steps. She clearly had somewhere to go. Some place important. And she was late.

Almost a score of people in holiday mode were crowding the pavement, admiring the little lake off the main road. But she brought them to attention. They lined up horizontally (without any rehearsal whatsoever), keeping the lake behind them, making way for her to pass.

As for her, she looked neither left nor right, briskly walking straight ahead, the bells on her collar tinkling on. This, my friends, was a cow on a mission.

Black Rose

A flower dropped into my lap today. But the black threw me off. As a disguise, it worked brilliantly. Until Rosie smiled and unintentionally let slip a glimpse of her little rosebud mouth. That's when I worked it out.

Panchami made me famous

Yes. It did.

I practically ran away from office with the Sengupta Brothers to go pandal hopping. We braved a fullish metro (I've been in worse, and still worse is expected in the Pujas).

The first pandal we saw also had a canine visitor who travelled there by rickshaw, with master and master's nine-year-old daughter in tow.

Where we became famous was at Deshopriyo Park. Star Ananda caught the three of us heading to a Tora Tora type ride, which turned you round and round six times only (though it seemed much more). I suspect we were also caught on camera by some print publication while checking out Ma Durga's fancy saree. But I've no reports to that effect, so really can't be sure.

Mew

I spoke to two cats today. They were walking along the wall that forms the view from my window.

I saw one first and mewed. White with black ears. He stopped, and gave me a long searching stare which said, "Well, so you called me. Now what?" I stared back blank. He waited a moment and was going along his way, when I mewed once more. He stopped again - hoping to be invited in for a tidbit. But I had none to spare. He guessed as much and walked on by. I'd already wasted enough of his time.

The second was younger; grey and white. I mewed. He stopped too, but had to follow big brother up ahead. He gave me a look and walked on by.

I might collect something for them to eat one of these days. Once I get the fridge working.

Black

A black horse off Central Avenue isn't a common sight on a Sunday afternoon. And having an equally black naked man following on the heels of the black horse is rarer still.

I wish Otter were around. That'd have made for a prize-winning photo.

Lizzy sighted

I saw the underside of a lizard's head today. I mistook it for a pointy strip of white painted metal at first, till I saw it moving. I think lizzy had swallowed an insect right then, kop kore.

Green Box Life

I'll soon be moving into a place of my own. It's a little box. A cute box. And to mark the occasion, I'm starting another blog: The Green Box Life. Do drop by sometime.

N.B.: But GGG will carry on anyway, with or without the new blog.

Lullaby to me

Going to keep this short. I'm supersleepy and greatly addicted to Typing Maniac on FB. I'm not even terribly good at it. I've been cranky and spaced out for much of the evening. Now, I feel better. I wish the buses would not be so crowded. I'm getting a little tired of worrying about commutes. A cat turned at my mew today. And I saw people playing chess below the Gariahat flyover, just beside the loo. Some blogger had written about it a year back - either Dreamy or Onnesha I think. Well, I've finally seen it. I'm not hungry, but I feel like some chips or momos about now. Nite nite.

In search of a bear hug

Sometimes, I feel superior to everyone else. Happens pretty often. It's not always a wonderful feeling, but it's not terrible either.

People advise. But you don't want it. People sympathise. But you don't want that either. People try to get into your shoes - but hell, it's not one size fits all.

There are stories and there are stories. Some aren't mine to tell. Some are, but I don't want to tell them - not to everyone, maybe not even to anyone. So many stories, and yet the ones you record, aren't quite real. Fiction is so much happier and just than real life - so much easier to understand.

I wish my father were Baloo the Bear. But he's not. And life goes on.

Tea

There's something special about earthen pots and ginger tea - something that goes missing in the mug. Except that one time on a bandh day when the chaiwala puts his all into pleasing his solitary group of customers with the steaming brown liquid in a dettol-washed glass.

The bhaanrs are so hot to touch, that all concentration is on not dropping the tea - you don't want to get scalded. You blow softly over the surface, wondering if some khaari biscuits with coconut stuffing could be an add-on. You sip slowly, gingerly, taking care not to burn your tongue. The sips get larger, till you're left emptying the contents down your throat. And then you tilt the bhaanr and strain for the last drop.

It's peaceful.

There should be more things like this.

Untitled

What's great about a blog, is that if you word it right, no one will guess what you're really talking about. I guess, the written word does offer a sense of privacy that the spoken one tends to take away.

Yesterday I entered a condom store and emerged out with a bed pan. Today I spoke to a man who feels like a woman.

It's been an eventful month minus the value judgements.

PS: Today's my 1-year anniversary. Gifts are welcome. Cash please.

PSS: Also the famous Chomu Kunda's budday.

Bad month blues

This has been a terrible month. And its my birthday month also. Things have been so bad, that they can't possibly get very much worse. I'm exhausted to the littlest mitochondriums in my system. I need a 1-month holiday. But my official leaves are soon going to be fucked up completely. And I currently have no money to call my own. Sigh. So much to think about. So much to stress you out. Life at 25 doesn't seem like fun at all.

Welcome to my official quarter-life crisis.

On the bright side, at least my favourite season is here.

Unofficial Review: Madly Bangalee

The official review of Madly Bangalee is up on ILK. Here comes the link: http://www.ilovekolkata.in/index.php/Movies/-Madly-Bangalee-A-review.html

Roshni I think did a hell of a good job in the movie. That's really what she should be doing. More than anything else. I got all teary-eyed and very proud seeing her in some of the scenes in the film. I'm secretly glad I didn't get to meet her after the movie, I wouldn't have been able to say a word. It's kind of hard to put it into words, but I'm very very very proud of her. (But for future reference, it's kinda weird sitting next to mother of actor-friend when a steamy or even vaguely steamy scene is on. To be avoided.)

Btw... my unofficial review is that the film is lovely. It's complex but seems managed so simply. And I adore the songs. Neel Dutt - who cares if you look like a cartoon character I don't quite remember - some of those songs are unbelievable.

Watch the movie for:
1) The scene with Neon and his drunk father, where old man tells his son to stay away from addiction.
2) Anjan Dutt. Especially the first song he sings. The dancing with Lew Hilt is lotsa fun.
3) Neel's songs and everyday scenes from Kolkata - Dharmatala, AJC Bose Road Flyover seemed quite popular.
4) Baaji's religion-identity speech & the scenes with Benji and Joy's mother.
5) My friend is in it!
6) My another-friend is in it. See if you can spot her.

Fresh beginnings

I'd like to start over. For everything. Like going to the start of the race again, despite having run a third already. Like ending a mobile Sudoku game midway because it's not going to be a Hall of Fame score this time anyway, so why not start anew with a record-breaker in sight.

There's this official review that I have to write tomorrow. Will follow it up with an unofficial one - I'd like to. One of my bestest friends is in the movie - and jolly good in it too.

Para 2 is not related to Para 1. Just more of my disjointed thoughts.

In Thane, I once saw a rainbow - the whole deal - from end to end. I wrote about it somewhere, don't remember where. But if ever there was a message from God, this was it. I don't know what the message was, just that not everyone gets to see the whole rainbow stand atop a field for almost 15 minutes while you walk towards it, and it takes its time, but it slowly fades away.

In Thane, there was this star that I used to look at. I don't see it here. The pollution keeps it hidden away.

In Kolkata, there's this Rooster that crosses my road everyday. Yesterday he was with a hen, and my day was goodish. Today, he shat while crossing - I think that wasn't such a good omen.

I like

Gloomy weather. I like.
Barely-there drizzles. I like.
Empty houses. I like.
Episode after episode of Criminal Minds. I like.
Packets of Cheetos to go with it. I like.
I just wish I could find some chocolates somewhere.
Then life would be almost perfect.

Poojo's Pre-Poll Post

Another edition of the Indian General Elections comes to town. Another year that leaves you with choices that aren't choices at all - choices between the devil and the deep blue sea - conversations that veer around "the devil you know to the devil you don't". Jaagore doesn't really help after a point. It tells you to go and vote. Doesn't quite help you decide who to vote for, and more importantly, why.

If anything, this will be a coming of age election for me. I guess I've come a long way from voting for the one that seems the most harmless. Not a good idea really - just another wasted vote. You could as well be casting the neutral vote. Yes, I'm completely against the "None of the above" option – I think it's just another excuse to pass the buck and let other people make the choice for you. Why? So you can sit smug that you've voted and complain about the rowdies that have come to power?

Every party's got its share of goons, corruption, dirty politics. There's no guarantee that one or the other will really make a difference. It's all so very circumstantial - tomorrow could go any which way. A bomb dropped a country away, a bankruptcy a continent away, and there you have it - equations changing like numbers and symbols gone bonkers. Politicos take U-turns - whatever works, right.

"Politics is the art of possibilities". Who was it who said that? Buddhababu I think, while talking about a possible post-poll alliance with the Congress. Yeah, the same Congress that's currently hobnobbing with Buddhadadu's arch rival, Mamatadidi. It's supposedly all for the greater good.

After a point, they'll all be the same. But it's five years of my future, of the future of my city, my country. So I'll be voting for people I trust - at least, people I trust a little more than the others - silver strands and heavy speeches being hardly a factor. I'll be voting for sensible people, efficient people, clean people, responsible people, and well-intentioned people - at least the people who seem that way from my perspective.

I could be wrong.

I could be very, very wrong. But at least, I'll know I counted.

And democracies have changed governments, people have voted wisely several times over. What number general election is this? I can't quite remember. It runs into double digits - that much I know. Beyond that, it's just a number. But then, elections are all about numbers - the number of seats, the number of candidates, the number of political allies, the number of paramilitary forces, the number of booths, the number of election-based shows, the number of votes.

I am just a number too.

But as long as I count, it's worth it.

251

That's for lack of a better idea for a headline.

I'm really tired today. Maybe it's because I scared a lizard. He was taking a stroll on my office terrace floor around the same time as I decided a trip to the loo was needed. He stopped in his tracks and played dead. I gave him a curious look to see if he really was. He didn't move. I walked ahead and looked behind - he was scooting across to the wall, completely relieved that the danger was past.

Sometimes I wonder why lizards scare me so much.

I'm really really tired. And I've got this awesome story to do -- just not enough time to get my brain cells around it.

And. And. Anyone who says History is boring has just not read the right books.

Happy 250

I didn't realise till a few minutes ago, but this is my Happy 250th post. 2nd happy birthday of blog also coming up.

Which brings me to my budday plans. I heading to M'bai. There's talk of Goa, but I think I'd rather lol around the house, meet friends, ex-bosses and ex-colleagues and basically have a nostalgia trip. But I'm still undecided.

Oooh.. I had dinner at One Step Up last night. The Chicken Paprika was yumm, though it gave me a runny tummy.

Do I give too many details?

I half want a Dev R Nil dress for my budday. But I don't think that's gonna happen.

But new mini laptop might soon be mine. Poppa has been offering.

While I'm still rambling, Shreya has new pup - Labrador. It's tingu and has big feet and elderly eyes. I like him.

And see this mew:

'Good Day' bulletin

I like blogging daily (or at least almost daily). It keeps me happy. And it's nice to see a bunch of comments below the post every so often. Correct that: it's very nice.

Today has been a good day.

For starters, the heat hasn't been as unbearable except for the tea-time outing which brought us back sweating like boars - or am I just getting used to it?

Second, I spoke to Shubha Mudgal :) It was telephonic, but what the hell. She has a lovely tinkling laugh. Remember, you heard that from me first.

Third, (though this happened before the Shubha interview) I found long-lost childhood friend in auto and we exchanged numbers. She lives almost in my para as it turns out.

Fourth, I finally uploaded a photo gallery that I'm happy with and proud of. Here's the link: Jeet-Koel: Match made in Tollywood. If for nothing else, check out Koel. She looks lovely in the pics.

Fifth, this is a nice long blog. If only, there was something more exciting than pumpkin waiting for me at dinner. But then, this heat kills the appetite anyway.

Of ACs and cows

Uff... long day. Nearly 10 hours. Tomorrow's going to be longer. But the AC in office is godsend. For a change I'm not even grumblebumming about the long day.

There was something I wrote down this morning to copy-paste here, but it is not to be found. I also heard this awesome cow song: http://travel.webshots.com/video/3099383350079233465

I have this fascination for cows. I want to own one called Daisy someday to ride to work. Just hope she doesn't get scared off by the crazy autos at Chandni.

I wish I were a fish

I got 5 comments 24 hours after my long-delayed post-Holi post. What can I say? I'm touched and I feel happy inside.

It's been a crazily busy day at work, but the good kind. I'll go home whistling. Hell, I already am. ilovekolkata.in is getting a new look :)

Today was one of those days when I really really wanted to get to work. The AC was the bait on this 40-plus-degree day, and I bit it.

I wish I were a fish. My boyfriend is one. But he has no fins. Moo is one too, but with a name like Moo, who would ever believe it.

S.O.S. call

I need truckloads of money. And even more free time. Then I will sit and write an earthshakingly brilliant bestselling book that will bring me still more truckloads of money.

Sigh. Such a nice dream come true that would be.

I'm blogging from work. A first this is. What this means is though, that long posts are a no-no. I would like to do this daily, or on alternate days or even weekly. But sigh... Work seems to have wound me around its crafty l'il finger, and I'm too gutless currently to unentangle myself.

Somebody please rescue me. Send in your donations. I need to get those trucks loaded.

Holi-day

Man I miss playing Holi. The hullabaloo, the colours, the shrieks, the confusion - I love it. And I love that you can wear you're worst (read: most comfortable) clothes and no one will judge you for it.

Nobody seems to play Holi these days. Lack of people to play with is the No.1 excuse (it's mine too). And then comes, (2) the colours these days are terribly toxic, (3) that one off-day I need to catch up on sleep, (4) that's for the kids (I'm too old now), (5) other. There's no dearth of excuses when it comes to Holi - including, 'I don't want to be molested by the para changras'.

Sigh, life just gets complexer and complexer as the years move on. Some people sleep their Holis away, others watch from the safety of their fourth floor windows, still others watch TV and snack, and some turn to their blogs.

But look on the bright side: It's Holi and I have a holi-day. So yay!

Welcome March

It's been awhile since I've been here. An almost constant state of depression has kept me away. But now -- and I'm NOT trivialising this -- now, I've rediscovered chocolate. You just need to be feeling sufficiently unhappy about life to really appreciate the magic of chocolate -- and now, since life is not being terribly pleasant, I'm gorging on chocs. So far, it's working. And getting fat is far from my mind.

It's been an eventful February that's brought on many hurried decisions -- made and changed. It was an emotionally charged month with many deep breaths and too many complaints. I'm glad March is here. Emotional isn't my gig really. I always thought I was the Phoebe Buffay type -- flakey, wise, a little blonde in the head, armed with a guitar I can't play, and a smelly cat that my boyfriend insists is gay. But February proved (to me at least) that I'm not as detached as I'd always made myself believe. Luckily, the month is over. A new chapter begins. Welcome home, March.

Today's random fact

I like digging my nose.

Yes. That's the 'gross fact of the day' as well.

:D

Randomly

Major repairs happening in the main bathroom. It looks like a cemetry. Grandma is hence refusing to sleep in her usual room :D

Met an interesting dog-feeding sadhu on the bus who claimed who claimed he used to be a neta at one time. Now he's just 'chhera faata'. (I didn't meet him meet him... but he was on the bus with me, seated a few seats away)

I found a stray I'd like to feed. I'm not an activist type like Shreya, so I can't just feed kuttas from the goodness of my heart. But I like this one. So starting tomm maybe I'll get her some biscuits - if I see her again that is. She's all ribs it seemed to me.

House hunting

I'm in the mood to buy a house. 1 BHK. I don't have the money. I'll have to take a loan, make my father stand gurantor, and find a cheap house. Centrally located. Within the city (Kolkata). No suburbs please. Consider this a 'Flat Wanted' ad. Lemme know if you know of any. I'm interested.

My best story yet

And here's the link: Obama visits Kolkata: The Mamata chapter

This has been a very very good day. I'm almost scared that this will not last. When Shreya had told me this maybe a month earlier, I'd thought to myself: what a pessimist. Now I get what she was saying.

This is a delicate state of affairs. This good luck thing. Santa? This be the gift of peace I asked for?

Aaaargh!

This is proving to be one crazy year man. There's crisis after crisis after crisis after crisis. Fuckity-fuck-fuck totally. Imagine me sitting at my computer with electrocuted hair, pausing between typings to wrench out the burnt out (once-upon-a-time) tresses.

Dear Mr. Santa Claus,

I know I didn't bother with that pre-Christmas I-want-this-and-that letter to you last December. And I don't know if you also deal in luck, but I'd like some please. Some super-duper-trooper good luck and a few 24-hour days of utter peace. Make that a week at least. I've been very good for a long time now. I think I deserve it.

Lotsa lowe and big hug

Poojo

Slumdog: Super-duper-short review

So I watched the rest of Slumdog Millionaire. Somehow, the second half wasn't quite as brilliant as the first, nosediving as it did into a very Bollywood climax and happily-ever-after ending. Does it deserve an Oscar? I'm not sure. Would I watch it again? Quite likely.

Random clucks

The problem with blogging often is that you run out of things to say. And there isn't any interesting Mamata-Banerjee-or-otherwise news that I can latch on to. Even the autos, two-stroke, three-stroke and four-stroke seem to be running as before though I seem to have converted to bus travel even as the three-wheelers fight to avoid LPG conversion.

The other day I had to write this office blog about 'the hazards of auto travel'. Now, being a great fan of auto reeskaaz, it isn't easy to jot down all the bad bad things about them. But what to do, when your boss says, 'write blog', you jolly well 'write blog'. Here be the link.

I've been listening to Western classical music of late: Beethoven, Bach, Handel, the works. I'm on my way to becoming a true-blue aantel. If only I could acquire a taste for ciggies. Then I'd be ekdum fit.

Oh, and I watched half of Slumdog Millionaire. Saying 'it's awesome' would kinda dilute the effect. But yeah, since I'm not in review-writing mode, that's what I'm going to say.

One of my cats is on heat and meowling all night long. All through the day too, I expect, but since I'm not home mostly, it doesn't matter to me. But at night when I'm dying to snooze I don't want 'meowee meowee' reverberating (yes, that's the exact word) through the room. I've been seriously considering sticking cellotape across her mouth for awhile now.

Btw... I read this strange book: Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. It's a good book, but more strange than good. Got to do with the idea of human clones being people too. And its a story about love, friendship and coming of age.

My resolution has been threatening to get broken of late, but if I can carry on with it till Valentine's Day, it should become permanent I guess.

---> :D

After a long time, I felt that my job is rather worthwhile. I'm not sure how long this feeling will last. Going by past experience, not very long. But it is a good feeling. Part of the new realisation may be due to my New Year's resolution - Episode 24 (my ever-increasing age) not to worry.

I've finally found the secret to successfully keeping New Year's resolutions. And I'm going to type this just once. So read carefully.

The secret to successfully following a New Year's resolution is to find one that is sufficiently difficult to keep, something that you have to do constantly, and something that, if kept, provides far more benefit than the mere satisfaction of having adhered to that resolution.

Aunty Poojo has been saying very wise things of late. Particularly to the blogger named Solo, who recently had a scratch on her cornea and has in her last post put up adorable pictures of her cat Gin and dog Pyro. Here's the link.

I've this post in mind that I'm preparing in my head. If all goes well, it should be up here soon-ish. But no promises.

There was something meaningful that I wanted to write, but its flown outta of the window. However, Arsenal just scored a goal against Bolton. So you may cheer :D

Financial worries

Money is a terribly worrying thing. But I have resolved to not be a worry-wart this year, so I shall not grumble about not having enough just yet. Money comes, money goes. I shall not stress over it as long as I have 20k in my bank. Once it dips below that, then I shall start getting panicky.

I was reading in the papers about this 74-year-old German billionaire who threw himself in front of a running train because his business hasn't been looking too hot in the recent past. And then there's this whole fiasco over at Satyam -- son of farmer becomes top corporate honcho becomes fraud.

Money is a terrible evil. Too much trouble. Most crimes are also caused by money. I wish we could all go back to growing cauliflowers and clobbering mammoths on the head for meat. Okay, so maybe cavemen drag cavewomen by their hair, but maybe that's not such a bad thing.

But I don't think cavepeople grew cauliflowers.

I saw a bus burn today

I did. And I took a video of it which is up on ilovekolkata.in. In the process I also learnt one of the first tenets of videojournalism (is that what they call it?): Do not talk while the camera rolls. Do not. Do not. Do not. And certainly do not carry on conversing while the cops disperse the crowds and the fire engines clang-clang there way into the line of fire and set free gallons of smoke that billow into verandahs housing curious onlookers.

Here are excerpts of the thoughts that were lost during the video editing process:

1.Bells are a ringing. The fire engines appear in the camera's line of vision.
Poojo (Suppressing a 'Yay'): The whadya-call-it's come. The domkol I mean.

2. As smoke covers the face of the camera and threatens to come home for lunch.
Poojo: There's so much smoke.
Shreya's dad (Not in response to my tidbit): The cops are dispersing the crowd.
Poojo: Oh. Is that tear gas? Haw!
Poojo (Realising no tears have appeared and noticing that the firemen are rushing around with their massive hose): Oh. It's the firemen at work.
Shreya: Papa abhi aapko maarenge.

For a girl that's supposed to be soft-spoken and who doesn't talk too much, I must've broken a record somewhere... all in the course of one exclusive ILK video that happened due to very very good luck. (Psst: Our official photographer turned up much after the flames had died a fireman-wrought death in this not-so-bitter cold.)

Two buses in the Park Circus area had been burnt on Saturday morning. Excitingly enough (or scarily enough), the third bus was torched a bare two minutes after I crossed the flyover. Even before I rang the bell outside Shreya's house's door, the bus was ablaze. She gave me this horrified look: 'You came through all that?'
Poojo: All what?
Shreya: They burnt the bus. You didn't see?
Poojo: What bus? Where bus? I was looking for a burning bus. There was no bus when I came. I crossed in front of a truck.
Shreya: How come? I saw it burning just as you pressed the doorbell.
Poojo: Haw!
Shreya: There were all these changra boys on the street...
Poojo: I crossed the road with the changra boys. I thought they were there to catch all the action.

The theory Shreya and I now hold is that I crossed with the bus burners.
Poojo's reaction to the above-mentioned theory: Whoa!

What I want to know is how they did it. No one was hurt. Well, not enough anyway to warrant a line that goes: 'Auto operators protesting the High Court ban on two-stroke autos torched a bus on the Park Circus flyover injuring 7 including a child.' Thankfully, that did not happen. But what this meant was, these dudes had to wait for me to enter Shreya's building, find a state bus coming their way, get all the people out, set fire to the box on wheels, and have it blazing away by the time I rang Shreya's doorbell. My theory is that these guys weren't just angry, insecure auto drivers fighting for their livelihood. I think these were professional fire-setting bastards... the kind that are ordered to start mob riots in all those movies where Shakti Kapoor plays a villain politician.

It's not funny though. No political party ought to be allowed to disturb the peace like this. Hunger strikes, factory sieges, and simply sitting outside the CM's house (ostensibly braving the cold. hah!) are just either destructive or irritating tactics. We don't want strikes or slugfests. Give us a solution Ms. Banerjee. It may be a tad unfair to say all the violence is thanks to TMC-backed cadre; it's very likely that CITU Men and Co. are also involved, but somehow, the blamegame always comes back to Mamata Di. Did you know she's been trying to sign her name as 'Mamataa' these days? A Jayalalithaa-like numerological try at the Chief Minister's post. Hah! Fat chance missy. The Left may not be the best option in this so-called democracy of ours where no party is worth a vote, but at least it has a respectable grey-haired Buddha Babu of Palm Avenue to earn our respect even if its folks go around majorly troubling folks in the Nandigrams and Singurs of Bengal. It's not a great option. But at least there's a main man that you can respect and look up to, even if he makes mistakes every now and again.

This post wasn't meant to kick off the Left's pre-election campaign, though it seems to have turned out that way. I'm just pissed off with Mamata's 'Aaj ka gundaraj' style of politics. I wish she'd turn her attention to the terror problem. So the next time terrorists get into some hotel in the country, let's send Mamata to plonk outside till her demands are met. Demands that probably even she will not know. She should soon manage to terrorise the terrorists into surrendering for all eternity. Mamata should be our weapon in the war against terror. At least for this cause she has my vote.

Btw, here's the link to the bus burning video by yours truly: Bus burns in auto-ban protest. And that's Shreya doing the voiceover.

There's been a change in plans

I spend too much time doing things I dislike and too little doing things I enjoy. So there's been a major change in my daily routine which is being propped up by a new New Year's Resolution; one that I had a tough time keeping through most of yesterday. The resolution is that I will worry no more. I've recently developed this tendency to keep going over and over the same things 144 times a day till I'm almost a basket case. I'm not doing that anymore. So whenever a nasty thought enters my head I start thinking of my next fix and voila! I'm stressed no more (at least temporarily).

The New Year concept is kinda silly for Kolkata weather. It comes bang smack in the middle of winter (if you can call this winter). But it gives you a chance to start a new MS Excel sheet for accounts. And a chance to say 'Go away' to all the nastiness of last year. Psychology is a strange subject truly.

This post is quite a rambler. Haven't been posting much at all of late. Blogging is one of the things I do like you see. Even if I type on about nothing in particular. So if my resolution survives me, GGG should see a post population explosion in the coming months.

PS: Going to work is going to be even more irritating with the auto problem these days. There are too many angles to this story... but for starters, I seriously think Mamata should start a bigshit company called Miscellany Bachao Committee. After Krishijomi Bachao and Auto Bachao, this could become an entrepreneur's dream in the TV18 scheme of things. She could even buy up the Nano Bachao Committee and steal the patents, copyrights, trademark, ya-da-ya-da-ya-da.