The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry

When despair for the world grows in me
and I wake in the night at the least sound
in fear of what my life and my children's lives may be,
I go and lie down where the wood drake
rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.
I come into the peace of wild things
who do not tax their lives with forethought
of grief. I come into the presence of still water.
And I feel above me the day-blind stars
waiting with their light. For a time
I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

— Wendell Berry

Of crises

As far as uneasy feelings go, this is a new one for me. I first recognised it when I was sitting in a bus and I had nothing to do. Usually, I have a book for company but I forgot to carry one this time. My calm and peace were getting increasingly disturbed and after some time there was none. I needed to do something real bad. That something need not have been towards a productive pursuit, I might as well have browsed through the latest edition of Stardust magazine.

That's when I realised that I can't be content just sitting by myself. The full impact of this revelation about my persona took some time to adjust to. I wasn't always like this. There were many winter afternoons in Delhi, when I could just sit in the verandah doing nothing and be perfectly calm. That's what got me thinking, why is it so ? Maybe it's the education ? Maybe it's the media ? Perhaps it's the modern civilization ? perhaps it's the effect of my peer ? ..... and on and on, I kept thinking about all the possibilities, exercising my mind about why I can't sit quietly and think. Why is it so difficult to just wait ? .... and Hola, guess what, my destination arrived and I obliviously returned to my ways of doing stuff. It was only when I got some spare time again, and I started feeling uncomfortable again, that I got reminded of my thought exercise and decided to pen this blog.

Basu a.k.a Ditcher

Never in the history of ditching has there been one greater.

Please let us observe a moment of silence.

This is an excerpt from a speech delivered by world leaders

"
Mr. Vice President, Mr. Speaker, Members of the Senate, and of the House of Representatives:

Yesterday, June 20th, 2009 -- a date which will live in infamy -- the members of Emerald Top Floor were suddenly and deliberately attacked by ditching forces of the Vile mindset of Saurabh Basu.

The ETF was at peace with that this ditcher, at the solicitation of Basu, was still in conversation with its rationality and its emperor looking toward the maintenance of peace in the ETF.

....

..
"

Btw.. I ripped it off from FDR speech after Pearl Harbour bombing

Corrupt officials vs unscrupulous gentry

Seems like all my posts of late have been to do with blaming someone. Either the bureaucracy, the people, something or the other. So here's one more post on the same flavor.

It's very difficult to book a train ticket nowadays. Unless you know well in advance ( ~ 2months ) about your exact plans, don't expect to make a comfortable journey. Well, I suffered the same fate and did not get an AC ticket. I'm not trying to sound super borgeois here. Indian summers are really tough otherwise. But, I did get a reserved ticket and that was good fate enough. So, the train rattled on through the great Deccan plateau towards the port city of Chennai. I was getting cooked, as if on a slow spit, such is life. I was just about dozing off when I heard some commotion. There was an angry quarrel between some passengers and the railway ticket officials ( called TTs).

There were about four of these troublemakers versus three TTs dressed in their official garb. What followed was a tirade of abuses, shouting, shoving and finally the ringleader of the troublemakers threatened to pull the 'emergency stop chain'. Meanwhile a crowd of sorts (including me) had accumulated and were looking on intently at the proceedings, never passing a chance to have some free entertainment. Just as we thought there was going to be some real action, the argument ended and both parties proceeded to amicably utter platitudes about cooperation, compromise and the Indian favourite, 'Adjust'. I was pretty surprised at the turn of events. I didn't expected the TTs who are supposed to be the upholders of all that is true and fair in the world of trains to buckle down like that. After all, those four goons were illegal freeloaders who had gotten on the train without reservations.

Luckily, I was rescued from my growing perplexity by a co passenger. The deal was this. The TTs were corrupt and these four members of the public had no scruples. The TTs had apparently had taken bribes and these guys had gotten on without reservations. The lesson was that the guilty protecteth the guilty. that is another one of my negative stories blaming someone. and ya Jai Hind..!

My name UNKNOWN (Part 2 )

This is a followup blog from my previous blog titled 'My name UNKNOWN (Part 1)'

So after a lot of panicking and fretting about, I had decided to go down to the Trichy passport office to get my passport amended. My search on the internet revealed to me that there were a plethora of options to get it done and each one more different than the other. It seemed like nobody knew what the system was, or rather each one had their own interpretation of what the system ought to be.

So, I rejoiced. I hoped that lady luck would smile upon me. And ....... I was wrong.

The Trichy passport office people had their own version of doing things. Totally different from the rest of India and not surprisingly the most screwed up as well. They basically commanded me to apply for a new passport, complete with reams of documents and making my pocket about Rs 3 Grand lighter. I essentially felt helpless. It seemed like Trichy was under the regime of some psycho monarch, who somehow did not believe that his domain came under the jurisdiction of the Republic of India.

And I had to oblige. After lots of running around. Getting tonnes of xeroxes, signatures from profs, affidavits from lawyers, talking to old people, I was ready and armed.

I headed down to the passport office, early in the morning, stood in the line, did everything they asked me to, and a couple of hours later, I was out. Sans my old passport but with a receipt that guaranteed a new passport with the correct details. And my my, the new passport arrived in the mail in just two days...!!!! ( :D :D :D )

Honestly, tears came to my eyes, when I held the beauty in my eyes. However unnerving the entire experience was, holding the new passport in my hands was totally worth it. Jai Ho...!!!

Senti Blog

Disclaimer : This is a senti blog. Be advised.

How long I have waited for this day to arrive. Now that it has arrived, somehow the sheen seems to have worn off. I wish I could feel otherwise but the truth is that I don't want to leave. I wish the end were somehow delayed.

I never thought that I would end up feeling this way. It's not that I am all steel inside. I am susceptible to the emotions of separation too. But, for NITT, never thought it would happen. Having spent the major part thinking of my undergraduate life as a passing phase, planning for the next better part, I thought leaving this place would be a breeze. That clearly wasn't the case. I'm surprised, that I couldn't see in plain view, how much of an impact these four years have had on me.

I learnt what true friends look like. I learnt that ragging is not such a big deal. I learnt how to keep my chin down. I saw extreme brilliance, total dedication, complete madness and true passion. I met people from all walks of life. I realised that it was OK to have an opinion. I realised that there will always be some people won't like you (god bless them) and there will be those who you can count on no matter what. I came a wide eyed boy and left slightly wiser.

I have no hesitation in proclaiming this an end of an era. Truly the end of an era. Everything will be so much different from now on. I have a PAN card, I am liable to be taxed. "You are an adult now", that's the message screamed at you from a million directions. Ya, I know it's all a part of growing up. And some of you oldies, who have been there done that, will be probably be quietly smiling to yourselves and thinking, "there goes another guy, getting all senti".

Well this is me. All senti.

My name UNKNOWN ( Part 1 )

As is the case with many young folk in the subcontinent, I have been smitten by the desire to 'study some more'. And as is the case with most young folk, I have decided to 'study some more' in the US. Well all was seemingly going on the right track, when one day I received an email from the university I will be heading to. Apparently following the guidelines of the US department of homeland security, they thought that there was something wrong with my name.

There was certainly no 'Mohammed' nor any 'Singh' in my name. So I was evidently surprised. At first, my surprise turned into laughter. Seriously, I thought it was very funny. The thing is this:

My name is 'Subhodeep Moitra'.
First name 'Subhodeep'
Surname 'Moitra'.

The problem is in my passport. Due to some historical 'F***ups' and some quirks in the thought process of south Indian passport officials , my surname field is blank in my passport and my whole name 'Subhodeep Moitra' is entered in the given name column. This is absolutely unacceptable to the protocol driven folk in the US. Not having a surname is a mortal sin. I was all ready to brush it aside as a trivial issue when I thought I should talk to the univ people. What transpired in that five minute conversation shook my establishment and destroyed my peace and feeling of well being for the next few weeks.

They told me that I basically had two options.
1. Amend the name in my passport.
2. Go ahead with no surname and face the consequences.

Both options were actually no options

1. Amending the passport was an impossibility. My previous experience(2 years ago) with the Indian passport office at Trichy had left me so bitter that I had sworn never to step back into that dungeon.

2. Not doing anything about my name was even more sucky. I could go ahead and apply for my visa but the US embassy guys would do something really clever. They would shift my entire name 'Subhodeep Moitra' into the surname column and put a FNU (First name unknown) stamp on my visa. And since the passport and the visa are the only two documents that the folk in the US recognize, I would be known as 'Mr FNU Subhodeep Moitra' for the rest of my life. And the best part is that all this name correction business could not be done in the US. Once you landed there, you would be FNU.

Imagine, my predicament. I was seriously nursing the idea of being FNU. Imagine what my friends would say, "Hey meet my best buddy, his name is UNKNOWN". And at other more personal moments, if I scream "say my name, say my name..!", an "FNU..!" would certainly dampen the proceedings. Certainly not a rosy prospect. Plus there are other more serious issues as well that cannot be compromised with, such as refusing to be granted a SSN (Social security number), driving licence, etc.

So after much delibration, lots of googling and going through edu forums I decided to go in for name correction.

More on my experiences at the Trichy passport office in the next blog titled 'My name UNKNOWN ( Part 2 )

Tales from the General Compartment

So it happened. I no longer retain my general compartment virginity. Didn't plan for it to end up this way, but nevertheless one can't control such things. I blame my impulsive decision making for my current predicament. However, I won't deny that I thoroughly enjoyed it.

My primary assumption was that the ride at worst would be something like a Bombay local. I was way off the mark. Nowhere close to it. Here's why :

1. average travel time in a Bombay local is 25 mins
2. People don't need to pee in a bombay local
3. People don't use your leg as a pillow in a bombay local
4. You don't have to try to sleep while standing in a bombay local

I even had the honor of climbing up on the luggage racks and sitting there with my head bent down in deference to the cramped quarters. The rather smelly semi-hindi speaking guy who was kind enough to grant me this opportunity did this for no altruistic reasons. It was a fair trade, and that's all. He needed to get down and the only way he could do this was if I clambered up like a monkey. And after a fair bit of gymnastics, the deal was sealed.

I like to leave a bit of gyaan when I conclude my blogs. So here comes this capsule of worldly wisdom. "Don't get on a general compartment. And thank god like hell for being born into a rich family"

P.S. By rich, I assume that you are rich enough to have gone to good enough schools to read and understand this blog. And ya, don't flatter yourself too much.

Bon Apetit

My good friend, Robert Pertham was rather restless. His looks defined the quintessential uneasy person. Not that he was uneasy to talk with or have at a party, he was just very restless. He was a small chubby man, with oodles of energy. In fact, I remember the day when Robert, I and some other friends had gone on a hiking trip. Towards the end of the trip, we could barely walk. Our strength was flagging. It was in these occasions that Robert would walk ahead of all of us, sing boisterously, and goad us on to the end. It was perhaps for this quality that almost everyone loved him and I hated him. He would make himself available on every occasion. It was like he was omnipresent. How he managed to do this was a mystery. His wife had left him with the kids a long time back. She said that she just couldn't stand him shuffling around any more. Poor lady, I sympathize with her. He was quite a lovable person if you could ignore his constant darting eyes. The way he bit his nails. The 'Tap tap' noise he made with his feet. In any case, he was a good man but a rather restless one.

I refer to Robert in the past tense for a reason. It is because I killed him today. It wasn't a premeditated act. It just happened. I had replayed his death in a million different ways in my head, but in that moment, I knew what had to be done. He is gone now. Gone for good. Maybe the next time you eat a beef steak, you might get to meet him. Bon Apetit.

Precipice

My face is calm. It is peaceful. No signs of the turmoil. No indication of the storm. Raging inside me. I am angry. Very angry. Very angry.
I am beyond the questions. They have betrayed me. I want to shout. No, scream. But, I just took a resolution. I will stay calm. Yes, I will stay calm. My face is calm. It is peaceful. No signs of the turmoil. No indication of the storm. Raging inside me.
The flashbulbs will go off. Without me. The newspapers will talk. Not about me. A household name. Not me. It's seething inside me. But I will stay calm. I need to. For their sake at least. Why should I be the gentleman. I hate them. I hate them. I hate them. Their living guts. And all you fuckers too. Fuck you all. Fuck You......
I am angry. I promised to stay calm. I am calm. Can I be calm. I'll meet those phoneys. I'll be calm. My face is calm. It is peaceful. No signs of the turmoil. No indication of the storm. Raging inside me.

Mumbaiyya

This blog is addressed to all non mumbaikars (like me). The name Mumbai or Bombay features in my list of cool cities. So does Paris and L.A. My choices are obviously a result of my experiences, both real and imaginary. I have for instance experienced Paris by night but only imagined sunny L.A. But that is beside the point. The main thing is that Bombay is in my list of cool cities.
How it got there is a long story....

To me Bombay had always been this place in the Movies. Almost every movie somehow mega glorified Bombay. Scenes from Rangeela with Urmila swaying her hips and Aamir khan being studly shall always have Bombay encrusted in the Background. So Bombay, for me was this ethereal town. In the movies it firmly remained. Until one summer after first year of college, I decided to visit it. Believe me it was everything that I thought it would be. My first few days was an overwhelming experience. I tended to observe the hubbub in Bombay from a higher plane. The people dashing. The horns blaring. The extreme wealth. The utter poverty. It was like the movies. Every bit of it was true. After the first few days, I needed to meet someone at a certain time and at a certain place. I didn't realize but I had already divorced myself from my detachment of Bombay. As I ran to take the next local from Dadar, flagged down an auto, and cursed the many beggars, I was oblivious to the reality that I had now been officially inducted into Mumbaihood. And the story continued.

Many more Mumbai trips have happened since them. I have met some amazing people, been to cool hangouts, done very fun things and today Mumbai is easily up there. Right among the best of the lot.

Post Mortem

Where do people go when they die ?

I really don't know the answer to that. Somehow this always comes under the purview of every religion. Either acknowledging it or the complete lack of it. There is no middle ground. But, I want to know what happens to me when I die. Do i switch off like a machine and then everything goes into utter darkness??.... The thought is scary. But as always, the spark of ingenuity in me has come with an alternate explanation.

I don't care what others say, but this is where I will go, period.
A place with lots of good food and drinks.

Cutie

She stood there blocking my path. In ordinary circumstances, I would just step aside and proceed totally oblivious. But her eyes held me. She was a cow albeit a very cute one. Her eyelashes so pretty, that it almost seemed like she had kajal on. As she chewed her cud, ruminating on her daily forages, I began to wonder whether she actually noticed my presence. There was also the outside chance that she might suddenly get very touchy and decide to gore me with her unsightly horns. This thought started nagging me. At first it started off as an itch in a corner of my head and then it started creeping into my nerves. Within a few moments, it had developed into a full blown paranoia. The docile image of her bovinness been replaced by that of a raging, depraved and wild animal. Flares after flares of adrenalin rushed through me. My face flushed. My blood was hot. I could feel sweat on my back. I wanted to run, but couldn't decide which direction to flee. I just stood there transfixed, rooted at the spot. Well, time passed. I remember feeling very hungry, and the mess food tasting godly.

P.S. Those who can know will know.

Blackout(s) II

The shadow of a human hand fell on a whitish wall. The shadow danced a slow clumsy dance. It flickered and jumped as if it were the least bit comfortable. Then suddenly there was darkness. A gust of wind had knocked open the window. The wick of the candle lay smoldering. The red glow gently diminishing with every swirl of cold air. Slowly, the last embers died out. The night sounds made their eerie presence felt. The sound of crickets filled the dark void. "Where the hell is the matchbox ?"

The dog that said no.

Every now and again, there occurs an events so improbable that it shakes your entire belief system. I encountered one such event today. The essential premise of man's superiority over animals is that we are able to think and take well thought out decisions. More thought, less instinct. In fact, we take pride that we can delay instinct so much that it becomes rational thinking. It is perhaps in our instinct to eat meat when hungry, but a strict vegetarian will tell you otherwise. As I said before, thought prevails over instinct. What I could no digest was why a dog(belonging to the canine family)would refuse to eat meat and choose sambar rice instead. Strange. Maybe genetic mutations are happening at a faster rate, and very soon we will see a new breed of vegetarian dogs. But consider the possibility, that the dog refused the meat by choice. Could this mean that, we humans are not so unique after all.

Blackout(s)

The buzz near my ear was seriously irritating me. I swear, I hate mosquitoes. By now, a layer of sweat had formed on my face, which somehow encouraged me to sweat even more. The buzz reached a crescendo. Ok enough! the mosquito had to die. Whack..!!!... ya, it's dead. A feeling of satisfaction came over me, that me temporarily revel in the glow of this terrible blackout.

My room was getting too stuffy for my liking, so I went out to the verandah. The 3 AM moonlight greeted me, with a certain sense of foreboding. All around me the trees were bathed in the dim light. I was feeling lonely all right. I placed myself on the verandah wall and thought no thoughts. Just this nagging feeling of wanting to sleep. Images of the previous day and the day to come flitted before my eyes. 3AM is a very wierd time. It's not yesterday nor today nor tomorrow. Well I just remained. thinking no thoughts.

What is Happening in Kashmir?

My daily dose of news comes in the form of newspaper delivered with a loud thud. This is my cue that the day has started and the world has indeed turned a full circle. Lately I just don't feel like getting up and reading the news. It's not because of my laziness, I'm simply afraid of what I might see. Violence is everywhere. Bomb blasts, genocide in S.Ossetia and now riots in Kashmir. Seriously, what the hell is going on in the garden on top of the world?

I'm a proud Indian, I have enormous faith in the army and I'll stand by every decision they take. However, I can't help but draw parallels in history. Whenever, the indigenous people of a region are genuinely pissed, change happens. Trying to stop the rising tide of change by imposing martial law and killing innocent civilians is never the solution. Such a scenario is only going to have violent repurcussions. The founding fathers of our country have always told us to tread the path of peace and non violence. Even happenings in Palestine, Iraq and Vietnam have have shown us the prolonged effects of the use of force. I sincerely hope that an amicable solution is found to whatever it is that the people of Kashmir are upset about and that the violence ends soon.

Peripatetic me

My Halcyon days were spent in the winters of Delhi. The holidays were a time for friends and family. On one such winter, still a wee lad, barely started going to school, I was basking in the sun. Sprawled out on my grandma's lap, I was gently purring like a Persian cat that has just had an entire fish. My grandma used to shower me with grandmotherly affection and narrate to me Panchatantra stories packed with morales( none of it has sunk in :( ). She was examining my feet and she told me something that I can never forget. She had noticed a small mole on the sole of my right foot. She said that this signified that I would do a lot of travelling, just like my dad.

Hmmmm... I'm 20 now and I certainly have travelled a lot. From peering down at the Big Apple on top of the WTC, taking a hike on the Great wall, celebrating Bastille day in front of the Eiffel tower, shopping on Orchard street, staying at a Nazi Concentration camp, swearing at pimps in Bangkok, conquering the Himalayas,Alps and the Appalachians to visiting temples in every nook and corner in India. I have been there, done that and I am definitely going to travel a lot more too. It is easy to give into fatalism and make up theories to explain the reality around you. It's convenient to say that this is my fate and feel good about it. I make no such claim despite my grandma's sincere predictions. One thing I'm sure of, fate or no fate, my dad loves travelling and I have his bug.

Turn on, Tune in, Drop out

Came across this recently. Very Nice.

" Turn on' meant go within to activate your neural and genetic equipment. Become sensitive to the many and various levels of consciousness and the specific triggers that engage them. Drugs were one way to accomplish this end. 'Tune in' meant interact harmoniously with the world around you - externalize, materialize, express your new internal perspectives. Drop out suggested an elective, selective, graceful process of detachment from involuntary or unconscious commitments. 'Drop Out' meant self-reliance, a discovery of one's singularity, a commitment to mobility, choice, and change. Unhappily my explanations of this sequence of personal development were often misinterpreted to mean 'Get stoned and abandon all constructive activity.' " - Leary

Siddhartha by Herman Hesse

Questions of the spirit and the soul have never really troubled me nor did I have too much time to even pose such questions. Everything has been about fulfilling my needs in the present. Herman Hesse calls this living in samsara. He states that living in samsara makes you acutely aware of your senses. Feelings of joy, anxiety, pleasure, pain, etc. take on a new meaning. Somehow this is not such a good thing. Hesse claims that there is an alternative. There is a higher plane that humans should aspire to reach, something about detachment from the self and being one with everything. Realising the intransience of time and the value of wisdome over knowledge. You get the picture.

Like a true cynic, I mock all that he propounds. Obviously, my negative overtones have a reason and that reason is not so complex. I just love living.