These modern day political thinkers are so ugly.Big tomato noses,that ungainly way of slouching over the table and those protruding opinionated elbows.Fighting it out on THE BIG FIGHT,raucous voices turning shrill in excitement.Hideous, really.Even the polished public school types.Just as bloated with opinions.Besides,they're ugly too.
Yet thoroughly enviable.
Its as though they've plunged their hands into a dark abyss called 'the world',coiled their fingers around the place and come away with a more a more active understanding.Just a little corner perhaps which they often cant see beyond.But what of it.Sit back and watch,these corners sometimes coalesce into a chunk of clear knowledge.
No,I have no great thirst for knowledge but clarity is just..sexed out.
For here we have the modern world i.e rushing pushing mess and modern people churning up -humour,anger,ambition.And all this has bumped into each other and rattled about and made ONE BIG SCRAMBLE.Now what?
Don't we need them now?To get under the skin of things,establish links and burrow towards the truth.Ever so often they're wide of the mark.Oftener they get warped in the process.But they help.Never the less.
Poetry does the same sometimes.Lights up unlikely spots with a flash.Of course the treatment is much more irreverent,cocky almost.But in essence,similar.
I think I want to be an understander.Is that a career option?

P.S-This is a little off the cuff and heavily unedited.Apologies.

Story

He really had a disgusting mind,obsessed with reality.One grows up,acquires an imagination,a sense of humour to make it matter less and less .But no,he was one of those men who never grew up.

He was one of those men who wore spectacles just for effect.Bifocals which he didnt need.Of course the sky seemed attached to the ground at an odd angle,curiously unaligned.But he liked it just so.It seemed to him the Correct Perspective.

When he shut his eyes it made no difference.He carried the clear imprint of chairs and tables and coffee mugs into the territory of his mind.

To get on with the story..
What story?
Did he have one?

Once,but it dried up and cracked in the wind.

Theory

I've been developing this theory that we actually do possess a sense apart from the five obvious ones.Nono not sixth sense as in instinct but a sort of added awareness that cannot be explained.I'll tell you what sparked of the idea.Ogling.
I was.But distinctly from out of the said persons line of vision.Luckily my reflexes are moderately good so I managed to give the impression that I was looking through this person when he suddenly turned round.But really how can anyone possibly tell?
What has seriously hampered my knowledge on these lines is that noone stares at me.
But even the other day-my mother was lying down in her room and her eyes were shut and I padded in bare feet(so no noise or anything)and she said-'joey, ki hoyeche?'
Huh?
Thoroughly intrigued I told dadabhai.And for the rest of the Sunday afternoon we experimented with our mother as the guinea pig.First we sat around on the bed and spoke in loud whispers about how we were going to tickle mummy and pull her hair and poke her tummy.We know she hates being tickled and people playing with her hair but that still doesn't explain how mad she got.You know ,first squirmed about and then yelled-WHY ARE YOU SO SET ON RUINING MY ONE FREE AFTERNOON?I mean really,not like we'd actually done those things.and here was a person who can sleep through a cricket match,oblivious to all the noise and excitement.
Very weird,don't you think?
So anyway ,the experiment was a grand success so far but our final innovation fell flat.We took this laser pointer(you know,the ones they use during presentations)and and from a distance we wiggled the light about on the underside of her foot.No reaction.Very disappointing so we tried some more times.More disappointment.

At any rate I have not given up on my theory.Ask boy school debaters,they'll tell you-It is the exception that proves the rule.

Glitter

Pujo is a tremendous pain in the ass.You can tolerate only so much on sentimental grounds.The Dhak jars my morning peace and what is all this talk of sharat kal and shiuli ful.All the seasons have merged into summer and a protracted monsoon.And the shiuli gach is entirely missing from the kolkata horizon.
And what do we have in its place?Cheap shiny finery.Fizz that hurts your breath.And those god forsaken puja pandals.
'Ota dekhtei hobe.matir bhar diye koreche'
'Ha.ar jeta muger daler khosha diye?'
What next? chamberpots?
Pandal hopping I will simply abstain from henceforth.Its a very gramer lok thing to do.
There.I've said it.

Once Shared

It was the middle of the night and we had just snacked on these delicious tomato cheese sandwiches.At twelve thirty .Don't ask.Pinky Miss had got it into her head that we (poor dears) were being starved having all those vegetarian meals.So she sneaked into the kitchen ,midnight , and made some.
The thank you card was ready by then.So we presented it to maam.She ,rather ungratefully laughed at my note.Not surprising actually .Shit silly it was-
'PINKY MISS WEE SHALL MEES YEW'
Shreya had started this whole deal of speaking in a weird ass bangali accent and we 'leawe'd 'on e zetplen' the whole damn time.
The sandwiches polished off we hung around grinning sheepishly at each other for some time.Same thing on everybody's mind but someone had to voice it.Rhea and Samriddhi were out of the question.Prudes of the first order.So, who do you think?(.)
Hoisted myself on a stool and slid out the slim volume.WILD SEX the spine said.
Now this place was Mrs.Balarams study.She looked the model of propriety.South Indian.(You know what I mean..)Economist.Worked in the ministry.WILD SEX?!O dear me.
Sheepish looks gave way to uncontrolled laughter.Pinky Miss admitted that she'd been planning to take a good look through it herself,once we'd left the room.Which we were taking A HELL OF A LONG TIME to do.
Okay.Now picture this.Four girls and a teacher hunched over this book.(And what a book!)And the page is turned.
One goggle eyed frog on top of another meets the eye.Next page.Same story.Only this time its cockroaches.
Wild as in Nature stupid!Not..never mind what we'd thought it was going to be.
But what a supreme letdown.Quite glassy eyed with dismay.
And then we laughed.And how...stomach hurtingly,eyes tearingly.
Fond memories.They stay curled up in your head and strike again, another midnight, a year later with such urgency and vividness that you're forced to write it down.

To happiness.

PS.Did Mrs Balaram make the same mistake?;)