O well, I have been writing poems and all and its depressed the crap out of me. Well, talking of poems, I have a rather interesting theory which I believe you’d be interested to listen. So, here goes…I think that many times ppl write and they just get away with the rhyme and the rhythm and the fillings and the frills, just so that they can hide the emotion that’s there beneath… I mean that emotion which is so phony it requires the external clothing of rhyme to properly cover it so that nothing else shows. Trust me, it does happen, perhaps more so in smaller proportion a tip of the emotion is shown, so you probably think there’s more underneath, but mostly you are so busy admiring the intricate gilded designery, there’s a chance that the writer tricked you — he placed just that part that’s there protruding.O well, I do it too, and all the time, but since I am the phony of phonies, so I do it in such-a complex way that I trick you into believing there really is emotion. It will take another big phony to tell you and explain to you what exactly its abt!

Anyway, the reason why I am shooting all this bull is because I have like known this writer since an yr or more and her name is Alpana, I mean, if I were to be a real kid abt it, and if you’d let me be, I’d say that she just abt sums up that first line that Linda Goodman wrote in the chapter of ‘How to recognize Capricorn‘. I mean Linda herself would say that here’s a good example to properly authenticate my line. Linda wrote: ‘It’s anything but a breeze to grasp the Capricorn char­acter.’ And ya, a breeze it is, I mean if you could really grasp their character, really get in the skin of it and all. Breathe as they breathe, see as they see. I wonder if you ever tried that stuff, but that’s what I used to do in my teenage years.Memories…. O well.

So, I was saying that it’s a breeze to grasp the Capricorn character, o well, it very much is. I mean if you could, like me, or like Linda grasp it. So this lady writer Alpana — and she doesn’t know I am talking here abt her, I doubt if she’d unless any of you told her — is the one that you know for once again authenticated my poetry theory as written above, but in the reverse way. You know like in maths problems you’d prove the negative assumption to be wrong so that proves you were correct in the positive one. That way. I mean she’s not fillings or frills or rhyme or rhythm. Her writing is emotion and emotion alone. And so when you read her, you touch emotion, and it makes you quiver. I mean you are probably used to reading in ways and stuff wherein you’d go look for a trace of emotion — go looking, wow! And I do that, yes! I mean its right next to ‘Find me’ in my to-do list — and find it hidden, and then quiver or not quiver, at long last.

One feature of her poems is that just one emotion quite often runs through the entire poem. It just grows in size from line to line to at last sweetly, if its a sweet one, or menacingly, if its a menacing one, rest with you. Consider for eg. this poem:

So the point is, do do read her! If you have the time. I mean, she writes simple, everyday stuff. OK, let me show you anuder one.

I mean, do you really want me to say the obvious? Well, I think her poem just flows so spontaneuosly like a beautiful thought that just blooms and blooms much like that songbird she mentions towards the end. O well, that she gets even lesser comments than me depressed the hell out of me. So, please just do read her. All of you, yea!
O well, I wonder what it is I seek for me when writing like that for this lady, anyway, the point is I just love her, and so must you, ya, necessarily!

Ye masaail-e-tasawwuf, ye tera bayaan ‘Ghalib’!
Tujhe ham walee samajhate, jo na baada_khwaar hota

This mysticism, these statements of yours, Ghalib
I would have considered you a saint, if only you were not inebriated*

*Dedicated to all and sundry with an insidious intent… ;-))

I think when we meet a person, we, more often than not, know the nature of the relationship that will ensue. Happens most often. Sometimes, we meet someone “strange” or someone whose match doesn”t exist in our “database”, but once the record has been documented, the next one we meet of the same “school”, we will again know of the nature of the relationship to ensue. And so it goes.

Often, I meet guys — whom you would call, “goons”, — but I vibe well with them. It is because of the numerous “goons” I befriended in my growing years. Let me list to you the various attributes of these goons. They may have these, or more, or less attributes than the following:

• They smoke nicotine and/or weed.
• They booze
• They have had a series of flings with girls, and to almost each of them they promised marriage. They exploited these girls in every way possible. They at some point, might have themselves believed that they will settle down into matrimony with those girls, but better sense prevailed when the elder sister or mother counselled them. It is only the love of the family that can have some little control on them!
• They are bigger disasters than the aforementioned girls. They are the ghosts of ghosts. Thus, HIGHLY perceptive, like all ghosts are. Better not lie to them.

On a tangent: People change and so should first perceptions, no matter how strong these are. Sometimes, a highly sensitive and emotional person is a victim of an incorrect perception of an individual. ‘A’ might not understand another person, ‘B’; his misunderstanding offends, albeit in spirit, ‘B’, who only percieves and feels, given his high perceptive ability. Only ‘A’ can never know that he has offended ‘B’. “Machli jal ki rani hai, jeevan uska paani hai, haath lagaaogey toh darr jaayegi, bahar nikalogey toh marr jayegi.”  There is much to be learnt from this small verse. 

The chat space is one dimension ahead of the blog space. I had a chat with iLand's own maha kavi, KB! A teacher, poet, song-writer, guitarist, retired Colonel and what not! Recently he has been writing prose. Satires on Indian polity. Me honestly believes that Jug Suraiya at the STOI should be replaced by him so we can have Logikal in place of Jugular Vein on the editorial page!

Also, me honestly believes that he has some connection with Tagore. In the following chat we do explore this further! Comparisons are made with Gurudev! But he humbly says, ‘No way!’ Further details in the chat!

If at blog space, he is a poet’s poet then on chat space, he is a charmer! Me, Swati and Zeus would sure attest to that!! : ))

So, have a dekko at his backyard!

kanchan.bhattacharya is online.

Kush: hello! Nice poem!

kanchan.bhattacharya: you read that?

Kush: yes. I commented too.

kanchan.bhattacharya: wow… it was a dream, in technicolor, with sound and scent

Kush:  ’shayar ka khwab’!

kanchan.bhattacharya: something like that….

the rain in the night does all that

the medusa….

Kush: yes… ?

feels like the poem isn't sufficient for you 2 say it all.

lol

kanchan.bhattacharya: naturally, I hide the murkier details, being eaten alive et al

Kush: lol…

kanchan.bhattacharya: and then the extracts drawn ptui! says the Medusa, spitting the dried bones out!

I showed only the printable, decent things

Kush: there is an insect you know… the female eats the male after/during intercourse!

kanchan.bhattacharya: it is common

Kush: ic

kanchan.bhattacharya: even women bheja kha jaati hain!

Kush: lolz… I wouldn’t know! But that seems 2 b true

kanchan.bhattacharya: not necessarily in the act, otherwise too!

Kush: perhaps yu shud write a prose… that begins with the description of that insect and then via analogy speak of human relationships!

kanchan.bhattacharya: will try some time, I have written one third of a story like this Medusa only

Kush: okays.

kanchan.bhattacharya: read heathen bard?

Kush: yes, read that once…!

was on Sandy’s faves so had a luk.

kanchan.bhattacharya: that too is my space!

Kush: me knows, yu said that once in your blogpage

kanchan.bhattacharya: I have 45 minutes to collect a huge cheque today, so might go off suddenly!

Kush: How much is it, if I may ask

some prize money?

kanchan.bhattacharya: well, sale of a house is involved!

Kush: wow!

kanchan.bhattacharya: my present flat

Kush: okays.

kanchan.bhattacharya: and soon in a matter of days, I may vanish… for some time

new house, no internet

Will have a second floor studio, west facing!

Kush: studio, for?

kanchan.bhattacharya: writing, cartooning, teaching and dreaming on my rocking chair!

Kush: you draw cartoons too?

kanchan.bhattacharya: one book, 100 pages, with mostly three of us (Bhatta, Atma, Pradeep) in March 1990. Atma is a Lt Gen, I and Pradeep retired as Colonels,

We were called “BAP”!

Kush: a book co-authored by you 3? kewl!!

kanchan.bhattacharya: I have the originals!

Kush: okays

so whats d book abt?

kanchan.bhattacharya: It is called the “Whole Sabcheez”

Kush: okays

you have uncanny similarities with Tagore don’t you think?

kanchan.bhattacharya: No way

Kush: he was everything, so are you!

kanchan.bhattacharya: He never joined the Army!

Kush: lol!

besides that!

kanchan.bhattacharya: I never got the Nobel Prize!

Kush: hahahaha

well, there are many similarities!

kanchan.bhattacharya: and I am alive… alas, he is gone, even before I was born!

Kush: teacher, poet, writer, song-writer, musician!

aren't these enuf?

kanchan.bhattacharya: well,

Kush: and then both Bengalis!

kanchan.bhattacharya: That is true, I was even born in Kolkata, 10 Km from Jorasanko House where Tagore was born and raised

Kush: must be him, you, perhaps you ever thot like that?

kanchan.bhattacharya: LOL! In bengali, that is called attohasya, demoniacal laughter!

Kush: okays

i am a die-hard tagore fan

kanchan.bhattacharya: lastly, there is one problem… I hate growing a beard of any kind, it itches very hard!

Kush: lolz!!

–cut–



PS Publishing this after permission!

First we talk over some trivialities. Could be anything from Salman Khan to Salman Rushdie. Now at this very important stage, I must do something acutely foolish to which the girl reacts in some xyz way. Now my active subconscious ' for the purpose of overlooking my foolishness ' interprets her behaviour as aloof and eccentric. 'Cute harmless eccentricities' my mind would call them. And for reasons best known to my mind, I start to believe that –'Yes!! She's the one!!!!'  

Next if our frequencies match and fate permits, rest assured shall follow the stage when intimacy sets in. Or let me call it the 'falling-in-love' stage. Let me tell you that there surely is love present in some slight degree. But blame it on its dilution which is 1 drop to 1 billion in the sea of our friendship, that it goes ignored as far as the girl is concerned.

But of course, I see it and so now comes our very crucial stage. Let me call it the 'decisive-stage'.

It is time for me to say the three magical words to the girl. Her answer decides the fate of the friendship. A 'yes' is definitely ruled out. (Well if she does say a yes, I will get rid of her at the first given opportunity.) Now her no and a fight is assured. The riddle is laid and now it is up to her to find a way out. If she does, a nice friendship will ensue.

You might ask me the purpose of these tests that every girl needs to pass to befriend me, so here's my reply:

How can one be my truest friend if he/she doesn't acknowledge the profoundly foolish in me?

He woke up to the ring tone of muntono set in his mobile phone to a specific number. He pulled himself up from bed because he knew he had to take the call.

It was eleven in the noon but his sleep was not complete. After all, he had been chatting with her from midnight till the wee hours of the morning. They had decided to meet up at 4 p.m. at Crossword book mall, Indira Nagar. Till the night before they had only been chat-buddies.

The day unfolded easily with him lounging on the been-bag watching The Blue Lagoon.

At two thirty he bathed and got ready, putting on some cologne and combing his hair propahly?several times!  It was twenty minutes to four. He took his wallet and dashed off to the mall at Indira Nagar. Travelling down Airport Road he went past Manipal Hospital and took the lane by Leela Palace. After a twenty minute walk he reached the mall. A lady came in by the glass door after a wait of five minutes. The searching look in her face confirmed to him that she was indeed her!

'Ash!' He said with the flourish that was so becoming to her name.



*****



We talked for three hours. No, correction! She spoke for three hours.

She bought me a copy of Dicken’s Oliver Twist and I bought her a copy of The Prophet. The hard cover classic edition!! We left the mall together and strolled together for some time when she turned into ‘12th main’ street shaking mah hand one more time before bidding me adieu.  

I am no big star
Nor do I have my own car
I only have this much to say
That you would love me anyway.


These ain’t my lines. I was fourteen years old when I first heard them from Samarth and committed them to memory. We were in the same class, 9 - A and it happened to be a free period. He told me he had composed many such romantic verse and that they were preserved. He was one romantic-at-heart, a Capricorn to the core!

In our standard 11th and 12th; he would choose to write short stories instead of essays in the english language paper. It was he who talked me into doing the same. He argued that once you embark on one and get the narration right, you don’t have to care for more ‘points’ as in an essay. And so I followed suit. The very first one I wrote my teacher loved a lot and praised me for the same.

So now, I try and write a story every now and then, and as for him, well, as I post this it is evening, so he must be smoking a cigarette out there somewhere in Delhi I am quiet sure. He is a student at Hindu college there.

The lines above hold good all the more today.

“I only wish to tell you a story. I have no other vanity.” — Mario Puzo.

“Meri kahaniyon main pariyan apna aashiyaan nahi banati…bas toote paron ke silvate chod jaati hain…” – Pavement Freud.

Thid post is dedicated to all the loved ones, fans and friends, admirers and enemies of Pavement Freud.

I talked with him for 37 minutes + some seconds on phone. I blackmailed him by saying that if he doesn’t call I won’t talk with him on g-Talk. These are some of my observations about him:


He is like the whiff of that first remembered summer of your life. There is magic about him and his charm. Like every story-teller, he is a romantic at heart no doubt, but he will look through clearly and conjure his stories with the precision of a surgeon. Sample for example the way his work, Chocolate Chocoloate culminates:

'A dil hain muskil jeena yahan jara hat ke jara bachke yeh hain Bombay meri jaan 'he lustily whistled as his shadow struggled to match his pace.’ You can only admire at the web of magic that his words weave.

This guy is extremely nice and honourable. His robust sensayuma and ready wit will win your heart immediately. He is extremely warm-heearted and very intelligent (BTW do I needa say that?).

I and Swati respect and love him equally. He is very near and dear to both our hearts. Almost - na- not almost, he is my big brother and loves me like a pampared little bro.

He has blessed us both (me and Swati) with his knd and flattering attention.

He is a Sun Sign Virgo and lives in Vasai in Maharashtra and loves his three cats very much with whom he sleeps!

He told me that he dislikes almost all his creations and that he still waits for that ‘One fine day when… I will write…’

I have always admired the way he talks with people on the iLand. He will be polite and respectful no matter who he is talking with. Sample what he wrote in my GB: “Kush, you will be penalized for each silent visit you make to my iLand :)”

He is one of those people whom you can praise till days and nights on end without tiring

He told me that he feels honoured that he has such an intelligent audience who read him consistently.

I expressed my gila over the fact that he does not give me nice compliments always. For example in one of my stories he wrote simply this: “Something amiss……. good try though! ” So when I said to him this he replied saying that he wants everyone to improve including himself. That I got many sweet comments from other people and so it would be nice if he pointed out to me the mistakes.

You will be astounded to know that one of the first messages I wrote to him in his GB was:
“Freud, may be this is uncalled for and may look idiotic but I have very warm feelings towards you.”

I do not know but I had this inner urge and it did not look like a stupid overture neither to me nor to him. And BTW at that time I had not even read him!!!!!

And he replied in my GB:

“KA… can i say ditto… May be you are the little bro I lost…”

Thereafter I read him and he me. I instantly became his fan after reading one of his his very famous and popular works The Desecration. And he liked my deplorable work too


His philosophy of life:

His philosphy of life is the same as mine and binds as both in the silvery cord of empathy. It is best expressed in the answer that Raj Kapoor gives to Rajendra Kumar in a movie whose name I can’t recall.

Rajendra Kumar: Mai aapse ek sawaal puchna chahta hoon, kya aap Meena se muhabbat karte hai?

Raj Kapoor: Jii? Kya main Meena se muhabbat karta hoon?
Sawaal yeh nahi Kumar sahab. Sawaal hai kya main muhabbat karta hoon. Jawaab hai haan; main muhabbat karta hoon. Is duniya se, bachhon se, budro se, aurton se, mardon se, phoolon se, pathharon se…

 

On the phone, he gave me nice compliments and meant each one of them:

1. Your each sentence is pregnant with meaning. I like that.

2. The story First Love was very nice. The comment he gave was:

Pavement Freud said… 1:25 PM | 11/Jan/07 | |
Remarkable…the passion…the rebellion…the longing…felt all of these and then some more…you sure are a very mature twenty year old

3. Etc. (Some personal ones.. wink! wink!)

He is like that whiff of that first remembered summer of your life that rushes past by you bringing along a thousand memories. Each one to break your heart in a thousand pieces. I once asked him to tell me of any pariyon-waali kahaani if he has penned down any. He replied in my GB:  Kush… meri kahaniyon main pariyan apna aashiyaan nahi banati…bas toote paron ke silvate chod jaati hain…



There is much more to say but no language to say it in



PS–  I know his real identity, his real name, his gmail/g-talk ID, his mobile no., etc. How many dollars are you willing to give me for the exchange of these? The bidding starts with 1 million dollars