Thursday, June 23, 2016

Hello me. Its me again. You can subdue, but never tame me

23rd June 2016. 19:23  

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

Eight months later

This is awkward. Kind of. When i had started to blog it was to make sure i could type perfectly and spontaneously. You could say I was getting ready to prepare myself for the TOEFL. just another rung of the ladder for reaching where I have reached at present. Ok, since this is a personal blog, let me give you a few updates now !

This is July 20th 2011. Wednesday. 11.38 a.m.

Eight months ago I was slowly but surely falling in love.

Seven months ago i was studying hard for my exams, absolutely sure i would do well in them.

Six months ago I was sitting in an exam hall, wondering why i hadnt studied as much was required.

Five months ago I was writing a letter to Her, professing my love for her. I also promised her that i would come close to her. And that was difficult because she was/is living in a land far far away.

Four months ago i was again studying for my exams. I was also studying for her exams. Thankfully both of them went well. i passed with honours. She, err.... well she passed !!

Three months back I came to know that I was granted a scholarship. That basically took care of my aspirations and my career. My personal life, as i could be close to Her, and my professional life, as I could finally get a foreign degree.

Two months and fifteen days ago I quit my job. i thank my employers for hiring me, but I had always wanted to study. No salary could keep me away from it.

I said goodbye to Jadavpur University two months back. I finished my course and graduated with honours.

A month and fifteen days ago i had an accident and had twenty stitches on my foot. I am recuperating from the same.

A month back mosquitoes started infesting my room. They bite me as i speak.

A fortnight back She came to my home. It was such a relief to see her. Not exactly the way I imagined it, but nevertheless it was fulfilling.

A week ago I had my twenty second birthday. I spent it with three of the most important people of my life. mom, Dad, and Her.

Four days ago I received my residence card. So now i just have to board the flight and I'll reach there. No frills attached.

Yesterday I installed Linux Mint.

Today my mom cleaned my wound and applied medicine.

Four hours ago I woke up.

Now I must scratch myself in places you shouldnt venture alone at night.

Friday, December 17, 2010

Unbiased and unpersonal

Learning has alays been an important aspect of our human lives. Classroom learning is a time-tested methodology for imparting education. In the present times, where technology enables us to enrol freely in distance learning and online computer classes where students can take classes and study at their own convenience. Yet, if we consider replacing classroom learning with the latter, I will not support the idea. And I wont, because of the following reasons.

Firstly, the lack of equipment is an issue. Learning is a right to each and every child, to each and every student in the world. And learning through online computer classes requires a computer, and an internet connection. Statistics from all over the world indicate that millions of families do not own a home, have no access to telephones or electricity. There cannot be a substitute for classroom learning, which costs more and gives the same intended output, knowledge.
Moreover, people with the education imparted through distance and online learning courses, often score lesser on the employability scale when compared to their classroom learning counterparts. The reason for this observation is that companies and businesses are, by inherent composition, preferably looking for traditionally educated people. Their businesses are headed by such people and in all likelihood they prefer people like themselves in the company.

Which brings us to the fact that many of these distance and online learning courses are actually not having any accreditation with central regulatory boards of education. With internet fraud being a very common-place incident nowadays, the certification of the courses , and the people teaching them, is certainly an issue. And in practice, this is one area where the distance or online learning courses fail to make the cut. Classroom learning is structured, and it follows a much more rigorous program of selecting teachers. More competent teachers mean better teaching. And better teaching entails better learning opportunities for students.

Finally we focus on the learning experience that a classroom entitles one to. When one is part of a classroom not only does he interact with the teacher, but also with his fellow students. He can interact with them, forming personal as well as professional bonds which may last a lifetime. He also gets the opportunity to discuss about the topics to be learnt and hence shares his knowledge with others, and in return gets a helping of whatever the others have grasped.

Saturday, October 2, 2010


Curiosity killed the cat. And Diptyajit as well. Sometimes truth is so harsh, you want to turn back and can’t fathom it. Have a difficult time accepting it. But now you must decide. Between restraints of your emotions amounting to withdrawal in your shell as you have done in the past. And actually facing it for the first time in your life, knowing fully well the associated perils and anguish its likely to incite. You must contemplate between forgetting your own words including pretending nothing happened. And on the contrary, actually backing up your words with actions. Spend a real “sleepless night”. Thinking, weighing, deciding and facing your fears.

Uncertainity is probably what drives the curious soul. Uncertainity in electronic circuits, uncertainity in flying a helicopter, uncertainity of actually getting what you want. Drives your curiousity to the brink of an important decision. One that you must make with significant influence on your present and the future. It’s easy to “ not be bothered about the past”. Difficult to face it when it stares you down the eye.

There are really just two choices. One to finally learn and be an important person. One to refer to being important during sporadic conversations. The latter involving slow withdrawal, be it against your will to a state where you enquire about well being and studies. Being reduced to someone who only met you in university , or travelled with in a bus. Or a train. The former involving much more. Much more than just be worried about a chipped toe nail or a cold, which one catches while biking on a high cold wind. Much more than choosing electives for courses and being entwined with memories involving rain, inception, spring rolls, Deutschland and random conversations encompassing every thought and issue on the planet.

Four hours staring at the fan on the ceiling. A cup of tea. Pacing up and down the balcony, oblivious to the sounds created by urban chaos. Drowned in thought and decision. Finally sits down on the computer to write and vent out all what he’s been thinking. Decides to actually be there. Actually. Decides that he has to do this. Not by duty or by force, just has to. Has made the one feel again. Has made the one feel alive again. Invigorated the one with the one’s life, the one’s goals, the one’s preferences. The same things without which the one cannot be whole again. He will not back down. He will face his own fears , and the one’s as well.

Wears the sacred thread he was endowed with. Remembers rituals he was taught long ago. Worships the sun, and powers beyond his comprehension. Asks for strength for the times to come. Even though he is sure he has it. Reassures himself. Reassures the one. Will plunge now. Go deeper as ever.

Batten down the hatches! Sound the retreat. Here comes the cavalry !!

“ All in the valley of death .. rode the six hundred”

Wednesday, September 15, 2010


I haven't written in quite some time. I lacked the drive. Someone told me to write again. I am making that person the drive.

Life in general is pretty tiring
With problems, assignments and deadlines
Every night you end up perspiring
Still entangled within the same endless vines
While you work, and while you toil
Carelessly you stumble on someone else
Someone who sprout from the same soil
On the beach, collecting the same shells

Life in general is then pretty nice
Every morning you wake up with sunshine
Exploring all the virtue and vice
Utilising all the energy that you can mine
This person it seems was sent from heaven
Who never agrees and always sees
YOU, as you were since you were seven
Who always criticises the colour of your tees

Life in general blossoms in the spring
All your ideas now become possible whims
With that person, even you sprout a wing
Dive off the cliff just to see how the One swims
You make it a point to talk every moment
And the ones you dont is spent in thought
You let yourself be carried by the torrent
Never thinking twice whether you ought

Life in general isnt pretty fair
One day its time for the One to go
Somewhere you cant display your flair
And there isnt a boat you can row
Then the small things matter, then they become big
And all the thoughts and emotions reverb
Cause you cannot ever snap off this twig
The One lives in your city, in the farthest suburb

Life in general now becomes a quest
A means by which you shall reach the end
And the roads might not be to your taste
Yet you're sure you will not bend
When promise and opportunity both together
Strike at the same time on your door
You know you will brave any weather
To be with the One always, to settle the score

Saturday, August 7, 2010


Mr.Banerjee found himself behind iron gates. The
old corrugated ones one may find in the so-called
collapsible gates. The back of his skull was aching.
As he helped himself onto his feet, he slowly
started to recall the events of the last hour. He
looked at his grey tuxedo, which was now soiled
with some grime. He recalled looking at his
reflection in the mirror of the liquor store
bathroom. He had ordered a scotch, and was slowly
gulping his drink on a cold January evening in one
of the premier bars in the Park Street Sir Hog’s
market. He was interrupted by a man. He was tall,
judging by the length of his dark brown trench
coat . It was not the habit of a retired high court
judge to trust strangers, but something about the
man was striking. Soon, Mr.Banerjee and the person
were talking. He even bought a drink for the
elderly man, remembered Mr.Banerjee.
“Then what?”, Mr.Banerjee could not remember
anything after that. Now that he finally had got up,
he looked around himself, trying to understand
where he was at the current instant of time. All he
could see was darkness. The pale moonlight of a
1935 winter night came in through the only outlet
for air in the vicinity. Those iron gates. The
smell of roaches and stacked rubbish made the air
detestable, if not unsuitable, for breathing.
Slowly, he made his way towards the streaks of
light which were visible, hoping to catch a breath
of fresh air, as well as make his way out from
wherever this place was. “Darn it! These gates are
locked.” Mr.Banerjee was puzzled.
He held onto the iron contraptions. Rusty, un-oiled,
creaky metallic jingles arose from the same.
Shaking them with the utmost energy he could muster,
he roared “Let me out! You scoundrel! let me out
right now !”
Not a soul answered. Ten minutes later, Mr.Banerjee
was still in the same place. His roar had grown
into a meeker “Help!”, and the dose of adrenaline
his body had managed to secrete , was no longer
working. For the first time in life, he felt
trapped and alone. And he could do nothing about it.
He turned around and now realized where he was. He
was somewhere in Hog’s market. Somewhere in the
labyrinth of shops and lanes and by-lanes. The
smell around him must be from the remains of the
farm produce sold during the entire day.
“ But how did I get here? Didn’t anyone
notice ?” pondered Mr.Banerjee. he found it
illogical to believe that he was , actually inside
a deserted market which was closed and shut down
for the night. And the fact that no-one had noticed
him, not even the night guard when he would have
closed the gates, seemed unlikely. “Then again,
” he said to himself “ If I was lying there
beside that heap, and in the dark corner , it is
reasonable that no-one might see me.” Satisfied
with is logical conclusion, Mr.Banerjee decided to
wait for a few more hours till the shops re-opened.
“Then I will see to it that the watchmen of this
place are taken to task!” he murmured in his mind.
A logical argument failed to calm his nerves.
Mr.Banerjee was not as composed as he wanted
himself to be. The knowledge that he was the only
living soul within a hundred paces of this place
didn’t allow him to be totally carefree. Solitude
wasn’t a thing which Mr.Banerjee was not
acquainted with. But solitude in a dark chilly
alley, with no food or water , and little access to
air and light was surely something he didn’t like.
A muffled slam was suddenly heard. As if somewhere
in the labyrinth, some door had been flung open.
Mr.Banerjee could feel his hair standing upon the
back of his neck. “What was that?” the more he
pondered the more illogical his thoughts became. He
reached a point where he didn’t want to know the
cause of the sound. Even in the cold, his forehead
had small beads of sweat. A definite surge of
adrenaline in his body made his heart beat faster.
There was silence, which lasted for two agonizing
minutes. Then again something could be heard.
A heavy repetitive thud: not too loud. Emanating
from somewhere in the far end of the alley in which
Mr.Banerjee found himself. The wooden floor and the
chilly winter air added a dimension to the element.
The wood adding echoes to the sound and the air
making it sound clearer. “ Who goes there ?”,
deep in his heart , Mr.Banerjee was , actually,
A figure was approaching, with a slow and
measured step. The figure was leaning on a stick.
“ Impossible …………”
“ The High Court of Calcutta is at session for the
trial of the notorious ‘Gentleman’. Let the
prosecution begin”, Justice Banerjee announced in
a solemn voice.
“ My Lord”, the public prosecutor began, “this
person standing here is a criminal of the highest
degree. His crimes , when summed up, remain the
most brutal and serial homicidal acts in the
history of a hundred years of British Calcutta.”
He paused to catch his breath. Justice Banerjee
flinched in his chair. His powdered wig needed
change , he thought to himself.
The prosecutor continued, “ This man , Richard
Alphonso Wicker , also known as ‘Gentleman’ is
hereby charged with the murder of thirteen servants
of Indian origin throughout a period of six
months.” Justice Banerjee looked at the man. He
was a man with a sickly constitution. Greyed hair.
Eyes which were sunken deep inside their sockets.
Unshaved cheeks. Marked characteristics of alcohol
abuse. His hands were crooked and every aspect of
him made one feel detestation. He stood in a eased
fashion , leaning to a side, as if calmly composed
about his surroundings. The prosecutor continued,
“The mode of murder was grotesque. That was the
murder weapon ,” , he said, pointing to a stick.
Justice Banerjee looked carefully at the object of
interest. It was made from strong ebony , and was
perfectly black. The handle was made with silver.
Heavy and sturdy. “No doubt that this was an
effective murder weapon”, thought Justice Banerjee.
“Does the defendant have anything to say ?”
A meek wry smile formed on the lips of Gentleman.
“ just one thing. There were fifteen. Fifteen
servants who had entered in my service and suffered
death at my hands.”
With eyebrows raised , amidst a shocked courthouse,
Justice Banerjee managed to mumble “Anything
else ?”
“yes, every native I can lay hands upon will
survive a similar fate. You too will die you dog.
Kala kuta !”
With such a cry he jumped, and dashed at Justice
Banerjee. The federal marshals were quicker though.
They apprehended him. And then subdued him.
An hour later, Justice Banerjee was speaking again.
“ By the power vested in me by Her Majesty, the
queen , I hereby find you Richard Alphonso Wicker
guilty of murder of fifteen helpless individuals.
And hereby I condemn you to be hanged to death. To
be hanged, till Death.”
“It can’t be!”, logic agreed with Mr.Banerjee. a
dead man couldn’t walk, and if he had broken out
of prison, Mr.Banerjee would have come to know. The
alley wasn’t as long as Mr.Banerjee had thought it
to be. But there was no mistake. There was the same
back heavy wood stick with the same silver embossed
tip. The same gait Mr.Banerjee recalled from that
day when the court marshals had led him away.
Thirty five years of being a high court judge, and
he had sent only one man to the gallows. It made
Mr.Banerjee spend many a sleepless night before.
But this night was not something he imagined that
would happen.
A muffled hiss like voice could be heard. Now
Mr.Banerjee noticed that this was the same attire
that the tall man in the bar had wore.
“I told u cur, that u would die ….” Jeered the
“No. this is madness ……………..”
A loud sharp thud. Ripples of the same sound echoed
in the passage: followed by a fainter sound of
something collapsing. Then everything was silent
“This isn’t possible. How does the murderer
manage to bring the dead body in here ?” the
police inspector told the other man. He too was
dressed in the same attire. “Grotesque , if u ask
me” , replied the other, “well something
challenging for you huh ?” the former managed a
smile. All that ranting about monotony, in the
restroom of the police cafeteria, was going to be
tested , this time.
“Wait what’s that !” he exclaimed as he pointed
to a thing. A thin long piece of black wood with a
silver embossed handle lay at the side, as if
someone had tossed it in the corner. He recognized
it immediately. At the academy , every police cadet
had studied that case. Without wasting an instant,
he set out for the correctional facility. He
accessed the records with his own hands. He found
Richard Alphonso Wicker 1930 November 5th
Ordered by
Justice K.Banerjee
Status: Carried out as instructed

Thursday, April 22, 2010

thanks for the words i love to hear

You make magic with words
simple and simpler words
that catch the reflection of stars
All along they glow
Like a river flows between our hearts
Dancing to the tune i love to hear.

i always love to feel
Magic is real
Just like moment in the way it is
wash away all that aches
since the nights i hear the train
As cold ,forever, is
Draw me a moment of the sky, with your words
Simple and simpler words

copyright belongs to Charbak