Pehchaan

Aisa nahi hai ki khud ko pehchaanti nahi. Aisa bhi nahi hai ki khud ko pehchaanti hoon...
Naam hai. Chehra hai. Kya itna kafi nahi hai...
Chaaro aur ek kohra sa nazar aata hai. Kohre ke us taraf ek shor sunaai padta hai. Is taraf sannata hai. Kisse zyada darr lagta hai, yeh ab tak samajh nahi paayi hoon.

Kahaaniyan ab bhi likhti hoon. Kirdaar bhi wahin hain. Un main bhi khud ko paaya hai. Un main bhi khud ko khoya hai...
Kahaaniyon ne kuch sikhaya bhi hai. Aaj jo itni badi badi baatein kar rahi hoon. Mere puraane pehchaan ka shayad naya hissa hai.
Akeli nahi hoon. Bheed hai bahut yehaan. Akelepan ki chaah hai...
Yeh raasta bhi mujhe pasand nahi. Waqt bhi shayad thoda naraaz hai...
Manzil tak pahuchne ki jaldi bhi nahi...
Kya karna hai shayad yeh maloom bhi nahi.
Par thehraav ke liye koi jagah nahi meri pehchaan main. Paristhitiyon ko badalna hai. Aage badna hai...

Dheeme paanv tumhe aate sunaa tha. Aahista aahista wahaan se uthh khud ko jaate bhi suna tha.
Khat tumhaare saath nahi ab mere. Saath rakhna par chaha tha...
Manzil se tumne mujhe milaya tha ya mere manzil ko mujhse cheena tha...
Sitaron se aaj bhi baatein karti hoon, pata hai...
Ek se toh pyaar bhi ho gaya hai. Miloge usse kabhi toh jaanoge, tum jaisa woh bhi bahut saare sawaal poochta hai.
Par mere pehchaan ka hissa to na tum kabhi the na woh ab hai...

Dost mera badlaav se darta hai. Badlaav shayad mujhse. Dekhona shayad isliye kuch bhi nahi badla.
Wahi kalam. Wahi kaagaz. Wahi khayal. Wahi kami...
Kehta hai itna kya sochna. Kehta hai apna khayal rakho. Shayad darta hai ki badlaav kahin uske dost ko bhi na badalde.
Samjhaaongi kabhi use bhi...
Abhi mujhe kahin aur jaana hai...
Door...
Bahut door...
Haan...theekane ka bhi to pata lagana hai...

Aisa nahi ki khud ko pehchaanti nahi. Aisa bhi nahi hai ki khud ko pehchaanti hoon...

Old ties...

This one's for my buddy (Reema Bhattacharya). And the exclusivity factor predominantly prevails.

That little talk with you I never believed could do wonders. And to think of it we literally spoke after months. And we talked and talked. There’s something about old buddies. And that something is a lot.

And I’m sure if we were to meet now after some years, we would absolutely take it right from here. Like we always were with each other. And what’s strange is we are always with each other. And we defy the distance norms. And laugh at those who lose at its expense.

Loved you and always will. You are that one person in my life who makes me believe that it’s not a lonely world. Not a lonely day. Not a lonely night.

(As mentioned above this post is meant only and only for Reema Bhattacharya. Worthless and unrelated comments are vehemently uninvited.)

Bong Connection...

I am not a Bengali but Calcutta is home.

Barman is my family name. So people are like,

“Barman?? You must be bong!!”

“Tch…tch…actually no…”

I might originally be from Uttar Pradesh but Bengal is where my roots lie. I speak Bengali as fluently as my Bong friends do. My best friend is a Bong. And if there were some pre-requisites to qualify as a Bong, I would have far cleared all of them. I’m a complete Calcuttan.

Music and literature is profusely stuffed in its distinctive panache, here. And this city is politically charged to the core. Every one has a political opinion. And Mamata Banerjee is one crazy lady. When she’s not too busy yelling her lungs out in Singhur or some such place, she indulges in her favorite activity-calling bandhs. No here in Calcutta we do not need a substantial reason to call strikes. We just do it. Just like that. And the Supreme Court doesn’t care bother either.

Matter of fact I hail from a college which lives, dreams, speaks and breathes politics- Presidency College. It’s totally soaked in politics. Or should I say choked…err…

I think I actually got to know what Calcutta really was all about only after college happened. And with college so much more happened. “Communists” is what they call themselves. Che is who they worship. The liberal interpretation of Marx’s comments is made a tad too liberally here. Most don’t know what State is all about. They have no idea what a communist society even means.

It’s just cool out here to wear a Che T-shirt and proclaim yourself Communists. So when I asked a senior to tell me something about his philosophy, all he could manage was, “Che is my hero…”

Your T-shirt told me that already. Bloody fakers!!!

But not all are thus. Some know what they are doing. Some understand. I think most of them should do a little bit of exploration for themselves and then talk about Che and his philosophies. And if they really are as intellectual as they pose, I think they can give the environment a break by relaxing on their cheap ciggis…

The canteen seems to be a far cry from a conventional college canteen. At first your eye brows spring up on seeing the place, and then you get curious and mostly succumb. The crowd if not interesting is queer enough. It’s dark inside and mostly smoky. I don’t need to explain why.

I don’t think I can immerse myself into all this. Not this way atleast. I don’t believe in Communism. And I don’t understand State Theory. And I don’t fag.

The College needs to wake up and realize that there is more than simply dragging the autonomy drama. Anyways they have already lost on the autonomy thingy and even partial or complete freedom seems a distant possibility. In the mean time they can atleast take the initiative of clearing the mounds of garbage in the College campus.

Sorry, but it’ll take some time before I can point to the building above and say it loud without any inhibitions, “That’s where I belong…”