My life, my ways…

Change, we all know, is the only constant in our lives. Be it in our personal or professional fronts, socio-political, economic fronts, change is inevitable. However, I always thought that no matter what comes, few things in my life will never change. Kolkata is my city, a place where my heart resides, a city that has given me newer dimensions to my life and bestowed upon me such warmth that I have been looking for. I never thought I would move away from the city.

But change was in the offing. And I had no forecast that my life would change overnight. Criticisms and applauses alike, I had to soak in the opinions of all those who matter in my life. I always think I have that Hamlet-ian streak in me! “To be or not to be” has been my question since, well, when? Finally when I decided that I would move to Delhi, (after weeks of sleepless nights, after brooding over thoughts that if I did, I have to say good bye to the secured monthly salary cheque!), I was more than happy and I still do not know what made me so happy. I knew myself to be someone who loves to play safe. Things have always happened to me the way I wanted to. Graduation, post-grads, M.Phil academics was where my heart was and years went by as I moved on from one rung of the ladder to another. What could have been a perfect life for a middle-class (no class-ist connotation that is!) Bengali like me, my job went on to become my nightmare. I shuddered at the thought of going to the school I was working and by and by I found it to a lackadaisical attempt. I am not a socialist was not meant to be! I still love the children there, but perhaps I love myself a little more. And lo! In a month’s time, I delivered my resignation and today I am here, in the capital, where am still looking for my “dil” to acknowledge this city, “dilwalon ka shahar”, Dilli.

It would me wrong to say, am not liking it. It has everything, well almost, that one craves for a good life. Amidst the humdrum, what I miss is my short adda sessions over a cup of tea or an orange-mint julep at Dolly’s or a cup of café latte at CCD or my Saturday nights at Oly pub or Someplace else, or just going around the city in a cab, or a dip in the Ganges. And yes I miss Bangla movies and my favorite haunt, Fame cinemas at Highland Park.

Yesterday, I was at the market and people flocked to the nearby paan-wala for a sachet of “sikhar”. Suddenly, I knew wherever you arethings are at their own places, for few things never change like the road-side cigarette shops and the eternal need for sikhars. So no complaints, no Hamletian dilemma, let life happen to me, and let me happen to life… after all, zindagi na milegi dobaara….

"staccato"!

This piece is dedicated to the one who, like a spark, suddenly ignited in me, my long lost urge of writing for my blog. A year has passed. My blog still remains unwritten, unread. I started it so that I could capture the sensitive essences of the slices of my life in this city. But I could never do justice to my blog. So here I am again with a vulnerable decision to start afresh.

The last year has been quite interesting. I have attained newer heights. I have received so much from life. But this year started off on a wrong note. Avishek passed away. And I still find it untrue. I am unnerved at every thing I do since it reminds me of him. I have had my best days of my life in college. And he was undoubtedly one of the reasons for making those three years so special. We had spent a week in Vizag in August 2003. I have my most memorable moments there. He was (disgustingly past tense) a critic par excellence. I had never been criticized so vehemently in my entire life. Miss his criticisms, miss his presence.

I don’t know exactly what I have to write today. In the midst of this chaotic city life, I am still unmoved. People, like race horses, galloping. No one dares to remain static. Money matters, a good life does. To be honest, I have fallen in love with my work. It gives me a chance to see the ‘other’: the kind of life any city man or a woman would dread to think of, where ambition finds an entirely different dimension, where children play and do not think of their home-works for the next day, where people work yet they are contented with what they have, never asking for more. Satisfaction comes easily. What is required perhaps is the mindscape. The mind, we know, makes a hell of a heaven or a heaven of a hell, and this is what we fail to comprehend. Life is all worth living with all its hurdles and Avishek’s departure again deepens my belief. Do what you feel to do, remain satisfied with what you have achieved. However, it does not mean that I’m against the hardworking, ambitious creed, but I want to be happy above everything else.