AVATAR BEAN!!!

And Forever......

Mailman, Bring Me No More Blues..

Man vs. Crustaceans

Something I found in some folder in my laptop, of some time when we were at war with the Great Crustacean Army.

a city and a saturday....

Evolutionary Hiccups!!

If only you think that depletion of natural fuels, pollution, increasing level of global warming, population explotion,deforestation, melting icebergs in Antartica, deforestation, extinction of blue whales and telltales of 2012 was the extent to which the world will play 'Carrot and Stick - Mostly Stick' with you, it is but evident that there has to be the quintessential element of surprise in this great parody called life.

It is a cliche how life is similar to the commercial '7 p.m. Reality Shows', as it happens that we do have a 'Wildcard Entry' here!

I guess people have finally noticed what I had couple of years ago......

Suite yourself >>here<<

Tarantino!!!!

Attaboy, he did it again!!!!

August Rush

Life is even more monotonous after a woderful break.

Its August again. Don't know what to do.

I think I'll finish off the book this time, a major part of it consists of ill-effects of de-forestation!!

Lets say it is indeed stupid to chop down the thing that gives food, liquor and intoxication to human beings.

Day -1 :Phase -1 : Hitting the road:

Hitting the road was always fun. Especially when you are not really sure where excatly you are going. I was under the impression we were headed somewhere in the jungles, atleast that was the initial 'plan', but thanks to the rather heavy burden that it imposed on our pockets, we headed off to a more unchartered plot of land - poor, wet and damp, it took a good number of retries to get the name right - Kasaragod. A rain-damp piece of land by the ocean on the other side of the Ghats, speaking an incomprensible language with damp beaches and damp forts and damp coconut groves.We were pensive about the kind of road that lay ahead of us when we had our first flat tyre, later, by the time the trip ended, we were looking at two flat tyres, one damaged headlight, a non-functional car horn and a twisted rim of the front car wheel.The drive was long and fun, and we had the most unique driver on this side of the country, who tends to forget that he is supposed to look at the front through the windshield while driving a car and had a keen urge of asking for directions in a strech of absolutely straight road. The Ghats were nice, with green covers of thick dense vegetation, overshooting in all directions in the perpetual company of rains. There were bouts of rains, it would drizzle for a little while, then it would pour in thick transluscent sheets, it would come from all directions, even from the ground, and then it would suddenly disappear only to return in its usual calculative self after an hour.Not that we were complaining much about it. Why should we complain? We got time and nowhere definite to go. Our vacation had started.

Day - 1 :Phase-2 : Raging waters:

After around eight hours of drive, we had reached the brink of the State. We reached our first checkpoint. Coupleof back-to-back beaches with hurling waters and thick wet sands littered with brown-black rocks and dense vegatations. It was an absolute opposition to the picture of the white sandy beach where you would roll down in slumbering laziness with a bottle of juice in hand.The sea here was rough, insane and distraught, and big waves would snap at the land with a deep resonating rumble. Waves that would, in an instant, hurl at you like a giant whip if you get too near for too long, and when it receds, it would drag you along, and bury you knee-deepin the lurking wet sands. It was evident that the sea would not tend to our frolics and whims, neither did we intend to. It was a place where you need to sit and surrender at the greater might of nature, its overpowering grandeur, regal, ruthless, driven by dark rolling nimbus clouds merging with the waters in near infinity. It would fill you with refreshing tiredness, you would forget, for a while, the pending deadlines looking ruefully at you in coming weeks. You would look up at the sky as the first drops of rain hit your face with its stinging comfort and you would stare at the absolute vastness of raging waters from the top of the rock-face, jutting right out from the sea and fightingits eventual annihilation with equal defaince. It was a place where you are no more than a tiny audience.It was what you would call a dark and grim beauty.

Day -1 : Phase-3 : Crystal Ship:

It was twilight by the time we left the beach and headed to cross the State border. The sea had infused a subdued sense of overwhelm. It had started raining again. This time it broke its usual routine. This time the sky broke. We were stuck in the small car, among the dense foliages and the Ghats all around, now only an irregular shape bending down at us like a giant pre-historic monster. Our driver was at the small hamlet thats being used as a make-shift cross-border check post. And we sat silently, windows rolled up, listening to the intoxicating drumming of the raindrops on the roof of the car, staring at the patterns made by the pelting waters on the frosted windsheild. Many of them leaving a winding trail as they made their way to the bigger droplets. The air outside was heavy,inside, it was heavier. All the four windows now had a thick layer of moisture, and whatever little daylight was left casted a weak bluish glow as we kept on listening to the deep rumble of the shifting clouds and pouring rain. It was almost eerie, as if we were trying to look at the world from the belly of a small blue crystal ship.

Day -1 : Phase -4 : Kasaragod :

It was a good fourty-five minutes after which the rain had mellowed down to a drivable downpour. And the last twenty kilometers tookover an hour by the car. There was a particularly scary moment in the drive, when I saw from the backseat nothing but dark infinity in the pale cone of light comingout from our singular headlight. The trees were gone, the road was gone, lost in the anonymity of darkness, and the weak beam of light revealed nothing but sheets of water and twirling vapours of fog. It was as if we had reached the edge of the world and was about to fall down in the sea of nothingness lying beyond. It was night by the time we reached Kasargod. Cold and rain-drenched, we had a sumptous meal and fell down and slept like dead soldiers.

Day -2 : Phase -1 : Kasaragod :

It was daylight in the town and still cloudy. The rain had stopped pelting though. It was more of a gentle drizzle now. The town was a little hard to comprehend for absolute city-folks. It was a town that cannot change, it was a town that has its own way of life, it was almost eight thirty and the streets were stll not fully awake, and peoplewere slowly opening the shutters with sleepy red eyes. The town is trapped within the Ghats and its rains and its clouds. The streets were heavy with vapour, and thick smoke coming out from the stoves of the tea-stalls by the dank and mushy strech of broken asphalt. The very odour of the town will drive you into a slow, satisfied, zombie-walk in that air, filled with moisture of the clouds and reeking dense foliages. While it is undoubtedly true that our appearances and gait must have screamed "total strangers" but it was a wonderful feeling to be lost amidst that incredulous collection of humanity. It was almost just the place I wanted to be in.

Day -2 : Phase - 2 : The Countryside :

The interiors had, other than the perpetual sheild of vegetations and coconut groves dripping wet in the moist air at the left and almost a continuous strech of rolling sea water on dark sands at the right, couple of old forts moderately tarnished by generations of green ferns. The two forts appeared almost replicas of each other in my eye, with a slight difference in size and the larger fort that was right at the edge of a rock-wall overlooking a good hundred feet fall almost directly into the sea, had a pair of tall elevations that must have been used as watch-towers staring right at the restless sea.There was also this sufficiently large stretch of much quieter and darker backwaters that lined the southern part of the district that flows around a collection of closely packed islets thrown carelessly like large green bubbles on the surface of the water. It was then when we had this urge to find a place where they serve oysters.Ultimately we found that the resort ( whose name was also 'Oyster' incidentally ) needs to be reserved and pre-booked. We had to comprmise finally with some snaps of sea-shells littered all over the place.

Day -2 : End of the line:

The trip ended there. Essentially after the last of sea-shell snaps. Everybody knew it, and were making merry the way they should after a wonderful two day break, for old time's sake. The return jouney was scarier. As it was dark, and the new route had a good fifty kilometers more to drive, and our driver was a stepcloser to insanity by that time. It was also by that time it was evident that there was something funny going on with the mechanics of the car. Visibilty was low and cars fromoppsite direction appeared dangerously close behind the blinding glare of the headlights in thick fog. We grabbed on to our jackets against the sharp air. It was time for meto get slouch back and turn the music on. It was close to dawn when the first gleam of city lights appeared at the horizon.

Some people among us might have this liking to know from before when somebody they love might cease to be with them, others prefer the sudden alacrity of the situation. While some of us prefer preparing for the end of the finite thing called life, bracing to see that person whom they love whither away to dust,I realized that I am among the other section of the community. I am not a prophet set to set an example by seeing the 'end of it'. I don't want to go through the process of seeing the beginning of the end. Life, as it is, you will always find yourself in situations you don't want to be in.

Is'nt it amazing how an apparent effort of orderliness has always been the precursor of misery! A friend oncetold, "there is no such thing called 'a good time', it's the transition between the bad times" It is the only sentence I have come across in last few months that I really think is true. To be honest, after probably two years, I was once again making few cheerful agendas for the upcoming festive seasons, the way an average Bengali staying away from home would make.

I have always recognized the alarming difference between the plans we think and the things we do,nonetheless, I like the idea of planning, it helps to ignore one straight twenty seven hours shift in the office.A dearest friend is getting married, willing to attend that as well. But life has always obtained an almost perverse pleasure out of coaxing jokes on the ridiculously weaker ones - we humans - picking up moments in life like a filthy one-winged blind sparrrow picking at grains in a haystack.

Sometimes even if you don't really understand someone, despite the very suppressed indifference, you might want to adore and respect that person. That person who can best be described by Bob Dylan's 'Like a Rolling Stone' .

Sometimes you just don't need sympathy. It doesn't help. Everybody knows it, but nobody understands it till they face it.

Obladiblada 'Brudder'..!!!

Oh Me......!!!

Don't you ever do this...??

Being primitive.

I went through this stunningly writen post of a certain 'Luscious Sealed Lips' about certain wonderous moments, fears and expectations of being a woman. Man, it was intense.It had some intense alien force associated with it. Brilliantly narrated but somehow, it was one of those posts where I had nothing to comment. It is one of the best - written posts I have come across in few days, considering the subject of the post itself. It might infuse an extra bit of a certain wary - fearful respect for womankind. However, that's the end of it. This post is not for me to comment.


It did make me think, if ever that is possible, what would be, or could be, a conversation between two guys. You know, a certain, so-called, 'Man - to - Man' moment. I wanted to be perfectly hypothetical with my brains bulging out from my skull. It is surprising I could'nt arrive at a single, coherent, albeit hypothetical conclusion. There could have been n-number of conversations to describe MANkind. And it need not be that long as well.


A : "Can you lend me some money? I have this 'thing' to take care. I'll pay you back next month."
B : "What's this 'thing' ?"
A : "Later dude, look, my account number is XXXX XXXX XXXX XXXX. I-connect it today."
B : "Cool."

Okay, that was the majority.

Let us go back to God.....

It is not homosexual to truely admire a male for a quality he has and we lack. There would'nt have been this many male leaders and preachers if that was the case - that being said after ruefully accepting the fact that most of our male preachers - spirituals especially, do tend to go easy on their clothing - but thats a completely irrelevant, blasphemous, almost fatal consideration which frankly I would not like to, well, consider.

However, it is true that it is not less than a miracle how someone can mesmerize you into this beautiful stupor, that can force you to voluntarily be in that pitiful state - a smokey room in a smokey afternoon. Another day's work gone,the empty house smirks at you with its usual gloomy scum. Sometimes, you wonder if silence can speak after all, as noises created by you start sounding different. Well, if you can't use your voice to speak, you can always listen to somebody's voice. And you have the means to make it sound better.

And there it was, standing tall in the seventeen inch laptop window, mesmerizing me a zillionth time, these equally stupified humans who befriended that glorious era of music.

Those were the times when probably the Yankees used to look up at the sky for a Russian A- Bomb.