Monday, November 22, 2010

Monday, October 4, 2010

Starry Starry Vincent

Vincent Van Gogh happens to be my favourite atrist. No wonder I love listening to Don Macleans Starry, Starry Night so much. Some times, when I look at his paintings in blues and yellows, the colours seem to spill over and colour my life in shades of the Sun Flower or the Irishes. I regale in the most Van Goghesque maddness of colours. Some times you don't need a brush to paint your are enough! All of us have a madness within us. All of us have a Van Gogh. Are you in touch with the Van Gogh within you?

Starry Starry Night
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue.
Colors changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

what all began at 90!

When I was in school, a friend stayed at the threshold of her adolescence which means her 13th year for three full years till we refused to accept her age. I have found most women find it difficult to admit how old they are. May be the same applies for men... I am no man ! so I can't give you the exact way a man's mind works. Since, none of us are growing any younger we can only hope that by God's benign justice this entire equation of growing old converts to something like growing young. What if we suddenly woke up to discover we are candles and the longer we stand we are likely to grow younger. What joy!
We would be born, may be ninety years old to much younger parents. Imagine the diapering woes of such huge individuals and the task of rocking them to sleep etc etc etc. Imagine taking the children out in prams and pinching their cheeks and saying oh so sweet!  It would be such an unflattering experience. Oh! and the first prom!
Jokes aside, birthdays are such wonderful milestones they tell, you have not aged but you have lived life! Enjoy every moment of your life.....tell the world that you have lived that much and this far!

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

.....Of becoming a Journalist!

When I was ten years old I had brought out a handmade newspaper. It had the most unimaginative name - Santa News Times and was shaped like the head of the Santa Claus cut out from a Santa Claus mask which I had. The newspaper had just three copies - carbon copies rather! It had four to five articles generally dealing with who(among friends) was not talking to whom and when and why. Once in a while it also had a happy story of warring factions making up. But rarely! The paper also provided comparative analysis of sweet shops and profound deliberations on why one shop sold the better ones and how the other could improve.  However, doing all of that, it never struck me that this was what I ever wanted to do in life.
My first brush with the word journalist happened in class seven. At that time I wanted to become a school teacher. A new girl came to our class and she said she wanted to grow up and become a journalist. I liked the word not really understanding the nitty gritties of the trade. I remember on a few occasions when  asked, saying, " I want to be a journalist," just to create effect.
I grew up wanting to be many other things rather than a journalist. I never thought I was a great writer. I still feel my sister who is a professor of commerce is a better writer than me. But I was inquisitive and I used my nose for news. I knew what exactly was cooking in my neighbours home( literally, no puns). I stayed away when they cooked spinach and timed myself exactly when they were to serve the chicken( yet another journalistic trait). But I guess, I was destined to be one. Now, having spent twelve years being paid for what I am writing, writing is the only thing I can imagine doing. Thus, I still write copies of who is talking what and about whom and provide comparative analysis of things which could never be as dear to my heart as sweets!

(That girl  in school who wanted to become a journalist went on to become a fine english teacher. While I became what she wanted to be. Maktub?)

Monday, August 30, 2010

Goals in life change in a moment!...2

At one point in life I wanted to be an artist. I spent two years of my life very seriously pursuing art with the hope that I would join the art college. I spent hours and days at the Kolkata museum sketching statues and figurines to get the exact proportions. My life was smudged with vivid shades of the water colour. I had so many hopes about my prospective career in art.  But then my art college entrance exams came few days after I had taken my admission for my literature classes. In fact, it coincided with the day I had my freshers welcome. The freshers welcome came with the prospect of such wonderful excitement of the clothes we would wear, of friendships we would make and of course the spells of ragging we would face, that I just did not go for my art entrance exams! In that brief yet decisive moment when I boarded a different bus my life changed.  Though I don't regret having studied literature. I do regret not having pursued art. Some times I wonder how different my life would be had I taken up art?

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Goals in life change in a moment!...1

You know, when I was twenty four I looked at life very differently. My aim in life was to have a sports car, a pent house in New York by thirty three. I was working hard at it, pulling up all stops that came my way. But then, all of a sudden I met this new co-worker with whom I got talking about our goals and dreams in life. He heard me quietly and when I finished he related his dream, "I dream of being a station master in a small sleepy station where only one train comes in a day....where there is a small boy there who never grows," he said. In a moment my pent house crashed and the brand new sports car that I planned for life just whizzed away. In a moment my life changed. Many who knew me at that age thought I had lost my ambition. But to me I had a new dream. Sometimes getting off the bus and taking a walk is not bad either.  You might think I am a motivational disaster!  But I choose to take the detour......