Friday 31 August 2012

I wish...


·        I had a feather in my wallet. On low-mood days, I would take it out and scratch my ears. Bliss!

·     Someone could gift a ‘3 to 5 years’ activity book and a box of crayons on my birthday. I would colour apples, oranges, airplanes and Noddies, join the dots and spot the difference.

·    Showing of/off the cleavage was an easy task and could be done effortlessly, without feeling shy.

·        I could sing the “jo bhi chaahe kahiye” part of “Raat akeli hein..” without cracking my voice or sounding demented.

·      I had clicked a photograph with that bride whose wedding we had crashed. That way, I could remember her face forever.

·        I could share a fistful of bread crumbs with a sparrow. Right now.

·     I had a huge poster of Heath Ledger in his Joker avatar on my bedroom wall. It would be sexy!

·  People could understand that “making love” and “trying for a baby” aren’t synonymous.

·    The joy of reading “predictions for the day” (with pictures of Madhuri/Salman/Sanjay Dutt) on weight cards at the Metro/Railway station was not inversely proportional to the weight it reflects.

·        Walls had ears. And eyes. They could make great friends.

·        I could lead the life of a concubine atleast for a day.

·        Red lipsticks and red nailpaint looked lovely on me.

·        I could name the lizards on my wall. I have somehow grown to love them.

·        Mondays never existed. And the second half of a Sunday.

·        The “Finding Nemo (3D)” poster wasn’t this cute. “Sea the greatest underwater adventure in 3D”.

·     People realised that a plant makes a better gift than a bunch of flowers. On birthdays and anniversaries.

·        I could work at the Security Check of an Airport or a shopping mall. It would be fun to peep into strangers’ purses.

·        They had perfumes with ‘phenyl’, ‘naphthalene’ and ‘petrol’ fragrances.

·        I could wear more of Khhadis, Kanthas and Kalamkaris.

·        Once in my entire lifetime, someone would ask for my autograph.

·        I could make love to a 40-something year old Rabindranath Thakur (for days).

·        I could tell my man about it.

·        I never wished so much…


Wednesday 29 August 2012

kachher manush..


“Tui bhishon banglay bhabish aar banglay likhish. Tor engreji lekha gulo shob banglay bhaba. Kirom bhyeto bangali tui!” Ekjon eta khub bole amay. (Blog na, oke lekha love letter poreo eta bolto!) Amar je tatey etotuku lojja nei, borong bhishon gorbo seta bojhe bolei bole hoyto. ‘Bheto bangali ekta!’ Gaalir modhhyei je koto ta ador lukie achhe shey bojhe? Bodhyoy. (Ma-er ‘phajil ekta’ bolar moto, tai na?)

Bangla font download hochhe na. Nanan hyapa. Tai engreji font ei likhchi. Banglay.

Ek soptah hoye gelo Bombay esechi. Bhulei gechi berate esechilam. Paanch din tana  hospital, ICU, osudh, nanan nol, dactar, raat jaga…..

Dujon khub kachher manusher ekjon hospital e. Amar mesho-sosur aar mashi sasurir sathe Bombay asha..oder meyer kachhe. Amar ek colleague bolechilo “tor meshososur ager jonme tor baba chhilen ba boyfriend. Ja possessive.” Shunei shanti hoechilo..ki jani keno.

Nursing home e shuye achen. Gyaan hotei bolchen, “Parama, ghhum hochhena tomar raate, tai na?”

Kachher manush…
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Mashimoni. Somporke mashisasuri. Kichu manush ache jader ami jwarer jwal-potti boli. Mathay chhoyalei araam. Mashimoni. Serom.
Eta bolei ekta purono kotha mone pore gelo…prothom alaaper onek pore, tokhon amar bieo hoe geche, Mashimoni ekjon ke bolchilo. “Bier agey, Parama jedin prothom amader bari ashe, sedin o nije nije fridge khule swandesh ber kore kheyechilo. Tokhoni bujhechilam o bhalo meye.” Bou hishebe bhalor maap-kathi etotai soja mashimonir kachhe.


Taare zameen paar. “Tujhe saab hein paata, hain na ma?” gaanta hochhe tokhon. Ondhokor cinema hall. Paash theke keu ekjon duto seat topke rumal egie dilo. Ami ghure dekhini ke sheta. Jaantam.



“Toder bachha hole thakur ke daakbi, sudhu gayer rong ta jeno tor moto hoy, aar shwab features tor borer moto. Tikolo naak, lomba, sharp features.”
Ami: “E abar ki? Amar ki rong chhara kichui bhalo nei? Tumi perfect baaje sasurir example”.
“Achha, mon tao tor moto chash tahole”.
Ami: “tumi amay ektuo bhalobashona.”
“Bashi bolei chai tor bachha sundor hok”
Aar tarpor eke oporer gaaye dhole pora hashi….


‘22shey Srabon’ dekhte dhukchi. Barbar oke bolchi, “Doya kor. Prochur gali ache cinema tay. Tor barir loker pashe amay boshashna.” O sune bollo, “achha tahole Mashimonir pashe bosh.”
Tokhon interval.
Mashimoni: “Ei tui eto aroshtho hoye boshe keno cinema dekhchish? Ei sob kotha ebong taar mane ami jani. Amader barir ulto dike ekjon oshhobhyo lok thakto, roj raate mod kheye bou ke petato, gali dito…tar mukhe ami ei shob kotha sunechi!”
Jaaak. Ebar seat er opor pa tule babu hoye boshe baki ta dekhi tahole…


Jokhon Bombay aschi plane-e, ki anonde chilo Mashimoni. Na thik meyer bari jawar anondo bolchi na. Meghh dekhar anondo!... “Megh gulo dekh Parama, eta volcanor moto, ota vanilla icecream, eta gas bondho korte bhule gechi…dudhh uthle porche, eta toshoker tulo pitie rakha…eta dudh saabu…”. Ami heshe lutoputi. Jeno ami 5 bochhor er bachha! Je bolchhe shey nijeo. Tarpor bole, “tor megher opor haantte ichhe kore Parama? Amar kore. Haantle mone hoy paa er byatha sob shere jabe amar”…Ahare. Bechari. Koto byatha kore paaye.
Ekhono korche hoyto. Ekta single patient-party r khhate amar sathe shuye achhe.


Aar ekta jinish dekhe bhishon ador ashe amar. Meyer jonno Kolkata theke jinish ana. Notunnotto nei kichhu. Baire meye thakle sob ma rai bodhyoy egulo nie jay..tobuo. Bhishon bhalo lage amar. Bori, Jhorna Ghee-er boro botol, mathhay makhar narkol tel, ilish, taaler bora, Dulal er taalmichri, Jowaner Arog....Egulo toh Bombay te pawa jayna! Tai.


ICU waiting area. Tension, chhutochhuti te amra dujonei bidhhosto. Doctor eshe dekhe gelo. (Doctor er dosh: Uni young!)
“Doctor er barite dekhechilam onar 4 te gari”.
Ami: Hya. Tar modhye ekta abar Audi. :(
“Nishchoi gari korei hospital e visit korte esechen.”
Ami: Tai hobe. Keno?
“Na. Tahole Gym-er bag ta garite rekhe aste parten. Ota kadhe kore ICU te anaar mane ki?”
Ami: Ema. Tai to!! Amio notice korechi.
“Hya, toke notice koranor jonnoi to koreche. Impress korte….dekho ami gym jai”.
Ami: Chhiiiii. Tomar bor ICU te, aar tumi earki korcho?
“Tor sathe je bhabe kotha bolchilo, bhoy hochhe dactar ta toke niye palale, tor bor ke abar na ICU te bhorti korte hoy!”

 
Nursing home-er room. “Dekh to Parama, TV tey Star Jalsha ashe kina!”


Mesho sosur ke jedin General Bed e shift kora holo sedin. Onake Mashimonir expert advice: “Parama onek koreche amader jonno. Tar mane ei noy je bubai er bou ele tumi take kom bhalobashbe. Khobordar! Partiality korbe na. Takeo eromi bhalobesho.” (Bubai = amar dewor)
Eta shune ami aro dosh goon beshi bhalobashlam Mashimoni ke. Notun kore.


Sosurbarir keu ‘o amar meyer moto’ bolle je kono bou er gorber sesh thhake na. Amar to generally life niye gorber awnto nei. Tai notun kore bolchi na seta.
Mashimoni konodin eta boleni. Bhabtam keno boleni?
Oromi kicchu ekta boleche etodine. Etto dine! “Parama amar chheler moto.”


Nursing home e boshe achi. Amar college er ek bondhu tar bhishon priyo kichhu line BBM kore poralo. As Good As It Gets. Purotai likhchi:
“I might be the only person on the face of the earth that knows you're the greatest woman on earth. I might be the only one who appreciates how amazing you are in every single thing that you do…..and in every single thought that you have, and how you say what you mean, and how you almost always mean something that's all about being straight and good. I think most people miss that about you, and I watch them, wondering how they can watch you bring their food, and clear their tables and never get that they just met the greatest woman alive. And the fact that I get it makes me feel good, about me.”

Mashimoni, nao, ei line gulo tomar …

Tuesday 21 August 2012

The 'Just Married, Please Excuse' Contest


This is an old post (not a very old one) which I want to pass as an entry for this contest. I had named this post “Speechlessness” and reproduce it here with a few edits.

The contest requires one funny incident from the just-married phase, while my post is a series of conversations, if not events. My rationale behind that is, (i) inspite of being married for almost six solid years, I can still pass “married” with a “Just” prefix and (ii) funny conversations with the other half are events enough in my life. (Do I sound desperate for an autographed book! Yes. Who cares?)

Here we go!

The characters in the conversations are married to each other (No prizes for guessing). P, the better-half (and obviously, the woman) and J, the other half (the man).

P: Do I look slim in this dress?
J: Can I be honest?
P: No.
J: You look like an hour-glass.
P: Ok. Honesty is the best policy.
J: Plump.
P:
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P returns from some work.
P: Wassup?
J: Now that you are here, you know what is up. (winks)
P:
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P: Hey you remember that first time we met?
J: Of course. How can I forget that? (sarcasm to be ignored)
P: Tell me what was I wearing?
J: Nailpolish.
P: What was I WEARING?
J: Earrings.
P: I am not Kate Winslet.
J: Oh that reminds me. I had better things to check about you. Sorry didn’t notice what you were wearing.
P:
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P (singing loudly): “subhah hone na de ..shaam hone na de…ek dusre ko hum sone na de”…what do you think of the song? I love it.
J: It reminds me of our suhag-raat.
P:
P:
J: Lights off. Sounds off. Camera off. Action! (evil grin follows)
P:
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P (after watching Kahaani): I wish I was Vidya Balan.
J: You don’t need to. I find you better.
P:
P:
P: You sure? Or you drunk?
J: Sure. I mean she is way more beautiful and all. But it’s like, Beer works better for me on a June-afternoon, than a Blue Label. Like that.
P: Whatever that means.
J: It means facts. Don’t mistake it as a compliment.
P:
P:
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P trying a dark eye make-up, a.k.a smoky look.
P: How do I look?
J: You look like Johny Depp.
P: Whaaaat??
J: Johny Depp. In “Pirates of the Caribbean”. (concentrates on the newspaper).
P:
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P seen here, wearing a dress which has all the colours of a rainbow and teased by random horny men on the street.
Men: Holi kaab hein? Kaab hein holi? (followed by wicked smirks)
P: J, they are eve-teasing and Eve is your wife. Stop them.
J (matter-of-factly): Tell them na, Holi is in March if they are asking you so many times. (and looks away)
P:
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P: It’s so late. I don’t think we’ll get a Taxi.
J: Wait. I’ll hide somewhere. You stand alone on the street. Remember “akeli ladki khuli hui tijori ki tarah hote hein”. Taxis are bound to stop. Then I’ll jump in.
P: This is how you use your wife???
J:  Yes. Now do what I tell you.
P:
P:
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P complaining.
P: Someone told me my nose resembles that of a PUG!.
J: Pug? Vodafone kutta, you mean?
P: Don’t make it worse. Just Pug.
J:  Who said? Tell him or her, I like honesty.
P:
P:
J: By the way, that’s your cutest feature. And the comparison makes it cuter.
P: :)
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Similar conversation.
P: Your Mama (uncle) says my eyes are like a cow’s. Meanness is hereditary.
J: But it’s a compliment. Cows have beautiful eyes.
P: Never thought about it. Oh yes.
J: Told you. Better, do something about your double-chin before people start comparing it with that of a cow. (Gabbar Singh laugh follows).
P:
P:
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P: Am I your Personal Secretary? Have you kept me ONLY to do all your work?
J: Yes. What else?
P:
J: You can also sleep with me. Like Personal Secretaries. (winks away to glory)
P:
********************************************
They flip through their wedding album.
J: With so many of your relatives surrounding me, reminds me of something.
P: What?
J: Gulliver’s Travels.
P: 
******************************************

In the midst of a serious discussion. P fuming.
J: You remember what was Oliver Twist’s best friend’s name?
P: How is that relevant? Anyways, whaat??
J: Master Bates.
P:
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P: If you ever had to have an extramarital affair, whom would you want it with?
J: Ladies first.
P: Irfaan Khan, may be?
J: Wah wah.
P: You?
J: You.
P: :)  

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