Monday, 24 September 2012

I realised...

·        Drenching in the rain is double the fun when you have a companion. Even if, it is one of your indoor plants.

·        Being taken for granted is thousand times more fulfilling than taking someone for granted.

·        Macaroon tarts from Kookie Jar work wonders. So does Rabindrasangeet. No matter what the given situation is.

·        Children do not fly kites or sail paper boats. Or talk to the gold fish swimming in an empty Horlicks jar. Do they?

·        You become truly happy when you pay her a surprise visit, she doesn’t get surprised at all and ushers you in with an “as-if-nothing-happened” look. The menu for lunch is not disturbed by frying an omelet for you. Instead some extra rice is all that is made.

·        Like conversations, letters can be without words. It would be fun to open a folded blank paper from a sealed envelope and read the lines (and the lines in-between) which were never written, knowing however, who the sender could be.

·        I don’t like Shreya Ghoshal most of the times. And Priyanka Chopra.

·        “Is sayani bheed mein bas haathon mein tera haath ho” is the simplest and the most powerful truth.

·        Urdu must be learnt someday for it’s beautiful. For the eyes and for the ears. 

·        I have this fervent desire to meet those who disliked “Kyon….” from Barfi on Youtube. They must be interesting. And their reasons must be so interesting too.   

·        Frooti tastes best when you drink it from the tiny tetra pack with a straw. You squeeze the pouch and keep on sucking at the straw till the last drop and even after that. Drinking from a glass robs it of its charm.

·        Two people can be friends on the basis of their differences. Just on the basis of their differences. And not similarities.    

·        Eating vegetarian food is as painful as a leg amputation.

·        The city is a human being for me. Every time I see my city in a movie, I silently scream out of joy. The same feeling of becoming ecstatic when you see your dad, next door neighbour, best friend getting featured on television.

·        Daydreaming about Salman Khan, fantasising yourself in a shocking red frilled dress (with a brown belt) and singing “yeh mausam ka jadu hein mitwa” was truly mood-lifting (minus the reverse counting of 10 to 1, and “let’s start the fun” part.). But, sadly I have outgrown it. Very sadly.

·        The crowded streets, traffic jams, the chaos, refusals by cabs and autos during this part of the year evoke enormous thrill. So does the Pujo-editions of magazines and newspapers (‘Pujo-sankha’, that is).

·        Even Vanilla icecreams in plastic cups taste good. If you lick the lid properly. When everyone is looking.

·        This happens to be my favourite rain song. “Srabono-borishone ekoda grihokoney….du kotha boli jodi kachhe taar…tahate ashey jabe ki ba kaar…”

·        Tears often define my likings. I judge books, movies, songs and human beings on the basis of tears they evoke. Unlike happiness, tears are difficult to generate.  

·        Shit happens. Sometimes, for good. Posts like this.....sigh!

Friday, 14 September 2012

Aaste, Ladies!

I opened my wallet. There lied four horizontally folded ten rupees notes. Horizontally folded. I smiled to myself. A bus ride. After ages.
And what fun bus rides were! Just the sight of folded notes and a rush of the adrenaline…..I remember how I used to impress my man by alighting a moving bus (I know, obnoxious I am), how chatty I used to get with the conductors and co-passengers, the first lessons of verbal abuse, the bum-frying experiences on bus-engines when sat upon, the favouritism towards Midis over Mini buses on account of their “Ladies” seats...
And that phenomenal statement “Aaste Ladies!!” Often followed by “Koley bachcha”. (people who are from my city would actually sense the tone, right now, isn’t it?....“Aaaaste ladies, koley bachcha!”). The use of “Ladies” in all its manifestations, especially for a single lady owes its origin to bus-conductors. “Ladies ke namie de”, “ladies ta ki dekhte mairi”, “apni ladies bole kichhu bolchi na” are some of the many uses of this extraordinary phrase while referring to a woman.  
Then, I have other much loved phrases as well. I repent not travelling in a bus too often. I miss the daily dose of humour, the witty conversations and the simplicity of ways of life. (As a word of abundant caution, I must mention here that by ‘Bus’, I mean those 42Bs, 37s, SD-4s and not those swanky A.C. Volvo buses).
A few months back, I was flipping through a book on Kolkata which had an excellent collection of phrases used in a bus. This post is a combination of my own favourites and those listed in the book.
1.      Bhara to baarlo, ebar taratari chalan (as if the speed of the vehicle is directly proportional to the rate of increase of its fares).

2.      Ami ki notun? Ami rojkar daily passenger (the annoyed passenger threatens the conductor when imparted ‘gyaan’. And not to miss the same fallacy of ‘suppose dhhor’ in ‘rojkar daily’!)

3.      Upto Howrah porjonto roj daily passenger kori, jaaneyn? (same as above. To add, the use of ‘upto’ and ‘porjonto’ in the same sentence).

4.      Laagley awaj hobey (Conductors to cars while overtaking them).

5.      Haalka kor (Conductor to driver asking him to slow down the bus so that a passenger can get down at an unscheduled stop).

6.      Pichone shatun (Conductor’s irritated exclamation towards passengers asking them to move away from the entrance towards the inside).

7.      Ei je dada! Boudir sindur-er kheyal raakhben. Handle dhore oto jhulben na! (Conductor to passengers standing on the footboard, almost hanging from the entrance)

8.      Dichhi-dichhi korben na! (Conductor to passenger delaying in buying the ticket).

9.      Ki dada, Fevicol na ordinary? (Question asked by a standing passenger to the one sitting right infront of him in order to know where he would get down. If the answer is ordinary, he would wait….if its Fevicol, the passenger would try his luck elsewhere).

10.  Barite ma bon nei? (For many men, ‘elbow diye thelbo’ is the order of the day. For their elbowing stances, this is the most common phrase used by female passengers.) Now, I have a story to tell here. In my entire life, I have used this sentence only once to which the reply was “jeta tomar songe korte chai, sheta to ma - bon er songe kora jayna”. On the indecisiveness as to whether I shall laugh,  cry or faint, I decided not to use this phrase ever.
And then there are hawkers to add colours to the bus-rides.
1.      Shishu kaande ma-er koley, pepsi-pepsi khabo bole (marketing ice-colas in thin plastic pouches priced at five rupees).

2.      Gaacher opor pakhir basa, pepsi khabo moner asa (same product)

3.      Joto chusben toto ross, na kinle company-r loss (no, not the same product. Marketing jelly lozenges, orange candies).

4.      Eije Dadara, idurer bachchara……jodi khhaye, oboshhyoi morbe (marketing rat poison).

5.      Kena-na-kena bektigoto byapar, dekhashona free (marketing general knowledge books, Kishore-Kumar-lyrics-in-Bengali books etc.)

6.      Chup-chap boshe na theke tuk-tak mukhh chalan (marketing Jhaalmuri).

7.      Debo naki? Chhal chhariye nun makhiye? (marketing raw mango)

8.      Benimadhob Sil-er phool panjika, bajare etar daam 20 taka…kintu amar kachhe eta apnara paben 10 takay. Tar songe company theke ekta teen takar dot-pen free. (marketing Bengali almanac).

9.      Agey khan pore daam, bhalo lagle company-r naam (marketing pathhar-hazam churans, amla candies, mouth fresheners etc.)

10.  Ek takay paanch, du takay dosh, na kinle apnar loss (same as above).

On another note, I remember a statement I made. “No one beats a Bong in this wisecracks. No one”. I chanced upon a picture made by my brother’s friend Avirup (NID graduate and a very talented soul) on speeding public-vehicles in Kolkata. And here it is.

I reiterate the statement I made.