Another lazy evening

"To Gladiators", announced Rajdeep as Anwar and Priyam raised their glasses.  The atmosphere was dull this evening and the three friends were stuck in Anwar's apartment, their plans of the weekend being erased by the shower outside. Priyam shook his head, "Raj, bring me something aesthetic from Italy. I don't want any alcohol shit. Something small and worth keeping would be great."

Rajdeep : You sound like Sreya. I'd get you something cool. A Facenti, perhaps?

Priyam : I'm serious, dude. Who knows where each of us will end up? I would like something that time won't touch.

Anwar, scrutinizing into his glass spoke up, " Boss, bring me a bottle extra then! He's right; we don't know where we are gonna be after a year. So bring me my liquor while I'm still alive."

Rajdeep chuckled. Life had turned out to be good in Kolkata. Rajdeep had figured out a simple truth. If you hurried in a slow city, you were sure to finish first.  He got up and walked up to the window. The drenched Jodhpur Park- Mod was not its usual self, with its emptiness penetrated by a few cars. He had too many dormant memories of this place; which he knew will forever be in that phase.

He turned towards his friends. Two talented, lazy Bengalis. 

Rajdeep : Hey Priyam, when am I going to get my book back?

Priyam : Don't worry. I still have it.

Rajdeep : I know. I'm not worried. I had lent it for a reason, dude. Someone else should read it. Bring it the next time we meet, please.

Priyam : Okay, man!

Anwar : Which book are you talking about? The God and Devil one?

An irritated Rajdeep let out a grunt. He shook his head as Priyam couldn't help laughing at his scowling.

Rajdeep : Just bring it back, okay?

Anwar emptied his glass and winked at Priyam.

Anwar : So Raj, tell us about the book.

Rajdeep : Yeah, fuck off.

Anwar : No man, please. Whether we read it or not, we can discuss the philosophy. Anyway, we are wasting time. Let's talk about your experiences from the book.

Priyam : Good idea.

Rajdeep : Okay. The book essentially says that any man can be God, given how he reacts to his situations.

Anwar : And? Do you agree?

Rajdeep : Well, if God is perception, then yes.

Priyam : Hmm. Well said. But then, what happens to the Man once he becomes God ?

Anwar : He fights with himself every moment to remain God, I suppose. What does the book say, Raj?

Rajdeep smiled. "The book never dives into this part, you know."

Priyam : But what would you say?

Rajdeep : "You either die a Hero or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain."

Priyam : Alright Mr. Dent. So being God has nothing to do with spirituality and everything to do with power?

Rajdeep : When perceptions dominate, truth is far from the actions.

Anwar : Let us keep perceptions aside. Islam defines God as undefinable. Your religious books have associated Him with everything one can and cannot see, virtually making him undefinable too.

Rajdeep : You cannot keep perceptions aside while speaking of the unknown.

Anwar : Well, you're right. So how will you bring spirituality alongside God?

Rajdeep : Well, people can do certain things in certain ways. That is essentially how God is viewed in religions. Whatever your path might be, if it's right then it will lead you to Him.

Priyam : Yeah, among so many paths it's also possible to chase illusions.

Rajdeep : Exactly. Coming back to your question about the Man, I think when a Man sees himself as God, he has taken the path of illusions. Hence, he will falter.

Anwar : Wouldn't you say that only God can truly become the Devil? No mortal, I think can achieve this feat!

Rajdeep : Yes, but he is the God of illusions.

Priyam : Wow! Scriptures are starting to make sense. Raj, just bring me a solid bottle of Amaretto!

Rajdeep : What happened to your senti-wala gift?

Priyam : I've just stepped on God's path, man! I need liquid. Liquid, my friend.

Anwar : The rain has stopped.

Rajdeep : Yes. It has.

Priyam : Chalo then! One last movie together !

The three friends walked out into the light drizzle accompanied by their umbrellas. A tiny thread of ideas went alongside, submerged into the unseen dimensions of this chaotic city; a city wrapped on its own.

Balurghat : the Jew of time

It has been a decade since I last flipped through any book on Geography. While writing this article now, I am having a faint nostalgia. I wish I was better accustomed to the grammar of mapping but I'd carry on anyway.

The eastern part of West Bengal resembles a nipple. On that nipple lies an extremely pseudo-peaceful town, Balurghat. This town has many peculiarities. One such strangeness is embedded in history. India got her Independence on 15th August, 1947! Balurghat, on the other hand enjoys two Independence days: the first one being 14th August, 1947 and the other being 19th August, 1947. In a way, Balurghat, thus is both ahead of and behind its time. This feature is quite visible in yours truly as a matter of fact.

Balurghat opens up to India narrowly through its North-West. On all three sides it is surrounded by Bangladesh. This probably was the reason why Pakistan 'mistook' my hometown as their territory during her birth. But thanks to the Indian Army who recovered Mother India's estranged nipple swiftly, me and my forefathers can call ourselves Indians.

The fact that this place saw enormous trouble during 1971, thus does not appear as a shock. Ever since, Balurghat has been a calm place. As my friend says, temples outnumber cigarette shops in Balurghat. He might not be too far away from the truth. Everyone needs distractions. Federal Banks need wars, students need movies, sports, politicians need beef, sex-workers need love. Similarly, peace needs religion. The people of Balurghat have nothing to do! It is a place which will never have industries. So there is no scope for any 'development'. A river that never dries runs right through the heart of the town supplying ample fresh fish for the belly-caressing Bengali population. Hindus outnumber other communities by quite a few orders of magnitude. So there is absolutely no reason for violence. Yet, being a border town crime can't be far away.

The funny part is that being non-industrious, there isn't any crime that affects day to day lives of people on the surface. Hence, we don't see daily murders. We don't encounter kidnappings. The money sits on only one throne in Balurghat : Road development.
All the major mastans, living, dead and half-dead have a stake in the road contracts. Thankfully, the border is manned by the Army. So the smuggling has so far been controlled to quite an extent. The Balurghat Municipality till two years ago was probably one of the best in India in terms of service. Our roads were never dirty, let alone pitfalls. It was safe to say that Balurghat used to be a vibrant and clean countryside.

But then the windmills anti-rotated all throughout Bengal. And nipples too respond to passion, don't they? It has long been said that passions lead to sins. Sins leave effect; on body and the soul. The bodily effects have begun to show. The roads, yesterday's bike-ride proved have become a bed for water. Surely, those in power here, love to bounce. The Balurghat, I see today, is bereft of the life that entered our blood a decade back. Life in my hometown resembles the Jews of Kolkata. Migration has taught us to swim. As far as life is concerned, time proves that roots were never in fashion.

Someday, a book or a movie would pop up revealing the history of Balurghat; history of a group of Boys, the last remaining flag-bearers of the spirit of Balurghat. That piece of art would be amazing for it would show everyone that life enjoyed by those boys was something special. The roads, the school, the Pujo, the river-bridges, the fields, the cycles, the friendship; the history was special. Someday we would come back on pages or screens; someday, when we will be needed; after the destruction that awaits this country would claim for itself what it should; someday, we will be essential.

God doesn't play dice. Nature doesn't either.

Lady in red and white

Lady, in red and white
Sayonara, bold and light
Lady, in my arms sometimes;
Take off you glasses
For the sake of your eyes,
                              my eyes.

Lady, standing by the rich man's cadillac
Pass another glance at me, the casual style
Lady, wearing the charm of days gone by
Wish you heard the music romancing time,
                                    my time.

My Lady, I feel like falling for you again
Womanizer, they call me, but I'm just a spy
Looking for secrets in the deadliest dens.
All risks lie behind enemy lines;
                               beyond love's eyes.

Won't you take off your glasses 
           For a new game of dice?
Ladders to end the competition
          To replay, we have the lies.

Grasshopper : Part I (The King's Lament)

So, the grasshopper hopped again
And you missed your chance
You come to me with your silly face
Not a trace of those wings of romance.

Where is the self-devoted tiny creature?
Guards and dogs, I cut you loose
Bring the grasshopper to your master
And will rain on you, bones and boons.

Wings are not allowed in my kingdom
For my people live by my rules
Me and my subjects are all grounded
In my land; dreams are not allowed.

And here comes a green bodied alien
Whose feet were never meant for the soil
O Arrogant, my doctrines have been silenced;
Your wings will be crucified; the remains, boiled.

But why O grasshopper do I fail again?
What is in you that reeks of fragrance?
I'm yet to apprehend you, O unknown life
When will I possess you, your dance, your flight?

Nazi in love

There are words left in me, for me
Words float all around me, to me
I can only be a craftsman today
For the depth currently, is beyond me.

I wish I had a flag for love
Would have had it painted
And waived you with an air,
Putting nations to shame.

And someday I would write
A line, eternal in my absence
Each stone of my history
Would have it carved on itself.

 I sit back in my chair asking myself
Who am I when it comes to reality?
The answers, peculiar, have surfaced :
I am a sword that hates blood
I am a wild horse who gallops alone
I am an ideology; a Nazi in love.

I am an extraction hidden in verses
I am gravity, waiting for mass
I am omnipresent in lives I've touched
I am future in a package of past.
As for the Nazi who steamrolled on dirt
I am Leni Riefenstahl, unbroken and art.