The Verandah

This tale gives you a small glimpse into the lives of local calcuttans - simple people, slow life and fish. The air has culture, good music, books and smiling faces. The taxi driver (we respectfully call as ‘dada’) will be updated with the latest political scenario and aware of his own rights. You will always be welcome to this city, doesn’t matter where you come from. Here’s a small tale from the city of joy.

Rita woke up to her day at 6 AM, her mother had called her twice and the third would be dangerous. Ma was always worried if Rita missed waking up at 6, her day would be wasted, a logic she never understood. Baba was attuned to Ma’s logic and followed the same. Her house was falling apart financially each day and she often thought it would the last day in her father’s inherited house on the tiny Kali lane. Contractors had made various offers and they contemplated each of those against their memories of Didun (grandmother) and none of them were good enough. How could they be? Last 6 generations had been living here and dying here. The memories run deep in their blood.

Rita was a PHD in microbiology and she went off to various offers with her small file to end up rejected. They said they needed her to know the computers well or they couldn’t pay enough. They never needed her knowledge and yet that’s all that she knew. She’d probably compromise with the work but the city was slowing down, falling apart, most of her friends were jobless and flying out. Didun’s memory never let her consider that. Maybe she would some day just go away to save Didun’s house. But today was not that day, today she would just wait it out.

She pushed away the CV file by nudging it a little with the corner of her arm and sat up on her bed. It was a 3foot high bed with wooden carvings on the head and it had four support pillars going up creating a rectangle for the mosquito net. It was made of pure Mahogany and this used to be Didun’s bed. Ritu slipped into her slipper and walked to her favourite place on earth – her Varandah.

It was a small potrution from the main house into the lane (possibly illegal by the present land laws) with tiny little flower pots and a parrot swinging mightily with the breeze. The little garden was Ritu’s creation of her travel adventures. She hadn’t seen the world but she wanted to. She had read of it and she imagined each place in her head. How Sherlock’s Baker Street would have been like. How the baboons from Africa (Chander Pahar) would be like. How wild animals in Africa ran. How the most dangerous mountain was like. How the valley in Holland would look with a full bloom. She wondered sometimes. Other times she would look at her little garden and think she’d be there someday and brush her palm against the rose.

Maina, her parrot (ironically Maina is the name of another bird) was named by Didun. It was a joke her grandfather made of. He would say that all of Kolkata’s people always dreamed so small that they would name a parrot with the name of another ordinary bird, scared it would fly away, just like a parrot should. He was a scientist in the Saha Institute and was forcefully retired due to false allegations that never got proven or resolved. Didun however was no less, she hailed from a little town in Kalna, had completed her biochemistry from the Bardhaman University and that was it. Her marriage had got in the way. Didun kept writing and helped Dadun (grandfather) in the lab work whenever she could. Ritu always looked upto her ability to manage both sides of the household. Ironically, Didun had slipped on the Verandah due to wet floor and had a sever hemorrhage ending in her sudden death. It was widely discussed in the joint family whether the Verandah was unlucky and if it should be broken off. Luckily the current laws required them to first make it a legal part for working on it. There were some complications and work needed to be done before it could be brought down. Procrastination must have orginated in Calcutta (Kolkata) Ritu thought. Any work that needs work can be assumed to never be done by the Calcuttan. She smirked. Her little cat pressed her skin on her feet and she caressed it. Her little world was just perfect.

She could hear her mother call her for the breakfast. She would have to help her, so she scurried her way quickly to the kitchen, glancing at her little Verandah again, her heaven, her little breath of fresh air.

-Inspired by the new film ‘Verandah’ by Rituparna Sen Gupta

The Airport

Have you noticed the people around the farewell destinations?
The airport,
The train station?
A crowd full of strangers with a few smiling faces,
The smiling favourite faces of your family and loved ones;

Ever noticed it being one of the most famous places in movies,
However cheesy it sounds,
It still touches our soul,
Because we all relate to that one feeling,
The feeling of letting go,
The feeling of farewell,
The feeling of holding on;

It's not convenient,
I know that,
But then what kind of a life did you want?
Just convenient?
Or great?

Look beyond the small things,
Love with all you got,
The best things in life deserve so much more,
The best things in life need a reason to stay,
So be there for your best friend,
Be there for your parents,
Be there for your partner,
Just be there.....that is one of the best ways of being anyway....isn't it?

Easy is not love

Easy is convenience,
Easy is not love;

Love is breaking all bars,
Going across the border,
Taking the bullet,
Running for miles,
Missing the flight,
Going the long way,
Missing the million dollar deal,
Finding a way;

Love is hard,
What people want is this,
But the price they are willing to pay....
Is convenience..so what are they looking for?

I don't know,
It's just another fable

Sometimes....maybe it's love

You seem to like each other so much,
You can't stop talking,
There's a urge to catch up,
It really just us,
And yet you're waiting for the other person to nudge,
It really just is hard,
Can a meeting be so meaningful,
Should we wait it out,
It feel so right though,
So can it be love after all?

Or are we in the loop again,
We don't want a messed up tale,
And what's meant to be stays,
So is it or is it not?

Sometimes maybe love is fast,
It feels right after all,
Let's see where the journey leads

Just another thing

There will be a million,
A million who promise of love,
What matters is what are they willing to do?

Are they willing to go the mile,
To walk the distance,
To embark on the daunting challenges of life?

Do they help you seek what you look for each day,
Do they partner in,
Do they give a lot to become a part you?

That is the man a woman needs,
The love that stands the test of time,
Because this and only this is where the chance begins,
For you to love truly and madly,
The rest is like a promise that fades when you test it out,
So you have to be ruthless,
And not light hoped to the second best;

The best awaits,
And it will meet you someday,
From moon to back,
Any journey they shall embark,
You too shall deserve the best,
You too shall meet them there;

Home

Time for homecoming.....this weird feeling of excitement, when nothing on earth can disembark me from my roots. To be truly connected to your roots is a power of unbelievable strength, almost like vulnerability gives us strength. This is how it feels like to be home

Some of us are lucky to have it,
The place I think better than heaven,
Where else do you find such solace,
Such selfless love,
Such warmth,
The feeling is called home;

Every family is not home,
The brick and mortar isn't home,
It is a feeling one had to build,
Something my parents did,
And we eventually became a part of,
It never occurred to me until now,
Every penny we saved,
Every hardship we faced,
Made the foundation stronger,
And that was built slowly,
And it stands like a rock,
I know nobody can shake,
And that's what I am so proud of,
The home we built;

I'm an idealist in so many ways,
Today's world celebrates the villain so much,
That sometimes you feel like a misfit being an idealist,
But think about it,
What takes more courage,
The running away?
Or facing it?
What the world I believe is trying to address is the hypocrisy,
The ones who try to show they face it but aren't,
So the joker may be better,
He atleast is himself,
But the batman......we'd swear for him anyday;

Home could be people you meet on the street someday,
You meet them for the first time and they just get you,
It's crazy right ?
It's the feeling;

Home can be the old philosopher in your town,
Who has the world of romance sorted,
Shall die single,
But has loved once and still bathes in its glory,
It completes him in a way most couples could never mean it,
It's the feeling;

Home can be passion,
Where you immerse yourself in,
And the more you become a part of it,
It encompasses your whole being,
It still defines only a part of you,
It's the feeling;

Home can be the ringing of christmas bells,
Decor of diwali lights,
Sound of durga puja bells,
Sound of tranquility in the himalayas,
The hug from your favourite friend,
The time stopped in your lover's eyes,
It's the feeling;

Home is nothing less than magic,
But we must seek it,
In people, in places, in every little corner of the world,
It's right in front of us,
But we can't see it, unless we seek it,
And what do we do when we find it ?
Show how we don't need it ?
The whole vicious cycle of needlessness arises from neediness,
Only a lonely soul can paint a picture of emptiness,
Strength is in accepting, evolving, learning,
Strength is in building homes,
The little ones that you run to when it was a really bad day,
When you really screwed up,
This is that fort of yours which can embrace all faults and still nurture you,
Home is that heaven which saves our souls !

Curious

How things change round us is a lot on us,
We are responsible for the person we are,
And the person we pretend to be,
For the learners we are,
For letting go of all the past experiences,
For willing to be vulnerable,
For letting down the guard,
For just letting people be;

People are people,
Some bring hope,
Some bring hate,
Some bring stability,
Some bring desire,
Some bring mental resonance,
And some bring healing;

Being able to absorb the right energies in our souls,
Is a part of being curious,
Hold on to the right people,
And when it feels like it and the mind is clouded,
Wait it out,
Sometimes the best things can only have a test of time,
For what's true will stay,
For what's real will always stay,
Let the mind be curious,
For its edge is through it,
And the heart will find solace,
For that is what is meant to be always;

Once

It's been a long journey,
Loading from harbour to harbour,
Fetching the weights,
It never ends,
And I never seem to go home,
I've got used to doing it by myself,
In shallow waters,
Maybe that's what we look for,
A home in someone,
The warmth in real people,
Someone we could trust,
And they won't fail us like every other time;

Just this once,
They'd see we're broken,
Shattered maybe,
But will stay this once,
Build again,
And wait it out,
Let home become,
Just this once....maybe?

The Dilemma

Because some people just had it hard,
They've pulled the trigger and learnt to numb down,
They want you to try harder,
They want you to stay,
But the last time people walked away,
So they stopped saying,
They stopped loving,
Sometimes I feel only you can save us;

The door's shut,
With chains, guards and entanglements,
The last time we burnt,
We learnt that's how it works,
So we dumped emotions in a pool,
And shut it out away from us,
And escaped into the world of passion,
Lost in art and work,
Which didn't burn us ever,
Not once;

We've become twisted,
We want somethings,
And we act different,
Sometimes we are so confused,
We even forget which is which;
So, when things come our way,
Just what we were looking for,
We can't let it in,
Not anymore,
The bitter after taste was bad enough,
We'd rather not burn another death,
And yet we are stuck between the lines,
Thinking if burning is the price we must pay?

Dilemma it is,
Oh, do soulmates even exist?
It is true we were meant to be,
Can things so fast even manifest to some more?
Dilemma is it.....I once again am entangled in

The Roller Coaster

Life's a roller coaster without the adrenaline gush (or not quite like the literal one)

As the semesters came to a conclude,
We realized we had made ourselves sisters from other mothers,
We lived in each others skin practically,
We weren't ready to part ways yet....
That is when it dawned on us,
To savour the little left college time to the fullest,
That is when my so prim and proper college attendance slightly dropped,
And our professors knew just how it was going to go from here;

Here's where we hit the roller coaster.....

Our day chalked into one of the best days we'll ever remember,
And the Chitterne chatter with the risks,
Everything was great,
We seated ourselves in the tumultuous ride,
And gleefully smiled at one another,
Promised to not close our eyes,
At the peak of the rail,
And then it started with a small screech,
The little engine threw us up into the air,
And we hit the rational self thinking again....should we die, what will be amiss?
This wasn't all,
The world was unconquered,
The dream has just begun,
The list was incomplete,
But in this moment we were complete,
Content, happy,
Happy to part with soul sisters,
Happy to know people who would have our backs for a lifetime;

And today we do the 8 year cycle,
Well, research does say.....this is gonna last a lifetime,
The real roller coaster is on a roll,
But we know it's going to be together !

The scared | the guarded

It's going to take time,
It's going to go slow,
I don't trust the gushing wind anymore,
For things too fast, go away just as much,
The ones who stay were meant to be,
The ones who care are rare to be,
I'm handing out no love anymore,
I'm guarded and scared,
I need to be,
Not because I wouldn't like the stability,
But because humans have become vain,
Their whole character has come tumbling down,
They judge you on your clothes,
And measure you on the scale,
They've lost the idea of innocence,
And have lost faith in little things,
They want the soulmate,
But work nothing like it,
They've just become vain,
Dull, dark, miserable beings,
And I am a misfit,
I love with a bare soul,
I keep my family close,
I love the warmth of close ones,
And I bathe in their glow,
I have this little nest of mine,
So perfect that I keep it close,
Different, I am very different from today's youth,
And this is me;

So I know,
When love will come,
I need to be sure,
It will not blow the whistle,
And will wait out the hardships,
For the fairy tales are great,
But the ones that don't stay,
Hurt more than ever,
And I am just keeping myself safe,
So a hurricane doesn't pick me from my storm,
And place me on another one,
I need to be sure,
That it is as true and pure,
As I am,
As beautiful and strong as me;

It cannot be just another story,
It can only be the one,
And beautiful it is,
The forever I want;

Selfmade

I belong here. I always liked to think this was true until I was confronted with a very new perspective. And now I know, no one's self made.

Yes, we make our choices
But would you finish college if your parents hadn't saved?
Would you live if the orphanage didn't support you?
Would you stay without that sponsor of yours?
Would you live if you were the front row soldier in World War II?
Would you be anything if it weren't for everything around you?

You make your choices and that's a great thing. But we are not self made, we are an integration of all that comes our way. All we do is choose whenever we can. And that's why we should be greatful any day for all we have.

The road

We've been made differently,
In a unique way we all differ,
From one another,
In tiny little ways,
And then we become the distinct tiny atoms of uniqueness;

To that somethings compliment,
To a lot of us, it is the road,
The wind in the hair,
And the green around,
For a moment we feel free,
And we sense security in freedom,
Adventure in speed,
And lots of love with the right company,
For some it is their own;

Like the runner's drug,
The road has one too,
It will call upon you from time to time,
And wanderlust will hit,
Plan your road journey with the best people around;

Messing it up- old school and romance

It's like a fairy tale,
How we think of it,
And the funny things is,
That is all there is to it;

The small things,
The innocence,
The naturally growing fond of someone,
The little moments,
All of it;

What it is not,
Is the pre calculated flavours,
The needs and wants being measured,
The power struggle,
The ego clash;

Let it happen,
Love is uncertain,
And it is at the core of its nature,
It is a leap of faith none can define,
And to limit it by our understanding is fatal,
It is he simple things,
The adrenaline,
And that's all there is to it,
That's where magic lies;

The complicated human,
Thinks one could make more of it,
One could measure it,
One could define the rules,
And apprehend the probabilistic result,
Neither of which of true,
As messed up love is,
We complicate it further,
Fools we are to think,
It can be smothered with parameters,
The whole feeling of magic,
Is what we are pulling out,
Sweet old romance,
Almost leaving our place;

To old school and the little times,
I hope we learn to trust the fleeting moments,
I hope we learn to trust the magic of feeling love,
And that is all there is to it;

Snow - the dire wolf

It was the eyes first,
And then the thick white fur,
They gleamed at me as if,
As if it needed me,
Needed me to not let it down,
Like mother would look me in the eye,
After multiple manaces put up with,
I looked again,
And it lay there still hoping I would better,
With an axe in my hand;

My hunger growled,
And the adrenaline pushed me further,
It was meat, just meat,
And all of snow laden Ladakh,
Didn't have any food for me,
Just one inmate,
I could save or eat ?

So I looked again,
And my memories came flooding back to me,
How I left all responsibilities,
And ran into the hills,
How I wasn't making some people proud,
How I craved their love still,
How things had just overturned,
I then let the axe slip out of my hand,
And cupped my new friend 'Snow' in my hands;