126 minutes of disappointment...

Things are getting sticky these days. I mean life has slowly metamorphosed to a sandwich. Can not grill it too much, neither can gulp it as such.

It is not even a hunky-dory; it is a stark loose-loose situation.

It was again that after a dozen of bootless hours I went on to put RAAVAN (the movie) on roll. I am not a 75 mm guy and hence have no problem with any number of “Thok de killi” sort of rag and nettles.

Ctrl key you know; I love that.

I have high regards for Mani Ratnam and Gulzar. I was also having lot of hopes from Rensil to repeat another Rang De Basanti after killing us by LUCK. Did anyone see that?

If you ever get a feeling to kill someone brutally please drop a DVD of LUCK in to his/her belongings. Even Samba is not as poisonous as the after affects LUCK will leave.

Anyway, let us keep the past perils aside and come to Raavan, the epic…. Acclaimed.

The film starts with a stone falling from a hilltop which is exactly 4 times the height junior Bachchan has.

Junior AB chased the same but the stone outsmarted him….and did so in the whole movie. Had I known that, I’d have not continued.

Now, with no prejudice and bias I was watching the movie because internally I am OK with Abhishek. He is good if not as good as SRK.

The movie starts from nowhere (most of such storylines starts from same or similar place) but unfortunately end nowhere as well….aaraghghhh

Beera (played by AB) is a messiah or a devil (only Mani knows) in a jungle; A rain forest.

He did absolutely nothing to display that he is a Ravan, I mean the 10 heads and stuff. A very local tribal rouge he looks and plays. Killing a dozen cops bare handed is easier that erasing a pencil written 420 from the collar of your friend’s shirt. Haven’t bollywood movies taught this for years and decades?

What was Ravan like in that? Grover has done this for number of times he has yawned.

Poor stuff Mr. Mani!!!

I am utmost disappointed.

Now coming to the art/acting part.

Why the hell these bollywood people think that acting means making faces, kidnapping girls (for girls it is asking their right to work), living in and saying “bakbakbakbakbak” … ehhh ugly, extremely ugly that is.

AB you were real good, rather wow (as Saif would have said) in Dostana or for that matter in DELHI-6..Masakkali

But this was sheer disappointment… I wont see next two movies of your. That is an intense promise.

(Aish)warya playing Ragini or whatever. I must be pardoned for missing her name as she is the one and only. Ever graceful and gorgeous, she has taken her weak role sort of successfully.

Anyone seen Aparichit/Aparichitadu?

Anyone? Any hands up?

No one…??

Do not watch now.

You will feel sorry about the distance Vikram has come from there.

He was a beauty, a delight, a star, stunning to watch and Mani has done him an Aaditya Pancholi of 90s.

The only good thing is his physique but that too is of no use as he is continuously thrashed by Beera.

Ehhh…. I feel cheated.

Same sister…same loving brother… same police..violence… same revenge but no it was a Mani Ratnam movie, something was to be different.

And that is the end….. Whooooppp

Square, triangle, cone, sphere

Ravan , Ravan everywhere.

And if this was little, here comes ever pathetic Govinda (his new avatar is pathetic for me) to dissipate you.

I am dead.

A very dear friend of mine once said, man Illairaja is a great composer but do not know why idiots get Oscars. I found truth in his words when Rahman got the same for Jai ho.. whatever.

But after this, I am sure. I second you my friend.

Had Rekha Bhardwaj not given her heart and soul to Ranjha Ranjha…….. I would have declared it as the worst album of my life.

But not all was gloomy……

Kudos to Ravi Kishan, you can watch the complete movie for him. So what if he has a very small share on the screen.

And now come the best.

Santosh Sivan, the man who deserve all round of applause. A great work he has done and you will see the Indian Pandora from the eyes of his camera. Stunning cinematography is a thing for which you can really kill your 126 minutes watching Raavan and you will enjoy the locations.

Though I am a very generous at marking, this would be my take (out of 10):

Junior AB- 2

Vikram- 2+2 (for his biceps only)

Aishwarya- 5 (for she is never aging)

Govinda- Can I have negative integers here?

Ravi Kishan- 9 (Excellent dude)

A R Rahman- 4 (Expectations are high from you)

Rensil- 10 (Read it with a minus, you did your worst…. you can not do poor than this,    gurr)

Mani- 2 (Just for his reputation)

Shyam Kaushal- 0 (What action, was there any?)

Sabyasachi Mukherjee- 7 (Created true Raavan, a very nice attempt)

Santosh Sivan- 10 on 10

So, all in all it is one of the perfect examples of poor thinking and even poorer execution.

Watch it if you wish to see Santosh’s hard work.

Watch it if you have no bad blood with Ravi Kishan.

Watch if you too are fed up with India-Sri Lanka cricket matches which are more frequent in offing than you have breakfast (or for the same, I miss).

But yes, that is absolute killing of our 126 minutes… Mrs. Mani, listening?

Are you?

To complete… it is not an epic of good against evil.

The movie is evil, evil and devil.

You may well have a different, even opposite opinion but I can not take such black colored pieces.

Life needs heroes, need Rams and light in life. And even if Raavan, its got to be the brighter side of him.

 On a closing note, Mr. Mani, you almost did a Ramgopal Verma ki Aag (though I’ve only heard about that epic).

Gimme my 126 minutes back, can you?

Thank you Laxman Sylvania

Today I matched Christian Bale.

Ok ok, don’t frown. Drop your eyebrows.

My age matched his waistline in Machinist. Seen the movie?

No!

Don’t see if you are happy with life.

And please help yourself with a DVD/torrent download if you feel otherwise.

It has every plug-ins to detonate your mind.

Anyway, coming back, it’s my birthday today, the day I never laurel. I do not stand antipodal though with any disrespect as well.

It’s just that I do not feel like a star that has done too much. I still have to unhook many knots and the time is running.

Being true to myself, I was never a kid at heart. Let me remember again, naah, nix.

Probably born a bit too ripe, adolescence is a virtue which never palpated me. I was never a fish to be caught.

Still I have some DD memories to share; DD memories mean Memories from DoorDarshan:

Growing through The streets of Malgudi (pardon the usage, Malgudi is not just a place, it is now a way of thinking) from R K Narayanan's novel turn TV serial I dreamt of dhotis and dust. Remember Swami and friends…ta na na nana nanana.

Never ever tasted amul’s milk but was a true amul boy when Siddharth Kak said Amul boy and the background score was “Amul, the taste of Indiaaaaa”

You can enshrine Siddharth Kak, right?

Never seen sanskrutik patrika SURABHI?

Damn, you missed the life, the faith, the divinity of DD and most of all, the beaming smile of ever gorgeous Renuka Shahane. I waited and waited and simply waited to see her say, “Siddharth ji, ab darshakon se vidaa lene ka samay aa gaya hai. To Surabhi ki poori team ki or se NAMASKAAR”.

Opps! That Namaskar! That was simply the best moment of the evening.

Byomkesh babu may not look like Zoro in his attire; he was not a bit too young as well.

His wife wrapped in a traditional Bengali white sari (that too not starched) was not having an engineered body like Aruna Shields. You know Aruna Shields. No? Google for her. PRINCE is of course the Choate movie to miss. No harm if you have not seen it.

But still, Byomkesh babu along with his small handheld torch and background music of crickets chirping was a delight to watch.

I liked my school, and did I Gayatree mantra and Hanuman chalisa but more that that I loved “Mile sur mera tumhara”

Especially Mausami Chaterjee in……….

Toma mora swarer milan srishti kare chalbochatano

I still love this…probably more than Veer loved Zara.

Don’t start blaming me every now and then, I have not read any Romeo-Juliet. I can simply quote bollywood.

And just to watch that, till Jitendra runs in, in white, I always got up early.

Who says TV defaces children?

I loved the kid saying, gaao na didi……….

Ek chidiya, anek chidiya…

For years Duck Tales was an Indian show for me, till I get to know that it is a dubbed product from Disneyland.

Still I hope, if I was Launchpad McQuack, I would have avoided many suffering the Scrooge family had to face.

Though never seen it, I loved counting the never ending number of episodes Swabhimaan aired.

Now there are no more Moglis and Alices. No Shanti at 4 PM, when I returned from school. No one sings Alif lailaa with a couple of extra aaa…….. But you are still there sitting in a corner of my room.

You knew only two colors viz. black and white, still did your best to make me feel green, yellow and pink.

Thanks for being my best friend for longest span. Thank you LAXMAN SYLVANIA.

NOTE: LAXMAN SYLVANIA was the first Black & White TV we owned and it was till then (1988-2009), that I loved TV. No more affection to channels these days. I’ve always been a DD person.

To Her, With Love...........

“Raj! Main tumhare sath nahi aa saktee. Mujhe maaf karna, mujhe Surinder Ji me apna rab dikhta hai” Anushka Sharma from Rab Ne Bana di Jodi was saying this to SRK. I mean Raj.

I’ve seen this movie number of times Jumbo has taken five wickets in an inning. You know Jumbo, right? Anil Kumble.

Leave it; having seen it so many times, I’m almost emotionless at this scene now.

But today, I had nothing to do and this bomb detonated spontaneously in my mind.

I mean Surinder!

It is OK for girls to die for Rajs, Vijays, Rahuls, Aruns, Ajays and Prems but Surinder?

Ehh, how can someone say this?

Hey Tani ji (Anushka), you are too brave to spell this dialogue.

No offence to Surinders and Harvinders but seriously, it is not at all having MACHO.

 There were times when Sulekha/Sulochna and Pyaremohan/Parimal had been the most sought after pairs in the town.

But for the past lifetime (Of course my lifetime) we have never seen such pairs.

Neither on reel nor off it.

I’ve never seen a Raj loosing such combats of love in my entire bollywood/Hollywood/tollywood career. OK, agreed it has been a viewer’s career and that too a pretty small one.

Still I can ingest that but no way from some Surinder.

Till time I loved my name very much and thanked my dad to give me such a manly name.

But looking at this, forget Avinash even Champakbhumia is not a safe word nowadays.

Envisage some pretty voice saying “Champakbhumia, would you please be my fewer half?”

Ehhhhhh…..

By the way, you know what a fewer half mean.

Don’t you?

Any lady over there, please help the poor boy(s).

Can anyone out there please help me in changing my name officially? Don’t worry I’ve decided over it. It’s got to be EUCALYPTUS.

Hopefully that is safe name for a decade.

Thanks Tani ji for opening my eyes, thank you so much for making me cognizant with the latest development in name book at Venus.

With lots of love (of course brotherly) ……. We must clarify this at the earliest these days.

NOTE: If anyone finds any word from this piece as objectionable I’ll pull it off. No hard feelings intended, it is just a bubble of thoughts I moved one of my pages through.

It’s corporate..It’s possible

1:30 PM IST, some day.

“Hello! This is Svetlana from ABC accountants. I wanted to tell you about our new investment offers. Do you have some time sir?”

“Thanks for the offer, but I am not interested.”

“No problem sir, but you can at least hear what we have to offer. I won’t take very long.”

“See it would waste your time as well, I said I’m not interested. Not at all.”

“Don’t worry sir, it’s our job.”

20 minutes of Singhalese for a Hindi native, Niraj was exhausted. Hardly matters if it was Niraj, Dheeraj or Prafull.

“Yes sir, so see.” SEE? OVER PHONE? You kidding lady? After this entire tantrum?

“Yeah, I see. But still, I am not interested.”

“What? Sir, you can’t do this. (Really? Why?) You know how discouraging  it is? One feels devastated when you say a simple no after all this toiling effort.”

“Hey! But I told you earlier that it is a waste of time. I can’t take this offer”

“Fine sir! Thanks for giving your time, may be it’s not my day.”

It’s not my day either, lady. Huh.

4:45 PM, IST, same day.......

“Hello Sir! This is Svet….”

Damn! I know you devil of the day. “Yes, please go ahead.”

“We have another offer for you.”

Eeeeeeeeee… I’ll die.

“See Miss, I’ve already said no.”

“No problem sir. Can you just provide some details?”

It was not a question, certainly not.

“Go ahead, ask.” You won’t let me live. I love isolation. Can’t we have no telephones all over again.

“Sir! Your name”

Winston Churchil … huh

“Niraj Awasthi”

“Age?”

Damn! Why is it not offensive to ask a man’s age?

“23… will be turning 24 soon” Do you know cooking pasta? I’m looking for a pasta maker maid. Did you thought wife? Insane girl.

“You are so young sir.” And fool as well.

“Thanks! What else?”

“Do you already have a credit card?”

“Yes I’ve.”

“Which one? What are the facilities you are provided with?”

“It’s a good one, a simple card with cash back offer and decent credit limit.” They say it a platinum card. Platinum, aaraghgh..How I was trapped last time?

“See sir, our policy is not to say bad for others but…. SORRY I CAN NOT TYPE THAT 3 TONNE OF GARBAGE”

“OK, but still I am currently not willing to take that. I’ll contact you very soon if I require any such service.” Cut it off lady, I am done. Why NOKIA batteries last so long? For this?

“No problem sir! Give it a try and if you don’t like you can always go back. It’s easy, simple and cheap.”

Of course it’s not your problem, it’s mine.

“OK, what I shall do?” I give up lady, accept my slavery.

“An identity proof, a photograph and a rent reciept for yourself and your wife.”

“Wife? What?”

“Yes sir! This is a couple’s offer.”

“But I am still single. So, may be I am not suited for this. Thanks for your time. All the best!” Yuhu, I am spared. Go away girl. Get away. I am a proud bachelor.

“No problem sir.” You are yourself a problem.

“Hmm, I understand. Bye.”

“Wait sir! You don’t need to worry. I am writing your wife’s name as Priya or Diya. Please ask someone to verify this when we do a verification call. I’ll take her number from you tomorrow. It is easy.” 

“What? I shall arrange a fake corporate wife?”

“No big deal sir. She has to reply just once.”

“No, I can’t. I do not have a friend who can do this. Sorry, I can not do this.”

“No problem sir. Keep my personal number. It’s……”

“Hey! Why?”

“If someone enquires you, just say your wife’s name is Shweta and give my number. I will say that yes we were married 6 months ago.”

“What?” Corporate wife, heaven, why don’t you fall?

Niraj is yet to recover from coma while Miss. S is planning some corporate kids with Dheeraj.

No offence to her as it’s a part of her neck grueling job.

Anything is possible here. Welcome to corporate.

Courtesy: Mahesh, a dear friend. :)

Osama, Bermuda Triangle, life on Mars…..huh!!!

The US government has spent more dollars finding Osama than I have White blood corpuscles. That is true Di.

Hey! Di is the only doctor I know these days.

Though mighty is a big word and I use this word only for Chandragupta’s empire but yes, USA stands very near to qualify for that adjective. Still, they could not locate the man who provided them a rise in the water table. This isn’t a joke; we can still hear families crying.

Why some wounds can never be healed?

That man stands with almost nothing in that dry dusty land. When I say nothing, its’ not literal, it is relative to what these super powers have.

Relative, hmm , relativity. Thank you! Mr. Einstein. Not only science, you helped me in many ways.

 Laden has 90 thousand wives, he is 6 ft 3 inches tall, his 59^th child has recently married a Russian and he has rajma-rice in lunch. We know everything, yeah everything about him but not his whereabouts. He is still missing, hiding, teleported…. Ehh, whatever.

So, it seems to be impossible task 1 in the offing.

Bermuda, not the island, I am talking of mysterious Bermuda triangle in the great North Atlantic. The black water has a black history which every never been to sea “sea adventure” writer has quoted at least once in his books. Devil’s triangle has suspended all the laws of physics.

Spectaculars have used their imagination to that extent that if you ask them they can lay eggs. Don’t you believe? Read their theory of magnetism and cyclones. Wow! Amazingly amazing….maybe they should write RACEII. They would do good, really good. Twist and turn, you know what I mean?

Those with less brain and more solar cells use calculators to prove that this is a much less accident prone place and “all the characters and plots in this story are fictitious and any relation with living or non-living will be considered mere co-incidence”. See, those who say I do not see movies with concentrations. Who said it once?

But sadly, Bermuda triangle remains far from main land. All curtains are yet to be raised.

Third chapter, indeed a tougher one. Out of this world.  Jadoo, Jacqueline Fernandez, pardon me if I spelt you wrong but may be you guys know it better.

Did Mars ever had water, or even traces of it? Don’t tell me those marks are an excellent design of your floor furnishing. I would not take that crap. Ok Ok. So what if we send pathfinder, so what if we are still studying the pictures and sample. So what if ever Friday we get 3 alien sci-fi and only ½ SRK love story at theatres.

We still don’t have any such evidences. Oh, have we? None, not a single one. Had we succeeded, Mrs. Jolly and Mr. Mallya would have reached there till now. I am not too sure about the Kingfisher calendar 2011. Does Mars have beaches?

Unanswered, is the common thread between all these three. At least till date. Lots of Science, Geography and Politics. Let’s move on to some sports.

Some sports? What sports? If it is India, it’s got to be cricket, ironically or happily, truth is always truth.

Season 2004-05, visiting Sri Lanka crushed and squeezed our bowlers. Huh, they are squeezed more than my mum squeeze’s lemon. 298 was something to achieve in cricket, if not very difficult. But it was not cricket at all. Dravid send in a soccer player look alike baseball player, ehh ugly. And it was just a joke after that. He deposited the white lather in every fort of Jaipur.

Season 2006-07, thanks to our death bowlers and tiger fielders, lesser thanks to a fine century by Shoaib Malik and his partnership with Abdur Razzak Pakistan notched 295. With others incapable and Dravid snailing, Sachin tried to do that again. He has reduced the margin of loss for us innumerable times over 20 years. Hasn’t he? What if we lose matches as soon as he departs leaving half a run to walk through? This time, the asking rate was thunderous 9.5 and that too for 9-10 overs and Sachin departed. It was all but over till his baseball willow walloped. He grinded, he churned, he thumped, he cruised, he hoisted, he butchered, he thwacked and whatever. I turned all the pages of cricketing shots and I could find none there which he played. I could not find them in baseball learner’s guide as well.

Year 2007, Joginder Sharma and S Sreesanth, whom the girls of my colony will not allow to play with them, were in his out of the blues team. Uthappas bowled, Yuvrajs roared and he came back with the trophy for which even Bangladesh was more in contention.

Year 2010, he promised Dalai Lama that he will not be involved in any violent activity but the world saw a massacre at Dharmashala. He sent those grenades over snow peaks and a couple of new glaciers are routing to Indian plain. 45 runs in a span of 14 balls.

Tonight it was again the same old worrier Sachin moving well. But this time he had in opposition the man with a luck line longer than Amazon, made from pure gold. He waited for the pressure to crop and master to depart and then expanded his cob web. Another trophy, huh.

The game has seen many worriers, even legends like Sachin, Dravid and Ponting but at a point they have returned down. But this man, if he has a not out against his name everyone knows the result and there is no exception to this rule.

I wonder if cricket would have been an individual’s game…. Thank god it’s not.

Yes, he is ugly and has yet to go long way. But why am I telling all this?

Rewind………………………………………..back now.

If someone can catch Osama, if someone can find out the mystery of Bermuda and the traces of water over Mars, it is MSD. The one and only Mehendra Singh Dhoni.

Hey people, make him do the matrix stuff before his stars get displaced. Admitting that he is the most ill skilled player I’ve ever seen, he has a bulldozer in his arms and a sand dune inside his mind.

The Napoleon, the captain courageous is back, not to conquer, not to enhance numbers, just to turn tides when every odds are stacked against him.

Nov. 2024, ……. Sirius galaxy.

MSD from milky way has won the war of comets with a whooping strike rate of 170. Notably his army had only 6 rabbits. Believe it or not!

Me, She and Piparwar………

It was 3rd December, 2007…yes, it was that very day.

The nights at my hostel were not boreal, I did not packed sweaters. Just camouflaged myself in my lone jacket, I left for Piparwar.

Piparwar is a mining area in central Jharkhand where no more that one train goes. To gather groceries for my Final year project, I found this as the easiest way.

When the hell will I learn to utilize tongue and GOOGLE?

My ordeal was to began at 11 PM. I boarded for Gomoh, a jungle, a hub for trains routed through Dhanbad area, just some 20 Km from Dhanbad.

Train to Piparwar was at 5:40 in the morning if on time, I had a bag, more than 6 hours and 7 companion dogs at the platform…. Platform!! Was there any??

It was cold…it really was, I usually tend to parade in my weather unaltered image. But that night, it really was snowy.

I passed that night and as usual did not corralled cold. The train came, and I was through for a new ordeal, I’ve never been in to.

The morning was extremely chilled, the wind was icy. I was out in a green forest lacking chimneys and cars to stabilize the temperature. My body shivered and so did my soul.

Soul!!!

It started getting warmer and I was getting my acumen back by 10 AM. I took out the route map I designed and tried to locate myself. I was around midway.

Why do people talk? And even if they do, why at public places? Ok, even that granted, why consider it a closed bedroom?

A gentleman sitting nearby said “These naxals are filth, rouge and must be beaten out to dust. Don’t you agree? ”

Why the hell shall I?

“May be, I’m not the right person to answer this. They are also human and I cannot comment being rational as such.”

The young girl sitting besides me smiled, “You are smart and sensible, there may be scores of them in this train”


Smart!!! Damn, damn fool I was to go to such a place without knowing anything…literally anything.

At 4 in the evening, it was getting dusky… I reached Piparwar.

No roads, no vehicle, almost no people to ask anything. Luckily I know languages we must know and I can communicate at other’s comfort level, I got the address of guest house I was to stay in. That was the only government place to stay.

No hotels, no lodges….nothing. Perfect 70’s movies………Daakbangla.

But for permission to stay I had to get my residence application approved by the GM, mines. Ehh, I was not having his number. Poor me, electronically handicapped. Can I get any reservation for this?

That 13 Kms was a real crick…Walking over the mine road with a bag over my back was stalwart, but the punch line, I had to walk. It had been some 4 Kms and 30 minutes, the sky was Cimmerian when I saw a man. 30 minutes walk and no man, is it India? Is it?

As he came nearer, I thought asking how much distance I still have to cover. Why people like me think that asking every time will decrease the distance.

But then I am what I am.

To add to my dismal state, he told, “Why the heck on earth are you here? Who send you here? What are you doing here at twilight? Will you be able to see the next aurora?”

My answer to these entire W was a W again, how fool I am. “Why?”

“Why? Are you new to this place? You will be chopped and your head will be sent to the office in a couple of days”

But the best thing of a black out is that you have no alternatives to ponder and worry. I had to move, I any how had to.

30 more minutes, night was at the brink when I saw it. It? Yes it was a leopard which crossed me in a blink. Had it been a little more, I was evaporated.

In a very short period, I had seen death in so many forms but till it touches you it is fascinating. And rethinking about it is more spell bound.

I somehow lived and reached the manager’s house at 8 PM. He was not at home but at least his wife arranged me a room but then I had to walk again to the guest house in that black brawny night.

But the lady allowed me to stay at her house that night. Was not she mum alike?

Was not my mom invisibly toured with me sharing the burden and pumping my blood in that shivering cold?

Were not her blessings blocking the yellow death’s nostrils?

Did not she save me from an unknown naxal place?

Was not it her that I was back and writing this piece?


I may succeed, I may achieve anything and everything but its’ none of my brilliance. It’s her divine power which effectuate everything…….yes everything.

Be it Piparwar, be it Pampas, I know, you are with me………….Let me say, Thank you mom. Its’ only you who could make all this possible.

Mangoes, Cricket and Comics….

It is April yet again. Again, it rained a little last night over here, not notably though.

I am quite grown up. Actually, I am getting older. This is an inevitable and painful disadvantage of being more than your age very early.

As, I am sitting in my 10X13 over my keypad with my NOKIA as the only living being out there, I am alone and aloof yet again. I never liked being alone but was always to be….. Agony never leaves me, typical Indian wives..whooff.

Yesterday was a day which is very rare to me. I wished for weekends, a long one. I was not willing to work despite getting a much above average appraisal. Not very uncommon to me, I was fooling myself. What a cheap and pollution free way to celebrate April fool.

Exactly 2 hours 3 minutes back it ended…yes, I am talking of Friday, the second. It was not good for me by any means. Had any predecessors been? No, rather never.

At times I pray. Yes, I do, despite being an atheist from the core of my élan vital, I pray.

I pray for praises, I pray for fame, I pray for money like anyone else but when I am only me, I pray for salvation. I pray for a couple of hours when I get preserval, when my nerves get smooth, when the atomic particles from the Hiroshima inside me are taken away.

But I get only equal to the amount of sugar one gets from onions.

No, I am not complaining because when you have so many complaints from every he, she or it, you are simply an upside down bowl………not suitable for this set up.

Yes, I have to agree to this bitter truth time and again.

It is April yet again.

Around 17-18 years back, yes I was not a kid at 10 so I need to go to an age of 6-7; I had some 4-5 summers.

Then, summer meant to me Nagraj, Dhruv, Bhokal, Ashwaraj, Hawaldaar Bahadur, Krookbond, Mahanayak Kids, Ram-Rahim, Aakrosh, Vidhwans…yessss, I got a good memory. These are, tense correction, were my life, my comic characters which took me to a different fearless world, where I was a real hero. A perfect knight rider…… (Don’t compare me with the likes of Ishant and Wriddhiman Saha).

But any cannon cannot fire without dynamite, the fuel.

Yes, we had ripe and sweet jackfruits, true we had melons. My father bought lots of cucumber and my mum is a stunning cook. But my dynamite was mangoes. I had a special (eh you can compare it with feminine) attraction for them. Dashahree, Chausaa, Langdaa, Beeju and yes lowest on waste matter Maldah from Malda Town . Every visit to my granny’s place meant only mangoes to me. I was in love with those summers.

Calendars changed, my teeth rusted and I grew older. None of my childhood’s teeth were broken though. Mangoes felt I am piling on them and we parted, yes we did. My true love was transpired as lust. Was it? May be, probably. Or may be I loved them a bit too much. But then that’s how I love. Anyone or anything.

I was 9, and it was……April again.

I played, I played a boy’s game for first time.

What??

I never played children’s games probably. I was an infant and then I transformed only to play numerology and mathematics with bodily grown ones. I was bad at marbles which I played for time less than that I spent collecting them.

Yes, the boy’s game. It was a sensation. It was like an early age salvation to me. I felt like sitting tender with a 58 year old body using an immortal surrogate of 23 to drive a racer care.

The ball, the swing, the pitch, the bails, the bats, the cluttering of stumps……..yes, cricket was a sensation. Cricket was like worship to me. Nothing special, everyone in our country is cricket obsessed.

But for me, it was just like 60 pages of Dhruv’s comics. It was not an individual force for me, I did not wanted to be in the centre always. I just wanted to be a part of it, ever.

They call it a sport and not a game. I call it an art, art of living. And yes, I may not be a Tendulkar or an Akram but I proudly lived something special.

Days passed, all of them, all the three left me. Perhaps I must confess, I left all of them, I had to.

It is April yet again.

I am working now. Actually, I am working lesser now but working for money. I still remember the fragrance of half ripe mangoes. I still try Nagraj’s hairstyle. I still dream of bowling Ponting out.

I know none of them is possible. Rather, nothing is possible for me. I do nothing which can be noticed, neither have done any.

I know my shouting, thinking, curbing will not help me by any means but it is yet 4AM only…I’ve still got 2 long days to pass.

It is April yet again………..I am coming back from my memory lanes.

Good Fr… Saturday, if it can help.

I am waiting for my good Friday, may be I can have rebirth some Easter. 

Mangoes, cricket and comics…………..it is April yet again….