I chose to disagree that it's finished yet.

Delving in time a person's smile
Amongst the treachery some passion pile.
Giving to emotions is the need of the hour
Fearing repeatedly on the hurting power.

The mind keeps telling " Is this the story that finishes your life?"

Was a girl I needed for her warmth,
Led was I by her friendly charms.
Friend was I till an opportune moment
Le it go to avoid the sentiment.

The mind kept telling " That is what finished your life"

The dreams of a boy, blooms with admiration
At the simple yet subtle poise of comfortation.
Attempts at diving deep in those eyes
Leads to the vitals burnt as fries.

The mind kept telling " Finished it is not, just an unlucky start"

The elementary thoughts that burn me alive
Where on earth did they grow and thrive ?
Looked back at me my timid fellow
Through the mirror of self, all was shallow.

Raised my hand to touch myself
But alas that was just an elf.
The elvian thoughts were just an imagery
To deepest emotions that were dark yet fiery.

The mind kept telling " Stop before it is finished !!"

Couldn't let go what reasons my state
The rest I left to my unfriendly fate.
Found was I, surrounded by forms of motion
Asking me the very same Question

They kept saying " Look for the start if you wish to run to finish"

The women of my life who let go of her primes
So that I can earn my dames and dimes
Unhappy is she amidst her weary smiles
Sitting distant, my mind always to her flies.

I keep saying " Everything's gonna finish, the moment I reach, the moment I reach"

Filling her sad void, I keep others to cheer,
Giving my self to every bird and beer.
Substitution of her smile is never found
Find always myself biting the ground.

The mind keeps saying " Run before the time finishes"

Standing in the cold winds outside the forest,
A damsel with her smile is somewhere at rest.
Had hoped this time the love was real,
Burst my eyes with images so surreal.

The mind said again " This is not yet finished "

Yeah true it was to the minutest detail,
Grabbed to a buoy, to avoid my fail.
The buoy was a poor pup in the chase
With her own baggage at this life's phase.

The mind again shouted " Finished it is not but a chance to redeem "

Standing again in front of her self
I bared my thoughts, my thoughts and myself
With just a hope that she still by my side remains
Pouring out her fears and joys without refrains.

This time the heart said " I chose to disagree that it's finished yet "

The Language Dilemma

Language is just a medium of communication, many might say this but having said so you would definitely be at loggerheads over the opinion that I would like to draw your attention to. 

Delving deep into the point where I got the understanding of language, well it has to be  without any doubt the language that your mother speaks. No matter how well we guys try, it will always be " The Mother's recipe", "The Mother tongue" or  "The Mother's lap". I was always attracted to the tunes that were original and timeless. Even without much technicalities music has survived ages and the tunes might have been carried on from generations to generations till somebody tried to document them. So for me the tunes had to have the essence of the soil, or " Mitti ki Khushboo".  It was just the beginning of the revelation, for these tunes dragged me to the original lyrics that were associated with them. No sooner had I got hold hold of them than a new problem began. They were in different languages and at that moment I  suddenly felt myself  an illiterate oblivious of the world obscured in each of the the other languages. 

As a kid I used to think of a science fiction scenario where anything that we say would translate itself easily to that of the listener and that would be the zenith of our evolution. Although Google Translate made that fantasy partly come true, but it remained true till I stayed on one side of it. The moment I learned a decent amount of German to compare the meaning of right and the left box I was thrown into a whole lot of confusions. As a person I can safely assume that many generations to come will keep on trying to solve this but would not ever achieve it totally, for there are many things in a language which doesn't and cannot be translated to the other. Forget about the grammar and all, even the simple concepts of yes and no,  the way you address people, how you say Sorry and even the formal way of  asking somebody to sit down by a request to put their butt on the chair, every language is unique because the way it originated, the life style it demands and so on.

Although it is such a vital part of a civilization I hardly believed it was something that could wage wars or had any big influence, I was wrong. The first part of the puzzle was there in my mother tongue itself. It was due to the martyrdom of some youngsters defending the language that we celebrate today "The International Mother's tongue day". It is just because of the language " Deutsch" that today's German nation is carved out from the Holy Roman Empire. The issues of  Jaffna in Sri Lanka and even the indifferent attitude towards the people of North-east India by the rest of the country is primarily due to the difference of language or the lack of knowledge of the self proclaimed national language. Yes your are right " Hindi" is just an official language in India and to those who irritatingly try to correct the non native speakers by pointing out the trifles be it grammatical or related to pronunciation, just be thankful to the others that they put that effort to learn the language to communicate to you, it's high time you too take some initiative  to return the favor.

Language is not just a way of communication but is an important facet in defining your culture and in the long run your identity. Your language is your identity at times and vice-versa. Confused !!! don't be. If you still wish to stick to your opinion, wouldn't enforcing a common language for all solve the problem? Think about it, well as one of the colonized nations of the British Empire at a period of time in the past, we also started to boot lick that aristocracy and imbibe the language in our daily lives. Sadly but true that we left aside the vernacular languages because with our country so varied in culture and languages we couldn't agree on giving one of us an importance rather take up an outside language to become the officially acceptable one in the workplace. Well do we speak English? It's quite hard to be the observer and the observee at the same time, I was lucky enough to look at my countrymen from the eyes of the western world and a whole lot of stories unfolded. Seems there is a new language in the making, something that can be called Indian English like the American English or probably many more. With respect to TBBT " Hey you sound like the guy Raj from the show" or " Hey, I thought your name is Ranjeet and you speak Hindu", such kind of comments are quite common when I hit the bar. Even they had the idea that there is a language called "Indian". Well I laughed at their ignorance until one day I realized there is no language called " Chinese". Perhaps they are not the only one filled with misconceptions.   

A brief historical research would reveal that the other European Languages like French and German or Spanish are more rich and important to be considered for communication. Even here it is the same situation of self proclamation, because the native speakers of this language are very few. It's only because of the obsession of the Indian and Chinese whose acceptance of the language with a large amount of population to support, that English is pushed as a global language. 

Citing a recent incident I spotted some one ordering in a store of McDonald's  in Germany and was really amazed at the way the person was later complaining about the inability of the lady who was taking the order to understanding English. The argument was that McDonald's being an English company must make sure that the employees should speak English. On the basis of this logic I was assuming that any Germany company in any part of the world had the right to enforce German as the only acceptable language in their work place very weird right? 

Many issues like this shall come up in recent times with the necessity of Globalization and it would be then essential to have as many feathers in his/her cap as possible, by feathers I mean the languages.

Instead of obsessing oneself in a language of comfort I would recommend to try learn something new. Who knows what it might fetch you. Perhaps you will than understand the zeal of a German craftsman, the beauty of a French Woman, the fiery celebration of the Spanish folks, the chivalry of an Italian , the aristocracy of an Arab, the tradition and mysticism of Chinese and Indian culture and the discipline of the Japanese Samurai.

Jai Kali Kalkattewali

Perhaps one of the most talked about Goddesses of the Hindu Mythology, Maa Kali might have been a subject of curiosity, awe, fear and quite schockingly shameful to a few as well. The reason for associating so many emotions to the same figure makes it controversial enough to be sacrosanct. She is the darker side of the Mother godess and is a Deity very unique in it's appeal, for nowhere else can you find such a volatile combination of love and hatred imbibed in a single entity.
It might always be interesting to the readers to get a background check on the concept so as to ensure that we all are in the same platform in terms of the previous knowledge as the lack of it might result in a skewed perception if not a wrong one. Especially to them for whom this goddess reminds a puzzling portrayal of a naked woman wearing dead body parts always showing her blood drenched tongue, I am atleast happy that the mention of the name rings a bell.
As the legend goes, somewhere in the very old ages one demon named "Rakhtabeej" which literally translates to 'Rakta== Blood' and 'Beej==Seed'. Well to dig further to the nomenclature it says that he was able to use his blood as a seed to recreate himself. It  is thus horrifying to comprehend that the mere bloodshed of that person will instead of weakening him result in the rise of an army born out of each of his blood drops, making him more stronger than ever. Even though he is not an immortal but never before could anyone use death to such an advantage. The mutiplicative effect of that or rather the geometric expansion of his numbers that results when some one even attempts to kill him is by far the most dreadful imaginations ever possible. A salute to the person who thought it, if we believe that Mythology is derived from myth, if not than you better watch out if such a thing really still exists. Going with the hindu philosophy or rather the understanding of the Sanatan Dharma everything exists in pairs, so there had to be an equally powerful person on the other side of the stick to balance it. Yes we all are right here, "Kali" is the one.
"Kali" the word itself titilates the dreadful bone in me and it translates to two different meaning in English viz. endless (beyond Kal or time) and Darkness (Kali==Black). People might point fingers and laugh at me at my attempt to translate it to two seemingly unrelated words, but are they actually unrelated ? If I might draw your attention to the concept which baffles many top scientist's of my time, haven't they found correlation with darkness and timelessness. Think for a minute and you will surely be with me on this, yes,I am talking about the "Black Hole". How such a concept was incorporated in our language which orally dates back furthermore than any documented human civilization ? Were they able to comprehend it at that time what we still find a tough nut to crack ?
Well darkness here is the lack of knowledge and the sources of energy which are unknown to the common man. I know my words would make
 you think of the infamous order of Sadhus called the 'Aghoris' who worship death. They are sometimes perceived as the naked,crazy necrophiliacs who spend their lives in the 'Shamshan' or the burning place of dead bodies. The belief is, that death is the ultimate truth and purest form attainable. I guess even today the Tantrics and their kinds have borne that infamous compliment but still they are an inseparable part of the truth. If life exists so does death, well than if life is something that we can worship than why not death? I am not trying to evoke a general sentiment to that way of life but I am agreeing that good and bad are the sides of the same coin and none is bigger than the other, so if we appreciate the goodness of this universe we need to be careful of the opposite as well. Out of these thoughts had the worship of Maa Kali derived it's uniqueness. There has been a genre of music known as 'Shyama Sangeet ' with it's charm and attractiveness that has appealed deeply even with it's mere simplicity. Although Ramprasad is considered to be one of the forerunners of that but do we still remember that many of them were written by Kazi Nazrul Islam. As to those who might not know the personality he is a famous poet of the then Bengal Province with talent and potential sometimes compared to Gurudev Rabindranath Tagore. He being a Muslim restates the fact that this kind of devotion had an appeal that was beyond religion.
Well I might have gone too back in history where people might not be able to relate to, so lets get back to more recent happenings.
Well hope everybody remembers the 11th day of September in the year 1893 at the Parliament of the World's Religion in Chicago where Hinduism " --the mother of all religions--" is said to have been born, well at least in the eyes of the Western World. The historical speech delivered by "Swami Vivekanda" had after ages tried to portray what the order stood for and dug out the basic principles of religion which due to the long period of upheavals and downfalls  in time was lost somewhere. The basic philosophy was greatly derived from the person of whom he became  the most famous disciple. Yes 'Gadadhar'or 'Gadai' who later became the 'Ramakrishna Paramhansa', the eccentric devotee in the Kali Temple of Dakshineshwar. A bright personality in his prime, Mr. Narendranath Dutta( Swami Vivekanda) was moved by the mere simplicity of the man's devotion and built upon it today what we know as the Ramakrishna Math.

It is sometimes sad that the Global viewers remembers Kali with animal and human sacrifices as portrayed in "Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom" or Kali portrayed as the naked goddess with sensual connotation as we can see in "Das Wilde Leben". Well I suggest, keep exploring, you will surely be surprised at each point of your attempt.

Girls of today no longer cook like their mothers but surely drink/smoke like their fathers

The latter part of the statement might look a little offensive to a few but nevertheless the statement precisely tries to capture the simple changes in the social lives that our generation has witnessed. The change was inevitable with the change in millennium and we the kids of today might consider ourselves lucky to see it in the happening. 

As a male of the late twenties, I admit that this abrupt change in social standing has deeper repercussions in our lives and I am sympathetic to my friends out there who are in the same boat. We are the innocent bunch of idiots who believed that our lives would end without an actual personal visit to the forbidden room of the house, the most magical of all 'The Kitchen'. The nomenclature seems amusing is it ? well how else do you explain the stinking fishes, smelly garlic, soiled vegetables and other such items entering the room and out comes on a dish the most beautiful creation of all, that satisfies 4 out of the 5 senses (viz. sight, smell, touch & taste). A closer look might reveal that they are washed cut and then put into the Frying pan and as if by sorcery after a few pinches of salt, spices and an intermittent pattern of turning the ladle your dish is ready and served on the table. It is a different thing that we never put much thought about it once it is on the table as we are then busy savoring it. As a kid you are almost always swat away from that room, often due to the sharp and dangerous utensils that are left unattended in that area of the house.  While growing up even when you at times had the urge to unravel the mystery, you are either put down or ridiculed to even have made an attempt. The girls on the other hand seem to have a right to enter that room but the ones with whom we grew up with even renounced that. I am sure that a great deal of knowledge might have lived and died with the lady of the house. Alas the most important stake holders of the recipe, we the guys of today might be loosing everything if we don't stand up, not as a protest but in an attempt to at least keep the home cooked tradition alive.

One such day  in my life when I was fed up with the occasional visits to the eateries where either the food was too greasy or too spicy. It takes much to see in life and years of travelling away from home to actually realize that home cooked food might not be a taken for granted thing anymore. You keep begging the hotel owners, with an added incentives but you never get your taste buds satisfied. We than feel apologetic to the times when we used to whine and be choosy as to what was in lunch while today we gladly accept what the others have to offer with a basic expectation on the table but even that is barely satisfied. During such hard times I pulled up my socks or rather a simple jute bag and went to the nearby vegetable shops that I found typical of 'Rajajinagara' a residential area in the not so modern parts of Bengaluru. Instead of what today's generation might get back to for a quick fix I was quite an old-fashioned , partly due to inadequacy of internet connectivity and primarily because it would not be wrong to term me a person close to his mother.... OK OK I get it I am a 'mamma's boy ', well all your taste buds were seasoned after consuming her food for almost 18 prime years of your lives and going back to the source is what seemed legit. I called her up as usual to mark my attendance, yes my mother expects a call everyday as if it is an attendance register and any act of absence will be dealt with harsh emotional rebuke resulting in compensation for the lost time on the following days.  Well on that occasion, I ,answering her most important question ' Have you had your food?'/" Khana khaya?"/"Khaisos?" with no general response but an honest plea of unraveling the mystery of cooking. Housewives have always been seen to guard that one knowledge that seems to give them the important respectable position in the family. Numerous examples are hovering my mind but the one that aptly and subtly supports the claim is the scene from the Ray classic ' Ashani Sanket' where after a hard day work the main protagonist who is a learned Brahman overwhelmed with satisfaction from the food served asks the mystery behind. 'Babita' who plays his wife replies that he is a learned man and the whole village acknowledges his wisdom, as his wife he demands the same respect with her unique culinary skills.
Well anyhow with the little guidance that she was able to give me on the phone I took the ladle and other tools, holding them like swords and shield to conquer the territories of mankind that was actually aloof from men. I don't know what came out of it and don't remember how things went on, but may be through numerous attempts and trying them on hungry guinea pigs who happen to be my room mates or friends who came to visit me, I gathered the basic idea of making a dish which is not a bad development after all. Now at least I am confident that I can make something out of a bunch of edible raw materials and present something on the table that might not be a culinary delight but not a disaster either. It is said that the knowledge transfer from a Guru to the disciple reaches a mile stone when you are able to outperform the Guru. May be it's a great expectation but glad that it already started, for instance I can use the knife better than her or make perfect sunny side ups. Since my sister would never venture this area I really feel about a special family recipes that I was introduced to as the "Paul Saaag". Seems after the death of my grandparents my mother reserves the patented rights to prepare that, hope I will prove to be a rightful heir.
My experiences in this foreign land might also develop many of my competencies or rather reveal many which I already have.The best thing about a person from the Indian subcontinent is that we are pretty well versed with the spices. Now I understand why the western world was so eager to visit India, our spices actually make them crazy. Even an average preparation would pass by them as the best dish of the day or even their lives. With the arrangements that I see a normal European kitchen to be equipped with, the possibilities seems endless.
Saying this I suddenly realize that was not the first I had ventured in the kitchen, it was when my maa ordered me to make 'Chaa' or Tea. I remember how I lit the match and held it to the burner of the gas stove and in contrary to the usual golden yellow flame that we see in fire , I was amazed at the cool blue light. The water filled vessel mounted on  top of it with bubbles forming random  patterns and circling the pan in a whirlpool, to which I sprinkled the tea granules. Magically in the same pattern the colorless fluid kept taking the brownish tinge that darkened with time. If this is not magic what is ?

দূর্গা পূজা, the 3 sides of the same coin

If you have the slightest tinge of blood flowing in your veins out of which Bengal is made up of, you will surely go crazy at this time of the year.It might not be a good idea to describe it by comparing with similar events that happen at this time of the year in India, by this I mean the likes of  "Dandiya" and "Garba". People will then definitely miss the core idea and flavor that this festival represents. 

Let me get started with mythology or rather it might be apt to view them as legends or just exaggeration of mere historical events.Took place after the DevAsur Sangram, which can be compared to some kind of a World War that might have happened at that point of time. The capital A in the middle (DevAsur) is put knowingly to bring out the superhuman attributes that we attribute to the two group of people who were always seen at daggers end.  The Devas (The blessed lot) and the Asuras (The not so lucky ones). As per me it was nothing but the Aryans and the Dravidians the two large group of races which inhabits almost all of the Indian subcontinent that exists today. The Devas had tricked the Asuras in attaining the potion which provided longer life or arguably immortality. Now since the reason for the war is justified lets move ahead in the story and learn that the Asuras were left in rags and after that two brothers named "Rambha" and "Karambha" were bent on to safeguard their identity or the Asura lineage thorough toil and penance towards the two of the basic elements, fire and water. The king of Devas named Indra again tricked them and managed to kill one of them. The survivor Rambha managed to become powerful and out of very comic circumstances fell in love with a water buffalo and a son was born out of them whom we popularly know as "Mahisasur". That explains a lot how he could turn easily to a  Buffalo (Mahish). He went on to become more powerful and managed to receive a boon from Mahadev (The third of the three main gods of Hinduism). On being refused immortality he tried to get a boon that was equally powerful and hence as a rule of elimination tried to mention all the types of people who would not be able to kill him. Considering woman to be mere weaklings he didn't bother to mention them and hence left the loophole which one day brought his downfall. Convinced that he was invincible he went on conquering and left everything in chaos It was then necessary to stop him and hence it is said that the female forms of the Trinity combined to form a goddess who had all the power of the universe(Shakti), expert in sorcery(Mahamaya) and was invincible (Durga). I still remember the video they used to show on the day of "Mahalaya" which is considered to be the birthday of Maa Durga and it marks the starting day of the festival as well. In that they showed that all the weapons that the Gods had were bestowed on her. She was the epitome of beauty, power and strength, most aptly the representation of Womanhood . Mahisasura lured by her charm and strength wanted to conquer her and died in that attempt after the ten day long battle. The battle took place on the "Chamundi Hills" and from the name 'Mysuru' present day 'Mysore' derives it's name. 

An interesting fact is that it happened during the spring time and hence Basanti Puja is what is left of that actual incident which I think very few people are nowadays aware of. It was in the Treta Yuga or the time of Lord Rama when he required to get all the power possible to kill Ravana and due to lack of time to wait till Spring time, he forcibly called the Goddess Durga during the Autumn .The present day Durga Puja is hence also called as "Okal Bodhon" or the untimely summon. 

Having made the background clear lets get to the more recent days. I still need some time to come to the exact present day as there are more of the story that needs to be revealed. Durga as the source of strength was regularly worshiped and hence the tradition was born. Due to the hugeness of the festival it was rather not possible for any tom dick and harry to arrange or manage it. And looking at the economic system of the then Bengal, it was clear that only the landlords or the 'Zamindars' were wealthy enough to perform that. Even though the commoners protested by arranging by themselves after collecting money and making the so called tradition of ' Sarvojonin Dugotsav' or the public celebration of the worship of Durga. This also has led to the evil practices of forcibly asking for donations which defies the main idea of donation as per my opinion. Getting back to the topic of discussion it was much like a worship during the day and in the evening it was merrymaking with the magical beats of the pair of drum instruments called " Dhak and Dhol". So strong and magical were the beats that the players of the instruments called ' Dhakis' would happily bear the after effects of spine damage and other complications due to continuous playing of the heavy instrument. To keep up to the tempo they sometimes indulged in opium as well. Although an independent form was developing but the traditional Durga Puja remained in the hands of the elite.

Probably one of them was my distant grandfather belonging to my bloodline who started that in our house. I don't think anyone among my friends will be able to remember how a traditional idol for the occasion was made, other than the 'Kumhartuli' or the area  of the clay artisans. Well I had an advantageous first hand information in that matter as the idol that was worshiped in our house was totally made in our house and the artisan used to come before the puja, stay for months to give final shapes to the so called 'Durga Protima' or the idol of Durga. I used to manage bunking classes to just visit my grandfather's house after crossing the border in not so legal ways and see it in the making. I can distinctly remember the way the bamboo pieces were placed and tied to form the base. Then the main structure was visualized in a few bamboo stick which looked awkward to a random eye but to the eyes of the artisan it was his god. The artisans were so devoted that they used to take bath before working on it as if it was no less than a serious worship. I still remember how they put the hays and tied them together to form the rough naked structures of the gods and goddesses. It was on account of this that my great great grandfather didn't want it to be made that way as for a great period of time the idols would look naked before they were adorned with a sari, the traditional dress for the women of India. Our family legend says that Maa Durga visited my grandfather in his dreams and scolded him about the form that was made and as a result the idol in our house had to be made totally of mud including the sari. There were basically two types of mud used. One was that of the sticky black kind that we find near the river banks which forms the inner layer and gave strength to the idol while the upper layer was spread with mud having high percentage of sand in it which was softer and ideal for small etches and other minute details that needed to be put on the idol. Only recently had I come to know that it was compulsory to use the mud from the living area of the Whorehouses in idol making, how the tradition came to its form is still a puzzle for me. Well anyways the idols would then be left to dry in the sun when cracks came up on the surface. Much of expertise and precision was employed to correct them and than came the time of painting. Perhaps the vivid colors that I saw them mixing, gave me the inspiration to play with them and make a painter out of myself, having not much paintings to my credit. It was interesting how they used to finish the whole idol but always left the eyes white. It seemed as if they were not idols of Goddesses but eyeless, lifeless ghosts. The artisans used to tell me that the eyes are a reflection of the self and its presence and absence will be a depiction of  the person's existence and non-existence respectively. It was believed that once the eyes were made the idol would come to life. I used to laugh at them till I personally saw it and was amazed as the idols do turn life like just after drawing the eyes, which usually happened on the Mahalaya.

The next few days would just be a wait until the idol was unveiled on the sixth day which marks the beginning of the festival. Everyday I was excited to fast till the puja was over and when I got the chance to chant prayers three times in succession offering flowers and trifoliated leaves of Bel. I even seemed to remember by heart the mantras and felt as if I knew a lot of ancient scriptures, just to forget them in some days and get reminded in the next puja. The best part was playing  the "Kaasha" with the dhaakis. I had a good sense of rhythm and that made me be a good companion to them . My big brother sometimes claimed that in a period of five days of the pujas he used to beat the Kaasha so hard that by the end of the puja it would break. I believed him totally and used to dream in amazement of the day when I would be that strong. After all its really an effort to break a solid metal drum like instrument by repeated banging with the small wooden branch usually from the jack fruit or mango tree. 
On the tenth day when the idol was taken towards the pond or river to be drowned, I have no idea how everyone seemed so sad for a life less idol who just happen to be there for five days. I guess you have to get involved in the puja to actually feel the pain on the tenth day or Dashami. My mother and my other family members used to sob like anything and perhaps that primarily made me sad and there are some instances I too remember the warm fluid running down my own cheeks. In short this was what this festival meant in the not so distant past to a guy like me.

Coming to the present day everything seems to change or  some parts of the celebration definitely lost it's importance. All I can  associate with 'Pujo' is the new set of clothes from all of my relatives which made it easy to change my attire twice or thrice in a day during the puja. It was partly to satisfy the expectations of the relatives who gifted you the dress and mostly because that was the time you showed off your best look. After all during that time of the year the boys could wear the most sough after fashion statement ' The jacket' due to the weather which was apt and not cold enough that your parents would chase you to wear  the infamous 'monkey cap'. I am sure the girls also saved their best dresses so as to be the center of attraction with young boys drooling them over. Well admit it,  that at this time of the year every street where puja is celebrated becomes a ramp with models walking around.  Puja also means non stop electricity, yes in India it is something very rare and till today I cannot figure out how they managed that only during that time of the year. Puja also means that the buddies you grew up with or the so called 'Chuddy Buddy' will all be back to their respective home. And being from a small time without exception all might have left to bigger cities or abroad in search of better opportunities. Only at that time could you find the houses with their rightful owners and seems you are able to walk down the memory lane, along with laughter and chatter all night long. As it is the only time of the year when the kids are allowed to roam freely without any fear through out the night and as a kid from a small town it is something of an impossible made possible. People use this once in a year opportunity to just do Pandal hopping and each and every street is in open competition in display of  their power either in money, lighting arrangement, glitters, display of sophisticated art or it's likes. The themes that they have are sometimes so expensive and mesmerizing that you would rather see the glittering Eiffel Tower as a pandal than go to Paris to view the original. These were the times when anything was possible, every dream could come true. Some of my friends considered it the apt time for flirting and I know some who even proposed.

I perhaps got the chance to see both the sides of the so called 'Durga Puja' with which we the Bengalees as a community are always associated with. Any depiction whatsoever of Bengalees are incomplete without the portrayal of a Durga Puja and the movie makers know that very well. Little did I know that there is a third perspective that was still obscured from my view which is visible to the "Probashi Bangali" a term which which can loosely be translated to the term Non Resident Indians only restricted to the Bengalee community.

My endeavors in Germany exposed  me to that as well. Firstly you need to convince yourself that there is great possible chance that you will not find any in your vicinity. But in the age of Internet nothing seems to be far away. If you give an honest look in google you will definitely find numerous forums, groups or other such updates which will eventually lead to some mention of Durga Puja and you end up finding one. Puja there has a totally different meaning. You feel for the first time at home although being seven oceans and thirteen rivers away from your homeland. You end up meeting other Bengalees whom you might have bumped into on the streets but suddenly on that day he seems all of a sudden your Bengali dada with the typical Panjabi ,although Pyjamas would definitely be replaced by a pair of jeans. You suddenly feel the urge to be obedient to the elders. Touching feet doesn't seem old fashioned, and the person who managed to wear the sari properly is a celebrity. You suddenly cannot bear to miss the beats of Dhaak. You discover more cool features of the puja like the 'Dhunuchi naach', the importance of Pushpanjali, the significance of using the number 108 and many more. The artist in you rise up for the neat and small arrangement of the Puja tent  also called as 'Montop'. You feel the necessity to have a concert with guitars and tabla playing to old and new tunes of Bengali and Hindi Songs. Even though you know you are missing the tempo or the Harmonium(similar to a piano) is not tuned with the song still the audience seem to love it and cheer you up encouraging you to move ahead perfectly fine as if it is an island of misfit toys. The fun frolic and all the arrangement needs to be wrapped up in a weekend as no one would dare to risk their professional lives for the puja. Immersing the idol as per the usual custom or in our term ' Bishorjon' might be a little different as they seem to like the idol so much that they keep it to be reused the coming year. And who can forget the special mutton dishes(Mutton Kasha)  that completes that day .

Being able to see all of these I as a Bengali am utterly confused and cannot find a concrete way of describing the festival which runs in my blood and is an irreplaceable facet of my identity.

Silence says it all

Words are all that you need not say,
This world, where thoughts are astray.
Argue and preach the world around
In the books your names are found.
Wishes and applauds are all yours,
Says the deafening, sounds of shores.

Words are all that I wish to hear
Through the vocals loud and clear
All I see are those dark eyes
Still frozen, while time just flies.
I keep staring through those globes
Find the ways or just the burrows

Hope that I can dive so deep

Touch the throbbing life to keep

All those pearls will just gleam,
Pinch me hard, its not a dream.
Oneday those words shall reveal
Through her lips with all her feel

Till then Silence is all I hear
As Silence says it all,without any fear.

Someone Someday

Questions are a thousand that cross my mind,

Leaves me speechless, sleepless and blind.

Closing my eyes I want to see,

Sitting all day I want to dream.

Keeping my lips as speechless as it seem,

I want to speak express and feel.

My self has changed to what seems fine,

Look through the eyes and feel the shine.

A phase of life has just passed by,

Left behind some memories dry.

A drop of thought is just enough,

To enrich, relive and enlighten my mind.

Strong are the feelings that touches me,

Tempting me to dive and flee.

Much to think, change and reform,

None is possible by rules of norm.

Still feel strong those memories dry,

Trying to wet those leaves that fly.

Someone someday is sure to come,

Washing away that seems unfinished, undone.

Leave me staring for hours long,

Those white orbs with dark so strong.

Wish I could just see those eyes,

Rest of all would just be nice.