Blind

Posted on March 28, 2010 by Guria
I am blind to the world.
I am blind to the light.
I am blind to humankind,
With passion glowing bright.
There’s a darkness alive
Resentful and stubborn,
Wanting the light more
Than it could let borne.
Shying away in anonymity
Shunning away, away from pity,
Travels through lone corners
And lanes turned gritty-
It stays blind and unseeing,
Rude, scared and mulishly unfeeling.
——————

N.B. Another piece of my talents that spewed onto a certain kind of paper while I was supposed to be working but was actually feeling sleepy! G.:)
Posted in Creations, Darkness, People and Relationships, Verses | 22 Comments

You and Little Thoughts

Posted on March 26, 2010 by Guria
_________
Crude yet simple
No complications, no strife
A new page, a new leaf
A newly discovered life…
_________
A little of a lot
Or a lot of a little
Wanting never ceases
Nor the need goes
Can feel the shivers spreading
From my heart to my toes…
_________
My mind barely agrees
The heart rarely relents
But they never argue
When I dream about you…
_________
I dream with closed eyes
I fantasize with them open
And you didn’t reach them
But surpassed, and deepen…
_________
N.B. Figments of my thoughts as I dreamed when I was supposed to be working… With love. 
Posted in Creations, Heart, Love, Me, Verses, You | 11 Comments

Why I Like being a Woman in a Patriarchal Society

Posted on March 21, 2010 by Guria
All we talk about are the drawbacks. Always. All the time. Of everything.
 
But I am an optimist who thought, thank God, cows don’t fly! And a woman who really enjoys her own wiles, appeal and different thinking while appreciating the God-given beauty in men and their raw sex appeal, not limited to their broad shoulders and bums only.
 
So, today I’m going to talk about the advantages of being a woman in a male-dominated society. 
 
I’m not talking about a generalized idea, nor saying this society is right but am trying to make the best of a situation that already exists, till it changes, and I do believe in Gender Equality. And this post should make the men hope and wish for it too. This idea is mine and how I look at the society and my life, and how I can make it a win-win situation. My observation alone.
 
If at the age when everyone is trying to get you off married, and it is the last thing you want, or you can get married but want to have a career too, all a woman needs to do is convince the parties concerned, whose opinions matter, who have a say, to agree to you having a career. And then have any damn career you want. 
 
The advantage? You can follow something in life, become or do just because you want to. ‘Want’ is enough, it is the word. Not because you have to. Think about it. You are not required to be the bread-earner in the family by the norms of the society itself. You can do anything you want without thinking about the money you are raking in. After all, that is the job of your husband or the one-to-be and not your responsibilty. Has anyone ever thought what failure does to a man in the society? He is supposed to earn. Anyhow. He has to. Whether he likes it or not. He just can’t quit something because he does not enjoy, is brow-beaten if he already doesn’t have a equally good or better offer on his hands. Responsibilty is drilled into them from when they are aware of what the word entails. And all they can think of is the money they bring home, rarely of what they want to be in life. Where is that privilege? And they only have been taught, by example not to take anything from their female counterparts. 
 
Partially I feel sorry for them and then I think, it was them or their ancestors who made it this way. And so I say, if I can’t have equality, I might as well enjoy the benefits of the existing inequality.
 
It is not easy for women to excel in men-dominated fields and careers. We face resistance from only those men who have a secret fear of being upped in their minds. But we have more tenacity and are more stubborn than any man in the world. And we have nothing to lose. And there is nothing as fearsome as someone with nothing to lose. That’s why i believe we can also up them if it comes down to either-or and/or a case of comparison for them. Plus, we are pretty good too, at most things we do.
 
I, for one, have no intention of being the bread-earner. I’ll put up my feet, make the bed, cook at home and blog when I feel like not working. And then when I feel like going back to a laboratory, I’ll very well do so. I have plans that when I work, all my earnings will go towards buying shoes and clothes and cars, all the luxury items! And so I have told my fiancé.
 
Sadly, he is one of those men who are liberal and independent thinkers, who have no problem if their wives earn more than them. He is very successful himself but he broke down all my well-planned, to-be-executed ideas when I saw him be the happiest when I did well, better than most. He is one who would relocate because I got an offer that shouldn’t be refused, just to be near me. And he makes the bed, though as a connoisseur of good food, he needs me to do the cooking, but the heating is left to him.
 
And dang he is smart, smart enough to tell me I will want to need to have to earn if I want to have that Porsche. Always that is the bait hanging over my head…

But still, my notions were pretty cool, considering…. I just didn’t count on being as lucky. 
N.B. My ideas were good, weren’t they? Making the best of a  poor situation. G.:)
Posted in Laughs, Me, Observer, Sarcasm | 20 Comments

On Your Teeth

Posted on March 19, 2010 by Guria
Man was supposed to be a carnivore rather than a herbivore, only we were smart enough to give the leaves, roots and stems a thought, curious enough to nibble on them suspiciously, no doubt attracted by the colors of the fruits and flowers and then on the wonderful discovery of their taste and benefits, add them to our gourmet.

This is the only conclusion I could come to.

How else could I explain the innovative and excessive use of teeth by my fellow humans, and me too.

Among all animals, humans are definitely the most adept at working nimbly with their fingers, of course, monkeys (with their different kinds) are too, but what are monkeys, if not our distant cousins? But it has been my observation that people actually lapse into using their teeth, for chores other than chewing on food, especially when they are failing with their most efficient tool, the fingers of their hands.

Try opening a packet of potato chips and the likes. Most of us, at times me too, don’t even try using fingers. Using teeth is so popular that the ones who can pry open those plastic packets with their hands alone are pretty much touted, even though informally. Often instead keeping a thing aside or holding it elsewhere, like under the arm, people will invariably hold things like a sheaf of paper, a pen etc with their teeth. Beside tearing the cold and stiff food, the teeth is always used to tear threads, small pieces of cloth even if the scissors are lying next to you. Actually half the time, only a feeble, half-hearted attempt is made to open anything plastic or sealed, even Ziploc(!), who is going to fetch scissors for heaven’s sake, and I see all resorting, consciously and not, to their teeth. I have even seen people trying to undo the caps of bottles, like in medicine bottles, with their teeth when the hands don’t produce results. Obviously you shouldn’t ask whether there were casualties.




Of course, all animals use their teeth too (for besides eating, that is), but do the herbivores use it as judiciously as the carnivores do? Or look in the mirror and admire your smile… I did, and I did find my sharp and pointed canines (just shy of being like a vampire’s) to be more similar to a tiger’s (my favourite animal, hence that) than a cow’s (I’m comparing teeth only)… So, I am almost sure man was actually supposed to be a carnivore, but of course, because humans are smart they decided on being omnivores.

But what actually precipitated this post and hence the conclusion was the delivery man who came to our workplace today.

A lean moustached man, barely 5’2” tall had dragged in a huge and dirty sack containing materials and reagents we had ordered. The sack that almost came upto his waist had once been white, during ancient times. And it was tightly knotted for ease of dragging or carrying. The delivery man tried very hard to pry the knot open, as two of my seniors and I looked on. He tried for minutes in fact as we waited. Then suddenly, with the haste that is related when working with people looking on, the man knelt down on all his fours on the floor, put his hands on the sack to hold it in place, and started gnawing on the knot!! And the damn thing actually came off in less than a minute of being maneuvered by his teeth! 

With the view I had of the delivery man today, reminded me again today we indeed belong to the family of animals, presently a bit more civilized than the others, but deep down, far back we all have been once! And sometimes in trying situations those age-old instincts kick in, the genes express!

Of course, it’s beside the fact that my animal-like proclivities may be akin to that of a donkey or a horse because while the man was on his fours biting on the knot to his heart’s content, standing behind him, I had to momentarily combat a strong urge to behave like Thomson and Thompson trying to disprove a mirage in the Land of Black Gold (Tintin)…

N.B. Maverick Observer is back in action. I cannot guarantee the veracity of the post. This may be a true incident… I have no idea! G. 😉

Posted in Laughs, Observer, People and Relationships | Leave a comment

A Few Men Who Wished They Were The "Lesser" Woman

Posted on March 17, 2010 by Guria

I have never really met a man who wants to be a woman. I have never heard a man say it aloud. And therein lies all the distinction in the world, I realised in a recent stint I experienced. Of course, we call that experience which we have hated doing, on hindsight or have failed at.
In my career, I work with the biological and chemical aspects of the human body but the human mind is terrain solely for the amateur me. Biologically I know about the highly debated concept of how no man is 100% male and no woman is 100% female. But I didn’t know this distinction was so profound and active in certain human male brains.
There are tomboys, usually girls who have grown up with boys; there are women in different societies wishing they were not born girls; there are boys with a range of feminine characteristics; and there are homosexuals… But those who I want to talk about are neither. They are actually the ‘superior’ men who have a fond longing to show the world about the ‘inferior’ woman… And how? By being one, what else? 
You can think of it as an otherwise rare case of alternate personality.
It is as if there are two parts to the same man, one is the man for the world to see and the other very active, very sane and very aware part is the illusive woman who cannot be seen only. Do not think of it as  an ailment. There are no black-outs, loss of memory or anything similar but it is the way to have a conversation with self, prove himself right when he’s sure he can’t do it to others. Meaning, the man is very aware of the woman in him and makes sure that the lesser attributes of him is what the woman is made of, and that the reason for the woman’s existence is to make him look great!
A simple case of inferiority complex hidden behind a barrel of a superior feeling about self, this way out is for the rare smarter men to prove to the world his greatness. Think about it. I am shouting from the top of a multi-storied I am great. Would you believe me? No, even I wouldn’t myself. Instead if I have someone I control who will look at me all sappy face, misty-eyed, jaws dropping in wonder, hands folded in reverence… and you just might pause in your stride and think, okay, is there something I missed? At least, you’ll look twice. And you are foolish, if you still stick to your first impression and assessment. Or just plain thick-skinned.

When you come across such men, you will find you know both of them. Him and her. Somehow or the other. You will surely do. Because that was the purpose of it. She was created so that you learn about all those wonderful aspects of Him, that you may not have noticed otherwise. If and when you are enlightened, do a comparative study, I promise you, you will find Her to be worst at those very things which you know Him to be good at, and very blatantly so. It is probably a very obvious undertaking in upholding the reason why she was created.

If you are wondering, “what the heck is she talking about?” “Is this effing possible?!“… Let me tell you, you also may have come across such people and just don’t know it yet. 

Now why be the “lesser” woman? This could have been easily achieved with a simple alter ego, without bringing the gender into play! This is because men of this high stature, with high IQs in Facebook IQ Tests can think ahead. Since he is a man, people will never in their wildest dreams will relate that woman to him.  Again, if he is an example of how men are, it is obvious that men are born intelligent and smart. To portray the less-intelligent, less-smart and less-talented blind worshipper, how can it be anyone but a woman? Of course, the very visible and the very eloquent man in him is the first to stand up for woman rights and scream equality for the poor ignored pretty things. Plus you win over the other men faster, when they see him being fawned over by the woman with a fancy name and stars in her eyes. Like the quick and guilty mind, especially when covering tracks, they know to plan ahead, and plan well.
Of course, like all real cases, there’s no such thing as the perfect plan. Loopholes are abundant, mostly if one is looking and otherwise if you are the ‘prepared’ mind that has been taught to observe even the most obvious.
It is funny, most of the times. Sometimes, disheartening. And sometimes bewildering.

But I wonder what it does to your impression, the idea of them you had, your faith in them? You laugh at it and forget, or you nod your understanding at the stupid but profound duplicity?

For myself, I am not smart enough to be happy in the blissful ignorance forever. Pity.

This is the only thing, a quote that comes to my mind right now…

A woman should be an illusion. 




~Ian Fleming


N.B. On the up-side, most men (who do justice to the word ‘man’) are not like this. Real men don’t need to prove themselves.

P.S. Thank you Neha for being the friend you are. This post was born out of your confidence in me.

Posted in Observer, Sarcasm | Leave a comment

A Year and A Day….

Posted on March 12, 2010 by Guria
I’m an obsessed, self-centered and self-serving individual in most of the moments in my life but there are times I even manage to surprise myself with golden moments of selflessness. And that’s not an easy feat, surprising myself in light of having a brain that works faster than most.

My moments of selflessness are more of pin-pricks of illumination of my recurring self-realization that I’m a pain in the ass. Those rare, rare moments when I acknowledge the sacrifices faced, the strength exercised by the person next to me takes to spend hours, let alone days, with me. Oh no, don’t you go down that lane. I am not in requirement of a cologne or anything. You can of it just as that my over-bearing, over-reacting and over-smart brain gives to my personality a hue of very bright colors, nice to the eyes and any other related senses only when it is dark.

Amazingly, bearing my ill attitude and experiencing not-so nice persona day-in and day-out becomes a sweet habit hard to break, like cocaine maybe, or maybe the cheaper marijuana. Guess, I should be glad that people have the tendency to be attracted to the wrong thing at most of the times. Call it addiction or call it by their term, Love. That’s how I ensnare them. Not that I do anything specific with a beautifully orchestrated and cloaked ulterior motive, since this is an illuminating post, I should take some responsibility for their headlong fall into loving me.

Flaws that I have — you are hearing me say this once, you’ll never hear me say it again, and if you ever dare to mention this instance, I’ll punch you, happily — the flaws that I have are enormous in proportion to my virtues, and I do not do much about them. For the others actually love me the way I am. In my interpretation, they tag me “hopeless” with the definite thought that, surely no improvement could be had on the manufacturing defect(s) in me.


Yesterday Me the blog completed one whole year. And still I haven’t been liquidated. What do I call that but love. People actually had been observed to be crazy. Details of which I cannot venture into without pinkened cheeks… Yes, the shameless me can also be shy and embarassed. 

But in this post, where I’ve sworn truthful I must say, it is a wonderful feeling to be loved. Deep in my heart besides the omniscient thought of commercial gain (better described as comments and unique hits), there was the feeling of worthiness. To be loved and cherished even for one fleeting moment can change your life. 

With all my shortcomings, all things not so good in me, this selfish beast in me turns human with your love (and patronage?) and can say your magnanimity doesn’t go unrequited or unnoticed. Against all my good common senses, and business mind’s advices, I’d say, even if you do not come wading this way again, your love will be the stronghold for this journey, a self-seeking journey that made me a better person than before. And before you pounce on the word ‘better’, let me tell you, it still ain’t that much of an improvement… In Algebra it would have been (x+ 0.000000001) which can be considered as x only! So contradicting myself, will you guys wait for the next birthday, just to help me lessen the number of zeros after the point and before 1?

Oops, I think my quota of being self-disinterested is over. 

lots of Love, 

Points to be Noted:
  1. Every time that I sneeze, I write better.
  2. How did I ever forget that I can never have a writers’ block with this going for me.
  3. And gee, I can be honest too!
  4. I’m too much of a misfit for my own good.
  5. You can say ‘Happy Birthday!’ and eat the cake too.
  6. Thank You: Pra, Avada, Raji, Shilpa, Rohini, Vidhu, Ana, Sammy, Harini, Meghpeon, Ste, Pawan, Sid, Harsha, Lakshmi Rajan, Mohammed, Gyanban, Chriz. And Neha.

Posted in Friends, Laughs, Sarcasm | Leave a comment

Princess (Concluding Part)

Posted on March 10, 2010 by Guria

This is the concluding part of the story Princess. I request you to read the beginning before you continue with this one. Happy Reading!

Mr. S. wasn’t the reputed manager that he was without being clever and practical. He knew that every day without the Forest Officers coming knocking on the door was a boon. But he was prepared to face them when the time came. Princess was seven months old, and huge, when they finally parked their officially stickered Gypsy next to Mr. S.’s white Gypsy in the bungalow’s portico.

Their belligerence was made short not so much by the presence of a well-built leopard than it was by the sight of imposing Mr. S and Vikram each standing over six feet tall, calm and composed. The proof that tales of Princess had spread wide and far was the presence of the Director of the Forest Division himself. He was not really an unreasonable man, much to the relief of the S.’s. But the tirade did not stop.

 But they hadn’t expected people, the ones who had known Princess from when she was a baby to put up any defense. The doctor who had been the first to tend to Princess as the almost dying cub was there to bear witness, and staunchly back the S. family as the officers threatened to arrest Mr.S.. A confusing ruckus ensued.

It was then that the Director stepped in. He suggested that all charges against Mr S and his family be dropped as it was obvious they had rescued the leopard rather than trapping her to keep as a pet, and even though she was on a leash behind the bungalow, it wasn’t an example of cruelty to animal but rather protecting the guests in the bungalow. But before Princess’ family at the tea garden started to rejoice overmuch, the Director put up a hand and said, “But I cannot allow you to keep the leopard any more. It is against the law to keep any wild animal as a pet. Especially under Prevention of Cruelty to Animals Act 1960, you will have a problem on your hand if anyone sues.” 

Mr.S. had had known that this would be the probable outcome, and had warned his son and wife too. But when it actually happened, it hurt much more than they all had expected. 

The big, strong man remained inside his room behind locked doors the next day after the Officers came and took away Princess. Mrs. S. also didn’t go. But Vikram did. Princess was really strong by then, and she only willing went into her cage because Vikram was there. But when the vehicle started moving away, Princess looked wonderingly at the shrinking figure of Vikram standing at the gates of the bungalow, face streaming with tears, then started clawing at the bars of the cage and let out a growl that turned into a howl. It was as if Princess knew what was happening and she was not showing her displeasure, she was crying. Vikram couldn’t watch any longer. But Princess’ howling could be heard long after the vehicle couldn’t be seen anymore, as the vehicle waded its way across the tea garden. The echo of her keening cry reached every ear in the bungalow, which was the only remnant in the house as all activity came to a stand-still.

That night, the ever efficient staff had lost their impetus to work. Mrs S. also had no heart to ask them or work herself. Mr. S. went on his usual survey but barely spoke any words beyond the unnecessary. The workers kept up their working rhythm in the gardens but something was missing in their everyday actions Vikram wandered mindlessly in the well-tended lawns of the bungalow, and beyond till late in the evening all by himself. Rocko had been put on leash and tied near the servants’ quarters for even if Princess had been fooled but Rocko had understood the implications of the Jeep with the cage, and had been frantic to keep Princess from getting on to that. That night, tired from madly barking all day, Rocko lay down in the open where he was tied, and refused food even when coaxed by Mrs. S. herself.

The next morning everyone was up and went for their respective work at 5 am garden-time, as was the norm but they were visibly lacking their usual vigor. Mr. S. silently rode his white Gypsy with the assissant manager of his garden surveying the on-going work, stopping once in a while, when required to talk to the employees. Mrs. S. went about her morning chores, as she directed the servants around the house. Vikram, usually a late sleeper was also woke up in the wee hours of the morning and went running. There were signs of life everywhere but the sounds of it were all missing.

It was noon, when the military-green Jeep with the cage entered the tea garden premises. A shiver passed through the workers in and about the gardens, every one of them paused in their strides to watch the Jeep pass slowly. The punctual Mr. S. had just gotten back home for his lunch. The servants were helping Mrs. S. set the table when the Jeep pulled in.

The Director himself had come back. With Princess.

The trained officers had been unable to control the beast. Unable to feed her, move her or make her do anything. She had taken turns to become ferocious and then completely despondent. But there had been no one who could handle her, calm her. In a word, Princess would bend to nobody. She wanted her family, and she had turned terribly wild for a ‘tame’ leopard.

The Director stood before the S. family. “We decided that it is best to leave where Princess herself wants to be, where Princess is happy. With her family. You can keep her under your care for as long as you want. I’ll give you my authorization.”

Vikram cried for the first time in his adult life. Others couldn’t stop smiling. Princess was back.

Princess shot out of the cage into Vikram’s arms the moment the bars opened. It was a happy reunion. Celebrations ensued.

But sadly that was not the happily ever-after scenario. This was real.

Barring Vikram, Princess became mean and rude to everyone around her. Mr.S. also wouldn’t have been exempt if Princess hadn’t learned to fear him early in her life. A leopard’s heart is not like a human’s. Once broken, the S.’s believe, they remain broken. There is only one chance to gain the respect for their trust, and no other.

Princess’ heart had been broken the day she’d been turned away by her family. She only understood that and nothing else.

Rude and mean in a leopard wasn’t the moody way of a human child. It was the hurt transformed into bitter anger. She was angry with Rocko too. The servants she previously doted on turned enemies as she’d take a snipe at them now and again. The frolicking fun chase of men in bicycles could end in biting out chunks of their legs, if not careful. She wasn’t care-free any more, nor would she listen to Rocko. It was difficult to feed or bathe her. No one but Vikram could calm Princess.

Then it was time for Vikram to go back to college. He postponed his trip back, missed classes, as much as he could. But Princess’ black mood showed no signs of abating. Little did he want to understand that maybe leopards can’t forgive. And Vikram had to go back.

It was about a week after Vikram had left for college. Princess had retreated into a sulking mood which was bare improvement from her vicious anger. One evening Mrs. S., the over-protective mother, very aware that Princess had not taken lunch, brought Princess her dinner herself. That night, with Mr. S. away at the garden club, Princess took a swipe at Mrs. S..

Mr S. had come home to find Mrs. S behind the locked doors in their bedroom shivering in fear and with a deep gash across her cheek. It was her who issued the ultimatum. Princess had to leave. And Mr. S. knew it was the right thing to do.

The next day Mr. S. called the Director of the Forest Divisions and asked them to come and take Princess away, with the only request that Princess not be put in a locked zoo. She hated cages.

Princess was with them for nine months till she was taken away and freed in the forests of Upper-Assam.

Vikram for the first time in his life did not come home for the holidays.

After almost three months had passed, as news travels, the S.’s heard that there were several sightings of a leopard chasing, running after white Gypsy-s.

It took the S.’s, all of them, and a few servants, no time at all to pack an entourage and go to the places in northern Assam where the leopard had been seen. Against the rules, they got off their Jeeps and shouted themselves hoarse calling out for Princess. Vikram and Mr. S. ventured further and further into the forests calling her name. But Princess didn’t come.

The strong and resilient Mr.S. who hadn’t cried when he’d given his daughter away, dropped to his knees in front of everybody that day and cried like nobody had ever seen him cry before.

——————

They don’t know whether Princess lives on or she died. Whether she ever learned to feed herself. But they all talk about her in the present tense. They cannot think about the alternative. Their pride, their love reflects in every word they speak about her, and they talk about her all the time. Their house is adorned with photographs of Princess, and an oil too, that Princess had been very disgruntled to pose for. Before anyone can judge them guilty, they hold themselves responsible even though they really didn’t have a choice. But it doesn’t lessen the grief or the regret.




N.B. This is a TRUE story. And I wanted to share it. Any similarity to Born Free the movie, I can’t help it as I have not fictionized a single fact but diligently stuck to the stories as I heard them from Mr and Mrs S. (except their son’s name is not Vikram) If I can procure the pictures of Princess, I will definitely put them up. Love, G. 🙂
Posted in Creations, Loss, Love, Novelette, People and Relationships | Leave a comment

Princess

Posted on March 7, 2010 by Guria
She was five days old when Vikram found her, hidden among the tea bushes in the cold climate of January. 


Her mother had abandoned her seeing that she was a weak little thing with no chances of survival. Vikram took her to his parents who immediately called the doctor. The doctor’s prognosis was grim too. She had no chances of making it. 

“All you can hope for”, said the doctor, “Is to give her a warm environment, feed her warm milk. But I don’t think she’ll make it beyond a week.” And that was why he left her under their care, knowing she wouldn’t live for long anyway.

But Vikram wasn’t to be deterred. He tried feeding her warm milk from a bowl, but the poor little thing couldn’t swallow. So, Vikram and his mother started dipping a kerchief in the milk and letting her suck on it. She was never let out of their sight. All the servants, several workers of the Tea garden, and even Vikram’s father, Mr. S. had forgotten all their duties. hovering day and night over the baby, sometimes with worry, sometimes with elation when she would finally finish the bowl of milk after two hours continuous feeding.

After ten days, she opened her eyes and let out a soft mewl. It was a day of celebrations. They named the new addition to their family, the pampered and already loved leopard, Princess.

Princess was their third child, Mrs S. says it even today, and the most loved one. Her eldest, her daughter was married and lived in the city with her husband. Her son, Vikram was an engineering student who was with them for the winter when Princess was found.

Mr. S. was the manager of a tea-garden in Assam. He was probably the most enthusiastic when it came to adopting Princess. Their bungalow was situated at one end of the garden had a huge flower garden surrounding it, tended and kept well, and the whole lawns were canopied with huge, tall trees marking the perimeter. Just beyond the low walls that separated the manager’s bungalow from the rest of the garden was the narrow road and a shallow moat. After that was the vast expanse of the tea bushes, glittering green in the sunlight, yet saved from the glare of the sun by the thin and tall shade trees growing in a dizzying pattern. 

The green and yellow of the Assam tea garden is something to behold. Ever continuous with bonsai tea bushes, all nurtured and maintained at the same height, the narrow road for cars and tractors spiraling between the sections of the garden, the entrancing shadows cast by the shade trees made an indelible impression of the shadows playing hide-and seek with the sun. And amongst it all, the workers with the sun-hats and baskets on their back working, plucking “two leaves and a bud” made the view picture-perfect.

And Princess could have had no better place to grow up.

From the day she was adopted, she was spoiled by every person who used to come inside the bungalow. At a few weeks old, she could growl and started walking about. And she needed much more nutrition than cow’s milk. On the doctor’s orders, Mrs. S. started preparing boiled vegetables and half a kilo of mutton for her. 

Princess’ best friend, strangely enough, was the S.’s pet Doberman, Rocko. Rocko treated Princess as his daughter and was overly protective of her. Wary of most people entering their bungalow, as Doberman’s usually are, Rocko became even more protective when Princess came to live with them. Running about, upending and breaking things Princess was also strictly monitored and controlled by Rocko. And it was fun to watch them in action. Princess started emulating Rocko, and had a lot of fun chasing people on bicycles entering the premises. Only Rocko’s was nevertheless just a bark and Princess’ a growl that had most of them running for life when they saw the black spots on yellow chasing them. Even poor Mrs S., an amateur interior decorator of sorts had to put all of her treasures under lock and key, or very much out of reach. But even that ploy failed.

After Princess was a few weeks old, one day Mr. and Mrs. S. coming home from a party, couldn’t find Princess anywhere in their bungalow. They were looking for her all over their place when suddenly, Mrs. S. heard a plaintive and scared cry from their kitchen. She ran with her husband into the kitchen to find Princess looking fearful atop a pelmet in the room. She had probably managed to jump, only as a leopard can, 7 feet above but being the baby she was, she couldn’t climb down. She had had the fright of her life, till Mr. S. himself got her down. That night she had snuggled like a puppy in between Mr. and Mrs. S. in bed, something even Rocko had not ever been allowed.

Vikram as an engineering student could come home to the tea gardens only in the holidays. But Princess was his baby. He called almost every day to learn about her new antics and progress. And unlike before, he would try to go to Assam from Delhi even in the long weekends. Mr. S. was who Princess was scared of, like we are of our Dads, revered him and loved him the best. As Princess grew, Mrs. S. wasn’t as comfortable with feeding Princess anymore. Princess might not have known that she was a wild leopard but Mrs. S did know. So even though she prepared her food, kilos of mutton, rotis or milk, Mr. S. had the responsibility to feed her, and Vikram when he was home. Several other frequenters to the S.’s bungalow also stopped coming except for a few servants who had been there when Princess had come and were on friendly terms with her. But Vikram was Princess’ best mate. And she listened to him, as she found out that Vikram was one person whom she couldn’t intimidate.

In fact, it was Vikram who had climbed up the huge tree in the garden to bring Princess down, when she had been crying, unable to get down. It was Vikram who had to climb up and down the trees in the garden just to teach Princess how to do it. Once Princess slapped Vikram with her front paw, after she’d gotten really angry and Vikram slapped her right back. Vikram earned his respect with Princess by showing that he wasn’t someone to be cowed by her. Vikram being very fast on his legs, used to run with Rocko and Princess on his heels, but later he reverted to using a bicycle as the trio covered miles.

But keeping a leopard is not an easy feat in the real world. Stories of Princess, exaggerations, and all of them not nice, spread like wild-fire in the neighboring gardens and areas. And it wasn’t long after when the Forest Division Officers came calling. Princess was then seven months old.
Too Long For a Single Read. Hence. To be Continued………………

N.B. Another true story. G.

Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities. Truth isn’t. ~ Mark Twain

Posted in Creations, Novelette, People and Relationships | Leave a comment

এ যাত্রায়

Posted on March 1, 2010 by Guria
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
আঁধার রাতের একা অভিসারী 
চলিল একেলা কত দিক পাড়ি,
অজানা সে পথে প্রেম তল্লাসে
একা অভিযান লইয়াছে ঠান|
যাবে সে যাবেই, যাবে সেই কূলে
ভালোবাসা যেথায় আশ্রয় সব ভুলে,
বুকে নেই শ্বাস, নিবিড় নিঃশ্বাস 
তবু চলেছে এগিয়া মুক্তির উল্লাস;
বাঁচিবে হইয়া প্রেমে নিমজ্জিত 
জ্ঞান হবে অজ্ঞান, প্রথা বর্জিত|
এ যে প্রেমের টান, হবেই উত্থান 
কভু থামিবে না এ যাত্রায় 
অত্যাচার, অনাচার কাটুক মাত্রায়-
চলিবে এ পথ ধরেই, গাইয়া প্রেমের গান|| 
 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~



Another of my Bengali creations. This one was written after a conversation about poetry with one of my favourites, a brilliant poet and a deep (but deceptive) thinker, Vidhupriya who creates her magic over at A Leaf of Voices, who encouraged me to keep publishing in my native tongue (as I believe I’m a better poet in Bengali). And, yes, I will put up a scanned copy of this too! 
To my Bengali-speaking/reading Indian Friends and Readers: Would really appreciate a translation (of sorts) if you can (along with your take on the piece). And leave the link to it, too. 🙂 (there’s only one word spelled wrong in the entire piece)
Remaining Indians and non-Indians: Can I hope that you will get back in here after I have the translation or have translated myself! 😀
Love, G.:)
Posted in Calcutta and Bengali, Creations, Love, Passions, Verses | Leave a comment

After Him

Posted on February 27, 2010 by Guria
–
Her eyes were bleak but dry,
Staring unseeingly ahead
Wondering how to cry
And mourn, the man who left.
–
Searching for the meaning
Of going on living,
Devoid of dreams
Waking nights in screams;
Delving back and again, into that past
Yet not reaching it,
Regaining  consciousness fast
Into present that never fit.
–
That was another life
Living as his wife.
Drugging kisses and endless laughter
Braving storms, all together;
Walking down the beaten path
Clasping hands in the dark;
Sharing happiness and simple joy
A simple love of a girl and a boy.
–
She thinks she needs to die
To survive this travesty of life,
From alone to together
And back being alone, again.
–
The tears never come
No feelings breathe
No umbrage, no sheathe
All is raw, all is empty.
–
Thinking of all that was gone,
Thinking of their own little song,
Thinking of what was, once
She lifted a hand in a trance,
And touched her swollen abdomen —
The tears came then.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _


~ with love ~

Posted in Creations, Loss, Love, Man and Woman, Verses | Leave a comment