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Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Result Analysis.......

The first period of college! The principal enters the class with the result sheet of Pre-test Exam. He scolds, rebukes, warns and then mellows his voice and attempts to pursue and convince the students for a better result. But his mellowed voice no longer continues. Something queer happens. Silence pervades the class. He pauses for a moment. Then he calls the name of a Pankaj Mallick. He points out that he is short of attendance and that he is lurching at the bottom of the result sheet. In response to his announcement a boy sitting on the back bench rises up and swallows all the bitter words with his face downward. 

The boy stands up putting up a grim face but a clear red rose gets visible on his bosom. The rose was a prominent sticker pasted on the front pocket of the college uniform shirt. The result analysis now takes a new direction. The red red rose attracts both anger and contempt from the principal. He shouts at the top of his voice. He shouts because he thinks the college uniform is tarnished by the display of such love symbol by a teenager. One of the lecturer who had accompanied the Principal into the classroom now goes one step further and plucks the flower from the boy’s shirt. The boy instantly loses both his identity as a student and his identity as a lover of beauty. 

Like a whirlwind the squad of the teachers leaves the class. And the result of RESULT ANALYSIS is an intimidated class that learns to be blind to a Red Red Rose.

Monday, October 31, 2011

Back Ground Music of Parichay (Tele Serial on Colours)

The film 'Dil Kabbadi' had a beautiful song with the words"Zindegi Ye Safar Mey Hein ,Kat Raha Hey Rasta" but I had never given much attention to the song. The song came and faded in the memory. It neither found a place in my music library nor in my pc or mobile. But the beautiful act of beautiful Kirti Nagpure and Handsome Sameer Soni gave a new dimension to the song's appeal. The song  most often constitutes the background music of the serial when the pair interact in subtle languages of gestures and expressions.

A chunk of the song is hosted for the benefit of all song lovers.

(The link to download will be available at the bottom of the linking page. Go with SLOW DOWNLOAD. Enter the captcha and enjoy.)

 

Friday, October 28, 2011

When we shut the doors and windows……

It was Diwali. Everywhere there were a lot of shopping, print and tele ad campaigns, rush in the markets and hotels. The world seemed to move faster and happier. But my heart did not co-operate me. I could not feel yesteryear's joy inside me. My feelings for Diwali had been buried deep in an unreachable soft tissue which remained obscure and untraceable. The day was highlighted by two pieces of SMS from old friends whom I did not feel necessary to send return SMS. I remained in my room with my doors and windows shut. 

Often we shut the doors and windows of our rooms with a desire to have a feel of undisturbed peace and safety. We sit or lean on the bed for hours to forget the complexities of the outside world. However, most of the time we find that, in doing so, we end up in suffocation instead of peace and safety. It is because Peace is something which comes from within. It is the stately dance of clear conscience on the notes of selflessness.  A broken heart and a disturbed mind cannot be repaired by simply shutting the doors and windows of a house. The healing needs something deeper, something nobler, something beyond the rules and commonsense of a worldly life.

The world around me celebrated the beauty of lights and the explosive joy of crackers and I attempted to enjoy my silence with my own self. But I could not reach at the peace of mind for which I had stood aloof from the hustle and bustle of the banging evening. I opened my door and went away leaving the suffocating room behind. I inhaled the fresh air and saw that a grandfather was helping his grandson with his crackers. The grandson was inquisitively standing on his toes to learn the lessons of firing crackers. I looked at them and felt a subtle wave of inner joy because they radiated the light of joy aplenty. My gloom disappeared and I thanked Diwali because it brought an eager childhood and a loving grand parenthood giggle together when the sky colorfully illuminated in gratitude to heaven.

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Man will be man; Woman will be woman.


The lengthy subject orientation sessions in the conference room and the pedantic lectures of subject experts for the last two days had clouded our minds heavily. All the participants had been mentally fatigued. And we were desperately waiting for the tea break. At the tea break time the door of the conference room opened and I hopefully looked for the peon with cups of hot tea but instead of hot tea a hot girl with a notebook was caught in sight. Electric impulses ran inside my nerves. Her presence was an enchanting diversion. Very demurely the girl pulled a chair and joined the discussion group. I forgot about the tea and so did my friends. The discussion was enlivened even without tea. During the tea break I held the door open for her with the most pleasing words, “First you Mam!” and she went out like a queen exchanging a smile with me. It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man would become most well-behaved if the woman is beautiful. After all, Man will be man. 
Next day the subject experts assigned me a criticism class. The demonstration class before my co-participants was a tremendous success. I was highly rated by the subject experts and my co-participants as well. Everybody congratulated me. That girl too smiled with encouraging words and made my day. In the evening I was called by the director of the training institute and I was handed a note of appreciation for my innovativeness implemented during my criticism class. On his table I caught a glimpse of the feedback report of my friends on my class. Almost everyone had indicated my class as an excellent one except that girl. She had given me the lowest possible grade. Behind her smiles she had a sharp axe to cut the wings of a flying bird. After all, woman will be woman. 

(The write up is purely a work of fiction. Any resemblance of character is just a coincidence. The story may seem the reader very real because in all spheres of life man will be man & woman will be woman.)

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Frustration, depression and ice-cream.

Man invents and adopts various strategies to counterbalance his frustrations. One of them is by diverting the mind from the causes and thoughts of frustration. And this strategy most often involves going to ice-cream parlours or restaurants where the frustrated individual can sit comfortably for a while; where he can easily divert his mind to the actions of his test buds. It is no issue, although this relaxation ends with a restaurant bill. 

It is another interesting thing that most men would never have any grumbling if they spend for filling their stomachs. Many shop owners who do business other than food items feel terribly frustrated when they fall prey to continuous bargaining of an unconvinced customer. However, fast food, restaurants, hotels and similar food linked industries are free from such bargaining and argument. Food is life and nobody would like to go for bargaining as regard to this basic necessity of life.

It was evening time and I was half spent and dog tired. I was on the streets of Bhubaneswar heading towards the bus station to catch a bus to my native place. The big cars, big houses and the glare of city life looked down on me. I found myself sinking in a sea of depression and frustration. The feelings got intensified with each time I wiped my face to avoid sweats. The heart was burning because of my nothingness. I could not find a quick fix to my problem. I wanted to search myself. I wanted to feel my own worth. I wanted silence so that I could start an inward journey. And I found what I wanted.  I saw an ice-cream bar. I went inside & sat on a table. I opened my laptop, ordered vanilla-flavored ice-cream and wrote out my heart. Each spoonful ice-cream refreshed my being and I stood up once again for my self-expression. I paid the bill and clicked the “ADD NEW BLOGPOST” button on the laptop.  
  
(Readers are requested to excuse me for packaging the blog post with so much frustration and depression but at the same time I must admit the truth that I feel my readers so close that I cannot find anyone worthier to taste the cup of frustration mixed ice-cream)