Dear Mrs. Chatterjee

Your indelible memory
Will guide us from afar;
Softly shining always
Like a steady star.

Whenever we'll feel the need,
To anchor our restless lives,
We'll search our souls for memories
Of you, where your Blessing thrives.

Every once in a busy while,
We'll gaze upon the sky,
To remember you by the rainbow
Which chronicles the days gone by.

Often we'll feel disheartened and lost,
Often we'll feel pain...
But those lessons which we can never forget
Will restore and renew us again.

Though our paths will never cross,
We won't ever see your smile,
You'll be locked within our hearts,
To make our lives worth the while.

When Sleep will lead each of us
To the Deep end of the Dark,
Your far away words, your enlightening thoughts
Will blaze up from a spark.

I'm sorry that this poem is far from good,
It emerges from a vacuum within,
But you would have been nice about it nonetheless,
And encouraged me with your grin.

For I wrote poems all along,
Which were mostly far from good.
But the way you listened, so earnest and rapt,
I never quite understood,
How they were really so far from good.

And here I am, Writing again,
By way of a humble tribute,
We bow before your brilliance, your kindness,
Which we'll forever salute.

Title-less

There are days on which I feel an unrelenting anger. When I look around and find much to appall...no, I am not being judgemental...I do my very earnest best to climb into the skins of people and walk around in them, following faithfully Atticus's sound advice. I see much more good, in its many manifestations, than bad. I wait patiently, I try and listen carefully. I look within, and weed out my faults, so as not to let them draw me back...and I am sure there is a lot of scope for improvement in my own personality. My friend told me that I must use this blog to talk about social issues which disturb me...my nature is a cautious one, and I find reason to praise Diplomacy when it borders on sensitivity.
But I have been irked by something, for the longest possible time...gender issues should I call them? Something I used to do with my cousins and freinds, occasionally back at home, would be to laugh over the adverts in the Matrimonial Section of newspapers...some of them were absurdly funny, like one which said that only someone who possessed the beauty of a potential Miss India, need apply, but she had to be 'simple and homely.' This time, when my friend and I tried to resume the same activity, I recoiled and found little reason to laugh...here were people, 'educated' people who were perpetrating the very systems our country has struggled to fight against. "Educated boy seeks fair, {high caste, not getting into naming} wife." "Educated boy seeks very fair, simple and slim wife." "Educated boy wants a fair, tall, non-working, (high caste) wife with matching horoscope. I am not running down Astrology. It is one's prerogative to believe or not believe...but is that one vital, critical basis of forging a match? How come no one describes the kind of personality he/she would be compatible with? How come the first criterion is always caste, colour, vital stats or star signs? I am not undermining the importance, in some ways, of physical attraction. That is an undeniable aspect of a relationship. But I suppose when it is put across like that, in that bald, exclusivist way, it is difficult to read it and not squirm with discomfort.
What happens to girls, (and I am speaking of the ads which the boys/their families have put up,) who do not fit into this stencilled and crayoned idea of beauty. What if a different shade of colour fills their brows and skins? What if they fail to reach the desired, assigned height? What if she is born under an 'inauspicious' (as if) star sign? What if she isn't 'simple?' What does the word mean anyway? Every human being, in her or his own way is complex...we have millions of thought processes competing with one another in our minds...is being 'simple' a reference to being non-manipulative, non-'not-nice?' Or is it someone who is cheerful and joyous? If that is what it means, simple was never a synonym for any of those words.
Or is Simple someone who can be manipulated and cheated, but is too gullible, naive and ingenue-like to respond? I don't know what the term implies, but it disturbs me...what does 'homely?' mean? Home-loving? How many of us are NOT home-loving? I am sure all of us, irrespective of Gender, ache for aspects of our home...and as for house-work, it is something we all must, once again irrespective of gender, pitch in and help out with. There is nothing salubrious about sleeping on an unmade bed, or redeeming about not knowing how to rustle a meal up, or cool about not dusting drawers...it is just the insidious suggestion that we, having being born into the gender we have, should have been born with these skills...no, we have not...we learn, and believe me, we do learn, we need to learn to survive...but why is this so 'gendered?'. Boys should learn as well, they need to maintain their health and hygiene and satiate their hunger for food as well...and as for the caste and complexion fixation...I don't know what to say...I have heard people argue that people from similar 'caste backgrounds' will more comfortable in adapting with one another, and I have actually heard someone say this (groan)...but somewhere along this line of thought, the value of human characateristics get lost...and what of educational backgrounds, (and I mean love of similar subjects, etc) or common interests? ...and we still discriminate against those considered "lower" than us, (and I use the word with much, much sadness, that we still think like this)...that we cannot 'condescend' to scale ourselves down on our constructed heirarchical ladder ...education gets reduced to merely a qualification, a degree which will translate into a job, and this simplistic reduction of a field as rich as knowledge is doen in the name of being practical, pragmatism...we are forcing ourselves into this blatant and obvious state of Myopia...and the value of Universal Feeling gets lost...and as for the complexion bit...some may argue it is an aesthetic choice...but somewhere in the sea of demands for porcelain complexion, the obvious marginalisation occurs...and the media also pitches in, to capitalise on this sick obsession, forcing girls who do not blend into this prescribed palette of colour, to suffer unecessarily from entirely avoidable issues such as low self-esteem and depression...even the most casual of comments in regard to such sensitive aspects can scar a person deeply, or atleast compel someone to feel the need to use skin whitening products...and this compulsion is what is lethal...to say nothing of the eating disorders brought on by the highly unrealistic expectations of body types imposed upon so many of us...what has Education taught us? Oh, heaps of things, Undoubtedly...how much have we progressed, though? How open are our minds? Let us Give people a chance for their own sakes, for Personality's Sake, for human traits' sake...please. It is really, really a shame if we cannot extricate ourselves from the mire of such petty thoughts, if we are caught in the disgraceful cobweb of discrimination, using 'caste, creed and colour' as the essential components of our guiding compass, then we should feel ourse;ves burning with shame of the highest order.
 I mean, Seriously? What is wrong with us?

Suddeness

For the past few days, I have suddenly been engulfed by the feeling that I cannot write...it's not that I have felt that I cannot write well, it's just this feeling of not being able to write at all...it was like one of those nightmares from which one cannot possibly awake...one of those bad dreams which go on and on...and I tried to think of what was going wrong. So I decided to write an anecdotal blog post, which would not involve any syntactical flourishes (not that I have many), and talk about one or two incidents which occurred this December.
One of my closest friends got married. It was nothing short of a fairy-tale ending to a long and sweet romance. But there was another 'fairy-tale' ending waiting for me. This friend and I had had not spoken to one another for almost two years. We had had some juvenile and exceedingly silly fall-out over nothing in particular...and I missed her, a lot. There was another friend who was very close to us as well. After the stupid misunderstanding, all three of us tried to make amends, but somehow the cracks refused to seal themselves...or maybe we couldn't seal them well enough...it was just one misunderstanding upon another, and I presume it left all of us very hurt and sad. It had been a special friendship, you see. University days could not be recalled without the painful jab of recollection, that we had 'parted ways,' to sound dramatic!!
We moved on with our lives, made new friends...and God has been kind, I have never had a dearth of friends...actually, no one ever does...friendship is like one of those precious reservoirs, a plentiful resource...one needs to look around and listen...and anyway, who said things inanimate cannot be friends...books, music, movies, the arts, the Sciences...Nature...everyone of them has seen me through some lonesome spells and hours.
Well, anyway, I digress, so back to my story. After I went back home this time, a lot of my friends called me up and said that this friend of mine wanted to get in touch with me...but I had had no idea that she was getting married. Many thanks to those wonderful friends who got us back in touch, living right up to  playing the benevolent messengers. She had promised me, in those long ago days, that whenever she would get married, I would have to come and attend her wedding, from whichever part of the World I was in.
And then we spoke...and she sent me one of the most touching, honest and wonderful letters I have ever received in my life. I realised when I read it, that I had been waiting for it all along. And all credit to her, for being so warm and pro-active, and re-kindling the old warmth of our connection. I know her husband well...he was and still is like a brother to me, and how wonderful a couple they make...
On the day of her wedding, I couldn't hold back my tears...some will say that I am being sentimental, but Life has taught me to value sentiments...more so on certain occasions...warm hugs, quick snatches of conversation and many pictures later, we were happy...the venue was exceedingly romantic, and my Parents and I sat on a table, on a dreamily decorated roof-top of Tollygunge Club, and partook of the hearty and delicious wedding repast, madde sweeter by the secure knowledge of a snug friendship renewed. To make things even better, I met my favourite professor and one my favourite teachers...in addition to exchanging pleasantries with common friends and familiar acquaintances...
Another incident pained and warmed my soul. I went for the Memorial Service of one of the best and finest teachers the World has ever had...I think this is a profession which commands and deserves respect...and we, who have stepped into this realm, have a lot of ideals to live up to and put into active practice. Adjectives fail m if I have to describe the kind of teacher Mrs. Nonda Chatterjee, Principal, CIS, was. She was brilliant enough to have taught at any University...Calcutta International School was synonymous with her...she taught O and A Level History and Literature, with an ease that belied the daunting nature of teaching...she was equally brilliant at Math. and Geography...and when she would teach us History and Literature, her analogies would range from Chemistry, Physics and also Economics. To her, Knowledge was an inter-related whole. Keats and Tagore were among her favourites, though she could speak eloquently on the subject of just about any writer...she had a broad cosmopolitan outlook, was dedicated to a superlative degree and had travelled many nations, and was full of anecdotes, each one relevant...she shared with us, so generously , so liberally, her views on a multitude of subjects...she remembered us...she connected with us...she made us discerning, critical and mature readers...I fumbled as I spoke at her memorial services, all semblance of eloquence abandoning me, being swept over by wave after wave of strong emotion. May her Soul Rest in Peace.
And then I met old school friends, my cousins, and someone I regard as closely as I would my sister...Aand of course, I was spoiled by the Love of family...Thank God for Love...it keeps the world on its axis, puts things into perspective...and keeps us warm and cozy...

A Symphony of Silence

I have been Silent for a while. A long while. To be honest, I was numbed, numbed and sickened by what happened to a girl, only a little younger than me. I was shocked at the potential danger and violence lurking within human nature. I was sickened to hear of what happened to the poor, poor child. I can only pray. We can all only pray that each of us looks deep within, and that each of us, in our own special way, will try to become a better human being tomorrow, learning from our mistakes of today and yesterday. Because it is only through deep introspection and love of humanity, love for one another, can our society survive.
I have been bursting with a multitude of thoughts of late. But I buried them, buried them deep under the anguish and sorrow the past few days put all of us through, the suffering of an innocent, young, aspiration-filled, dream-filled girl.
Then there was the trip back to Kolkata. The thing about one's home city is that one never has to justify why one loves it. I cannot pin-point specific reasons, though there are many, to be sure. Meeting up with my Family, feeling Familiarity wrap itself tightly around me, like the blankets I used to ward off the Cold at Night, I feeling the gratifyingly scorching warmth of love, feeling the shivers of anticipation which trickled down my spine every time I went out to meet an old friend... I attended a Departmental reunion. I patched up with a dear friend and that was very gratifying. I attended weddings. I attended family reunions. Oh well.