Red Man

I met this young boy who showed me the world

Who told me that life was not grey or white

People would come and people would go

But all that mattered was how cruelly they would fight

He showed me what he dreamed to fulfil

The dedication he had, seemed to work uphill

The dreams he possessed was laced in pain

Every day was a challenge, a lesson to gain

Clear cut in his views he would speak of a time

When together we would live, within reason and rhyme

Where cribbing and bickering was a twist of chance

Where every microcosm was spellbound in a dance

This young boy was generous and jolly and kind

He rested all problems of mankind in his mind

We knew we could all depend on him

His passion was different, flowing over the brim

The only thing that bothers me now

Bearing the brunt of everything around,

Taking care of everything he holds dear

In the end, who WIll take care of him, I fear

~

os

A Meander

I thought I will never write a line again

I never thought I will

Isn’t there a phase in everybody’s lives where one stops completely and seeks no more

Isn’t there a phase in everybody’s lives where they stop looking back and even forth

I’m not trying to write a poem

Oh I am not

So don’t mind me, it is just scrap.

That day when I was flying over god knows what the state was, maybe UP,

I saw a meandering river

Pushed by the burden and volume of water, it bent over and curved continuously as an old living body

Ultimately it pushed itself out, to form a singular ox-bow lake

Moral of the story is that, (and i have been getting a lot of moral of the stories for quite some time now, the tortoise and hare trilogy)

I am not a river, I’m human. Hence even if I am pushed with burden and what not

I will withstand the motion and not keel over

The strength to stop me from doing so will take away all I possess

But I will not keel over

That is the irony of fate.

And he says I will laugh at his back and forget him.

And he says he will fight fate

He will fight whatever comes to walk against the tide

To sword it in its face and tell it to go to hell

I say, even if you think you will do the opposite

It is written from before

Even that is pre destined.

I historian, not the material scientist, tend to believe in destiny. Alexander believed in chance.

Not me.

I don’t see any of that with my myopic vision

Bullshit.

First Song

Once not too long ago

In a world devoid of spite and grief

There lived a maiden, dressed in painted pain

Yet, she wore her golden heart, on her sleeve

...

It’s not her eyes, that matters much to me

She had a vigorous, spirit much too free

She ran the gauntlet, with danger all the time

Joy was when, her voice rang out in rhyme

...

All the meadows, became much too green

The brooks filled out, deliciously again

Spring was dancing to her tune, much to her delight

Her retreating footsteps, ushered in the night

...

Like a bird, traversing her sky

Her home was where, her heart had made a try

But she knew, she had to go away

Not a plant, or a soul could make her stay

...

Her life remained, a dream to dole out love

Bring forth some laughter, a giddiness and spark

As years passed by, one tended to forget

How we lost her, in the dreamy distant dark

...

Once not too long ago

In a world devoid of spite and grief

This girl, she taught us how to live a life

How to love, how to give, how to strive...

gaNjakhuri

Scene one:

Ekti forsha chele boshey achey, tar mukh ta thik dekha jacche na. pechone dewal ar almarir oporer Nandita Das ar Bob Dylan er duto poster abcha bojha jachcey. Shomoy shondhya kina bojha jachey na, halka alo ashchey ekhono janala diye. Onekkhon holo dujonei chup. Ki jeno ekta taal kete geche. Kotha boltey boltey hothat kore bairey brishti portey arombho holo, probol bege…odbhut jorey, shamney thakle hoyto awaj e emnitei keu kaukey shuntey peto na. ei oshombhob bhashiye dewa srabon er prothom plabon e hoyto dujonei bheshei jeto. Chele ta erom kichu bhabje na, or mon porey achey, barir chaad er ghor tae, koto din eromi adho shondhya bela katiye chilo nirjoney, pub diker kon er barir dikey takiye, kinba, chaad er railing er bairey hath baar kore, brishtir chaat dhorar cheshtae, kotobar nijei bhiegeche. Bari tey erom katano tae jeno kono koshto chilona, janto ek haak parley, ma gorom gorom cha niye hajir hobe, tarpor, shondhya dholtey dholtey cha er sathey ma and chele tey miley jombey darun adda. Kintu aj jeno brishti ta chokey angul diye dekhiye dichchey, shoto haak parleo ma cha er cup haathey ashbena, shotobar bairey haath baraleo brishtir jol er sathey, kon er barita konobhabei dekha jabena…shotobar cheshtha korleo kichutei chokh bondho korlei sada oshombhob bhabey clinically porishkar ghorta, shei jonjal bhora chaad er ghor hoye jabena… oshombhob eka. Oshombhob eka.

Scene two:

Onnojon er mukh e kotha nei. Karon ektai. She reads every unsaid word on his face. And it pains her that she cannot reach out and say, its alright…its fine.eto bhabish na. ar matro koekta din to. Dekhtey dekhtey bochor ta shesh hoye jabe. It pains her to accept that she is helpless here. Kono bhabey Jodi or potent byatha tar kono relief ditey parto…atleast kichu ekta Jodi appropriate boltey parto. Goto 7 bochor er modhye to konodin aj obdi sensible kichu boltey pareni, aj Jodi boltey parto…if only. Imagination was so strong and fanciful to her, that she could almost close her eyes and feel the rains splash against her moist skin, leaving running trails down her arms, and she could almost hear his silent breath on her neck when they stood at the window, facing the greenery and buildings in the distance even more hazy with rain… she could almost sense his melancholy and her heart tore to reach out to him, wrap him in her arms and soothe him with gibberish baby-talk, something incommunicable to us, but meaning the world to them… she could almost feel his hard skin under her hands and she could almost see him, looking up to her like a lost kid, hair ruffled, wanting to be patted on the head, and given a kiss… when she opened her eyes, he was still staring outside the window. A screen of silence separated them, or maybe it was the only thing that connected them along with the modem.

Scene three:

Dari ta rakheni thank god, but jhulpi ta dekhe boss…kono purono din er black and white almost hero hotey hotey villain er role pawa kono obhinetar moton lagje. Bhodro keu holey bolteo “bah tomae to besh kobi kobi lagje”. Guitar kadhey cycle chalano teo aantalmi dekhatey na parley r ki presidency tey porashuno kora. Emon ekta bhab korey cycle chalano je money hoy, every single fibre of his body seems to say to his unquestioning audience – ei, rokkey, tumi ki jano je ami bajatey pari, huhu…tomra ki paro? blood relation na thakleo jimi Hendrix amar shomporkey pisho hon, ar john amar dada. John maney john denver noy, oshob khuki der faltu idol worship, ei john hochhyen john lennon. Beatles er nam shononi? Aha, poka makor er kotha k bolchey, ki shob antabrir dol, beatles ekta band, boyish ta ki gachey chorey bereche? Unissho shottorey kothae chiley? Mog daaley? Na college ey? Kader niye shonshar korchi, bhoga tuley ne!

Tearing her eyes off the screen, she picks up his call. Oshomoye bibroto koratey guitarist ekkebarey genius. Bol.ki byapar, kodin dhorey phone tulchilina, eto bar message korlam, ekta replyo dilina, presentation kemon gelo? Tokey to pawai day. Eto busy mohila je ki korey amar priyo bondhu hotey parlo bhogobani janey shala. Ektu byasto chilam, bol ki hoyche? Bhalo achish to? Ami bhalo achi. Presentation went well. Chap achey ei semester e janish to, final sem e onek kaj thakey, dissertation er kaj kortey kortey pagol hoye jachchi. Hya hya, bujhechi. Shob byastotai to amar phone ele tor bere jae. Ki korchili? Emni kichuna, keno bol to? Na, haathey amar jonno shamannyo shomoy achey? Hya bol.. bolbona, ekta gaan shonatey chai, toke shonannor jonnoi kal theke pagol hoye gechi.. eto baar tai phone korchilam…Jamaican farewell’r ekta bangle version achey, janish? (he was still gazing out in the distance, lost in thought… what is he thinking, I wish I could know…I wish he would let me in) hya shunechi. Kalu’r golaye shunechilam… oh, besh besh, ami sheta kal shuney odbhut bhabey emotional hoye gechilam…praye kedei felechilam janish…tui shuntey pachchish to?(chords a, d, e…’r tung tang awaj elo, besh taaleyi) shona, ami shunci …

Aha pother prantey oi shudur gaye,jetha shomoy thomke thamey boter chaaye,

aha shondhya dwip joley tarar tip, ar fuler gondhye mor mon mataye,

aha kon shudhur shei shopnopur, mor mon j gaye ghor e ferar shur,

mor poth cheye ajo shei meye, bujhe shopnojal boney gaan geye...

She realized her eyes were swimming. It was disastrous. She hoped he would remain looking away…she didn’t want him to know. She was not weak. It was the last thing she was. She couldn’t let him feel. She wouldn’t… kon shudur shei shopno pur, mor mon je gaye ghorey ferar shur…mor poth cheye, ajo shei meye, bujhi shopnojal boney gaan geye… as if she was waiting for him, as if she was really waiting for him to come back, waiting for him to say something… bullshit! ... but she was. She would forget everything, give up everything, everything. Just one word… One simple word, or even a look…please look at me, it’s the right moment…twilight streamed through his glasses and filled the room… she could almost inhale the fresh fragrance of the earth that came in with the first monsoon showers… could he be thinking of her…

and at that very instant…He turned.

kirey Bonya

Bonya…

Scene four:

And she disconnected the phone. Hot tears splashed down her eyes as her hands fumbled at the modem wire to yank it out of the laptop. She ran out of the room. Damn the retro hero, his timing for playing such a song was as worse as his pronunciation of the word “angel”!!! damn him. All his fault. As brilliantly as he sang, she would deal with him later. As fast as her legs would take her… across the corridor, across the lawn, up the stairs, four flights, till she reached the terrace, and sank down on the upper parapet, struggling against the wind to keep seated back. She loved to risk everything. Her life seemed very petty at that moment. She had willingly let him go, not stopping to even make the slightest urge to stop him or ask for a fragment of his heart. He had never understood, and it was fallacy to hope that he would. A few shared sentiments, old instrumental music, an old tin of Havana mini cigars, an old breezer bottle painted with enamel paint was all that was left tangible between them… the rest was to be with her forever. He had no right over it. If he never asked her to love him, how could he ask her to stop loving him and forget him and move on with life? Everything was not a hindi film, it was not a scripted play to know the beginning and the end. It was not a game. If only she had moved out when she had the chance… if only… she could have caught him by his collar and shook him and told him to shut up and listen to her for once. She wished she could stop feeling so much. It was a pain. Every story doesn’t have an abrupt ending. But what if there was an abrupt ending to this, and she wondered… And somewhere in the distance, soft wails of Yumeshi’s theme from an

old movie sadly faded away and she closed her eyes till…

there was no more and left.

Buntai

New Delhi

8^th March 11

                                                                  forshar nandita

                                                                       forshar dylan

Class KG - C

I couldn’t think of how to describe a perfectly beautiful childhood. we all were kids, we all were scolded and thrashed and the horrors of being a naughty kid was aplenty, but happy memories remain deep down in the corners of the mind... faint ... waiting to resurface. 

Do you remember the time when you were not there? Of course how could you, you were not there. You were growing up in different circumstances, and with different friends around you...I was growing up too, but in a different way. My school was a co-ed school when I got admitted but by the time, I reached class 5, all the boys had left for a boys’ school in the neighbouring town. The story of my admission is extremely dicey too. My mother used to teach in the school, where once she had studied too. Now when I was a kid, merely 4 years and with extremely innovative tantrums right at the time when she had to get ready to go to school at 8 am, she would invariably indulge me and get late every single day. Sitting smug at this point in life I feel sorry for the fact that I was such a brat.

The principal, Sister Andrea loved her very much because she was one of those really nice girls in school who cared for everybody around her and loved her school and was ready to sacrifice all her time for the young kids. So Sister Andrea gave her an idea, she said, bring her to school with you so that she can’t be naughty anymore and let’s see how it goes. And so I used to go with her, and later when admission forms were out, she even handed my mother a set asking her to submit them. I was the youngest of the lot. 4 years, I mean who sits for a kindergarten interview at 4 years flat? I don’t really remember what happened at the interview, but based on the stories I heard from ma and baba, I gather that Sister Andrea along with Mrs Rita Ukil (my biology teacher in classes 9-10) and someone else who I don’t remember was there. The funniest memory I have is that of the rest of the other bawling kids around me, all screaming, or hyper active panicky, while I was sitting dangling my legs from a table top, gazing at the insanity setting in steadily more among the parents than among their kids.

Soon enough I realized I was in class KG.C with the most wonderful teacher Miss Nita Chowdhury. She was a darling, and specially loved me. (I mean everybody does, how can they not love someone as adorable as me J, eh?? ) I spent my days scraping my knees and playing with the boys, (there were absolutely no girls in this horrendously hooligan group, all ninnies i must say, all miss-goody-goody's!!) breaking windows with wild ball throwing and cricket, standing in the sun holding my ears, and losing my specs all the time, while I would see my mother walk back across the field with her colleagues, who would all smile and say – now what have you done, Oyndrila?? What an embarrassment! I remember going to the senior staffroom when ma called, to have curd, sitting on her table terribly scared to look at all those cross old teachers who looked so stern and grim. I remember waiting at lunch one day for ma, when I saw her scolding another tall girl in a green uniform, who was sobbing profusely and almost shaking... I remember being in awe of this woman then. To me, she was one who told me stories at night and woke me up in her arms every day. But at that moment she seemed a woman of power, a woman of command. I refused to go back to the staffroom ever again.

The afternoons were very boring. We had a horrible thing for 1 hour before 2 pm assembly – the sleeping period; where boys and girls in class would have to put their heads down and eyes shut and go to sleep! How perfectly dreadful! We sleep t home, why on earth should we sleep at school that too on a perfectly sunny day with the entire field just beckoning to us to come and play!!!

One day after school, when I was waiting for ma to come from the senior school, an idea struck my mind, and I re-entered the classroom with a piece of chalk in hand and started scribbling and pretending to shout at a room full of non-existent students! I also drew an elephant, a cat, copied numbers from my maths notebook, and in big bold letters with a smiling face at the end of the line, I had scrawled : “ABBA is my best friend” J Not my mistake really, I grew up listening to the LP gramophone records of old English albums at home, and I took care to even write the second “B” of ABBA’S as its mirror image exactly like I saw on the cover of the records. Invariably, when Miss Nita came back the next day, she called me and asked whose handicraft it was since I was the only one who used to wait after class hours. I smiled sheepishly and mumbled to her about the jumping song of a piper, russia’s love machine, a sad Fernando and his bright stars and the happy new year song... will you believe what she did, she gave me an éclairs J and I went skipping happily off to play J 

Ma And Miss Nita Chowdhury

LIVING THE 3 DAYS OF WOODSTOCK AGAIN

15th August - 18th August 1969 

Poor Max Yasgur's dairy farm land, in Woodstock, Ulster County, New York, away from the din and mechanical drone of the city... Even the silent hayfield never guessed the approximate number of milling men women and kids who would troop in to its peaceful surrounding...making the next three days an unforgettable monumental moment in the history of music in the whole world! Within few hours of the 15^th , voices were heard coming in on bikes, on trucks, on tractors, on their own vans and chevvys, on bicycles, and even by foot. There was a mad rush of setting up the stage, nobody was too big or small, too exclusive or even too snooty to take off their shirts and hammer planks into place, and build the entire stage, backstage, and cubicles for the equipments, towers for setting up the sound boxes, and wired the place for sound within an exceptionally short time!

It was as if they were working like hell, driven by the excitement and urge to make this meaningful , as if their life depended on it, that when they turned back to check out how it looked, their eyes fell on the audience which they had estimated would be a few thousand, but what they saw took their breaths away... Uncountable, as far as the eye went over the lazy hill, under the mellow sun, for acres and acres around, thousands of heads could be seen, waiting expectantly for them to start...

And then, Richie Havens came on to the stage with “i cant make it anymore”, and went mad singing his “freedom” all over the stage, riffing his acoustic with a passion never seen before. It was as if the guitar in his hand and he were united in their own emotions, dead to the world, possessed with fever! Donovan with “yellow is the colour of her hair” and Daryn Stafford with his “i said i believe”. It was evening when Joan Baez came to the stage with “i dreamed i saw joe hill last night alive as you and me” and ended with “swing alone” 15^th nights’ performance was brought to an electric jamming by the artists of The Who singing “see me feel me, summertime blues”...

The next day when it was light enough to check out your immediate surroundings, one could see the mass insanity setting in... girls in sarong, jumping around like crazy were tearing daffodils mumbling he loves me, he loves me not...

There was a young girl who said that her mommy she would go to hell, her mommy never understood her, and there was no communication between them, age gap, generation difeerence, or god knows what... she was all here, smoking deeply though those young lungs and dreaming of going along with the flow. The fellow who had hooked up with her was equally enthusiastic sitting outside with no money in his pocket for a ticket to enter the hayfield said, that his dad thought he was in the communist training club, what he believed was in drugs and revolution, and once he got to Woodstock, he had swore he would think about it... 60,000 people came here for what? people do not know how to live anymore, they do not know what to do.. they are lost - they came here for answers...they came to be free....

Back at the stage was the Sha-Na-Na singers, A. Singer, J. Medora, P. White with what became the cult of the youth for decades to come, “lets go to the hop” and Joe Cocker and his “with a little help from my friends”.

Nearby along the vans between breaks and short gaps in music, we see energy exercises - kundalini yoga to be specific. Same rush we get from drugs...clean air is what we want, we will experiment with this, and get high...the nerve of awareness... this was what was being taught... taught to free oneself...falling into the mad frenzy to be free...

A sudden brewing storm unexpectedly was suddenly looming up on the crowd. The stage manager and the team together screamed on the microphones to cover the  equipments, to get away from the towers, maybe if we think hard, we can stop the storm, wind is strong, please take it calm and easy, we will groove to Country Joe soon enough"... the rain chant...magic. mud. madness... Bodies from hell, or heaven as i would prefer all intertwined and covered in mud, as if from a Dante's painting said someone in the crowd after Creedence Clearwater's performance... all over the place, people were all smoking pot and blowing into the air from hand crafted aluminium foiled pipes with arlo gutherie’s “coming into los angeles” in the background...

The next day Crosby, Stills And Nash was up on stage with “Judy Blue Eyes, Sea Of Madness, Wooden Ships”  and later,  Alvin Lee “ im going home” from his band The helicopter and Jefferson Airplane sang “wont you try my love?”

Meanwhile, people were on the phone lines, and quite suddenly, the US Army arrived to give them a medical team, “they're with us man, they are helping us, 45 doctors, here without pay, taking what it is all about...”

Morning showed naked kids at the drums, kids playing at the tent poles, at their mommy's breast, on their papa's shoulder while John Sebastian sang “younger generation.” Country Joe Macdonald electrified the crowd as they sang along with him, “5-6-7 what are fighting for?”

Max Yasgur and his family along with some older men went stomping off the farm, "its a disgrace - our fields have been cleared! its a mess..its a loss”...they were pissed off at the 60,000 spending their days lazing around as if in an open whore house, devoid of scruples, religion, culture, and sense ... the beautiful young nymphs, dancing in the waters, cleaning themselves...on the beautiful afternoon... and the young men joining them in the game they called music and free love...

We got one more tune for you.... Joe Santana “ soul sacrifice”... no words to describe it, a mad exhilaration and ecstasy... Santana and the banjos, his killer drummer, and the electric pulse. All raising hell and fire inside the souls present... Sly And The Family Stone “baby take me higher!!!” and Janis Jolin “dont you forget me lord!”

Something was proven to the cosmos - the largest people assembled in one place without any thought for few inconveniences of food and water, shelter. The singers and their audience were connected. When they were hungry, love kept them alive.

The Woodstock stage welcomed Jimi Hendrix who started with “the star spangled banner”, then moved on to “purple haze”, and ended with an instrumental on his guitar driving them crazy with his crazy shit.

The last scene in the documentary on Woodstock showed me the entire crowd cheering and screaming and overflowing emotions....

The world's largest gathering at one place...

Music and madness...

To be relived again and again.

Woodstock.

ALVIN LEE AND THE HELICOPTER WITH I'M GOING HOME

JOAN BAEZ BACKSTAGE WITH RAVI SHANKAR AFTER JOE HILL

COCKER AND HIS WITH A LITTLE HELP FROM MY FRIENDS!

CROSBY, STILLS AND NASH WITH THREE MAD NUMBERS JUDY BLUE EYES, WOODEN SHIPS AND ENDING WITH THE SEA OF MADNESS!

DONOVAN WITH YELLOW IS THE COLOUR OF HER HAIR <3

JIMI HENDRIX WITH PURPLE HAZE!!

JEFFERSON AIRPLANE WITH WON'T YOU TRY MY LOVE?!

RICHIE HAVENS WITH FREEDOM

SANTANA

SANTANA WITH SOUL SACRIFICE

SEBASTIAN WITH THE YOUNGER GENERATION!

THE CROWD OF 500,000 AT WOODSTOCK 

KUNDALINI YOGA FOR A CLEAN BREATH AND TO GET HIGH!

SHA-NA-NA WITH LETS GO TO THE HOP!!!

ARLO GUTHERIE WITH COMING INTO LOS ANGELES

COUNTRY JOE WITH WHAT ARE WE FIGHTING FOR!

JIMI HENDRIX ENDING WITH AN  AWESOME INSTRUMENTAL!

In The Mood For Rain

T e en   d i n   d  h o r e y   b a i r e y   j  h  o  m j  h m i y e   b r i s h t i   h o y e   p r  a n   t a   j e n o  b  h o r i y e   d  i y e   g e l o   r e t r e a t i n g   m on s o o n s  .   F e b r u a r y   s h  o t t i   m a  d e  m e   s h  i v e r  .   B a r i t e   t h a k t e y   b r i s h t  i   m a n e i   b i k e  l   b e l a  e   g o r o  m  c  h  a  ,   m u r  i   a r   b e g u n i . . . a  a  r   s h o  n d  h  e y   h o t  e i   n a   h o  t e i   m a  k  h  i c  h u r i   c h a  p  i y e   d  i t o  ,   n a  m t e y i   e k   d  a l a   g h e e   p o r  e   j e t o   h a  r i r  m o  d h y e . . . t o  k  h u n   b o  k a r   m o  t o n   k i r o  m   –   “ u f f   g o r o m   k i   g o  r o  m ”    b o l t a m ,   a j   j e n o   s h  u n n o  t a   t a i   b o k a   l a  g j e ,   b h a b l e i   b h a b i   s h e i  b i k e l   g u l o   j e n o   s h  o r g o   c h  i l o .   S h o rg o   t o   t a n g i b l e   n o  y ,   s h o r g o   t o  a m i   j e k h a n e y   s h  e t a o   h o  t e y   p a r e y ,   a m a r   d e y a l e   d e y a  l e  b e a t l e s ,   a a r   b i c h a n a  y e   g u i t  a r ,   t a b l  e   e   l a  p t o p ,   a r   c o  n n e c t i o n  p e l e i   . . .   e t a   t o   a m a r   s h o rg o  .   

K i r o  m   b h o  y   l a g e y   m a j h  e  m o d h y e ,   s h o b   k o t h a t e i   e k  t a   c e r t a i n   c h a r  a c t e r   e t  o   b e s h i  b h a b e y   j o r i y e   a c  h e y   a m a r   s a  t h e y ,   e   j e n o   k o  n o   k o b i t a r   l i n e   e r  m o t o n   l e e n   h o y e   g e c h e   a m a r   s h o r  b a  n g e ,   a m a r   c h  i t t o  ,   m o n ,  p r a n   e .   T i  b r o t a r   k o  n o   m a a p k a  t h i   t h a k l e   h o  y t o   b a   b o j h a n o r  c  h  e s  t a   k o  r  t  a  m .   E  k  k  a  l  e y   k  o  n o d  i n   e  r   b r  i s h  t  i   t e  i   s h  u n  e c  h i  l  a  m  s h e j o n   f o o t b a l l   k h e l t e y   g e c h i l o ,   d e k h e c h i  l a  m   t a  r   j a n a l a  r  k  a  a n c  h e y   b r  i s h t i   t  e  y   e k  e   d  i  y e   g e c h  e y   s r i  t i  r   o  k  h k  h o r e   k i c  h  u  b h e j a   a m e j  . . .   b i  s h e s h   k i c h u   n a ,   e k t i   b h a n g a   b e n c  h e r   g a a n . . .  a j k e r   b r i s  h t i   t e y   e k  t a   o n n o   b y a t h a   l u k i  y e   a c h e y .   T a k e  y   j e n o  p r o t i d  i n   n o t u n   a l o t e y   n o  t u n   r o o p   e   d e k h t e y   p a  i ,   p a g l a m o r o  t o   b o  u n d  a r  y   h o y n a   n o  i l e   m a p   e n  k e   d  i  t a m  ☺  . . .   S h o m o s t o t a  r a s t  a   j o l   c h o l c h o l   k o r e   a c h e y ,   a r   a m i   f i r c h i   g h o r   e r   d i k e  y ,  c h a   e r   c u p   h a a t h e y   n i t e i   j e r o  m   h a l k a   g o r o m t a   c h u y e   j a  e  s p i n n i n g   t h r o u g h   t h e   a r  t e r i e s  ,   a j   k e  n o   t a r   s t h i r   h o  y e   t h a k a  m u k h   e r   d  i k e y   t a k i y e   t h i k   t em o n   e k t a   m o  n e   h o l o  .   A s   i f  c h o c o l a t e   m e l t   k o r e   j a c h h c e y   o n   t h  e   t i p   o f   t h e   t o n g u e ,   t h i k  j e n o  ,   c u r v y   k o  n o   h o  t   t u m m y ’  r   o p  o r   b o r o  f   e r   k u c h h i   j o l   h o  y e  j a c h c h  e . . .   a p p r o p r i a t e   k o  t h a   t a   k h u j e   p e l e   b o l t a m ,   m u s h k i  l   t a  h o c h  c h  e y  a j   k o  t h a   h a r i y e   j a c h c h  e y .   T h  i k   b y a t a h   n a ,   b o d  d o b e s h i   a n o n d o   h o y t o .   

K h u b   s i m p l e  e k t a   j i  n i s h   b o l t e y   g e c h i l a  m ,  b  h  i j  e   b h i  j  e   a  j   b u s   t  h  e k  e   a  j   j o  k  h o n   n a  m c  h i l  a  m ,   k  a  r  u r   e  k t a  m o  b i l e   p h o n e   e   b e j e   u t  h l o   t h i k  s h  e r o k o m i   s i m i l a r   w a r m   e k t a  s h u r   e . . .   C a l i f o  r n  i a   D  r  e a  m i n g . ..   s h  o k a l   1 0 ’ t a   t h e k e   b h a b  j i  t  a  a  k  e  y   b  o  l  i   b  y  a p  a r   t a  .   B  h  o  r   t h e  k  e   p  o  r  e r   b  h  o  r   p  o  r  j o  n  t o   a  m  a r  s  h  a r a  d  i n   e r   s c  h e  d  u  l  e   e   s  h h e   e t o   j o r  i y e   t h a  k l  e  ,   a  m  i   k  o  r  i   t a  k i . . .   e s h o b   b u j r u k  i   p r e m   t e m m   n a ,   a r   n y a k a p o n a   a m r   d w a r  a  h o b  e o   n a  ,   j a   b h  a b i   t a i   b  o l i ,   t a t e   g h o  r  a n o r   k i c c u   n a i .   V  i c e  v e r  s a   p r o c e s s   o   n o y ,   j e   a m i   e k  t u   r  e l i e v e d   h o  b o   e i   b h e b e   e k l a  s h a l  a   a m a r   s a  t h e y   s h  u d  h u   h o h c h e y   n a ,   b y a p a r   t a   t e n a r  s a t h  e o   h o c h c e y ! ! ! !   p r o t t e k   t a   m u h u r t o   j e n o   t a r  i   s h e k h a n o  ,  t a a r i   d e k h a n o ,   t a  a r i   f e e l   k o r a  n o   k o n o   n a   k o n o   m u h u r t o r  a l a r  m   b a j i y e   d e y .   E m o n   k i  ,   b h o r   e r   a c t u a l   a l a  r m   t a o  D i a m o n d s   a n d   R u s t   e r   p r e l u d e .   A m i   r a k h t e y   c h  a i n i ,   b h a i   s e t  k o r e   d i e y c h  i l o ,   s e n t u   h o  y e   k o n o d  i n   p a l t a i   n i .   S h o r b b o k h o  n .  K i c h  u   n a   k  i c  h  u   e k t  a  ,   d  o m i n  o   k  h e l a r   m o t o  n ,   e k  t a   a  c t i o n ,  s e t t i n g   o f f   t h e   r e  s t   o f   t h e   m e m o r  i e s   i n   m o t i o n .   

A m a e   k i   b h o o t  e   p e y e c h  e ,   n a   t u i ?