Priority?

Fuck it’s a Friday ! You wake up feeling nauseated from the previous evening’s humiliation in the board room. You wake up and caress your son whom you only get to see sleeping nowadays. He is asleep while you make your way to office in the morning and he is already asleep by the time you get home from said office. You reason out saying that it’s a price you are paying for the position you hold and then feel nauseated again. You pick up your mobile wondering what other message may have crept into the phone while you lay hurt on bed. There is none, which you find surprising and a cold wave makes it way up your spine.. why no messages ?You see the time on the mobile instead and an urgency to take a dump, shave, shower, dress up, stuff up and make your way to the board room to face further humiliation takes precedence over seeing your son sleep. 

To each his own Godot

I am no student of philosophy neither do I have what it takes to decipher the classics. I do not know what or who Godot is. Samuel Beckett on being asked if by Godot he meant god, replied that had he so intended he would have made it evident.I sure believe that to each his own Godot. So who is your Godot, who is the one worth waiting for, but who you know ( from the play) will never come or more dramatically, never arrive. 
For some it would be Avijit Roy and Barun Biswas, who will never return home, and yet we know they will have to return..again and again, by some other name perhaps. For some it would be 'Holud Pakhi', the bird which will never return and yet we reminisce it through songs.. 
My Godot is an abstraction called justice.

To baba - to be a rock and not to roll !!

Those big rough hands which once cradled me and didi now hold my son. Those tales which once fired my imagination - Pirates and of great adventures at sea, of Moby Dick and Fidel Castro, of Lucy lost in the blizzard and tales from the scriptures will soon regale my son. Those lines and wrinkles on his face like ancient rivulets tell stories of struggle and hardship, of the many paths taken, mistakes made and triumphs enjoyed. Albeit weakened but those eyes have witnessed history of this nation and of his own family. History, which he still recalls with great accuracy. Spartan-ish disciple, hermit like disregard to worldly trappings, Stoic optimism and ice –cold patience defines him. Bent maybe but never broken .. that’s my baba !

Let a home never be a house

When does a house become a home and more poignantly, when does a home turn into a house. They say every house has a heart and one has got to listen to it very carefully to hear it beat… hear it above the sounds of laughter, din of brooding silence, screams of rebellion, cries of heart break of its occupants. You learn to match your heart beat with that of the space around you. And at that precise moment cement, sand, brick, paint, furniture, fixture ceases to exist. You resonate with that beating heart… your house becomes a home. Memories are born, which hang not just as framed pictures on painted walls, but hang in the air that you breathe. Occupants grow, leave, die but the memories remain, holding onto some other time, refusing to skip a beat, keeping it warm under a blanket of emotions.

A more difficult question to answer is, if at all, when does a home become a house? When do these memories turn sour and the air poisonous? When does the beat fall off rhythm? When do you hear it no more? Perhaps we all know the answer or can atleast hazard a guess.. Perhaps best to avoid the question. Perhaps to each his own.

Not a great feeling

Its is not that I am not trying, perhaps not trying enough, perhaps trying wrong ! Getting self consumed into a downward spiral of dark foreboding. Something needs to give..real soon. Got nothing to write, sketch, sing about !

That's it for now.

The Coalition

From Mohiner Ghoraguli to Bollywood via Bob Dylan. From Classical to Rock via Folk. From Rabindranath to R D Burman via Nusrat Fateh Ali, our musical influences know no boundary, while our preferences represent a seamless co-existence of genres. Our band members comprise of individuals whose background is as diverse as their musical tastes. Students, Professors, Corporate professionals, Engineers, but perhaps whose singular point of congruence is that of an unflinching passion for music.  Befitting therefore, that we call ourselves ‘The Coalition’.

Theseusian Paradox

Over the long August weekend, had the good fortune to watch this seemingly abstract but incredible movie called the 'Ship of Theseus'. The film has been critically acclaimed as one of the finest Indie Indian film ever made and it has won enough awards across the globe to justify the same. It is an educated, thinking man's film as against say a Salman/SRK cash-cowish movie which I am sure appeals to a much-much larger audience base and successfully ropes in the monies fueling the production of more such cash-cowish movies. I am not questioning the intelligence of people who pay to watch these films, perhaps the un-intelligence is what makes these films attractive, like the monotony of EDM music is what makes it appealing.

Anyway coming back to the movie and what it got me thinking on is this - If a company were to replace each and every employee with new employees would it still remain the same company, or if the replaced employees start a new company would it be the original company itself? If a company is more than just its name then what constitutes it? If it is people who create and imbibe so called company culture and philosophy then by apriori reasoning the new company formed by the old employees should indeed be the original company.

No? I welcome your views and counter-opinions.