My echo, My shadow and Me...

On the way to office, suddenly I realised I have forgotten to take the cell phone with me. Reflex of the mind was to rush back. But already I have had crossed three fourth of the distance and decided to do without it for the day. "Hey guys, I am minus my cell today..." "Are you sure you have not lost your cell again?"...I was not, but there was no way to confirm. So better be comfortable with the idea that I have left if at home. As the day progressed, I started feeling like Gulliver in the alien land. Every time there was confusion my hands rushed for the cell. Oh Shit! Most of the communication in the group takes place through it. (Not necessarily a call. At times a miss call meant "I'm not getting you. Call back through the intercom"). More than that it was the phone book, hand watch... Still it was not that bad. No cell means you are not reachable anywhere and everywhere. That means no unnecessary interference from the bosses in the form of necessa

Devine light, at least that's what his name (Divyajoyti aka Divya) suggested and he was considered to be the most irritating element of the class. Hardly showed any interested in getting accolades by getting some appreciable marks in the examinations. When it came to girl teasing, Tiffin snatching or starting quarrel without any reason at hand and giving pseudo name to the teachers, he was the numero uno. Getting punishment for breaking rules during prayers was a normal feature... I still remember the punch he presented me for lodging complains against him from the capacity of a class captain. But in the same time, I also remember the day when my concept about this naughty class mate of mine changed. It was a lunch break; we were playing carom in the common room. Divya appeared from somewhere breathless. Be must have ran for a long time, which is hardly acceptable to the hefty body he had. " Aklanta, come with me. There's an urgent task to be done." "Where are y

Boys don't cry ...the lesson I used to get often from my parents, from the time I started fighting with friends and brothers..."it's girlish, you know" and we believed only girls have had the right to weep of cry...after being punched or beaten, we struggled to keep up a brave face with dry eyes...at least when there were people around...I remember many occasions when I successfully stopped my self from weeping, even though I was alone... But that particular incident changed my notions...I was preparing from the tenth standard (it's considered to be a landmark for careers of students in our region as results of these decided which college you would join and what will be your future course...my dream was to be a scientist and so...) At about ten in the night, I felt some one was peeping inside through the door curtain... "Milli, just come in" "Hey what happened, why are you crying?"...swelling in her eyes showed she has had hours cry already. Sh

I used Google for the first time in 1999, to search the lyric of Bryan Adams' “summer of 69", just out of curiosity (the name tickled my senses). I was yet to realise, it would one-day turn out to be an integral part of my profession (couch potato scribe!). After that it hardly happened that I browsed the virtual world and not Googled. And just like a loyal friend, Google never (almost) turned me down. I never feel short of information. I never worry about things I do not know, knowing that they are just a "click away”. But after these entire accolades, perhaps it was time to get a glimpse of the other side of the coin. The other day, I started writing a news story at hand. As usual the first thing to do was to Google for backgrounders. But unlike the other days, my request returned with an error notice. Some problems in the server have dislodged me from the giant search engine. Oops...I decided to go on without Googling… Then there was the next shock, when I realized t

I was trying to make a final decision. Shall I continue surfing the idiot box or shall I go to sleep? After nine hours of work and three additional hours of travel, to and fro home, body refused. But mind, as usual, said lets search for the last time…please…and fingers obliged, pressing buttons of the remote… And after a while, I was there in Zee Studio...train arrives at a ice capped station…Lasse Hailstorm directed "The Cider House Rules"…The first scene caught my imagination. Mind gained weight over the tired body and when I was finished with the movie, two hours later, I was just left wondering, where's all my fatigue gone! As a child Homer Wells (played by Todey Maguire) has seen many of his fellows saying leaving the orphanage with families adapting them. Homer was a trained (but not certified) physician by his mentor, Dr. Wilbur Larch, who wanted affable Homer to be his successor. But unwilling Homer one day makes a conscious decision to go out of the four walls of

A scene triggered by an undoubtedly disgraceful news paper advertisement. Only a few days back, a pepper spray company came out with a campaign for its products, created by an extremely innovative (!) ad maker, only to be caught by hawkeyed reporter of NDTV "Tomorrow if your daughter is raped, who is to be blamed? The rapist or you?" (The copy apparently claimed the parents are to be blamed for no arming daughters with the deterrent, pepper spray) Undoubtedly punching but ridicules… Consequently there was out burst of social activists, citizens forcing the company to withdraw the advertisement. But following this there was yet another ugly scene. NDTV started flashing its impact story. Idea was to produce a clear impression of its might in the minds of its viewers. "Look what we have done, for you". Ignoring the facts that it does not have to blow the trumpet of its abilities, credibility to its viewers and admirers. Obvious way was a panel discussion, around the is

Some time in August, 2003…After spending two vital years in Bhopal, it was time to say good bye to the city…already almost all the university mates had left for various destinations in the country with future dreams…in the past four days I have visited the nearby Habibganj railway station nearly fifteen times, to see off friends…one of the most touching moments I have gone through in my life…we were getting scattered just as we gathered in the city from every where two years ago. And now it was time for me to arrive at Habibganj (the first and only ISO 9002 station in the country…), probably for the last time in the next few years. The last half an hour I spent there, waiting for the train to leave I tried to grab a few snaps of the station, place I loved the most in the city...the place in Bhopal I will be mission the most in future.. . There were memories scattered on the platforms in the platforms, on the waiting chairs, near the tea stalls…every time we felt low, we wanted to spen

I might be one of the most vocal WWW enthusiasts, spending most of the time sailing on the virtual world. But if you look inside me though my iris, deep down you will find traces of pain, pain of loosing something that used to be my passion. Something that lost its glory in the cyber explosion, struggling to survive, I know in vein...I am talking about the hobby called DXing...simply it means distance listening... What does DXers do is to listen to the numerous radio stations on air (mostly in Short Wave)...you are the amateur monitors of the radio broadcast, world wide...It can be from any of the stations, BBC, VOA, Deutch Wella(The Voice of Germay), Radio French International...list goes on an on...you switch on the radio in SW band, keep rotating the tuner knob...if you rotate fast, you will hear some ku ku ki kyu...tu toui...like sound..but if you be careful and patient enough, one of those sound will turn out to be a station, transmitting some where from a remote part of the w

I know nothing under the Sun will be sufficient to reward Bubu for what he taught me...I used to be a passive listener of music, until one day I met with him when I was at the 9th standard...one batch senior to me...but some how(I can't remember exactly how) we crossed over the standard barrier...what I remember is he have had a music system and a huge collection of music cassettes, starting from English rock, pop to classic Hindi songs...from old Assamese numbers to classic Bangla numbers As his family rented a house just next to us, we used to spend most of our loose time together listening to the songs from his collection...we experimented with the speakers, and sound boxes...we used to surf the electronics market searching for speakers that produce best speakers at the cheapest price...at one point of time we manage to fix eight speakers at different positions of his room...then search for the points on the floor from which we can hear the best stereo effect...sound of drum bea

After a long time, I did something I love so much...walking in the rain...random drops lashing my face dragged me years back...to the muddy road in front of my house, ten minutes walk from the bus stop... I still remember, every day I used to pray, "Oh God there should be rain on my way back home after school"...'He' (almost) never disappointed me... and on the way back, on bus I enjoyed many things...drops of water and cool air lashing through the window...indignation, apparent on the faces of the fellow passengers (the ones without an umbrella or a raincoat)...looking out through the windows to assume whether rain will stop when he or she reaches bus stop...satisfaction of the intelligent ones (who took the pain of carrying an umbrella, even though the sky was blue in the morning)... I used to be among the unfortunate ones (but) waiting eagerly for the stop to come, after which there will be no roof above and the first, second and third (to be frank, all) options be

Daag Ache hain... “Akoo, have you seen the latest Surf Excel add?” “Which?” “The one in which the elder brother fights with a pool of mud to make his sister laugh, after she slips into it?” “Not yet.” “Kya yaar…kaha rahte ho?” “Hey come soon, here’s the add again” I was touched by the commercial. It’s more than an add. Yes there are so many scars, stains I would like to live all my life with. Each of them added colour to my life. I know there will never be a stain remover that will be able to remove them. In fact I wish I do not find one. In case you want to be touched, just click the link…. http://www.agencyfaqs.com/advertising/imedia/rams/surf_excel_05092005.ram