Rights of Admission - RESERVED

Amongst a whole host of things that I have been contemplating in the last couple of weeks, there has been a predominant thought on my mind. I really don't know how most people manage this situation, but I am often left bewildered by the way most people receive it. The point in question is, "Saying & Accepting a NO"

Pardon me if I keep re-iterating that growing up does this, growing up does that, but I surely believe that all adult manifestations are deeply rooted some where in our childhood. And most of my writing stems from where we all were when our beliefs, characters and lifestyles were being formed. I have always maintained that parenting is a tough thing- and knowing the difference between parenting an adult from parenting a child is the toughest. I can almost hear half my audience sigh and an emphatic exclamation of how do I know anything about parenting. Well I am not challenging anyone or their ways, but I increasingly feel that there has to be an emphasis on "agreeing to disagreeing" bit.

I often get told that I rebuff at most proposals. At other times, I am told I am insensitive. I am also told that I do not care for people and their emotions and related offerings. I am told I do  not understand what others are going through. I am told my world starts and end at me. All of the above majorly guided by the fact that I do not agree to everything shoved my way all the time. When in reality I either affirm or refuse a proposal only basis what I feel like doing with the time I have on my hand. I strongly believe that once you are an adult, you are solely responsible for the things. activities, emotions and feelings you will subject yourself too. Then why this whole pandemonium about always receiving an acceptance from other people for what you want to do with your life.

I was told only last night that if I was refused a situation, I would never ever come back to ask again. And it was told to me in a manner to make me feel apologetic about it. OFCOURSE I will not come back to ask again. Not because I don't value other human beings but because I seriosuly do. Because I genuinely accept and respect one's decisions to refuse. If you are an adult I assume you have thought about a decision before expressing it. If you were a kid who needs to be coaxed into a particular experience, I will try a couple of times. But definitely not if you are above 18 years. I mention the figure not cause it testifies anything in particular, but even the world's oldest democracy gives you legal rights to get married, have sex, procreate, to be prosecuted in non-juvenile courts et al at that age. Those I consider the BIG decisions of life. So I am sure you are responsible enough to decide on things that you want to do with your time otherwise.

Thats where I feel parenting comes in. All our growing up years, we are always encouraged to say 'yes'. We are encouraged to not express our disagreement publicly. We are made to feel terrible about refusals, disapprovals, denials and rejection. What we miss out on is that these are matters of personal choices and nobody gets defined by anybody else's expressions. What we miss out on is that it is not always amicable to agree. Sometimes it takes just a push over the edge to be amicable while disagreeing.

Perseverence & persuasion are virtues definitely but as we go along our days, knowing where to draw a fence becomes irreplaceable. And like you gaurd your own boundaries, allow others to gaurd theirs. And do not corelate & confuse a series of emotions such as love, care, affection with expression of denial.

Now after all the deliberation, I feel and I urge all my readers to find yourself a rights of admission notice in life. Please say assertive "No's" when you don't want to do a particular thing. And develop an extra ba** to accept even a polite "No". Coz that is the tough part.

Oscar Wilde's "The Selfish Giant" had a beautiful garden with 12 peach trees and fragrant flowers(which is interpreted as Paradise) and that fell into perpetual winters with the wall built around and the famous words put out "TRESSPASSERS WILL BE PROSECUTED". May be coz of the use of a strong word as prosecution this phrase has an extreme connotation, but has still found its popularity among all generations since it was immortalised by the author. In today's world to protect the paradise inside of you and have the christ child visit you to blossom your frangrant flowers and the spring to sing in your heart- it is almost imperative to keep the noise and chaos of trespassers(my use here is indicative to the old saying and not personal to anyone) out.

Disclaimer: Some of you will feel and find resemblance of our conversations lately in the post above. BUT Any (even faint) similarity to any persons living and/or dead (especially alive & kicking ones), or events, real and/or imaginary (especially real) is purely, totally, completely and/or most probably accidentally coincidental."(#source of inspiration:jimmydumps)

Stay Well Everyone. Love to you all.

The "Bangali" in me........Quintessentially Clandestine

Almost everyday when my alarm(which incidently is a technical phone beep) goes off at 6am, there is a song playing in my head. It is so precise that it surprises me. How when I mostly do not even recall my dreams I am able to remember the lyrics and tune as if someone sang to me right then.

Well,the first thing that I do each morning is to play music anyways; and on the days when I have these unique ones playing on my mind long before I even wake up, I play those FIRST. Today I woke upto this song: Tagore's "Aasha Jabaar Pother Dhaare". I first heard this song on my summer vacations some 15years ago from a cousin who was comprehensively trained in what all Bangalis resonate with - 'Robindrosangeet'. As didi sang this song to all of us assembled in a north-side room of our ancestral house in Medinipore on a sultry summer night, I felt an irresistable urge to learn the song and keep it by heart. I eventually did learn the song by that fall. This song was also the first amongst choice of songs for my All India Radio show later that year. Please don't re-read that last line- coz yes I do not come across as a singer anymore. And I also only today remembered about this one-off feat of mine so many years ago. But all Bangali girls are singers in their teens(mostly) and we all sing Robindrosangeet.

At this point, I wish to bring to my reader's attention this whole connection between us Bangalis and our own Robindranath Thakur. Actually it is not exactly like you read it; not that simple. It is more deep-rooted than one can comprehend - "Aamader Nijer Robindronath".I am sorry to sound over-possesive and at times even under-mining non-bengali ideas of Tagore, but seriously(but not offensively) I feel that apart from scholars who research on his subject and even them at times, common people cannot comprehend the expanse that is Tagore. I am yet to find another parallel to Tagore's following amongst bangalis in any other community atleast in India. So sometimes I am at a loss of words and expressions to explain to friends and colleagues when they ask what is our big deal with Tagore. And yes there are enough ignorant people around us even in most evolved habitats, where we go about our days and years.

My brother and I grew up on a staple diet of Robindronath all through our childhood. Rather I would honestly claim that our love for cultural literature actually started there. And with him, we learnt the most important aspect of culture, religions, regions, caste, creed- it is acceptance & tolerance. His writings stand for everything liberal & blatantly honest, bare. His songs, poems, stories encompasses almost every situation that the human race could broadly be subjected to, in the era he lived in and beyond it too. Like the song I woke up to this morning: "Aasha Jabaar Pother Dhaare". The song has such a wide relevance that it has never ceased to intrigue me in the last 15years that I have been listening to it. This is not to say that his other work of literature hasn't affected me. This is only about this particular song and me. I am going to attempt to explain the song to you all(pardon me for any irregularities). This is not a translation. This is MY INTERPRETATION; and why it touches a different chord each time I listen to it.

Well, also I would urge each of you to think and express in comments what you feel. Please feel free to critique and add to mine - as that remains my quest from my own writings. I will not have a round off statement at the end of this blog and leave my readers with just Robindronath's magic. That will be the befitting culmination of my day today.

The song was written on 25th March 1922. Tagore was 60. 


Aasha Jabaar Pother Dhaare Gaan Geye Mor
Ketechhe Din,
Besides the path of mundane tread, my days have gone by singing my song
As the world passes by, I sit along the way and sing my song

Jabaar Bailaye Debo Kaare Buker Kaachhe
Bajlo Je Biin
The day of the departure, with whom shall I leave behind the notes closest to my chest
When the day of judgement arrives, whom should I handover my heart's tunes

Shuur Guli Taar Nana Bhaage Rekhe Jaabo
Pushpo Raage
The notes I will divide in many parts and arrange in floral notations
The notations of my heart's music I shall neatly illustrate like flowers bloom- flawlessly

MiidGuli Taar Megher Rekhaaye Swarno Lekhaaye
Korbo Biliin
The rhythm and intricacies will be drawn in golden drawings in the skyline
The highs and lows of my heart, I will draw intricately like clouds in golden lines

Kichhu Ba She MilanMalaye Jugol Golaaye
Roi Be Gaathaa
Some notes will stay strung together in garlands that young couples exchange at marriages
The notes will be carried beyond this lifetimes as they bring the right and might in youth together in a transcendental union

Kichhu Ba She Bhijiye Debe Dui Chahoniir
Chokher Pata
Some will bring tears to young lovers eyelids
Some will drench in themselves the two who have found their calling in each other

Kichhu Ba Kon Choitro Maasher
Bokul Dhaka Boner Ghaashe
Moner Kothar Tukdo Aamar
Kudiye Paabe, Kon Udashiin
Some will be found with the Bakul flowers on grass bed of this forest, with strewn pieces of my heartfelt words by an incurious person walking this path.
The rest of the notes with my heart's story/chapters/details will perhaps be discovered by lonesome soul wanderer among the Bakul flowers on this forest trail when the white of the flowers would envelope the green of the forest in all-encompassing love of all seasons. Like the flowers fall to embrace the earth in unconditional love, my heart's tunes may be embraced by this disinterested wanderer and may it resonate with his heart's tune and revert his apathetic indifferent view of the world.

Above I consider is a very brave attempt. May be it should not have been. But Now it is here for you to read. So here it goes, interpreted twice coz I could not cover even the gist in the first go. Please leave a comment with what you feel.

Thanks for dropping by. Look forward to many more visits from all of you.

Time Talks

The china cup sits on the table
Pedicured toes peep out
Of the matt gold bordered
Burnt red six yards of his favorite

Occasionally the toes wriggle
Go back and forth
Revealing the flawless white skin
The green veins almost seen through

Through the glass top of the table
The crossed legs at the knees
The polished seesham frame
Of the table accentuating the angle

The stillness of the solid wood
Framing a picture of many a moon 
The saree fluttered with the airflow
Of the table fan placed a lil away

The tinge of sunlight from the window
Refracting through the glass
Making the amber glow of the silk below
While the fragile feet swings in and out

The gap in the curtains also
Keeps changing with the swinging fan
The light keeps playing hide n seek
The eyes keep dodging the rays

The eyelids bat furiously to combat
The light that pierce the pupils
The teeth bite the corner of lips
To express the love of teasing

The finger daintly circles the cup rim
Swiftly as the hand of seconds
Going mechanically round the
Dial of a time-marker

The coffee that was steaming
Quite a few hours ago
Sat there for her still waiting
Wishing for the gale to settle

Sun was out outside the window
Nature's blizzard had passed quite soon
But there was still the winds of fury
Blowing in the grey corridors on her mind

Her life pinned on the wall behind
Plans & subsitutes always side by side
Till she took to believing promises
Till she finally looked away that day







The round stain of the coffee cup
Remains valiantly embossed
On the glass table top
Testifying the time that went by

Undaunted witness of the burning amber
Enveloped inside the favorite six yards
The storm outside & the one inside
Fury that flew & the one held back

The chapters of a day when the cup
Sat here for hours with her finger
Circling its rim again and again
Before leaving behind a part of her smudged & soiled......

Mehram..... Mehram......

Since very long time, I have  played the track from the album Aman ki Asha called Mehram by Meenal Jain for the soulful rendition of this Punjabi song(ohhhh I have an affinity for that language and get invariably attached to music from that province more than often). My love for the land of five rivers actually goes deeper with the creaminess of their lassi, richness of their curries and the crispness of their paranthas. The song continues to play on loop on my system through the entire length of most solitary nights and brings about a swaying calmness. In the foreground there has been innumerable beautiful conversations. Also there has been times when silence has spoken, interpreted and instilled some interesting and perpetual thoughts.

For many years I believed I was only a rhyme and rhythm person. Music for me was mostly about the notes; highs and lows. Music for me was about the rhythm and my love for fitting things in their designated place only accentuated this affinity to measure and tempo. Rhythm is a tricky thing and yet is what has some mathematics, so some calculations and therefore some definite logic. Somewhere deep inside of me or perhaps everyone is a strong sense of rhythm. Rhythm of how life is happening to us. Rhythm of how we see things appearing and disappearing from our lives. Rhyme is another of  those interesting parameters. We spend most of our lives believing that it will all rhyme at the end. But I feel that there is a reason why a free verse is called a free verse.

And though my mind vehemently debates- DO NOT GROW UP. Its a MYTH. And I possibly eventually did. And then my focus shifted from rhyme, rhythm, beats and feel to the most intrinsic variable of music - the LYRICS.

“Disappointment came to me, and booted me,
and bruised and hurt me, but that's how people grow up.” - Morrissey

Bringing you back to where we started. "MEHRAM". A colleague and friend of mine took the holy pilgrimage that every able-bodied Muslim endeavors to undertake at least once in their lifetime called Hajj last year. That is when I learnt many interesting details about one of the largest annual religious congregations that fellow humans participate in. What I learnt among other things is that every woman pilgrim who decides to undertake this holy journey must be accompanied by one male member of her family. This relative member with whom she is permanently forbidden to marry because of blood ties, breast-feeding or ties through an existing marriage is called a Mehram(sometimes spelt mahram). When my friend nonchalantly used the word one day, it took me back to this song that I have been listening to for a while. Took me to read up and understand the significance. Though for a person originally not of that faith, I do find some of the regulations pretty staunch and strict but growing up has taught me to exercise restraint in developing negative opinions about things I am not in complete know-how of.

But as I continue to listen to the mesmerizing Punjabi lyrics, I can't help but fall in love with the concept of "Mehram". I want to state in earnest; that may be this is conceivably my own interpretation of this term and but then so is the length and breadth of my entire blog. Read Up anyways. If you like it, leave a note. If you don't, just leave. :)

Mehram; a person so sacred and sacrosanct that is prohibitory. A bond you share that doesn't let you traverse boundaries. A person who is responsible for you. A person without whom you can't take this journey. A person who in some way validates your presence at the court of lord. A person who in all senses circumambulates the holy house of God with you- step in step.

My inquisitive self found it disappointing to learn that Only & Only Muslims can perform Hajj and Umrah. But then there are rules, I understand. So lets just for a moment, if we feasibly allow ourselves to imagine our lives as a journey where it is mandatory to have a Mehram- how would it really be? Please park the feminist sentiments aside and just think how beautiful(allow yourself to read romantic) the concept is. 

Mehram; a relationship so sacred and sacrosanct that is prohibitory to continue without. A bond doesn't let one traverse boundaries and take in infringements  A person who is responsible for you, without whom you can't take this journey of life. A person who in some way validates your presence in this universe  A person who  circumambulates the power source of all energies, the SUN with you year after year.

The post must end with what it started- a stanza from Mehram, the song

Ishaq Khumaari Laake Badla Naal Udaari
Chadhdi Jaanve Ishq Khumaari
Laake Badla Naal Udaari
Ki Gum Hai Do Toli Jaanva
Mehram Mehram Boli Jaanva

I will not even attempt to translate the above. But please feel free to ask.

P.S- look up and listen to the song. It has some magic of Its Own.