Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Of Being 23

My 23rd year on this planet has been by far the most exciting and eventful year of my life. I'm no longer 23, however, it shall remain memorable forever. Mostly cause never ever has so much happened in one year, nor has life lent so much gyaan in one year. So much so that I wish every year of my youth is like being 23 (Youth lasts till 35 I'm told by a very reliable 40 year old).

Things I did/gyaan I gained when I was 23:
1. I found peace in an environment I despised. I know I can find peace anywhere.
2. I tried LSD. Best thing I ever did.
3. I traveled alone for the first time. To places I had not known to exist.
4. I watched Soulmate live. Twice.
5. I went to Bhutan.
6. I realized that traveling with women can be fun. Also that not all women are vexatious.
7. I realized that a
rational man does not have unlimited wants. Rather it is irrational to have unlimited wants.
8. I saw more stars in the sky than I'd ever seen before (or after till date). Thrumshingla Pass.
9. I nearly failed out of college.
10. I managed to graduate.
11. I chose to believe in God.
12. I experienced the bliss of unemployment.
13. I got a job on my own terms.
14. I got sober (Realized that prolonged sobriety leads to being horny).
15. I had my first one night stand (and one day stand - separate occasions) and it all was good.
15. I have gone 5 months without taking a single day off. Miracle considering my college attendance till just a few months back.
16. I have lived, enough to know that I'm not living anymore but rather going through the motions.
17. But now I have a plan. Another first for me.

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Graphic Designer Alert!! (There's a new kid on the block)

A friend recently chose to quit his job and go freelance. He's a graphic designer, though not formally trained, he has considerable experience as a designer for his age . I know him well and know that he's good at expressing a sense of beauty in print.

So here's giving a little push to a young start-up. Anyone interested/requiring graphic design work can find him here. All relevant details are available therein.

Cheers.

Monday, December 21, 2009

Of Reality

Last evening I watched Celina Jaitley get hypnotized on television, in what was apparently a live recording. Noting my surprise my mum informed me that many television stars were getting themselves hypnotized on this new show.

Celina discussed her dog, dog's death, boyfriend, and how she wants to leave and go to God ...with her eyes fluttering and voice quivering for as long as I watched.

Meanwhile Robbie Williams released an album last month. I used to like Robbie as a kid. Especially till Escapology I think.

It is becoming increasingly difficult to wake up in the mornings. And I hate the fact that I don't have any holidays.

For once in my life I know what I don't want to do AND what I do want to do. Unfortunately life isn't as simple as what I want or don't want anymore. Not if you're not alone.

Friday, December 18, 2009

Of Darkness

There are places in every city where the unseen partake of activities that ought to remain unseen. For example deserted parks, river banks or a lakeside, cemeteries, marketplaces where you get fake/smuggled goods and even places of worship. Oh and railway tracks, always railway tracks, especially nearby the local stations.

A whole new world emerges after sunset. It is where the peddlers hang out, the cheaper whores whistle at cabbies, junkies smoke and chase, and gay men suck dick. There is anonymity and definite carved out spaces for all giving vent to their respective natures. All seeking a moment of sinful comfort or simply earning livelihood.

A certain kind of all, for despite the difference of activities they have something in common. Go figure what but know that those who don’t belong, stand out visibly. It’s all in the open, really. But no one watches out for it. Hence no one really sees it. Kinda becomes like I can see you, but you can’t see me. Why? Cause you don’t even know I’m here, that’s why.

And it all transpires under the watchful gaze of the night away from the eyes of the clean cut kid who’s been to college too.

It gets real lonely in a city sometimes. And it isn’t the same as being alone. I miss being alone.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

It can be unnerving hearing a voice extremely familiar, yet being unable to put a face or a name to it.

My father hails from Agartala, Tripura where the paternal half of my family still owns considerable estates/property which have been subjected to various litigations and family drama. However, in the good old days when I still used to wear shorts to school (we wore trousers from 8th Std. onwards), my father used to take me to our home in Agartala atleast once every year. It was there that I had the first taste of having siblings for there were cousins all around. In fact there were 14 of us in all. Several of the older ones were in hostels and colleges across the country and hence you only heard of them. But we, the younger ones, were present in enough numbers to bring down the house as they say. It would be like the cousins already residing in Agartala would be awaiting my arrival for then they could play and sometimes even bunk school for well you only got to see me once a year. And in any case the rest of the families would be busy with my Mom and Dad. My Dad is a superstar in my clan (don’t ask) and my mom is the only city girl bahu in the family and hence subject to a lot of attention. So I was special cause I was from Calcutta (which is like New York to a kid from Agartala in those days) and my parent’s kid and we had a car and all of that (in those days Agartala had electricity for a grand total of 5 hours a day, and cycles were a young middle class college graduates dream - something like having a bike in the city - and there was no cable) and also cause I got gifts for everyone. In fact I'd be given a list over the telephone of what to bring for everyone. Now of course my parents did all the purchasing and hence a lot of demands weren’t met cause they weren’t chotoder jineesh (stuff for kids) but no one really cared as long as they got something. We were kids alright.

The part of the house we stayed in was inhabited by my father’s immediate elder sister (he has five) and her family comprising her husband and two daughters. The younger daughter Munai and I were less than a year apart, she being older. And since my pre-puberty days till sometime after that, we were the best of friends. I remember she would get into all sorts of trouble because I would go out of my way and be a pest to the neighbours and everyone in general, and more often than not, she would be my only companion despite knowing that she would be solely held responsible by my aunt for her and my acts cumulatively. She didn’t seem to care though. The other cousins, including the male ones were a bunch of pussies compared to her. We bought eggs and chucked them into neighbour’s houses through open windows, sat scared out of our wits inside the loo at the farthest end of the pond on our land in the middle of the night waiting for ghosts, got caught and slapped for it by our worried parents who had been searching for half an hour, stole mangoes from the neighbour’s forests (well she did cause I couldn’t climb the trees), and even shat on an evil uncles brand new Bajaj Chetak (well I did, cause she sometimes remembered that she was a lady, and no she wasn't looking, she was the outpost).

She took a lot of beatings for me. But it was almost like a price we both knew she had to pay, and well we were gonna do what we were gonna do anyway, so it didn’t really matter. To her or me. Suddenly now it does, to me.

My father had to return to Agartala last night due to an emergency. Later in the night I got a call from an Agartala landline and there was a girl on the other end. And it was that voice. I knew the voice, but had no fucking idea who it was, except that it was someone I knew very well.

We stopped going to Agartala sometime during my 7th/8th Stds. Munai and I gradually lost touch. I even forgot about her. In the middle I would hear sometimes my father mention that she had graduated from school or that she chose to do a Bachelor’s in English Literature, that she refused to get married, that she tried to get into Jadavpur University for her MA but her father wouldn’t allow it, that she was a teacher in a high school in Agartala. That she’d grown very tall and very quiet.

I spoke to her last night for barely five minutes. We didn’t bother exchanging pleasantries cause well we couldn't recognize each other for a while. She informed me that my father couldn’t get in touch with me cause there was network problem and that she would take a message if I had one. I didn’t. I asked her how she was and she said she was fine, and there was just a little catch to her voice, like she didn’t expect me to ask. Or thats how it seemed to me. She didn’t ask how I was. It had been over 10 years since we last spoke.

Last night a lot of memories came back to me. Memories that were put aside to the immense restlessness of growing up, and perhaps to hormones. Now I can’t stop thinking about her, about our home in Agartala, the way things used to be and the way she spoke last night.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Of Ataraxia

Finally figured out a word for what I’ve always aspired towards. Achieved too for a short time. Discovered it while watching Lucky Number Slevin for the second/third?!? time.


Now on the other side of the fence and looking back, I feel we had to be innocently out of our fucking minds to have been like that. No regrets though. Good times. Didn’t have a word for the way I felt then. Its good to have a word for a particular feeling. Then again there wouldn’t be any poetry if there were words for all feelings.


Ataraxia. Where have you gone babeh?

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Blah Blah Blah

Winter in Calcutta is like one of those albums that have withstood the test of age for an individual. The ones which are played when nothing in particular comes to mind. They're always secure, warm and often nostalgic. I'm glad its winter now. The season seems to be the only thing beautiful enough to be distracting me from my current obsession that is MYSELF.

And its always been beautiful, especially during the evenings.

Watched a lot of films this weekend. First up was Ninja Assassin. There are bad films and then there are films which are so bad that they're awesome!! NA falls in the latter category for me. Absolutely brilliant. Loved the fight sequences and the painful way in which they tried to show the emotional turmoil of the hero's early years. Was non-stop action and comedy. Plus I'm a sucker for swords and other sharp objects being used as weapons, especially against the gun touting white man.

And this one had a chain-sickle. Too-fucking-cool.

It doesn't compare to Ong Bak though. I watched the second part of the trilogy and was mesmerized. Tony Jaa is the best. And it literally kicks ass of all high budget hollywood action films due to the sheer intensity of the violence it reveals. Have a newfound admiration for Muay Thai. Must get me hands on the other Ong Baks.

I also watched The Dog Problem on TV because I had nothing better to do. Loved it. Its rare to find comedy acts that make you laugh at life and not at cheap jokes. Want to watch this one again without the intervention of dad wanting to watch the headlines every ten minutes.

Last but not the least Anari No.1. Govinda Rocks. Period.

No winter is complete without the consumption of dark rum in copious amounts. Mission was accomplished last Saturday wherein the frivolity of promises I make to myself was revealed yet again. I'd promised myself not to drink beyond 3 pegs, but then ...I lost count. But it felt good. Still I have decided not to partake liquor in any form anymore.

Atleast till Christmas.

Cheers.

Friday, November 27, 2009

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Of Changes

Today is Bengal Bandh. I must say our state has come of age. Despite the fact that traffic was unusually light today during the rush hour, all private and Government offices remained open including the Trademarks Registry. At my office, which is Bong infested, we had a full house in terms of employee attendance. Triviality for those who reside outside Bengal, but major change in attitude for those who have been born and brought up in the State.


In other developments the old tree at Vien that was destroyed by the cyclone leaving behind a tree stump has now been completely uprooted by the Kolkata Municipality. The surrounding seating area under the tree’s shade, affectionately referred to as the Throne, has been destroyed and replaced with a patch of the same pavement that it was on. I miss that tree. Over the years many have sat under its shade, and then lack thereof, sipping tea while fending of flying cockroaches and big fat rats that used to reside beneath it and become friends. Now its all gone. Just like that.


I wonder if its a valid excuse that something should not be maintained simply because its become too difficult to maintain or because there is a cheaper/more practical alternative than maintaining it. Personally it isn’t cause I’m not like that, but from a state’s perspective. Practicality is important I understand, but is it fair to achieve the same at the cost of one’s identity? I’m not sure there.


One of the things I liked about this city was that people never bothered replacing the old with the new and efficient. Now things are finally changing. Attitudes, as well my favourite pavements.


Also today this space turns a year old. It was started form the offices of a tax consultancy in Bangalore. It’s first anniversary post is being typed from within an IP Firm in Kolkata. Random information.


Cheers.


Wednesday, November 18, 2009

From A Softer World ...



To KK, Loks, Viki, Sangu, GC, Bob, DVR, Booty, Baaz, Shetti & JAA. It'll never be the same again, but it was fun while it lasted.


Ps: The above work is copyrighted to Emily Horne & Joey Comeau. Used for purely sentimental purposes.

Monday, November 16, 2009

Blogosphere to the rescue

Found this while browsing through archives of The Ordinary Man. He's the reason why some observant people at work think that I'm half crazy cause I seem to be staring at the screen intently and laughing at the same time. Haven't been snared by me boss though. Not yet.

A dreamy little poet
Sailed off to a south sea isle.
He met a girl named Laurie
Who smote him with her smile.

Often she would dance for him.
She was his closest pal
But no one ever told him
That she was a cannibal gal.

So one fine day she ate him -
A pity! But that's his fate.
How sad to be remembered
As the poet Laurie ate.

---- Poet Unknown

Kartik Pujo

Today is Kartik Pujo. Who is Kartik? Well he is the lesser known son of Goddess Durga, and is often overlooked by many as a God that must be paid homage to. Most, but not bongs. Nossir. Bongs do Pujo even for Lord Kartik. The circumstances in which the same is adhered to however, are fascinating.

All families are not required to worship Lord Kartik. Kartik Pujo happens only in the more traditionally bengali middle class areas of Calcutta. The Pujo is initiated by people of the locality - generally young and unemployed men - who drop an idol of the aforesaid Lord at the doorstep of any house in that locality wherein a new couple has moved in that year. The drop is celebrated and announced by the loud burst of crackers and cheers and is accompanied by a list of names of those involved in the drop. This in turn impugns the responsibility on the household thus attacked to take the idol into their home and conduct a Puja on the given day by feeding all those whose names appear on the attached list, every year for three years since the drop. On the fourth year their is a ceremony and again lots of feeding, this time on a slightly grander scale, and the idol is immersed thereby relieving the household from any further feeding duties.

This was explained to me today by a fellow lawyer who was looking for a half day due to such celebrations to be conducted at his parental home. His brother's marriage two years back brought with it Lord Kartik in their home in the aforementioned fashion.

You learn something new everyday.

Thursday, November 12, 2009

If you aren't getting something you want..

maybe you're not ready to have it yet. --- (Courtesy Baba)

I don't completely get it though. And I'm tired.

Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Freedom is a weird thing. There was a time when there were parental restrictions annexed to living at home. They have lapsed now that I'm a working man and contributing to the family income. However, being 23 and having lived on my own terms (or fighting rules imposed by an authority) I'm used to a certain lifestyle I find unable to sustain at my parental home. Not because there are rules prescribing otherwise but rather out of respect for the other members of the family/environment I live in today. Its like there are no rules to break, but I'm aware of the responsibilities that exist and fulfilling my own wishes attaches a kind of guilt to it that I had never felt earlier, not even when I'd run away from campus to watch a concert in another city right in the middle of my exams.
There was no guilt, only a thrill of being wrong. I don't like feeling guilty. And wonder of wonders, I seem to care.

I'm too young to care. Atleast I want to be.

I met a pretty girl at the bus stop a couple of days back. I actually mustered the courage to go up and speak to her. Desperate, not reckless, is my middle name. But she was real sweet. The conversation turned pointless cause I didn't get her number (remember reckless is not my middle name) but I did get her name just as my bus rolled in. Was a first for me in terms of hitting on an unknown female. And it didn't turn out to be a complete disaster for my ego and self respect. Phew!

I miss getting high.

Its strange how people use the misfortune of others to express/advertise themselves and their feelings when it is totally unnecessary. Also to sometimes reveal how much they know or what they know, when frankly they know jack shit about the person concerned.

I think silence is frightening for most. And death is probably the heaviest silence of all.

To DVR. Goodbye yaar. I've only had good times with you. I hope you don't stop practicing that harmonica. Make it wicked and them notes they'll bend soon brother. RIP.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Of Days and Loooong Days

Every week begins with a Monday, and you know its a Monday cause you hate Mondays and you spent most of yesterday in bed. Then comes Tuesday, when there is still some recognition left of yesterday having been Monday. The flummox happens the next morning or the morning after. By the time your life hits the middle of the week the senses and perceptions have already been numbed, and the week has dragged on for too damn long to remember whether its a Wednesday or a Thursday - Funny, the days are named after father and son - and they inadvertently spill onto Friday which literally make them one long ass day comprising of 72 hours. However, Friday evenings there is hope and recognition slowly creeps back in, for the next day is to be half day (which means I'm at work till only 6pm... Le Sigh!) and more importantly Saturday, which in turn means that I'll be drunk by the time Sunday morning rolls in.

I tried figuring out what day it was today en route to work without cheating on my cell phone calender. I tried hard. I failed. Means I'm somewhere in the longest day of the week.

They call it stormy Monday, but Tuesday's just as bad; Wednesday's worse, and Thursday's also sad ...

Last time I quoted Mr. T-bone Walker was roughly 7 months back. What a difference 7 months can make.

Monday, October 26, 2009

beer o' clock

Last evening I met B. after ages. Or what felt like ages. We used to practically live together, alongwith a whole bunch of others. Strangest family possible.

B. and I gulped down inordinate amounts of beer and felt happy. Despite the intense hate-hate relationship with my university, these days I seem to find true company only amidst people I shared the worst times of my life with. I wish I were geographically closer to more of my batchmates. Hell, I wish I were in Delhi. No matter what, I'd be happy. And free.

I still am. But its too stable, too taken for granted. Too goddamn protective and easy. So much so that there is no space left for myself. I need to be around people who are too busy with their lives to bother with meeting up and faffing around everyday, but would still come and sit by for a drink/cup of tea whenever needed. Calcutta is more or less the same., its I who has changed. And now it's nice to meet people who know the present ME. With whom the conversation just flows along with the alcohol, and you don't have to think of what to say next.

But another oldtimer/lifesaver hits town this week. So here's to more beer and finding what we're looking for. Cheers.

Friday, October 23, 2009

Bitching

At my workplace people seem smile too damn much. Especially myself being the youngest by far, I get smiled upon and spoken to like one would to a child. Its like they all have some bloody secret they’re sitting on that they know I don’t know. Feel like socking them in the face. Whatever the consequences they definitely wouldn’t smile no more.

I have a paralegal assisting me with my work. She’s a goddamn moron. To top that she’s pregnant. Which means her week starts on Thursday. She’s bong. Which means her day starts post noon and ends sharp at 7 pm. All of which combine to mean that I am stuck at work till 11 every night managing my work and hers, not because I’m in love with my profession but because my bloated titted-pregnant-fucking paralegal is, I repeat, a goddamn moron.
And she has the gall to refuse to draft a letter for me at 6:45 pm cause her head hurts and she needs to head home.

What else?

Oh my firm has not a single quarter decent chic to look at. Not one. There are one, two.. wait… 11 specimens of the female kind at work. Not one worth even the slightest distraction from the computer screen. Fuck.

I’m fucked.

Good night.

Monday, October 19, 2009

Someday ..



I'll make love to her.


(Its been a while since this space had pictures. Pretty girls make any picture look good ..)

The Office Clerk ..

is a lawyer's truest friend.

Saturday, October 17, 2009

Of Festivities

Empty streets, sound of crackers, buildings draped with tuni bulbs, Theatre Rd. lit up with moving lights on bamboo structures driven by intricate circuitry, the burnt air echoing with repetitive screeches of a mechanical bhootni moving her arms only to be drowned out by evergreen bollywood hits and the city turns into a village mela. And I get a 2 day weekend. woooohooooo!!

Happy Diwali everyone.

Joi Maa Kali.

love.

Thursday, October 15, 2009

Of Gift Stoppers

From the Patent & Trademark Office, Kolkata.

Yesterday the ground floor of the Patent & Trademark Registry at Kolkata saw a new kind of drama. Members of certain law firms had arrived with Diwali gifts for the Trademarks Department of the registry, like they do every year. Except this year the Patents Department was ready and waiting downstairs to encounter them. The Patents people stopped all firms coming in with gifts and seized the same demanding that they too must be given gifts alongside the Trademarks Dept. On certain firm members then claiming the return of their gifts, the Patents people stated that the gifts were not to be returned, instead kept confisticated on the ground floor of the Registry until all the Patent employees recieve gifts from the same firms. The gifts thus were forcibly seized and stored despite tremendous hue and cry from various attorneys present on behalf of various law firms.

It is worthy of note that the entire Patents Dept. had participated in this exercise rendering most visitors to believe that there was some sort of dharna happening at the Registry. Meanwhile all the Trademarks employees were closely observing the proceedings from the balconies of the top floor. This drama continued from 12:30pm till about 5:30pm when it was time for everyone to go home.

Needless to say that no work got done at the entire registry yesterday.

I still love this city. Which reminds me .. "q: yeh itna kyon khaatey hain?!? a: kyonki hum khilaatey hain .." wnndrr!

cheers.

Friday, October 2, 2009

WHEN?!?

Type in When on Google search and the first two most popular searches it throws out are;

when will i get married................................. 41,100,000 results
followed by,
when will i die.............................................. 978,000,000 results

Cracked me up. Couldn't help posting this.

cheers.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

I-league

A correction to an earlier post. I-league starts today October 1st, and not from the 3rd as I'd mentioned earlier. East Bengal's opening encounter is scheduled on the 3rd. Apologies. The first game scheduled for this afternoon is between two of the tournament favourites and in form teams, Mahindra United and Churchill Brothers. Here's to an entertaining season ahead.

Meanwhile East Bengal are likely to go into the tournament without any foreign players, after the sacking of all of the previous 4 due to their dismal performance in the Durand Cup. However, Baichung Bhutia officially signed for the club today and maybe he can turn the fortunes of the club that discovered him in its most troubled season in years.

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Blues for my Job
Oh I wake up in the morning, and I
prepare to get to you.
I don’t wanna wake up daarlin’,
but you know I gotta feed me too.

Oh ever since I met you baby, I’ve been
crying to let you go.
You make everyday a Monday baby,
and Sunday’s too short to know.

Baby why do you treat me like this, why
bore me the way you do.
You got them nagging habits honey,
I got them back breaking blues.
---------------
Yes I'm bored. Yes I'm jobless at work. But just for the record I don't hate my job. I think I just rue the fact that I'm not talented enough to not need one. And absolving the same in view of the overwhelming mediocrity surrounding oneself can't be the answer now, can it?

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Pujo Houseguest

A friend's blog introduced me to an online community of travellers by means of which strangers can seek/lend help to other strangers who share one common passion. Travel.

So I promptly signed up for the same knowing fully well that there's not too many places I can travel to and still keep my job at a law firm, but I can atleast be a host to friends coming in from across the globe. Day before yesterday I got a call from a young guy called Tao Li from Berkeley who needed a couch in Calcutta for a couple of nights. Its Durga Puja time in Calcutta and most hosts have their houses packed with relatives visiting from all parts of the country. I decided to put him up.

Tao Li, at first glance comes across an emaciated white american with a huge head. You wonder what your mum is going to say if you bring someone like him home. But give him time and he starts speaking of his travels over the last one and half years, and his experiences therein, and all of a sudden you're sucked into this meandering world of a 22 year old which keeps floating across different images and cultures and experiences. In the last 16 odd months, Tao has walked across Japan, Korea, Mongolia, China, Vietnam, Laos (did I spell that right??), Thailand, Bali, Malaysia and Indonesia before finding his way to Trichy from where he travelled along the Eastern Ghats up till Bengal. This is where he sought the shelter of my couch. On speaking to Tao you realise the difference in the Hinduism of Bali which is used as more of a tourist attraction and the Hinduism of India which according to him is a way of life. You find out that Europeans staying at Korean Temples are really rude to other guests and that in China no matter what subject you're good at or inclined towards, its the state that dictates what you can pursue in terms of higher studies. He'll tell you how he learnt to fast in Indonesia during Ramadan and how the same has helped him to save costs in respect of food when he's low on cash, and how Mongolians percieve Buddha differently from the way most Chinese do. And all he needs in return for such stories and perspectives is a couple of nights shelter and a fulfilling meal.

Tao left today. While my friends and my parents were extremely sceptical when they heard that I wanted to put up a complete stranger at home, it was my blunt adamance that allowed Tao to stay at my place. Tao by his mere presence won over all of them. My mum loved him and even cooked a special bong meal for him last night. My friends were in awe of his age and his unmatching wisdom and maturity.

I'm glad I put this stranger up at my place. It was a act of faith which was rewarded with belief that the same can be sustained. I've been let down by people I've loved the most and thought I knew really well. But then you find guys like Tao, who bring more to the world than they get. And no matter what you do for such people, it'll always be far less than what they've shared with you.

Tao is headed to Darjeeling today, and then the North East India from there. Then he travels back to Calcutta to take his GRE before setting off to Pakistan, Afghanistan and the Middle East. This is wishing a super hero of our times good luck for his travels and journey. May he find his Ithaca, wherever it may be.

For those who wish to participate in hosting travellers, and in turn be hosted on their travels please sign up here.

Also last but not the least, thank you Rahul Saha for introducing me to Couchsurfing. I had my first houseguest, and am feeling quite blue now that he's gone.

Monday, September 21, 2009

Churchill Brothers clinch Durand Cup 2009

What is it with teams from Bengal and football finals? Last evening 16 time champions Mohunbagan AC lost to 3 time finalists Churchill Brothers after drawing first blood. The final scoreline read 1-3 in favour of Churchill Brothers thus crowning them the Champions of Durand Cup '09. I was languishing at work while the game was on and hence can't really comment on what went wrong. All I know is that being an East Bengal supporter I committed sacrilege by rooting for Mohunbagan simply cause they were a Calcuttan team, and all for nothing!
This is the second tournament this year that football crazy bongs have lost out on in the finals. The last one being the Santosh Trophy loss at the hands of Goa.

I-league starts from 3rd October. Its got a horde of new teams this year, namely Pune FC, Mumbai FC, and the first ever club from the talent filled North East India in the form of Lajong FC of Shillong. Also there are 3 teams from Calcutta that shall feature in the Indian premier division; ie. East Bengal, Mohunbagan and Chirag United. That is something to look forward to especially considereing that it does not end with a final.

Of Fried Notes (Rainwashed City)

Today was another rainsoaked day. Beautiful. I could only spare time for lunch late in the afternoon, and as a result most of the regular roadside stalls I visit to buy my daily lunch had run out of food. All but this one South Indian joint near the Rabindra Sadan Metro Stn.
In return to my 50 bucks the stall owner had 3 wet Rs.10 notes which I refused to accept. He very sweetly asked me to wait a moment in which he finished cooking the Dosa for a waiting customer, scraped it off the tawa and proceeded to put the wet notes on the frying pan and literally fry them like rotis before my very eyes while smiling sheepishly. He did the whole routine including turning the notes over and heating both sides and finally returned them to me crisp and dry.

My first fried currency ever. Calcutta as usual never ceases to amaze.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Of The Rainiest Days in Calcutta

I earned a puntured tyre on a waterlogged EM Bypass, got sprayed in muddy water by passing cars enroute to work, submitted to my mother's demands of carrying an umbrella, sat in office with my socks drying on my chair, stood at the chai-stall singing Simon & Garfunkel with friends getting more drenched by the minute, sat in office dreaming of whiskey and khichuri, stood under sheds with my back to the road and smoked using my body and existing physical structures to prevent the cigarette from getting drenched like myself, and slept well to the sound of the rain.

Today its raining no more. All is back to 'normal'.

I like the rain. When she comes, she roars; and my city streets, they shine rustic ravaged by her touch.

Monday, August 31, 2009

We are the Champions!!



Some atrocious defending saw India lose the advantage of Renedy Singh's splendid goal from a free kick, and drag an otherwise hard fought encounter to penalties onto sudden death. But in the end Baichung & Co. prevailed. In an outfit full of experienced campaigners such as Baichung, Renedy, Surkumar Singh, Mahesh Gawli and in form young guns like Sunil Chettri and Steven Dias, it was Bengal boy Subrata Pal whose intimidating stance and safe hands saved the day in the end for India. The Bengal keeper saved 3 spot kicks to give India their 2nd Nehru Cup in a row with a win over Syria in a packed Ambedkar Stadium at the capital.

A nailbiting finish, and a well deserved victory. As usual I got lucky to catch the highlights.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Only in Calcutta

Last evening amidst the flow of traffic from Park Circus towards Char Number Bridge (Bridge no.4), I saw a Red Alto stop in the middle of the road to let out a man in a shiny black shirt who scampered towards the edge of the road and the pavement, all the while holding his crotch while dodging oncoming autos, and unzipped his pants and took a leak. Right then, right there, right next to a cop who simply shook his head in disapproval/disgust and looked the other way.

I love my city. My hometown.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

oooh oohh, days go by..

It has been a terribly long and hectic one and half weeks for me. Now I suddenly find myself a little blank and in need of a breather. Hence the return to blogosphere.

Despite the long hours at office I did have some minor excitements that the universe chucked my way. Firstly an older friend and mentor turned 40. We had a magician and good scotch whiskey to celebrate his birthday. While I'd like to elaborate on the magic show, hours of typing Form TM 5(s) - for the uninitiated...trust me you don't care enough to want to know - and answering inane client queries have induced a strange weakness in my digits and I shall refrain from indulging in providing further details. Let it suffice that it was a good show, I'd witnessed live magic after quite sometime and while I did not expect Magician Pijus (for your entertainment I am here!!) to really deliver anything out of this world, he did exceed my expectations and provided for a good half an hour/forty minutes of pure entertainment. For those in Calcutta who wish to hire the services of a magician at a reasonable price, you can find Mr. Pijus Bannerjee at 09830111195. He's also a ventroquilist in case you need one.

Besides this the football season has started again. My old favourites in the English Premier League, Arsenal have started well by netting 10 goals in their first 2 matches. This Saturday they face arch rivals Manchester United, who too have regained form after a first match loss to Burnley. It should be an interesting encounter. Pray the days of Patrick Viera and Roy Keane return and the young guns in both the teams shine through in a season that has already been overhyped by record shattering transfers.

India on their part have recovered some of their pride by defeating Sri Lanka convincingly in the ongoing Nehru Cup. I was lucky to be able to catch the highlights of yesterday's encounter against Lanka. It was amazing to see the men-in-blue dominate and crush our neighbours. India has restored some of its chances of making the final, though all is not clear. But the show put up by Baichung & Co. under pressure after their early loss to Lebanon was commendable. Special mention must be made Steven Dias who was unstoppable on the right flank. All residing in Delhi can watch the finals live at the Ambedkar Stadium which is hosting the entire tournament.

I'm still at work. The days are going by really fast, and the weekends even faster. But life is good, and football adds sufficient spice to it. I just wish I had more time to watch every match.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

Revival of the lousy poet

To my oldest friend, TJ Eckleburg who constantly saves me from being completely hunted, no matter how much I might desire it myself. A tea awaits you at Vien. The following is what happens when I get drunk and follow your wishes. You asked for it, bastard guy.


travellers II


with stunted breath we spoke and climed mountains
and held our fears close to our hearts,
we laughed and cried and cried and laughed
every moment making a new start.
failing again, and again to memory; lord bless them
guitar strings that brought us some mirth
when there was none, not here and not in your heart
every moment falling a little apart.


the mountains are climed, the words are spoken
with true love and hate now we paint our world.
i cut, rape, lose, scream, break the glass of your window and sing
to you a million times.
silently.
you hear, you know, you smile sometimes and catch that
cab back to the airport leaving that broken pane,
broken to my world.


where will we try old friend, to meet and curse each other again?
what time of the day would you say then,
that you hate me and i should hate you back?
when will we find another mountain to climb,
when all we are left with is familiarity from another time?
where will you touch me then, would you dare to?
and what would you say, if i wished to slit your throat,
and asked you for one last smile on your way out?




I go back to work tommorrow, the beginning of another week of blissfull numbness. Cheers.


Thursday, August 13, 2009

Guitar God of another kind

Peter Green used his work to play the melancholic blues. Gary Rossington made it groove under the slide. Dicky Betts made the same screach and moan on the top of its mechanical lungs. And Jimmy Page, well what can one say about what Page did? Jimmy Page showed the world what it could really sound like.

Justify Full

It is the Gibson Les Paul.

It was created by a man called Lester William Polfuss, affectionately known to the world of Rock n' Roll as Les Paul. He is credited as the pioneer of the solid body guitar that made Rock n' Roll as we know it possible. I don't understand so much about guitars, but I do understand that we wouldn't have had the sweet sweet melodies created by many a guitar legend, had it not been for his invention.
Instrumentalists in general are said to share a special bond with their instrument. The instrument is like an extention to the musician's own body, or rather his self. Many legends whom I adore, worshipped Senor Les for his contribution towards their art.


The creator and his creation

Lester William Polfuss passed away yesterday of complications from pneumonia, at age 94. This post is a thank you to the musician and guitar technician who inspired many of the greatest guitar players born till date. So thank you Sir, for doing what you did.

RIP.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

The POLE-ITE Girls!

Of late, the evolution of different internet portals such as Youtube has offset a new era in performance arts, wherein performers - particularly unconventional ones - do not just rely upon auditions, agents and nods from giant production corporations to access an audience. Most of them can freely flaunt their talent or lack thereof upon the internet, accessible by millions at a click. One such bunch of people come out with an online mini-series called the ELEVATOR that I enjoy during breaks in my work.

The other, more fascinating, bunch that I came across was the "POLE-ITE GIRLS!". Their most popular video - the one that brought them stardom & a Fox News interview - was shot at the NYC Subway. They claim to be a conglomeration of freelance artists who create videos that bring many kinds of pleasure to the bored and joblessly employed such as myself, and showcase faboulous talent simultaneously. Also its interesting to note the reaction of their impromptu audience, especially the difference between the men and the women. Its safe to say that although their target audience is the entire world, their true fans are predominantly male.

Here's how they choose to describe themselves on their webpage.

THE POLE-ITE GIRLS! is a sexy new web series that integrates dance, music, fashion, & story into a cutting-edge piece of contemporary culture. THE POLE-ITE GIRLS! brings different collaborators and artists into each episode keeping the flavor fresh, fun, & exciting. But underneath the surface, THE POLE-ITE GIRLS! challenge the ideas and standards of our culture by bringing dance into a public space. Subways, streets, & public transit systems all over the world will be their playground & the lucky passengers & passersby will be shocked, entertained, & tantalized by their skills.

I wish I'd met such women during my time in college. Unfortunately I didn't and now all I can do is make up for lost time by drooling at them on Youtube, while I'm actually supposed to be filing some poor bastard's trademark.

On a more serious note, I love these girls and truly dig what they've started. I further believe such endevours should be encouraged.

Hope you, my reader, like it too. Cheers.

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Lines from another world

To my sister,

a sea of stars flood them green fields,
across from a life boat they call shankar's
remembering dylan
i wish i was with you, all tangled up in blue.

first mumbled on
Thursday, February 21, 2008.

Wrapping Paper

In the gutter,
Moving slowly as the wind on the sea,
Faces calling, waves moving
In your picture on a wall of a house of old times.
Can you hear me; Can you hear me
Can you hear me; Wandering sadly?...

-
Jack Bruce & Pete Brown.



I got my wrapping paper. I got my freedom ticket. I wish things were different, but there's no other way they'd let it be. So just let it be. We'll still be free.

A toast to the ones who paid a greater price than I; and another to the ones who left loaded in gold.

Friday, August 7, 2009

Things I do at work

Greed:Medium
Gluttony:Medium
Wrath:High
Sloth:Low
Envy:Low
Lust:High
Pride:Medium



The Seven Deadly Sins Quiz on 4degreez.com

Horny and Pissed Off, thats me....

sheesh

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Of rainwashed Gods and rainsoaked Phlegm

It was pouring in Calcutta this morning. The images of worship - I've seen Jesus, Kali and Shiva on different days - drawn on the pavement at the Woodburn Park Rd.-Forum turning with crude colours by the resident beggar, in order to induce passers-by to donate their loose change, had been washed clean; returning the pavement to being just a pavement. People usually avoided stepping on the images, irrespective of whether they spared any money for the artist or not. This morning the pathway being free of its Gods was stamped upon and used to the fullest by the scampering public on their way to work, school or a morning show at Forum.

Also while on a smoke break, I witnessed a crow nibbling at someone's phlegm/spit floating in a puddle of rainwater with great gusto. It is by far the most disgusting activity I've known any living creature to participate in. The crow didn't seem share my opinion, nor did it pay me any attention while I sat and smoked two feet away from it. It kept at it the entire time in which I finished my cigarette and tea. Nibbling at phlegm soaked in rainwater must be the in thing this season in a crow's world.

Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Of Being a Trade Marks Lawyer

One of my first tasks as an employed individual was to file an application to register a Trade Mark for ITC (Imperial Tobacco Company).

The mark coined was Bali Sandal Chimera. Now, Bali is an exotic Indonesian island, Sandal refers to sandalwood and Chimera is some sort of monster found in Greek mythology. They wished to register the mark as representative of a new line of toilet soap that is yet to be launched. Go figure.

Life, fortunately, is making more sense than work these days.

Cheers.

Sunday, July 19, 2009

If you were my guitar...

Baby, I'd play you all night long. And you'd believe him, cause well Senor Rudy Wallang can play. Further anyone who has heard or witnessed Tipriti Kharbangar will testify that our man can't really be blamed for his desires.

SOULMATE

Saturday, 18th July, 2009; Someplace Else, Kolkata played host to Soulmate - India's premier blues/blues-rock outfit. I was there. I had to be, there was no way I could miss them. I'd heard about them from a close friend in college who's love affair with the band started when he'd first seen them perform at Haze Blues Bar, New Delhi. They had just come out with their first album, Shillong, and were touring to promote the same.

Soulmate - an electric blues quartet from Shillong, comprising Rudy Wallang (vocals, lead guitar), Tipriti Kharbangar (vocals, rhythm guitar), Ferdy Dkhar (bass guitar) and Sam Shullai (drums) - has been India's most popular export to the world of blues music. A little bit of background research on the internet yields that the band has tasted unprecedented international attention of blues aficionados over the last 3 years. This includes regular performances at The Kathmandu International Music Festival, an appearance at the Bealy Street Blues Club in Memphis, Tennesee; and on another occasion sharing the stage with none other than Buddy Guy after finishing as semi-finalists at an Internation Blues Competition in the United States. Last evening they were promoting their second album, Moving On, at Someplace Else.

Last evening I met them for the first time, and as the evening wove itself into the night, I fell deeply and utterly in love. Soulmate, unlike most other Indian bands in their genre, have very strong original material that in itself defines the band sound. They further spice it up with covers done the way they would do it, thereby creating a continuum of sound that is specific to them. And that sound, apart from being distinctive is beautiful, energetic and passionate. Something that captures your imagination and holds it till the band leaves the stage, and also has a lingering aftertaste. All in all a phenomenally talented outfit.
Further like most bands in general, Soulmate exudes a distinct sexuality through their sound and command of the stage. However, unlike most other bands they cannot be classified merely as masculine or feminine. They are distinctively androgynous. This is what makes them special, in a market dominated by intensely commercial artists like Parikrama or niche performers like Indian Ocean and Agni, or headbangers like Bhayanak Maut (the Indian Megadeth).

I say they are androgynous for 2 reasons.

Firstly, despite three quarters of the band being male, it is Tipriti Kharbangar - their lethally gorgeous and extremely talented vocalist - who consciously commands the stage and the attention of the audience for most of the performance. However, the rest of the band plays truant like playboys, with their sounds circling around her voice, pretending to chase and failing to catch up with her until the very end. For example last night, amongst their other stuff, they played an original instrumental that sounded to me akin to a rock ballad. Probably inserted as a break from the blues for the rock-inclined audience. However, towards the end Tipriti lets her vocals rip through the air with Rudy panting up the incline on his guitar, and before you know its the guitar thats reached her voice and taken over as the lead sound. It was awesome! Fucking brilliantly executed.

Tipriti Kharbangar

Also their choice of songs possess a strange underlying sexual ambiguity when watched live. Again for example, their number 'If you were my guitar' written and sung by Rudy Wallang, is basically a man's song rendered on what seemed like a typical Albert King influenced blues sound. Heard on the stereo its a man who would take to it instinctively. However, in the band it is Rudy's voice that is more sedate and charming while Tipriti's is the screech of an angry young woman. Thus when performed live after one's brain has already experienced the intense onslaught of a leopard-skin top clad Tipriti Kharbangar, Rudy's rendition almost sounds like a seductively playful young woman looking to get you a place to sleep. Ms. Kharbangar on the other hand sways from a dark femininity of numbers like 'My cup of tea' to the passionate rebellion of 'I am' that would put most men of our times, including myself, to shame.

Rudy Wallang & Tipriti Kharbangar do the Blues.

Soulmate further possesses a formidable reputation for their blues covers. They stayed true to their roots by playing a jazz version of Joplin's Summertime, more classic and true-to-the-original versions of Stevie Ray Vaughan's 'Pride & Joy', which Rudy dedicated to Tipriti, and BB King's 'Rock Me Baby'. However, highlight of the performance was definitely their cover of Hendrix's 'Straight Ahead'. Honest to God, I have never witnessed such justice being done to the artist by any other live act. I've watched numerous local bands botch up, or do downplayed renditions of the maestro's works. I've also witnessed wild covers of 'Purple Haze' and 'Voodoo Child' by Parikrama. But none of them can match upto the justice Rudy Wallang and Tipriti did to the song. My opinion regarding this maybe slightly prejudiced cause personally I've always felt that Hendrix would sound much more sexy on sultry and accomplished female vocals, than it does through a male voice. Soulmate proved me right to myself. Their cover was really really sexy.
The gig ended with the band satisfying the crowd's cheers for an encore with BB King's 'Blues had a baby, and they named it rock n' roll'.

I was left speechless with feeling by the end of the gig. The power of the performance was not lost on my friends either, who despite not being blues fans were rendered awestruck. One of my friends instinctively responded to Tipriti's vocals by blurting "her voice flies everywhere man". It does and the best part is that it carries you along with it.

A word to my audience. Do yourselves a favour and catch Soulmate next time they are in your town. Its an experience that was worth the wait for me.

Friday, July 17, 2009

Bandh

My life being one big long weekend now, I'd almost forgotten what it was like to be randomly blessed by an extra 24 hours to the weekend. Today, Friday the 17th, most of middle class, a-political Kolkata finds itself pleasurably cosy in their homes looking forward to some nice evening rain, late night movies on television, and an even later waking hour on Saturday morning. The reason, well we're on our first Bandh (strike) since I returned from Hyderabad.

I can see the silent relief and ease in the mannerisms of my parents even as my father lays back and watches the local news channels broadcasting buses being burnt by the Congress in protest of the Communists chasing their MLAs into paddy fields and what not. And my mother shrugging of her usual hurry and taking her time to prepare tomato-r chutney for me whilst refraining from screaming at me to "hurry up and take a bath".
Its a beautiful lazy day, today. And the best part is that we've still got two such beautiful lazy days to follow suit.

My first Bandh in the longest of times, and I'm loving it.


Thursday, July 16, 2009

Becoming an Advocate...

Was one of the biggest challenges I've faced till date. Fortunately for me the curse has been lifted and I have cleared all my repeats. Ergo, moi is a graduate. In other words an Advocate.

Big sigh of relief and lots of alcohol. Peace and love to the world. It already seems like a much better place to be in. Cheers.

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Tobacco Causes Cancer...duh!

Wills Navy Cut packets of 10 is now available with an additional feature. The newness is basically a bold proclamation on the pack that Tobacco Causes Cancer alongside a picture of what seems like a pair of blackened lungs; you can't be sure though.

It makes me wonder if any of the regulations designed to combat the phenomenon of smoking actually takes into consideration the habits and tendencies of addicts. For it is my belief that an addict's mind works quite differently from the clean cut-straight mind.
Eric Clapton was once asked for his opinion on junkies after he himself had spent considerable time in a rehab. His initial response was that he hated them. In fact people like that pissed him off. He wouldn't associate himself too closely with such people. Then he tried heroine. Clapton recalls that in the very first time he tried the drug it became patently clear to him "why these guys would rob, sell their own house and even murder for another hit ". And he became one of them. The point being that people consuming most addictive substances grow immune to the consequences thereof. Its a natural progression into the habit, and it also instills a certain kind of fearlessness in the addict. It is the act of consuming and the physical relief thereafter that is of utmost priority. Death can wait darling, there is always time for another drag.

Which is why, irrespective of whether the price of cigarettes go up or there are scary images being printed on packets, smokers will still smoke. As much as they used to. Maybe they'll shift brands, try milds for a while. But they'll still smoke.
(And just for the record, all forms of tobacco is equally cancer inducing. Mild cigarettes merely have a finer quality of tobacco that render them less harsh on the throat. They are no less or no more a threat to causing cancer than regular cigarettes. So the act of switching brands isn't going to hide anyone from death.)

Also tobacco doesn't cause cancer per se. It may lead to lung/throat/mouth cancer in many people, and it definitely aggravates the same if the person smoking already has cancer. But in the larger majority of people, smoking is a habit that simply reduces one's stamina/lung capacity over the years and nothing more. Thus to say that tobacco causes cancer is technically incorrect, though I get the point they're trying to make.

I guess one argument in favour of creating such warnings would be to deter future smokers, especially teenagers. I'm not sure if this actually works, or doesn't. All I know is that I started smoking at age 18, and I would've still taken that first whiff irrespective of what was printed on the packet. But thats just me.

Saturday, July 4, 2009

Rabindrasangeet in the air...

New development in my school para (locality). At the Loudon St.-AJC Bose Rd. crossing there is an electronic monotone version of Robindrroshongeet playing 24/7. Its like those sounds cars make while they're in reverse. Except its so loud that it feels like the entire goddamn street is in reverse.

I can't figure what brought this on or why this particular junction. Either ways, the aforementioned crossing lends a surreal tinge to the evening for the passers-by.

Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Of Evaluations & Revaluations

As mentioned earlier, I have just spent two weeks writing backlog exams at Nalsar. One would feel that after having spent five years in law school the college would be more kind and eager to help out its students who were left with backlogs at the end of the last semester. Sorry, not Nalsar. Once an ugly bastard, always an ugly bastard is Nalsar.
Despite imprisioning a bunch of young people within a 55 acre confine for 5 years, they still don't relent in their ways when it comes to doing anything for its students.

I say this because of the following.

In Nalsar if you cannot clear a paper in the first attempt, they allow you to write a repeat exam in the same subject. Alongside the option of writing a repeat there is the option of applying for a revaluation. Now registering for a repeat costs Rs.500 per paper, while applying for a reval costs Rs.1000 per paper. There were 9 of us who were still burdened with repeats after our last semester in college, many of whom - myself included - applied for revaluation in papers where we missed out narrowly. Basically by one mark or less. Whilst applying for reval we had asked the Head of Nalsar Examination Department about the date of release of revaluation results. They'd assured us that the same would be out before the repeats commenced. Obviously, since it doesn't make sense to write a repeat in a paper you've already cleared in the revaluation.
We were further asked to also deposit the amount for repeats along with the reval money, cause well they had set last dates for submission of examination fees. They still hadn't released a date for results though. Now we've all paid for the repeat exams as well revaluation in several papers where we've failed to clear by one mark. Remember they had assured us that the revaulation results would be out before we write our repeats.

Fast Forward to today : I leave Nalsar for the final time after having written all my repeats. Everyone else had already left. We had to write all papers, including the ones we had submitted for revaluation, cause well they haven't declared the results yet. We also have no clue as to when our results will be released. Also none of the fees paid to the examination department are refundable, which means all the money paid towards revaluation and repeats are gone irrespective of whether they actually re-evaluate our papers or not. Either ways, as it turned out we might as well have simply written all our repeats since the reval results coming out now deosn't really do us much good. Any good rather.


It was early morning when I was leaving Nalsar along with an old friend, and I guess somewhere deep within I was praying to be hit by some sort of remorse, or feeling of loss at the same. But I realised that the really sad part was that even now, leaving for the final time - I won't come back here, pass or fail - I felt a sense of relief; one that I feel everytime I leave campus. All I feel after spending 5 years here is relief on leaving.

This makes me sad.

Wednesday, June 24, 2009

In the next few hours I'm going to be appearing for my International Trade Law - ITL - repeat exam. Repeat? Well I didn't clear it the first time around. So now I have to, cause time's running out. 

I stayed up most of last night studying and I'm no wiser than I was before I started. But I figured who it is, because of whom I'm so miserable. Adam Smith. The man came up with the concept of absolute advantage and proposed a switch to free trade of mercantile economies. If it wasn't for that one fucker, ITL as we know it wouldn't have existed. I don't like studying ITL.

All is not unwell though, there was a bit of good news from back home. Baichung has been signed by East Bengal for the next season after losing star striker Suniel Chetri to Dempo SC. So yaay! 

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Not Me

I'm a grown man. I am supposed to be responsible; atleast regarding my existence with respect to others. I am supposed to be understanding; atleast of my duties to those I am dependant on. I am supposed to be studying; atleast to clear my papers and get out of college for good.

I am trying. But this is not me. For better or for worse.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Second Home

This week I found myself back in college to pay my remaining dues. I should've known that the lifting of a curse would require further penance on my part. Either ways, I'm here and the place feels strangely empty and vaccuous now that none of my batchmates are around. Its like you walk down the lanes of the University and the certain voices and demeanours that you instinctively learnt to discern in darkness or from a distance, are not there to be found. No matter how long you walk or when. Having spent five long years here myself, I wouldn't wish for any of them to be here anymore. However, watching the life continue in college unperturbed and being in the middle of it, makes me feel strangely out of place. Which is weird considering the fact that I am familiar with the darkest corners, crooks and crannies of this place.

I guess I'll always remember college with the people I've shared it with. Without them, although life goes on, it isn't the same.

Sunday, June 14, 2009

Portrait of the man who killed God


Chapter I : First Rays of the New Rising Sun

In November, 1942; a seventeen year old black girl - Lucille - gave birth to baby Johnny Allen. He was the second physically able child his mother would give birth to. His brother Joseph and sister Pamela were born with physical disabilities and were given up for state care at an early age. His other sister Kathy was born blind and was subsequently given up for adoption.

The boy’s father served in the army and was not around during his early childhood. However, after his release from service he collected his son and changed his name to James Marshall. Thus the boy got his name.

James got a guitar for $5 at age 15, around the time his mum was dying, and started playing. With no formal training he picked up licks and riffs by watching others play or by the ear. At 17 he had his first electric guitar, a gift from his father. This was 1959, and Blues artistes such as Muddy Waters and BB King were all over the radios doing exciting new work with the blues scale on the electric guitar, lending the traditional notes born in the swamps of the Mississipi river or the back-alleys of Chicago, a more refined commercially viable sound. Jimmy Rodgers, who played guitar for an upcoming Muddy Waters, and BB King were the earliest inspirations to young James. He tried playing for local bands, but as it were, his style and manner was ‘too loud’ and he often got himself kicked out at the auditions itself. However, he did play a while in a band called The Velvetones, who did local gigs for free.

It was however in the early 60s - after he joined the army to escape a rap for stealing cars - that James Marshall took to the electric guitar with a sincerity and passion that would lead him to experiment for hours with feedbacks and distortions, his mastery over which eventually created the legend who was just being toilet-trained as of now.

Whilst in the Army, he also became friends with bassist Billy Cox with whom he’d perform random gigs under the name The King Kasuals.

The discharge from the Army came sooner than expected after his commanding officer caught James sleeping with his guitar. So off went The Kings Kasuals, James and buddy Billy, down south to Tennessee where they would scratch out a living by performing gigs with various artists on the infamous Chitlin Circuit. It is here that James learnt to play with his teeth, cause well that’s what most artists did there. It has been said that on the streets of Chitlin everyone had something to show. Something to enchant you with, cause if they didn’t they would starve. It is here that James Marshall learnt the thrill of winning crowds by shocking them with what he could do. Or rather, by what was possible to be done. The highlight of his career here was touring with Little Richard as a back up guitar player. Little Richard was a big influence on a struggling James. He showed him how to be freaky and still woo large audiences. The gigs with Little Richard were the largest ones James had played till date. He would later go on to say that he wanted to do with his guitar, what Richard did with his voice.

Some months later James Marshall was to be found in New York, in Greenwich Village. No one exactly knows what happened. Some say Little Richard fired him, some say he missed the tour bus, and some say he never wanted to get on it in the first place. Either ways James Marshall was spotted in New York in early 1965. It is here that he would be introduced to the works of one of America’s greatest songwriters.

Bob Dylan had just released Highway 61 Revisited. Worst of all, blasphemies of blasphemies, Dylan had gone Electric!

Now this was a big deal back then. Bob Dylan was an American folk hero. He was to herald the Peace Movement to draw the Government out of THE WAR. And now he just stabs everyone in the back, or maybe shows everyone what it was really about, with the opening track of the album - Like a rolling stone - often considered in retrospect to be one of the pivotal works in Rock n’ Roll history.

It was Dylan’s first studio album with a full-fledged electric set and a back-up band. He was “Judas” to some, and “genius” to others. The point being however, that he was the man everyone was talking about, atleast in New York.

James Marshall was completely enamoured by what he heard of Dylan. Also till date James had experimented a lot with his guitar and amplifiers; however, he hadn’t dared to sing. He hadn’t ever considered himself a worthy singer. When he heard Dylan, for the first time he realized that “if this guy can sing, so can I”. Hence James started singing alongside playing the guitar.

Meanwhile across the Atlantic, in good ol’ England, a bunch of British kids from industrial counties such as Manchester, Liverpool and London, had taken to the sound of the Mississipi Delta and had made it their own in ways that would’ve been unimaginable to a traditional blues artist. As a result they were selling records not only in their country, but also in the intellectual East Coast of America. Bands like The Animals, The Rolling Stones, The Yardbirds, John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers, and probably the most significant of them all…Cream; were part of what came to be known as The First British Invasion of America. Immensely popular both at home and abroad, these bands gained a formidable reputation for their live performances, presenting the blues in a manner unheard before. Much like what James was trying to do in America, in vain. Now in New York he found records of people like Eric Clapton and Jeff Beck who were creating sounds with feedbacks and distortions much like himself.

He felt like his ‘real friends were miles away across the ocean’. And he hadn’t even met them.


Chapter II : Bold as Love

Early in 1965 The Animals would split up leaving bass guitarist – Chas Chandler – looking out for new talent to manage. Mr. Chandler was looking for an artist cover an old blues number called ‘Hey Joe’ when he walked into a bar in New York and saw a black left handed guitarist present a dark and serene cover of the same song. On asking he learnt that the guy called himself Jimi. Jimi Hendrix.

Chandler would go on to become Jimi’s manager. He knew that the New York scene wasn’t ready for Hendrix’s guitar work yet. In fact there was no market anywhere in America for the kind of electric blues that Jimi was dishing out.

He offered to take Jimi to England. Get him a band, and cut him a record. Chandler recalls Jimi’s one and only query; “Could you introduce me to Eric Clapton and Jeff Beck?

So in early 1966, after being in New York for less than a year, Jimi Hendrix left for London.

Barely a week in London and Chandler decided to take Jimi to a Cream concert. Chandler, having been part of a high billing act, knew most of the who’s-whos of London’s music underground. Clapton was a personal friend of his, and he was to introduce Jimi at the end of the show. But rarely could anyone, anyone human, ever stick to plans made with Jimi Hendrix.

It is worthy of mention that Cream were regarded as ‘The Royalty of the British blues scene, with lead guitarist Eric Clapton being unofficially referred to as God amongst their fans. Most critics and journalists recall that at Cream shows, the entire hall would shut up if any of the Cream members did so much as even whisper. That was the kind of aura surrounding the band when Jimi came in.

Sometime into the performance, the audience received their first shock of the evening. A tall thin black man got onto stage and asked to jam with Cream. This is something no one had ever done or would do. If you were in England in 1966 and you liked the blues, you were definitely and utterly in awe and devoted to a band called Cream. You don’t comment on Cream, you don’t touch Cream, and hell! you definitely don’t get on their stage uninvited and ask to jam with them.

Fortunately the members of Cream were not as arrogant as they presented themselves to be, and so they agreed to jam. Jimi Hendrix, after having been in London for 5 days, was on stage to jam with the biggest electric blues band in the history of blues.

Jack Bruce would, in a television interview, later wonder as to why ‘I did not kill Jimi when he came onstage, cause he plugged his guitar into my bass amp.

And then came the shock of a lifetime. Jimi blurted out the chords to Killing Floor on his guitar with Clapton struggling to follow. Journalists present at the gig recall Clapton’s hands dropping off his guitar and him standing there for a while before dropping his guitar and walking offstage, leaving an unaware Hendrix still playing onstage.

Chaz Chandler would run backstage to find Clapton struggling to light a cigarette with shaky hands. Clapton’s only reaction was “is he really that good?

People leaving the concert, not knowing Jimi’s name yet, started whispering about a black left handed guitarist from America who had just killed God!

Jimi Hendrix had officially arrived at the scene.

Jimi Hendrix would go on to form The Jimi Hendrix Experience under Chandler’s guidance, with British musicians Noel Redding on bass and Mitch Mitchell on drums. Within 6 months of arriving in London, he was the most sought after and billed live act in England. Not only did he draw large crowds for his gigs, but also caught the imagination of most of his peers. A rock critic noted that, ‘if you been to a Hendrix gig in England, chances are you’d run into someone like Townsend, Jeff Beck or maybe one of the lads from Cream on your way out’. The aristocracy of British music was in love with him.

He was hailed as the fastest rising star on the horizon, and at the 1967 Monterrey Pop Festival his coronation as the most talented live act in the world was complete. The Who and Jimi, both known for their wild and out-of-control live performances were to share the stage together for the first time. Both had a healthy respect for the other and neither wanted to follow the other on stage. The stalemate led to a toss between Jimi and Pete Townsend, the latter won. Thus Jimi was to follow The Who. The Who would go on to deliver one of their trademark outrageous performances.

But Jimi Hendrix was not to be outdone by mere luck. That night Hendrix audaciously became the first artist to cover Like a rolling stone, a song considered so hallowed in the music business that no one had dared to touch it yet. He would then go on to burn his guitar onstage shocking the near 20,000 strong audience.

The power of the same performance would lead Roger Daltrey of The Who to comment “only Jimi could’ve followed The Who that night”.

Later that year, at his last performance in London before returning to America, Jimi would go on to cover Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, the title track from the Beatles album that was released just 2 days before the scheduled gig. Most of the British audience present hadn’t heard the song yet.

Noel Redding remembers being too stunned to walk out on stage when Jimi had informed him of his choice for the opening track of the gig, just minutes before they were due onstage. Further Paul McCartney and George Harrision were present in the audience amongst other British rock glitterati.

They pulled it off much to McCartney’s delight and to the relief of the rest of The Experience.

That year they released their first album Are You Experienced? in UK, and it reached #2 on the UK charts second only to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band by The Beatles.


Chapter III : Electric Ladyland

Jimi Hendrix was found dead at a hotel in London in September, 1970.

Before his death he had returned home to a frenzy of fans and urban legends about him. America had discovered one of its greatest sons by words and reviews heard from across the Atlantic. His arrival was closely anticipated and watched. In the next 3 years he would go on to record two more albums with The Experience before Noel Redding quit the band. Mitch Mitchell stuck on with Hendrix for a few live projects before Hendrix joined forces with his old friend Billy Cox on bass, and drummer Buddy Miles to form The Band of Gypsys. They released Hendrix’s only complete official live LP.

A few months later Jimi was reunited with The Experience in what was to be his last tour with the band.

After his death, multitudes of artists – blues and otherwise – have come and gone working with the effects and chord structures used by Jimi. It was like Jimi Hendrix had taken the language of the blues and come up with his very own dialect. Peers such as Jeff Beck would later comment on the body of music left behind saying, “By the time he (Jimi) was done, it was like there was nothing left to do…He did all that we were trying to achieve, but what he did we never could have done…you know being white and British, it was impossible for me”.

Jack Bruce while commenting on Eric Clapton and Hendrix, once said “when I first saw Eric I said to myself, now here is a master guitar player…but Jimi…now Jimi was more like a force of nature”.

Personally I believe Jimi Hendrix’s music was a chaotic mix of oneself looking at one’s present through the eyes of another culture and somehow trying to align that to one’s own culture within the existing social structures; thereby giving birth to a most potent, self destructive form of madness that was to eventually consume its own source. With Jimi Hendrix, the blues had come a full circle from the backwaters of Mississipi to the shores of the Thames and riches of Europe, only to be thrust back into the hands of a left handed African-American guitar player.

James Marshall Hendrix, RIP.