CR park, though bearing a sense of familiarity to all things 'bangali', feels quite distant like most localities in Delhi. At the market, you have your standard bric-o-brac stores selling all the paraphernalia you associate with Bengali identity, food and dressing. But somehow it disappoints me. It fits your typical local community centre that is the prototype in Delhi. The warmth, the cacophony, the madness that accosts you in any marketplace in Kolkata is just not there. To further compound my disappointment, the boxed-in houses lack a sense of character, not to speak of the non-existent para culture. I know it's unfair for me to compare a beautiful city with a run-of-the-mill neighbourhood. But it has got me thinking how Delhi as a city has shaped the making of this once Bengali refugee colony, stripping it of its soul and leaving it threadbare. I left with a gnawing feeling that its inhabitants were clinging onto a collective identity that just isn't there.

The dust strewn streets rest quietly, as the oppressive heat dissipates into a cool breeze. The dogs run amok across the freshly dewed grass, awakened from their heat-induced slumber. The buildings stand majestic with their glittering lights shining across the grey-blue sky. A lone policeman walks in the shadow of the midnight street lights. Reckless cars zig-zag across the empty streets driven by their need for speed. Driving into the endless summer night, images flash across our tired eyes, music beats in our ears and gusts of wind wash our faces.

Walking bare feet on the perfectly tarred roads, the soles of my feet feel the warm sensation of the ground beneath. I sit on what is the only traffic signpost and sigh to myself. Lonely is the heart of this wayfarer, for whom the journey becomes you.

Have had a far from normal weekend. Relieved and exhausted from my vagabond existence. Now it's time to breathe easy. Shall fight another day.

Longing. Coming home always send me in an emotional tizzy. Patience wears thin as time does its daily motions. I like the now and the forever; never the suspense that waits. I departed not knowing how to carry with me all that i left behind. This time when i return, i don't know whether what i left is what i'll find.

Past few days have been dull. Not that i am doing anything special. Have been in a work-home routine. Since i bought the fridge, i am putting myself under strict control. Not planning to spend more than Rs. 500 for the remaining few days. i might not succeed at being frugal but i know that every rupee saved is gonna make june, the month of homecoming, a sweet celebration. i know that i should live in the 'now' but that's on freeze till june. for now, i shall wait the endless wait.

my father says that he has waited for 34 years to see this change. when i ask him what he means by it. he slips into expletives. nobody around me (including myself) can talk of this change sweeping my home state in rational and polite terms. blood curls, tongues coil, faces cringe and body language stamps of aggression. i wonder why? they say that this change which has come is not simply a change of guard, but a change for the better. el dorado-  more jobs, more matti (read spoils) to be shared and generally more bonhomie. simply irresistible. i know that this mass hysteria generated by the cult personality of 'didi' will die a slow and sudden death. all fads, political and non-political meet the same death. so if TMC really wants to be the alternative to the humdrum of daily politicised lives that CPI(M) symbolises, it will have to work at break-neck speed to produce the 'results' of change. here again i'm a skeptic. but i will not play spoil sport on this historic day. for many millions like my dad hope for a better tomorrow and i do not intend on taking that away from them. 

I have become a soppy blob of mass on the face of this earth, who only worries, cries and sighs. Depressing state of affairs. The force of the universe, help me!!!

Pinoo,

These six months away from you have been a real struggle, emotionally and materially. My circumstances have changed and so have I. Yet the essence remains. Life is that eternal struggle we grapple with, that battle with the self to establish our faith, that journey will no mast above to reclaim. It's inexorable yet ephemeral. There have been moments when i have questioned and agonised over my purpose to be here in the dusty heartland of my country. There have been days when i feel i am just drifting and slipping away into the inescapable motions of time. But each time i introspect i find that this state is a chosen way of being and the best of what can be. This physical distance is just temporal- a stop for us to rest so that we may labour on the path to come. So as we plough our way through all of this, know that we are creating tiny seeds of life that will grow and bear fruit in the fields of hope.

xoxo     

That much awaited space has been created in my room that feels like home. I can spend endless hours in idle pursuit there on my own. With this little hole-in-the-wall, I can plot and plan, escape and unwind, read and write. Its taken a good six months to be claimed but now its there to be lived. My physical universe is aligned to my mental being-contentment as just being.

I bought my first electronic gizmo of much utilitarian value in my life- the 180 litre Godrej refrigerator. And last night when it was finally signed, sealed and delivered at home, i was a bit overwhelmed. The day has finally come when i can 'afford' such comforts. It's been a struggle to organise the money but where there is a will, there is a way. I'm a bit sad that i cannot share this joy in person with my family and closest friends. But life's like that. The small victories are yours alone to enjoy and savour and may be i need to chill on that note.