The Last Ride

“My imaginative prowess will help you to sail through this piece not your logic”

The cosmic racecourse muddled with smog and vehement neon light piercing the meadow strangled my regular thought process and siphoned me into the solitary corridor. In a state of trance, I ambulated on the pavement jutting out from the boundary wall of SSKM not perturbed by the throng of people who jolted among themselves to embark on the right bus. Skewing easily through the commotion my whole sole endeavor was to douse the flame of some of my scintillating memories which I can’t cherish anymore but only lament with feeble hope. Cars speeding down the AJC Bose Flyover, the staircase of Rabindra Sadan waved good-bye to the last couple, cops guarding the cultural hub of the city donned in their blue duty coat with baton under their arm had already started making their move.

The deserted look around craned my loneliness and craving for a character which is nothing but surely an enigma and would remain so for the rest of my life. Why me??? Why me??? Why am I not lucky like the others??? Relentless ….questions. Why am I so dump and incorrigible; there is something called destiny and I was never destined for it; ok; then why did he allow me to taste it for some time and just when I started to take a liking for the same, the surge of all the wrong things took it away from me leaving me at loss. Although I really don’t have any solid reason to feel like an outcast but at times I am left maroon.

It was closing to 9.30 in the night a hearse was pulling in with a survillent fog light atop which showed the corpse its final direction. The road ahead of the hearse was empty but still it was crawling down probably to honor his last wish to show him around the finest state –of-the-art facades. His receding hairline fostered all the wrinkles on his broad temple; he would be somewhere around sixty-five and sported a rugged look with beard like spikes on the final day. Rapped with the quintessential white sheet leaving his feet all cracked on the heels. Two wilted white circular garland resting on his flat chest, the smoke of the Bidi, which the helper sitting next to the driver was smoking was making up for the scented agarbati, which I missed out (Or it was never seen in the first place). Prodigal use of parched paddy was missing; the countenance, which my eyes captured, said that; while breathing out his last breath he was unable to keep it simple, his mind was shuttling between agony and too much of ecstasy. Apparently, it appeared to me that the corpse, which used to be a full fledged man even some time back couldn’t build any relationship on his own apart from whatever was bestowed upon him (and today most of his blood relations’ have alienated themselves; if there is any). He failed to restrict the agony of an outcast from surfacing on his face, which was showcased to the city on his final journey.

Few more hours to go, then like the soul his body will also be set free from all the parochial misery and sufferings. (And I see this to be a very evident point which bought that clandestine smirk on his face which was never that easy to decipher for me). My inquisitive eyes stalked the hearse for some time and scanned the surroundings, which showed no trace of acquaintance in account to the body. No sobbed face around to bid him good-bye for one last time or they have already done so when he was still living his mortal life. Just when the hearse was completely out of my sight, I could realize the ebb of grief plummeting my craving and loneliness.( I am utterly blessed with such lovely parents and have also earned some love and trust from people with whom I don’t share any blood relations’ just with mere ordinary acts).

While screening the posh cars in the parking lot of the Grand Calcutta Club I only wished him, a peaceful pyre coupled with a vivacious and complete life ahead. (Probably I am not lucky like the others but undoubtedly better off than him)

WHITE CLEAVAGE

From time immemorial, we are obsessed with ‘white skin’; no, i am not talking about the ‘yellow skin’, which we have in, copious in this country. It is the ‘white skin’ which compels us to give them majestic treatment no matter what it takes away from us. Barring few isolated characters’ that don’t bother being defiant and see any difference in colours; but the rest always take refuge under the shade of camouflage to hide their unrefined traits. A white recognition has no parallels; the longing at times becomes so relentless that we fail to understand the difference between a harsh white scorn delivered with smirk and a genuine appreciation. At indigenous forums often, we speak with lots of gusto and make tall promises to debunk the myth of ‘white superiority’ but it just takes one such white to make us look dwarf.

I whole heartedly endorse the fact that we are no less than them and should cease bragging for them; but then the omnipotent impact of ‘white skin’ don’t even spare me at times. When I say impact be ready for a lengthy list; their art, music, games, cuisine, fashion, food habit, relationships, family, pattern to show affection, style of business, rejoice, ................................and i leave it over here for you to add some. Blaming only our colonial history for the impacts (good or bad indifferent) would be prejudice because there are instances of borrowing examples from them in order to transit from darkness to light. In Kolkata every alternate day the political protocols are getting stampede under the huge reserve of latent transitional energy; some have already started rating this city among the cosmopolitans. Now i would like to tell you a story where i play the protagonist; yes actually i was getting restless and now its high time to bring in as the prologue is all set to carry a third world country bewilder mouse who is struck between dark and light.

I spotted this unlikely couple facing the white Victoria Memorial Palace busy discussing issues beyond architectural brilliance. She was accompanied by a local boy but later in this anecdote you will see that he is not a localite like me; the only reason behind this odd twosome. I just couldn’t wait to interrupt the local guy; so i almost air dropped with my friend who was on a outing for photography; he being a student of film gave me an articulate pretext to start off with no hesitation; after all now Indian films have got good share in the oversees market thus it is quite evident that they will have some reverence for the budding film makers of this country. They never expected us in the middle of their could be serious conversation; I almost caught the boy gaping at me; it was like bumping into a honeymoon suite having ‘Do not disturb’ tag on the door. The Phirang girl was wearing a deep neck cut blue top through which her weary boobs peeped at me; the valley studded with brown spots, there was no stretch marks like the most home-grown pieces. Both of them denied lending their faces for the digital Cannon, so we clicked them from the back. The girl was quite plum from her butt; it was not a low waist but as she leaned forward a white streak of skin-popped out. While my friend got busy adjusting, the light and the angle i kept ogling at her through trivia discussion; she was from Denmark and was on vacation with her live in NRI boyfriend; remember i told you he was not a localite like me. I voluntarily squatted relinquishing the atop view of the line on her left breast which separated her original skin colour from the tanned. She was on my left and the NRI was on her left; so i, despite being a NRI had a PHIRAG so close to my side. I am not upmarket disco hopper; its not that i don’t want to be one but right now i can’t afford to be one; thus her outrageous outfit should have riveted my eyeballs on the white valley which was scantly covered by a cup shaped black piece of cloth; because a localite like me who can count in hand the number of times he has been to those posh liquor joints where drunk women don’t mind having anonymous sidekick for some time or for that matter for a night.

She was no ordinary girl; she was a Gori and i might not get another chance with someone like her in my entire life or lucky by chance, even if i get will i have an apt alibi like this then? Therefore, instead of capturing those libido enriching live footages, which i could have used for eternal satisfaction later; i concentrated on the discussion, as I wanted the city to witness one of the signs of my transition.

Don’t. I mean to say don’t you dare to call me a impotent; because last time i dragged down my then girlfriend’s Kammez immediately after i was teased by that yellow cleavage and trust me it drove me more excited than the white. Being an integral part of a Bengali character, it had all the fostered and occult characteristics of not so vociferous Bengal; it didn’t flaunt overt desire consciously but found it tough to keep it subdued ; it panted with every touch and like a king who always gives in his best to save the throne during foreign aggression it also took some feeble preventive steps knowing the inevitable to guard the brown crown. At times, procrastination is not that bad it allows you to strengthen you beak for the final dig.

So you want to know what i did with that yellow stuff.....aren’t you a thinking and imanagetive person? Did I here yes? Ok then unleash you imagination.

Often i visit those posh sophisticated malls to bask under the intense white lights, do loads of window-shopping and remain updated with the latest trends and collection but when it comes to do some real buying it has to be one of those stores, which offers true value of my money. So if you are planning for a transition, let me tell that you will have tryst with hollow promises in this path which you are not supposed to ignore but more importantly you need to extract true value and you know how to get that.

Paradox of Promotion

Economic turbulence has wrenched companies across the globe. The aftermaths are widespread like retrenchment, layoff, forced sabbatical, shut down of operations, reduction in salary and the list is not exhausted. There are few significant evidence we come across in the city which clearly endorses the fact that our companies are in bad shape. The hoardings spread all over the city are turning grey; no it’s not a new marketing gimmick, in the last few months number of companies which also includes some titans have surrendered their much coveted sites for breather.

Just sometime back gazing at those creative works while waiting at the signal was an activity which plummeted to our fury for unruly traffic. Some were so imaginative that we expected the same at the next crossing to decode the exact content of it. Now those blank gigantic spaces with contact numbers of the respective ad agencies doesn’t stand out to be apt substitute for those loud and enigmatic characters’. Road shows, promotional events, free passes/coupons, vehicles’ patrolling with advertisement boards all have gone for hibernation. If you notice and observe now you get less leaflets with exiting opportunity to earn more, professional course at a price like never before in any ‘C’ grade institute, loose five kgs in two days or impotency is no more a problem. The corporate picture of branding and promotional activities is getting bleaker day by day but there is a sect of direct sales professionals who are more popular as ‘hawker’ and they are still sticking to their not so sophisticated modes of promotions.

The other day it struck me in the bus. If you are a regular commuter of bus or local train then you must have seen it happening under your nose; he was selling digestive pills and dust (a preparation of multiple ingredients which revitalizes your taste bud). Being a normal sight I did not pay much importance to his performance. He approached me with an unfasten packet and asked me with his gesture to spread my palm and taste his product; I didn’t oblige him and at the blink of an eye he made a move to the passenger at the back. There were quite a number of passengers who were chewing with complete indifference and showed no indication of loving it. The hawker got down at the next stop and his sales figure was a big ZERO; questions like does the man (hawker) have his AOP(Annual operation plan ) in the first place, does he maintain a daily sales report, how does he plan his promotional budget in this awful market situation, does he have any exclusive strategy on board for his target customers inundated my mind in a endeavour to understand how could he manage such a prodigal style of promotion and awareness.

One can’t draw any comprasrism between these two polarized forms of business; but on contemplating on the given situation you would easily end up uttering PARADOX. Isn’t it?