I AND MY WORDS

The world has betrayed Syria. Even as the Syrian conflict has entered its third year, the world is silent. While ordinary people like Abdul Karim Hamdan, a refugee from Aleppo, a city still witness to the worst fighting, sings odes to his motherland , the world refuses to even come down to the discussion table and talk about Syria. More than two million Syrians today, Christians, Sunnis, Shias and Alawites, are living the life of refugees in Turkey and Jordan among other places, but we have still failed to solve a crisis, making it worse by the day. The Arab world was swept over by the Arab Spring Fever like all spring fevers do. A rash of people spread across the streets, and the world stared, wondering, as dictator after dictator fell in Tunisia, Egypt and Libya. However, the euphoria was short lived, as several other governments brutally cracked down, pretty much silencing any voice of dissent. Millions of Syrians came out on the street against Bashar-al-Assad in the n...

You there! What you mean to say When you spin around That bowl of clay? Are you looking at me Trying to reach out to me? Sounds do not come my way So just mime it out today What? Are you hungry? Come! let us eat merry Let us enjoy this day today Like there will be no other day Why? Are you scared of something? Is it me? Or a discriminatory feeling? Your silent face haunts me all day While anything I speak pulls no weight Why do you walk away? Am I of no interest to you? Wait! Let me come your way Who knows, what it leads to? Huh! You say it is difficult? So what; it ain't so; Anyway I walked alone a hundred miles Maybe I'll learn from this first step today.

Standing there she was looking at the procession following the leading lady of the new movie that had been released. The people were going berserk, and jostling to spot her, to catch a glimpse of her, as if it were a matter of life or death. She was standing on the footpath across the road that divided her and the other side next to the mall, which was chock-a-bloc of people. Her memory flashed back to the time several years ago, when she was entering the Minolta Theater that stood across the road at the same spot that this mall now was. She was being mobbed. People were falling over each other to see her make a turn, clearly demonstrating a sense of fanaticism not seen since the riots that had happened two years ago. She waved her hand, and men swooned around her posse of security that seemed to be facing the gravest threats of breach. Her beautiful chiffon saree was pink in colour, and flowed like water in the eyes of the fans, as the slight breeze that night played around w...

मेरे महबूब का जनाज़ा आज फ़िर निकला है उन्ही कूचो उन्ही दरवाज़ों से आज फ़िर गुज़रा है वही मातम-ए-ग़म आज फ़िर फिज़ा में है वही रंजिश, वही उदासी आज फ़िर आँखों में है फ़िर उस सीने पे वार आज मेरे दुश्मन का है फ़िर दिल में सिस्कियां आज मेरे हिस्से में हैं मेरे महबूब की किस्मत में  जाने क्या लिखा है के यूँ बारामबार वो बेआबरू हो रहा है  मेरे महबूब का जनाज़ा आज फ़िर निकला है उन्ही कूचो उन्ही दरवाज़ों से आज फ़िर गुज़रा है

It would be unfair if I make an assessment of the city, since my destinations were restricted to the Eastern parts. However, the Eastern part of the city, from the Airport to Ultadanga and Science City, does give one a sense of affairs. The city, despite contrary views, has a thriving economy. In my opinion, the State’s machinery is looking in the wrong direction by asking for a debt waiver from the Centre. There is a lot of business potential in this city. Kolkata has the potential for becoming a growth and investment hub, creating a significant number of direct and indirect jobs. You can see the entrepreneurial spirit at every nook and corner of the city. Be it the man selling SIM cards under an umbrella on the road or the millionaires selling Marwari mithais (distinct from the Bangali mithai ), one can clearly see that the debt against the state’s name (a whopping 93,000 crores), can be serviced easily. What is needed perhaps is a boost to the more than visible entrepreneur...

Who the hell is he? Who the hell on earth really is he? Free at last An ear on his generation Protesting against the pedestal of idolism he created Finding his own voice, writing his own stories Having something to say Writing, singing, thinking That is all he is doing Asking questions not meant for answering That transparent substance Around him Hiding his real you What’s wrong with him today? They are left puzzling Not knowing what who when how why They stood all there, looking him today Searching him today And yet, unchanged stands he Unchanged to they who seek to Change him their way. -           Inspired by Bob Dylan and his story in No Direction Home and the content in it.