po(st) mo(dern) conversations/ or A Play in Progress

13:57 me: hey

13:58 Beats: hello

how are you doing?

me: and u?

Beats: lol..

haha...still the same tina

13:59 yes i am fine..changed my job

me: nice

i mean is it?

Beats: of course not

me: u got fired?

Beats: i wish

no i switched

14:00 so more pay and better profile

but i still have to work so that sucks

me:yes i know

the work thing

unfair

14:01 Beats: very..i want a cottage by the river where i can just write

and then travel to the city to do rap concerts

lol..

me: i just want a river. to jump down.

Beats: you can use mine

14:02 me: so the music is still your demanding bitch, eh?

Beats:

yes it is

music is my life

me: name of a movie?

i think i should be in the movies really

come to think of it

14:03 Beats: well we did make one

charurmatha

me: u r an illiterate

Beats: that is probably true

me: yesyes mann mein koi doubt mat rakhna (do not doubt that)

Beats: rakha hi nahi (did not doubt at all)

14:04 kambakht zamaane ne rakhne hi nahi diya (this devilish world never let me doubt THAT)

me: so how goes with old friends and family?

14:05 Beats: friends- R, A and F they are good

family my mother is fine and my dad is dead

14:06 my brother is in college so you know how that goes

me: thts nice

college... which?

Beats: bhaggu

14:07 :(

me: wht kinda rubbish college is tht

wht hav u done to ur brother

Beats: bhawanipore

don't tell me you don't remember that center of academic excellence

me: all the spoiled brats go there. then again... u DID live in Saltlake ;)

14:08 Beats: see..connecting the dots now

me: yeah i guess

so u shud rap ur way to NY, no?

14:09Beats: naah

my music now is too much about Indian politics

me: o good good

shove it in their ass

14:10 Beats: i got booed off a stage in Mumbai for saying Bombay instead of Mumbai

would you believe that

of course i ran back on! ;)

me: hah

funny

hehe

u got booed

Beats: (an then was dragged back off)

me: so sweet

14:11 with news like these life seems so worth the while :D

Beats: you find me getting my ass handed to me by the audience funny eh?

well i guess i would too

it is rather hilarious now that i look at it more objectively

14:12

me: so i see u've been busy

which is nice

Beats: you mean the music?

14:13 yeah well i had little choice in the matter..music is all i've got..it's all any of us has actually at the end of the day...

me: yeah all of it. ur music. changing jobs. dying fathers.

14:14 Beats: haha now that sounds poetic

you make my life sound half interesting

me: and half romantic

Beats: true

14:15 me: so did your father actually die in the physiological way?

or is it just your anger talking?

14:16 Beats: no he actually died

he got hit by a metro train after he collapsed on the tracks

in park street metro station

me: hmm... thts... a bummer

sorry to hear that

Beatss: yeah thanks

14:17 me: so how u taking it?

Beats: as any estranged son would

with a pinch of salt and a lot of tequila

me: hmm

14:18 o well waddaya know... tequila is a goddamn good drink

Beats: and don't i know it

14:19 there is a reason it is the official estranged son mourning drink

they don't just pick any drink for that you know

it's an honor

long island iced tea was in the reckoning too but lost by a landslide

14:20 me: tht drink gives an immediate headache tho

at least tequila waits till the next day

Beats: yes

14:21 me: hows ur mom and bro taking it?

Beats: mom broke down..

but she is okay now

my brother was very sad and upset at first but he is getting over it

14:22 i am the only one who had no emotional response...big surprise eh?

me: then again u bust politicians ;)

14:23 Beats: not really..my rants in rhyme make no difference

but it's fun

me: anyway if u ever need to talk... about anything I guess... as long as it's nothing smart or intelligent or worldly or academic or intellectual or meaningful... u can gimme a missed call. and i shall call u back

14:24 Beats: that's very sweet

i am reading your blog

do you still write poems

14:25 i used to love your poetry's honesty

me: i guess i don't write

Beats: why not?

you had such a voice

14:26 me: ah well. the voice remained. the words left.

so anyway, u coming to US?

Beats:

not anytime soon

14:27 i am too old to relocate now

me: but u ain't too old to travel my friend

14:28

Beats: yes i know

maybe i'll come down in a couple of years

14:29 me: tht'll be nice. i hope i see u some day. life seems awfully long without the occasional conversations

Beats: i know what you mean

14:30 i really wished you start writing again

i would love to read something by you

14:31 me: re-read this conversation. it went awfully nice! my best work since sometime now ;)

Beats: haha

14:32 well i shall make do with ur blog

it's on my favorites now

me: it's a piece of trash

Beats: so?

me: my whole life is a selection of trash

dig in

14:33 Beats: i love trash..don't knock trash

we are the royalty of trash..so let me revel in my rottenness

14:34 me: wait lemme whip up some leftover for u...

similar symptoms.

My heart palpitates faster. Like really throbbing loudly. Blood rushing to my head and face. My legs, my fingers, begin to tremble. I feel nervous. Sweat crackling in every fiber of my being. At times even a teardrop escapes, silently travels down my cheek...

No, I am not having sex.
Just a really loud, exhausting, heart-wrenching, argument. A bitter fight, rather.

I have realized that having sex, and having a nervous breakdown are really quite the same when analyzed down to the basics. It involves the same physical manifestations. Both can be equally exhilarating or exhausting. Hence, if you are in no mood for one, just imagine you are having the other!

George Costanza's Words of Wisdom

"The most unfair thing about life is the way it ends. I mean life is tough. It takes up a lot of your time. What do you get at the end of it? A death. What's that, a bonus?!?! I think the life cycle is all backwards. You should die first, get that out of the way. Then you go live in an old age home. You get kicked out for being too healthy, go collect your pension, then when you start work, you get a gold watch on your first day. You work 40 years until you're young enough to enjoy your retirement. You drink alcohol, you party & you get ready for high school. You go to primary school, you become a kid, you play, you have no responsibilities. You become a little baby, you go back, you spend your last 9 months floating with luxuries like central heating, spa, room service on tap, then you finish yourself off as an orgasm!! AMEN!!"


ROTFLMAO!!! Now that sounds promising!

3 sure signs of growing up... and I shall keep adding

1. Restraining your words!

2. Giving interviews.

3. Talking about politics!

how it has become

me: Nanny!!!

N: Tina!

me: what u doing up so late

N: Oh, bas bored

me: so how goes

N: aah. Well. It goes medium rare

me: hehe

i am actually getting really old. i get aches and pains on my body these days
N: hahaha. me too

me: sure signs of aging. ki obostha (what have we come to)

N: uff. ki hocche eshob (What the hell is happening!)

me: yeah man...this growing up thing is getting on my nerves :P we better just shake off, and get up... and start running like Forrest Gump

N: YES

lets all just run

this independence day

I think the date was August 15th of this year. My uncle, who is visiting Kolkata after 11 years, called us over for lunch at our ancestral home in Shibpur. The occasion was this: India won the world cup for cricket in 1983. Makes no sense? It will.
So 27 years back, an ardent cricket enthusiast, pledged to god that "hey god! since we all love food, and you must too, I will sacrifice a goat for you if India wins the world cup this time." (no no my uncle doesn't do animal husbandry. so technically it's not the uncle but the poor goat, who understands nothing of cricket, who will make the sacrificing bit, should India win.) We have a familiar term for this kind of "divine" bribing: manat. A Bengali word, also shared in Hindi, hence possibly has a Sranskrit origin.
Anyway, as much as ludicrously funny it had seemed to me by just the act of retrieving back on an ancient promise of a well-chosen-goat-for-lunch made to God for a game of cricket, what's funnier is my uncle's justification. He had very good intentions. Of course, not for the goat. But this is what he thought: his family was going through so many set backs, and had been disease stricken for the last many years that it only made sense that God was furious that the promised sacrifice was never made. And right after India won the world cup, my uncle forgot all about the promised goat, and instead went his merry way. and so did the goat. "there goes my lunch!" thought the mortified god.
"Like it's not enough that a bunch of bangalis had to have "mangshor jhol" (mutton curry) every frigging Sunday afternoon. How cunningly I evaded them so long. And now, all of a sudden here's this fella, who comes from United States! after decades has his heart fixed on my head!," were perhaps the goat's last thoughts before the executioner plunges the blade on its trembling neck. Thus, a poor unsuspecting goat had a new... rather old reason to die. Quite an irony I thought that all of this happened on India's independence day :) Alas a long way to go, yet.

acceptance

So, there remains possibly minimal chance that I should ever get to do something revolutionary, seminal, or remotely significant in the field of literature, such that I might ever have the faintest chance at a manifest destiny - to replay my imagination live in front of 500 people, at least, all those who had received the experimental Nobel/XXXX committee invitation: elegantly embroidered with silver, a white colored card, to attend the event where black tie or evening gown is compulsory dress code. Such a place, time and event, when intuitively you wouldn't consider your khakis or spaghetti tops.
But now that I am embarking the idea of going to Law school, over these carefully woven childish fancies are sprouting wings of flight. I am speckled at the horizon, over-brooding for a future that shall perhaps never come to pass but which I had lived so well, so many times, in a hope filled past.
I indulge myself here. I shall write down my perpetually revising speech, which I will only get to say it once in public: Now. To you.
So shake your booty, and be completely unsolemn and inappropriate. and do me a happy dance. you can wear a hat with a tinker bell, and a wobbly, motley costume. heehaw


"I would be lying if I said that this is unexpected and I am speechless. I have been practicing this speech in my toilet and living this moment since when I was perhaps 10 years old, dreaming what I will say on stage the day I accept the [Nobel/ Pulitzer/ Bookers/ Man Booker/ XXXX] prize. Only today, this moment seems a dream: yet another rehearsal in my toilet. And with all of you sitting here, this could easily be my most embarrassing moment. [laughter and giggle expected].
I cannot get away without thanking a few people.
My mom, I am sure this is her doing. It is because of her constant prayers and utmost confidence that only the best things can happen to me, even during times when nothing went right, that god finally had to give in.
My father, who has made everything possible in my life. Whatever, Whoever, and wherever I am today, it is because of him.
My brother, who has been the constant source of inspiration and motivation, even if he has looked very engaged with video games and x-box. But he had known always to tell me exactly what I needed to hear, when I needed to hear it most.
My aunt, who filled every gap, and every void, and made everyday a little more bearable and a little less cynical. I might have shaved my head had she not been around.
My friend Inam. If it was not for him, poetry would have been missing in my life.
And finally, my husband. The one I love best."

[Applause. A standing ovation wouldn't hurt :P ]



I had a sudden revelation. Perhaps the only reason why I dreamed about receiving this recognition was to be able to acknowledge the presence of some people in my life, who made the difference.

aah well, now I can happily leave the stage.