Change

The present blog is renamed and shifted as Hochoat

What I did last summer

Part I
Meet the people

Challenges may treat you and threat you but what if challenges laugh you. The blazing sun was everywhere and the place was quite humid. The Brahmaputra River taking its toll every year but she never saw the excellence brought by a human mind which was excited and passionately nurtured by its travelogue. Through the tea gardens passing New Jalpaiguri junction as I moved to the north east, I was sure; something’s going to happen different. Very different. I was said by a guy of the pantry car that you are about to reach the station in 10 minutes and I could see my destination, IIT Guwahati. It was the summer of 2004 and my first summer training ever. Though an academic training but I was highly interested as there were 50% females selected for the purpose and I was one among the rest 50%. So it was school time again after 2 dull years in a place where there was merely 5% of fairer sex.

As I landed on the platform, I could see two typical Bengali guys and the very sight said me they are with me for the next 28 days. They approached me and one of them said me “Show are you going to IIT?” This guy was good except for the problem that he belongs from the same district me and my ancestors belong, the Midnapore district in the state of West Bengal and thereby pursues a tongue which takes its toll in pronouncing “S” – A typical shoshi babu of Bengal. But he couldn’t perplex me as he said, “I’m Debashesh from Prey-she-den-she”. To rectify you, his name is Debasis and he was from Presidency College, Kolkata. Quite a friendly guy. Isn’t it. And he was really a good pal. He was accompanied by another guy, “Oh My God, Mr. Attitude”. He spoke zero words through the one hour journey as we moved from the station to the campus. What I could notice about him in that short span was, he seemed to be a dancer. The way he walked and his body language may have definitely seduced somebody. The way he relaxed his chin over his spread out palm, and the way he was curling his hair. His whole 5’5’’ structure seemed to be floating on the air and he responding to it lethargically.

The welcome was good, and I met with some of the most interesting characters I’ve met in my life. Let me pen down one by one. Tejinder Singh – A true sardar from Punjab. Now I know I don’t have to speak much about it. I would call him the life of the team. But I also came to know one thing, their long hair stinks. He used to apply almost 150 ml of oil everyday and no water. I mean no bath. Latter on he used to treat guys who would oil his hair and share the irresistible odour. He brought with him 8 baggages. It had everything, everything we needed. Ajay Kumar – Great guy. Basically a highly talented physics major student but I would suggest him to join entertainment industry. Tanned, extremely skinny guy with jokes, pranks and his lovely smile. I loved it. Anirban Bose – Xaviers, Kolkata. That’s how he described himself. There was a similarity between me and Anirban. Both took tuitions from the same teacher at two different cities, at two different times. He was the only to make me feel competitive out there. And his thick moustaches!!!! Awesome. We shared adjacent benches, and he showed how to fall in love with the last bench. We were last benchers. Isfak Hussain – also from Kolkata. He brought a bhujali with him. Not very special….. A bit low the order, when it comes to thoughts, any thoughts. But I would never forget one thing about him. On the second day of the camp he said me, “Are you afraid of girls”…….OMG……. :)) I’ve already told about Debasis Khamrai and with him was Sukanta Bhattacharya from Presidency. Tanmoy was from Burdwan. Introvert and he used to cry inside the PCO booth cabin talking to his girlfriend!!!! Deadly romantic indeed. There was Sanjeeb and Satyanarayan from Orissa. Really good guys. I wish I’ve them here in Kharagpur next year. Satyanarayan is a CS student, another lover of the camp, but he never cried. Thank God. And Sanjeeb – short, tan with a great enthusiasm and interest for mathematics. The unfortunate fact was that just one of the many guys from Assam who attended the camp had fun with us. The rest kept them isolated. They were too bookish and deadly perverted. No regrets infact.

Now let’s come to the point - The fairer sex. Though not even 50% of them were HOTTT!!! But all of them were so gentle and down to earth that I just can’t stop respecting them. There was Navamita from Xaviers, Kolkata – sweet girl. Barnali from Assam – umm she was in love there. That was sweet. And the mother…Papori Sarma…(pronounced as Papori Horma)……Hey ma. How are you!!!! With them there were also Tanima and Niharika from UP and Orissa respectively. I can just visualize them as Indian ladies. May God bless them and they find their true purpose of existence on earth. They hardly spoke to me. We never saw this girl talking or opening her mouth, her name was Kanchan from the host institute, but somewhere she was brilliant. Another brilliant girl was Devi Goswami, a board ranker from Assam and presently in Delhi. She is the one with brain and beauty - really lovely and brilliant. Have you heard about the Charlie’s Angels? So here was also a 3-gal Company and we loved to call them Charlie’s Angels. They were together every time and everywhere (may be not!!!!). They were the smartest, sexiest, hottest and grammatically fittest for the Indian version of the movie. They were Pallavi, a semi pro-TV and movie actress of Assam, Surabhi – tall, smart, highly intelligent gal from Delhi whose BF is a model and the least talented of them was Anindita – from Xaviers, Kolkata. I won’t say much about her. She’s the only girl I "hated" in the camp as she thought herself to be a Bengali beauty queen, her attitude was like that……What a shit. Just a thin hip isn’t enough to make you sexy madam!!!! Doesn’t she understand this?

Though there were many others, but these are the people I loved or hated the most. There were also few more, but they are characters of my story are inspired by them. My story is my fantasy and they are the characters. So you’ll know about them in the next episode.

Coming next in

What I did last summer

is

The Siege of SEX and Statistics.

I

I

The westward turn took right
And I was in south
Is it dawn? Or am I asleep?

The clown shook his head,
And I laughed at the mirror,
Who is the clown?
Who am I?

The oceans took the roadways
And I was driving.
I changed my way,
And the water followed me.

Hallucinations wrote this poem,
And I gave the words.
Compelled to darkness,
Found my way.

The spree of craziness hazed all around
What I found? Is…
This madness is intelligent, So
Started selling passion.

I was bought up in innovation,
Known faces fucked me,
When repelled, Found them
Virgin. Left them.

The heavyweight boss, Found me
Under his desk. Ordered me,
“Give me a blowjob”. Gave him,

But he couldn’t fuck after that.

By:
Sagar Neel De
March 11, 2005
0100 hours

Last of "evolution of sentimental crap"

PAIN

Pain……speaks harder,

Pain……….defines me,

Pain……....defines you,

Pain……….defines us.

Hello readers, frankly speaking I'm too tired of writing about relationships, or something like "just you and me" .....Or what Parikshit would say "evolution of sentimental crap". But the feeling came before his comment.
So presently writing, what I call a "statistical phenomena" . Its about SEX and Statistics. Both this buzz words originated from this head, so I've been fucking it for the last 10 days. So lemme have some fun till I turn 21 on 20th of this month. After that ..... it's yours.
Till then, Goodbye

CAN'T LIVE WITH YOU

CAN’T LIVE WITH YOU

The love you gave me,
Is quite hard to explain,
You've put my soul at ease,
At times.......
Brought me pain.
Unexplained.

Now I think,
There's nothing
Funny about you,
Baby…. But still
Your thoughts make me laugh.

Sometime I do think
We are compatible,
Though when it gets down
Basically we are the same.
I can't live without you baby,
But I think…I can't live with you.

You gave me attitude
When at night,
I’m OUT. Completely out.
But if you try to
Get by me again
Time’s insane.
It’s OUT.

You're my sweet misery,
I hate to admit it.
But you were…..
My everything…Everything.
I can't live without you baby,
But I think I can't live with you.

The love you gave me, Is…
Is like the perfect pain.
You're the one I hate,
The one I love,
But never the one I blame.

Your love was a dream, But
In any stretch of teasing time
You can be a nightmare.
I can't live without you baby,
But I think I can't live with you.


You got on my last nerve,
But now, when you're not here,
I’m getting lonely.

I sit here alone, On these
Dilapidated wires of life
With sleeping pills, And
Time touched together.
But still,
I think…I can't live with you.


Sometime this heart do hope
You too think of me.
Sometime I do wish......
You in my arms,
Just by me.
I pray... I pray
Of this day, But deep……
Hidden
In my heart
I know,
…….
…….
You will go.

Although it’s true, that
For each day
That goes without you,
I may’ve lived on strong.

For I know
My love still lives on.....

At last can't live without you baby,
But I think I can't live with you.
So just let me have,
Floyd’s “The Final Cut”.

Lost......Love……Life
All’s fading behind those hills.
With these handful of pills
I hear a child calling me,
“I’m you, Come here,
Neel I’m you....
Come here…I’m you
We’ll start anew”

By:
Sagar Neel De,
17th February, 2005.
1700 hours.

Don't LOVE me

DON’T LOVE ME

Days have passed till today
Might have thought of you...someday.
Carried by time…until last
When I saw the holy shrine.
It’s the story of mine.
Till date…just of mine.
It was a feeling of mine.
Till date…just of mine.

Roads have gone shallow
I can’t take this.
Seems like I’m getting hollow
I can’t take this.
Don’t STOP, Let these emotions flow
Don’t let those hands to borrow?

Words to say are queuing in row
Not today, maybe I’ll say you tomorrow.
And if time for tomorrow are few
Let me say, "GOD BLESSES YOU".

For only don’t love me
Or I’ll make a graveyard shift,
And if you don’t let me free
Nothing can push me for that drift.

29TH January 2005
0300 hours

To & fro. my friend

From my Friend

I walk and I walk and I walk and I walk

Along the shores of life

In search of the timeless, ageless, endless --

The tired soul searching madly

For that flash of lightning

Which can show the last path amidst absmal darkness.

The inevitable trauma of love chases me still --

The intolerable pangs of caring for love's sake,

While the fruits of all relations, leaving me alone

And so do I move, sleepless, awake,

With the paucity of dreams and ineffable pains

The inextricable sufferings and inestimable agony

Ruining me from inside.

I run from one place to plung into another

Pseudo shelter without the least trace of warmth.

Where do I hide?
All my beliefs seem to be illusions vanishing, before

I realize that they are.

But in the process of searching every corner for a mate of my soul

The chains of bonds continueto inhabit me,

Closer and even close.

And then do I feel that nobody is alone,

While everybody is,

With the thoughts of love and regret

for the long-lost togetherness.

That swarms our memories.

To my Friend

Trust is a fragile thing

Once earned

It affords us tremendous freedom

But once trust is lost

It can be impossible to recover

Of course the truth is

We never know who we can trust.

Those were closest to

Can betray us.

And total strangers

Can come to our rescue.

In the end, most people

Decide to trust themselves.

It really is the simplest way,

To keep themselves from burning.

This is just an attempt to present differently. Hope you'll like it.

The pink scented letter

The pink scented letter

Another rainy day: in that same month of July. For the whole world around her seemed indifferent, but it was different for Jahnavi. She just passed the matriculation and alike any other college gal in Bengal, was confined between her home, college, tuitions and bagful of dreams. Along with dreams to crack JEE, retain topping the class she had a new dream – dream of an adult. But the typical middle class brought up family won’t ever allow this. She knew this fact, and so the tender adult dreams culminated in her sub-consciousness.
It was a typical Sunday afternoon and she was on her way for tuitions. When she was about to reach her coaching class, she saw a guy standing near Baranagar Kali temple. Somehow she felt that she knew this guy. Suddenly amidst a mob of 20 in the class she uttered “yeah I know him”. The silence was broken. The word “him” penetrated ears and pervaded everybody’s mind. Nobody expected this “don’t talk to me TOPPER” to utter such amidst the class. Yes she was physically there but mentally….none other than her knows about it.
Weeks passed by and every Sunday afternoon auspicious. Roads merely occupied, but her mind already preoccupied. The feeling and exchange of silent words shifted from Baranagar Kali temple to the Begbagan bus stop, just next to her home and carried all the way. Somehow her hairs on her yellowish fair skin just straightened with every sight, and this mesmerized the book worm. How come a guy follows a book worm, gal with aunty-like specs, bought by her mother, probably to make her look ugly?
One day after the class, Shankhomala handed a pink scented letter to her and said “Raktim gave me this to hand it over to you”. Raktim! How come that thin-skinny guy gives me such a letter? She had well predicted the topic of the letter. That day Apratim wasn’t there on the bus, nor was he waiting for her outside the tuitions. When she was about to board the bus, Mala said her “Apratim, our soc-cult secretary gave that to Raktim. Tear it and throw it after you read”. Jahnavi breathed an air of relief. But relief from what? Raktim or silence of Apratim. She didn’t read the letter. But her eternal excitement and patience was on test that day. She couldn’t dare to open that on the bus. The scent meant for a woman can’t be shared – she thought. With all sorts of thoughts of an adult, she felt excited and an unexplained pleasure in that pain. And said herself again and again “I’m adult Now”.
She knocked her doors with minimum effort, as if she doesn’t want her presence to be felt by anybody and be just in her thoughts. After all she thought the seed of adulthood was finally sprouting. As she entered, said “mom serve me food, I’m hungry”. She rushed into the bathroom with the letter carefully wrapped in the towel, before anybody smells it. Put on the showers and started reading it. It revealed less of Apratim’s feelings for her and more about himself. Then tore it into bits, and swallowed it with all pain – the safest place after all.
Tuition classes were extended and bunked for meetings near the Baranagar Kali temple. Until one day when her dad caught her. That afternoon she cried with her face buried in the pillow, “I know him. I know he loves me”, and tears rolled to make the pillow wet.

It would have been better if I knew him more – she said to herself and tears rolled down to make the pillow wet. The same rainy day afternoon, indifferent for others but so different for her. Neel would soon be from school and say “mom serve me food, I’m hungry”, so she replaced the pillow and went to the kitchen, so that no-one can guess anything. Soon the door bell banged and Neel entered saying “mom serve me food, I’m hungry”.
Apratim leaves for office early at 9 and returns at 10 at the night. He’s a big-shot manager at ITC, leaving me alone in our paternal home at Alipur. He loves me with his jewelry, sarees, salary, weekend dinner or official parties and what he says “Our child, our only son”. All would end up with love making at night. I know he feels my boredom and so drops me to plazas. But still I miss something. After all I can’t expect anything more of him. He’s busy but still takes out time for me, but only at night.
The nine pm soaps are over now and here he rings. He would handover his briefcase as usual and asks “Is Neel asleep?” And after the obvious reply “yes”, drags me close to him. I would untie his tie and say “you fresh up. Have a bath, then”. This is a regular routine with minor variations. When every thing’s up, it’s bedtime affairs.
Every time I enter the bedroom at night it growl at me saying

“Every house has a door,
This leads to a room, the bedroom.
Every bedroom has a bed,
And in every bed there’s a man and a woman.
Every night on it ends up with
Pain and agony of a woman
And pleasures of a man.
This is a gift to met,
This is a curse to me,
And this is my life”

He’s already there, staring at me, as if to pounce on me with love. Bastard!!! And there he goes. With his lovely cute smile, he pulled me towards him, and I replied with a smile-let me first close the door. I don’t know how I smiled, but I did. As I closed the door, switch on the red night lamp, he takes out a box of chocolates. Drags me again, put a piece on my mouth and start sharing it right from my mouth – and it goes.
But I suddenly asked him “Is the Baranagar Kali Temple still there?” He lifted his face from my breasts, looking straight on my eyes, said “why, what’s so special about Baranagar Kali Temple”. His tone was mocking me. And I said “No, nothing, just like that”.


DISCLAIMER: All characters are fictious, and any resemblance to actual events is entirely coincidental.