Dare not speak my name August 30, 2006

This is where I incorporate one of those extremely decisive things in my life, which over the years has angered me to such extremities, which cannot be described in words.

 When I was born, my mother wanted to name me Nandita. Extremely nice name, you cannot make any funny art-form out of it, you can hardly get the spelling wrong and you don’t have to repeat it twice to an unknown person. But destiny had something else to offer me. My father wanted my name to begin with the letter M, since my mother’s name began with the similar letter. Don’t ask me why, I never found out the mystery behind such a choice. Anyway, so here’s the deal. Maitrayee decided as the propah name and nickname (which is a must if you belong to a Bengali family) is Neena. 

This next paragraph is a very important one. It explains the story behind my name. So, doze off or skip the paragraph…  

The story is from one of the Upanishads, which one, my mom doesn’t remember. There was this Sage called Jagyaval. He had two wives – the older one was Katyani and the younger one was Maitrayee. Katyani was more into house-hold work and Maitrayee was into Adhayan (studying various subjects and assisting her husband. One day, Jagyaval realizes he has to perform the Vanyaprastha stage, and so he needs to denounce his material life and go to the forest to attain enlightenment. So, he calls his wives and expresses his desire to divide his resources between them. Herein, Maitrayee says a Sanskrit line which when translated in English means, “What will I do with those material resources, that will not make me Immortal?” She accompanies her husband in his search of enlightenment. And apparently, this particular line had influenced my mother so much, that she had finally come to the lone conclusion that there can be no better name than Maitrayee, for her daughter.

(Obviously, that is another thing to discuss, that my father considered that my name should have been Katyani, because of my love for materialistic things right from childhood. Crying for a balloon in gariahat when I was 3 years old, to asking for a sleek mobile phone , when I am 21…life hasn’t changed much.) 

My mother’s responsibility ended there. But that’s where the nightmare started for me. Right from school, people have developed art-forms which exhibit stupendous nature of innovation. The common one is Maitree, this means friendship, and as I have so painstakingly described the story in the earlier paragraph, that is not my name. Weird ones include Moitro or something. Sometimes they confuse it with Maitreya, which is male name. And when I tell my name to a stranger, the usual responses I get is What – Come again – Excuse me – Pardon me – Once more – huh – please repeat – can you spell it for me..the list is endless 

 Sample this conversation I had in the Election Commission office, when I went for my voter identity card.

 Man: Please write your name in English and Bengali on top of the form.After completing the form, I go to this person  Man: Your name is Mai-tra-eee  Me: No, its Moi-tre-eee  Man: Ya, but the Bengali spelling does not match with the English spelling 

 Me: I pronounce it Moi-tre-ee, but I write Maitrayee. Whats the problem? 

Man: But theres ambiguity, pronounciation does not match with the spelling… 

 Me: In my birth certificate, its spelt Maitrayee, so I guess it should be ok  Man: Maitrayee and Moitreyee is different. You should probably stick to Moitreyee
Me: Well, nothing much can be done now. My birth certificate contains Maitrayee. Now, I am not being paranoid and please, you cannot say that I suffer from obsessive compulsive disorder. But is it a heinous crime to expect that people atleast pronounce your name properly? No, it seems that it is too much to ask. I understand that you have to put a little bit of effort on your tongue, but why can’t people think about the person sitting at the other end of the table? I am always going through an identity crisis, and I become really very tired reminding people a zillion number of times what is the correct pronunciation and the proper spelling. But no, they never seem to follow what I say, or they consciously ignore and continue with their innovation.

 So, the never ending process of name-messing continues… and so does my fruitless methods of enlightening the oblivious mortals.

 

Tea, News and Me. August 24, 2006

Now, the local newspapers in Calcutta are never all that attractive. Its just the same boring old stuff they cover, terrorism, attack on Shahrukh’s bungalow, cola thing etc. But reading the newspaper everyday is a religious activity for me, well at least the headlines, and the business page. I do enjoy reading the sports page, but more often than not it doesn’t have anything worthwhile. 2 out of 4 pages cover Cricket, and the other two cover advertisements. If it is a Monday or a Tuesday, you might get lucky with a report from the UK edition of the Telegraph, but that’s about it. 

But sometimes, the people in Telegraph suddenly assume the identity of Lucifer. Such reports come only once in a while, when I presume, the correspondent attains extremities in terms of sarcasm. But come election time, its time to disappear into thin air.  Or should we say, finger in the ears time. The report in the first page yesterday, was simply marvelous, to say the least. I am sure I will run out of superlatives. Lets just say, it made my morning tea extra bit special. 

Wanted, cream to cure tensionThe Telegraph 23rd August 2006

 Now it can be told with authority that Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee does not need beauty cream.

But what the chief minister needs badly is something the rest of modern-day world has found elusive.

“Please give me something that will ease my tension,” Bhattacharjee told a meeting where he was offered a beauty cream to sample. “I suffer from severe tension.”

The chief minister’s fervent plea was addressed to a group of ayurveds and experts on medicinal plants who had gathered for the inauguration of an ayurveda college.

The dam burst when the former vice-chancellor of Jadavpur University, Ashok Nath Basu, handed him a container of the beauty cream, made by researchers of the varsity. “I don’t know whether our chief minister uses beauty cream. But if he does, I am sure he will love it. It will make him look much more attractive,” Basu said.

But Bhattacharjee shook his head. “Oh, what are you giving me! I don’t need any beauty cream but please give me something which can ease my tension. I suffer terribly because of my tension. Please do something which will be really helpful to me,” he said.

Bhattacharjee said he had discussed the problem with health minister Surjya Kanta Mishra, who is an allopath. “Our health minister has advised me to remain close to greenery and rely more on ayurvedic medicine. I am trying to follow his advice as much as possible.”

Palm Avenue, where the chief minister resides, has some tree-lined stretches. Nandan, once a favourite haunt of the playwright-cum-politician, has greenery. But ever since he became chief minister, Bhattacharjee’s evening visits there have become less frequent.

Bhattacharjee did not specify the cause of his tension, though he has been nursing some headaches like land acquisition and cricket elections.

But then, imagine the plight of a certain Manmohan Singh, who has to deal with Bhattacharjee’s comrade Prakash Karat, Natwar Singh and now Telengana spearhead K. Chandrashekhar Rao!

Now, after reading this report, I also remembered another one of its kind. I consider them these pieces pure gems. And, they just come once in a year. So, as I am extremely jobless, and the situation is pathetic in relation to studies, it would hardly hurt if I include this story as well. 

Bandh Buddha turns deaf ear - Queries on strike strategy fobbed off

Telegraph  29th September 2005.

Sorry, I’m a little hard of hearing… I don’t always catch everything that is said” , chief minister Buddhadeb Bhattacharjee on Wednesday, with a hint of a smile.Eyes twinkling, Bhattacharjee chose to turn a deaf ear to the flurry of questions on how his government planned to foil Thursday’s strike and keep the city in work mode.‘Aami shunte pai ni (I could not hear you),’ said Bhattacharjee, brushing past reporters in the corridors of Writers? Buildings.According to doctors, hearing loss in Calcutta could set in gradually at the age of 50 to 55. The chief minister, 61, is a prime target, as he lives and works in congested and noisy zones, which can affect the auditory nerves in the internal ear. This prevents sound vibrations from being picked up effectively.‘Please write that I could not hear you… All questions cannot be answered,’ Bhattacharjee had added when asked later in the day about his government’s (anti)-strike strategy. But I will attend office tomorrow,’ he slipped in, for good measure.One doesn’t know if Bhattacharjee’s attendance record on Thursday would set at rest the apprehensions of his star guest on Wednesday, N.R. Narayana Murthy.The Infosys chief mentor, after meeting the chief minister, said: “Strikes are worrying… But as long as the government does not support the strike and takes steps to ensure normal running of business, it’s fine.’If Wednesday’s deaf-ear act was any indication, government measures taken to ensure normalcy on Citu strike day would be few and far between.Transport minister and Citu vice-president Subhas Chakraborty confirmed fears of government inertia during the bandh.“I can’t guarantee whether buses will ply. They will ply only if the drivers report for duty. However, those who want to come are free to do so,” said Chakraborty, adding that it was a workers’ strike and they could keep away from work if they chose to.On the eve of the 24-hour strike, the 61-year-old chief minister, however, had managed to deflect some attention from the city’s impending harassment to his so-called hearing impairment. When Metro lobbed the question to doctors, the most common reply was: why not get an audiogram done?“I am not sure how to take the chief minister?s reported hearing impairment, with concern or good-natured disbelief,’ said Shantanu Banerjee, a leading audiologist. ‘But seriously, his could be a case of noise-induced hearing loss, affecting a lot of Calcuttans above 50.’The prescription: use of an advanced hearing aid, either digital or analogue.  *Sigh* some masterpiece there. Please keep it coming Telegraph. You are an asset.

Perfectly Imperfect Populace August 23, 2006

I am probably not a cynic in the truest sense of the word. What category I may use to describe myself, baffles me. Over the years, I have evolved in terms of cynicisms. Such Cynicisms have turned into scorns, scorns have turned into hatred, hatred (suprisingly) has turned me back into tolerance – to a certain degree- and tolerance has led me to appreciate imperfection..well atleast I am learning.

So, it began at the age of 14 when I found everything in shades of grey. The years 1999, 2000. So overwhelmed was I in relation to being scornful and detesting people that I wanted to shut the door and lock myself in a prison. The concept of solitary confinement was endearing. Such traits still exist in small doses in my character. For example, if you ask me, what are those “qualities”  that you detest in people, I could go on writing, probably till eternity. But appreciation regarding human beings’ traits? Seems a tedious task.

Was I obsessed with perfections in people back then? This lands me up in some interesting conclusions. Over the years, since 2003, I have learned about myself. I have learned that, if I conciously and sub-conciously try to forget certain things (which I desperately want to), I can. It is a continuous process, but somehow seems fascinating to uncover how my brain can wipe out the unnecessary garbage. What I do remember is that I wanted people to fit into a certain prototype, a certain company-manufactured sample, some standardised quality-standard. But, I guess you learn the horrors of life. The game doesn’t work that way. You should fit into the standards of the crowd. Expecting the crowd to fit your standards? Immature.

So, from 2003, the artistry of acting, which is an imperative weapon to be sociable, took over. I have learned the rules of the game. No matter how much you detest the person who is talking to you, smile, agree, say words of appreciations, comment on how right that person is…being sociable is important. It seems a waste of time, but you cannot afford to be called a lunatic. To be one amongst the crowd, to be in a group, even though you risk losing your identity, does not matter. Thats the price you should be willing to pay.

Why is it so important to like every other person you meet? Why put on an act of politeness when you possibly do not want to be near 100 yards of close proximity with the particular person? I find it hard to be someone else, it slowly eats away my soul, but surprisingly it is quite easy to implement. The real world baffles me.

 Imperfections us what makes us human.. But does the world at large, appreciate imperfections? Then, why did I not fit in the group? Over the years of feeling guilty about the fact that I wanted people to fit the image, now that was immature! Anyone and everyone wants and decides a prototype for their best friend. If that doesn’t match, you are thrown out. Possibly termed a nut-case.  So, hiding your true self, is important. To fabricate your outlook, its imperative. That is, Perfection. Not many people are blessed with the art of appreciating imperfections in people. Prejudice takes over, such is human instinct.

Dope and Sport – What is cheating really? August 23, 2006

 

See the picture above?

Yes, thats why I live for sport. I don’t remember how many times I jumped onto the sofa when Shevchenko missed that penalty. No, I don’t remember my decibel count at 2 AM in the morning…I just remember the moment.

Isn’t this what sport is all about? Its not about the big guns winning all the time. Its about sheer determination. Sport is about fairy tales. Fairy tales which are real. Which are true. Just like this picture. So real, you can still feel the emotions if you touch it.

So, when doping and sport come together in another one of those headlines – this time its Floyd Landis, I ask, is doping, cheating? The answer is yes. Its cheating. Its about gaining an unfair advantage over your opponent. Doping is as much cheating, as is betting in the Serie A, as in diving in Football, as in brake-testing in Formula 1.

1. Sport works with rules. And keeping within those rules, the players are supposed to play. If you don’t like rules, well, don’t play.

2. Rules can be changed as in  accordance with that particular moment. Theres probably no need to stick by rules, just because they have been there since eternity.

3. Taking drugs is cheating. Using performance enhancing drugs has been banned. No one should be above the rules.

But again when does an advantage become an unfair advantage? [Its important to note, that an average Indian Sports enthusiast doesn't care about drug abuse in sport. I have got these insights from the BBC forum]

‘Cheating is defined as an act of deception, mockery, fraud, imposture or imposition’

And that is exactly what Mr. Floyd Landis has done. Not only is this act of deception, but he has tarnished Tour-De-France – the premier cycling event in this world, the Vuelta does not come this  close. In a 100 years not once the champion has been stripped off his title. Thanks to Floyd Landis, that is a reality now. So, who won the Tour De France? Some would say , Oscar Parreira. But I say, Tour-De-France has lost. From next year on, everytime you see a rider winning stages 16 and 17, you will say, he cheated. Atleast at the back of your mind.

Until we decide to do away with human cyclists and create robotic figures with the same specifications – ala Formula One racers we are stuck with imperfect human beings who all have different physiolgical and mental abilites.

Agree here as well. Formula 1 today is not about the driver anymore. Since the day, the FIA decided to implement Traction Control, its a race only between perfect machineries. Although you still find the human instinct there to cheat. Getting robot cyclists is fair enough idea. Atleast there would be some even-ness in the whole concept of Tour-De-France.

But after all said and done, did you really think at Stage 17 that Floyd Landis was cheating? I wasn’t. I felt it was incredible to come out from that kind of setback and win one of the toughest stages in the competition. And I wish, I never knew that Floyd Landis cheated. I wish I never read the stories, never saw the news and never visited the internet website.

If I could just ask the A. C. Milan fan, did you think they were cheating when they won the Serie A? What are your emotions, do you think the team let you down, do you feel sad, angry, devastated that the performances where undeserved? Or do you prefer to live in that blissful existence, that it just never happened, or you are willing to forget it?   

Doping has badly hit those sports that do not command wholesome viewership, the money involved is not huge and the players are not backed by any financially sound associations. But do you really think that your sport is free of dope?

Shocking is the confession made by Dr. Eufemiano Fuentes, the doctor involved in cycling’s blood-doping scandal, who readily admitted that other sports, such as tennis and football are also involved in doping. Obviously, the International Tennis Federation doesn’t buy this. Although Dr. Fuentes also admits that the soccer and tennis players regularly dope, including players in Real Madrid Football Club.

Apparently, such disclosure had also opened up another news story about Rafael Nadal, when a French newspaper connected him to drug abuse. Eventually the Spanish government denied such allegations completely, saying all such stories were baseless

Dope and Serie A are no strangers to each other. A scandal arose in 1998 about doping in the league, when the Lazio coach said that doping was extensively followed in Serie A. It did bring out some shocking results, most notably Egdar Davids.
At least in cycling or Olympic events, the world governing body catches these sportsmen and women and provides proper punishments for such drug abuse. But I don’t think that in popular sports, where big boys are happily increasing their ticket sales, do anything or care anything about the drug abuse, even though evidence after evidence is piled upon. Isolated incidents in Tennis and Football sometimes crop up about doping incidents, but just because there hasn’t been high profile cases in recent years, it does not guarantee that there is no drug abuse in popular sports.

As such, Sport according to me, cannot be predicted. There is no written script which it follows. And that’s the exact reason why the world is so endearing to us. But when you hear stories such as these, speculations are bound to follow. If such stories start questioning performances in every area of sport, where does that leave us? Are we sure that the heroes we follow, the performances which we marvel at are true and genuine feats by extraordinary beings, and they do not involve cheating?
I guess I am willing to be ignorant and blissful…yeah, whatever it takes to keep the above picture real.

It works! Finally! August 23, 2006

As days pass by I find myself more and more isolated from the world outside. I have managed to recoil myself from eating, I don’t feel hungry anymore – may be because I have to wake up at 4 am in the morning everyday and that has simply decimated my eating habits. Over the past few days, I have done everything I can to take my mind off some studying. Fighting on the internet , spending hour after hours playing games on the computer and also yesterday I managed to do that one good thing I was proud of. There is a big “music system” which is now an urn of the past in my house. Its state is dilapidated; the electric plugs do not seem to work and provides a heavy bit of confusion as to which knobs to turn and which to unturn. Remember those 50’s and 60’s music records, which have been lost in the crowd of CD’s and IPODS? I have tried over the years to get music out of that whole set of amplifier, two gigantic speakers, and that record player and always failed miserably. But yesterday it worked! To a certain, extent so to speak. I finally found that the reason why it never worked was because that the speakers were not connected to the amplifier, and I never turned that last knob in that amplifier (I forgot its name). Yesterday, it was nice, going down the memory lane, listening to those songs which I was familiar with when I was a kid. Although, the sound does not seem to come on the left speaker, but the volume is pretty good and the Teesri Manzil record sounds heavenly. Most of the records are in good condition, the Mohd Rafi and the Guru Dutt Classic, Lata Mangeshkar in Albert Hall. The ones badly hit is Hemant Kumar’s classic hits. It seems that the pieces of record cover have been stuck onto the record itself. Obviously, if I try to get it off, the record will get destroyed. May be a bit of oil might do the trick. We also have the The Good, the Bad and the Ugly Soundtrack, some records of The Venturers, music from the Arabian Nights and there are a lot more instrumental music records as well, which I don’t have any knowledge about. The Kishore Kumar’s greatest hits, NavKetan’s greatest hits are also working fine. I just have to find out why the left speaker is not working.

Dance of the Carpenter Bees II August 23, 2006

Strangely, one day, we finally found out that person who would alleviate us from such misery. Up to that point, all hope had bequeathed me, and I was convinced that one day I would have to leave my beloved house, because certain unwanted visitors had usurped my garden.  Of course at first the man refused to do anything, and said all the people to whom he had shown the bee-hive were petrified to say the least. But then the change of heart (read motivation for money) may have heralded second thoughts to his mind. He just came out of the blue one day, Sunday, and said he would do it by evening. 

Father: Evening? 

The man: Yes sir, evening it must be. In the morning, these bees can see and they will sting anyone who messes with their hive. 

Father had second thoughts. What if they just flee and don’t complete the work? Anyway evening came. And the man kept his word, much to the entire family’s (including me) surprise.

 Father: I want to meet your co-workers. 

The man: Err…They weren’t planning…sort of…to do any meeting as such 

Father: What? I am paying you money; I would like to know who these people are?  How many of you are there? 

Man: Sir, we have worn the necessary plastic garments…we really want to finish the job as quickly as possible.

 So, we all were in veranda, and not to mention me, who is a wimp at these situations. 

Me: Turn off the lights, close the door; we shouldn’t be here, what if they attack us? 

Mom: Shut up will you? 

Now I did manage to close the doors and windows and stuff and persuaded everyone inside. I couldn’t hear anything at first. They were talking amongst each other. After a while there was a hissing noise…like sssshhhhhh….kind of loudly. As if someone was cooking something..Then I saw it; through the translucent glass on the window…there was a flash of light..Fire! They had lit fire to the entire thing…obviously there wasn’t anything else they could do..and the bees started banging on the window..tut, tut, tut..loudly…I heard those people talking excitedly amongst one another. I just opened the door once, and saw the entire hive in flames, disintegrating and falling on the grounds with the bees hovering over it.  Next morning, we heard that some bees had managed to enter neighbours houses, causing them to panic. What could we do? We asked them to close their windows. And they did not. The man said that some of the bees had stung his co-workers and he was under medication. He also said, that the particular tree’s bark tasted sweet to these bees, and so they get attracted, and advised us to cut the tree and replace with another one. The strange thing was that, we never saw the faces of those other 4 men who had done such a life risking job, they just quietly came and did it, and then they left. Without even a word..