I Still Remember.....

I still rekindle....

Those sunshine days...
Those kite flying golden afternoons holding my loosing pants by one hand......
That floating in the river catching the tails of our mammals...
That coming back home after a hour long dip,
in the river with reddish eyes and swollen fingertips...
That playing with sand on its bank till it becomes dark.....
That waste-paper made football game on holidays....
That my lil red favourite shirt of the first school days....
That dark corner of the stable which once made me feel my own hiding place...
That first experience of smoking puffing in a straw...
That chanting tune of RAMAYANA at 9....
That backache after watching my first movie in hall sitting in the first row...
That rainy days with fishing net on shoulder fo catching fish....

Now I wish to have a Time Machine....

Countdown

if u ask...
i will come back..
like a nine years old boy..
to return back to u.

if u ask..
dont sleep in night..
i`ll finish counting stars..
sitting amidst the dew drops n mist..

n then if u tell..
u just made a mistake ...
by making me waiting..
u wont come...

i`ll again start waiting..
for ur returning...

Another recession.....!!!

Nowadays there is a hue and cry on recession.

In my dictionary it is a new word. I never heard about it couple of months before. And then suddenly I became so aware about it and its scary wrinkled face. Now I think I can claim expertise on this as I know why US goes into recession, why there is only 5% property booked in Burj-Al-Khalifa, why Germans are shouting when their government bails out the sinking Greece,why the European banks are kneeling,will it be Icelands turn now etc etc. I can also put worthy comment on property Bubble burst and believe me its scary; not at all like childhood colorful soap bubble burst. I know that we can pump water into a tub I never heard that money can also be pumped into economy and that also pump,pump and pump to a leaky bucket. Cool new learning for me indeed.

I silently praise the warriors who pacifies me saying "Dont worry...Things will be okay...I have seen how many IT guys loose jobs on DOT.COM burst". Man, seems this burst is more scarier than the tyre bursts in US Highway 50 or the hill-way towards Ladakh with no spare tyre..!! I like those warriors face expression when they take so pleasure to relate various stories related to the DOT.COM burst time. Sometimes I think IT guys love to get worried and tensed. But thinking and real life scenario might be different, so I follow the experts advice - "Sit tight wherever you are...keep ticking 12 hours without and chaos in office and if needed buy some Fevicol to apply on your office chair". As I told, I admire my warriors and thus I follow their golden suggestions. After all I am new in recession.

But I think, some other form of recessions starts longgg....long before the 'US/Dubai property market' or 'European banks' or 'Greece economy' fails.That is recession in humanity.
In public transport while getting in we elbow some spectacled aged guy to grab a seat meant for elders or more needy person and pretend to sleep. We rush while driving cutting in and out of lane. That's different matter that whom I overtook sometimes stops next to my lane at a RED light. We shamelessly show some other persons work as mine in office to please my blind boss and take a nap after lunch when working-from-home keeping the messenger status as 'VERY BUSY'. We don't care the stupid pedestrians at ZEBRA crossing and why should we when we are riding in BMW and he is crossing the road with a shabby bag full of vegetables. We don't bother if you catch us kissing at the back alley and why should we when you might also did the same when you were young. We are quick to press the lift button if we see others are coming, after all it is kinda subtle pride we feel that we will reach my floor faster than you. We don't care any more to know why my next-door neighbours son crying or why the ambulance came late night to our small society. In fact there if no point of knowing when we barely know any of my neighbours. What we know nowadays is only the "I and we" and yes of course the "You" provided that "You" is either my girlfriend or my BOSS.

Clearly the other form of recession started long before but till now I didn't find any warriors whom I can praise or any government who can pump,pump and pump humanity.

I am still searching and I doubt I will find ever as I know the numbers of the warriors are very less and the hole in the leaky bucket is pretty big.

TEA-SHIRT

So Hasim,U again made ur shirt a tea shirt..!!"-remarked one of my colleague.

Its consequtively the 3rd day I spilled tea on my shirt in office.I dont know why such things is happening to me.But today the reason was quite reasonable,I just miscalculated the distance of my lips from the tea cup.I was thinking something while watching some SP on my monitor.And like a moody professional was trying to sipping without the knowledge where i am sipping.I got aware about the fact from my another collegue who used to sit in front of me-"Hey ....Hey Hasim..Wat r u doing man...?..Why r u poring tea on your shirt...??"..Yah...till that time..The mishap happened.

I got some suggestions on this incident from someones.The gist of those is:-
"Think,don`t drink,And if drinking,then don`t think...!!"

The lil boy with a bigggg box.....

I had a red shirt...a pair of small black shoes...

We had a favourite rhyme also which I used to recite whenever any new guests come into our house....That goes on like this ...." Red shirt black shorts/school uniform/black shoes white shocks....." I forgot the remaining line....

I had a biiiig box (having my name written on it)in compare to my age that time which I used to carry tiredly while coming back from my kindergarden....

I feel so tired while coming back from school that I used to set target while walking to cross and thinking in my mind so much distance to cross...so much distance is left to reach my home....

Setting target,I learnt in my childhood.....
After reaching this age....Am I loosing target.....

Yah...Thats very true,that sometimes yours childhood wakes you up....Cherish you...Revived you with a soothing mind...

The Idiot

Asifbhai told me the story....Dont ask me who he is ? what is he doing...etc.,because in this blog entry I just want to share this superb story.
The story goes on like this...

Once upon a time there was bigg dynasty and the king was also bigggg.He had a big palace.And a big parliament where he had the masters of all field whom he choosed through various tough tests.He had renowed poet,elite harpooon thrower,tickling joker ...almost all masters from each profession were there in his court.And as the recognisation of their mastery in their respective fields,the king used to give a gold plated stick on which he had his own stamp.But here is a catch...If anyday any superior in any field came then the king is supposed to appoint the superior one and the unlucky courtier is supposed to handover the stick.

And then one day the idiot came..he was an utmost idiot...people could not but say him an idiot in every chances to talk with him....So he thought one day as the King did not have any idiot in his court,he could have take a chance!!!

So he went there and proposed the king to appoint him as one of the courtiers.The king thought-"Yah thats also true that I dint have any great idiot in my court".So he called a meeting,all courtiers came and finally the king agreed to take a test of that idiot and selected him seeing how much dumbo he is!!!.


Years passed by....one day our king got veryyyyy ill.All courtiers,per cortsey went to meet the king as his last day is nearby.The king was veryyy ill.What was the illness...?? I dont know.

Anyway,people asked that idiot whether he went to visit the king.He at first got very strange what is the need to go to see the king!!! And then he finally went.."My majesty,How are you?"
"I am fine,how are you"
"Good..My majesty...they are telling you are going to leave us...Why are you leaving us?"
"Because it was not my ultimate home...I need to go to my own home"
"Ooo..so you are going to your home...When will you come back?"
"I am not to come back again my child...thats my eternaaaal home,I`ll stay there forever"
"I see..So you must have made much bigger palace there as you are to stay there forever?"
"Dear,there is no palace."
"Okok..then you must have sent all of your money there...?"
"Nope"
"Then atleast all servants and maids you have already sent there as they are to make that place ready for you...is it My majesty?"
The king tolerated a lot.." You are a biggg idiot..!!!"
But here our idiot was really puzzled,he fumbled.."My majesty...Please take back my stick...in this world for staying only 60-70 years you made four palaces..you conquered so manyy battles...you have tons of gold and diamond...crores of servants and maids....But where you are saying you going to stay forever...You dint made a single palace...dint send a single servant or dint saved a single diamond...!!!My majest you are much more idiot than me...Please take back this stick"

Notes on Uniqueness....!!

Whether it is a people or a race or a country, we should never forget our uniqueness, cultures and roots.

You may feel that she looks stunning in the high colar black jacket but you never realized that others like your simplicity; your's simple looks.You starts mimicking the american tone while speaking and while humming a Lady Gaga song you pick wrong notes but you never realized when you chants the ghazal, you mesmerise the passers-by. You thought to get success in business by copying some well known and popular product to realize later that your business is far behind to the business you copied.And the reason is that he has started long before you started and he knew that someday somebody wil copy him and then how can he come out with better product. Everybody in this world is unique. You better goom and nurture those unique qualities for a better acceptance

In South east asia and middle east there is a surge of Bollywood movies. The same bollywood movies which used to be called as dumb dancing-around-the-tree movies by the west. There is an increase influx of western actors in bollywood movies too.The reason is bollywood has a huge market outside India. It is good to see that Bollywood retains its flavor blodly stating that "love it or hate it, this is it"; and yes its presence is increasing in multifold than earlier. In many countries you can easily hear a popular bollywood song and in big cities you can find a "Bollywood Dance" class.Earlier time kathakali is coined as a ghost-dance for its unique appearance of the dancers and rapid eye movement and now it is a world known dance.Similarly when somebody talks about Bihu you propmtly asks him back -are you from Assam? With nominal dance steps and stereotype tune bhangra is another name for Punjab.Abroad while in Chinese new year, the cebration is incomplete without dragon dance; Deepavali is incomplete without lamps and colurs;halloween is incomplete without weird,fearful attrires.I believe there is not a single big city in this world where you will not be able to find an Indian Restaurant. And they are successfull too just by showcasing their countries delicacies.At the same time I wonder how many Indians became successfull opening up an western food giant!! It is all about the roots or the cultures of the country or states when it it comes about identity. You forget it, others forget you.

I am not so blunt to say that mimicing is wrong. Following others might be good sometimes but never always. If you can adopt good things from others keeping your own stucture intact, it is good. Any revolutionary product, the nobel prize always followed by a great idea or unique idea which is original.

After all - “Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.”

Desi Bhai ( Brother from my Country)....!!!

Desi bhai (BanglaDESI Brother). I looked back over my shoulders hearing that in bengali. It was a bangla speaking, mid 40 guy with a shabby looks.

I was in Changi Airport to receive my lecturer.
"Do you have some loose coins, I need to call my agent here"
I did not have loose coins, so I let him use my cell. He took out some half torned paper where he has the number and started calling. I went a bit further to allow privacy.

"Ki boltase bujhtasi na. Apni dahen akbar(Dont know what is he saying.You please try once)" - he said with desparation.Somebody rightly said that in anger, love or emotion people starts talking their own language or in proper tone. I could clearly felt that this guy is from Shillete of Bangladesh (A state of Bangladesh)

I tried to call the number and heard that somebody is talking in chineese on other side.Clearly some wrong number.
-"You might have noted some wrong number".I told the guy.

-"Aita kothai hobe, ektu bolte paren ( Can you tell, where will be the place)"?. He again took out some oily paper with an address nearby to Kranji. Might be some dormitory.

I felt annoyed.What a pain? Anybody can recognise me as a Bengali from my looks..!! I cursed my looks.
I can see that my lecturer is also coming. I directed him towards the taxi que and asked him to show the paper to the driver.

Me and my lecturer was about board the cab.Suddenly the fellow come from backside."Brother, you gave me your cell to use".He is holding a 10 SGD note in his hand.
-"No, no its okay. And after all the calls do not cost 10 $ at all.Keep it"

Now my lecturer suddenly became enthuastic hearing somebody from his place and talking in his mother-tounge....!! I hold my head. I know when two first comers meet in a foreign place what happens.

Well,their long discussions ended after a gracious lunch offered my lecturer. I knew that the bengali guy has got a lucrative offer to work as a plumber with basic salary as 700 SGD with extra overtime...!! He is very excited that he can do so much overtime and send quite a lot of money back to his home where he left his wife and two kids.

I almost forgot that incident until I felt the need to adjust the height of my ceiling fan. I called the electrician.I became amazed seeing my friend once again.
-"Bhaijan chinte paren? Kemon asen?( Brother, can you remember me? How are you?"

-"yes, of course. What a surprise!! You as a electrician!! As I remember you came as a plumber,right?"

-"Yes, nowdays not so much work of plumber.I saved some money and that finished in that bad time. And I changed agent once again and this time made my job as a electrician. In this atleast I will have some work from time to time."

"Why dont you go back?" - I asked when I knew that whenever he changes a agent he need to pay around 2000 $. "After all in this way you can not save money. And Singapore job market is not good. And dont mind, dont you think that you can not earn 700 $ in your country?"

Many foreign workers come here with the dream that they can earn a lot. And for that they sell their lands, mortgage their house to collect money for the agent. And they understand the reality just after reaching here. They wish so much to go back but they can not accept the fact that they will go back with empty hand whereas they have their house morgaged, their land also gone.They continue more time in dormitory which is over-packed by some more dreamers.They got work sometime and sometime just do any odd works like packing-unpacking goods in supermarket. People hate them, nobody wants to sit beside them in MRT or buses. Ladies avoid them as they used to glare them.

The other weekend I was helping my Malay friend to shift his house and oh my....The same bengali guy is here with a gang. He saw me and friends.
-"Apanar malay dost o ase naki?(you have malay friends too?)"- He asked jokingly while moving the refrigerator inside the kitchen.I knew from him that now he is doing this 'movers-job' as a part-time hiring the truck from his boss.

-"Do you have driving licence to drive?"- I asked.
-" Apni ki bhaben je apnar sudhu malay dost ase?( Don you think you only have malay friends"). He replied with loud bang on his chinese friend back - "Lim is our driver". Poor Lim did not understand why he got such a bang. BUt I understood that my friend is quite popular among his friends.

He will never take the mover's charge when he knew that the guy is my friend. "You gave me a lot of extra when I went to repair your ceiling fan. And yours friend is my friend too"- He insistingly said. I signalled my friend that no benifit of forcing to give them money. So we offered then a good dinner donwstairs.

It is really strange that a person can laugh so heartily without any tension when he is earning from hand-to-mouth. It is stranger to show such a gratefulness to some stranger who is incidentally his friend's friend. And who is his friend?- Who helped him by lettling him call two time to some local number!!

I did not see that guy after that.
Neither I saw him in the crouds in front of Mustafa(24 hours popular store in Singapore) who are buying some mobile burgain and getting one free goodie bag nor in the small mini-vans carrying the exacly same tired looking workers who are dozzing in slumber to their dormitory.

Nowdays if I saw that some "Desi Bhai" sitting alone in a jampacked bus,I accompany him. After all I can not change my looks and in emotion I also speak up in bengali. Let others think whatever they want.

I know where the Borolene Is.....

He just came back from school. Saraf. He has a good name though - Sk. Sarfaraz Khan. But apart from his teachers nobody knows him in that name. All call him Saru, Haraf, Raf and a lot. Some names are distorted to make fun of him, and some are to adore him. He is adorable. A little kid of six. Very energetic. Not so talkative but like a sponge. Wants to soak all what he see what he hear. Most of the time unmindful.

 - “Just now you are back, and where are you going again...?.Wait, wait..At Least open the shirt and wear your half sweater.  Ya Allah...Don’t ever listen to me...”. Lamented his mother while breaking the pulses. Mostly Saraf is very interested to see his mom breaking pulse. It is very primitive way of taking out the black skins from the golden pulses. Two round-shaped heavy stones are put together, on top of each other, with a stick as the axis. Pour the pulse inside and rotate the upper stone mildly. You have to be careful. If you rotate more, the pulse will be broken.

 -”Grrrrrr.....rrrrrrrr”. His mother starts rotating the crasher after pouring in two fist of pulses

 Their is a poor family. They can not afford to get the pulses done from the mill. Yes, I can say it a poor family.Having six kids and no fixed income, of course its poor. Its just because the education is free from government, all kids got more or less education. Saraf’s mom wake up before Fajr prayer.And quickly sleeps too. Once her Isha prayer is done she start requesting all siblings to have dinner as she feel so sleepy after the whole day's hard work. All the siblings take their food and eat together. I think it is a good rule. All will be present and if there is any important announcement to make;Saraf’s father will make that.

 Saraf picked up the dirty sack and a small iron rod from their penthouse and rushed towards the dokhin-math.( Fields towards the south side of the village. Dokhin means South ). He likes this weather. He likes this time;just after coming back from school at afternoon. It was a winter afternoon and the fields starts getting empty after the farmer took away the paddy. But where is he going with the ragged sack and the rod? To rob somebody hitting by that bar?

 He took the canal road.At british time, government digged this canal starting from Durgapur for irrigation purpose. Saraf don’t know where it ends. He tried cycling to find out once but could not. How far a kid can go by cycling and that also half -pedalling ( The kids or a person who are not tall enough and their leg can not reach to the pedal they hold the sit, hangs on one side of the cycle and paddle it through the triangle frame. That is called half-pedal ).  The road is dusty and bullock cart are coming in a convoy. All carts are coming back from field with heaps of golden paddy.He does not like the dust in winter. It makes his legs and hands so dull and itchy. And the skin becomes so rough that he can write his name on his dull hand using his own nail!

 He crossed the narrow bridge on the canal towards the dakhin-math carefully. This bridge is almost broken and very dangerous in rainy season when Durgapur barrage drains more water. Saraf feel very frightened to cross it that time;it becomes slippery and the railing is also broken in most of the places. The water fall from very high sluice gate; roaring sound of falling water can be heard from far also and it creates a mist which sometimes makes the crossing more tricky due to invisibility. Thankfully it is winter and the flow of water is very less.

 He lets the sole farmer carrying big heaps of healthy stalk of paddy on their head on the bridge leaning against the sole railing which is unbroken.The sun is getting more gentle now; more or less like a tomato - top portion is not so ripe - yellowish and down is fully ripe - red. Quite hazy late afternoon;it is hazy due to the paddy thrashing all over the village. Quite eventful time for a small village where main earning is cultivation.

 Saraf reached almost to his destination. Most of the fields are empty. Only a few, mostly owned by not so rich people, are having crops still. Because they do not have enough money or manpower to cut the paddy. Saraf walked though the residue straw after the paddy is cut very carefully. Those straw are very sharp and you may bleed if you stomp on them unknowingly. He found a hole at the corner of the field, hidden almost in the aal ( Aal is the divider between two fields. Through AAL you can go deep inside the paddy fields without going inside the field).

 - “Got it. It should must have something inside”. Saraf whispers to himself and starts digging it furiously with his small iron bar.

 It is actually a rice-field rat’s burrow. In  this winter time the rat cuts the paddy in the burrow and store it. The tribal laborer who migrate to their village love to catch these rats. They eat those burning in fire. The tribal males play the flute while the women cooks. The rats do their stealing business at night and dusk. Saraf is not doing bad. He is just stealing the thieves; that’s it.

 - “Man, it should must have more that 2 kg, the burrow is so long”. Saraf kept digging and then finally he reached the end.

 He was smiling, beaming from ear to ear.If somebody see him now, they will must misunderstand that Saraf might have got some buried gold or some hidden treasure after the big digging work. Saraf poured all the paddy is his sack.

 It started becoming dark now.Magrib Azan can be heard from the sole mosque of the village. Saraf is walking faster. He will have to reach the village and sell his stock and then return back home before his father come back.

 When he reached home, he peeped from the back door of the house and stand still for some time to hear inside home. All the ladies are gossiping inside and seems the nearby aunty came. His mom is sipping tea with the aunty. It the tradition of the village to offer tea and fried rice if any guests come in home. He felt relief as his father still did not come.

 -”Ma, see what I bought for you”. Saraf took out the bunch of betel-nut leaves he bought from the money he earned selling his stock. He also bought two post-card pictures of his favourite player and 10 candies.

 -”Where did you get money?.. Hmm, Again you went to paddy field” . His mother felt soft inside seeing his son’s choice; betel-nut leaves. She is a nice kid and always wants her attention and affection. This kid is her last one among the six offspring and due to the work-load of such a huge family she don't get enough time to treat him well.
-”Go and wash your legs and hands quickly, your father may come anytime”. She hurried Saraf and started gossiping again with the aunty.

 -”What happened to your hand? Seems you got burnt”. She asked her.
-”Oh my poor memory!. I forgot that. I came to your home to ask for some borolene. Today while frying curry, the hot oils spills”. The aunty pat on her forehead to shake out her forgetfulness.
-”So sad, we don’t have borolene anymore. Two days before it finished. You know,its winter time and kids apply it on their dry skin”.Saraf mother made some excuse.

 The borolene is a kind of age-old ointment. You can apply it on burn, on cut,on pimple, on dry skin. It can be used on so many purposes. Most of the rich family in village will must have it and a poor family like Saraf’s one will have it as a luxury.

 -”No ma, I know it is there in the black drawer.”Saraf replied while putting the candies aside color-by-color.Three green, two red, three purple and one yellow. The red one he already ate one way back home.

 -“That one in the drawer finished Saraf.”.His mom tried to save her face desparetely from the aunty. Actually,she don't intend to give away that borolene to that aunty.She knows,with the meagre income, her husband will not buy another borolene so easily.

 -“No, no. It is not finished.Remember,You were putting that on your hand today noon? Right?. Wait, I am bringing.” Saraf left his candies aside to rush inside home and come back with the borolene.

 It is becoming dark now.The aunty left a while before.Saraf is stading under the guava tree in the corner on their home yard. He is trying to beat the biting mosquitoes on his leg using his feet. His candies are scattered on the yard.Those got scattered when his mother hit him on his cheek. He did not understand why he got beaten.He can see the green candies near the broom, under the hen-cage the red and the purple candies. The yellow one he can not find.He can hear some buzzing sound in his ear.It might be due to mosquito or might be due to the hard slap his mother gave on his right cheek. Saraf promised in his mind that next time, when he will sell his rat paddy stock, he will buy a new borolene for his mom.