A whole lot of nothing

 Today, like most days, I have been letting my thoughts go wherever they please. They’ve been running up and down the hills and valleys of old memories and new, frolicking about the gardens of happy thoughts and meandering, with a sunken head, through the bog of regrets, failures and missed chances.

For people familiar with my writing, and me as a person, it wouldn’t take them long to guess that it’s been a rainy day today. It came as a respite from the brutal, sticky, humid weather I’ve had to endure over the last 4 to 5 days.
I love the monsoons, and I feel happy when it rains.

Coming back to the title. It is a fitting heading for what has happened over the last few days.
The same boring routine. I also suspect there may be a pattern involved in what I have for lunch on any given day of the week. Additionally, the neighbours living upstairs make a lot of noise and continue to be a nightmare to live with. One good thing about living on the floor below them is that I’ve learnt to get over my anger issues. Can’t go about punching people, right? Relax, dear reader, I would do no such thing.
Also, my hate for pigeons now overwhelmingly exceeds my fear of dogs. I can already sense you judging me. Go on, then. Judge away.
But why are there so many of them? All they do is multiply, replace better birds and crap about the entire place. My hate isn’t without reason or justified cause. I’ve had to wash the same set of clothes two times now because they’ve decided that my shirts are a better place for them to relieve themselves than trees or open fields, or the cars parked wrongly on the street.

I guess, judging by the nature of the complaints, you can tell how boring the last few days have been. One good thing has been that I have started
watching Suits recently. The show has been good so far. But it doesn't beat the sense of warmth and comfort that I get from watching the old Feluda films by both of the Rays. Quite recently, I discovered a really simple set of telefilms directed by Sandip Ray titled 'Satyajiter Priyo Golpo', and I enjoyed it without a doubt. Surely, I will be watching them repeatedly.

I suppose I will end the rant here. Thank you for being a patient audience to my outburst.

Dear reader, what’s going on with you these days? Have you got any complaints or rants? Feel free to drop’em in the comments.

Thanks for stopping by, stranger.

Best.

All the things I’ve wanted to be

 [originally written on July 22, 2025]

My recent train journey, a part of which has been documented in my previous post, brought back a lot of memories.
Travelling with my parents and brother, eating homemade food, the anticipation of meeting my maternal grandparents and cousins on my mother’s side and not having to use so much sanitiser (COVID screwed my brain) etc. In fact, none at all. My grandparents' home was my happy place. It remained so until they moved closer to a city/town due to grandpa’s health issues. I only have happy memories of that place, and whenever I search for it on Google Maps and browse over its current state with the street view option, I can’t help but feel sad about its current state. Nobody lives there anymore, but anyone who’d visited that place when all of us used to be there would tell you about the happy times that place was a witness to. One day, if life permits, I would like to retire in such a place. 

Another funny memory about train travel was my fascination with the life of the attendant. That man was responsible for handing out clean linen, bedsheets and towels and then collecting them whenever someone new boarded the train. He was also the person who’d be asked by the 70-odd people travelling in one bogie/compartment to repeatedly fiddle with the AC temperature. Some would want the compartment completely chilled, while others would like it relatively warm. Poor fellow never had a moment of rest while responding to such requests.

However, the attendant’s life always surprised me, and I was fascinated by the nature of their work. Naturally, for a child, fascination with any profession leads to them choosing that as their future career. And I was no stranger to this emotion. So, during one such travel, while I sat between my parents, who were serving lunch to me and my brother on paper plates, and also sharing some with our co-passengers, I was asked a question by a middle-aged uncle sitting in front of me.
Now, one thing you must note is that in India, a middle-aged uncle who is particularly fond of loud burps and listening to scandalous bits of media with his phone’s volume turned to maximum is a ubiquitous scene in trains, buses, metros, etc. They make their presence felt in all modes of public transport and are curious by nature about the careers and political views of anyone travelling with them.

One, belonging to this species, asked me what I wanted to do with my life.
Without thinking much, as I was too focused on finishing the chips packet I had in my hands, I muttered the words ‘Train Coach Attendant’. This probably threw the Uncle off guard, as he didn’t ask any further questions and went back to heated political discussions with another passenger. How could he respond to that? He probably expected me to say doctor, engineer or a bureaucrat or something similar. And to that, he would've boasted about how his sister’s brother-in-law’s uncle’s daughter’s son is studying at an IIT and that I need to work hard. I probably stole his thunder by saying something so ‘low-class’. Anyways, good riddance, I thought. My brother was giggling through this entire thing.

But from the corner of my eye, I had noticed my parents staring at me. My mother had stopped counting the pooris in the casserole, with a smile that she failed to hide, and my father, too, had a slight smile. What followed was a 15-minute lesson on how difficult their lives were and how people never treated the attendants with any respect. To my point that I would get to travel all the time on trains, I was told that I could travel without becoming an attendant. This was my short tryst with being a train attendant.
Quite honestly, my parents were right. In a country like ours, where labour isn’t treated with adequate respect, jobs like that never have happy workers. Plus, I loved science a tad too much to leave it for anything else.

Another thing that I still maintain that I’ll become one day is a milkman and own a dairy farm.
Why? Well, because I like milk, curd, cheese, butter and everything associated with milk. I also plan to open a shop that sells Bengali sweets so that I can have them whenever I wish. This could a profession I take up in preparation for my retirement.

Finally, one that cracked up my entire family. Once, I was crying over something my mother said(okay, I was in my teens and boys do cry at times), and my father and brother decided that they would tease me over it while I was still wiping my tears. Over the course of the conversation, when I was told that scientists don’t cry because what if tears fall into their apparatus, I told the 3 of them- ‘I won’t become a scientist. I will become a thinker.’ They paused for a moment and asked me, ‘What do you mean?’. I told them, in all innocence, that I would sit and think! You should have seen the laughter that followed as my mother, unable to control her laugh, gave me a hug.

There were more things I wanted to be and still do. All from simple innocence, I guess. Some of them are a dairy farmer and shop owner, a sweet shop owner and a writer.  

Tell me, dear reader, what quirky profession did you choose as a kid?

Waiting for your comments.

Thanks for dropping by!

Best.

P.S. Don’t hesitate to point out grammatical or typographical errors.

Birthday, Travel and nothing much really

 [written originally on July 19, 2025]

I turned a year older and took another trip around the Sun.
I am supposed to be older and wiser, but I am none of those yet.
Also, I am supposed to make more friends and meet more people and socialise more. That’s what my mother says. Sadly, I am no longer that obedient.
I recently came across a post on a social media platform that mentioned how Immanuel Kant lived a fairly uneventful life, spending his entire life in his hometown and never marrying. Other than the fact that I have no hometown, or designate any town as such, and that I have lived in different places throughout my life, I think our lives match quite a bit. Except, I am no philosopher.

Also, I got to travel a bit after more than a year and also took a train after 3 long years. During both journeys, I spoke a lot to my co-passengers and also finished reading a poetry book and a short story by Gogol!
(I would highly recommend reading ‘The Nose’ by Gogol)

Other than that, nothing remarkable has happened since I last shared something with the few readers I have here. I originally wanted to write about what I observed during my train journeys but I think I’ll reserve it for some other day.

Also, gotta rant about the horrible weather. It’s hot and humid and I have a refrigerator to clean. As it was switched off for more than a week, some mould has developed inside it, and it doesn't smell very pleasant. Tomorrow is going to be a long day of cleaning.
So, send your prayers and best wishes!

Finally, dear readers, what do you want me to write about? What new topics?
I await your responses.

Thank you for stopping by! Have a wonderful time ahead!

Best.

P.S. Forgive any typos and grammatical errors. I wrote this while on the train on my phone in between countless debates and discussions with my co-passengers.

A Road Trip

[originally written on 29 June, 2025]

The weather has been disappointing lately. Clouds gather and disperse at their fancy, and we are yet to witness a decent downpour during this monsoon. The sky remains cloudy for the most part, but that provides little relief from the sticky, humid weather.

Growing up in northern India and visiting the eastern states during summer vacations, I always used to wonder why men here were often seen shirtless. The most they would have is a vest or a gamuchha- which is a thinly woven cotton towel perfect for wiping away sweat. And it dries quickly, too. Exactly what one needs in this humid weather, where one is bound to sweat by the gallons. This unforgiving weather, which peaks from April till the monsoons last, may very well be the reason for this choice of attire(or lack off) of the people here.

Brave that I am, I decided to undertake a solo trip to a nearby place. If you’re expecting descriptions of pristine blue streams, a dense tropical rainforest or virgin beaches, prepare to be disappointed. I visited none of those places. Frankly, I didn’t even travel by any modern mode of transport. I relied on what we call ‘11 number ki bus’ or the Bus no. 11!
In other words, I walked.

It wasn’t a hike or a trek. The distance was hardly 2 kilometres. I walked to a hillock in a nearby village and took in the view of the area. The elevation wasn’t anything spectacular, nor was the view.
The best part of the climb, if one can call it that, was the process and then the silence and solitude on the summit. There was no one there-neither 2 two-legged nor 4-legged. There were surely some centipedes and millipedes, but no remarkable flora or fauna. I didn’t take out my phone to take a picture or a video even once during the entire walk.

Initially, while at the location, I was bored by the lack of special sights and sounds. But it was only after having spent a few minutes in complete silence that I realised the importance of the place.
I could just sit there. Still. Unbothered. Unknown.

People who’ve read my previous writings know about my love for silent, calm and empty places. I like to see places when they are barren of human activity. This was exactly like that. The few moments of peace which I managed to gather were soon interrupted by rolling storm clouds! I do not mind the rain one bit. It was lightning that I feared. Anyone who’s lived in Eastern India will tell you about how dangerous it gets here. So, I had to hurry down the small hill and in no time, I was back amidst civilisation.

I am happy to share with you, dear reader, that the clouds didn’t disappoint, and midway to my home, the rains came down with all their heavenly might. Naturally, I didn’t change my pace at all, and by the time I had reached my home, fumbling with the doorlock while trying to open it, I had already formed a small puddle of water from my drenched clothes.

The rains went on for the entire late afternoon and evening and extended well into the night. This kept all the loud evening walkers and the noisy kids who play less and fight more confined to their quarters, and that was another thing I was thankful for as I took in the calmness and solemnity of the blue evening from my balcony. A fitting end to the day, I guess.

For those of you who’ve made it this far, bearing my boring, incoherent ramblings, and think of me as an anti-social person, I’ll say I am not. It’s just that I value my company over forced friendship and unwilling acquaintanceship. Over time, I have realised that I have very little tolerance for such things. I do have a liking for long, meaningful conversations with some friends and strangers, but that happens rarely.

Anyway, I hope you had the patience to read this through. Let me know what else I should write about. Give me a prompt or a sentence/thought to begin with. Or share your ideas, maybe?

Till then, dear strangers, have a wonderful time.

Ciao!

Thoughts on Summer(and its many arrivals)

[originally written on March 23, 2025] 

The city I am in currently has been blessed with some Kal Baisakhi showers t̶o̶d̶a̶y yesterday. The interspersed drizzle throughout the day gave much-needed relief from the warm pre-summer weather that had begun to take shape during the last 10 days. As I write this, a strong cool breeze makes its way through the open windows and caresses my body in an almost sensual fashion. Why do I liken the flowing of wind to that particular emotion, you may wonder? perv much? No! Haha!

Because when the wind touches my body, all I want to do is curl up and give into that sensation and enjoy it.
One good thing about rains and cool breezes in summer in India is the relief I get from the constant humming of the fan. As if the heat and humidity weren’t enough, one has to bear the constant onslaught of the whirring sounds of a rotating motor hanging by a creaky metal pole just a few feet above your head! If I could, I would never use fans in my life and I am pretty militant about it!
But to be fair to the summer season, whose arrival is signalled by trailers of hot spells even before it is officially here, I do consider it to be pretty in one(and ONLY one!) aspect- peace!

Summer Afternoons are among the most peaceful things you can experience in the Indian subcontinent. From the bustling streets, balconies and terraces during winters where kinnow, Ganne ka juice(sugarcane juice), apples, pickles etc. liberally exchange hands of the young and old sitting in the sun to the abandoned streets during the spring and summer months, where all you’d find are dusty streets and dogs sleeping in the shade; no other country shuns the outdoors in a matter of days as the Indians do.

If you find yourself in the Eastern part of the country, either by chance or by choice, during peak pre-monsoon summers, you’d see no activity on the streets. None at all. Monkeys, dogs, cows and birds retreat to their dwellings as the sun grows in might, and men and women shut down shop, pull down their blinds and draw their curtains to escape into a lengthy afternoon siesta. I guess having rice(Pakhala, Panta bhaat) helps! This is followed religiously as a ritual. The world may go to war, be on the verge of nuclear annihilation, impending alien invasion or another raging pandemic. But people here would only care about it after having their post-siesta cup of tea. I don’t say this lightly when I say that most towns and cities transform into desolate ghost towns for those few hours.
The only way I could exaggerate this imagery more is by saying only death dares to venture into this harsh weather in the form of hot, dry and merciless winds- called loo. You’d be wise to avoid that.

But not me!

For someone who’s always in search of solitude and empty places and wishes to avoid the uncivilised, uncouth, and often rude behaviour of my fellow countrymen, extreme weather conditions provide me with an opportunity to do just that. It may be a little unpleasant to your body, but I enjoy every bit of it. Winter nights in north Indian cities are similar. I have lived most of my life in northern India and, only recently, shifted to a coastal state in the eastern part of the country. Therefore, I’ve had to opportunity to experience both extremes-and I love them both. I’ve walked home on a 48 °C afternoon and have done the same on a 0C night. The same picture of the lifeless streets as before. The only difference would be to see a poor watchman, with one or more stray curled up beside him, wrapped up in multiple thin blankets, trying to warm his hands on the fire he lights up with discarded pieces of cardboard, egg crates, newspapers etc. I guess this is the only benefit of having dirty, garbage-laden streets in this country!
Other than this, you’d be lucky to find anything else.

If you ever have the chance to experience this, you’ll realise that our cities look beautiful in their stillness and inactivity. Dare I say, the world looks much better without human activity.

As the country gears up to welcome the summer months, and thereafter, the much-awaited and loved monsoons, I plan to find joy in every moment of each season and not crib about it.

What is your favourite season, dear reader?

See you soon!

P.S. This entry was written over two days. I started it yesterday just as the rain clouds made way for the setting sun, but completed it today evening. The weather has been pleasant throughout. I haven't used the fan once. This will be changing in the coming days as after many false starts, the summers truly begin!