Tung Nam

The less people speak to me the better. Because everything they have to say to me or ask, will be cliched, having fallen into a kind of pattern...kind of assembly line...if you know what I mean.... And I am preety much disgusted by them. So please... don’t talk to me. Rather, ask someone else ...another thing, 'I win, You lose' is not my mantra...don't come to me with it.

GREEN IS THE COLOUR

Heavy hung the canopy of blue
Shade my eyes and I can see you
White is the light that shines through the dress that you wore
She lay in the shadow of a wave
Hazy were the visions overplayed
Sunlight on her eyes but moonshine made her blind everytime
Green is the colour of her kind
Quickness of the eye deceives the mind
Envy is the bond between the hopeful and the damned

still sleepy. still moving about languidly. still listening to 'green is the colour'. ah it feels so good. time to wake up and smell the coffee.

it's raining, and its raining quite hard. there's a nifty wind blowing through my room. i can hear the thunder as well. shocks me sometimes, but now i'm okay. i've shut my windows to keep the raindrops from ruining my books that are kept on the window sill.

it's good that it's raining. just the way i would have liked it to. washes off everything dirty which makes you feel the real weigth of your body. which is important, if you want to stay grounded...close to earth...connected...and not flying about nowhere in particular...disconnected...

KUMBH MELA: AN INDIAN ODYSSEY

PHOTOGRAPHY: PRASHANT PANJIAR

PRESERVING TIBET

PHOTOGRAPHS BY JOSHUA KURLANTZICK

these days if you see me, anywhere, chances are you'll be ignored. no, i am not too big for my boots neither have i turned blind. i just want to avoid people. maybe i want them to ignore me as well. that's all. hope you'll understand.

it's bloody difficult to get a foothold as it is, to top it, my plans have been thwarted. so i sit and sulk and think and think some more. rue some more. maybe this is just a phase. hope it'll pass like it usually does. hope i get over it, soon. i just hope.



lesson: don't be so sure... :-((

as i sit and stare into the screen, i can feel a bead of sweat moving down my tummy and another one running down my spine. the temperature's been up at about 34.4 degree centigrades. that's inside. out side it must be a little around 37 maybe. and today in the news it was flashed that yesterday calcutta recorded the highest temperature. a heat wave is on, they say. it struck me as odd that i was out yesterday in the afternoon. i felt it allright. but wasn't sure if it was the heat wave. the news made it sound as if its something serious. but i was fine. walking down the boulevard. the hoogly wasn't churning up much wind to comfort me but i was okay. i just thought i would sit in front of the hoogly and smoke. something i haven't done for a long time.

it was only yesterday that my father told me about something i had been preparing myself for. but didn't know it would hit me this hard. it is one thing to prepare, quite another when you are actually confronted by it.

all i can do now is nothing. i guess.

chordadu passed away today in the afternoon. just as i came back home after a little ramble, and my brother told me. my mom and dad has left for poltukakas place. maybe the cremation will take place today itself.

my memories of chordadu goes back to my childhood when i used to visit him in their nimtola residence. back then i never really liked going to anyone's house. his house was no exception. however i had to as everyone went. he lived with poltukaka and kokila pishi and chor dida. whenever we went to visit them, chordadu made it a point that we ate well. and we did. it was the best of north calcutta's delicacies. as i grew up, my visits to chordadu's house became less and less. and my little interaction with him eventually faded away. and eventually they left the nimtola residence and moved into a flat bari in dum dum side. my parents and my brother whenever they came back home after a visit to chordadu's house always told me that he asked about me. how he remembered everyone! the last time i saw chordadu was in his new flat bari. that time, i went with rahulda to visit him. chordida had passed away then. he was seated in his bed, a little frail but lively as usual. i never felt like going to their new house as well. but i did feel the need to meet him.