BLEEDING CIVILIZATION

(All the above pictures have been clicked by me at 8.45 pm, February 23)

It’s a beautiful Sunday morning. You’re just awake. Perhaps enjoying a hot cup of tea. You might also be in a mood to turn a few pages of the Sunday newspaper. If you’re not interested in current affairs, it doesn’t matter. It’s a Sunday and you will always seek pleasure from the pleasant things of life. Am I any different from you? I too will follow the same. And, I might also feel very displeased, if someone decides to ruin my Sunday by bringing me face to face with something absolutely unpleasant. None of us will be interested in leaving the comfort zone, made freely available by every Sunday of our lives; one after the other. But I am helpless. I am eager to seek your company in something that’s immensely unpleasant in nature. 

For the last five years, the country’s leadership has been trying its level best to ensure a ‘Swachh Bharat’, a so called ‘Clean India’. And, let me remind you, this vision is not of an intolerant political party but a vision once shared by the father of our nation; none other than the ambassador of peace Mahatma Gandhi. He had once said and I quote – CLEANLINESS IS NEXT TO GODLINESS. And, this cleanliness is achievable, only when we, the people decide to be civilized. But, we seem to be failing at it every day. Yes, we are!

Ever since rules/duties of ‘Swachh Bharat’ have been implemented, we have been doing our bit to ensure adopting them in our day to day activities. But, there is no dearth of uncivilized minds, who will make sure that India continues to look unclean. I think their minds will continue to remain sick like the self-proclaimed NRIs of our school. Not all of them, but a handful of them from our 1993 batch (specifically 2/3 of them). These minds are so sick that at the sight of anything clean, they will try their best to leave it unclean. The same happened to my car, last evening. I think, a group of tobacco/gutka/pan masala munchers couldn’t digest the cleanliness standards, I maintain for my car. The shade of my car being white, such wrongdoers get easily attracted to it. So this group or individual made sure that they smear the front door, some portion of the window glass and the door handle with their red colored spirit. I had parked my car in a silent lane. Immediately after a span of mere 15 minutes, when I came back to my car, I saw this ghastly site. The first few words, which came to my mind instantly were – OUR CIVILIZATION IS BLEEDING. This is third time in the row, when such a thing has repeated itself.

Honestly speaking we are not yet civilized. I think, at times some of us decide to program an ecosystem of one-sided revenge by simply choosing to act in such uncivilized manner. I’ve no idea as to at what fault, my car was! Or, did any of my action was so hurtful to anyone that they chose to leave the car door painted in red. For a second, it almost felt that a bleeding civilization had left my car to bleed alone. I must actually be saying that the so called modern civilization is bleeding. The bad blood within them is going to take some time to flow out.

This action of the unknown, unseen miscreants have not angered me. But I am concerned about the state of coming days. Are we going to fail the dream, the mission, the vision of ‘Swachh Bharat’ or ‘Clean India’? Are we going to fail the father of our nation, who at one point of time belonged to a tolerant political party? Or we will sit in front of our television sets to be a voiceless participant in the mindless debates, which break out against the current leadership of the country. 

Through this post of mine, I wish to make an appeal; if a little bit of pride of being an Indian is left in you, stop being a part of this bleeding civilization. Stop being a part of a civilization, which bleeds for no reason and makes cleanliness bleed every day, makes clean things bleed every day. At least for once, stop being like those self-proclaimed NRIs, who have fled the country to embrace slavery and cleanliness of foreign nations.

- Virtuous Vociferous | February 24 | February Blog-4 | Never Settle | 2019

AIR CONDITIONER: PARALYZED

Picture Courtesy: Google

The air conditioner has been rendered paralyzed.

It was performing well, in sync with the real world, real time and real people. The air conditioner installed inside didn’t allow the rough temperatures, which were ruining our outsides to ruin our insides. Somehow, the joy of being in the confines of an air-conditioned environment was pleasant.

None of us had the faintest of idea that the same air conditioner will be rendered paralyzed, so suddenly!

If recollected, from hey days, the air conditioner had a charm of its own. The disruption commenced with the illogical adjustments of temperatures that the air conditioner was subjected to. After a week’s time or so, the wings of the air conditioner wasn’t allowed to swing. Dodging all concerns of global warming, the temperatures were also set at 25^o C, sometimes 26^o C and sometimes, simply unmentionable temperatures!

Till the time, the winters hadn’t lost its grip on the atmosphere, a momentary break from the air conditioner was welcome. But winters are fast receding, summers are charging in. At such a crucial juncture, the air conditioner hangs there, lonely on that wall; seemingly defunct or more directly put – paralyzed. Had this condition being human, we would have tagged it as brain-dead.

Ironically even if the air conditioner is found switched off repeatedly, either the remote goes missing or is found aimlessly wandering in between spaces of our desks. The situation is tricky.

No human group has claimed official responsibility of the now dysfunctional air conditioner also known as the paralyzed air conditioner. Voices of resentment were last heard, out of some hoodies, which kept human faces hidden beneath. They are not directly responsible for the air conditioner being rendered paralytic but, they are indirectly somewhere responsible. This untimely paralytic attack has jeopardized some unsettled body temperatures.

At times, amusement sets in and a question repeatedly pops up – What is a centralized air conditioning system is put in place? If at all this system is put in place, will the souls beneath hoodies still torture it and puncture the inner temperatures? Presently there is no one replying and suddenly I can feel a cool wave of breeze flowing out of the air conditioner. So, has the air conditioner being rendered paralyzed for real?

- Virtuous Vociferous | February 18 | February Blog-2 | Never Settle | 2019

IN HOT AND COLD PURSUIT OF MY OWN WORDS

Ever since, I’ve started reading Karl Ove Knausgård's ‘A DEATH IN THE FAMILY’, the first book in his ‘My Struggle’ series, one line has stayed with me. On the 218th page, he reveals – Writing is more about destroying than creating. Let me add, people who aren’t passionate about reading or not remotely interested in writing, will definitely get this line wrong, absolutely wrong. It is not just a line; but it is a deep insight. An insight, Karl Ove Knausgård credits another writer with. He speaks about Jean Nicolas Arthur Rimbaud, who seems to have realized this, at a very early age. But my second only post for the month of August is not about discussing Knausgård’s books or Rimbaud’s philosophy. This blog post is driven by the insight – Writing is more about destroying than creating. 

As someone had said in the past, it’s difficult to understand some of my writings. Initially I took it as a scathing remark and criticism of my work too. But I think, I misinterpreted. I feel so because they have never been close to the passion of writing or to the habit of reading. At the same time, everyone has the equal right to react towards anything and everything. 

I wish to simplify it further. Not many years before when social media exploded in our lives, we took to it like fish to water. After the debacle of Orkut, my writings found a new home in Facebook, a studio apartment in twitter and a penthouse in LinkedIn. The sense of freedom was so immense; I chose to develop a new identity of my own. Even though this newly designed identity demands a complete story of its own, I wish to push ahead by saying that Virtuous Vociferous is my alter ego on Facebook. On twitter, I am @puruthegreat; on LinkedIn, I’ve stuck to my presence as Purnesh Bhattacharya. Under all names, I chose to write what I think, I should; because I believed in my thoughts. I never gave it a thought that the outer world is equally interested in my thoughts. No I didn’t give it a second thought, because I was not completely interested in the thoughts of others. Thus began my journey of words.

Sometimes I went too far; at times, I stayed too close and on most occasions, I wrote seamlessly without any apprehension in my mind. As my words grew braver, my text bigger and my thoughts wider; the outer world deep dived in my writing matters. 

Recently someone read this on my LinkedIn page - The habit of asking too many questions might go against you in the real world. Especially when others don't believe that asking questions are the first necessary steps to lead change from front. The person who read this, first liked this post and then went out announcing to the world that I am writing dangerous things on LinkedIn. My writings/posts on Facebook met with the same fate. Objections, opinions and oddities swarmed together, which eventually led to me deciding to stop sharing my thoughts, up loud or clearly on Facebook. I don’t know, who decided to take things in their control and start telling me that I was revealing more than what could meet the eyes of my contenders. Prior to that, a school friend of mine had made fun of the length of my writings on Facebook; he chose to even ask a stupid question – How much does Facebook pay you to write so frequently and so much on your wall? Initially I chose to brush him aside. But he didn’t stop there; he started posting filthy comments on my writings. I didn’t block him. I only blocked him when he thought that advertising his recent hobbies was really cool on Facebook. His length of thoughts seemed to spill out of his own wall on Facebook. Some more recent digs over a year led to me abandoning writing on Facebook, LinkedIn and even twitter. Then came Instagram and life changed. But more than social media platforms, some beautiful people (beautiful by heart) made me change my mind and recharged my mind to start writing across all social media platforms; on which, I am very much active.  

Therefore, in hot and cold pursuit of my words, I can’t wait to restart. The philosophy which went into developing Virtuous Vociferous or @puruthegreat can’t ever stop midway. To conclude, if you are still reading this and still are in a mood to create your own opinion about me, go ahead; my journey has just begun.

- Virtuous Vociferous | August 26 | August Blog-2 | Making of the story | 2018

I RUN

It has taken greater amount of persuasion to stake my claim to the title of this post – I Run.

I find the title collective and cohesive. Some might find it coy and coercive. Yet I would stick to it; irrespective of the opinions someone might develop about me.

Coming back to the title and the activity that I associate with, I run. But I don’t run to fulfill a need or a condition, I run to address the stubbornness of immobility, I’ve had developed a habit of occasionally succumbing to. I had a fair idea that I will have to let go that habit someday. Having said that, I knew it was not going to be that easy like it seemed to be as the first and last impression. If I am asked about the last best memory of running, it would be the span of three months between October and December of 2014.

Between October and December 2014, I woke up every day to the enthusiastic idea of I RUN EVERY DAY. The idea was infectious. The idea kept my mind and muscles constantly sterilized. The idea was so strong in its form and practice, I heeded to the alarm clock at 5:30 AM every morning, irrespective of the time I might have made it to the bed. But 2015 left the idea weakened. The fitness schedule I had been boasting about and the physique I had developed fueled the erratic imagination of brashness in me. Few months down the line, I migrated to a city and the first ever habit I happened to meet with was BEING LAZY. Habits changed, hobbies changed; thoughts overlapped and somewhere in between I lost the interest in running.

Battle lines were drawn, swords were pulled out but I refused to run. There was no horsepower left in my feet to run. Days passed, months diminished and I rolled back to the city I have called home. Perceptions around me had changed. I had become arrogant but, the paunch had exceeded every limit of being a spoilt brat, which kept feeding on the fact that someday I might run. This someday overpowered every imagination, bullied my enthusiasm and I became a slave of lethargy.

But procrastination is a short lived hobby. The absence of passion in this hobby finally made it wear out. My progress continued being slow. Another year passed and I allowed myself to continue being snobbish. The first sunrise of 2017 had me looking at myself in the mirror. Day in, day out, I was sure of not being me. A pair of sports shoes, a pair of jogging t-shirts, color matched socks and shorts; everything seemed insignificant and at the same time seemed to be in waiting for me to begin. By the mid of January 2017, I knew I had to make it sure that I RUN.

February 2017 made its debut. I sought advice from a friend, who was already passionate about running. I knew there was no more time to waste and I had to wake up the next morning to ensure that I RUN. Besides running, I adapted myself to a diet plan (much unheard of me, but still). This diet plan was my introduction to a new kind of stubbornness. I had to wake up to the idea of growing fit again. And thus came the cold morning of a fading urban winter. I was on the ground, standing right in the middle; stretching my muscles and flexing my feet to put myself to test again and to write a post with a title as apt as I RUN.

To be continued…

-Virtuous Vociferous  

Nous Sommes Prêts

Till yesterday we followed an orthodox ritual of traveling. We would wait for months to first think and then travel. Our hopes stuck to the availability of tickets; we never made a choice that contested our fascination about train journeys. Though this fascination was an imposed one, over the years, we ended up gingerly falling in love with it. This love spanned between the geographical limits of Mumbai and Kolkata. Summers after summers, we relied on a solo vacation; a vacation that comprised learning English and Bengali grammar too.

Over a period of time, this fascination took a beating; other destinations started casting their spell. We did try to make an exception. Long back the three letter word ‘Goa’ resounded. A travel agent was approached; the yellow colored cubical type office was tucked somewhere between a barber’s shop and a general store, somewhere near a badly smelling fish market. Somehow the plan didn’t materialize the way, we had wanted it to. In fact we never traveled to Goa. We had saved enough for this trip. Our hearts were left broken by the immense agony of cancellation. There were two ways to vent it out, scream wildly or calm down. We calmed down, purchased a Videocon washing machine with the saved amount and never ever spoke about it. On certain occasions, it seemed like we had taken a pledge to never reveal what happened to our plans of a so called different vacation in Goa.

Years faded, desires matured, faith soared and the feet developed an itch; this itch carried the sensation of tramping across destinations. From trains, we made an upwardly move; this time we chose to fly. This wasn’t a fascination but a better option to travel. A perfect time saver; journeys by flights attracted both; raised eyebrows and swollen egos. Even though Kolkata topped the priority list (yes I mean it; the priority list) of vacations, we discovered other destinations such as Gokarna, Chennai, Puducherry, Shimla, Manali, Chandigarh, Pune, Kolhapur, Dharamshala, Silvassa and of course Goa (we visited on multiple occasions). We didn’t limit ourselves to national boundaries, we traversed partly across the globe, to another Asian destination. This time we found ourselves in Thailand; we went exploring through Pattaya and then Bangkok. We shot photographs with tigers, prayed in Buddhist temples, walked through the nights and enjoyed eyeing Dolphins, Orangutans at their comical best. Even though it was our first international trip, our passports bearing the first international stamp; the experiences were quietly brushed beneath a carpet of hushed anguish. Some complained of not being informed; we wondered if they would have towed along! Some complained of the trip being an ego trip; we regret that the ego they spoke about never showed up. Once again we took another pledge to lock our Bangkok memories with an unbreakable password. The 3500 odd photographs remain copied to one of the four or perhaps five external hard disks that we share between us. 

Throughout the years, we realized that breaking away from an orthodox ritual attracts antipathy from all quarters. The society reacts in strange manners. Ties of blood weaken. Promises of friendship are forgotten; it’s really funny how one international trip ends up being a controversy. Will we not take another international trip ever? Why shouldn’t we? Our passports are not meant to rot between their date of issue and renewal. We will travel of course, we will break a norm again; if not in the near future, definitely maybe immediately.

Having lived for long in memories of bygone years, the mind continues demanding freshness. Social media continues to tell us about the restless journeys, our friends, our family and our extended families embark upon. We used to stare at them, on our computer screens, till one day we decided; break the rules, hit the road, take the first left turn, move a little ahead, then turn to the right and continue going straight; without once, thinking of taking a U Turn.

Therefore to many journeys ahead, we wish to say, “Nous Sommes Prêts”.

-Virtuous Vociferous 

A CONCRETE STEP TOWARDS PASSION

Almost two months and it is indeed a long time to find the space, the breath and the voice to share something over the resolution for 2015. Strangely this year, there was an exception. Absolutely no one walked past the whole nine or twenty yards to pop the question, “What is your resolution for this year?”

I did have friends around me who echoed their opinions about the resolutions they had made. Some wanted to stay away from alcohol. Some wanted to experiment and grow closer to it. Someone expressed her anguish over failed relationships and wishes to settle down with a successful one. Someone expressed his happiness over having found the right person to get into a relationship and foresaw a happy life, resolving for more love, more sex, and of course kids. The odds, the evens. The prime, the faded. The heard, the unheard. All of them did resolve; only chose not to be overtly vocal.

Last year, I chose to keep my resolution wrapped. Beneath mountains, deep in a sea bed, suppressed to extremes; it remained a closely guarded secret. Revealed yet to no one and written somewhere, I shall go back to it some other day, other year. But this year, I chose to make an exception. Sometimes a change of perspective helps. And now arrives my resolution; not from the mind, but from my breathlessly pacing heart. A resolution that is not crafted or created. But a resolution, that can be called ‘quite evolved’.

I resolve to ‘take a concrete step towards something I am passionate about; the passion of storytelling’. My ‘now branded as a weekend venture’ goes by the name of EVERYDAY STORY MAKER. The passion of this storytelling is not limited to narrating stories, but extends to creating them, not one, but many of them, all original, inspired from reality around us, inspired by the Indian folklores of yore, global folklores of today and much more. Will I keep this limited only to storytelling? Only time and I shall tell.

This is not at all a late start to the year for sure, neither is it a delayed initiative. The concrete step that I’ve resolved to take to pursue my passion is well founded, deep rooted in my psyche to grow a lot more social, out of the web of social media but through original social presence; almost everywhere, every time.

Some did ask me about EVERYDAY STORY MAKER’s success rate and my plans for life. Some even asked if at all I’ve weighed my options of success or failures. Let me take this privilege of signing off by quoting someone I read from recently or maybe created from many of my facebook posts – “There is more to life rather than celebrating success and grieving over failures...”

-vociferous