it's saturday morning 9 o'clock, and i'm wondering what i'm going to do all day. vashkar is busy with shooting their new ad, my colleagues are gone for the weekend for a mini trip in jamuna resort, tuhi is most probably busy visiting (or entertaining) her parents/in-laws/sister/sister-in-laws/cousins/nieces/nephews/ husband's friends/some undefined people. and sharmee is away. in fact, this is the first time i realize, now that sharmee is gone...i have no one to talk to except vashkar. and nowhere to go to. today's options are, i. jamuna resort: for which i'm late already, and the sound of the place doesn't make me all excited about spending two whole days and a night there. ii. going to jewel's place: he has invited me over to his place as his parents/siblings have all gone to uk, and his wifey is out on duty all day in her hospital. i know what going to his empty flat implies, and i'm not the least interested. iii. i can call dhrubo and go on a date of some kind, but i'm sure he's not going to receive my phone call, or even if he does, he'll make excuses of all kind. iv. i can go to vashkar's shooting and sit in a corner bored. i am not 'creative' enough to participate (not that i think making advertisements is anywhere near creativity though!), so i'll just have to sit and watch a bunch of 'creative' people acting so, errr.. 'creative'! v. sit home and fuel my frustration.
none of these seem very promising. and i know option v is the destiny for me. not only for this saturday, but for all my goddamn life. (see, i have started it already!, i mean the 'fuel my frustration' stuff.)
dhatteri! i wish sharmee was here in dhaka. i feel like a destitute without her.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Thursday, August 28, 2008
random
yesterday the headline was tarek rahman's unconditional bail. today it's four infamous army personnel's (who were charged with murder of four national leaders) acquittal. i wonder what news awaits us tomorrow! looks like dhaka is becoming an unsafe place, with all these suspected-to-be criminals out on the streets!
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
life is somewhere else
right now i am reading life is elsewhere by milan kundera. i think it's been almost a month i've started reading it, but i haven't even finished half of it till now. some books are better read this way, lingering over every chapter, every page, even words..
i usually read it on my way to the office in the morning. and sometimes in the office, when i get bored working. a minute ago i came across this passage from the book. and it made my week!
"(This is something that could never have happened to Xavier, because Xavier has no mother, and no father either, and not having parents is the first precondition of freedom.
But please understand, it's not a matter of losing one's parents. Gerard de Nerval's mother died when he was a newborn, and yet he lived his whole life under the hypnotic gaze of her wonderful eyes.
Freedom does not begin where parents are rejected or buried, but where they do not exist:
Where man is brought into the world without knowing by whom.
Where man is brought into the world by an egg thrown into a forest.
Where man is spat out on the ground by the sky and puts his feet on the world without feeling gratitude.)"
i think i have fallen in love with milan kundera, once again!
i usually read it on my way to the office in the morning. and sometimes in the office, when i get bored working. a minute ago i came across this passage from the book. and it made my week!
"(This is something that could never have happened to Xavier, because Xavier has no mother, and no father either, and not having parents is the first precondition of freedom.
But please understand, it's not a matter of losing one's parents. Gerard de Nerval's mother died when he was a newborn, and yet he lived his whole life under the hypnotic gaze of her wonderful eyes.
Freedom does not begin where parents are rejected or buried, but where they do not exist:
Where man is brought into the world without knowing by whom.
Where man is brought into the world by an egg thrown into a forest.
Where man is spat out on the ground by the sky and puts his feet on the world without feeling gratitude.)"
i think i have fallen in love with milan kundera, once again!
Monday, August 25, 2008
endless, useless, boring blabberings
i had polio when i was 3. my left leg is a bit weaker and thinner than the right one. so i limp a little. not quite noticeable indoors, but outdoors when i walk people do stare at my feet. i don't blame them, curiosity is the mother of invention they say. in this case however, all their curiosity would let them invent is a thin, unusual foot, but at least their thirst for knowledge is quenched! i don't exactly mind. i mean i did mind, when i was little. but over the years i kind of got used to people's stares. and comments. yes, let's not forget about the comments. how could i? the comments from the people who stand there on the sideways, in the middle of the busy roads, in everywhere, with no work in hand. i always wondered, what do these people do? you can find them anywhere in this city. they just stand there, a group of two or three, you don't know if they are having a conversation, all you know and hear is the comments they'll throw at you just as you pass them. of course, to experience that you have to be one of the female species.
my friends, my fellow colleagues, often complain about them. i guess it's a bit different for me. it's not only my sex that gets me comments from all around me, also my unfortunate left foot. i call it unfortunate because it has given me no trouble in any phase of my life, but it has to go through this ordeal every now and then. poor thing!
anyways, most of the times i don't notice these passing remarks (that's probably because i rarely notice anything going around me). and the times i do, i ignore them. there was a time when i got furious whenever somebody dared to utter a mocking word at me; sometimes i even confronted them. but what i discovered is, the male species will always stick together. you face one of them, the others will come to his rescue. or make the whole thing a laughing issue. i don't remember exactly when i stopped reacting to these incidents. i got used to it at some point. these days, i don't even notice. people will whistle, or laugh, or sing, or stare, or throw an offensive comment...i have so got used to it that it goes past me unnoticed, and sometimes when i do notice, it gets ignored.
the reason behind my stupid ramblings is, this afternoon, as i was walking towards movenpick (gulshan 1), a guy sang a song to me. yah, i know it sounds absolutely romantic. but the guy had a weird grin in his face (his friend who was beside him, wore exactly the same grin...which is a point to ponder on!) and the song he was singing was about 'how gray hairs don't make one old'! well, i had a realization just then! i'm of the female gender, i have a defective leg, and now, some of my hairs have turned gray! i have to admit, i'm a bit proud of my gray hairs, i'm sick and tired of hearing how i look like a 14 year old, these gray hairs give me some kind of an aged identity, which i like. it didn't strike me until then that these innocent silver hairs too, are something to stare at, something to comment on...something to sing a song about! wow, what a good news for the sideway commentators! go guys go! wish u every success on your job (that you do so passionately, i have to say), and next time i manage to notice your hard work, i'll congratulate you.
ok, this was supposed to be a write up full of scathing satire. but now that i've read the whole thing myself, it's a pathetic and whining piece of shit. sorry the sideway commentators, i don't hold any particular grudge against you. actually, you guys are quite funny. i just wanted to write a satire. but it ended up this way. and now i'm again whining. let's stop here.
my friends, my fellow colleagues, often complain about them. i guess it's a bit different for me. it's not only my sex that gets me comments from all around me, also my unfortunate left foot. i call it unfortunate because it has given me no trouble in any phase of my life, but it has to go through this ordeal every now and then. poor thing!
anyways, most of the times i don't notice these passing remarks (that's probably because i rarely notice anything going around me). and the times i do, i ignore them. there was a time when i got furious whenever somebody dared to utter a mocking word at me; sometimes i even confronted them. but what i discovered is, the male species will always stick together. you face one of them, the others will come to his rescue. or make the whole thing a laughing issue. i don't remember exactly when i stopped reacting to these incidents. i got used to it at some point. these days, i don't even notice. people will whistle, or laugh, or sing, or stare, or throw an offensive comment...i have so got used to it that it goes past me unnoticed, and sometimes when i do notice, it gets ignored.
the reason behind my stupid ramblings is, this afternoon, as i was walking towards movenpick (gulshan 1), a guy sang a song to me. yah, i know it sounds absolutely romantic. but the guy had a weird grin in his face (his friend who was beside him, wore exactly the same grin...which is a point to ponder on!) and the song he was singing was about 'how gray hairs don't make one old'! well, i had a realization just then! i'm of the female gender, i have a defective leg, and now, some of my hairs have turned gray! i have to admit, i'm a bit proud of my gray hairs, i'm sick and tired of hearing how i look like a 14 year old, these gray hairs give me some kind of an aged identity, which i like. it didn't strike me until then that these innocent silver hairs too, are something to stare at, something to comment on...something to sing a song about! wow, what a good news for the sideway commentators! go guys go! wish u every success on your job (that you do so passionately, i have to say), and next time i manage to notice your hard work, i'll congratulate you.
ok, this was supposed to be a write up full of scathing satire. but now that i've read the whole thing myself, it's a pathetic and whining piece of shit. sorry the sideway commentators, i don't hold any particular grudge against you. actually, you guys are quite funny. i just wanted to write a satire. but it ended up this way. and now i'm again whining. let's stop here.
Wednesday, August 6, 2008
cox's bazar trip, palbasha and the nation!
we three (tuhi, sharmee and i) were trying to keep awake and chatting at our hotel room in cox's bazar on saturday. we reached cox's bazar that morning at around 8.30, came to the hotel directly to find out our room is not available before 12. quite a few arguments later, we were able to secure one room, even better than the one that was booked for us.. :D. happy with the room and the lunch and the shopping, we decided to have some rest. i was changing the tv channels after some futile attempts to start an adda (as sharmee declared she needs two hours sleep) when suddenly i came across close up 1 on ntv. it's an american idol like show, the only reason i sometimes stop to watch this program is the ridiculous comments thrown by a hilarious judge. but this time, it was not him that made me stop. it was a girl, singing 'bhalobashbo bashbore bondhu' by habib. the girl looked familiar, and also her singing reminded me of palbasha siddique, the girl that sang pran in where the hell is matt (2008). and yes, as i found out a couple of minutes later, it was palbasha siddique!
i first came to know of this girl from matts video. the video is one of my most favorites and i can't just have enough of that song. i tried to find everything i could on the net about the singer, and found out she is a bangladeshi girl living in minneapolis, studying music. and then she appeared singing in a bangladeshi television, singing 'bhablobashbo bashbore' in her own way with perfect improvisation. i thought the judges won't like it, but surprisingly, they were all blown away! well, improvising is appreciated in american idol, but i didn't think in bangladesh anybody would appreciate it. here we can't stand remakes, we hate maqsud for ''insulting'' tagore, fuad for ''demeaning'' happy akhand, armeen for being totally ''ignorant'' about the feeling of s.d. barman's song, we bengalis, are an emotional clan. (though somehow we appreciate with some claps when suman translates john denver's songs or when souls shamelessly copies 'jamaica farewell' with totally different lyrics in bangla). anyways, back to palbasha, i came back all excited to dhaka, telling vashkar how i saw palbasha in close up 1, how beautifully she sang, and how sure i am that she's going to win. yes, vashkar had seen her singing too, and he also saw the results where palbasha left because she didn't earn enough votes.
i was heartbroken. i so wanted her to win. she sang so differently, she deserved to stay. i looked for the videos in the net and thanks to youtube, we have all there. i saw her leaving close up 1, getting 42 out of 50 by the judges couldn't keep her in the competition because she got only 10000 votes through sms. while her opponent got 32 by the judges and 30000 votes through sms. well, that's just like this country. my first assumption came true. this country will not understand re-making, improvising or making a difference. all we have is our emotions, so anybody singing all emo, we'll fall for that. to us, artists should be 'starving', intellectuals 'struggling'. it satisfies our soul to see them like that. the more you starve and struggle the greater you become...and when you die starving and struggling, we'll shower your grave with imported flowers, may be prize your sad family with an award or two, then forget all about you after a year or so (after we find another dying, starving, struggling artist). that's how we are.
umm...i don't know what happened to me, i'm not that great a fan of palbasha am i? :S. i think this writing is misleading. well, who cares.
i first came to know of this girl from matts video. the video is one of my most favorites and i can't just have enough of that song. i tried to find everything i could on the net about the singer, and found out she is a bangladeshi girl living in minneapolis, studying music. and then she appeared singing in a bangladeshi television, singing 'bhablobashbo bashbore' in her own way with perfect improvisation. i thought the judges won't like it, but surprisingly, they were all blown away! well, improvising is appreciated in american idol, but i didn't think in bangladesh anybody would appreciate it. here we can't stand remakes, we hate maqsud for ''insulting'' tagore, fuad for ''demeaning'' happy akhand, armeen for being totally ''ignorant'' about the feeling of s.d. barman's song, we bengalis, are an emotional clan. (though somehow we appreciate with some claps when suman translates john denver's songs or when souls shamelessly copies 'jamaica farewell' with totally different lyrics in bangla). anyways, back to palbasha, i came back all excited to dhaka, telling vashkar how i saw palbasha in close up 1, how beautifully she sang, and how sure i am that she's going to win. yes, vashkar had seen her singing too, and he also saw the results where palbasha left because she didn't earn enough votes.
i was heartbroken. i so wanted her to win. she sang so differently, she deserved to stay. i looked for the videos in the net and thanks to youtube, we have all there. i saw her leaving close up 1, getting 42 out of 50 by the judges couldn't keep her in the competition because she got only 10000 votes through sms. while her opponent got 32 by the judges and 30000 votes through sms. well, that's just like this country. my first assumption came true. this country will not understand re-making, improvising or making a difference. all we have is our emotions, so anybody singing all emo, we'll fall for that. to us, artists should be 'starving', intellectuals 'struggling'. it satisfies our soul to see them like that. the more you starve and struggle the greater you become...and when you die starving and struggling, we'll shower your grave with imported flowers, may be prize your sad family with an award or two, then forget all about you after a year or so (after we find another dying, starving, struggling artist). that's how we are.
umm...i don't know what happened to me, i'm not that great a fan of palbasha am i? :S. i think this writing is misleading. well, who cares.
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