Untitled Part 1

Yes. I have reached Arizona safely and in another weeks time I will be leaving this place.
So that probably answers all those lame questions that I put in my last entry.
In between that time and now, I have done a few important things.

Realised that I am not really that far from insanity, heard some really good songs, re-realised the absolute truths over and over again till I went back to the first realisation, learnt how to cook (and this time its proper food which three human beings actually dared to eat and just in case you are curious they are all still alive and healthy), spoke to some old friends with whom I had not spoken for a while (well by speaking I mean on gchat!), finished watching HIMYM episodes till the present and am waiting for the next one, started watching The Big Bang Theory, worked on my upcoming synthesis (a little bit), explored the small nick nacks of my camera, and came up with infinite new blog entries in my mind.

I do not know, at the end of this blog whether all these would be properly addressed but even if they are not, what I really aim to acheive through this blog is the spontaneity that I felt I was not living upto in the last few blogs.

There are a number of things that goes on in my mind just as my fingers spend a split second to reach the next key that my mind tells them to touch upon. There are a few nanoseconds between which the letter appears on the screen, my mind rechecks whether it is correct, asks the same or a different finger to type the same or different letter and voila a whole word is printed on the screen, only to find a second later that by then my mind has rejected it and therefore a new finger is now commanded to press the backspace button, and while I write all this, the letter appears blurry in front of me, as if I am in some kind of trance. I feel my fingers moving fast but not as fast as normally when I type fast because not only am I not in the correct posture of typing but also my mind is still getting adjusted to the choice it has in front of it, to be sad or to be carefree or to be immensely confused between these two grey areas.

And some how , suddenly my mind cannot understand the choice it has to make. It cannot believe that it can actually chose to be not sad, because a part of it somewhere re-decides to let loose the realisation that if it is not sad, it may not be able to produce a striking work of literature. A small indifferent part of it laughs , silently to mock and cynically rejoice at its indecisiveness, leaving me and my fingers with a lot of time to understand whats really happening only to give up and pause in front of the screen.

Pausing is something that I have never considered a virtue when it comes to writing. So I turn up the volume of my mp3 player. I wanted to write ipod but I did not want to sound that I am showing off, because although I spent almost 30 seconds to decide whether I would keep the last line on my final publication (which by the way is an eternity for someone who normally does not wait to repunctuate his statements till he finishes satisfying his fingers' urge to almost break the keyboard), I realised I really didnt care whether it was an ipod or another mp3 player. The volume is still not high enough. I can hear the refridgerator being opened and closed around me.

The song that plays on my ears is Dekho Manoshi by a Bengali Band called Fossils. This band is actually from India, from the same part of the country that I come from and shares its name with another band I think either from the USA or Austrailia. I have heard I think one song of the other Fossils but I dont remember the genre. But I do remember that I like this Fossils better. And its not just because Im biased towards the language. Because I think Fossils although would be part of my best Indian Band list, it would probably only reach the top 30 List of my All time favorite artists. One or two songs of theirs would probably be part of a top 50 list of my best songs.

And that my friend is what I had in mind when I had thought about making this post since yesterday night. But between last night and now I read an email and was reminded of a comment, both made about my blog by people whose opinions I consider important and also read a couple of blogs, one by a person very close to me and another whom I do not know, and frankly all these somehow affected me in an individually small but cumulatively big way.

Lets start with the comments.

After my last blog one of my friends commented that something was missing from it. And I agreed whole heartedly. I do not know whether I would be able to find that missing ingredient myself by the time I reach the end of this blog, but I myself did feel a certain tinge of incompleteness when I finished the last one.

As my fingers started this paragraph, a very soothing opening arpeggio of Bishakto Manush flies across my ears and my hands reach the volume circle and pumps it upto the maximum level. The bass drum and the cymbal are probably just behind my head and I realise I am not really in a trance and yet I would rather want to keep writing about the song. This my friends is definitely one of the best songs of Fossils I have ever heard and I beleive very few Bengali Bands would be able to come up with these lyrics.

You know the funny thing about lyrics and for that matter any form of literature may it be poetry or prose, or even a non-consequential blog such as the one you are reading write now, is the differences of interpretations. I mean someone who knows me really well would probably find a pattern in my blog entries, while on the other hand those who really read for the so-called literary treat would probably only analyse the depth of the tone and voice of a specific entry. And this was what the second comment - the email -all about. Written by a friend who shares an uncanny similarity of choices when it comes to experiences and their interpretation .... just a minute....Yes. I hate the song Nishkromon. Dont know why. Maybe its just the mood. But it may also be just the difference in note of the two songs. While Millenium sets in my ears, I return to what I was saying.. this email actually talked about how I have become a tinge more positive in my blog. The email actually understood very specific hints that I had in some of my previous blogs, only for people who would understand and somehow it felt nice. Not because I felt good about being positive but that the hints were understood correctly. Thanks.

What this made me remind was a feeling I had when I was about 15 years old and probably had just been introduced to Pink Floyd or maybe I was 14 then. Anyways, whenever I used to listen to my most prized possession of all, the first album of Floyd that I had ever bought, The Wall, I would always get lost in this dream of how just like me, in another time-space domain, another 15 year old would also be lying on his bed, hearing the same chord progressions and lyrics, would also start thinking, randomly, how music can change the world. How if we all learnt to see the deeper meaning of every word said by that album we could reach a solution. To almost everything. I would keep my eyes closed to imagine that other boy. I would try to imagine him as different as I could. I just realised that feminists might not accept my dream and call it sexist but I did only imagine a boy and that does not say anything about my orientation ... but coming back to more serious notes.. I never could find him. Somewhere down the line Oasis joined Pink Floyd and then Cold Play. Lucky Ali had been there even before Floyd and together with Nachiketa, they were really the five pillars on which my musical philosophy was built on. Other supporting pillars later appeared including Kishore, RDBurman, The Doors, Gautam Chattopadhyay and a lot of others but these were definitely the first pillars. And together they used to shout at the mirror to find that elusive face that I would be searching. The face who would keep staring at the lyrics page downloaded from the internet for the song Comfortably Numb and would ultimately one day make that song a part of himself, so much so that every happy and sad incident. EVERY INCIDENT THAT EVER MADE ANY SIGNIFICANCE IN HIS LIFE ..would be associated with that song.

That boy probably grew up or didn't. Dont really know what happened to him, because if I have to judge from what everyone say, he changed a lot. And if he changed really, he wouldnt be the same would he. And then we cannot really say he grew up can we? I mean can the axis for time, be the same for physical, emotional, and mental growth ? can it?

I will come back. after dinner.

This is probably just the beginning of an epic ... :) I hope you havent read the other ones before this one :)