Presumptuous

Once in every blue moon,
The piper plays his mystique tune;
His notes have charm, they say,
The piper knows how to catch his prey.

He is young, but not foolish,
His eyes on that one Big Fish;
He puts himself on as bait,
And by the riverside he stands in wait.

He knows that she’d come,
Come what may, she’d come;
His magic had never failed him,
Fulfilling his every desire, each whim.

So the piper keeps playing his tune,
Hoping to find his mistress soon.

But tonight, something was wrong,
Dark it was, it now seemed long;
Midnight was past, but no one came,
The hours were silent, the hours were same.

And the piper, he was but man,
Cursed it all, himself, and his bungled plan;
And as he moved away from that shore,
He heard his tune from the night before.

Had a new piper come to town?
His displeasure was great, so was his frown;
But then the piper smiled, he said with a grin,
Old roots must eventually make way, for Green.

Phew!

Phew!

A month long ordeal finally seems to be at its end. My first project that took me to the depths of the “Share Jungle”, through stocks and shares (and God knows what not!) has finally allowed me to have some grip, some kind of a control. I never knew how much effort I could actually put in (being adept at leading such an effortless life all through my college days) and so it was an exhilarating experience, at breakneck speed. But now most of that is over, so phew!

Also, my French course is over for now. So I shall enjoy some freedom in week-ends. I had been really hard-pressed for time and was very much nervous before my French exam. And the chaos the girls created right before the personal interviews helped lower my mercury a bit more. They ‘ghera-od’ (the term has created its own niche, in context of Jadavpur and Singur) the interviewee as soon as he/she came back from the session and made a whole lot of noise. And ‘yours truly’ had to maintain his calm and focus amidst all that, and ‘yours truly’ truly felt that that was a remarkable job. As for the exam, it was “facile comme bonjour!”(French is a feminist language, for it makes you sound so snobbish!)

August is at its end, and with September autumn comes. Autumn, I’ve cherished always. And autumns have been rewarding. So I wait………

With all due respect...

There are a lot many peculiar things happening around me and yet I’ve been so oblivious! For example, I have known a certain person for quite a long time. This person I’m talking about is a very honest fellow, and very down-to-earth [and god knows I have no intention of defaming him]. Last month he appeared for a lot many interviews; he cracked none. And though it was completely insignificant that I should come to know of the reason, nevertheless I was made aware of it. It had so happened that the man saw it fit to put on a very healthy smile for his passport photograph and had presented the same at the time of interview. And it was one of those unique one-sided sardonic smiles that instantly puts you on your guard, and you refuse having to do anything with one who wears it.
Now I usually dig deep, and here there was a gold mine going to waste! So I intended to pursue this man’s life-story and immediately got to work. And here are some very interesting facts that I learnt:-


In his earlier days in order to get to office, this man had to frequent the ferry. For those living in the outskirts of the big city, this is quite common. And it is also very common that these people who frequent the ferry so, may actually end up late on more than a couple of occasions. So one day he was late. And as he hurried to the shore he saw the launch drifting away. He didn’t have much time, neither to think nor to act. He measured up the distance, pulled up his pants, and then with a war-cry he jumped.
He had over calculated. Not by much though. Infact, he did land on the boat, albeit with one foot. But the momentum had been too overbearing. The people on the shore and in the boat must’ve been very amused to see such a composed ballet act during the tense, busy morning hours. And I am told he had that same smile on his face when he was fished out of the river.


An interesting man has interesting friends, and they will ordinarily indulge in very interesting past-times. So they did. In the post-dinner sessions, they would gather to play cards. And sometimes these sessions would extend a little beyond normal bed hours. It is not so much that they enjoyed the game, but the lot of the one who was to loose. That person would be subject to the whims of the winner, and sometimes, I am told, these whims would extend to be…..well…..whimsical. Now, one day it was time for our dear little fellow to loose, as he lost quite often. And as punishment, he was to draw (for he had a reputation in that aspect of fine arts) a bus. Simple, and uncomplicated. And after an hour long struggle he produced his masterpiece. Now everyone who was fortunate enough to discern that fancy sketch has confessed that it was very genuine. That they have never witnessed so much done with a scrap of paper and a much-chewed-over pencil. The artist had been so witty, that he had been able to produce the front, the top, the bottom, both the sides, and the back of the bus in one 2-dimensional surface, thus putting all his predecessors (artists and engineers alike) to shame. But his ingenuity did not fetch much praise from his peers, and they refused to let it pass as art at all. The world, we all know, is cruel to budding revolutionists. So, he was made to redraw. This time around, however, they were lenient enough to allow him a “Draw-as-you-like” decree.
The man had been an employee with a nut-n-bolt factory then and said that he would draw a nut. Simple, and uncomplicated. He had begun with that same silly smile on his face; after all, for six years now, he’d been seeing nothing but nuts and bolts. But soon, his face began to loose its former luster. Fifteen minutes in, it wore a very cloudy expression. And half-n-hour later he wore a countenance so shocking that his friends had to forcibly wriggle out the paper from within his grasp. I am told, that that piece of paper was preserved for a long time, and that it was brought to public view on many an auspicious occasion. As for the artist, he had yielded completely and begged for the most unpopular of punishments, a mild electric shock, taken in the tongue, and had obliged thus every other time he lost.

Coincidences

Funny thing with coincidences,
They have a story of their own,
How a letter long lost,
Finds its purpose, so near,
At the throw of a stone.
The object of my affection,
Forever elusive, and so untraced,
Finds its way back to me, quite strangely,
And I am at a loss.
Once again I hear the same hum, same drone,
As I stoop to pick up a sovereign,
Right beneath my chair.
What feelings reach me then?
I know not, but I know,
That I am washed up at a familiar shore.
The water here tastes the same,
Only if a little bitter,
They say ‘it’ never tastes the same.
And I am confused once again,
Who to follow?
My love or my shame…