Tra la la la
It goes tra la la, my mind, when I walk down the stretch of wonders that connects Kolkata’s shopping district (Esplanade) to it’s office para (Dalhousie)… It really does go tra la la, maybe the fact that I have my earphones plugged in helps…but tra la la it is… For, armed with a Barista take away cup in one hand and bag of dieters’ sandwich in the other, I play the part of the protagonist of this elaborate American soap opera that I have created for myself, and walking down that stretch, surrounded as it is with some of the most impressive colonial structures you will see in India, is the high point of the episode…and it has to be the title sequence-me walking down, unconcerned, attractive and desired, everything that I am not in real life, and the city being itself, chaotic, inquisitive and probing…sigh ...
Eventually, life happens….

Hours

So here I am then, a man in orange kurta, typing out his feelings. Nothing more, nothing less.
And there is the city outside, blazing under the April sun. Nay, throbbing under it. Everything glowing and pulsating-cars, men, women and buildings. No respite, only greater and lesser degree of brightness.
And there you are. My reader. The powerful one. Armed with the discretion to dismiss me, applaud me or simply flip through.
And we all make sense in our own warped way.