April 3rd

I remember the day
I forgot pain –
knocked out craftily
but rebounced.
I remember the day
I forego bondage –
vowed not to be used
and then declared useless.
I remember the day
I stopped stagnating –
liberated from
self-imposed prison.
felt such a relief!
I remember the day
a long chapter closed –
friends, way too many,
left behind in a blink.
I remember the day
I forgot to look back –
God suddenly opened
a new door.

Me

By the color of my consciousness emerald is green,
ruby turns red.
I open my eyes to the sky-
light flares up
into the east and the west.
glancing at the rose I utter 'beautiful'-
beautiful it becomes.

A philosophy, not a poet's verse, you'll say.
Truth it is I'll reply
hence poetry.
This is my pride,
pride on behalf of the entire mankind.
On man's ego-canvas
the heavenly architect creates his universal art.
The theologist on every breath is reciting silently --
no, no, no-
neither emerald nor ruby, neither light nor rose,
neither me nor you.
On the other hand, the Infinite, who himself prayed
inside man’s limit,
is called “me.”
In the deep of that ‘me’ blend light and darkness,
appears beauty, kindles spirit;
‘no’ suddenly blossoms into ‘yes,’ in illusion’s spell,
in lines and colors, in happiness and despair.

Don’t call it a theory-
Delighted is my mind
in universal-me’s creation bash
with brush in the hand, and color in the palette.

The expert is saying-
The old moon, his smile cruel and clever

Crawling like a death-messenger towards earth’s ribcage.
Someday it will exert the ultimate pull at its mountain and sea;
On the planet will descend a full-page zero
in eternity’s new book,
will engulp the savings of night and day;
Man’s achievement will lose the vanity of immortality,
on its history will smear
the endless night’s soot.
Man’s farewell-bidding eyes
will extract color from earth
Man’s departing-day’s soul
will mop up the flavor.
Power will vibrate from sky to sky,
light will glow nowhere.
In the speechless concert, musicians' fingers will move,
no tune will play.
That day, poetic-less Lord will sit alone
in the blueless sky
with the logic of personality-less existence
Then in the vast universe
far and far away, among the endless, countless worlds and the next
this sound will not echo anywhere-
‘you are beautiful’,
‘I love’.
Will the Lord sit down again to pray
for eons
reciting in the dissolute-evening
‘please speak, please speak’
uttering, ‘say, you are beautiful’,
uttering, ‘say, I love’?

Don't wake me up

Don't wake me up.
Let me sleep a li'l more -
Under the dark canopy of nightsky
I feel comfortable
like a baby in a mother's womb.
Don't wake me up.

I had gazed at the stars
like an ancient mariner who's
hoping dawn will bring
the sight of his beloved.
I had wished upon a shooting star -
no child be homeless without love
no mother with wrenching emptiness.
And then I had fallen asleep.

I dream a better day will come
I dream a better world awaits -
safe, green and without prejudice.
filled with promise and potential.

Don't wake me up.
Let me sleep a li'l more -
Let me enjoy even if it's a dream.

I Sing in Bengali (Ami Banglay Gaan Gai)

I sing in Bengali, I sing of Bengal
I find my groove forever in this Bengal.
I dream in Bengali, in Bengali I compose
Have walked this far on this Bengal's affectionate roads
Bengal's my life's joy, Bengali soul's tune
I see once, I see many a times, I see Bengal's face.

I speak in Bengali, I speak of Bengal
I float in Bengali, laugh in Bengali, I stay awake in Bengal
I exult in Bengali, grieve in Bengali.
Seeing everything, agitated I scream in Bengali
Bengali is my bold slogan, launched bow 'n arrow
I see once, I see many a times, I see Bengal's face

I love in Bengali, I love Bengal
Holding her hands I come to the whole world's folks.
Anything that's great I've humbly embraced
Water from seven seas and 13 rivers flows into Padma and Ganges
Bengal is my thrist-quencher, satiating last sip
I see once, I see many a times, I see Bengal's face.

I sing in Bengali, I sing of Bengal
I find my groove forever in this Bengal
I dream in Bengali, in Bengali I compose
Have walked this far on this Bengal's affectionate roads.
Bengal's my life's joy, Bengali soul's tune
I see once, I see many a times, I see Bengal's face.
I see once, I see many a times, I see Bengal's face.

Note: translated from Bengali. Original work by poet and singer Protul Mokhopadhyay

Without you .com

Without you Amazon will still just be a river
Without you Facebook will create no hi-fever.
Without you Victoria will reveal her no secret
Without you Mr. Gates will create no .net.
Oh yeah without you .com oh yeah
Oh yeah without you .com oh yeah!

Without you Gmail or Hotmail will not deliver
Without you there will be no blogger or Twitter.
Without you Blackberry will stay just a fruit
Without you Yahoo will simply remain a brute.
Oh yeah without you .com oh yeah
Oh yeah without you .com oh yeah!

Lament of a flower-reader

My little, my dear
My precious, my flower.
Summer breeze brought
your smell from the sea -

I sensed you in fullest bloom
I felt all your feelings
I studied you petal by petal

The breeze is no more
You are no more
I am no more.

But for once -
I want to:
Smell you
Feel you
Touch you.
My little, my dear
My precious, my flower.

Embrace

The night is dark
and the stars are bright.
Mid summer breeze whispers
through the oaks,
The stars have come down
to kiss the dark pond.
You lay still in the dead of night -

As I hold you one more time,
in my dreams,
I feel you in my arms.

Galaxy away -

can you feel my embrace?
can you feel my love?

Death of a Poet: in Lorca’s Memory

Two guards in green starched uniform 
drag the poet along – 
The poet asks: why have you chained my hands? 
The two guards answer not; 
both their tongues are removed. 
In unclear twilight, sounds of heavy boots in their feet 
Hard sadness on their faces, 
Red glow of the billboard light in their eyes. 

A clay-tone road goes past the pond
circling the fluorescent bamboo grove –
the post-harvest paddy field is now
a newly created execution ground.
Four more guards stand there with rifles in hand
Thousands of men and women surround them
Someone has come on foot from far off Arhor field
Someone has come blowing the jute mill siren early
Someone has come closing his watch store
Someone has come loading a new film in the camera
Some one has come using a blind man’s cane
The mother hasn’t left her child home
The young man has got his lover with him
An old man is holding on to an even older man’s shoulder
All have come to witness
the killing-scene of a poet.

The poet is tied to a post
He begins to stare at
the fingers of his right hand –
A mole on the pinky, the ring finger ornament-less
The middle one has a slight, sharp pain, the index indicative
The thumb horrible, disfigured –
The poet smiles a bit and
tells one guard, the fingers are clotting,
unchain my hands!
Amidst the howling of a hundred people
the guard is deafened at that moment.

Inside the crowd, a scientist tells a butcher,
As human population on earth increases, count of chicken decreases
A grocer lights a ship-brand bidi and says,
even green chilies aren’t that hot these days!
A cynic utters to himself,
haven’t seen so many bastards together in my father’s life!
A defeated MLA tells a bodybuilder,
having too much nettlerash in my groin these days!
A beggar helps out a peanut-seller with change
A pickpocket’s hand suddenly becomes numb
A wharfinger gets worried with the thought of a flood
A headmistress informs her students:
Plato said. . .
A student hollers at a tall guy,
put your head in your pocket, bro.
One lady tells another lady,
they could have built a gallery over here. . .
One farmer advises a laborer,
can’t you pour pesticide down your wife’s throat?
One man tells another man,
the earth won’t be fertile without bloodshed.
Yet some folks cry out loud, they have brought
the wrong person. wrong man, wrong man!

At blood-red twilight,
there’s moonlight in the west, cloud in the south
An imperiled jackel calls in the bamboo grove
A frail shadow floats like the women’s vanity
on the pond water
few hundred birds chirp in the rattle–like Bokul tree
The poet pulls his eye from the fingers of his hand
to the center of the crowd
The mass takes him from the letters and lines
to the forest
The last light of late fall disappears
in the childhood’s grapefruit tree.
He sees, a bunch of fireflies in the
dark thickening underneath the bridge.
A sudden breeze unsets his hair, he realizes
that rain cloud is coming from the sea
Raising his eyes for the rain
he sees the forest again
independence of every tree in the forest –
A chameleon comes down slowly from the Gub tree
It calls precisely seven times like a watch.
Immediately the six passionate
deaf and dumb guards
raise the rifle in firing position –
As if in the middle there is an abductor
the crowd yell out angrily:
Inkilub zindabad!
The poet’s lips murmur voluntarily:
He whispers in delight
Longlive the revolution!
Freedom comes to man!
Release my shackle!
Looking at so many faces, the poet searches for a man
Looking at the females, he seeks a woman
He finds both
He addresses them in his mind,
Longive the revolution! United man’s and
every individual’s own revolution!

The first bullet goes past his ear –
the way it normally does,
The poet laughs silently,
His chest is torn by the second bullet
The poet as if still unconquered laughs out loud
The third bullet goes through his throat
He quietly says,
I will not die
Wrong, poets are not always seers.
The fourth bullet splits his forehead
The wooden post is crashed by the fifth bullet
The sixth bullet tears the poet’s right hand
placed on the chest into pieces
The poet tumbles to ground
The crowd rushes in to smear themselves in his blood –
The poet hears no sound of rejoice or despair
The moment his blood, brain and marrow hit the ground
rain comes down heavily from the sky
Nobody pays slightest heed
whether the poet’s lips have moved for once
before his last breath.

In fact, his last moment is spent merrily
Looking at his torn hand on the ground he wants to say,
haven’t I said, my hands won’t be tied in shackles!

Nandikar celebrates 50

It is a momentous occasion that a theatre group is celebrating 50 years of existence. In a time where popular culture and media is replacing traditional forms of performing arts, it is a great achievement for Nandikar. I am personally very happy because I have been fortunate enough to know the creative brain behind this group Mr. Rudraprasad Sengupta and few of the leading characters in the group. On this historic day, on their birthday announcement card was a poem by a very famous Bengali poet Subhas Mukhopadhyay with a translation by Swatilekha Sengupta of Ghare Baire (a film by the Indian filmaker Satyajit Ray) fame. I took a humble attempt at doing my own translation. So here it is -

My precious, my jewel,
my dear child,
What would make you happy,
what would you take
this year?

Feed me
a cupful of milk daily
Buy me two earthen toys.

Rather -
Splash a burst of colors
into the sky
And
erasing all evil, spread on the ground
a peaceful world
for unending dreams.

Is Facebook addictive?

Facebook is becoming the latest global obsession. Facebook, and similar social networking sites, are easy to use, fun and provide some cool time-pass options. The countless quizzes are no short of the mindless hours of cable programming. Fan clubs crop up like anything. Events get broadcasted easily. Even the most homebody finds no dearth of social events to fill up his calendar. Suddenly, taking an IQ or personality test doesn't require a professional psychoanalyst and everyone finds his or her network filled with geniuses. So here, in random order, some reasons why I think FB is becoming a viral addiction:

1.FB provides an easy way to stay on top of what's happening on one's “friends” lives, to the extent shared by the friends. People are using FB to connect to long lost friends and catching up on each others life's journey. Who wants to be left out of the loop?

2.Some parents are using FB as a “spyware” to keep a tab on their teenage children. Status, comments and writing on the walls, and announcement like plans to attend X gives much insight into what the kid is upto. Parents beware that sooner or later your smart kids will figure this out and start defriending you, at least on FB.

3.Where else can one read the writing on the wall? Only the party cadres in leftist West Bengal, India can match these writings!

4.Its definitely a forum for self-expression – creative, political, spiritual or non-sense. Not that every one will be an author or a poet in the traditional sense of the words but almost everyone has a story to tell. So for many, the status updates or the notes are ways of practicing that creative side; for some, it is simply a way to stirring a discussion, broadcasting a viewpoint or simply sharing.

5.It provides a basis for narcissism. For those that have the urge to let the world know even when a biobreak is on their mind, what can be a better media (may be Tweeter)? When 'Y likes your status' and comments become a measure of likeability, users have the urge to go back every now and then to see if there is an update to their status. That's where the narcissist obsession kicks in.

6.People with varied interests and limited resource, including time, are finding it easy to explore the net through shared videos and albums.

Getting Ahead - Tips from an Outplacement Firm

What experts think are the best ways for employees to advance in their careers. This is based on a survey of 346 firms and % is the % of responses to each factor. Multi response was allowed.

- acquire or update skills, knowledge and ability 67%
- build and keep in touch with a career network 64% (this is possibly what differentiates those that climb the corporate ladder from those that don't)
- volunteer for challenging and visible opportunities 41% (this is one way to develop skills that may not come from the job you have. if you want strategic planning experience, go volunteer for a not-for-profit that is going through a planning cycle.)
- identify and communicate career goals 34% (it is extremely important that your boss and boss's boss know what you want to do, your goals and aspirations)
- identify and learn from mentors and role models 32% (it is smart to learn from one's own mistakes but it is smarter to learn from other peoples'. Your mentors can help you avoid pitfalls)
- perform your job in an exemplary manner 29% (be the best you can be)
- project a positive professional image 27% (dress not for your current job but for the one you plan to have next)
- learn how to learn from experience 21%

Disclaimer: Source unknown. I was cleaning up the materials that accompanied home after my last day at work and came across a cutting from some magazine. The comments in the parenthesis are mine.

A man in the mirror

A man stands before me with
eyes contradicting one another:

If one shows pain,
the other comps with joy.
If one looks back,
the other pulls forward -
If one draws from the past,
the other paints a future
If one sees a problem,
the other an opportunity.
If the first tries to drag
the second creates an uplift -
If one lacks passion
the other exudes vision
If emptiness befalls on one,
the other sparkles optimism.
If one shows despair
the other beams hope.
If one appears careless, lazy
the other emblems urgency.
If one draws sympathy from folks,
the other encourages them instead.

Against this society's mirror
I see a man. I see me.

The Unemployment Sonnet

It was the morn of a Friday
Out I was shown the way.
They said it was performance
But you know it's all nonsense.
Will the ground beneath now shift?
In what direction will my life drift?
Though it is not quite hopeless
The situation makes me restless.

Once again I enter a job market
marked by high unemployment rate.
Facebook, LinkedIn and all network
Every contact of mine I put to work
Apps, cold calls - all for the one employer
Restless or not it's gonna be a long summer.

Unfinished poem, unfinished painting

On this fine day I was a little restless. Tracy was still in India while I was trying to figure out what to do with my new found status. I changed the Facebook status too many times, too soon. Crystal, my admin assistant at my last place of employment, suggested that I should go out and paint. But of course, in the state of restlessness I was in no mood to paint. Instead, I wrote down these few lines that I called unfinished poem, unfinished painting. Enjoy


The world is my canvas
and nature my pallette -
All I need is a paint brush
and I'm ready to create.
What painting shall I make?
What mastery shall I fake?

I got time and instruction,
and wide a color range -
From periwinkle to crimson,
from moss to sunset orange.
But what image shall I create?
Which memory to recreate?

I remember places I have been
I recollect faces I have seen.
Yet sitting out in the park
Watching, waiting till the dark!
Whose beauty shall I capture?
At what will my brush rapture?

Color convention I often violate
and traditions I do forego.
But, here, I brush a stroke of violet
and add a delicate hint of indigo.Next to blue I drop a green shade
and the moon lends a bright yellow.
Besides the orange I put the red -
and finish an abstract rainbow.

The last few days

A walk in the park
The last rays of the setting sun
vanishes in the wings
of the home-bound flock.

Across from the lake
the trees frame the rising moon –
yellowish white and full.

Another Spring day comes to an end
Rain keeps falling unendingly
droplets on windshield blur my view
as a barge lazes down Mississippi.

The trees quiver in gusty wind.
In saturated twilight
their shapes appear ghostly

Rain pours into the eve
forcing a nip in the air
as another spring day ends.

Calcutta! Oh Calcutta!

Calcutta is my birthplace and a city with which I have ties that only death can severe. I left the city temporarily for college at 18 and for an indefinite duration when I was 24. Since then, I have been returning to my home city, now and then, work and finance permitting. I have been keenly observing the changes in the city. During my trips, I observe a change in attitude, a decline in tolerance and acceptance and, in my humble opinion, a shift from traditional values that I grew up in a middle-class Bengali Calcutta. While not in Cal, I keep in touch with what's happening in the city through the Bengali newspaper Anandabazaar Patrika. Most of the time the news are scary, hinting to the changing values as a function of globalization in a city in pursuit of money. The following lines capture how I interpret the changes that I see, read and hear.

This is not the beloved city I left.
Flyovers, citycenters, 2nd Hooghly bridge -
the city's landscape changes for better -
while compassion and tolerance erode.

A father kills his son,
The wife prays he be hanged.
Neighbours outcast an HIV infected man,
Hospital returns a dying one

An old man is left to die on a footpath -
Passersby oblivious to his gasping.
Life goes on as lives are lost.
Why is everyone turning a blind eye?

Kids don't play outdoor anymore
Homework and cable dictate their lives.
The teachers don't train the mind
The village doesn't raise the child.

No one laments that Nano left Bengal
Too many cars already bring life to a halt.
The traffic cop pockets the bribe as
cars park illegally on a busy street.

Highrises mushroom where kids once played
Ponds fill up by domestic wastes
Landfills now house exotic hotels
And malls spring up everywhere.

Now there is a mall on a factory premise
with elegance and grandeur -
where there is grandeur there is pomp
and with pomp there is temptation

So much so that a young girl from
a decent family leaves a bar with a fat belly pig
with an even fatter purse.
And no eyebrow goes up! not even for once.

On EM Bypass, a beamer takes over a bullock cart
A speeding bus almost kills a man but no one flinches.
People crosses the road wherever convenient
The crossing light blinks out of sheer habit.

Everyone is busy, even the ones jobless.
Everyone is busy doing something or nothing
This is not the city I knew.
This is not my Calcutta.

Taal 2009

Tonight we witnessed a fascinating musical evening at the Harrell Theater in Collierville, Tennessee. It felt like the relieving first rain after a long spell of cultural draught. Very refreshing! A group of local talents, under the banner of MusiPals, took full advantage of the advances in track music technology and didn’t let the audience feel the absence of a live band for a single moment.

For the house-full crowd, it was like soaking in the vast array of songs from Bollywood, interspersed with regional songs. The singers kept the audience enthralled from the very beginning for over two hours. No small feat! It was quite professional and entertaining. The two MC’s threaded through program extremely well, and engaged the audience from the very moment they emerged from behind the curtains. I am observing a very positive trend that IAM functions are becoming increasingly interactive.

Srini’s theatrics was excellent. Tribute to AR Rehman was very thoughtful. Sam was lucid with his sweet inflection and was extremely stage free. We got to witness a classically trained performer in a non-classical setting and, likewise, talent from TV shows in India showing up in our local cultural landscape is very assuring. Vinodh’s outfit was apt for his song and Gopal’s impromptu rendition of Rajnikanth was befitting. Alice appeared to be enjoying the moment and the spotlight to the fullest. Bravo!

Song selection was good; the regional choices definitely showcased the social fabric of India. However, given the multi linguistic format of the evening, I find it a bit surprising that not a single Bengali song made the cut. I am saying this not because I am a Bengali (or may be because I am an Indian Bong), but because of the history of the long connection between Bengalis and Bollywood – Geeta Dutt, SD, RD, Kishore to Shan and Shantanu Moitra (of Parineeta fame). The list is simply too long to ignore. I, for one, was hoping for a Bong Connection there!

"Taal", the rhythm of the beat, definitely got the crowd energized and on its foot. The spontaneity of the audience in going up on stage and showcasing an expression of joy added a different dimension of color to the evening. May be in the future, these dancing talents can be channelized to provide a choreographed performance on stage to augment the entertainment value of the show. With so much of local talents that we have seen during any IAM function, I hope to see a group like Nritya-Mitra emerging soon to perform interpretive dancing to these songs and light up the stage.

The dedication and practice was definitely showing throughout the evening. However, one performer definitely doesn’t belong in this league. Selection should be based on performance and definitely not on the basis of relationship and/or the promise of exchange of favors. Contribution, and not credential, should be the gold standard. This is disrespectful to any paying audience and a disservice to a group that has put in so much of effort. Also, inclusion of artists representing broader India possibly may raise the bar a notch. There were times when absence of a native Hindi speaking male vocalist could be easily felt. I am sure Music Director John has taken notes and will address these few shortcomings in the future shows. We are looking forward to more such enthusiastic performances.

Finally, thanks to IAM for providing a platform to MusiPals.

Love, deception and choice

He said that he loved her
He swore that he cared.
May be he did
Or may be he lied

Thinking all in love is fair,
she let her inhibitions down -
like the unbridled hair
cascading down her gown.

Now that she is pregnant
and he is gone for ever -
Do her naivety we flaunt
or comfort her in despair?

Inside her she hears a voice -
Forced she is to make a choice.
Helpless she feels, she is sad!
Cheated she is, she feels mad!

In name of love, when lovers cheat
Remorse all around in love's defeat.
Straddled with product of love or lust
who now on earth can she trust?

Abol-Tabol (Weird and Random) Thoughts from a Pink Floyd fan

Alone on a mountain -
Vision obscured by clouds
I face the delicate sound of thunder.
Or is it the division bell that I hear?

Searching for a saucerful of secrets
in the land of relics,
I hit the wall guarded by
the piper at the gates of dawn.
"Ummagumma" is the codeword to
the house of the atom-heart mother,
into the dark side of the moon.

Down in the valley -
We are all animals
waiting for the final cut.

But up here at Zabriskie Point -
a momentary lapse of reason
can't meddle the lunatic in my head.
Not on any interstellar overdrive,
'm just marooned but comfortably numb.

Remembering all the early singles
My pulse beats for more.
First, it's psychedelic and space,
then the progressive rock works.
The Pink Floyd sound echoes
from Shine On to A Nice Pair.

As my trip gets into high gear
I wish you were here!!

© Sanjoy Haldar
Blogger's note:
I am a die-hard Pink Floyd fan - here is an attempt to capture the essence of a "trip" by using the band's album titles. Can you identify them? Marooned gave the band its only Grammy.

I titled it Abol-Tabol, Bengali for weird and random, after a famous "nonsense" rhyme book in Bengali by Sukumar Ray, father of the famous Indian film maker Satyajit Ray.

A Kiss

A kiss comes from a far off land
like a migrating bird flying home.
Like a letter sealed with a kiss
from a warrior who's gone too long -
Like a withered leaf drifting in the wind
or a white cloud afloat in the autumn sky.
A kiss comes from a far off land
and fuel's tonight's dreams.

Places I have been

I will try to describe places that I have lived or visited that have left a lasting impression on me. I prefer cities that are close to large water bodies: either beside a river or bay. I prefer a modern city with a rich tradition of art and culture. For vacation, I prefer places where time has come to a halt or places that are steeped deep in history or are situated in a wonderful natural setting.

Calcutta: The city of joy , the city of Sanjoy. Yes, Calcutta, now Kolkata, is my birthplace, city of my childhood, young adulthood, the city where I spent my growing up days. I love the vibration of the city, the passion of the people for politics and poetry. The city is steeped in rich culture. There are theatres, art galleries, museums, literary societies, debate halls, coffee house. There are problems but there is a certain element of dynamism that inspires me.
Kharagpur: I wouldn't be where I am today had I not gone to Kharagpur or KGP as we used to lovingly call it, the home of the Indian Institute of Technology. A small town compared to Calcutta, it claims its position on the world map due to two facts: it has the longest railway station in the world and the institute.
Pondicherry: this is small sea town in the south of India. I went there 25 years back but I can still smell the burning incense sticks in the prayer hall of Sri Aurobindo’s sanctuary. The silence of the place is deeply invigorating.
Shillong: this is a small hill station; capital of a northeastern hilly state in India called the Meghalaya (translated into English means Abode of the Cloud). Needless to say this is the place with the highest annual rainfall recorded in the world. With manicured golf course, small streams and waterfalls, flowers, orchids, lakes, the place is just like a picture.
Darjeeling: (of world famous Darjeeling tea fame) is another hill station as well as a district in the state of West Bengal, India. This is known as the Queen of the Himalayas. Extremely beautiful. I have memories of seeing wild mushrooms growing on the mountainside or waking up early in the morning to go see sunrise brighten up the Himalayas or suddenly experience cloud beneath me over the valley. The hike to the mall, the city centre was interesting. Life was easy, very easy. I am willing to give up a lot to simplify my life once again.

Now coming outside of India, there are 5 cities, not in any specific order that I have enjoyed visiting:
Paris: where tradition and modernism, culture and engineering (Eiffel Tower), art and science have all mingled. I just love this city, its museum and with the river flowing through it. A Chinese friends rightfully translated this from a Chinese poem, "Silently, the Seine runs across Paris, as if a delicate jade hairpin worn by a beautiful woman." Yes, the river is an integral part of the city.
New York: what can I say? The only other city outside Calcutta where I feel at home.
San Francisco: This a city with a different charm. With the Golden Gate Bridge giving the city its distinctive landmark, I love the fisherman's wharf, the tram ride (by the way, Calcutta still has a functional tram network), the art districts, access to the wineries up in the Sonoma county, and excellent food. There is something special about this city.
Montreal: I have never seen a city so clean and never felt so safe. Modern day architecture fits in well with the smooth functioning of the city. They have a parallel city underground to deal with the harsh winter climate.
London: again, I like the architectures, museums, parks. Lots of things to do/see. And then there are the fish and chips.

Continue reading...

Other notable places in my book:
Brugge, Belgium, a quaint little town with canals running through the town, cobbled roads and lace stores.
Lisse, Netherlands, particularly in April-May when the flowers are in bloom. How can I forget the train ride between Amsterdam and the Hague through the carpeted tulip fields?
Den Hag (or the Hague) in the Netherlands. I just loved the access to the North Sea and being able to walk on the 5 Km promenade and see the sunset at 10 clock in the evening
Luxembourg (the most beautiful country I have visited till date)
Quebec City in Canada (a city that has two layers - an upper city and a lower city)
1000 Islands on the border of Canada and US (the water so deep that it has a beautiful blue color)
Sedona (a place so romantic and mystic) in Arizona desert
Sian Kaan a world heritage site in Mexico where I saw sea turtles and a vast expense of the turquoise green Caribbean Sea
Appalachian National Scenic Trail (US's longest marked footpath, at approximately 2,178 miles) this is where I have hiked many a weekends (there are beautiful hidden swimming holes)
The Rhine valley and the Black Forest in Germany
Kashmir (Switzerland of the East) with its Dal Lake, beautiful flower gardens, ski slopes and valley
Taj Mahal or Chichen Itza, monuments in the Seven Wonders list.

I am sure that I have experienced jaw dropping scenes (like I remember one night as I saw the lights coming on in Evian, the famous French Alps town on lake Geneva as darkness fell on the lake or the chalets hanging on the Swiss mountains like pictures pinned on a board, or the monastery where they train St. Bernard rescue dogs up in the Alps in the Swiss-Italy border or watching a light-and-sound show in a 500 year old fort in India or Mexico) but they are skipping my memory right now.
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From the bedroom window

The March snow melts away
the late winter gloom-
The pear tree in the back bursts
into a snow-white bloom.
Pure! Perfect! Pristine!

It's still chilly but
Spring is here for sure.
Birds have returned to my yard this morn -
The Blue Jay, the Robin and the Swallow too
to sing for a little girl like you.
Their incessant chirps fill my heart with joy
A happiness only you can bring!

Soon the daisies will be here -
Filling our gardens far and near.
Aren't they pure and lovely?
They are - just like you.

Blogger's note: this was written for a little girl, my niece, in India who is going to celebrate the first important milestone of her life - Annaprashan or Rice Eating Ceremony after which she will start eating solid food. It is a big part of our tradition and culture.

How to use downtime effectively?

Of course this is no time to think about how to use downtime. Where is the downtime in this time of crisis and survival? This is time to work extra hard/smart to prove one's employmentability.

Actually I was pondering upon this question that came up in one of the monthly leadership meetings of our vice president. Here are my thoughts on some steps one can take during a downtime:

1. Step back and review your work processes
Ask, "How can I do it better, differently?" Then try to improve your work methods.
2. Finish unfinished documentation
This is time to finish all those documentation that you intended to do but never got done.
3. Re-energize
Learn something new. Pick up a new hobby. This is the perfect time to do what Stephen Covey calls "Sharpen the Saw." Prepare yourself for the peak.
4. Evangelize your work, your team
This may not be a bad time to do the networking, make those phone calls. Connect with that associate, reach out tohat colleague that you have been intending. Proactively go out and publicize your team accomplishment.
5. Take that vacation
Plan your vacation during the low time. So, when you come back you are not only energized, if you take time off during a low period, chances are you don't have to catch up with a lot of pending work upon return from break.

International Mother Language Day

Till last week, I had no idea that there is something like an International Mother Language Day and the fact that it had something to do with my mother tongue. UN had declared February 21st as the International Mothers Language Day in the early 90's in honor of the language movement that took place on February 21st of 1952 in Dhaka, Bangladesh, then East Pakistan. Facing the threat that Urdu will replace Bangla (English ethnonym Bengali) as the official and only language of the land, the college students protested and sacrificed their lives to defend the honor of their mother tongue. The sacrifices and the blood shed that took place on that day planted the seed for Bangladesh's eventual independence from Pakistan in 1971.

[It is worth noting here that UN proclaimed 2008 as the International Year of Languages. See the proclamation here.]

Today, I'm even more proud that I said my first words in Bengali. I am proud that I predominantly express my joy, sorrow and feelings in Bengali. Even though I can and do dream in English, I find more comfort in my mother tongue. So, when I got a call from one of my Bangladeshi friends in West Memphis to participate in a cultural program in honor of the language martyrs, I gladly accepted the invitation. It gave me immense pleasure to be able to partake in a special celebration of language.

The function started with a recitation from the Holy Quran followed by a passage from the Bhagavad Gita. It was befitting given the religious makeup of the two Bengal.

I recited Achintya Kumar Sengupta's Poob-Paschim (East-West) which I think is very appropriate for this occasion. During India's independence in 1947, Bengal was partioned by imperial forces into West Bengal (now a state in India) and East Bengal (also known as East Pakistan and now Bangladesh) and, over time, the diction and dream of the people from these two parts drifted apart. The poem reminds the reader that the Bangla language remains the common thread, the invisible glue that binds the people from these two countries. The poem reminds that our rivers carry the same water, our trees provide the same shade, our history and geography are one, our prayers are same, our enemy is common but, most importantly, our language is the same. We are the creator of the invisible friendship band, reflection of each others' souls. Despite the external differences, our feelings are the same, our language is the same. We are one.

You can listen to the recitation of Poob-Paschim recited by Kazi Sabyasachi, son of a famous Bengali poet Kazi Nazrul Islam (who coincidentally has been referenced in this poem.)

Sleepless in Memphis

I have an acute sleep problem. I don't have difficulty falling asleep, my problem is maintaining a quality sleep through the night due to a medical condition called sleep apnea. I use a CPAP to deal with it. Modern innovation in sleep therapy helps me go through the night so I can function the next day.

But then, I do have moments when I have difficulty falling asleep. This runs counter to how people close to me know me; I am known to fall asleep whenever and wherever. But it does happen that I'm up.

The poem in Bengali is about one of those nights when I am up.

© 2009 Sanjoy Haldar

Quotations from Great Minds

I don't remember the source, I think these are from the writings of Swami Vivekananda. I picked them up during a recent trip to India.

- First believe in the world - that there is meaning behind everythng.
- Don't look back, look for infinte energy, infinite enthusiasm, infinite daring, and infinite patience - then alone can great deeds be accomplished.
- Fill the brain with highest thoughts, highest ideals, place them day and night before you, and out of that will come great work
- Desire, ignorance, and inequality - this is the trinity of bondage
- Are great things ever done smoothly? Time, patience and indomitable will must show
- Great work requires great and persistent effort for a long time. Character has to be established through a 1000 stumbles
- A few heart-whole, sincere, and energtic men and women can do more in a year than a mob in a century
- Be a hero. Always say, I have no fear. Tell this to everyone I have no fear
- Perfection comes through selfless work
- Purity, patience and perseverance are the three essentials to success

Places to see before I die

Australia – Ayer’s Rock
Brazil – Iguacu falls
China – Terracota Army, Great
Easter Island
Egypt
French Polynesia – Bora Bora
Germany – Neuschwanstein
Granada
Italy – leaning tower, coliseum,. Sistine chapel
Jordan – Petra
Kenya- Kilimanjaro, Victoria falls
Russia – St. Petersburg – hermitage, Kremlin
Spain – Alhambra
Turkey
Peru – machhupichhu

A Prayer for Anna

Today at work I got a call from Tracy. One of her classmates from the Leadership Academy is going through trying times with his little girl who needs lot of medical attention. She mentioned that there is a benefit concert at a local club called Hi-tone for the little girl Anna and asked if we would be going. I don't know her, I met her dad Zach twice or thrice at different Academy gatherings.

But I am glad that we did. A little prayer can go a long way. There was huge turnout and the bands played beautifully. There was different emotion flowing and there were tear-jerking moments. Standing inside the crowded club, this is what I wrote in prayer for this girl

Tonight the hi-tone resonates
the hope of all wishers -
The music traverses and takes
our collective prayers.
May the spirit of this crowd
bring in a heavenly boon,
Let the little girl
be cured very soon.

We suffer, we feel the pain
Let not this effort go in vain.
As the music wanes into the night
Lord give her the courage to fight.
A day we each here will gladly give
But Lord let little Anna have a long life.

© 2009 Sanjoy Haldar

On Your 2nd Birthday

As time goes by another year
To give you I only have love and tear.

I wish I found the time machine
to fetch for your maa a medicine.
Then travel I must
back right to the past
to stop you from leaving.
But today I pray for your wellbeing!

Today, all sent their special wish
Your absence we badly miss.
From India came a small toy
But missing was the Birthday boy.

We miss you everyday
We miss you even more today
Wherever you are, whatever you do
Know that we will ever love you.

© 2009 Sanjoy Haldar