Showing posts with label Feel Bad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Feel Bad. Show all posts

Tuesday, June 17, 2014

পরবাস

অফিসফেরৎ দরজা খোলে
মিশকালো এক অন্ধকার,
হাতছানি দেয় মদের গেলাস,
সর্বনাশের সমঝদার
।
ফ্রিজের ভিতর একফালি চাঁদ,
পরশুদিনের রান্না
।
বুকের ভিতর গাঢ় বিষাদ
স্মৃতির ভিতর কান্না
।

আমার রাজ্যে আমিই প্রজা,
আমিই আমার অধীশ্বর।
সপ্তাহান্তে গুছিয়ে রাখি
ড্রয়ার, টেবিল, আমার ঘর
।
তোমায় নিয়ে রোজ ভাবিনা,
আমার অতো সময় নেই।
নানান কাজে ব্যস্ত থাকি,
ভুলেও থাকি, অজান্তেই
।


বললে তোমায় বলতে তুমি
অমন আবার হয় নাকি?
আসল প্রেমতো আটকে রাখে,
উড়তে চাওয়া স্রেফ ফাঁকি!
আসলে তো সবাই পালায়,
কে কার বলো খোঁজ রাখে?
সবার ঘরের আলমারিতে
কত্ত রকম লোক থাকে!

তুমিও যাকে বাসছো ভালো
সেও আসলে মানুষ তো?
মাথার ভিতর মুখের মিছিল,
মুখ না মুখোশ, মুখস্থ।
পড়বো কখন কিসের মুখোশ?
এই দোলাচল, চলবে,
এই পরবাস, এ নির্বাসন
নাকি পলায়ন, বলবে?

Thursday, April 07, 2011

Of power and other such cliches...

Let's be very clear about it from the very outset. This is not one of those mushy posts about some obscure affair or nostalgic outpourings of mine. This is as close as it gets to hardcore theory. Probably because I'm on a no nonsense PhD mode, but also because this raises a few questions about the milieu I live in. Days are just mad. Ask any PhD scholar nearing his/her scholarship deadline but seeing no end to the thesis! I don't wish to sound rude, but I know I am. These are the times when you call an idiot an idiot.

Sporting mega-events have a long history. I guess it goes down to the early days of civilization. Documented history will obviously show some Greek competition that finally took shape of the Olympics, but I  suspect it comes from something earlier, more primitive. Hence the involvement of body and bawdy. As man evolved, so did sports. A glimpse of the arena of Computer games and you'll know how cerebral they've become. I can't even install half of them, let alone playing! But the two things that remain constant in games, are the player(s) and the supporters. Even the very cerebral, very solitary ones have their share of supporters. I wonder when and how people decided some will play while the others will watch. I mean, people do a lot of stuff alone or collectively, no body cares. When did sports became spectacle? Is it when some people realized it requires special skills and training to play a game and not everyone has it?

I love Michel Foucault. That man helped me see the power structures inherent in everything. Call me a fanatic or lunatic or whatever you want, I'll still have him on my side. That's exactly his point!

So when some people play and the others watch, there is a clear demarcation, who has agency and who has not. The age-old division between the one who can and the one who can not, those who have it and those who have not. I presume this division is inherent in every sport, every game, every match. There is almost no instance where everyone will play and everyone will win. That's just not the point of any sport. It is, first and foremost the determinant of the victor and the vanquished. Yes, that's just for a time being, but this determining factor is all a game about. Don't get me wrong, I'm not condemning sports. I'm just trying to find out what drives numerous people to engage in a lot of things that may not be part of the game.

Coming back to sporting mega-events, they require something more than just the competition. They require money, they often require involvement of mega-authorities like the State. So here we are, in the 21st century, name a sporting mega-event that does not require the State, the Market and the Media and more often than not, the Religion (that's where the fans belong, for God's sake!) There you go, mega playground of the power. Now if the mega-event happens to be the favorite pass-time of a nation that struggles everyday just to exist, everyone wants a bite of it. Where it is clearly proved that things are not alright, they are not what they should be, mega events like this provides excuse for the mass to feel happy and gives the agencies of power the  opportunity to go unchallenged, unquestioned despite their treacheries.
 
The situation is complicated. On one hand you have the few moments of joy that a battered nation desperately wants to feel (or so they are compelled to think), on the other there are the few skeptics like me, who refuse to believe a nation is more about 11men winning a match and less about 100 people dieing of hunger, lack of treatment or other such issues. Once one of my teachers taught me how internet is not free from any politics, rather it's the new form of politics as it allows detachment and anonymity. Those were early days of internet. It has become bloody complicated these days. I often fail to understand where the boundary of the virtual ends and where reality begins. So when a sporting event of that scale takes place these days, everyone is up there on the net, supporting and cheering their side, expressing their views, abusing the opponents and all that virtuality allows! If it involves nations, make no mistake, nationalism will be on the full swing. It always was. 

What motivates the supporters to feel proud for the team? If you delve deep enough, you'll find pieces of broken egos, humiliated faces, frustrated, defeated lives, struggling for the last drop of hope. Someone to tell them, although they are defeated to the core, someone is fighting their fight, in some form. Sporting events, then clearly are more about warfare and less about fun. Any fun, if involved, is that of  drawing the first blood and chopping the opponent into thin slices, methodically. Have you ever noticed, the two moments when an individual suddenly realizes (s)he is a citizen, who belongs to a nation and has some rights/duties, are the moments of a war or a national sporting event? That explains why skeptics like me are considered nuisance at such moments. Great teachers suddenly become cynical old fools. Great scholars become sexually frustrated weirdos. When someone is fighting hard to keep ones super blown ego intact, with all his/her unconscious exposed and hanging out there like their dirty lingerie, it is evident that there can be only two sides. Either I'm with you, or I should be impaled and burnt alive, nothing in between. At these moments of nationalist ceremonies, skeptics are the reminder of the Real, the constant disturbance in an otherwise happy, bright picture and hence must be offered to the Gods of fanaticism as sacrifice.

So the battle goes on. From Virtual to real and back to virtual. What you think is all in good fun, may feel absolutely disturbing for someone else. Just like you are entitled to your fun, I'm entitled to my disgust. But my disgust irritates you more than your fun disturbs me. There is no innocent fun, not in this late-capitalist, consumerist world. Power does control everything. One of the great success of the agencies of power at such moments is it overshadows your logic and turns you into what it always wanted you to become, One tin soldier.  The moment you abuse the opponent or the skeptic for just being that, you join the army of zombies. In your frantic attempt to annihilate them, you forget, they are exercising the same power of free speech you're so happy about, their argument is equally as important and valid as yours. In our battles of comments and likes and posts and tags we forget, Nation is a virtual category too. So are friends and fans. There are no "real" representatives for you and me. We are what we become, what we choose to become. You see what you choose to see, but that may not be the only version. You do not control this world, it controls you.The sane approach is to accept that. but when was sanity mankind's greatest virtue?


As one national event comes to a super-celebrated end, it gears up for another. The forces that celebrated the 'oh so great' nation, regroups in its fragments. I wished to say, "up your ass, nationalism", but I realize these are the days of multiple subjectivities. The banners will change but the abuses will not, nor will your aspirations to feel like a whole. You stand divided in your humiliations and united in your idiocy. You'll again be happy about some virtual formation that will drain money out of your pocket to make fun of you. And you'll laugh at your humiliation, rejoice, unsuspecting as ever. Skeptics like me will again raise the dirty questions to face more vehement attacks this time, or you'll box us under some virtual category and shut us off your mind. Although you'll know in your mind for certain the glass jar has cracked from top to bottom, but you will not want to see. The friend will again feel bruised, the teacher defeated...




Monday, June 07, 2010

In search of a recipient

Some nights I browse through my contacts list and I don't see a single friend. What did I do to deserve this?

Love and faith has done more damage to the human race than hatred and skepticism was ever capable of.

Also, no one really reads this blog.. I feel there are two things I can do with it, shut it down or may be it's time to actually express things I usually don't because they are too dangerous for language itself...

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Joker

"...Asole joker-er chinhoguli ki ki? Sobai janbe se herow. Se nijeo nishchit thakbe se herow. Tar theke kono threat utsarito hobe na konokaley. Se propose korbe na. Sobbai snatar katle, se pare dnariye thakbe nyala pa cross kore, khali-ga howar sahos nei. Ekta mridu chithi likhbe, dakeo debe, kintu maskhanek bade charline sopate thabra ele borong swasti pabe, noile sei obiswasyo dhon niye tar khoro-basay kon kone rakhto, swechchha-boklos na-boltei golay goliye das-madam natyo shuru korar por obodharito kuthar kobe porto, onek hyapa. Adday se oporiharjo noy, kintu priyo khub. Oi je, prothomei proman kore diyechhe, keu lath khele, se khabe. Se sobar jonne boye ene debe jol, take niyei khnyao-khnyao hasahasi kore dhok gilte giye jokhon kulkuchir moto ento jol chhoriye porbe mejhete, se-i punche nebe mridu hasi osthe mekhe, patta pachhe kotoi na, eto jinis thakte alochonar aykkere moddhikhane tar hablapona, tar kyablagiri, ei tripti-te dogomogo. Take somaje bolbe, khub boddo bhishon bhalomanush..."


"...Se nije balance rakhte pare na, tai tar hate nyasto hoy bhuboner bhar. Running-e se chore porte pareni, line-e dhokar chestao ar kore na gnatiyegnutiye, protijogitar baire dnariye thake onujoghin hasi futiye, dharabahik walk-over deowatai onushilon kore chole, tar bekhappagiri o achabhuyapona nishchoyota peye gechhe, byas, ebar gyandaner license apsei gojiyechhe pechhonpockete. Tar mukhbhorti rong, ekta chokher tolay duto nitol osrubindu anka, jhyakormyakor collar-er opor tar norbore mathay konkra chuler modhyikhane taak, tate progya chokchok korbe na to ki? Hasikanna chhene se tule enechhe chaddi joruri mukto, jibonke reserve bench theke study kore se peye gechhe ei niyomer o foul-er tabot chhoker nikhut samajh, nanga sonyasi jemon guptodhoner sondhan ditey paren obyortho, temon ei hiseb bohirbhutorai tuski mere miliye dite pare bhognagsho o sniribhangar jotiltomo step. Sobhyotar nil-sada kejo routine got-ke ding mere periye jaowar otiloukik moi pagol peyechhe tar osukher doulote, matal peyechhe neshar jore, ar joker peyechhe koutuker habudubu kheliye, tinjonei atmonigroher ticket dekhiye khirkir dor diye ghure eshe ultobagey chand catch korechhe. Joker syayna pagol, swechchha-matal, fole se three-in-one-o bote. Kheurer kholose chironton sach pakhle neowa tar jolbhat, har sondhyer agenda..."

Haha, hoho, hihi o onyanno
Chandril Bhattacharya
Robbar, Songbad Protidin
20 December, 2009

Wednesday, January 27, 2010

The disgusted post

It's not a great feeling for me to post something on my blog after a long time and start it with a disgusted tone. But the fact remains. I can't really 'compose' what I feel right now, but if I don't let it out somehow, it's just killing me. I mean I feel physically ill.
I'm wondering what it means to offer someone something. Something really naive like a gossip session over a cup of coffee or a film that's supposed to hit the screens in a few days. Not that you pick up a random someone and throw a proposal. It's about people you know are likely to enjoy that kind of an experience. Not that I necessarily need a company for such things, but it's always good to have like-minded people for such occasions.
Now the question is, what does it amount to be. When you propose something, anything, to some individual or a group of individuals or an institution, there are two possible answer. It may not always readily opt out to be any one of them, but there is, almost always a chance of negotiation, be it a positive one or a denial. The deal is quite straightforward, I've something to say, you may agree to it, or you may not. Even if you do, we may need to negotiate a few more things. Almost never one does expect an answer that quite clearly is rude, to say the least. But it happens. All of us know that, all of us have faced such situations. My question is, why does it happen?
Clearly one does and does not expect certain things from the other party. Don't give me the crap that expectation is the problem. We all know that, but that doesn't stop any of us from expecting things. So, when you come up with a proposal, you expect both the ends. What you don't expect is the subsidiaries of such outcomes. For example, when a denial comes with a hint of... let me correct myself... with a clear intent of humiliation. As if, there is almost always some sort of an underlined intention to any proposal, that it chooses to hide. I know such things are there but it is not a necessary component every proposal. Some are just dumb enough to be straightforward.
Humiliation as I see it, is the round about way of making one feel guilty of things one has not consciously done. There are things I can not speak of because they lie beyond the domain of language but the feeling is real. At least it feels so.
This post has started sounding like a letter to express personal grudges against people I don't want to intimidate, but if it goes on, take my word for it, I will. Point is I'm fade up of playing the nice guy I'm not and if it hurts you, good for you, I haven't been spared either. You see, you may have been disappointed/disgusted/disoriented for reasons beyond my comprehension, but just because I dropped an sms at the wrong time, doesn't give you the right to humiliate me for no apparent reason. When I feel bad about things, I don't talk to people and tell them I don't want a fight. I believe that's the best way to not hurt each other for reasons that doesn't readily involve both of us. I'm ready to hear, if you have anything against me, come out with it.
Or is it just me, playing the loser? Suffering from all sorts of complex that only jeopardizes my life. Why does it sound like a betrayal every time I offer a friendship to someone. I know it's an insane world out there, but sometimes, humiliation is just the one push that helps one cross the line that marks the abyss of madness! Call me an egotist, or a loser, or insane...
Sincerely, I give a FUCK...