The prejudiced love affair


Bobby and Vincy had just entered the house. And, with their entrance, there arose an overwhelming welcome. The entire clan of Mr. Gupta came hovering in and around them. Bobby in Blue and Vincy in yellow, two timid, fluffy and petite Australian love birds looked around their owners from their cage. Those small curious eyes questioned immense things to the humans, all beyond deciphering. Crackling of voices of the humans seemed like an apocalypse to them.

“Chinky, be gentle kid. They are very delicate.” Said Mr. Gupta

The kids in the house Chinky and Prince were totally inseparable by now. At one moment they would gaze at the birds and at another, they would nudge the entire cage. And if all that wasn’t enough, those consistent pokes by Prince within the cage bars almost questioned the human decorum.

All this chaos wasn’t going unnoticed in Simba’s eyes. Simba, a grown up Labrador of cream color who would wag his tail the moment he would see Mr. Gupta and get cuddled by him. But, today, the owner was busy with the new entrants. Mr. Gupta was entertaining the birds with all his might. Simba from one corner in the room was making a quiet sneak peek at the birds.

“Huh! Those colored cotton balls. Those? What is so interesting about them?” thought Simba.

At the first sight of Mr Gupta in the room, Simba prudently made his way towards him. Tail wagged at its best – To and fro! To and fro! Mr. Gupta all absorbed in birds, gave a forgettable pat on Simba’s back. Uncontended, the canine preferred lying next to Mr. Gupta.

“Chi!Chi!Chi!Chi!” – Bobby and Vincy elevated their voice in chorus and gave some harmless bites to the fingers which were poked inside the cage. It was all love and some more love around.

While, Chinky was all engrossed in feeding grains, prince brought some water. Bobby and Vincy basked in the glory of unexpected attention and care.

Craning his neck behind, Simba tilted his head a little more to inquire the new guests.

“They don’t look like my humans. There is something feathery about them.” – Simba.

Mr. Gupta lifted the cage and placed it on his lap. He brought Simba a little closer and said,” look Simba, our new pets. Look! Look!”

Simba fixed his nose on the cage railings and wondered, “Ah! Look at these cotton balls human! Look at those small eyes!”

Threatened by a giant canine face fixed on the cage, Bobby and Vincy almost predicted catastrophe.

Bobby to Vincy, “Don’t worry honey! It is just another predator. You will be safe.”

Vincy, “Yes! Yes! We will be. We have the humans by our side.”

Staring! And some more unspoken feud! All happened between the three.

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On Chinky and Prince’ insistence, Mrs. Gupta kept the birds in the kids’ room. The night was all calm and cozy. Bobby and Vincy all fluffy and calm by now, embraced each other and kissed till eternity.

The next morning, as Chinky and Prince made way to school, Mrs. Gupta got busy in household chores. While dusting, she said, “Where do you think, we should keep the birds?”

Mr. Gupta unfolding the newspaper, “This isn’t any Herculean task Seema! Keep them anywhere. Probably verandah?”

Mrs. Gupta, “We will hang them with the rope for clothes. What do you say?”

Mr. Gupta while searching for keys at the shelf, “No problem. And I guess Simba isn’t really amused with them. So, keep a distance may be. Let’s meet in the evening. Bye.”

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Mrs. Gupta hung the cage as discussed and placed the cups of water and food respectively inside the cage.

Some wind and some warm sunlight from the holes of their cover – everything was simply perfect for Bobby and Vincy to stay close.

Vincy, “These humans are warm.”

Bobby, “Yea! But I never get that nudging. They move us head to toe.”

Vincy,”Look there comes another human”

Mrs Gupta with a host of wet clothes came to the balcony. She put the cage down on the accented platform and covered it with a piece of cloth. Simba followed from behind.

Sniffing the cage, Simba fallaciously removed the cloth. The sudden strike of direct sunlight left the birds shaken for a moment.

And again, the canine fixed his nose at the cage.

“Look at you cotton balls! You poop that morsel!” assumed Simba.

Mrs. Gupta all jittered at the site, “Simba! Simba! You aren’t supposed to piss there. Come this side Come this side! Or I will whack you.”

Simba steadily made a way to Mrs. Gupta and followed her till downstairs.

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For Bobby and Vincy, the next few days again went beautiful with adoration all around. The kids in the house kept roaming around the cage day and night, feeding them, giving bath and watching them grow. The birds were now equal to a trophy in the vicinity. The kids would call the nearby gang of broods and boast them how their father imported these from Australia. Bobby and Vincy partially amused with the commotion, wanted a shield to protect them from those continuous pushes.

Being centered right in the middle of the Verandah, the entire populace in the locale could see them. Just when the entire world realized them, for the stray cat in the flat, this did not go discreet.  He knew his feast was right here.

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With the passage of time, the honeymoon treatment to these birds was now fading. The cage would remain under direct sunlight at a stretch. Often, the Guptas would forget to feed them. For kids, the pet birds were now just another part of life. The green chili offered to them meant a deliberate trouble. Unfed, mostly they were now.

Simba would easily cross them around, grind his teeth, ogle, and do a little growl.

Bobby and Vincy would squeak a little in protest and then crumple within each other. They felt their days more perilous now.

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As, Mr. Gupta was out on his work and the lady was engulfed in household chores, Simba steadily took a turn to the cage kept at the verandah. The kids were out and it was the ideal time to go nose to nose with the birds.

Simba was all in mood to inquire the birds as they seemed to be guests forever. Popping his head from the half open door, Simba knew the birds were now in his control.

“Ah! You tiny cotton balls! I see, you have been here for a long time now. Let me piss a little!” – growled Simba.

And as he lifted up his leg, Bobby prepared himself to guard the two.

“You treacherous dog, thou want to slay my Vincy, take it lad – here it is eeeeeee haaaaaaaaa!!!!!” There went Bobby flying from up there and then down. All in the cage!

Simba, “Huh! My human is calling.”

Gazing at the startling Bobby’s griping action; Simba took a turn, zigged and zagged his buttocks in haste and went downstairs.

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Petrified by the attack, the birds were now in a perpetual alert mode. But, their dwindling ability made them lesser ready to dissent the next time. Seeking food, they would raise their voice only to attract the stray cat loitering around. The miniature fox intended to seek a way closer to them.

Today, after repetitive efforts, the cat briskly made a narrow entry by the sides of the verandah barricades. The Gupta kin was glued in the TV.

Suddenly, shrieking voice came downstairs. Chinky and Prince ran towards upstairs along with Simba to inquire what went wrong. Horrified and shriveled at the site, the kids came running towards the cage.

Simba chased away the cat – Bobby couldn’t be rescued.

He was by now in the grip of the cat. Vincy remained stagnant in one corner all shivering and shaking.

The cage was brought down and kept near the TV. Heated arguments followed between the Guptas on all the whys? And hows?

The kin decided to keep Vincy nearby and protected. She was living dead. The grains and the cup of water remained stagnant and untouched.

Mr. Gupta, “Birds live together, die together.”

Simba came closer to the cage, fixed his nose at the cage bars again. This time Vincy was frail but fearless. She looked up with pale and waning eyes at the canine. No voice! No chirp anymore!

Simba, “Huh! You cotton balls! I will miss you.”

 

 

 

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Responsibility of UX design in mobile applications


With the emergence of mobile technology, the design has equally become a meaningful aspect. Keeping in easy and apt design gives an exuberant mobile experience. The coming of UX design has engulfed the mobile development in last several years. Have you invested in the user interface yet? If not then get going with the following piece of information.

 

UX stands for user experience. It is a way of increasing the level of user engagement and user loyalty by modifying the usability and the usage. UX relates directly to the pleasure of interaction you are providing to the user. The more pleased is the user, the more is his stay. The UX enables is driving the basis of consumer viral.  

 

With high UX, there is a strong association of strong user engagement leading to successful ROI. At a larger magnitude, UX helps one to maintain high end balance between the venture’s goals and users’ expectations. Few benefits involved in adopting UX designs are:

 

 

  • Realistic project goals
  • Accurate estimates of users
  • Lesser risks
  • Mature user experience

 

 

Complimented by strategic tools, the developers are widely engrossed in raising the bar of user engagement. Looking at the ever rising web and mobile usage, UX design is highly significant. Pace high with technology and invest in the potential of powerful UX design.

 

 

 

The pomp and show


The pomp and show

That takes me high that takes me low

The pomp and show

The more I go up in my job

The more I go low in my monetary whine

Why is my chief such a swine?

The pomp and show

That takes me high that takes me low

I take a stroll through lovely kin

Only to get killed on my will

The pomp and show

That takes me high that takes me low

Good and bad fortune belt me tight

Challenging me to strive at my might

The pomp and show

That takes me high that takes me low

I get swayed in emotions

And run into deep soup

The pomp and show

That takes me high that takes me low

But, here is the rise

The mighty rise

I am winning and I am wise

I value my mirror

My vow

The pomp and show

That takes me high that takes me low

Tagore and me


I was raised in North India where Rabindranath Tagore meant nothing beyond National Anthem. But, no matter whatever the demographics, Bong clans breathe Tagore in and out and mine wasn’t any different. And then when you are a Bong, you are ought to perform on Rabindra Sangeet (prominent music written and composed both by Tagore) once in life. Durga Puja celebrations mostly revolved around Tagore based dance dramatic performances and poetry recitations.

At the same time, school did something equally instrumental as it brought me little more closer to him through syllabus. Among the writers like Guy De Maupassant, Munshi Premchand, Oscar Wilde, I do not why I preferred reading Tagore’s creations more such as Palanquin, Kabuliwala, Guest and more. I realized how incredible could a story teller be and how his charm could go for ages and ages. His compositions remain immortal to this date and are adapted in different forms now and then. If you take a small glimpse at Tollywood (Bengali Cinema), you will find multifarious versions of Tagore music. You can easily feel a blend of folk Bengal music and Hindustani classical music. The blend paves way to several genres that Tagore has covered right from festivals, love to death.

His expressions in romance, fear, humor or anything spoke about the maverick in him. The literature encouraged the human beings to come out of their fears and inhibitions.

You can’t cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water. Rabindranath Tagore

His contribution to the freedom fight and the winning of India’s first Nobel Prize remain like a perennial asset to the country. I remember watching ‘Jeevansmriti’ an autobiography by a prominent filmmaker Rituporno Ghosh. The film shows his inspiration Kadambiri Devi (his sister in law) who influenced him to write a number of literature. From childhood to the time of his death, the autobiography displays different phases of his life.

I wonder why I am connected with him and how? Something tells me, it is in the music that keeps me mesmerized and glued. The tranquil feel keeps me away from the humdrum of life and that constant pricking that destiny does to me religiously. Songs like Mor Bhabnare, Daariyeacho Tumi Aamar, Bhalobeshe Shokhi, and an unending list which goes on my head again and again.

Tagore, you keep me away from this monotony in life from this bedlam, there lies a balmy and serene me. You are there I know, cause thou art my confidant.

 

The story of ‘IT’


Part 1

20 years! 20 long years, Bony vanished without a trace. The toddler was still in the process of realizing the world – no one knows what happened over night. Romila had all the doubts on her husband for the vanishing of their first child. Though, even if the husband was responsible, she was anyway helpless. The patriarchy had little to do with the caged decorum of women in the household. The other son and daughter born after Bony aren’t aware of the vanishing and they lead a very humdrum life. The other members in the clan include a bedridden father-in-law who gazes at the sky from his bed adjacent to the window. He still narrates his stories of his hay days, his family full of Zamindars, the number of lands and how his agricultural roots gave way to his son’s supply chain business of vegetables to the international market.

In the day-to-day gust, Mr Rai is a busy man in his own stride. His export business keeps him demanding around the clock and thus, leaving no time for the wife or children. Money, remains intact and consistent in its flow. No wonder, why aristocracy has come as a default to the family. Amidst all this luxury, forever distressed Romila roams aimlessly in the corridors. Still, the woman ardently follows her duties, tracking the help, a check on daughter’s arrival from college, tea in the evening to the father and she keeps going. She has cried enough with no rescue. Subliminally, the ever clandestine thought of Bony doesn’t seem to eradicate. But, the realm of mundane lifestyle around her doesn’t seem to pause in its movement and give a fraction of thought to what happened? What could have happened? And if ‘it’ is alive yet?

Part 2

It’s 7.30 AM in the morning, thin and frail Vasu is busy washing utensils at the Dhaba. Next in the list of duties involve organizing the tables and chairs, brooming and then peeling the boiled potatoes. The day is going to be as busy as usual. Vasu has been the most loyal help in the Dhaba amongst all. Truck drivers will come and eat before they depart from their further journey. The Dhaba on the highway connecting Andhra Pradesh and Tamil Nadu served a big number of people travelling from far. Vasu’s day goes like a whirl of duties with no time to pause and yes, no holiday. At early twenties with no education, washing dishes, cleaning the dhaba and serving keeps Vasu oblivion to what more life had.

The Dhaba owner, Raghuram is busy counting the notes of hundreds and also, keeping a track on his resources and if they are missing out on any customer’s call.  On the flip side, he had least concern towards Vasu’s fragile health which was steadily becoming serious now.

Part 3

Frequent threats on call to Mr Rai have been keeping him awake in the nights. Romila has been noticing this for some time, though, it could be another work pressure. “I am distressed Romi.” Said Rai. Romila on being unable to respond, as usually Mr Rai never confides his problems in her. A rock solid persona couldn’t get that hit by such a call because his business has born immense pressure in past. And, not many a times Mr Rai shares his issues but this time it seemed serious.

“What is keeping you worried?” Inquired Romi.

“The threats”.

Shocked and shivered, Romila, “From where and why?”

An awkward silence.

“May be my Karma”.

“But what happened?” Asked Romila

“Go to sleep. I will talk tomorrow.” Said Mr. Rai

By any chance, it was not possible for the two to sleep. They remained awake and wordless throughout the night.

Part 3

The day had come to an end, some long distant truck drivers were making their way to their destinations. Washing utensils, piling up the chairs and wailing in the corner remained the job for the day. Vasu was hit harshly by few goons who had come to eat at the Dhaba. They were not happy with the food and the serving. The abuse cauterized all doors to freedom for Vasu and left no word to revolt. There is a deep injury on the chest and the pain was unbearable. No medicines, no first aid but just some cotton to dip in water and apply.

There was nothing left to be done and any recluse to surrender in. Food, shelter, clothing – all were mandatory. It was not the first time when Vasu was thrashed, abused or even sexually molested. The customary mockery on this human race had to happen and Raguram’s cold shoulder wasn’t any surprise.

Raghuram did notice that Vasu’s health was failing with each passing day. He checked out the serious wound on the chest and also, knew that Asthma had already inflicted the body.

Part 4

The abuses were getting uglier with the passing time and Vasu’s age. Hardly, there is a day when there is no exchange of deal between the customers and Raghuram. People want Vasu for everything – for all the pleasures. And that extra money is definitely a delight to Raghuram. Vasu is just not a help at the Dhaba now – that fragile body irrespective of all the deterioration, is in need. Drivers and goons from nearby location were frolicking to the Dhaba just not for the food anymore. It was a cheap deal after all.

It was night and the clouds were pouring in wholesome. No customers came to eat or lay. Raguram was totally drunk and Vasu decided to talk.

Vasu, “I cannot do this anymore. I plead. All the beating and thrashing and and and….spare me.”

Raghuram, “You filthy piece of shit, you stand no chance to live. The world would have thrown you in a pit long ago.”

Vasu, “I beg you, you have kept me all these years. I will be a loyal dog but keep me away from the butchers.”

Raghuram, “When your father threw you here, he did not tell me what to do with you. I got you for a good amount. This time, I know money is going to come some more. But, for that, I do not want this limping figure of yours.”

Vasu, “Father??”

Raghuram passed out.

Silence. In all these years, there was never an utterance of the word. Never. Amidst all the commotion of heavy downpour outside, eyes rushed gallons of tears. A flash of childhood memories passed through the wet eyes. How could Vasu forget the adolescence full of hunger plights, getting bullied and sorting the identity crisis? How getting patted on the back in the name of ‘love’ led to something else? Yes, and that family which came for luncheon, the mother did not let her child go closer to Vasu. Yes that protective mother.

Part 5

Raghuram and Mr Rai sat face to face.

Mr.Rai,”Your calls have been unending. What else now?”

Raghuram, “It is such a delight to see you again after years Mr.Rai, I heard your business is going places now.”

Mr.Rai,”What else do you want now?”

Raghuram, “As if. Your child is with me, that if you remember.”

Mr.Rai,”I think we cleared the deal then and there. Good amount was given to you already.”

Raghuram, “You see, the product you yielded several years ago is getting me some benefits today. But the health concerns are becoming a trouble. I want you to bear the expenditures. And the concerns are serious; I want my business to keep going. As simple as that.”

Mr.Rai,”I have not earned the money to spend on that which I do not own.”

Raghuram, “In that case Mr.Rai, wait for the consequences.”

The heated conversation led to high pitch arguments till Mr.Rai decided to leave the place.

Part 6

“Is ambulance coming?” Screamed Raghuram.

“Yes, they are just minutes away.” Prakash, another help at the Dhaba replied.

Vasu’s eyes were blurry by now. The body was too weak to be lifted by self and by the end of the day, there were already four attacks of Asthama. Past health checkup wasn’t positive and showed negligence in the treatment. Vasu was not given any medicine off late.

“Give some water.” Said Raguram.

“Could I see my father?” A murmur came from Vasu.

This time Raghuram knew that the dead end was here. Mr.Rai should be informed, if something could be done.

A frantic call from Raghuram was mistakenly attended by Romila. Shocked and shriveled, Romi who did not know anything about Vasu was suddenly in a bedlam. She inquired the same to Mr.Rai.

“Come with me.” said Mr.Rai.

“Where?” Romila.

Further, the conversation remained wordless like ever. This time, nothing was left to be done. Nothing anymore.

The couple arrived at the backyard of the small and partially dilapidated quarters of the Dhaba.

“Your eunuch! ‘It’ is sick and dying.” Replied an animated Raghuram.

Vasu’s blurry eyes questioned Romila’s.

“Bony.” Mumbled Romila.

Eyes closed forever.