please find me on my fb notes application for many missed scribbles of mine @sandipani saikia
many thanks!

Eta Tenga Morton

Kali 1 toka khusora nothokat, oti moromere duta tenga morton dile amar Kannu dukani dadaei. Montu hoihobole uri gusi gol, tetia 1 tokat sarita paisilu parle tenga morton...nursery,kg t je ma r pora 1 toka nuluake school najawei, batot singh khurai kini die. Alop godhur totha gombhir bhabona loi ei post tu likhisu, gutei biboron tu dhemali buli noloi jen, tare binomro anurudh. hei adha ghontar pora mukhot loi asu tenga morton, dubuki logai haturisu nostalgic bhabonar monor saporit. Tenga holew, 1 ta tenga morton e ani dibo pare jibon ot mitha mitha smritir juwar, jibon or madhurima aru anondo...matro eta tenga morton jo badal de aapki soch...bhabona bilak bujisejen...

A rendezvous with an evergreen wordsmith

Childhood dreams do come true in adulthood! The urge which surges exponentially while in book fairs to meet the creator of my healthy doses of Uncle Ken, Indian ghosts and numerous stories has been laid to rest on 25th of last month when I along with my friend Binod, set out for Mussoorie in the morning, all the while excited and thrilled for the upcoming rendezvous. Yes, the name is Bond, Ruskin Bond! The evergreen versatile wordsmith who tenders to every age group and keeps them spellbound and forces to pass on his legacy to upcoming generations.

After arriving in the hill station, we proceeded directly to Chander Book Depot to fix an appointment. It was easy and I thanked God. And, as if it was a pilgrimage, we set out on foot to his Ivy cottage in Landour, about four kms of steep trek. The road was closed for taxis due to repairing, but we were happy for the pilgrimage to meet this literary God. Nearing his cottage and while enquiring about him with the locals, he saw us from his window and invited us up. For a moment, when he came up to open the door, I was in disbelief and wasn’t sure whether I was in reality. As expected, his house was neatly stacked up with books and awards and brings out his great passion for literature. He connected well with humility and remarked, “It has been very nice talking to you. I am going to wear this (Gamosa) to the market walk tonight. You may call up on my number sometimes”.

Born in Kasauli, Himachal Pradesh, in 1934, Ruskin Bond grew up in Jamnagar (Gujrat), Dehradun and Shimla. His first novel, Room on the Roof, written when he was seventeen, received the John Llewellyn Rhys memorial Prize in 1957. Since then he has written over three hundred short stories, essays and novellas (including Vagrants in the valley and a flight of pigeons) and more than thirty books for children. He has also published two volumes of autobiography, Scenes from a Writer’s life, which describes his formative years growing up in Anglo-India, and The Lamp is Lit, a collection of essays and episodes from his journal. In 1992, he received the Sahitya Academy award for English writing in India. He was awarded the Padma Shree in 1999. Ruskin Bond lives with his adopted family in Ivy cottage, Mussorie.
Bond, a charmer has charmed filmmakers. A Flight of Pigeons (about an episode during the Indian Rebellion of 1857), the Hindi film Junoon was produced in 1978 by Shashi Kapoor. Ruskin Bond made his maiden foray on the big screen with a cameo role in Vishal Bhardwaj’s film “7 Khoon Maaf”, based on his short story “Susanna’s Seven Husbands”. Bond appears as a Bishop in the movie with Priyanka Chopra, who kills “each of her seven husbands”. Bond had earlier collaborated with him in the film ‘The Blue Umbrella’, also by Vishal Bhardwaj was also based on his story of the same.

What inspired you to write your first novel and follow on?

I used to read a lot. The language attracted me. When you become a voracious reader, these skills pick up on their own. You get to know more and have a good command over language and also can express more. And if you are interested in life around you, that will help you. Your daily life, the people you meet. Occasionally, a short story is a result of spontaneous urge which is often unplanned.

How much of your writings are realistic? Like ‘Uncle Ken’ and ‘the woman on platform 8’?

Yeah. They are pretty realistic, a lot of them are. Maybe based on personal experience or people that i have known. But sometimes, to create story, you need to fictionalize. You see, to bring different characters. Lots of it is semi auto-biographical. Lots of it. There is nothing in my stories that can’t happen, except for the ghost thing (laughs).

What books have most influenced in your life?

Yeah. Lots of writers. Krasev, Barrie, Emily Bronte, Dickens, Somerset Maugham, Mapasa (the French writer), Jacob (the Russian writer)…dozens of them

And if you have to choose one of them as a mentor, whom would you choose?
Not any one of them. It’s a combination.

Do you have to travel much concerning your books?

Not necessarily, travel can certainly bring in new experiences. But there have been many writers who never travelled much. Certain writers like Thomas Hardy, the Bronte sisters didn’t travelled at all. But they were great writers. As long as you put your immediate surroundings, your own life and experience to your work, it will come out successfully.

Do you prepare an outline? And how much do you follow it?
You need a little. At least some outline, not in quite detail. You can deviate a bit but its good to have a plan.

Do you learn anything from writing books?
Don’t learn much. You learn from life itself. The writing is a reflection of your living.

What kind of challenges do you encounter?
Not many challenges. You just have to give it. To have a command of a language, because to write its not just enough to put down your thoughts or feelings but you must do it in words and therefore have a good style and fluency. Command of a language in which you are writing whether English or assamese is very important. This will also help in every aspect of your life, not just as a writer. You may not become a writer and may want to do something else, but if you have a good command of language say English. Then say if you want to be a doctor or an engineer or a technocrat or a businessman, whatever. If you can write well, it will help you. Like in scientific theatre, a thesis, a book on medicine or a business letter. Language will help you. That’s all important. And if you are going to be a story writer, it is of utmost importance.

Any books you have been reading now?
Yeah. I have been reading thrillers, crime novels (laughs).

Any project that you are currently working on?
Yes, just finished one novel and started another. One is called Maharani and the other one is a historical one.

Which character do you like most in your creations?
Uncle Ken, because he is always getting into trouble. So, I can make up stories about him (laughs).

Any advice for budding writers?
First be sure you can write well. Don’t give up easily. Don’t be discouraged, because you will get disappointments. Keep persevering and if you are any good, one day you will be successful.

What are the prospects in this career?
They are better than they used to be. Right now we have more publishers, more people who can read. There are certainly more openings and scope.

What do think the greatest quality that a writer should have?
An understanding of human nature.

How do the Himalayas help you in your writings?
Not much. To write, I am not environment conscious. It is just a part of life.

Do you have any touch with Assamese literature and northeast as a whole?
I meet Assamese people and even Assamese writers, sometimes when they come to Mussoorie. But since I have not really lived in Assam since been there as a small child in Shillong with my father when it was the capital of Assam. So, I can’t comment on what it’s like there now. But certainly, I am aware that a lot of good writing and literature is coming out of Assam. Magazines and literary journals and even in my notice publishers like Penguin and others have been publishing novels and historical collections by Assamese writers. So, it seems it’s in a good healthy condition, at least the literature and arts. This also applies to northeast as a whole. I think there is a general interest in bringing out literature.

What do you think people look for in a book?
Well, some people look for different things. Some are looking for information; others are looking for entertainment or good writing and good story. Sometimes for knowledge, sometimes for improving their own language or literary skills.

Are there any new authors that grasped your interest?
Well, there are so many now coming up. Almost every week, you hear of a new author, new book. So, at the moment, I can’t put my finger on any particular one but there are a number of talented writers coming through.

What advice would you give to people who “run out of creativity” when writing?
Well, if they are patient and they put aside what they are doing and come back to it after a break or in a short interval, freshen their minds, I think they will recover their creativity.

Your best accomplishment till date?
(Laughs) hard to say, but the fact I think, the very fact that i have been able to continue writing for over fifty years and making a living out of it. That gives me some satisfaction.

What is a typical day for you?
Getting up late (laughs). Then hang around and write a little till lunch. After that i take rest up till tea in the evening. Then go out for walks and meet friends. And today I am going to take this (gamosa) with me (laughs).

You are most welcome to Assam sir!
Definitely. In fact, I have been thinking about visiting northeast for a long time.

Ruskin Bond accepts writings in his website and gives advice and support:
www.zenithstar.org
(originally published in enajori.com, November, 2011 issue) 

DUTI POL

Janane tumi?

Modhur duti pol asil heiya

130 second ati hudho

Crysenthemum or dore ronga

Etiyaw hei duti polor smriti..

Torahin akakh

Tothapitu ek asin abegot

Lupto asilu hei duti polot

Madhyom asil durbhakh..

Janane tumi?

Hei duti pollor protitu

Muhurtot tumi

Asila mur kakhote..

Mur dristi eri diu akakholoi

Andhar akakhor arorutu

Dekha paisilu tumar

Sposto protichobi,

Aru tumar bortalapot

Nasi utha

Jasmine ot koiu

Gulopia tumar uthjuri..

Janane tumi?

Hei duti pole dile

Mur jibonok ek abus amez

Ene lagil jen

Duti pol holew

Tumi mur kakh hola..

Janane tumi?

Jodi eti pol bulile

Ek hotika busai

Duti pol hobo kiman??

Tothapitu hei duti pol

Jothesto asil hei khyonot

Janane tumi?

Mathu hei khyon roi juwa hole...

Hei duti polor probhab

Tongalir dore ronga

Etiaw sposto hei smriti..

Janane tumi?

Duti pole dile

Hitor kuwoli phali oha

Suka akhar kiron

Ahi porisil

Mur jibonor ekmatro

Premor bagisat

Rupantit korisil

Ekhon horgyoloi

Janane tumi?

Horgyotkoiu hukhmoi ki??

Karon etiya

Dutiyotu duti pol

Besidur nohoi

Janane tumi

MATHU tumar byostotar pora

DUTI POL ULIAI DIYA MUK...!!

someone somewhere

When I close my eyes
Someone somewhere floats
Amidst my thoughts
I wish I could talk to her
But my lips are motionless
Bereft of words...


Her eyes gleaming
Radiating love in its
Purest crystalline form
Making words shy away
Leaving me expressionless


I looked closely at the alluring pair
Unraveling its mystery...
It spoke of desperation
Straight from the bosom
Sings a melancholy song
Pangs of separation
Creeping its way into the heart
Tearing it apart
Defining love as ruthless,vicious and callous


Moments pass by
Situation abated
Impuissant was I
Hated to see her in pain
So I woke up from my trance
Alleviated from the agonizing throes


But the melancholy music remains
Lingering in my heart
Making her incessant
In my spirit...
...Till death do us apart!!

Life is beautiful

Went to school,
Hoping a glance at you.
Teachers teaching,
Yet my interest was you.
The day you were absent,
I was in the blue.
In an aesthetic style,
Life was beautiful!

Joined college,
Same one as you.
Same course and room,
Just for another glance at you.
In a bonny style,
Life was beautiful!

Come graduation,
And you left me
For a better placed joe.
Crest fallen was I,
The only time
Life was'nt beautiful!

I look back,
Find you and me.
In an empty classroom,
Different seats.
Occasional Glances
The language of hearts.
Life was beautiful!

Back in reality,
I realize you are happy.
No matter,
How far you are
You are the beating
Of my heart.
My light in the dark,
Our reminiscenes,
I will relish forever.
Beautiful life it was!
And will ever be!

A day in KV ONGC,Jorhat

Disclaimer:
All characters appearing in this work are/(are not) fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is (not) purely coincidental

It was one of my beginning days in my new school-KV ONGC,Jorhat.

Venue was class VII classroom. Just arrived after jumping out of the bus. Sometime later a spectacled 75% Big B lookalike entered, took attendance and left. At the time of attendance, a pretty girl –Sonakshi Sahasrabudhhe was standing by the blackboard and smiled at me when my roll number was called out. I just managed to yell- ees ssir!! As flashes of her pretty smile pierced my senses.

Then it was assembly time and our venerated principal started as usual after polishing his specs over his belly (which makes me wonder whether he is polishing his belly or his specs or just showing off his cury belly, lol!) “Pyare baccho Suprabhat!!.....kaal main ek bahut hi accha film dekha-Kabhi Khusi Khabi Gaam, bahut hi accha laga mujhe…ek parivaar ki rista dekhaya jata hai film mein……aap log bhi dekhiye aur kuch sikhiye………..ha aur ek baat, upto class 8,I repeat upto class 8,sabhi larke half pant pehenke ayenge,compulsory hai…Jai Hind!!” Just then I overheard some class 8 seniors beside me murmuring, “Buddha tu kyun nahi pehenta re,boxer mein aana kaal se…”, “…buddhe mein jawani ki bhoot chari hain,marega kab,goa ka beach banake rakha hai school…”

Assembly over, it was time for some social studies. Entered our cherished Mr. Sanjay Kohli Wangchuk Sir, determined for some social welfare service after missing a drop of polio, so that our progenies don’t suffer from the same fate. At that entry time, Kausik (a teacher’s son) was pestering me to exchange my seat with his so that he can sit beside pretty Sonakshi’s group. SKW sir saw us and decided to show amnesty to Kuasik (as colleague’s son), but called me to the blackboard. I was petrified of a nice thrashing or a questionarie about Moguls, but he was innovative and drew a circle of somewhat the size of a 1 paise coin and about 2 inches above my nose’s height. He edicted me to sense it with the tip of my nose for 5 odd minutes. (I was angry as it there was no fault of mine and began thinking some negatives of him…remembered what my classmate Mrinmoi Baruah confided in me that when he first came for registration in school and saw a limping SKW, he took him for a peon for sure and was about to ask him for a registration form!)

“yeh us jamaneki baat hai jab sultan Muhammad bin Tughluq....” SKW proceeded, consistently showing off his bent index finger as a prized possession, “…ayeee kya ho raha hai udhar? ye koi picture nahi chal raha hai,baat maat kar! Bajawunga kan ke niche tab malum parega main kaun hu! (stares for sometime clamping his white teeth in a black background and making some very serious expressions in a modified Dabbang style) “Muhummad bin……”,he continued. I wondered if he was actually a minister at Tughluq’s court.

Then came the library period which was basically meant for gossiping for nautanki fellas like me and some of my friends under the very nose of the unsuspecting ‘choure’ pehelwan Ramnaresh Kumar sir. “Have you ever seen a 5 rupees balloon?”,quipped Riganka. “yeah a perfect 5 rs one”, added his buddy Banta Pilankar who were sitting besides me. Just then Pycraft, as I later got to know his name and seating beside Rigs., blared out “Toi nije ki? Oh sandipani, tumi zoka dekhisa nai zoka??”. Then I realized that balloon was referred to him citing his protruding belly.

Back in classroom was our English period and entered our charming Mrs. Shweta Chaterjee maa’m who conducted a sentence making test and when I was getting it checked when she enquired about my health as I had fainted in the assembly the day before. “wat do ya have for breakfast and tiffin??”,she enquired.

“chappati in breakfast and….”

“maa’m boiled egg,anda!! Eats it by the whole,swallows it maa’m!!”, yelled Riganka,complete with some supportive actions. Mrs. Chaterjee poked out her eyes at him before aiming them at me and I was lost for words. “So you take eggs??” “err eiess..” “Good good have it daily” (Later on ,she often makes sure that I take eggs in my tiffin. Even once in a class 9,she enquired about the same.)

Then came the dreaded subject Hindi and entered Mr. Deepankar Rastogi sir who proceeded to sing some Kabir dohas, “Maala Pherat Jug Bhaya, Mita Na Man Ka Pher Kar Ka Manka Chhor De,Man Ka Manka Pher….”some of us began giggling at his mesmerizing tone “….hey why are you laughing? Dohas are meant for singing not reciting…sandipani tu sudherega nahi!!”. I just could not control myself anymore and led out a small burst of hee hee haha and others joined me. “hey Bhagwan!”,he tapped his forehead and decided to recite instead.

The much awaited last period of drawing arrived and was conducted by a spectacled Mr. Roy sir. He drew a nice young girl’s face in the board and I wondered if it was his daughter. Anyway I began scribbling it down. Glancing at my benchmate’s drawing book, I found him tearing off one of the pages. Closer examination revealed that it was a sketch of Mr. Roy with his big round harry potter specs and with a heading ‘WANTED’ followed by ‘Reward Of 50000$’. I wondered if Mr. Roy was wanted internationally by the US… Sensing my attention was somewhere else, Mr. Roy shouted, “Ayee aisa raasi khichungga ki jibon(life) ka gaadi rukh jayega”. Frightened, I quickly resumed my work.

TONG!TONG!!TONG!!!

That was the last thing i wanted in my ears. I grabbed my bag and dashed out indifferent to Mr. Roy’s “ay rukhja …rukh…” in order to secure a nice window seat in the bus.