Take a bow, Joan Baez

Some things never leave you. They smack of the essence of existence itself. They, in a way, are way above the sign of God.
I still remember the moment when I first heard the voice of Joan Baez. It was a cruise through a galaxy of dazzling stars. Her voice, her ability to hold on to each of the notes, transformed the physicality of sound into something very lively, so lively that it went beyond my understanding of the cycle of nature, it touched the vibrancy of ancient freedom.
This particular post is dedicated to her. Hats off to you my singer, may you remain forever young!

THE PUJAS

September evenings in Calcutta reek of unadulterated nostalgia. Sepia-tinted afternoons often remind me of a small alley, of MM tuitions and of economics! Yes, those evenings had been my angel of angels, my flower of flowers! Incomprehensible microeconomic problems, or a little peeping into the world of a certain Mr Keynes used to excite me like anything, God, how I have been in love with the subject!
Things have changed since then.
 I still love to watch the mad rush of random variables and parameters all over the city, their calculated movements. This autumn will bring forth the memories of yesteryears. The sight and sound of Durga Puja will penetrate me drop by drop. I'll take my refuge inside the frozen traffic of glacial indifference.
I have a strange kind of bond with these four days of absolute madness! They happen to be my nemesis!