Les visages - II

So, continuing from the sudden spiking of anti-Hindutva stupidity last time, I need some refractory cooling before I head off to another of my normal potential lines. So I shall continue with describing the affection among human hearts through sometimes subtle, surely beautiful and sometimes ostentatious display. Oh là là! The French are famous (notorious?) for their romantic ethos all over the world I guess (though they are often mis-attributed, the French kiss is purportedly a British construct while the French fries are la Belge frites from the stratified nation of Belgium), but anyways, there is a notion of romanticism that casts a beautiful spell over the French people and the French cities! Oh the amount of dreaminess that I experience when I think of Paris, even before I was lucky enough to relish an actual physical embrace from her! *blushes*

Anyway, more about the charming evergreen lady that is Paris, later, forward onto public display of affection and the brief exchange of words I have had over it and the questions it has caused me to ask myself. So, I do believe and I am quite sure that I concur with most people when I say so, that the world can always do with a little more of love and a display of such pure soulful feelings should not be unwelcome. 

3. Les personnes oubliex

People forget. As simple as that. Pour example, the well dressed, tall and muscular lad who helped us round by showing us (incorrectly) the way to the correct metro line to take to Lausanne-gare, and whom we accidentally chanced upon again in the streets of La Sarraz where we happen to live for some time now. He is the manager of a shop in the city and also practices muay-thai, a form of martial arts that originated in Asia, but with all the Euro-American-centrism around, gained popularity over the world only after being adopted by the powers that be, i.e. the USA. He spoke with his limited vocabulary about his job, and his practice of martial arts! It felt good to perhaps know a but about someone in this new place, so far away from one's home! But as usual, I expect too much. Language and words, one of the reasons that humans rule the world and beyond, though being singly much weaker than most other species, yet with the power of flexible coordination, able to understand, cooperate and create, nay, understand the world, is something I often crave for and admire. Yet people forget. Loved ones do not talk or sometimes get driven to the terrible thing that is known as monotony - গতানুগতিকতা অনেক প্রাণ নিয়েছে, অচীরেই, অজান্তেই - it is a silent killer that has often unknowingly taken many lives, sometimes without even having to cause any sort of physical harm. But I digress. So, kusti da, as we lovingly started calling him (and who used to be accompanied by a new gorgeous lady every time he used to walk back to his home from the La Sarraz railway station, forgot us. Even as I smiled and waved. The end.

4. L'enthousiasme

One of my happiest memories of Lausanne shall remain that single 10 minute interaction at exactly the same spot that I am sitting in right now. I missed the train on that faithful day too, and this was the exact position on the metal chair, beside the photo-parlour and in front of the large Swiss clock. The only difference was that, the previous one was at 18 hr 17 minutes, while the Sun was large and the heat slightly oppressive, while the current one is at the moment that I lovingly call গোধূলি, the time when the cowherds lead the cow home and the Sun plays now-you-see-me-now-you-don't, behind the Swiss Alps in this case. I was alone and waiting for the Vallorbe-bound train that was evidently late. The flip-boards did not help that much but I could guess from the new addition to the now routine announcement, that *something* had happened to it for 10 minutes. 

A few minutes of thinking aloud (OMG, even Swiss trains are late) led to a soft musical voice saying <<yes the train is late>> from near my left. And unnoticed to my naïvety was a charming young lady who was fiddling with the ubiquitous iPhone in her hands. If I may take some poetic license, her aquiline nose, ending in a sharp tip quite common this side of the Caucasus, as well as her blue Lac Lémanesque eyes that were sparkling with enthusiasm were a perfect embodiment of childish and peaceful beauty, of say, an awakened version of 'Flaming June'. 

Normal conversation ensued, enquiries about each other's nationalities, work, homes et cetera et cetera. She was a web designer, visibly excited about her first job over here in Switzerland, from her home in Burgundy, France (was pleasantly surprised that a young dark-skinned lad from the Orient could have known about obscure French provinces) and was quite passionate about making the best out of her job for an e-commerce website. She charted off a few brand names which I had no idea about and which I jokingly referred to as being known only to girls! She took offense in a cute manner and went on the defensive saying that she didn't know half of them in spite of being a girl herself. And of course the blushes as I congratulated her on her first job, and the final goodbye as her train for Yverdon-les-bains arrived before mine at Renens. (side note : Renens is a beautiful name for a girl, never asked the lady about her name) I'll probably never see her again, but for some reason, I remember a lot about this lady, the enthusiasm of the lady was contagious. She probably reminded me of someone else. My train arrived a little later and I left, the smile having unknowingly transferred from her face to mine.


Next time, on sorrow unknown and embraces...

Les visages - I

One fine April Sunday in the midst of end-sem preparations, my easily distracted mind turned to the history of a language whose history is often neglected, English, through a series of beautiful documentaries by the BBC! I remember telling Anushka and other language aficionados about it and was pleasantly surprised and somewhat jealous at the antiquity of the language as well as the the struggles it went through to survive, against my newer muse, la belle langue, Français! 1066 - a date that was to be etched in my memory, was when the French of Normandy conquered what was then England, and French quickly became the language of the elite of the British Isles. The 'crude, archaic' English tongue was then spoken by the commoners while the aristocracy spoke French, but, unlike in highly class segregated France, the twain interacted and, by the astonishing fluidity of the English tongue, both the different classes of registers were imbibed into English - hence most of French vocabulary would sound like "high brow English" while the more common English words, would be true to its Celtic and Germanic origins.

Cathédralé de Lausanne, P.C. - Aranya Goswami

Whew! So much to introduce the meaning of 'les visages' - the faces - the title of this blog post! Faces ('visage' is the commonly used French term) are but windows to one's soul, but with characteristic haziness, as seen through, say, a stereotypical tinted glass in a European church. ( perfect opportunity to showcase the beauty of the Cathédralé de Lausanne or the Cathedral of Lausanne that I was lucky enough to see at the wee hours of the evening of my first weekends in the laps of la Suisse! ) The faces and the people that I have observed, sometimes willingly, sometimes not so, over the few weeks I have been here in Europe, my first time west of Gujarat, have been astounding. 

The following few posts will be about the people, often unnamed, sometimes offering a fleeting glance, sometimes a lingering stare, sometimes a sudden momentary glimpse into their lives and their souls, a few words, a haunting smile, a musical note of refreshing sound - oh là là, sonner, mon ami, j'adore vous et votre beauté! Sound and language and the power of this incredibly human facility of language has endlessly fascinated me ( ভূবন হল বাঙময়! - the point of time when people began to speak is something I often perceive as a turning point in the history of mankind and hence in the history of the universe in itself!) And your face, your visage, your tongue, your nose, your eyes, your eyebrows and forehead, all have their own way to express your feelings. These posts are about those feelings.

1. La poutoulle! -  One of the first things that does hit one in the eye when one enters Europe in general and Switzerland in particular (for a man especially) are the members of le deuxième sexe, as Simone de Beauvoir puts it. It is evident that there are far more members of the fairer sex out on the streets in these nations that what one would commonly get to see in India. Add to that the general Pavlovian conditioning that many people from my nation have towards the literary fairer sex, it would be difficult to ignore the physical beauty, enhanced by evidently careful grooming and fashionable dressing senses! There were people whose beautiful facial features would have us name them "পুতুল" in Bengali, transliterated to la poutoulle in French for they seemed to be crafted carefully by an expert craftsman! One such lady was la poutoulle herself, whom we saw on the first sojourn from La Sarraz to l'EPFL on the bus at Cossonay-Penthalaz. We were yet to become acclimatized to the equality in numbers of the sexes out on the streets and la poutoulle was the first beautiful human being to catch our lucky eyes! Her face seemed carved of fromage de la vie, literally, the cheese of life, the aquiline nose drawn with the French curves of Feynman and her blue eyes reflective of Lac Léman (Lake Geneva). In spite of all this however, her face was not exactly happy missing the warmth that I would have liked, the rosiness of la rosa blanche (the white rose) that I love so much. There were other occasions we would meet her, but this was our first meeting with a beautiful European lady and this I shall not forget even as I move ahead on my Tagoreoid journey to understand the good of the culture here and try to imbibe its best. However, her charm would soon wear off like the fading light through a tinted glass, unless it had more stories to tell. She evidently had, but we were not lucky enough to find it out, Brandonoid. We would grow out of la poutoulle soon enough to not give even a cursory glance during future meetings.

2. Les couples! - Now, my English speaking friends, do not go about finding any connotations of sexual orientation in the title of this sub-part, for I assure you it is not pronounced like you mean it to. PDA is quite prominent in Europe and not frowned upon, as in India. One may find a lot of initial reactions on being exposed to this change - incredulity, perversion, stupidity, le hyalou(!), disgust, cringeworthiness etc. But on giving a thoughtful amount of time thinking over it, one does realize, that after all, the world can always, always do with a little more of love and expressing it without any fear of social backlash or literal backlashes from the so-called keepers of public morality, as the 'conservatives and self-proclaimed protectors of Indian culture' claim to be. Not interfering too much in how people choose to express love is one of the virtues that the façade of Indian culture needs to adopt. If there is an Indian culture, it is one of tolerance and openness to ideas, debate, truth and love, an imbibing of the best of many worlds, devoid of narrow-minded xenophobia and jingoistic fervour, unlike the so called Hindutva fanatics that 'represent' India today. I doubt any of them understands the beauty of a lover with teary eyes kissing the love of his life goodbye on a misty Saturday night at Lausanne station as the train chugs off towards Paris, through Genève. I guessed she was leaving for a tour in the French countryside to meet friends or family, or maybe to a conference in Paris or Lyon or Grenoble, or maybe off to London across the English channel, but the holding of hands and a passionate embrace as the train leaves the station; the whirring of the split-flap display announcing the next train to leave voie nombre cinq (5) and the strange knot I myself feel in my hearts - is a very human feeling that one can only love and observe.






Next up - the people who remember and the people who forget, one's first employment, and French tears!

Indo-European Winter Academy 2014

So the week of 3rd-9th December saw me charting unknown territory with the Indo-European 
Academy 2014, organized at IIT Kanpur, with 7 IITs (Kanpur, Kharagpur, Bombay, Delhi, Madras, Roorkee and Guwahati), FAU Erlangen-Nurnberg and KTH Stockholm. I'd summarise what all I learnt in a few points below, in no particular order!

I am capable of giving a 50 minute lecture and boring people including a German professor! Thank you though Prof. Greiner for sitting through it!

I am capable of talking about something I just learned some time ago from a few geniuses - Prof. Suman Chakraborty and the great Aniruddhe, Rishav and Johnny of IIT Kharagpur.

We truly live in not only Nakhlistan-e-Kanpur, but in Jannat-e-Vidyalaya. We enjoy, at IIT Kanpur, a freedom that we do not appreciate.

The world is not so big after all - you can find, halfway across the world, a person with a similar background and research interest as yours, as well as someone who is someone else's sister's boyfriend's brother, whom you resemble!

There is a difference between bubbles and droplets! (courtesy Ishwar Kapoor)

There is hope in the world, for there are a large number of academically motivated students to move her forward!

Computation is ubiquitous in life.

Chomsky was right about the universality of syntax - our guide at Lucknow Bada Imambara competely head-over-heel-ed the Queen's English in syntax, but could get the semantics through.

The Campus Restaurant as well as Sargam caterers have wonderful cooks!

The market road in Lucknow resembles Connaught Place and Park Street!

Mayawati is extremely narcissistic. 

The Germans are extremely efficient in whatever they do!

The normal pace at which most Indians speak English is too fast for non-English speaking Europeans.

The National Wind Tunnel Facility (which Abhilash lovingly named the National WTF) is quite big and inspiring if you sit near its main fan.

Ray tracing gives wonderful transparency-controlled images.

Experience does not deliver good lectures, class does.

The Faltering Optimist

As someone who is naturally interested in politics and also academics, but is also a somewhat chhaposha Bangali (typically timid Bengali) the recent events have disturbed me.

I always wished to be an academician. A researcher with powers to look over and build a research university that the world would be proud of. Vannevar Bush, PK Kelkar, PC Mahalanabis - an academician at a proper full-fledged university. Where a student majoring in biology can discuss the national budget with a student of political science with an economist looking over and a computer scientist butting in, over a cup of coffee, is my ideal campus. However, the presence of political parties/unions in campuses is something that has always nagged me as a thorn on my side. The student community should be politically aware but I could not get why student unions should adhere to a party and influence things like admissions. I held them responsible for the decline of healthy academics in my native Bengal. 

I liked the system at IIT Kanpur. Students contested based not on parties. They were individuals. How far this is useful and active is debatable, but at least it helped at times in representing the campus junta and also did not hamper things like admission and didn't organize gheraos etc.

So it was with some bewilderment and slight contempt due to political unions that I looked at movements at the institutes close to every Calcuttan's heart - JU and Presidency. And this was the mindset I started with when at late night, Wednesday, I saw a video posted on Facebook.

I initially thought it was something where the union planned to get demands through. But what I saw was something that shocked me. My friends were getting beaten. By the state and the city police, the khaki of the West Bengal police, the white of the Kolkata police raining blows on students - girls and boys alike. Without any attack on them. This alone, without any knowledge of the reason for the sit-out, is condemnable. 

But then I read about the events leading to the showdown. I quote from two of my friends whom I trust:

• On 28th August, a girl from the History Department of Jadavpur University was allegedly molested by men inside the boys' hostel of JU main campus. Her male friend was beaten.
• The students of JU decided to hold a general body meeting following the incident and decide on a course of action.
• The demands were to order an impartial investigation to ensure justice. A committee already formed was allegedly partial.
• Protests and sit ins were completely peaceful.
• The Vice Chancellor was allegedly indifferent and wished to not converse with students.
• On the 16th, a gherao was organized, which was peaceful and no staff members were denied entry/exit.
• At about 0200 hours, IST, 17th, police and certain people in civil dresses attacked demonstrators to extract the Vice Chancellor from the University while beating up the students. Male policemen attacked female and male students. Lights were put off.
• Many students were hospitalized and arrested
• Students organized a peaceful rally on the following day in protest.

I do not know whether this was the correct way to go about demanding justice for the shameful event of August. I do not want to. It was a valid and legal method though. However, I do not get how anything can justify unprovoked attack on unarmed students. This is mainly what has got not only the people of Calcutta, but students over the nation, angry. And this has made me sad. More so after the despair in the voice of my parents and some friends who said: "It's good you are out of Bengal" Something inside me cried when I heard that. Why should I be? Is Bengal a hell-hole now? Am I escapist as I am in Kanpur right now? Am I doing injustice to my academic love if I take this too seriously? Is anything going to come out of it. The innate optimist in me was faltering.

'Twas some of my friends who however got me to clear out my confused self. Archish, thank you. And I also thank my romantic melodramatic self which started imagining how Kanpur had strong links with Bengal - Jogesh Chatterjee & Jadugopal Mukherjee of Calcutta, Sachindranath Sanyal of Benares had formed the HSRA with Bhagat Singh and Ram Prasad Bismil at Kanpur; the MP of Kanpur for twenty years was a Bengali from Calcutta - SM Banerjee; and how Rashbehari Basu-oid, a better Bengal, rather, a better India could be thought of from outside the nation. I also thank my friends for reminding me how this is something for the entire student community of India and beyond, not just Bengal. This is also something I would like to emphasize for my friends here who think this won't cut cake with the junta here.

So, certain takeaways and requests from this confused venting:

• The 'movement' does not have political overtones, just a demonstration against injustice.
• Let us hope justice for the girl who was mistreated does not get overshadowed.
• I request all to keep restraint on language. Already your non-violent tactics have impressed me, I am sure sarcasm and other art forms are much more evocative and expressive.
• Let's not get academics affected, that would only justify the people against you.
• For many, let us not discuss the political and social culture of JU now? I believe it is out of the context.
• Umm... I know I might face flak for this, but let's keep road blockages out? Would appreciate it. No, I don't have an alternative.
• I believe people at IIT Kanpur, which too has an old history of student movements (not there now, good in a way, will talk about that later) are with you too! This post is a personal opinion of mine, but I can say that my friends at IITK are gearing up to show their support which all would get to know of soon.

Guldasta-e-Anubhuti - A bouquet of experiences!

Things I learnt during the 3-odd months of the summers of 2014, in no particular order:

• The world and nature runs overwhelmingly due to randomness and stochasticity - scary.
  
  
• Of the famous Lennard-Jones Potential, Lennard-Jones is a single person and not two people!
  
  
• Something special happened in the Bengal region in the 1860's and later - some great people were coincidentally born at that time - Tagore, Prafulla Roy, Jagadish Bose, Vivekananda etc. And their students' generation - Satyendranath Bose, PC Mahalanabis, Gyanchandra Ghosh etc.
  
  
• On Mahalanabis - he had an uncanny eye for talent and for getting the greats of the world - Norbert Wiener, Satyendranath Bose, JBS Haldane, RA Fischer, AN Kolmogorov - to come and don dhotis and work at ISI Calcutta.
  
  
• Further on Mahalanabis - he courted his wife-to-be, Nirmal Kumari Mahalanabis, for seven years; took the unpublished works of Tagore's Lipika, overnight from Shantiniketan to Kolkata to read to his ailing lady love (height of romanticism - this was 1900's); rebelled against Nirmal Kumari's father for their marriage (presided over by Tagore); maintained an extensive bibliography of Tagore's works (authoritative); wrote a treatise on Brahmo Samaj marriages etc .(more on him in another post)
• The buses of Calcutta can kill anyone any day - got almost killed one day!
• Songs, especially of Tagore, which I am coming to love more and more with each loop of play, have a strange effect of feeling and understanding me!
• Travelling alone can teach you words of Tamil, Kannada, misconceptions about certain cultures, ways of handling money, finding cheap transport, making new friends and learning to appreciate the small things in life!
• The nation is in the safe hands of a large number of enthusiastic researchers - my colleagues!
• I tend to procrastinate at the slightest opportunity, work madly when I can and can successfully experiment with food!
• It is possible to travel from ISI Kolkata to Shyambazar via a jittery bus and take the Metro to Park Street, a distance of 14 km, just to have the fantastic rolls from the shop jutting out of the historic old building of the Asiatic Society!
• Bladderworts (Utricularia sp) close their insect-trapping chambers at breathtaking speeds! We're talking microseconds over here!
• It's easy to break WAP WiFi security and many still use this outdated security measure!
  
• Talking with people, especially like-minded ones, is fantastic!
• North Calcutta, I love you despite the filth; there is history at each step!
• South Calcutta, I miss you while in the historic far north!
• Research is frustrating but O what would one not give for the moment of epiphany! Saw a guy solve an open problem in Computational Geometry sitting in the same lab as me!
• Language is a wonderful thing - the day we went bangmay must have been wonderful!
• There are mixtures of nice guys and dusht guys everywhere! A guy took me from Yelahanka New Town in Bangalore to the city bus station for free while the taxi from the bus to the airport duped me!
• Weather of Bangalore, I love you!
• I can make anything interest me if I try long enough!
• People in general are so talented and great! I regret not talking to more people (and hence be in awe of them) earlier! Multi-talented geniuses they are - some great athletes cum authors cum academicians all in one; some great researchers with mind-numbing talent in literary fields as well as courage to learn from!
• Forests of Bhutan, I love you!
• The calming effect of the Buddha, I love you too, and my mother needn't worry, I am not going to abandon samsar-moha.
• Some things and some people have unknowingly come to mean a lot in my life!
• Staying alone for some time in an academic campus and contemplating life in general gives an unknown meaning to life.
• Kanpur, I miss you too! You are so beautiful too in whatever way you are, whatever anyone else might say!
• I love composing letters, but can't complete or post them!
• Academia, I love you!

Letters to the Dark Lady - I

Starting with this post, I intend to start writing a series of letters. I have often felt that writing letters is a lost art, which I wanted to revive. Maybe the medium might change, but the emotion, the ethos, the excitement should not. However, the only time I have gotten around to writing any letter to anyone is an inland letter card back home from Kanpur that took 3 months to reach and got my mother all worried because the Bengali was too flowery, emotional and philosophical. So here is an attempt to address my Calcutta. I hope her history, her beauty, her feelings and my own views and ideology come through. I am simultaneously writing this in Bengali as well, if anyone wishes to read it. Hence, it will have Bengali motifs and words scattered throughout with explanations if and when necessary.

My Tilottama-nagari(*),

This might even not reach you, ever, for I am shy and too sentimental. You might know that I have been too sentimental since childhood, as many have said, but sorry, please ignore me as I blabber too much about myself. This letter is to you; for you. You, whom I have observed from afar, from close, in silence and in reverence. But alas, I have rarely given too much, if any, importance to you when you were close by. At the bottom of my heart, I guess I always knew you were special, but it is only when I went far from you, physically, that I realized what you meant. Old Tagore rhetoric; you remember, our Rabi Babu had said - you travel far to see the Himalayas, and ignore the drop of dew on a paddy blade two steps from your front door? Huh! True that, wasn't it said that you only realize the worth of something when you lose it. Oh! Please don't read that, why should such words even come out of my pen - I cannot ever imagine losing you. I cannot, I cannot, I cannot. 

You smile, I guess, at my insecure sentimentality - if so, that is reward enough for me, to be the cause of a smile on your face. For too many days have I seen you melancholic, helpless to do anything for it. I feel guilty to not have been able to do anything of substance. What could I have done? I watched in silence with tears streaming down my face and sighs escaping from my mouth, as you were neglected, maimed, looked down upon. My innards were shattered as I longed to be close to you, listen to your whispers and your tales of banchana (neglect), but I could not. I know not why, fear of society or fear, not fear, but fierce admiration, I guess, of you. I could hear your silent sobs, feel those streaks on your cheeks, but do nothing. But, might I confess something? Even your silent sobs sound melodious to me. Even with the painful lump crunching my heart at the sight of you unhappy, my subconscious cannot help but admire your innate beauty even when you are standing at the corner, elokeshi, your dark tresses - the envy of the night, and your eyes, moist and drooping down, having all the purety of the Ganga flowing past you.

I was shell-shocked when your sisters looked down upon you at these times with high-nosed contempt. They say you have not grown up, not modernized. They ridicule your complexion; your rough hands, worn from bearing the brunt of the family for so long; your love of the classical music; your embrace of all that seek solace in your bosom; your love of truth, honesty and justice.  I cannot understand, my dark lady, how your complexion can be ridiculed! My kalo meye, forget not the solace we find in Goddess Shyama, the trust and affection our shyamla baron Bangla Ma gets, how our Bard has sung in praise of the kalo-horin-chokh (dark doe-eyes) of our Krishnakali! People who have not gazed into your dark iris, or had a chance to admire your tresses (peace be upon them) know not what they are missing out on, forgive them! They know not the beauties of nishi (the night) that I worship aharnishi! (day and night)

See, I have digressed again from the point I wanted to mention way back at the beginning of my letter. I wonder if you have noticed my absence, for I have moved elsewhere, upstream from the Ganga that flows by you. I hope you are not envious or jealous (it would be my supreme luck and honour if you even for a fleeting moment feel even something for this insignificant soul over here) - the lady I find here is, too, a sad and neglected one, she too is beautiful in her own way. I can almost feel your mischievous smile as you plan on ways to pester me, but let me reiterate, as always, the depth of knowledge, the ideology, the natural beauty that you have been bestowed upon have made me feel almost all other creations to be hollow; you are the closest to perfection one can get, you are Poetry herself! *sigh*

Being away from you has made me realize what you mean to me. I realize I had taken you for granted. So many times have I sniffed to expect that fragrance of flowers near the Mallick Ghat, called to expect the loving voice of Ma calling back, searched in vain for the streams near Dakshineswar to cafune, strolled, expecting to catch a glimpse of playful you in your breathtaking sari. But it was not to be. How do I describe how I feel now? As usual, Gurudeb comes in to feed words to my empty soul, at a loss for sound -যার লাগি ফিরি একা একা-- আঁখি পিপাসিত, নাহি দেখা,...এই হিয়াভরা বেদনাতে, বারি-ছলোছলো আঁখিপাতে!  (For whom I wonder alone - my eyes pine in thirst, but I find not you to satiate it,...My life is filled with pain, teardrops glistening on the borders of my eyes!) But don't you worry, I shall keep talking to you, may be onesided, maybe an example of la doleur exquise, but speak I will.

Iti,

Itihin (that which has no end)

*Tilottama - one whose smallest particle is the finest - Calcutta has often been called this by popular media.

A Scandal in Bovindia

This was written way back in March, 2013 for something in college. A recent post by Anuvab reminded me of it. So here it is, hope everyone understands it is all in good humour. And yes, the turns might be abrupt, it was written with a space and time limit.

The Times of Bovindia, May 15, 2014 : The ceremonious acceptance and coming into effect of the new Constitution of Bovindia was concluded with much pomp and grandeur in the newly fashioned capital city of Pasturena, Bihar. Prime Minister Gavendra Moodi and his cabinet were present along with the Chief Ministers of all constituent states. The Prime Minister reiterated his dedication to the cause of bovine freedom and protection of bovine rights in the Psovereign, Psocialist, Psecular Democratic Republic of Bovindia.

July 23rd, 2014 

Dear Diary,

Today, I witnessed another renaming of this highly unfortunate city of mine. But it is closer to the old name, which I was quite fond of. Let us see what is in store for Calcattle... Already the winds of change are losing the sharpness of their teeth. They bite less and leave no marks nowadays. Moodame Moomoota is all enthusiastic about her new position, having totally forgotten about the oath she had taken. She is theoretically ready to work with all humans in the state but fears all humans to be dreaded Mooists. Already, the ranks of the political prisoners under her regime have swelled, and dung is being generated at record rates to prepare more fortified prisons. She has quite readily taken to the new central infrastructural policy, it seems! The Rashtrapati Bhavan in Pasterna, or rather Rashtrapati Bovine as it is called, has been encapsulated in layers of this new material. God, the aroma that wafts in through the windows nowadays... I shudder to think about the situation in Uddar Pradesh, especially Cownpore, ha!

August 15th, 2014

Dear Diary,

I have to keep this secret! You're the only one I can truly confide in. BIT (B does not stand for Birla, by the way) Cownpore has changed a lot. (So has Cownpore, with biogas reducing the power shortage in the city!) Not that it was unexpected. It is in the cow belt now. With the possession of all artillery and complete control of the military, the bovine forces have even penetrated the temples of education! With STIRK guards patrolling the area 24X7, it is becoming well nigh impossible to get any sort of freedom. And let's not even talk about the compulsory DairyTech course! Anyways it feels strange to not sing Jana Gana Mana today, having been replaced by the new Nandi Gava Moona anthem. The price of all bovine products has predictably shot up, and all non-vegetarian food is obviously banned by state policy. The "divine" buffalo Buff. Yadav is trying his best to reconcile the differences created by the centre. But who wants free Chew-Your-Own-Cud self-help e-books when basic rights to us humans are being denied? The compulsory dung-layering service to be rendered after graduation - how can that be kept running in the state? Anyways, got to run now, MOO200 classes!

The Times of Bovindia, November 1, 2014: Brewing discontent towards the Central Government at Pasterna broke out today here at Heiferabad with the cows and buffaloes demanding proper recognition of their language and culture. They follow spontaneous demonstrations against the Government in parts of Buffaleswar, Calfennai and Calcattle, where the common cattle were also joined by the humans against the policies of veganism and enforcing Hindimoo on the people.... Police have also managed to capture the head of the Dung Mufia, who were forcing common humans to lay excess dung in the sun. The sudden change in the power laws have got everyone in a frenzy, with the mantle of power shifting from the natural fuels to more bovine means. This rare success for the BPS has reportedly come with external help from ex-IPS officers employed as hayfeeders in the luxurious ranches of the officers.

December 15th, 2014

Dear Diary,

I have to admit I did not expect it to end this way. A scandal toppling a government, that too, a military power with all reigns of administration! I guess revolution has its ways of getting around things. With the shortest and easiest transfer of power in history, unlike the ones currently going on in the Amooricas and Heurope, Bovindia has returned to its status quo - back to free India - and all because of that one vegetable worrying us all last time we were free! The clandestine consumption of onion, banned also under the vegan government, by top officials at the Centre got us all up in flames. I've never seen Bovindian cows so united! And all to their own doom. The resignation of Defence Minister Antoned and the assassination of General Milkkha in broad daylight on the streets on Moombai by human supported cart-gangs did the trick I guess. Or maybe, it was being planned all along by the rebels. We are no strangers to such activities, I was wondering how the underground activists are not getting their plans through! We can finally heave a sigh of relief as normal "human" life resumes. A few months of misadministration by the newly awakened bovine powers here really showed us what we has taken for granted and what we were doing wrong, eh? I'm guessing it is from us that these guys got the idea in the first place, renaming and sops, favoritism, forcing ideas, etc. It was a really bad boomerang experience I guess. But we needed it. Anyways, we now have a new holiday, the 10th of December, new Independence!

The Times of India, January 21st, 2015: The former Prime Minister Mr. Gavendra Modi was found dead in his apartment in Anand last morning. Apparently, his hay had been streaked with strychnine. He had been under house arrest since before the fall of the Bovindian Government. Police have categorically ruled out any possibility of foul play. It is suspected he took the strychnin straws by mistake. Coincidentally, Moodame Moomoota also suffered a fatal heart attack in Kolkata while being treated for megalomonia in a reputed mental institute. Unable to bear the news of the death of his cud-chewing friend, Ummen Chewndhay committed suicide in Kerala by jumping into a well. The Prime Minister has expressed his condolences for the families of the bereaved and has declared tomorrow to be a day of national mourning. All dung-run factories shall remain shut and only strictly vegetarian food will be consumed.

The Times of India, July 21st, 2017: 12 cows were killed in an unprecedented attack on a group of peaceful protestors in Paltan Bazar, Guwahati yesterday, who were protesting the Supreme Court's decision against legalizing same-sex marriage in cows as well as the TAFSPA (Two-Armed Forces Special Powers Act) prevalent throughout the nation. The group of cows, most aged between 4 to 6 were students of a nearby college. The Dean of the College was cowhandled and the premises were ransacked. A cowfew was declared by the government. Security in the major cities has been beefed up. The holy cities of Varanasi, Puri and Dwarka with notable bovine populations are especially vulnerable. Recently, protests against racial discriminations have rocked the nation as Cow Rights Activists have been protesting against the TAFSPA and other discriminatory measures of the human government, but this is the first time that this has culminated in a massacre - the Paltan Bazar massacre. Tensions are running high as another possibility of a military coup and bovine uprising is being apprehended. Sources in the government have hinted at a possible declaration of Emergency...

July 21st, 2017

Dear Diary,

I recently looked up the meaning of deja vu. I seem to have read it sometime previously...