Love That Never Was

Love that never was

Baby, you remember the day we walked together
Hand in hand, you asked me not to bother
With the sun scorching above
And the brick road beneath red-hot
I found your hand was cold
Though we tried to match the steps
I knew we were drifting apart
Coz I realized I am in love that never was.

Yeah babe, that never was
That never been
I have never seen
I am in love that never was.

Baby, you looked peach dancing in the rain
Under the cloudy welkin,
Thunders in ear,
Sloshing through the mire
You squeezed me against you.
And I Found you were dry.
Though we breathed together
I knew you never skipped a beat
Coz I realized I am in love that never was.

Yeah babe, that never was
That never been
I have never seen
I am in love that never was.

Baby, you remember the night when we lied
Lips locked, bodies pressed
When the candles burnt out
You whispered in my ears
I gazed into your eyes
And it din say a word
Though you had my body
I knew you never asked for the soul
Coz I realized I am in love that never was.

Yeah babe, that never was
That never been
I have never seen
I am in love that never was.
Yeah babeeeeh…..I am in love that never was.

~ SOMDEB SENGUPTA

Of Lonely Nights, Fags & Music

Night has something in it, definitely. Is night feminine? I think certainly so. Else how could she (I go forward with my hypothesis and henceforth I will address night as “she”) attract me so much. She keeps me alive till a ray of sunbeam obliterates her. And the best thing is that she is lonely. I love lonely ladies as they have something about them.

In this world filled with libido, it is not easy for someone as mysterious and luring as night to be lonely. But she is and this very fact catches my fancy. I enjoy her company. And I must say she is very generous to me. Unlike other females, she never complains me puffing circular rings right into her. Have anyone of you ever seen those circular rings in a pitch dark room, only illuminated by the smoky circles of Windows Media Player that is churning out music, breaking the silence of solitude. You can trust me if you look at that for a few minutes, you don’t need any dopes to be on HIGH

And unlike my parents, friends and friends of special breed, night never complains about the music I listen to. Umpteen patience and permissiveness are instant turn-ons for me and I adore lonely night for it. She is a devoted mistress who never leaves me and tolerates all my idiosyncrasies.

And the music rolls on with nth cigarette burning and so my lungs. The music follows a particular trend. It starts with country and gets harder and harder. The evolution from CCR to Cradle of Filth is a smooth one and as the smoky circle gets heavier … the air becomes dense and heavy and so does the music … from blues to psychedelic to gothic and grotesque.

As I told you, Night is my perfect woman. Her metamorphosis is in distinct phases. She starts chatting as a friend (a chat where silence is more eloquent than speeches), then embraces me like a wife, taking utmost care and then as she grows old, she asks me to go to sleep in her lap.

And then … I smoke the day’s last cigarette and doze off singing:

Now I lay me down to sleep
I pray the lord my soul to keep
If I die before I wake
I pray the lord my soul to take

- (Courtesy: Enter Sandman By Metallica)


~ Oh .. I forgot .. my lord has a human number. It is 666.

Client Audit: Much Ado About Nothing

Everything is in a mess in the office today. Rather I would say everybody is trying to clear what can seem to be a "mess" to the Americans. I do understand that they are our clients and they are the king according to some popular management theory. So they have to be treated royally.

What is this fuss all about? It's about the audit which is going to take place in a few days time. If you look at the people in the bay, it's like Parl Harbour under Japanese attack. Everyone is up on their toes like a midget in the urinal. We need to clear everything up. What all need to be cleared??

We need to follow a clean desk policy, ie, there wont be anything apart from our hands on the desk. Well, a few days back I was watching a TV channel which was showing some American corporate office. Believe me his desk was no less messed up than that you find in a engineering college hostel room. And then those buffoons expect us to follow clean desk policy. I promise, you wont see coke cans and pizza packets on our desks. We are too poor to afford them. But that's life. American hegemony all the way.

Next comes your workstation. No music, no chat mesenger. I agree. They want us to work, work and work. No recreation. Right they are. Why should the bloody Indians need recreation? Aren't they paying us? They treat us as a hooker and rightly so. Because we are poor and we need money. We need dollars. So as the Beatles said "Let it be."But what sucks is that when the NSS guy came and deleted the Photographs of my girlfriend from my hard-drive. Well, I ensure you --- they were neither porns nor MMS. They were just innocuos photographs. But no . You bloody indian dont have any right to keep your personal stuff. Rather you should not have any personal life. Those buggers think that with the power of dollars, they have not only bought our skills, but also our body, mind and soul.And what is most disheartening when I find some of my Indian brothers beaving like a pet watch-dog of them.

No wonder why thousands brits ruled crores for more than 200 years.

Reaching the Land of Uncle Sam

Finally I reached Charlotte on the April fool’s day and indeed it was an April fool. I went to the hotel and I was deeply shocked. I guess people out here don’t have an iota of idea of what “service” means. I was agitated, rather disgusted. My first impression or the halo effect (what psychologists say) was bad. But later I realized that is precisely why I and millions of my fellow brothers and their sisters are in this Uncle Sam’s land. We are here to provide service.

The hotel sucked. I was looking vaguely around for someone to carry my luggage upstairs, but there were none. So I had to do it all by myself. The room door was not opening due to some technical problem. I came down all the way (with luggage of course) to ask the lady at counter for help. She, with a typical lipstick smile, told me: keep on trying sir. It will work. “What the fuck!!!” I said as a monologue because I dint have the balls to convert mono to dia on the very first night in US.

Anyways I kept on trying, the door refused to open up to an Indian. I gathered all my courage and left my luggage upstairs at god’s mercy and came down to hurl at the lady “It’s not working mam. Could you, for Christ’s sake, change the card or the room.” This worked. I bet she was a god-fearing (or to be precise, Christ fearing) pious lady. She decided to call for a help. Now I knew why she was hesitant. Appeared a man who is two times in width of Shaquile O Neil and same height of Yao Ming. He scared the hell out of me. Whatever, he did help me out to open the door and changed the card.

The room was a non-smoking one (Dint I tell you that?). I just dumped my baggage in and rushed out for a smoke. I dint have any for last 32 hours. Even the Magic Johnson look-alike cab driver told me “Don’t smoke in the cab Maaan….” & I definitely obliged. Did I have any other option??? If those 7 feet, 300 Lbs hunks politely ask any of you “Maaaaan!!!! Pull your pants down and bend over. I just wanna check how Indian arse looks like”.. aren’t you going to oblige????

So down came I in a desperate need for a smoke. Now there was another problem. It seemed the entire hotel did not know there existed something on earth called Matchboxes or lighters. I wonder they still use those stones. So I was searching around for the lighting equipment. Then I saw a blonde coming down from a SUV. I sang “Come on baby light my fire…”, but she was not interested as she dint have enough equipments.


I was stranded at the entrance of the hotel, desperately looking for a “Lady with the lamp” For that matter, even a gentleman would do. I just thought of a gentleman and came three good Samaritans. My good old friend Avik, accompanied by two other “desis”, Vinod & Sumit came to meet me. And good lord, they had fire. So the first puff after a long 32 hours and in the land of “Manhattan, Basketball, Mighty Dollar and Wal-Mart”. But gosh … I thought it would be different. But I felt the same way when I used to have a puff after returning to hostel from home after 2 days in the land of “Ragging, Delirium, Hatchets and Chai-shops”. Indeed, some feelings do not change with geographical boundaries.

Sumit had a car, the lifeline in this land where public transport is as non-existent as a skyscraper in Kolkata. We went to some burger joint and had burger, coke and chips. Now I got the feeling of being in USA. The burger. A sophisticated and yes, cheesy version of our indigenous Wada-Pav. But it tasted good after I almost lived on diet coke for 30 hours. The food of Delta Airlines was too bad. So I did not have a morsel for long and the burger was heaven for me.
However, I was swept off by the welcome from my desi bhais. They brought a bottle of Jack Daniels and we made merry. It was a zephyr for me after a not-so-good first impression of Uncle Sam’s Land. It was almost 10:30 at night and bed was calling me. Tomorrow is going to be a hectic day. We need to set up the flat that Avik rented for both of us. I really don’t want to extend my stay at Extended Stay anymore