Sudipta's Life

I am not the wolf, I promise! I definitely prefer being called the hunter in the story . Actually, the hunt for my own Ms Red Riding Hood has been quite entertaining. After so many serious posts about the upcoming marriage, I thought we all could do with some entertainment. By the way, I know that some of you previous "prospects" still read this blog. Honey, if you are going to be offended that I shared this about you, you can at least laugh at the other ones! Yes of course you know my email address (possibly my phone number as well)... but no, please don't feel free to tell me anything about this post except in the comments section here. :P Our journey in search of Red Riding Hood begins with a wedding in the caves of France about five thousand years ago. You can see the wedding album on some of the walls even today. Now since one marriage is supposed to last you till seven rebirths, I think this might be the last of the seven for both of us. After this, we meet in hea...

 When I was a kid, one of my uncles was visiting India in search of a wife (yeah... the arranged marriages in those days). He visited quite a few homes and met some girls along with their families. I did not go along with them at any time, of course, but one day when he came back, I heard my mother and he discussing their day. The girl had asked him, "So, what is your idea of the ideal woman?". I don't remember what his answer was at that time, but the question certainly stirred me. When I set out to find the One for me, I needed to know what exactly I wanted in the person I would marry. Would I even want to marry the perfect woman? How do I make a list of things which I want to see in a potential wife? What is the final signal that seals the deal? Lots of questions, I know... but I arrived at some answers which I wish to share here. The first thing I noticed when I pondered over the question was that I had a much better idea of what I did not want in a spo...

The story below is the first of a three-part translation of a short story by Rabindranath Tagore, called " Shasti ", which means 'punishment'. And as even embark upon this project, I find the English language simply too impoverished to capture the magic he weaved through his Bengali. But, here is my feeble attempt nonetheless, using a thousand consultations of the thesaurus. Read on. =================== When the brothers Dukhiram and Chhidaam Rui started from their household that morning for their daily wage work, sickle in hand, their wives were already shouting and screaming at each other. But like so many other noises in nature, their neighbourhood had gotten used to this daily clamour. Whenever one of the shrill voices would begin to echo around the locality, people would roll their heads at one another and remark, "Here we go again"; meaning things are going exactly as one would expect them to: nothing exceptional today. The way no-one ever asks quest...