Moner lodai

Chaitra rate ghum bhenge jai

Cheye roi aakash pane,

Kiser tore byakul e mon

Bhabi boshe songopone..

Proshno jage khane khane

Uttor tar pai kotha re --

Bandhon bhenge jokhun gechis chole

Abar keno ashis praner majhare ?

Kenoi ba nebo tore apon kore?

Khubdho mon nalish janai gobhir sure.

Premik mon minoti kore chokher jole-

Nijer kore ne tahare sokol bhule.

Dui moner nirob lodai

Dekhi boshe chupti kore,

Andhar kete sokal hole bhabi

Mon er andhar kaate kemon kore?

Mumbai

31.3.10

One Hour with James. D. Watson

Ever since I had arrived at the Cold Spring Harbor Laboratory, almost everyone I met spoke of Jim Watson. Some good stories, some not-so-good ones, but nonetheless everyone spoke of him. He also seemed to be present everywhere. I could find him on the walls of the Urey Cottage and the dining hall. I could see his life-size portrait smiling back at me every time I entered the Grace auditorium. He was also present (at least seemed so) in our dinner conversations with senior students, in casual talks with professors and by the time we were supposed to meet him, even in my imagination! I had been told the last night that if you were a Russian or a tennis enthusiast, Anna Kournikova was his favorite topic. Unluckily I was neither.

When we entered the lecture room at the Marks Laboratory, he was already there; sitting smilingly at the head of a long wooden table. I had seen him for the first time the day before, when I was walking down the hill towards the Jones laboratory with the half-frozen harbor to my right. He had driven past me in his verdant Jaguar. I thought it was him but couldn’t be sure. Now I was, as I looked carefully at the man who shot to fame fifty seven years ago when he proposed along with Crick the iconic double helical structure of DNA, “the secret of life”, as he prefers to call it. By the time he was a little beyond thirty, he was already a Nobel Laureate. His features still bore semblance to many a picture that I have seen of him from his youth. His eyes had retained that mischievous twinkle.

After we had introduced ourselves, he said that he would be telling us about his latest book titled ‘Avoid Boring People’. He quickly added that it had a double meaning but didn’t elaborate further. It seemed to me that he didn’t care to explain it to someone naïve enough not to get it! Fortunately I was saved of this humiliation almost immediately. Soon after, I was slightly shocked when he said, “I am the most famous living scientist. (Since) Madame Curie is already dead.” Vanity irritates me and is almost always untrue but I realized that in this case he might actually be correct! He spoke of his childhood and of his excellent education which enabled him to do what he did. He regarded Max Delbruck as his idol until he met him and realized that Max was no better a scientist than what he was! He briefly mentioned parts of the now famous story of how ‘The Double Helix’ was discovered. His memory didn’t betray him as he mentioned excruciating details of a bygone age with considerable ease. He would laugh often but almost always alone. His laugh was very awkward and it sounded like a snore. Yet no one could miss the air of superiority it embodied. He often said things that shouldn’t be said. Luckily we were prepared for that. We had already been warned by Dawn, the Admissions Officer and our sweet hostess.

His book deals with his rules to become famous. I agree with a few and disagree with the rest. Some of them were indeed nice. He believes that “If someone is the most brilliant person in a class, it’s not the best place for him”, with which I agree. After a slight pause he added, “But he should at least be the second best!” It was followed by his usual grin. He mentioned the need to look out for the big questions rather than solving things that everyone else could do. At some point he was talking of passion in science when he suddenly turned towards me and exclaimed with disbelief, “I don’t understand how arranged marriages work in India!” I only smiled back at him because he was not interested in knowing the answer. He also spent some time talking about how CSHL was better than Harvard or Cambridge! It was the most one-sided informal chat that I have ever been a part of. But it hardly felt awkward. It seemed that’s the way it is supposed to be with Him!

Soon, his casual and my much awaited one hour, was spent. He suddenly stopped and asked us the details of the Broadway show that we were to see that evening in New York City. When he heard it was Billy Elliot, he made a not-so-prudent comment on homosexuality. Then on my request, he agreed to pose for a couple of group photos which soon turned into a rage. And then after we shook his hands, all of us one by one, he drove away. He had lived up to his reputation of being an entertainer. He seemed to me incapable of being dull as he was of being mediocre. What shall remain with me, apart from a faint memory of that one-hour, is a signed copy of his famous book: “The Double Helix.”

Thought-Clones

Every time I go for a movie with my friends,
I observe something similar when it ends:
Though everyone has at least something to say,
We wait for someone else to show the way.

And when the silence between us begins to be felt,
“Neither too good, nor too bad”, someone yields.

A perfect opinion it is, I think;

Concealing more than it reveals!

A predictable conversation then always starts,
Careful neither to praise nor to hurt.
Soon everyone starts following everyone else
Yet trying to sound cleverer than the rest!

Why are we so afraid to speak our minds?

And dread the vox populi?

It might be in-vogue to embrace conformity
But the greatest crime is to lose your own identity.

Afterthought

When a thought suddenly visits your mind
And you are tempted to speak aloud,
Do ponder over it for a moment or two
Or else later you will rue.

A Fleeting Tete-a-tete

I thought you would never come,
Never come to me.
Yet I hoped someday,
You might knock at my door,
And through your eyes
Show me the world anew.

The world that I have visited only in my dreams:

Where the sky kisses the azure ocean
And bees hum to their heart’s delight;
Where the pristine moon smiles back
And radiates bliss in its silvery hue;
Where an unspoken word means more than
Anything that has ever been said;
Where a touch can soothe the pained heart
And make time stand still.

And then you came in the stillness of the night,
Oblivious to even me while I slept;
I woke up from my dream
And found you in me,
In all your splendor.

I wish I was awake!

But soon your time was spent.
You walked away in broad daylight,
As I bade adieu with moistened eyes.
The burden of your footsteps trampled me,
As you faded into the horizon.
Now in my dreams, I sometimes find you;
Only to lose you in rousing.

And then I wish I was still asleep!

Futile Cycle

Sometimes when I think,
I do think that I do not want to think;
But then I think and keep thinking
Until I again think of not to think.

Jhore Swapnobhongo

The title is adapted from the famous poem 'Nirjhore swapnobhongo' by Tagore.

Prem eshechilo ekdin, nirobe, songopone
Matiye tulechilo mon pran deho
Bhashiye diyechilo amar ekool okool khaniker tore.

Aaj jhoro hawar neshai mataal amar sei prem
Se ure jacche, ami chutchi tar pechone..pranpone
Tarpor hothat ghum bhenge gelo
Hoyto sopno dekhchilam naki bastob?


Mumbai
11.2.09