There we were inching (milli-metering, more likely) towards Mallickpur through incredibly congested, narrow roads in the HUMID HEAT. Adding to the general misery were raucous announcements from loudspeakers on lamp posts about a "Swecha Rakta Dan Shibir" - blood donation camp organised by a political party.
But apparently things weren't going too well. The announcer kept asking shop owners to come and donate blood or send an assistant (if they were too busy), targetting some shops repeatedly by taking their names and interspersing the name taking with guilt inducing stories:
How so and so had come all the way from Jhargram and donated quite a few pints; some one else from far off Jaggadal (if one were to believe with the sole purpose of donating blood here, in this camp in a bylane at one extreme end of Kolkata) etc. The best story of them all was that of an elderly lady which the announcer relayed, his voice choked with emotion:
- She said to me ...will u take my blood? Will you? - Why not ma? Why not indeed? If you can come all this way, we will be honored to take your blood, (unlike the blood sucking leaches who prefer hiding behind their counters making money and not bothering about their social responsibility). And so on...
It was another life time ago that Netaji inspired countless through his soul stirring "Give me your blood...". But that was an extra ordinary situation and time with extra ordinary men and women.
Even so, one could hardly ever imagine that those same lines would one day be used on Sharma Stores, Mitra Bhandar, Pintu Pharmacy, Bannerjee Bedding etc in a cringe inducing, guilt rousing, cajoling, coaxing way....making the Swechcha Rakta Daan Shibir not quite so voluntary. Hope the blood donation camp was a successful one. His histrionics made us forgot our irritation at the traffic and just as we were getting quite fond of the loud disembodied voice at the mike, the snarl - unsnarled, and we moved on and if truth be told, a wee bit sorry that we couln't hear him anymore.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Friday, March 27, 2009
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Enroute
Another HOT and MUGGY day. Another late night at work. And what's more I was one of the last to leave. That spookish feeling I get when switching off all the lights and locking up doors on my way out.
A 2 minute walk through a snaky road brings me to the main road and the bus stop. Half way through, someone pressed a cosmic button and hey presto...a cool breeze swept through and within a second everything became PLEASANT. My clothes were no longer sticking to my body, I and everyone else felt and looked refreshed. And I didn't have to wait. A shuttle auto with 2 passengers waiting. I was the all important passenger number 3, which would induce the auto driver to start [otherwise, they would wait and wait and wait till atleast three passengers turned up]. I could shut my eyes and pretend that I was away in some hill station. I had to shut my ears too - to block the cacaphony of a million vehicles. And ignore million dust particles that the breeze threw up, bigger ones than the record breaking suspended particles in the air . But hey... we make the most of such "cosmic benevolence" rare as they are and don't believe in nitpicking.
An auto change at Taratolla and onto another for Deshopriyo Park and in 30 short [the driver was a grand prix driver in a previous life] and hair raising [zig-zag, whoosh past enormous buses, swanky cars, reckless cyclists, jay walkers] minutes later, I could see the D'park street signal - my destination, when the air filled [redolent is the right word] with the marvellous fragrance of rajnigandha from the many flower stalls lining the roads in Lake Market. MARVELLOUS.
A 2 minute walk through a snaky road brings me to the main road and the bus stop. Half way through, someone pressed a cosmic button and hey presto...a cool breeze swept through and within a second everything became PLEASANT. My clothes were no longer sticking to my body, I and everyone else felt and looked refreshed. And I didn't have to wait. A shuttle auto with 2 passengers waiting. I was the all important passenger number 3, which would induce the auto driver to start [otherwise, they would wait and wait and wait till atleast three passengers turned up]. I could shut my eyes and pretend that I was away in some hill station. I had to shut my ears too - to block the cacaphony of a million vehicles. And ignore million dust particles that the breeze threw up, bigger ones than the record breaking suspended particles in the air . But hey... we make the most of such "cosmic benevolence" rare as they are and don't believe in nitpicking.
An auto change at Taratolla and onto another for Deshopriyo Park and in 30 short [the driver was a grand prix driver in a previous life] and hair raising [zig-zag, whoosh past enormous buses, swanky cars, reckless cyclists, jay walkers] minutes later, I could see the D'park street signal - my destination, when the air filled [redolent is the right word] with the marvellous fragrance of rajnigandha from the many flower stalls lining the roads in Lake Market. MARVELLOUS.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Shantiniketan
The names says it all. It really is the abode of peace - at least in my personal experience. Went there last 7 years ago. 'It's not the same any more'. 'Has changed (and for the worse)', etc., comments fly. But there I was coming in from Assam (work) late on Monday night and packed and ready early next morning for Shantiniketan. I was tired. It was going to be HOT. But having said yes to the trip long back, couldn't back out. Atleast I would spend two days in company of friends I rarely get to meet nowadays. But as it turned out...fortune favours the bold! As our Sumo crammed with 8 of us + the driver + assorted bags, one wheelchair to boot...sped out of Kolkata ... the sun sort of didn't rise despite it being nearly 7:00 am. The skies darkened further and a cool breeze made us shiver (we were all of us in our most comfortable, sleeveless, worse for wear Kolkata summer wear). Ah! Kothai jeno brishti porchay.
A short stop at Shaktigarh for a quick breakfast of kochuri, aloor tarkari and ofcourse the famous langcha - took me longer to read the names of all the langcha shops - Langcha Mahal, Langcha Kutir, Langcha dham, langcha stop, langcha bhavan, langcha bhuvan, Langcha godam, Langcha ghar...and ofcourse each had one unique claim to fame - Mithun Chakraborty ate here, Mahanayak Uttam Kumar ate there, here was Abhijeet smiling and there was Subhash Chakraborty in person at Langcha Mahal entourage, guards et al (on our way back).
And then we entered Birbhum. I would have known it even without the mileposts. The scenery changes completely. Flat wide expanse of bare fields like blond brush, ...the dusty dusky green in the distance, beautiful mud huts, red earth and ofcourse, I don't quite know I am filled with glee and there I am sitting at the back of the cramped sumo humming...what else - gram chara oi ranga matir poth!
And then two days of bliss. Soaking in that special variety of shanti that one gets there. Still pools, a few hens, bleating goats there, boys and girls on cycles...the still timeless quality in the air, the sated contentment, winding ranga matir path, everything seems to be posing for a gigantic, real life tableaux and I can't get enough of it.
Despite the physical weariness, mentally, I am fully re-charged.
A short stop at Shaktigarh for a quick breakfast of kochuri, aloor tarkari and ofcourse the famous langcha - took me longer to read the names of all the langcha shops - Langcha Mahal, Langcha Kutir, Langcha dham, langcha stop, langcha bhavan, langcha bhuvan, Langcha godam, Langcha ghar...and ofcourse each had one unique claim to fame - Mithun Chakraborty ate here, Mahanayak Uttam Kumar ate there, here was Abhijeet smiling and there was Subhash Chakraborty in person at Langcha Mahal entourage, guards et al (on our way back).
And then we entered Birbhum. I would have known it even without the mileposts. The scenery changes completely. Flat wide expanse of bare fields like blond brush, ...the dusty dusky green in the distance, beautiful mud huts, red earth and ofcourse, I don't quite know I am filled with glee and there I am sitting at the back of the cramped sumo humming...what else - gram chara oi ranga matir poth!
And then two days of bliss. Soaking in that special variety of shanti that one gets there. Still pools, a few hens, bleating goats there, boys and girls on cycles...the still timeless quality in the air, the sated contentment, winding ranga matir path, everything seems to be posing for a gigantic, real life tableaux and I can't get enough of it.
Despite the physical weariness, mentally, I am fully re-charged.
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