tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-61370272024-03-07T10:33:01.900+05:30Notes from wherever I happen to beSukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.comBlogger339125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-4806716159944113082022-10-08T12:04:00.000+05:302022-10-08T12:04:14.287+05:30A suitably (heavy) bookStandout event of 1993 was possibly Vikram Seth's A Suitable Boy! I was still a student and my pockets weren't that deep. All the world was a buzz with the book, the advance, the number of pages, the story. And then, it arrived in our building, bought by a young couple! Hurrah. And one fine sunday (I think), their baby sitter arrived at our apartment, their baby cradled in the crook of one arm and the other holding on to the tome of 1349 pages + hard cover! OMG. That moment was greater than the actual reading of the book (which was also terrific). <div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">It has taken me 29 years to do something similar! This morning, I sent Robert Galbraith's The Ink Black Heart (Cormoran Strike book #6) over to them. All 1462 pages of it! Yes, yes different genres and not really comparable, but this was something eagerly awaited by both families. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu1WmT1tDYlvS5ACBvxx2wnUtwOuFSBAgyxmcH1eqdDZu3fib_1793rW9FkNJnr5WgKBspUT8b-clH1apNcKYvNINV94030TDWCusLJ75gmxImj2UD2wVdDtvnvLXqaXisX6--m3QCw02ureHlg9sOTrkI9e3JnhKhcWg1aAH204qcDELZ96E/s2594/Inkblackheart.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2594" data-original-width="1951" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu1WmT1tDYlvS5ACBvxx2wnUtwOuFSBAgyxmcH1eqdDZu3fib_1793rW9FkNJnr5WgKBspUT8b-clH1apNcKYvNINV94030TDWCusLJ75gmxImj2UD2wVdDtvnvLXqaXisX6--m3QCw02ureHlg9sOTrkI9e3JnhKhcWg1aAH204qcDELZ96E/s320/Inkblackheart.jpg" width="241" /></a></div><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-12199069538580031382020-09-16T19:40:00.009+05:302020-09-16T19:42:07.588+05:30A library closed down<p><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: arial;">My book haul! Usually a thing of enormous
delight. Not so this time.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewBts49TjuEjAOX1z7SWCpGsy060wNRGGcdTlALT4hSJ4wIPuWZUEjAy-Td_Y-LVdxWZXxJts4vZI0bazlaPmzs7ljHGBRp1Df71qqkrrTIzBcNsXwF2aXzku7IUllCRPMfnAdQ/s2048/IMG_20200913_122542.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1505" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiewBts49TjuEjAOX1z7SWCpGsy060wNRGGcdTlALT4hSJ4wIPuWZUEjAy-Td_Y-LVdxWZXxJts4vZI0bazlaPmzs7ljHGBRp1Df71qqkrrTIzBcNsXwF2aXzku7IUllCRPMfnAdQ/w294-h400/IMG_20200913_122542.jpg" width="294" /></span></a></div><span style="font-family: arial;">Ekta library bondho hoi gelo. Aar kichu diner
modhe, the owner D.P George will pull down the shutters to this tiny one room
library and leave Kolkata forever for his native Kerala. A combination of
reasons. Primarily, not many patrons for libraries now a days. Well times, they
are a changing. <o:p></o:p></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">Eloor Library closed couple of years ago. That
ground floor of the white building opposite Bharat Sevashram Sangha was my
favorite go to place. Nothing so calming and exciting at the same time to be
lost among towering shelves of books! George who was a staff there, decided to
open his tiny library mainly with a few patrons like me who couldn’t do without
the periodic pottering around bookshelves.</span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: arial;"><span face=""Arial",sans-serif" style="color: #222222; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span><span face="Arial, sans-serif" style="color: #222222;">He WA the members about his decision and the
impending book sale. I was a tad late. I wanted the Yuval Hararis, the Tin Tins
and the Asterixs. All gone. Am happy with my haul though. My last take out from
this library. 20 years of memories.</span></span></p>Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-33907790724231708912020-09-13T12:38:00.002+05:302020-09-13T12:50:01.205+05:30<p>Anandamela & Anand Bazar Patrika Puja Barshikis arrived together a week back, heralding the advent of Maa Durga! </p><p>Shirshendu Mukhopadhyay has a story in both. I am more familiar with his bucolic sagas in Anadamela with 100s of characters each with separate stories all coming together in a madcap, side splitting way. Hirangarer Byapar Syapar promises to be the usual laugh riot set in a village with an ensemble cast. On the other hand is the curiously titled “<i>Amake Biye Korben?” </i>(Will you marry me?) in AB Patrika, for an older audience. </p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal">I settled
for the latter for my bedtime reading. The opening sentence didn’t read very
romantic. More like a crime thriller. Curious. Suspicions confirmed a few lines
down. <i>Shabor bench e boshlen. Detective Shabor Dasgputa of Lal Bazar!!</i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><i>Whaaaaaaat? A new Shabor Story? Hurrah. Then a new film
in the offing. <o:p></o:p></i></p>
<p class="MsoNormal">Story wasn’t too great. Hirangar should be more fun. <i><o:p></o:p></i></p><br /><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRYURwLc3Jg1a8uDNKKMPY0hMWIjp0tY1ecKI86Th1uRhyphenhyphen_HiLZkDzvNoBY6qwm81hUmzXjBlX25keCdCnfeDudEWa1L2j2QojJ9ic2Ypzsinkxi36KBwcCVoxvVQEXKzeigRNZw/s1999/IMG_20200901_223625.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1999" data-original-width="1500" height="781" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRYURwLc3Jg1a8uDNKKMPY0hMWIjp0tY1ecKI86Th1uRhyphenhyphen_HiLZkDzvNoBY6qwm81hUmzXjBlX25keCdCnfeDudEWa1L2j2QojJ9ic2Ypzsinkxi36KBwcCVoxvVQEXKzeigRNZw/w586-h781/IMG_20200901_223625.jpg" width="586" /></a></div><br />Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-75553859145858061322020-09-01T23:05:00.009+05:302020-09-02T10:16:34.094+05:302 cakes, 1 Birthday and 1 New Year<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #073763; font-family: arial;"><b>R</b> baked my favorite apple cinnamon upside-down
cake on my birthday eve. Pater, Mater and perhaps sis were expecting I’d cut my cake
soon. I desisted. Birthday cake must always be cut on one’s birthday. And at a
decent hour. Not at midnight for the middle of the night social media pix / fix! Which anyhow, rest of the world would see the next day.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: arial;">Next morning, or on my birthday, I cut the
cake after our (R’s, ma’s, and mine) morning cup(s) of tea. Conversation flowed
like it does every morning, about this and that and menu for the day. Suddenly ma sang out “Happy birthday
to you” and just as sudden went back to conversing with R.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: arial;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqr2akFS-15NIzr0mfkkaAxcBEZTyTueJy5jBD_oPJTiisiKAcf6bRyIhOVHi7MZPoHQWBp-nsgvx0BFzVmdHQKDHYcE-tJMRVSPtHgzCQoeLvqrF5G7be5hIPQM9-Pcqyl2YyxA/s2048/IMG_20200829_102558.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: arial;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="384" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqr2akFS-15NIzr0mfkkaAxcBEZTyTueJy5jBD_oPJTiisiKAcf6bRyIhOVHi7MZPoHQWBp-nsgvx0BFzVmdHQKDHYcE-tJMRVSPtHgzCQoeLvqrF5G7be5hIPQM9-Pcqyl2YyxA/w512-h384/IMG_20200829_102558.jpg" width="512" /></span></a></div><span style="color: #073763; font-family: arial;"><br /><span face="" style="background-color: white;">A couple of hou</span>rs later, ma asked me to get
some dhania <i>pata</i><span face=""> from the fridge. I told her that it was already in the
kitchen. She then asked me to get something else out, which too was already in the
kitchen. She seemed to think of something else and then laughed. Open the fridge.
Your cake. What cake? Its already on the table. While I was in my room doing yoga,
a white forest cake was delivered, which R had to receive and then hide it in
the fridge. Now I had 2 cakes. Felt for R. All her plans to surprise me, </span><i>bheste
gelo!</i></span><p></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #073763; font-family: arial;"><span face="">In the middle of it all, Baba came out of his
room, saw me and said “Happy new year”. </span><i>Bojho! </i><span face="">Seeing the look on my
face, he said, “New year, for you". </span></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: arial; font-size: x-small; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><o:p> </o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><br /></p>Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-6986712064155984032020-05-06T20:41:00.002+05:302020-05-06T20:41:26.529+05:30A 100 years from today<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXgK_pUbsbr5oJwvblRNJES14Aza374MuxuakaaZao65zkHkHa9UdFwUwGnryiAbcR-PCT_UMSq2f902QxXxbNBQTHM0ztWV8o7gwxVuPexsa0uwtTPdkyw29gDggyy7gUV17ywA/s1600/lines.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="358" data-original-width="1600" height="142" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXgK_pUbsbr5oJwvblRNJES14Aza374MuxuakaaZao65zkHkHa9UdFwUwGnryiAbcR-PCT_UMSq2f902QxXxbNBQTHM0ztWV8o7gwxVuPexsa0uwtTPdkyw29gDggyy7gUV17ywA/s640/lines.jpg" width="640" /></a><i>The problem was further compounded by the fact that the
killer disease, influenza, had broken out in the ashram… He (Rabindranath) had
heard about cases in Kolkata, ....Now he was horrified to hear that four students had
been affected and the contagion was spreading fast. Circa 1919-20 </i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
[Daughters of Jorasanko, Aruna Charkavarti]</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Imagine the coincidence of reading these lines in the lockdown
due to the COVID19 Pandemic 100 years later! <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Aaji hote Soto Borsho pore! <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<br /><br />
<br />Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-37390847591526962622020-05-03T22:35:00.001+05:302020-05-03T22:44:55.820+05:30The Bagdi MeyeSuddenly her eyes fell on a corner of the courtyard where Ullashi Bagdini had just put down her basked under the Shaddock tree. Ullashi was the wife of Rama Bagdi and between the two they supplied fish to the Tagore households.<br />
<br />
I came across these lines in the marvellous, poignant "<b>Daughters of Jorasanko</b>" by Aruna Chakravarti. I had bought this book couple of years ago but reading it only now, housebound as I am, in the LOCKDOWN. Just as well because any earlier, I wouldnt have known what Bagdi was. At best I'd have thought it to have been a surname.<br />
Thanks to a wonderful gift by a generous friend, I now know better. I am the proud owner of a Pot Chitro of "Bagdi Meye" by the Late Shantanu Potua, fishing in their traditional way!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrqU4MPJfI1hl9Qh-m6KvxmyobXnP2fYEl5dZQNNVJKGwpajShAWcuVEhjWHc5vAxRvRSJDe_z28sb0p4Z5GDRMfzMnSEHogY3DXD6E07bHYcBL4DahI6iD4t9-CEac7Mf4xHT9Q/s1600/IMG_20200503_221019.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrqU4MPJfI1hl9Qh-m6KvxmyobXnP2fYEl5dZQNNVJKGwpajShAWcuVEhjWHc5vAxRvRSJDe_z28sb0p4Z5GDRMfzMnSEHogY3DXD6E07bHYcBL4DahI6iD4t9-CEac7Mf4xHT9Q/s640/IMG_20200503_221019.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-22894788288381318902020-04-27T23:07:00.003+05:302020-04-27T23:07:41.672+05:30<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Pastel Dusk!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigYofn79_bg072Ro5VU-XF5FQZElv9GPDWb3E943i8kqUmC4Rj48I42S1WdpBA2_wGBA9nan97HUfR5cTJyE1_QN7OuQWjnJkULX1hoRR8xhbwq4M28sdpuD3dZy5qdsOwfGJ47g/s1600/IMG_20200427_182753+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigYofn79_bg072Ro5VU-XF5FQZElv9GPDWb3E943i8kqUmC4Rj48I42S1WdpBA2_wGBA9nan97HUfR5cTJyE1_QN7OuQWjnJkULX1hoRR8xhbwq4M28sdpuD3dZy5qdsOwfGJ47g/s640/IMG_20200427_182753+%25281%2529.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-14340015178962988012020-04-26T23:04:00.003+05:302020-04-26T23:04:38.739+05:30<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Never tire of this, my favorite view! One of, ie..</span><div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNqsDQA4JTRDs4QKTsa0SniJaIjZ-C2isc_k9Q-TI9l3p5rRqRQ0doq156CvPoThEAcpglSqMFdE3Ynq9FujdoOD2-rEdsh7CUylkGOL5epUAauZPqn3Uh2I97Pxl6X9EEF3VwRg/s1600/maddox+long+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNqsDQA4JTRDs4QKTsa0SniJaIjZ-C2isc_k9Q-TI9l3p5rRqRQ0doq156CvPoThEAcpglSqMFdE3Ynq9FujdoOD2-rEdsh7CUylkGOL5epUAauZPqn3Uh2I97Pxl6X9EEF3VwRg/s640/maddox+long+view.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div>
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhex8FgDLPPBIdRfa3xkicwugcI-Jrlr-8oU-FA8CV_q3ZMInG1Aq5ECwmTDEg6kDh-ATspvWwwfNZXck69w6nUL-rDB-CuxlHNrVt_Oa32d9JhQk0TzE82t3JuqIxUEjqpjyQlZg/s1600/maddox+view.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="751" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhex8FgDLPPBIdRfa3xkicwugcI-Jrlr-8oU-FA8CV_q3ZMInG1Aq5ECwmTDEg6kDh-ATspvWwwfNZXck69w6nUL-rDB-CuxlHNrVt_Oa32d9JhQk0TzE82t3JuqIxUEjqpjyQlZg/s640/maddox+view.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>
Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-88380220162210173922017-03-28T22:18:00.002+05:302017-03-28T22:18:37.307+05:30A house in Gola<div style="text-align: left;">
The wall art - fabulous to me, mundane, routine at Gola. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij00SilvnV4GwvfEgsXkhbKdc2QST8c4ZaKx4KqU2mB-UD7ju4ajCMvbQDEnObWkLyXUO11iOKKxVJWQ5TZ9gsyjEHYQxDQgKxDUaWNttk2OxX0lI_FPkrwiVgHRYRA34ugV8wPw/s1600/house+art+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEij00SilvnV4GwvfEgsXkhbKdc2QST8c4ZaKx4KqU2mB-UD7ju4ajCMvbQDEnObWkLyXUO11iOKKxVJWQ5TZ9gsyjEHYQxDQgKxDUaWNttk2OxX0lI_FPkrwiVgHRYRA34ugV8wPw/s640/house+art+1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Don't miss the happy (drunk I think) elephant!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbcy1WkwVmq65kgtIxII1ptE5Pf4T7SBvWsWJesDDnmlYDX9A-i93bFsKR6Ai2oYjgg_qB19o2WAZJbCtdWou5715bMJxVPSOGkrZhzVK5crYbD0KJ7aAJOujHTzOweRUuocJZRQ/s1600/house+art.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbcy1WkwVmq65kgtIxII1ptE5Pf4T7SBvWsWJesDDnmlYDX9A-i93bFsKR6Ai2oYjgg_qB19o2WAZJbCtdWou5715bMJxVPSOGkrZhzVK5crYbD0KJ7aAJOujHTzOweRUuocJZRQ/s640/house+art.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br />Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-9577614649553240152017-03-27T22:58:00.000+05:302017-03-27T22:59:51.995+05:30A school in Gola<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
This beautiful mud house with the bright blue door is a village school. But where are the children? Not quite sure. It was locked at noon when I visited the hamlet in Gola Block of Ramgarh District on a tuesday.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4zLDr_HLk9Va4IlhGoJ7RU_-0cTgjIFoMVA0NnZ4FafHqIiU7kz0mQ9MiVQIbzkh57FSMoJrUn1juuOeKDvNAZvG5gbzET5dlUg-3A5hqP8Lj-uP4U0JYqF9FwoU9QBy2A7-wA/s1600/blue+school+door.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4zLDr_HLk9Va4IlhGoJ7RU_-0cTgjIFoMVA0NnZ4FafHqIiU7kz0mQ9MiVQIbzkh57FSMoJrUn1juuOeKDvNAZvG5gbzET5dlUg-3A5hqP8Lj-uP4U0JYqF9FwoU9QBy2A7-wA/s640/blue+school+door.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Hope he children are learning. Barely legible scrawl on the walls spells out that this is a village school. The teacher's name is Geeta. This is followed by messages on organic farming! Go figure.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiC0RdImIFtrOCcvEGKpNg2UUkxvRHF4bdqc4U2ovEi4LN993y8RbsWGQZR-rhIjB4qxjxZ0Zzl2TBrA3wgcQBI_XbcKc8zueI7RGRXewSCpP6CVZ3_n-IT-3XCujbN4HeQNBIqA/s1600/blue+writing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiC0RdImIFtrOCcvEGKpNg2UUkxvRHF4bdqc4U2ovEi4LN993y8RbsWGQZR-rhIjB4qxjxZ0Zzl2TBrA3wgcQBI_XbcKc8zueI7RGRXewSCpP6CVZ3_n-IT-3XCujbN4HeQNBIqA/s640/blue+writing.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
Nevertheless, as I walked into the near empty roads of the village that afternoon, the white and blue school looked very beautiful. <br />
<br />Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-20175369695679047482016-11-25T23:25:00.001+05:302016-11-25T23:27:09.636+05:30Goodbye Mr. Chips ... <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBq-8LVjrj48_6q5embC6595euUoL76MwF0uQbK3ABhVAnagT5OtC2nfFFWfbinRXoyCNeiepQDP-qG7aXKNhxekcj6bKHNIEPnnLJVgw5uIZ9AENtyhQ1h38Lwst1x_2pgZnGjA/s1600/Front+Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBq-8LVjrj48_6q5embC6595euUoL76MwF0uQbK3ABhVAnagT5OtC2nfFFWfbinRXoyCNeiepQDP-qG7aXKNhxekcj6bKHNIEPnnLJVgw5uIZ9AENtyhQ1h38Lwst1x_2pgZnGjA/s320/Front+Cover.jpg" width="240" /></a>Came across your old possibly second hand copy of "Goodbye Mr. Chips". It was there last night out on the centre table along with ma's bagla magazine. She must have dug it out of the bookcase to read. Anyhow, having never have read it (imagine that!), I picked it up post dinner tonight and finished the 18 chapters or so in about a hour? Well at any rate while the oldies finished their dinner and before Maya came into clear the table and do the dishes.<br />
<br />
And just as well that I had not read it earlier. Was able to have those magical moments of reading something so utterly charming (though so tragic and sad). Unlike earlier when I was young, I'd have mopped on a bit about the sadness of the passage of time and how it was for Mr. Chips. Now I kept seeing myself in the near future, Ms. C. Remembered as funny, weird, irritating perhaps fun. Jai Hok. Loved every bit of it. Thankyou, so many many years later - Mr. Hilton.<br />
<br />
<br />
And the last few pages came up, out fell a hand written note in ink now faded to grey from black written on a a paper blotched with stains.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA6munZm8RzcePb5PkGZzE4YelL9fLZRBaz8UFIuXYbOFlkPqokUoqZDN70zcrT1qhR5-MXO-gPlg77msiIrTrKlx7Ll_Z-Tlj4dRqohfU97UVwFZ1My94xtiHPy2nb8m0_4sBxQ/s1600/Letter.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA6munZm8RzcePb5PkGZzE4YelL9fLZRBaz8UFIuXYbOFlkPqokUoqZDN70zcrT1qhR5-MXO-gPlg77msiIrTrKlx7Ll_Z-Tlj4dRqohfU97UVwFZ1My94xtiHPy2nb8m0_4sBxQ/s640/Letter.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #990000;">The poem in this </span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #990000;">letter was in a fit</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #990000;">of abstracted dementiousness</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #990000;">If you dont ignore that,</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #990000;">you;ll be ab even bigger</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #990000;">P. R. that I thought.</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #990000;">(Pompous rogue)</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #990000;"><i>Proux / Brown</i> (illegible to me)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #990000;">PS: I head you were born today</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="color: #990000;">I pity the world</span></i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #990000;"><i>Peb / Deb</i> </span>(cant read it clearly)</div>
<br />
So, I wondered who wrote it? And I turned to the beginning to see where the "poem" was.<br />
<br />
There it was at the beginning, Summer is over with a word changed here and there ....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0mh_3hmi8WCtpk4d16lMt04dY60RgcmG2yu7aQpZGM6Dy25URj1ea4Do0LgYjbPmtwqXnMi48D0LqBdmvFamQMTRVVffyAieoSbcDiGPBKmBHude783XkcyPpoOaqP_LpjW4KfA/s1600/Poem.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0mh_3hmi8WCtpk4d16lMt04dY60RgcmG2yu7aQpZGM6Dy25URj1ea4Do0LgYjbPmtwqXnMi48D0LqBdmvFamQMTRVVffyAieoSbcDiGPBKmBHude783XkcyPpoOaqP_LpjW4KfA/s400/Poem.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i>Time</i> runs away with the day</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">The grass that was green is now hay</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">The world goes around without even a sound</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">And <i>I guess our</i> summer is over</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #990000;">The rains tumble down in the sky</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">Young swallows have learned how to fly</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">The leaves that were green are no longer so green</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">And <i>I guess our</i> summer is over</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #990000;">The sun and the moon take turns in the sky</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;">The days drift on by too soon</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><i>Friendship</i> is kissed by <i>by the cold winter </i>mist</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><i>I guess our</i> summer is over</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i>Fly away to a warmer </i>sun</span><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><i>Dead </i>leaves touch the ground one by one</span><br />
<i><span style="color: #990000;">But we cant sit by</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #990000;">Without even goodbye</span></i><br />
<span style="color: #990000;"><i>Though our </i>summer <i>maybe </i>over</span><br />
<br />
[Signed by what reads like "Prosin"]<br />
<br />
<br />
Aww ... so it was a break up gift? The love, the thoughtfulness, the heartache? What was it? a summer or perhaps holiday romance?<br />
<br />
And finally after the cover page, in red<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgscUGvqdeo4ZP0DrpDvXF59ZZQSVZ575ysFOnUPZwkw5gvAJCGUO6t2cwsVO_e6rde-A_O6R2tFDpUZsyvvORKR5Eg-RfrkmeCROYP5VJfXliaCI_6Q_O6_cJpKaARMR-As22S1Q/s1600/Missive+in+red.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgscUGvqdeo4ZP0DrpDvXF59ZZQSVZ575ysFOnUPZwkw5gvAJCGUO6t2cwsVO_e6rde-A_O6R2tFDpUZsyvvORKR5Eg-RfrkmeCROYP5VJfXliaCI_6Q_O6_cJpKaARMR-As22S1Q/s640/Missive+in+red.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="color: red;">"When the chips are down, I guess you've got to say Goodbye. But its been a nice thing while it lasted. So for now, and for many more to come, Happy Birthday. [Sign illegible]</span><br />
<span style="color: red;">25/7/87</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
***</div>
Sigh! 29 years ago. Who wrote it?For whom? God knows ... but a tiny little "what might have been" nestled in another more famous love story.<br />
<br />
The book's yours. So you must have read it. Quite sure the writing and the poem is not your own, even though the copy is yours. Thought I'd share it here and now. For you R.....<br />
<br />
Missing you in so many ways!!<br />
Aka What I found inside a book!!<br />
<br />Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-70322240239153751322016-10-10T09:40:00.002+05:302016-10-10T09:40:58.479+05:30Durgotsab 2016 - Hindustan Road<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwoFVlGGiEnv6fsO_fPjI4gvGNn2UnaeCL3O2SJWAB-JtC1mhU35TNsXsbz7mdnCgMZUM-mlJs5WZHrNgmchEkbQIcjg5KFBgt-ko2VzFUzNgA4bQmyrTt3K-MZcg6esv0v7mvYw/s1600/1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwoFVlGGiEnv6fsO_fPjI4gvGNn2UnaeCL3O2SJWAB-JtC1mhU35TNsXsbz7mdnCgMZUM-mlJs5WZHrNgmchEkbQIcjg5KFBgt-ko2VzFUzNgA4bQmyrTt3K-MZcg6esv0v7mvYw/s640/1.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj70cSp4Yrl-eAnn2NiugjC4135qfD01vjnHmvujJtQSjYy-TxLe5xWmCta2OlfsyCWsMwCoUC47CNYzjCN8bifCNa5D2oAnxW8Y3KnUe6JMsxrJz-wdNXciIK-FYL-SldmH07G7w/s1600/2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj70cSp4Yrl-eAnn2NiugjC4135qfD01vjnHmvujJtQSjYy-TxLe5xWmCta2OlfsyCWsMwCoUC47CNYzjCN8bifCNa5D2oAnxW8Y3KnUe6JMsxrJz-wdNXciIK-FYL-SldmH07G7w/s640/2.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXRcEA4YMAda6AebRHQVNNCIOV4mTi3zQbe4CxoWSOqXkeitxp3Tj3ZouwzcSYCHhsAy3Wod9UzzjScDcGgJjVzHOVtmIeTX9jn62sOL61cu7hY8lTBtnsvtcl9m0Zjw1kSCPOeg/s1600/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXRcEA4YMAda6AebRHQVNNCIOV4mTi3zQbe4CxoWSOqXkeitxp3Tj3ZouwzcSYCHhsAy3Wod9UzzjScDcGgJjVzHOVtmIeTX9jn62sOL61cu7hY8lTBtnsvtcl9m0Zjw1kSCPOeg/s640/3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcAN4kTe72ob8JbzBZlrEaLP4gIdoE-_-CsgCUMuz-AzNlzkiwPDOc_95CaGNSDmEVecJBChHn3pkLnTWhDfMqNnMvfkOenXW05ifGVN0Xm2f9qkmiiP1kdsCPJ_U54HChxsA_Iw/s1600/a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcAN4kTe72ob8JbzBZlrEaLP4gIdoE-_-CsgCUMuz-AzNlzkiwPDOc_95CaGNSDmEVecJBChHn3pkLnTWhDfMqNnMvfkOenXW05ifGVN0Xm2f9qkmiiP1kdsCPJ_U54HChxsA_Iw/s640/a.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBk-gRHKQC86N9P9mVZb4pg9iSGevmTG42FI2LP6XVZULxcol-7pAZNo-4mwaZfzIAsoxP3oo7I6zitYWobK1ykp3Kt8E9svxvIntL09Lk2wBvjJPkVFbOrTES_zPo2TA1S-mCiQ/s1600/b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBk-gRHKQC86N9P9mVZb4pg9iSGevmTG42FI2LP6XVZULxcol-7pAZNo-4mwaZfzIAsoxP3oo7I6zitYWobK1ykp3Kt8E9svxvIntL09Lk2wBvjJPkVFbOrTES_zPo2TA1S-mCiQ/s640/b.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZXsE9pfq3XEh0CyHhb81yLB-w-8PEEgcfkY6NHTwweDmsu2oquGUHYKBlKyUpgpBwFoR7laWLliflF44l1b2qHK_sxgf940rUP_GBQjRbBQxfMShhRc3cL8BRgOAs0DjJqaO__Q/s1600/c.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZXsE9pfq3XEh0CyHhb81yLB-w-8PEEgcfkY6NHTwweDmsu2oquGUHYKBlKyUpgpBwFoR7laWLliflF44l1b2qHK_sxgf940rUP_GBQjRbBQxfMShhRc3cL8BRgOAs0DjJqaO__Q/s640/c.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-61561452253594818702016-10-06T16:36:00.002+05:302016-10-06T16:36:55.240+05:30Build up to Maddox Square<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Photos clicked on Sunday, two days after Mahalaya .. part of the build up to Durga Pujas. Maddox Square was a hive of activity. Still continues to be this morning when I went for my morning walk .. though only finishing touches remain as the race to complete by Shosti is on. Perhaps it was just as well that I went for a preview. The crowd is IMPOSSIBLE from Shosti to Dashami. Better this way. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieyd4clbI7V9D-YIeHuMWsJuNdbJHWIgDXOP0FwYgW58Utc9mXZssxFeaPxDzQzebNUnJ2UlLg49p_tuzLXBtwflfl_amVbPBpstBjjYxrr00T2ZrN6mpgvQSRucypBw-aVcWjWg/s1600/20161002_083224.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEieyd4clbI7V9D-YIeHuMWsJuNdbJHWIgDXOP0FwYgW58Utc9mXZssxFeaPxDzQzebNUnJ2UlLg49p_tuzLXBtwflfl_amVbPBpstBjjYxrr00T2ZrN6mpgvQSRucypBw-aVcWjWg/s400/20161002_083224.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqC9UETZMtnYSqzvgeDaedfwpdTTnvJsoN4sBUMx9zWKrLrD348U-YkeMkBysbukB_5O2ZKxGcuhIBN2axNd-emZ4IBUkTcjmkTVSiwPlr7ba9HUrPuRCLwPXAUyulunQWNSFGsg/s1600/20161002_083228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqC9UETZMtnYSqzvgeDaedfwpdTTnvJsoN4sBUMx9zWKrLrD348U-YkeMkBysbukB_5O2ZKxGcuhIBN2axNd-emZ4IBUkTcjmkTVSiwPlr7ba9HUrPuRCLwPXAUyulunQWNSFGsg/s400/20161002_083228.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcdpEb7s93kEurQTTdlNmqiHWifUG4Ir-VhO1G7HSgxdUrS2s5X9JY-pnZVQRr3DHDop3jNJXnVRA2jxMw7FyNm7msBbUDpNnSqZHTLivfLmhFkvoZrAq6dxmNNauaWK9vZkKNGw/s1600/20161002_083437.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcdpEb7s93kEurQTTdlNmqiHWifUG4Ir-VhO1G7HSgxdUrS2s5X9JY-pnZVQRr3DHDop3jNJXnVRA2jxMw7FyNm7msBbUDpNnSqZHTLivfLmhFkvoZrAq6dxmNNauaWK9vZkKNGw/s400/20161002_083437.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvOGxPKHHo4o5xpzHpos2OgJx-KaQEZ8T7Qob3mBCqz-yoIh5s6xMGpYtwCoiY7EjjexJOHQziHoXsq8zsmnaz6m4aOgOXUaM9jEnkxDbmqYXb4bt3qqy8-6EzDJuU1XfRsauPQ/s1600/20161002_083752.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyvOGxPKHHo4o5xpzHpos2OgJx-KaQEZ8T7Qob3mBCqz-yoIh5s6xMGpYtwCoiY7EjjexJOHQziHoXsq8zsmnaz6m4aOgOXUaM9jEnkxDbmqYXb4bt3qqy8-6EzDJuU1XfRsauPQ/s400/20161002_083752.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjpC9k0z8UY66B7fIgnIIZiGMGipGqzg_wxh8_Z8i1DnpotOHwYyJRP7pqXse0fclJZeareMgAhuPV-jJDJ3MwNR2xuxd9DTuuWFA1pj_SfZiijq1YNUggmXDNxTudLShZEeLp_A/s1600/20161002_083757.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjpC9k0z8UY66B7fIgnIIZiGMGipGqzg_wxh8_Z8i1DnpotOHwYyJRP7pqXse0fclJZeareMgAhuPV-jJDJ3MwNR2xuxd9DTuuWFA1pj_SfZiijq1YNUggmXDNxTudLShZEeLp_A/s400/20161002_083757.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjulSSRdDnTO8ZRf8uRz66GcP9gWY28AQ552PBupKLQrxa4NnsXFwtRaW_QKIMAp06Tc1eS-vLlZlVGManRWXKfgczyvGzkD4dMDTyR_y2koWz-Yfiuupju2JsXbagCC-CGMPcClQ/s1600/20161002_084116.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjulSSRdDnTO8ZRf8uRz66GcP9gWY28AQ552PBupKLQrxa4NnsXFwtRaW_QKIMAp06Tc1eS-vLlZlVGManRWXKfgczyvGzkD4dMDTyR_y2koWz-Yfiuupju2JsXbagCC-CGMPcClQ/s400/20161002_084116.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFkzb9VK2o9tL_pynfxv-ALBEsVQ-cFnAAdQ3_UEQXogmeGNdvFEPPMMaRg4WYF5NZ1Uf8-gV-jdLHgwhSHHyG3K_TDE-uZQbnNm2JiaIcOdqG-6yx5UACEWYHCNdDV35LsqLxcA/s1600/20161002_084426.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFkzb9VK2o9tL_pynfxv-ALBEsVQ-cFnAAdQ3_UEQXogmeGNdvFEPPMMaRg4WYF5NZ1Uf8-gV-jdLHgwhSHHyG3K_TDE-uZQbnNm2JiaIcOdqG-6yx5UACEWYHCNdDV35LsqLxcA/s400/20161002_084426.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7nxpgYgO64FiAo9htXdm3M81TvSCAjLUjUv0i1MfOrJ-RQe_O7MlJBFDEuC7Ch9ifKD0N5oIHBg0gk9Qu_KFYCdNjKeOuxUoefY0GKgec-QfKqeN9xAgpn6XpMGvwAf9tK-b96A/s1600/20161002_084657.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7nxpgYgO64FiAo9htXdm3M81TvSCAjLUjUv0i1MfOrJ-RQe_O7MlJBFDEuC7Ch9ifKD0N5oIHBg0gk9Qu_KFYCdNjKeOuxUoefY0GKgec-QfKqeN9xAgpn6XpMGvwAf9tK-b96A/s400/20161002_084657.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-13155761271580936192016-09-30T23:12:00.002+05:302016-09-30T23:15:33.996+05:30Subho Mahalaya!Mahalaya. Mahishashur Mardini on AIR with ma at early early am. Then what a great idea to go to Prinsep Ghat. Only so did a lot of others. Many many others. And followed us right upto Srihari for Kochuri and Langcha. But what the heck. Durga Puja is here!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwdzHstmJLgyOIf9DWIiWNsd85UH7k4cRWo_4VU35Luh9LB5KvBN7hb5sp1hUhHRimH43SBtlGwtxmfyktSNSZJoT5KFDap9pLBz4vmKbLdkOSClbT5yRkJg0GX0kkVGmFnea2Ww/s1600/20160930_080028.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwdzHstmJLgyOIf9DWIiWNsd85UH7k4cRWo_4VU35Luh9LB5KvBN7hb5sp1hUhHRimH43SBtlGwtxmfyktSNSZJoT5KFDap9pLBz4vmKbLdkOSClbT5yRkJg0GX0kkVGmFnea2Ww/s400/20160930_080028.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaM3aERCb0gAd81lWVcghyk0lq48YMqR0AlB9McOS7VN9yL9P4r3-BFe8A5FbipvXb3dVnFn0qyB2wmZkD7kVMHQpkeugdxka_eGo8IIl6r8KXD6sLZvXGNT61Le7FvxJjIpVXng/s1600/20160930_072940.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaM3aERCb0gAd81lWVcghyk0lq48YMqR0AlB9McOS7VN9yL9P4r3-BFe8A5FbipvXb3dVnFn0qyB2wmZkD7kVMHQpkeugdxka_eGo8IIl6r8KXD6sLZvXGNT61Le7FvxJjIpVXng/s400/20160930_072940.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibohK_vYxcAxYEHsBdt3lVMl7gSF9vWfNTGlnVaHvWRdZ06xwlmGHSKGVMtgb0_AxvwafUJZVSJmFLv1embNWC65p6wfMBU8g3uF75LUfG3KLl649A0kyovx3zgGM0K3gV9zpPKA/s1600/20160930_072622.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibohK_vYxcAxYEHsBdt3lVMl7gSF9vWfNTGlnVaHvWRdZ06xwlmGHSKGVMtgb0_AxvwafUJZVSJmFLv1embNWC65p6wfMBU8g3uF75LUfG3KLl649A0kyovx3zgGM0K3gV9zpPKA/s400/20160930_072622.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixxaok-WRxAvzwie6T99Xc6Pyb62arH9lsgJ-NM7s_PuuVP4E4-TooKEgHKzzDdV4-csISap0xBlobJqsr40cdeuwoICNIJhJ6U2kOwWChEDNYyqIn6oRceCL9_vFRyKZ8Saopig/s1600/20160930_073051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixxaok-WRxAvzwie6T99Xc6Pyb62arH9lsgJ-NM7s_PuuVP4E4-TooKEgHKzzDdV4-csISap0xBlobJqsr40cdeuwoICNIJhJ6U2kOwWChEDNYyqIn6oRceCL9_vFRyKZ8Saopig/s640/20160930_073051.jpg" width="358" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSsJdkswS2IyJmhbqiI_oGFBG4pNlKPKW4ml8NS30KQ16qljuvVEfgHhDo51yObeTr0M2oD4WRiTQVBxRsvKPTZywMWb3uy1Utfv6WKYToxm6uYML3RYkkilRnXZWmHRAHcrHORw/s1600/20160930_073100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSsJdkswS2IyJmhbqiI_oGFBG4pNlKPKW4ml8NS30KQ16qljuvVEfgHhDo51yObeTr0M2oD4WRiTQVBxRsvKPTZywMWb3uy1Utfv6WKYToxm6uYML3RYkkilRnXZWmHRAHcrHORw/s640/20160930_073100.jpg" width="360" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50Pf3cJDeiybEYhkPbCU7lOyO3uGcKhxic5D04Rg1lCjkyx3VJwGCfd0hyS1orPGU9kwLuX-I_XKRbvjVQNMOergoTkHrmZ5qgIOzzR-FewCB6KhIqL8IWKrA2bOny9bAOzZ1Zg/s1600/20160930_084300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi50Pf3cJDeiybEYhkPbCU7lOyO3uGcKhxic5D04Rg1lCjkyx3VJwGCfd0hyS1orPGU9kwLuX-I_XKRbvjVQNMOergoTkHrmZ5qgIOzzR-FewCB6KhIqL8IWKrA2bOny9bAOzZ1Zg/s400/20160930_084300.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-72503605706406164162016-05-23T16:26:00.002+05:302016-05-23T16:27:25.219+05:30For whom the bells tolled, pealed and madly so ... The <i><b>Cathedrale Saint-Etienne</b></i> was very close to our house, possibly the tallest structure in Meaux and can be seen from miles around. It has a bell tower which clangs to announce - you would think - the hour? Well, it rang at 1/4 past every hour, 10 minutes before every hour and sometimes much more than the hour it was supposed to announce! I'd catch myself gnashing my teeth ever so often and then stop as these were after all god's bells.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-99Ii-Q_OOKsOEg546r9QwGBtcQoXPq1Ea4ecmtjBTmE_zDH3GB7eJ3-__Gq5a0iP3TFWxW8e-smCTtB9tDrjMquem-zf3wLw8l-vD64CQmdm4-Eu85I5LgwbXprRYIguNQHTGQ/s1600/gf.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="417" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-99Ii-Q_OOKsOEg546r9QwGBtcQoXPq1Ea4ecmtjBTmE_zDH3GB7eJ3-__Gq5a0iP3TFWxW8e-smCTtB9tDrjMquem-zf3wLw8l-vD64CQmdm4-Eu85I5LgwbXprRYIguNQHTGQ/s640/gf.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
I lived in Meaux for two years around 2003 - 2004.Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-79006902172704553562016-05-22T08:29:00.002+05:302016-05-22T23:23:22.718+05:30A different sort of red kolkata<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Somewhere on Middleton Row, Kolkata. Panes missing, somewhat derelict but still beautiful <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGEXnybruR-hVipPjn_dNaqQw9wFOjSFHhIqha270HtVfE16hYVNkAY6GWihY4caRnv8gTv8Euwm-_VD6C-ckAkH8E_v-dYP9QI4HYVR29mvPFHalJr1t8A9NqqWoa6bqfcejQ7g/s1600/20160521_135502.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGEXnybruR-hVipPjn_dNaqQw9wFOjSFHhIqha270HtVfE16hYVNkAY6GWihY4caRnv8gTv8Euwm-_VD6C-ckAkH8E_v-dYP9QI4HYVR29mvPFHalJr1t8A9NqqWoa6bqfcejQ7g/s400/20160521_135502.jpg" width="400" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYv0OX6c3lBFNo1LW47B6FByVPjfSeS5TTECWKt3FKscXLGKOEYeIRsZs4tYvo6aUbJXnPRbXMZaF5iJap_FM3vuYqgO66TF4UU-w9OBK7n-4kuqPND4V3W6f-2Nx2UMoY6MmZqg/s1600/20160521_135518.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYv0OX6c3lBFNo1LW47B6FByVPjfSeS5TTECWKt3FKscXLGKOEYeIRsZs4tYvo6aUbJXnPRbXMZaF5iJap_FM3vuYqgO66TF4UU-w9OBK7n-4kuqPND4V3W6f-2Nx2UMoY6MmZqg/s640/20160521_135518.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFqsZweQRXy56LzD1RFj8MVVmEvZI4e_IA8h4yCTmXdjhfFAm3Sro4ucL8sd0ZKGI1V9eovWZImyhpbJtppZtHmHtCRgJtJ8cnofo5rq9FwTbKI5En4Prbm0LKk-aY9BUwDtEcdg/s1600/20160521_135531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFqsZweQRXy56LzD1RFj8MVVmEvZI4e_IA8h4yCTmXdjhfFAm3Sro4ucL8sd0ZKGI1V9eovWZImyhpbJtppZtHmHtCRgJtJ8cnofo5rq9FwTbKI5En4Prbm0LKk-aY9BUwDtEcdg/s400/20160521_135531.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-83116585839465324872016-05-04T20:28:00.000+05:302016-05-04T20:28:00.820+05:30The morning crosswordThe morning crossword.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTe3tnKgTTdy_o8uM6UN7BEqEkWOES5ALdO_JbjU9RR2Rqnm4cGtdY5fCqhpD9IJpVHu3lNGipOlItf4wC2PjXj_1ymZsIEwQTfPIUfPldAAnXFJ8FLdEj-yAylt3cpCUe_YwUcw/s1600/crossword+3.jpg" imageanchor="1"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTe3tnKgTTdy_o8uM6UN7BEqEkWOES5ALdO_JbjU9RR2Rqnm4cGtdY5fCqhpD9IJpVHu3lNGipOlItf4wC2PjXj_1ymZsIEwQTfPIUfPldAAnXFJ8FLdEj-yAylt3cpCUe_YwUcw/s640/crossword+3.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Lil
sis gets through it first. Then I fill in the blanks. And between the two of us, we solve the crossword each morning. Or we used to.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
For
as long as I can remember, she always had the first go. Even on those rare
days she would not, I'd feel guilty filling in a totally blank one.
First rights after all. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
How strange it is to find a blank crossword.I find myself starting each morning. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxU7miI7TtLavAIz64TCbneRhw1Tf7VVhT57fYBywiXnRCF9wCiqiQWSgNU0gPcqvA2-_nYzGJN6yWIN7r6EKSOXk0kWQ0A0O3XDv5DqW385YSjphrh-3Ez7GD2N0fB3cbQH5GA/s1600/crossword.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtxU7miI7TtLavAIz64TCbneRhw1Tf7VVhT57fYBywiXnRCF9wCiqiQWSgNU0gPcqvA2-_nYzGJN6yWIN7r6EKSOXk0kWQ0A0O3XDv5DqW385YSjphrh-3Ez7GD2N0fB3cbQH5GA/s640/crossword.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Then I remember, there is only me now. Lil sis has flown the coop. </div>
<div>
</div>
<div>
Seemingly small and insignificant rituals become so enormously important. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Missing you in so many ways!</div>
Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-63747799532871068032015-12-02T21:04:00.002+05:302015-12-02T21:04:45.317+05:30Calcutta Cutlet Experience<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiziu3SEA9EBMFAN9FFnJTfG28YCtUfvHOp0sCa6W0ysqpW7ou9wqaVBEJgwHUtV3y7yNBkBZHDtF87GaW74vgY3wTp-bEF7P8oe_uiMZJJOqhEjAJDJfMGf8ckPCPeu-fisgYNJQ/s1600/20151202_193044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiziu3SEA9EBMFAN9FFnJTfG28YCtUfvHOp0sCa6W0ysqpW7ou9wqaVBEJgwHUtV3y7yNBkBZHDtF87GaW74vgY3wTp-bEF7P8oe_uiMZJJOqhEjAJDJfMGf8ckPCPeu-fisgYNJQ/s640/20151202_193044.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
On my way home from weaver's centre walked passed baked and fried. Like I have before. Only this time, I stopped and ordered 4 chicken cutlets. Ah what an experience. That little shop in a garage, that bhishon bangali owner and staff, the regular clientele, that auto ride home with the cutlets warm in their box, against my legs, ah the aroma as I sat sandwiched between two commuters - fellow savorers I imagine. And then home and ma's carefully concealed delight and baba's extremely mild curiousity (!!), Ah the cutlets, those slim sticks of cucumber, carrot and onions and pungent Kasundi. Tea. Life if good. Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-43979321584895523842015-04-21T22:22:00.000+05:302015-04-21T22:30:20.597+05:30The Tutor: Andrea ChapinLovely Kate meets Will and make poetry. In between there lies Queen
Elizabeth's England, persecution of Catholics, a death or two, passion
and betrayal and love and longing. Andrea Chapin's first novel is a
marvellous historical fiction and a very entertaining read. She weaves a
clever story around William Shakespeare and Katherine de L'Isle and how
he persuades her to help him with his poetry. The image of a brash
upstart over smart William stays long after the story ends and we are
united with Kate as we shake our heads and say "How could you?".<br />
<br />
Waiting for your next one Andrea Chapin!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTo4EgVuwwsLIn_YasYaDqyN1MyI3pSpc0yOO47EuHQVUWiS3fffC7t-oLTyKJw34iv1YxJNhdIfMO73mAIxgmL0B98pFuRKzzqlX_VT_ymF__lyI-619NyuMdwq2pW76hJSWYJA/s1600/ows_142257877090572.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTo4EgVuwwsLIn_YasYaDqyN1MyI3pSpc0yOO47EuHQVUWiS3fffC7t-oLTyKJw34iv1YxJNhdIfMO73mAIxgmL0B98pFuRKzzqlX_VT_ymF__lyI-619NyuMdwq2pW76hJSWYJA/s1600/ows_142257877090572.jpg" height="640" width="425" /></a></div>
Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-69401037884934444732014-08-13T20:51:00.000+05:302014-08-13T20:51:09.219+05:30TsundokuTsundoku - Japanese for accumulating piles of unread books. That is me. Thing is I can't help buying books and then also get tons from the public library which get reading preference on account of "due by date". And my own accumulate, unread. From years back. Too precious for me to discard. Too busy to read them.<br />
<br />
Got it from <a href="http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/compulsive-collecting-the-things-we-cant-help-hanging-on-to-206504" target="_blank">here</a>!<br /><br />Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-47882164064628919572014-07-02T21:30:00.003+05:302014-07-02T21:33:00.456+05:30The Perfect LunchPerfect weather, beautiful place, striking people and then just the lunch waiting for us in quiet Rupkona village. The menu - rice, dal, sag, kundru's sabzi, tomato relish. Perfect. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8tlRHADz-_H-w0HgknMdEcxnokLcW2nI-rjA3DyDUVJLpZ4rI6wbHT_p4xeOLgwE6picGNWYl7hPUgdlKDtw1yJ0R7R7Aby-Vtk4A0AAOBQbnR66Yd1mrDQYBei2ClG38T_9XSw/s1600/Lunch1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8tlRHADz-_H-w0HgknMdEcxnokLcW2nI-rjA3DyDUVJLpZ4rI6wbHT_p4xeOLgwE6picGNWYl7hPUgdlKDtw1yJ0R7R7Aby-Vtk4A0AAOBQbnR66Yd1mrDQYBei2ClG38T_9XSw/s1600/Lunch1.jpg" height="640" width="384" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Luunch at Rupkona village, Rayagada district, Odisha</div>
Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-47681235548132962852014-06-29T10:48:00.000+05:302014-06-29T10:56:35.837+05:30Review: Arctic Summer <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHOs_V6NuvqaIixnW3kqjE2bGllU7p3EHYkRPs9OmV8qbIq62aXgMK82xqNYvG9_vsX3dt7yxQIfhH2m0YGSDj0LUJpSF77M0iSSUBExmn-qkkcq4Bhy8YL7M9PuzgSm9OhIK2lA/s1600/AS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHOs_V6NuvqaIixnW3kqjE2bGllU7p3EHYkRPs9OmV8qbIq62aXgMK82xqNYvG9_vsX3dt7yxQIfhH2m0YGSDj0LUJpSF77M0iSSUBExmn-qkkcq4Bhy8YL7M9PuzgSm9OhIK2lA/s1600/AS.jpg" height="640" width="414" /></a></div>
Arctic Summer. An incredibly intimate, sensitive journey into the life and passions of Edward Morgan Forester. The book among other things takes the reader through a largish part of EMF's life -- in particular his two loves - one unrequited and the other where he finds fulfilment and woven in between these two is the slow development of his magnum opus "A passage to India".<br />
<br />
This is my first Galgut. I have read EMF's Howard's End, A room with a view and the hugely entertaining "The Hill of Devi" - an account of his year at Dewas Senior as Secretary to the Maharaja. But I have not read "A Passage to India".<br />
<br />
I have also read some of his letters or journal extracts and was already familiar with EMF - the man. That is perhaps why, Damon Galgut's portrayal of EMF felt authentic. Or perhaps it was just the magic of Mr. Galgut.<br />
<br />
I could feel EMF's internal hesitations, the awkwardness of not fitting in, his twisting his fingers or stumbling at the edge of the carpet and then feeling embarrassed about it, his pain, his loneliness. It was as if I was there with him in England when he was "Poppy" to his overbearing mother, in the bus in Egypt seeing the bus conductor Mohammed, in the hot and dusty Dewas with Bapu Sahib, In his rooms, in the horse drawn carriage where he imagines the young <i>sais </i>leaning inches from him; and everywhere else...<br />
<br />
Mr. Galgut, thankyou for this journey.<br />
<br />
PS - I also highly recommend "<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Hill_of_Devi" target="_blank">The Hill of Devi</a>".<br />
<br />
Arctic Summer<br />
ALEPH Book Company<br />
Pages: 355<br />
Price: Rs. 595Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-29557955529285492832014-03-15T15:50:00.003+05:302014-03-15T15:50:53.706+05:30Janakpur Jaoge?At last we arrive at Janakpur, Koria District, Chhatisgarh. Even the smallish Ambikarpur, from where we had begun four hours earlier, is gigantic in comparison.<br />
<br />
A quick tea later, we hit the dirt road to the Villages for my official field visit. Like everywhere where else in Chhatisgarh, the wide open expanses are a constant source of surprise. The car stops on a sleepy little dirt track, we get off and walk across fields and up to two mud huts in the middle of nowhere. As we near the huts, we are greeted by a pint sized thin as a reed totally naked boy who goes straight upto Fr. Xaxa and lisps in Sadri 'where did the car come from? I want to go to Jankpur'. Fr. Xaxa points at me and says"madam has come in it".<br />
<br />
Half an hour later, when we are returning after our survey of the field and meeting with a few farmers, there is little Kisan ... dressed in his best shirt and shorts with both eyes shining in anticipation of Madam taking him in the car to far away Janakpur.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF_QQ2kdgfss2uS6ieE9V9EelBdhnixXW83hLyDMVGk-o_BrMK3lQpJ84BcN43woH_CFj-RzYuVWrq4UmAqdIrSffkoaMw3sDnQVLu-0v0NsxWlDskU_Wq7FR8g0b8KWVd1xBdyw/s1600/Kisan+kumar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhF_QQ2kdgfss2uS6ieE9V9EelBdhnixXW83hLyDMVGk-o_BrMK3lQpJ84BcN43woH_CFj-RzYuVWrq4UmAqdIrSffkoaMw3sDnQVLu-0v0NsxWlDskU_Wq7FR8g0b8KWVd1xBdyw/s1600/Kisan+kumar.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
Surprising that a tiny town like this even exists today in the jostling India of more than a billion. But apparently a comatose town to one can be a fabled Shangrila to others.<br />
<br />
Alas, with a heavy heart, Madam has to leave.Without him. But Kisan is going to go far, far beyond Janakpur. One day.Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-87239931881903328782013-08-28T21:11:00.002+05:302013-08-28T21:11:57.261+05:30Krishna JanmashtamiOur apartment was redolent with the aroma of the frying 'taler - bora' or tal (palm sap) pakora, this rain soaked afternoon.<br />
<i><br /></i>
Afterall it is Krishna Janmashtami!<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOU0_PNnof6bAZtHL0szTs80QigRoCVDTX-QpWari9jbapqNCKdPGp4tu76LMGOqrUL9Gii2xGDHtW6U10VxFm8T4y8s1hY3Lc18r2z-SJ9zQq03p1ZgihZqxSDKydsE3FLuqrfA/s1600/20130828_153408.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOU0_PNnof6bAZtHL0szTs80QigRoCVDTX-QpWari9jbapqNCKdPGp4tu76LMGOqrUL9Gii2xGDHtW6U10VxFm8T4y8s1hY3Lc18r2z-SJ9zQq03p1ZgihZqxSDKydsE3FLuqrfA/s640/20130828_153408.jpg" width="640" /></a><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhqNHqRkIRESptpVApLrRVdCa8aZmv6_SfwyvXEGqE_9u42hVtK8t88-HTp34l0bNLU66nr6l3q1fKC0_AkraYqr3w8G2XOGIs3TZZlJvKHLdKM1NMjZ9xHfsTzaKr4Z7ATX_eHw/s1600/20130828_153402.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhqNHqRkIRESptpVApLrRVdCa8aZmv6_SfwyvXEGqE_9u42hVtK8t88-HTp34l0bNLU66nr6l3q1fKC0_AkraYqr3w8G2XOGIs3TZZlJvKHLdKM1NMjZ9xHfsTzaKr4Z7ATX_eHw/s640/20130828_153402.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
As much as both the rains and taler bora are traditional Janmashatmi events, so is distributing boxes of the afore mentioned tal er bora to friends and family! Thankgod. It is quite difficult to stop eating them ...Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6137027.post-21582483540482413542013-08-20T10:03:00.003+05:302013-08-20T10:05:17.190+05:30Crimson Pride!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The dominant colour this rainy month has been gray in many many many shades! The <i>jaba </i>- (in Bengali) and hibiscus to the rest thought otherwise! </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnVu4jxUwgEEhSSD1VmGR9G7WciCU_2pnSLO-OXvtxgS2PNZBweT5Lh6rOBf_fcr1UGL8fXl-sivUB27QcDIdNheOixdWTv6U_nNTq8bvJlj5uZLymZ_HDH1CiE6tXCIs3oMM4ig/s1600/20130818_152257.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnVu4jxUwgEEhSSD1VmGR9G7WciCU_2pnSLO-OXvtxgS2PNZBweT5Lh6rOBf_fcr1UGL8fXl-sivUB27QcDIdNheOixdWTv6U_nNTq8bvJlj5uZLymZ_HDH1CiE6tXCIs3oMM4ig/s640/20130818_152257.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
Ma's verandah. Soggy August afternoon in Kolkata.</div>
<br />Sukanya Chttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16486401438740384263noreply@blogger.com1