Notes from wherever I happen to be...

Too Crow-ded

2012-01-28T11:55:00.006+05:30

Ah. Gone is the terrible chill that creeps around the time of the Ganga Sagar mela and settles in to our top floor north west facing flat and seriously gets me depressed. I really don't relish holidays or weekends "chilling" at home, in winters! So, last Sunday (or perhaps the one before that), armed with a madur, a bag full of books, my cell, a cushion and a thick shawl, I crept up to the terrace. Took a few minutes to settle down properly and then ah! How I soaked up the warmth. I should do this more often, I thought. I guess I haven't done this at all last winter and this winter, this was my first. And how good of all the other residents to keep away, leaving the terrace to me! And strangely, even the crows weren't around. Great! Thanks to Ma's daily ritual of feeding them and their progeny for nearly 10 years, perhaps longer, anyone's entrance to the chhad has pavlov's dog effect on them - hundreds of crows, cawing and congregating like in the Hitchcock night mare.

But, this bliss was shortlived. Soon, one by one, the crows started arriving. Cawing and flying around, as if calling their brethren. Argh. It was so irritating. I looked around to see if I could find something I could throw at the one nearest to me, and found my cell phone. Which ofcourse I couldn't / wouldn't hurl at them. So, I decided to take a photo. (Why? dont ask...one of those spur of the moment things). However, that worked. As soon as I would point the cell at any crow, it would swoop away. Amazing. It would return but after a while. And so there I was, half sitting, half lying on the madur, like a mad lady pointing at the crows in turn, shouting take that you foul fiend, you! And I chuckled madly as I did so.

And what do you know, the elderly gentleman who too had crept up to the adjacent terrace for a bit of the sun, crept downstairs as quietly as he had come!

Anyhow, I have had my one whole day of sun-on-the-terrace for this winter. Now with Saraswati Pujo, weather is decidedly warmer and the winter is gone!

PS: - If you wish to read about Saraswati pujo's past and more fun activities on our terrace, here are two past-posts for you:

Saraswati Pujo Post - Belatedly

A roof with a view

A little bit of magic!

2012-01-17T19:09:00.009+05:30

It's not always hard work, only. Sometimes, I get lucky. Like last December when I was in Bhubaneswar for the first ever Inter State Meeting of parents of children with Deafness (from our project area in Madhya Pradesh, West Bengal, Odisha and Assam), there was this lovely Odisha Handicrafts mela bang in between the venue and my guest house. So, post programme, I got to see the mela....the fairy lights did SO beckon!

The typical Odisha cloth lanterns strung on trees

turning the busy road in to fairy land!

And I did so want that yellow bird for myself....don't quite know why I didn't buy it. In hindsight, this was not the time to curb "impulsive buying"!

PS - Orissa is now officially Odisha from 4th November, 2011.

"Hariye Jaowa Din", Reminiscences of Bina Dey

2012-01-14T19:50:00.006+05:30

A hand-painted greetings card by Bina Dey, October 4, 1933

Photo courtesy: Mukul Dey Archives

It's that time of the year again: The International Kolkata Book Fair which begins on the 25th and ends on the 5th of february. And for me and art lovers, here is a treat to look forward to:

"HARIYE JAOWA DIN", REMINISCENCES OF BINA DEY

At the fag end of her days Bina Dey[1906 - 1999], Mukul Dey's wife, recounted the story of her life and experiences to Ms. Anjali Bandopadhyay of Kolkata. Since 1996-97 Anjali took a number of audio interviews of Bina, extended over a period of about two years. "Hariye Jaowa Din" will be a compilation of Bina's interviews by Anjali, which is scheduled to be published in early 2012 by Papyrus, Kolkata.

Bina's reminiscence recounts in great detail her first marital home at the village of Moluti at the Birbhum - Jharkhand border, when she was the bride of Sharadindu Chattopadhyay, a well known Congress worker of Birbhum.

Bina's book will have rich illustrations by Mukul Dey and others, along with an interesting collection of rare photographs.

My earliers posts on Book Fairs past:

Miles to go before we sleep

Kolkata Book Fair 2009

Elephantine Task

2012-01-10T19:36:00.004+05:30

Two stories made it to the headlines today. One is an elephantine saga that has pretty much played out in public space, consuming public money, not to mention time. Shame that it does. The other has been going on for as long as one can remember. A long time. However, it does not take up much of public / media time and space. Only once in a while when a report is published. Shame that it doesn't. Yet, neither has any effect on anyone whatsoever.

208 elephant statues, 2 statues of Mayawati, several elephant door handles, elephant fountains, Mayawati pillars and chakras have to be covered before the UP polls. So they are being draped with pink polythene (neutral colour) since elephant happens to be BSP's symbol. 1.6km of pink polythene. And at a cost of Rs. 1 crore. And this elephantine task has to be completed by 5pm of January 11, 2012 to meet the Election Commission's deadline.

Well that was the first story. The other one is that 42% of India's children are malnourished and stunted. That is around 61 million. That is one in three malnourished child on the planet is an Indian according to the HUNGaMa (Hunger and Malnutrition) report. But here, alas, there is no deadline at all.

Full text of the Prime Minister's Speech on the HUNGaMa Report.

The HUNGaMa Report itself.

Goodbye to all that....

2011-12-31T20:39:00.003+05:30

Goodbye 2011 and hello 2012! And a new look to a site which is nearly a decade old! Thanks for stopping by!

Review: Oscar Wilde and the Nest of Vipers

2011-12-27T22:33:00.003+05:30

So then Oscar Wilde and his pal Arthur Conan Doyle go about solving a series of crimes in end of the century (19th) London. And so his milieu is littered with names and events which is familiar to even me (in the 21st century) sitting so far away in kolkata. And after pages of pages of wit, fun and great conversation, one does get to know who it was who did it, we are also pleasantly surprised at how Watson like ACD happens to be and how ACD got his idea for so many of his holmesian plots from their current adventures! And oh there is Bram Stoker not yet written his most famous work and that is how Jane Avril got her name did she? And all this in the midst of a murder (or two) most foul. hmm. Thankyou Gyles Brandreth for the Oscar Wilder Murder Mysteries.

And I say this even if I began by reading Oscar Wilde and the Viper's Nest - the 4th and the latest book in this series. The "Game" my friends, is definitely afoot!

Postcards by Nandalal Bose

2011-12-15T19:35:00.003+05:30

Akar Prakar brings a fabulous exhibitions - Postcards by Nandalal Bose. It was such an immense pleasure going through the rich collection, seeing the drawings, often accompanied by his comments in bengali and that thrill to see the master signing off as "Nanda"!

Its a beautiful world, indeed

2011-11-29T19:48:00.008+05:30

West Bengal Hasta Shilpa Mela (Handicraft Fair) - artists and their art from all over West Bengal - the infinite variety, the sheer artistry and skill on display. Mind boggling.

Brass work

Talk Bangla Talk

2011-11-28T13:24:00.001+05:30

When I returned to Kolkata in 2008, one of the things I loved the most was the luxury of speaking and being completely understood and responded to, in bengali.....This is kolkata, after all.

For quite some time after that, it would take me by surprise and I’d feel a childish elation each time, I spoke to a taxi driver, a passer by, in the bank, at the movie hall in bengali....what fun. (Except Inox Forum where everyone stubbornly sticks to English...).

This was almost like the fun and the thrill that even the smallest of conversations in french would bring to me, when I was in France! Except its been three years that I am back and yet, cabbies, bus conductors, auto drivers, shop assistants will speak to me in Hindi. Even if I reply in Bengali, they will try out their best hindi on me!

Belated Durga Puja Post

2011-11-23T19:59:00.004+05:30

The Durga Pujas.That Annual break for all in West Bengal (and elsewhere too wherever there are Bengalis, worldwide)!

four days of no deadlines, no work pressure, total standstill. And what a pleasure it is, year after year.

However, this Durga puja, I did not visit a single pandal, not even my para pujo – Maddox Square. Did not venture out for pandal hopping in the wee hours of the morning or late at night or at any other time. In fact, did not feel the slightest pang on missing out on Singhi Park, Tridhara Sammelani, Chaltabaga, Mohammad Ali Park… Nothing!

Does that mean I did not enjoy the pujos? Ofcourse not. I did. But in a different way.

Met up with pals for a long over due no holds barred Adda seesions but spaced out properly – one per day. The rest of the day was spent lazing at home – family lunch – something rarely done since I am always at work or on tour; post lunch siesta, half asleep with the anandamela puja barshiki, watching a rerun of a feluda (Kakababu was an added bonus).

Both maids were on leave so rolling out rotis with ma, catching the matinee show of the puja release Baishe Shrabon at Priya and being pleasantly surprised at its watchability; strolling on the chhad in the evenings watching the lights of the various pandals casting a grayish hue to the night sky. Cell phone being jammed with subho bijoya messages!

Ah! Abaar Ashche bochor! And with it perhaps another new way of enjoying the pujas?!

Review: The Midnight Palace by Carlos Ruiz Zafon

2011-11-07T11:11:00.007+05:30

I'll Never forget the night it snowed over Kolkata".

With such an opening sentence, how could I possibly not pick up Carlos Ruiz Zafon's The Midnight Palace, run home and read it?

The story is set in Calcutta and spans a period 1916-32. The plot is interesting enough - adventure, love, betryal, magic etc but the setting is what thrilled me - Brabourne Road, Hooghly, Chowringhee Road etc and as these still exist in its current avatar ofcourse. As I was reading the lines between make believe and real life sort of blurred as I visualized these very places as they were back the, wider, emptier. "An old textile ware house, the walls of which were covered in official notices announcing its imminent demolition..." had me wondering how somethings never change in Calcutta - even today there are so many such places, just like back in 1916?

If I have my facts right, a Spaniard, living in the US has written this book. I ofcourse have no idea if he has visited India /Kolkata. Maybe he did. Maybe he took some one's help. Maybe he has a calcutta connection...I muse a bit awestruck. And then I run into the most ridiculous name of a pivotal character in the book - not an instance of getting regions mixed up (like till very recently an Indian would mean a man in a turban, no matter which part of the country he was from) . It is a horrible horrible mockery of a bengali name.

Am so very glad that it (this name) was somewhere pages down in the book and not in the opening sentence. I would have not progressed beyond the first line, never picked up the book and found out about the night "it snowed over Calcutta"!

Review: A Winter on the Nile

2011-10-26T18:50:00.006+05:30

Florence Nightangle and Gustave Flaubert travel to Egypt in 1849 and down the Nile and back within days of each other but don't meet. They seem to successfully dodge each other by a few hours, days or month. Both in their twenties and not yet famous. Both "find" their calling or have their doubts cleared and return from the trip to their destinies for which they become famous. Florence Nightangle becomes the lady with the Lamp and Gustave pens Madame Bovary. The narrative tour down the Nile and back is fascinating to say the least. Luxor, Aswan, Karnak, Abu Simbel, Philea, Heliolpolis...

Lucky that Anthony Sattin found the coincidence of their spending "A Winter on the Nile".

Waiting for Ma Kali

2011-10-18T19:54:00.003+05:30

Passed this kumhar busy at work shaping the Kali pratima near kalighat.

The World Beyond: Review

2011-09-07T20:15:00.007+05:30

Another raj story; english girl meets her prince charming. And he is tall, dark, handsome and a prince to boot. A nawab. The inevitable happens. But does love triumph in the end? Well, you have to read Sangeeta Bhargava's The World Beyond to find out.

For me, what works and really well is Lucknow on the eve of and build up to the momentous uprising of 1857 soon to follow. She is the real heroine of the story. About those who love her and those who covet her, her rise and her fall. Some of the parts were so well written that I could see the story playout as if in a movie. Hmm. An idea that?

The beautiful cover - shades of blue, pink, red and gold is perfectly captures the essence of the world in which this story is paced. But one jarring note - the heroine is shown wearing a sari - how we wear it now. I think this was not in vogue during then. However a minor error...I need not be so nitpicking.

Rakhi in the rain

2011-08-13T21:34:00.003+05:30

There we were, in a bus, stuck the kalighat crossing, in pouring rain. On the right hand side, at the mouth of the famous lane - a rakhi festival was on in full swing. Oof the Bhai chara, armed with rakhis and umbrellas!

Dotty over Dora

2011-08-12T21:31:00.002+05:30

We've never had any pet and are not about to (discounting my mother's daily ritual of throwing scraps to crows on the terrace every evening). The closest we ever came to having a pet was when we moved into a new appartment building and met our new neighbours (across the landing) walking an adorable, warm-golden labrador. Slowly we got introduced, started dropping into each other's homes and became friends. And that is how Dora came into our lives. But she was unlike any dog we had ever known. No boisterous jumping around, joyous barking, running, shuffling and the hundred and one mad cap things that dogs do when they are happy (which is pretty much most of the time...dogs are generally happy creatures) or snarl, growl when they are upset. Her owners, a lovely elderly couple were very proud of her behaviour.

She was very cuddly and a very warm golden and most visitors would pat her or cuddle her. She exhibited no emotions. Not exactly a stoic tolerance. More a regal disregard. Yes that is how she was! If ever she found the doors to both our apparments open, she'd silently walk into ours and head straight for Ma and sit obediently in front of her on her hind paws and look beseechingly up at her. If ma ignored her (or was a bit late in responding), she'd raise a paw and gently lay into on my ma's foot. This meant - I want a sweet. Ma would give it to her, she would eat it and depart as silently as she had come. No loitering around.

Once a year, on Dora's birthday, a yellow ribbon would be tied to her tail and she would be fed as many sweets as she wanted to eat - or as many sweets that friends and neighbours would bring for her. We did too. All of the four years she was our neighbour. We no longer felt aunty and uncle's dotting over Dora strange.

She developed a rather prominent tumour on her under belly and despite a lot of medical intervention, slowly deteriorated. One day as I entered our building, I found Uncle walking unsteadily towards me. "Dora is no more," he said, his voice breaking and very uncharecteristically for him, leaned down and put his head on my shoulders. At that moment, I felt his loss as deeply as he did.

Now our lovely, gentle, polite Uncle too is no more. But there is one story we never tire of recounting. Once a long time ago, they had bought three tickets on a flight to Bagdogra. While boarding, the steward said that a dog wouldn't be allowed in the cabin. Uncle said that then all three wouldn't go. The captain agreed to let Dora travel in the cabin - strapped into her own seat. "And how was she during the flight?" I asked. "A bit nervous during take off, but after that she behaved like a lady."

And I know that they are in a better place, Uncle, gentle, loving walking with the lady like Dora by his side!

Modern Village Art

2011-06-23T19:55:00.000+05:30

Colours of Orissa

2011-06-22T21:08:00.003+05:30

A beautiful, traditional mural in a village in Ganjam district of Orissa.

A tree grows...

2011-06-20T19:57:00.004+05:30

...in the narrow strip of a garden on one side of our NGO. A lone mango tree which every mango season gives ... mangoes!

But it has not been that easy. Our man Friday Hemantada, the self professed mango expert, insists that the tree groaning under the weight of mangoes, are not ready for plucking . All the while, the lucious fruits distract us to madness (and greed).

We do try to sneak at them. However, the wasp's hive on the upper branches, scared us off successfully; Two intrepid staff (young boys both) climbed the tree and did pick a few…[while I panicked on terra firma, should they slip and end up with a fracture or worse, concussion].

Upset with our (mostly mine) constant nagging, he did pick them and kept them in a rather public place for ripening. And in came a bunch of visitors in several cars and their drivers had a merry time helping themselves.

To do away with all that, this year, hemantada quietly plucked away all the mangoes and stashed them away somewhere secret. And what with the endless touring (which has been merciless this few months) and then the rains and the fishes and the khichuri, we forgot about the mangoes.

And then this morning we saw Hemantada coming downstairs with a box...

Rainy day Magic

2011-06-18T20:27:00.005+05:30

Rainy day. Somehow, for me, the term is synoymous with a near empty school. The students who braved the elements and turned up would be at the receiving end of a tongue lashing from teacher. But there would be a chapa excitement...a sort of infectitious holiday mood and after a while, a rainy day would be declared and school would close early.

And even now, rainy day ... when it just doesnt rain, but so much so that office is near empty, feels cosy and fun. I can't explain why. It just does. Skies still grey and over cast. Only 15 of us turned up (which is less than half). And no sooner had I mentioned Khichuri, everyone swung into action...

Drawing up a shopping list, buying the ingredients, chopping, peeling, grating, roasting ....

And while the khichuri was being cooked, we ate our lunches - the ones we brought from home!

And then we all sat down to what was undoubtedly one of the best lunches in a while ... khichuri and begun bhaja.

Its the magic of rainy day at work, at work!

Shopping list - "phordo"

And finally!

Rainy day

2011-06-17T16:54:00.003+05:30

Its been raining non-stop since noon yesterday. I for once am not complaining. This is infinitely more comfortable than the humid sogginess. Minor discomforts like getting drenched on the way to work and back home are ok. I am even prepared to over look the narrow strip right in front of my office where the drain overflows lovingly onto the road and we have to walk through it (ugh)!

Buses were few today. I got up on one this morning where I was possibly the only passenger (bad for business). The others were helpers and conductors. After much hemming and hawing and deciphering of the owners phone numbers which was scribbled on to the board above the drivers seat, the driver rang the owner and told him that the water was thigh high on the road. It wasn’t! However his appeal did not work. The owner asked him to continue.

The minor discomfort of wading through the drain water (I and all my collagues simply have a good foot bath on reaching work), we settled down to another day. However, there was some excitement. There are many ponds in and around the area which overflow into the drains and there were koi carp swimming just behind our office. Two field staff had, well, a field day catching them with an umbrella.

The koi which swam up the pond and ended in the drain...

Koi is now Rs. 400 a kilo in the market. So great!

Another 24 hours of rains predicted.

And no, I am not taking the drain kois home.

Something new, in Bhopal

2011-06-15T23:08:00.004+05:30

I did something entirely new this time, in Bhopal. Something entirely new since I started visiting Bhopal (way back in April 2009). That is a period of 802 days. Once a month visit makes it 30 visits or so in which the pattern never changed. Never wavered even. Airport / station / hotel / meetings / reports / visits ad nauseum (except two half days for a quick and incredibly guilt inducing trips to Sanchi and Bhimbetka).

So what was it? Can you imagine I spent it in company of friends?! And not the squeezing in of one more report, some more planning and yet more telephonic barking at my state teams (after office hours), or vegetating in my room (the faulty TV remote usually means I am stuck watching a crappy channel and too drained to manually change the channels).

Old friends first. My dad's colleague from so very long ago, who have known me since birth. here I was meeting them after a gap of two decades or so...and enjoying their pleasure in meeting me and recounting tales of yore!

New friends next - some one I met only 3 days ago in Kolkata at another friends place. The first thing she said to me was please tell me why are you coming to Bhopal? I mean, this is not the best time to sight see. On work. Oh! Well come visit us. And so I did.

And I was pleasantly surprised to find that it was, well, very pleasant and refreshing! Out out damn guilt.

And as if to share in my happiness, the weather too unwinded dutifully each evening after a hot draining day, by pouring....

Tram-pled

2011-05-26T19:41:00.004+05:30

It had to happen. Work on the metro link on DH road had begun a bit after Taratolla flyover and upto the tram depot. Which meant Joka to Tram Depot and back was what the tram route had been restricted to.

Today, as I took an auto (upto Taratolla) from work, I saw a few buses on the tram track, people "eating air" bang in the centre of the track. Yes. Trams will no longer ply on that left over stretch. The old gives way to the new. Has to. Progress and all that.

Soon they will be a memory only. But not one we will forget soon. My past musings on the tram below:

Tram that Auto.

And Quietly goes the tram.

Ever wonder about Trams in Kolkata?

Nicely Done, Nagpur

2011-04-20T21:08:00.002+05:30

As soon I boarded the night train from Bhopal to Nagpur, I began itching all over. I thought it might be bed bugs (in a train??) and realised that I was having an allergy attack and I spent the 7 hours sitting on the edge of a lower berth in the dark ... thankful it was night and everyone was too busy sleeping instead of watching me in my plight.

Nagpur arrived at 4am and dark, the streets deserted. I got into an auto and asked the driver to take me to an all night pharmacy. Which he did promptly. The two attendants had to be woken up and bleary eyed gave me some medicines. As I paid, the auto driver told me, "I will take you to a government hostpital. The emergency will be open." Dont risk taking medication without asking a doctor. OK, I said. And he did. I wondered if I'd have to leave my suitcase and laptop behind in the auto...The driver solved the problem. He took my suitcase and laptop and shepparded me to a window; "yahan say 5 rupay ka ek slip lijiye". I did. Then he took me to another room where there was an attendant who took my slip and called a young lady who looked like she had just woken up. She gave me an anti-allergen shot and asked the driver if I was going somewhere close by. haan. Dus minute main hotel pahuncha doonga. Ok. And that was indeed that. In 10 minutes I was at the hotel and another 15, snug in my bed, all itches gone and all nicely drowsy by the shot. And did you know, the driver didnot even ask me for more fare for this detour. I very happily paid him more than double of what he had asked, knowing even then, it was a very small way to say thankyou.

Nagpur has been a transit point for the nearly 2 and a half years I have been to-ing and fro-ing Bhopal. All I see is the airport, the station, the cabbie, the auto driver and one hotel where I sometimes spend a night. I dont know anyone. And yet...these extremely brief encounters have been pleasant ones. And after that fateful night...I am overwhelmed. Nagpur & Nagpurians...Nicely Done.

Blissful in Puri

2011-03-06T08:39:00.009+05:30

This time in Puri a miracle happened! My meetings (usually endless & draining) actually ended at 5pm. The weather was on the verge of cool. Winter gone, summer approaching and so perfect for a stroll down the really wide Grand Road upto the Puri temple ... something I haven't been bothered to do or find time for, in earlier visits.

After a certain point on Grand road cars are not allowed. This is more than made up for by million cycles, motorbikes and scooters who drive around to some pre-programmed manic circuit. Cows lolled in the middle of the road, oblivious, chewing cud while the bulls stood immobile, impassive, as if they owned the world, which they quite possibly did. Those mad cyclists and bikers might run over an unsuspecting passer by, but never a cow or bull!

I savoured the cool air stopping occasionally at a road side stalls, often no more than wares spread on a plastic sheet selling local knick knacks or religious parapharnelia, to look at the wares

women rolling out endless cotton wicks for votive diyas at the temple

or take a photo, or admire an old building which suddenly would appear from among the usual ugly decrepit ones...

or asking a policeman to shoo away a calf trying to eat the leather seat of parked bike or help out a gujrati to explain that batata was aloo and sweet potato was Kandamul in Oriya (With the help of my Oriya colleague ofcourse)!

the famed chena pora of Puri

The man in bright orange reading (ramayan I imagine) adjusted his specs to pose for my photo

Mandirar Prasado, said the man pulling a van laden with earthern pots of khichdi, steaming rice and their aroma wafting...

I would often stop, savour the scenn around me....and don't quite know why, feel very happy. There I was among a million - none of whom I knew, but I felt not lonely at all! As the day faded into dusk and then into night, the wide Grant Road became, if possible, even more magical.

The crowds swelled all along the road right upto the the Singhadooar where the crowd at any time is impossible. Impossibly crowded that is.

Puri Temple Front

People from all over India and abroad .... all milling around with vendors, a few locals, police men.

We chatted with our usual chai wallah who told us about another owner who was making Rs. 10,000 per day and had three houses and yet lived in a rented accomodation of 500/-!!

As the night set in marriage parties joined in. We counted 4 of them. The procession of two parties had a brief clash - both sets of brass bands playing loudly made unique cacophony and the women (yes all of them) carrying the obligatory ornate lamps alongside the groom's bedecked car, got their wires entangled (which are wired to a generator on usually the last van in the procession) - after which, one got the right of way while the other patiently waited. Soon two more queued up with entire regalia behind this one. Sundry people stopped to watch the marriage parties file past. As I stopped to take a photo (at the absurdity) a groom obligingly popped his head out of the car - the photo alas was too dark.

Here was Lord Jagannath's lila in full swing. Pilgrims from all parts of India and infact the world, vendors, policemen, bikers and cyclist, cows and bulls, marriage party and police station ... every one on their own trip but somehow all united in some cosmic dance to an unheard beat. All swirling around the looming Puri temple of Lord Jagganath infusing everything and everyone with this otherworldly bliss.

Lord of the World

2011-03-04T23:47:00.005+05:30

I was here last week. Puri. After so many visits it was perhaps only this time I felt the charm, the magic that lures so many people from all over the world.

Temple of Lord Jagannath. Puri.

Full post to follow. Shortly.

Brand Power

2011-02-22T20:47:00.002+05:30

Sandwiched between two remarkably ordinary one- room shops along the Hazra Road was a tiny saloon called CHERISH, the laminated signage somewhat faded by the relentless sun.

Even then, it was difficult to miss Ms. Letitia Casta smiling seductively at passersby.

What is that supposed to mean? That I will look like her if I go to CHERISH? Or She at some point in time visited the saloon? Neither, I guess!

Man & Machine

2011-02-20T19:00:00.002+05:30

Kolkata never fails on a Sunday. Today was no exception.

There I was doing the routine commute from the library to SK's home, when something whizzed past.

A large bird? A small plane flying low? Superman?

It ... was ... an ... old ... man (atleast 80) in white pajama and shirt, black cap and gogles (the sort old war movie pilots sport) on a motor bike (vintage variety), with his wife (also in summer white) in the side car and their elderly daughter (I told you the man was old) on the pillion.

And no, he wasn't putt-putting past. Shoulders up, body leaning forward, he was fairly zooming past! We could only stare agape, amazed!

Falling ill, in Chhindwara

2011-02-18T20:34:00.004+05:30

Imagine. You are visiting a series of small towns in interiors of districts in a state you are not familiar with. You are far away from home, away from your comfort zone, away from all that is familiar to you. You are staying in perhaps the best place in town, which happens to be a lodge. And then you fall ill. Not cold or cough or fever. Malaria. Panic?

With 3 days left in my rather longish and wearisome trip, I woke up in my room at the lodge (the town’s best – but that does not mean much) with a mild temperature which by evening had turned to full quakes, chills and aches. When Clad in salwar, kameez, jumper, socks, one bedsheet, 2 blankets, I asked V (my young colleague) for another blanket, she panicked and rushed to the lobby for a doctor. Within minutes a doctor arrived who took one look at me and pronounced malaria. He prescribed the medication and then departed, refusing any fees. He was, he said, a friend of the lodge owner. The medicines arrived within a few more minutes.

Over the next one and a half days, till my departure, there was a steady stream of visitors. The lodge owner, the waiters, the house keeping staff, the sweepers, the security guard and even the driver of the lodge's own jeep. None for a gawk. All genuninely concerned.

And Vikas's Chhindwara narangi's were languishing in front me. V asked some one if they could squeeze out the juice for the patient. Sorry, juicer is not working. However a staff did turn up saying, shall I buy one of those manual ones? Only 20/-.Yes, please do, I croaked from beneath the blankets.He returned with a glass full of sparkling orange juice, a sight for my parched lips and throat. And plastic juicer, now washed.

Right upto the time when my car arrived for my trip back to Nagpur (for my flight to Kolkata), everyone kept fussing and clucking over me. And Ingleji, owner of the car rental came up to meet me. Usually, he sends the car over with the driver. "Suna tha ki aap ki tabiyat thik nahin hai. Taab toh aap ko dekhna hi tha"! [heard you were unwell. (so) I had to meet you]

And another 24 hours, I was back in dear old Kolkata and Chez parents, safe and sound and none the worse for my ordeal. Any panicking that was, was entirely by friends and family.

Small towns, I am glad to say, have very big hearts! Thankyou Chhindwara.

And did I mention, V (also a small town girl) kept calling me up at the right times to tell me when to take my next medication.

Gifted

2011-02-16T20:14:00.003+05:30

I was in Betul and Chhindwara (both districts in MP) for a series of meeting with parents of deaf children residing in villages there.

At the end of day 1's session, Rambhaktji asked me hesitantly, "Will you like some?,

"What? I ask".

He put his hand inside the jhola he had on his shoulder and pulled out a handful of berries and tiny peas. "Hamare khet say". And then again and again, there I was, with my palms overflowing with ber and peas.

Next day, our last day in Betul, Harvinderji thrust a small plastic packet at me - gur, he said shyly.

And then there was Vikas in Chhindwara, sort of shuffling his foot behind my chair, waiting for the others to leave so that I was alone. "Narangi aapke liye, chhindwara say".

Three days, three gifts. A handful of berries, peas, oranges and a lump of jaggery? But what do you know, made me feel the most treasued person on earth, for some time!

The most expensive, unique, rare, difficult to find gifts are not necessarily expressive of the amount of love!

Colours of Assam

2011-02-15T19:39:00.005+05:30

Colours: Bezera, Assam

The All Bengali Crime Detectives

2011-02-14T18:08:00.003+05:30

Thankyou Suparna Chatterjee. No, not for writing a crime story - my almost favorite genre but for the setting. An entire middle class bengali para is part of the plot which is well, life and of the various events, pre-occupation of the cast, there happens to be a crime in there as well, which does get solved eventually. But the build up to the solution is great fun, not alone to find out if the butler did do it, but also for the hoped for conclusions to many other sub plots...all equally important.

For all bengalis and those who are familiar with bengaliana - this book is worth a read. (And for others too..)

I hope Ms. Chatterjee is busy working on the sequel. I did find out if the butler did it, but don't yet know the outcome of potla's prem, piya's patra (groom) and Sabuj Kalyan's puja plans. Hopefully all these will be solved in the next book.

Miles to go before we sleep...

2011-01-31T21:40:00.012+05:30

The International Kolkata Book Fair 2011 is here! I have already visited it thrice and feel like going over again, as are millions and millions. Did you notice the ramp at the Food Court? Did you notice the Food court? Did you notice how the road in most parts have been smoothened and flattened, easier to walk on? Well, its to a large part due to advocacy and lobbying by the West Bengal Disability Activist Forum (DAF), a state level forum of NGOs, Persons with Disabilities and individuals.

DAF has been lobbying with the Book Sellers and Publisher's Guild for quite sometime now on the issue of accessibility at the Book Fair. Apart from cordial meetings, nothing much came out of it, except in October. When the BS&PG "promised" to make the Fair accessible by issuing notices to stall owners to add ramps to each stalls and this was reported in the media too. So, DAF was understandably happy.

However, the single most important thing asked for and promised - the ramps to the stalls which were more in number compared to the Halls (which did have ramps) were missing.

DAF organised a meeting at the ampitheatre in the Milon Mela grounds and then all the participants, Children and Persons with Disabilities, parents, NGO staff walked through the fair and to the Publishers Guild were they demanded an explanation.

I guess the BS&PG were caught napping since surrounded by some 100 irate people and the media (who had sniffed a possible "breaking news"), they could only come up with silliest of statements and excuses: Not our responsibility / Why do they need to come to the book fair? / Why do they need to go to all the stalls (go only to those with ramps) / It is not possible etc / This is just a publicity gimmick etc.

The rally making its way to the Guild House

Surrounding the Guild house

Very few passers by (and there were many) stopped to find out what was happening. Most were curious or angry at their path blocked or aired summary statements - Jekhanei mohila sekhanei jhamle (there will be trouble when women are around) / They are angry since they haven't been given stalls etc.

This is not an issue in any developed nation since ramps have been made compulsory a very long time ago. Handrails, patterned floor tiles (for the visually impaired), ramps, wide doorways to accomodate wheel chairs, flat steps (for those using callipers and crutch) are inbuilt in to the system and never have to be mentioned.

Remember, India did sign the UNCRPD and with a flourish ... one of the first countries to do so. And yet, "eder ekhane ashar ki dorkar?" is the reality. All DAF asked for was a simple wooden ramp instead of steps at the entrance of each stall. Like Oliver, they dared to ask for more?!

But we live in hope. Six ramps (one at the food court, and 5 at the entrance of the 5 halls) is a begining. Our small rally might have started something good. But we have miles to go before we sleep ... to remind all of us ... that we (as a nation) have promises to keep.

Not going Swimmingly well....

2011-01-26T22:03:00.003+05:30

Jharkhand is hosting the 34th National Games which begins in less than one month. So, a swimming camp has been organised for the 40 member contingent in Ranchi. Actually inside an appartment in Ranchi. Truly, if the report in the Statesman, 26th January 2011, is to be believed.

Apparently, they lie down on the floor and thrash their arms and legs about. Simulating swimming. The report also adds that nearly half of this contingent have never seen a pool having practiced in ponds and lakes.

I had to reread the item to make sure it was not a joke. Ofcourse, I almost missed this article tucked on Page 15, amid various articles on cricket.

So what? Nothing I guess. India's pride has already been salvaged, hasn't it? The rooms and facilities at GWG 2010 were found to be acceptable to all foreign visitors weren't they? GW games were for International teams, afterall, so the swimming pools for training would have been pools with water.

The Jharkhand swimming team, is like Oliver, asking for more. How dare they?

[Ps - I dont think they asked for a pool. The report stated that they felt demoralized. What an understatement that].

Why is Dr. Binayak Sen being Jailed?

2011-01-09T10:23:00.004+05:30

Here is Why Dr. Binayak Sen is being Jailed?

Please watch this 11 minutes video, help spread the message. There are a lot of events, meets happening details available at Free Binayak Sen Campaign - join wherever you can or even if you can't, help spread the word. If nothing else, the very very least that we all can do is keep updated about the Free Binayak Sen Campaign instead of ocassionally hearing about him on the TV channels in between the film awards, reality shows and life styles of the rich and famous.

Sublimely Sunday

2010-12-19T23:01:00.002+05:30

So, how was your sunday? Mine was Sublime. First of all, if it happens to be Sunday, then it must be in Kolkata. No matter what time of the year, sundays here are wonderful.Temperature today varied between 12 - 24 degrees. Just perfect. Imagine, room temperature outdoors. Blissful. And I did spend a goodish part of it outdoors because the indoors of our 5th floor north-west facing flat was freezing!

A couple of hours of catching up with my friends (SK, M) their kids and other animals. That would mean, 2 excited kids, 3 cousins (the oldest 7 years of age), 12 ducks (from the quite large geese to baby ducklings), turkey chicks, guniea fowl, 3 roosters, maybe some 15 hens of all shapes and size and 5 rabbits. While it was fun to soak up the wholesome, natural and earthiness of it all, I was mightily thankful that this menagerie was not in my home (Sorry SK).

The latest feluda flick (Gorosthane Sabhdan) is still running to packed houses as I found out when I went to Priya this morning for tickets for the evening show. This afternoon Zee Bangla telecast Shonar Kella. Thankyou, thankyou. Can't thank you enough. Seeing a beloved movie together with parents made it a bit more speical - shared activities are very rare as we grow up and grow old (alas)!

And to end the day, a leisurely evening stroll around Maddox Square park with its almost walkable walkways (the park is undergoing some sort of facelift). The smoke from some local chulhas, couples huddled in nooks and crannies, the glad eyed grandfather group - looking dapper dans all in smart sweaters and sneakers, all added to the atmosphere of a romatic winter night (although it was only comfily nippy)!

And then home for another cup of tea. Quite refreshed and ready for another week. Ah! Sublime that.

Goddess of Domestic things

2010-11-15T18:13:00.003+05:30

"Necessary tips for housewives"

On my way on a super duper fast "laaxary" enroute to a meeting in Amtala, a vendor boarded and started waxing eloquent on this miracle of a book. Atfirst I ignored him as just one more of those....but then I took one look above and had to buy it, just for the cover. Saksath Maa Durga!

Lo behold

2010-11-08T14:40:00.008+05:30

Photo courtesy Nadeem Ahmed

Such a beautiful fruit. And not just visually. And the single tree outside our office window reminds us of those couple of months when the tree will be full of white jamrul, which Hemantada our office peon will pluck and distribute. I don’t think I exaggerate when I say I don’t think I have ever tasted such wonderfully sweet jamruls (aka Jamun). Even after the brief fruit season is over, the tree looms reminding us about the next season and harvest.

Hemanta apart from his sundry other activities, is also in charge of pruning the trees. But he forgets to, sometimes. The Jamrul tree has grown and grown till the branches reached the window just behind my work place.

So far so good. Till, an enormous bunch of caterpillars made the tree their home and crawled up onto the ledge and inside our room. Ugh. The window is now firmly shut. Hemantada has firmly hacked the tree down to its size, but we are still not taking any chances.

A senior consultant was sitting with me when I spied 10-12 of them crawling all around my desk and understandably let out a shriek. He very gallantly removed the bunch, but not before giving me an earful on right to life.

Right to life is alright. But somehow in this context, I am certain, might is definitely right.

Bankable!

2010-11-01T20:37:00.000+05:30

I went to my bank this morning to drop a cheque and update my pass book. Yes, there are still a few banks with the old style passbooks. Ofcourse they have moved with the times and pass books are no longer manually updated. Instead the updates are printed ones. I went dot at 10am to finish these chores in minimum time and rush to work. There was only one solitary chap at teller desk. So when I showed him the pass book, he indicated an empty desk which could mean - I don't do the updating / the person who sits at the currently empty desk will update the book / or (hopefully, I thought) he will be here soon and update your pass book.

So, if there is no one to update my pass book, is there? Imagine that. If this chap doesnot turn up, I have to come another day. Call yourself a bank etc. No, I didn't actually say any of these. These thoughts simply flashed through my mind. Thank god I didn't. The updater arrived and did the updating!

Funny. There was once a time, not too long ago, when like any other nationalised bank, the service here was HORRIBLE. Withdrawing money was a herculean task. No wonder, many of the clients tended to rely on personal relations. This involved personally greeting a teller and making silly small talk in the hope that the tellers would stop talking about a recent picnic or stop carping mother-in-law woes or swapping recipes while a serpentine queue fumed silently.

Slowly but surely, their service improved. Any bank transaction is now done quickly, efficiently in a minimum amount of time. So what if core banking has come a little late here. So what if the bank staff still dress in their bengali best (creasy kurtas, choppols & come winter - the multicoloured hand knitted sweaters). So what if the staff are not the super smart staff like elsewhere full of good mornings and how may I help you's?! So what if they don't have an ATM? This one is actually a boon. It has resulted in remarkable savings for me. Busy as I am with a 6 day week, dont get much time to withdraw money which I would have surely and needlessly spent on things I don't need at all.

Earlier, when they only pretended to provide service, we were so polite and ingratiating. Now, in a complete 180 degree turn, the stiff necked bannerjee da's and dhoti clad ghosh babu's patience has increased in direct proportion to their efficiency!

An evening of Pandavani

2010-10-31T18:52:00.000+05:30

We was thrilled to get tickets for Pandavani performance and by no less an artiste than Teejan Bai. This was a part of the Lokaranga (a folk theatre festival) organised by Kasba Argha.

Somehow, all 6 of us managed to beat the crazy traffic and reach Madhusudhan Mancha on time. The enormous hall was fully packed with quite a few known faces - actors - film and theatre.

First, Sima Ghosh, disciple of Teejan Bai presented the Abhimanyu Chakravyuhu episode. The acoustics were not too great and the music and chorus drowned out Sima in parts. However, it was not difficult to follow her at all and everyone was rapt.

The Kurukshetra battle field came alive in front of my eyes and a young Abhimanyu, wounded, all weapons destroyed, weilding a chariot wheel as the last resort, fatally trapped inside the Chakravyuha (like I and a million others read in Amar Chitra Kathas of our childhood). When Sima Ghosh heralded his death with a long drawn out Abhimanyu, I was jolted back from Kurukshetra to find Sima on the stage and her percussionists and accompanists seated on a dias.

There was a brief interval, during which we were requested not to step outside because there were others who had not got tickets outside who were a bit upset.

Teejan Bai presented Karan - Arjun Samvad and right from her entry to the tragic end of Karnadani, she was arresting. Dressed in a red sari, black choli, silver amulets, armbands, anklets, her jet black hair in a long plait belied her age (she claimed she was aged). But given her tumultous life, 50 plus would be like a very long life time. As she unravelled the tragic tale of Karna-dani fighting his last battle against Arjun and his charioteer Sri Krishna, we held our collective breath. As she finished, the applause was not as thunderous as should have been given the packed audience. But that I realised was more because we were stunned.

The organisers asked the 'vishist atithi' Aparna Sen (who had come to see the performance) to come up on stage and present a bouquet to Teejan Bai. Some one from the audience called out that she has gone. 'Chole geche'. The organiser then requested Purna Das Baul to do the honours. Which he did. This was the only discordant note in the entire evening. No disrespect meant to Ms. Sen, but one legendary folk singer to another, Purna Das Baul should have been the first and obvious choice.

Teejan Bai waited patiently, through it all. But then poray bhebay dekhlam all this disorganised ness is the hallmark of all things Indian and not take into account. The audience appreciated the performance who in turn appreciated the audience's enjoyment, and all other irritants, were swept away.

Through a glass, darkly!

2010-10-28T18:51:00.002+05:30

Just before the Pujas, there was a sudden spurt of dark glasses (glares), of late. Definitely not the latest Durga Puja fashion. Wasn’t to keep the merciless sun out of our eyes either. Infact the weather, to our collective suprise, was rather nice and continued to be so throughout the Pujas.

Oh that annual event: conjunctivities or Joy Bangla as it is known here. It comes around every year just like chicken pox, heat waves, durga pujas etc without fail.

The dark glasses were every where, just every where hiding red, watery eyes. And since the hands are the most common medium for infection one kept wondering if one had accidentally touched something possibly infected and then rubbed one's eyes. All one had to do is wash one's hands frequently, but just about around this time, ones eye-hand coordination goes for a toss.

And not to mention the imaginary itching, swelling, watering of the eyes. These are enough to make you feel rather ill. Worse is waking up one morning and finding out that these symptoms were not imaginary afterall!

It did the rounds at my work place. One by one, quite a few of my colleagues got conjunctivities. All kept wondering who would be next. However, I managed to get through the puja hols unscathed.

On monday, the day after Bijoya Dashami, we returned to our office to find big boss in large butterfly glares. Oh ho! Boss and I were taking a train to Bhubaneswar the next day for a planning meet. All at work were convinced (and quite gleefully) that it was my turn.

She asked me quite a few times if we should cancel this meet. No way. As it is, the meeting should have happened 20 days earlier. Shortly after, Ashok - he drives the NGO jeep - too was prancing around in fake but really hip glares. I tried to put up a brave front and tried to make light of it - " Both Gabbar and Sambha's got joy bangla", all the while wondering "aab tera kya hoga kaalia?"

Fortune however favours the bold. Our meeting went well. We got a comprehensive plan chalked out for the next couple of months; we ate some good kebabs at Khaja Chowk and were back in office, sans joy bangla! Bach gaya ... atleast for this year!

The many faces of Ma Durga

2010-10-17T07:37:00.006+05:30

Please click on the photos for an enlarged view. All photos courtesy Jayantanuj Ghosh.

A sporting chance

2010-10-16T19:35:00.003+05:30

All the brouhaha about the CGW Delhi 2010. The paw prints on the bed, the leaky roofs, the Rs. 6000 toilet rolls. Would it ever get finished on time? Will it meet "international" standards? Will the international athletes approve? Will we as a nation, be able to rise to the ocassion?

Well the answers to all of the above was a resounding yes.

However, it struck me as terribly terribly sad. I was not angry or upset at the rest of the world questioning India's ability to organise such an event. Every question just made me sadder.

Look at all our Indian athletes and sportspersons. Does anyone in India ever think of them? Has the government shown an iota of concern for them? Why should Indian athletes have to wait for CWG for world class stadias and facilities?

We should have been disqualified at the very outset. We are one of the most unsporting nations in the world. Except cricket. No, I am not talking about the sportsmen or athletes. Look at the pitiable state of affairs in regional or even national sports. Look at the outlays, the facilities, the total apathy. Ours sportspersons are handicapped even before they can begin.

And despite it all, they performed and how; making us proud all the while when we were humiliating them by raising a hue and cry for facilities for international athletes. I apologise to all of you - you are the real sports, all of you.

Seeing the medal haul, there I was thinking that perhaps things will look up for the non cricket sports and sports persons in India.

However, just days after the closing ceremony, we find a buzz about the boxing arena in the Talkatora stadium being removed to make way for the AICC meet. The boxers for the Asian Games can well box else where. Afterall, they are not really used to such "international" facilities are they? And these were not really for them, were they?

Joyous Bangla

2010-10-13T07:14:00.007+05:30

The golden sunlight has been missing this pujas. First there was unbearable heat and humidity and then massive depression over bay of bengal and the rains. The rains have stopped but the weather is wonderful. There is a very pleasing breeze what is so aptly called "Phur-phure" in Bengali.

And ofcourse, the atmosphere.
Like any other morning, I am sitting at my PC at 7am in the morning, a pleasant morning, with the news on the TV, birds chirping outside and the curtains swaying in the phur-phure breeze.

It does not matter a bit that I have to go to work today. It does not matter that I haven't seen any pandals yet. It does not matter that I will (like millions other) wade, jostle, elbow, fight and possibly stomp and gnash my way through the mother of all jams. All bengalis have been infected (no - not speaking about conjunctivities known as "Joy Bangla" which is sweeping Bangla and infact neighbouring Assam as well) by that inexplicable feeling of joy, happiness, elation, expectation and general bon homie. Joyous Bangla!

Happy Sashti to all of you!

PS- All the pix were taken early am (in final stages of preparation)

All things bright and beautiful

2010-09-21T20:32:00.003+05:30

This little poppet accompanied her mother to a workshop

for parents of the deaf in Betul district, Madhya Pradesh.

Women at work

2010-08-20T18:06:00.004+05:30

"Look -- a lady traffic police", I said, quite amazed.

"Bhubaneswar is full of women traffic police", said my young colleague J (leaving "what - you have never seen one in big bad kolkata", unsaid).

An inequitable world

2010-08-20T18:03:00.005+05:30

Back this morning from bhubaneswar where we visited several schools for the deaf.

The above photo is a classroom for very young deaf children. It also doubles as their dormitory. Those boxes (of those who can afford) and the bundles (of those who can't) contain each students belongings.

If you look very carefully, there are actually two classes in full swing here. Students seat facing opposite ends. The fact that all of them are deaf, helps. There is not much noise. Infact very little.

Again, another classroom cum dormitory.

All of the photos are of two deaf schools in Bhubaneswar. The 2nd and 3rd photo is one of the oldest schools in Orissa and perhaps in the country. 187 students cramped in to tiny classroom cum dorms. Teachers and staff struggling against all odds. Little or no government aid and delayed if at all. Hapless parents relieved to dump their deaf children in the school and come only reluctantly twice a year before the school holidays to take the children home.

These are the lucky few. Others have to make do with local schools where according to Sarva Siksha Abhiyan, all children (including disabled) are to receive free education. No matter that there are no trained teachers (or atlteast properly trained and coming regularly) at these schools. Did I say these children were lucky. Yes, well only upto Class X or XII. After that what? No jobs. Outdated, outmoded training programmes and no placement anywhere private or government (despite 3% reservation in government jobs).

And Bhubaneswar is only an example. It is more or less similar a scenario everywhere. India is shining, apparently. I'd like to know where?

To live another day

2010-07-12T19:40:00.004+05:30

I spend so much time on mini buses commuting to and fro from work that I have time to observe the close working relationship among bus drivers, conductors and helper. They have amazing coordination as they navigate through crowded Kolkata roads. And slowly over the days and months, I have learnt that there lies an extremely finetuned method to their reckless madness. Their intricate system of shouts, thumping and tapping the side of the bus signal a variety of directions - left, right, slow, stop, half stop (which means slow down for an unscheduled stop for a favoured commuter), speed up etc.

Often close to the terminus, the driver and conductor exchange seats. By this time, the bus is almost empty and so are the roads. The bus driver leaves and the conductor drives the last few stops upto the terminus (incidentally where I too get off). He shouts instructions to the conductor, "foot on break, steady, etc". I actually know one such conductor who has now graduated to a driver! He smiled at me (now a familiar face on that route) with so much pride, seated behind the wheels instead of collecting fares. I live and learn something new everyday!!

This morning on my way to work, the switch happened a bit earlier, around the Behala Blind School with peak office time rush on the road. The driver didnot leave the bus. He came and sat with the three other passengers. The conductor took up position on the foot board while the helper took the wheels. And then came possibly the scariest twenty minutes of my life.

The helper drove like a man possessed. As if he was on a mission impossible to avert world destruction. The driver shouted instructions while the conductor beat a manic tattoo of thumps and taps guiding the helper, in between shouting at the top of his lungs - Ay aauto, laxary (private long distance buses with odd names like Debkanya) at passing vehicles, suicidal pedestrians, dogs, thelas and trams. Our pathetic screams went unheard partly due to the general ruckus (or death rattle) of the tin bus at hypersonic speed, mostly because the driver and the conductor were totally focussed on the dodge-em-car training at 200km hour in peak traffic - essential requirement of a mini bus driver.

I seriously contemplated getting off (if my weakened knees would allow) and taking an auto. On second thoughts, after my auto tumble, walking would be better. But what if another driver in training crept up behind me. Tram? No way. At places, the mad man at the wheels drove up the tram track and down while the bus lurched ominously on three wheels....

"Ladeeeeeeeeeeees", yelled the conductor which jolted me out of my daytime nightmare and I lurched to the door and ran off at olympic speed.

Did I say I live and learn? If. We. Live. that is.

PS - Now the name debkanya (daughter of god ... for those who don't know bengali), doesn't sound all that odd.

Beauty lies in the eyes of the beholder?

2010-07-12T18:42:00.001+05:30

Compared to most metros, Kolkata scores badly. Forget cities abroad, it is an eyseore when compared to other towns in India. Hoping for an improvement might be a waste of time. But there is hope even in all this ugliness. Infact, we must be one of the most hopeful people around!

People who come from beautiful cities say like Paris, might be upset at the slightest ugliness and which might completely spoil their day! The reverse happens here. We become desperate seekers of beauty and find it in places which won't be normally visible. A rusty broken wrought iron railing in a dilapidated building from the turn of the century, the pale purple of maybe two krishnachura blossoms peeping shly among ugly hoardings, half a road with perfect stretch of pavement, blue sky among three tall palms in front of the mint (which is all one can see in between busy large public buses), that twisty stretch on Bardhaman road, those dusty antiques furnitures piled on the sidewalk obscuring the incredibly squalid stretch on either side, one yellow blossom on a tree, half a window with green venetian slats ( khor-khori), the potholed pavement now white with siuli blossoms which must have fallen overnight.

All the mansards roofs cannot make us as happy as the mearest glimpse of any of these which is quite enough to gladden our hearts!

The blessed coolness

2010-05-14T22:54:00.004+05:30

Somehow we make it to the end of this indescribably muggy miserable day, a day so bad that our new Brit volunteer was comforted by the fact that we too were suffering as much as he was! A power cut thrown in, the constant cacaphony of a cement mixer at a construction site not 20 feet from our office and ofcourse the commute back home through the Guinness Book worthy Tollugunje to Tala Park snarl thanks to Mamata Bannerjee at Hazra. God...HOW incredibly resilient we (Kolkatans) are.

And as we listlessly settle down to an equally tiresome night, there is lightening and thunder and rain and a strong breeze which actually pushes me as I stand arms stretched out like some mad bengali boudi -- in a nightie -- doing a Jesus of Brasilia imitation...savouring the blessed coolness.

Cold Comfort

2010-04-30T18:05:00.002+05:30

When it is 36 degrees but feels like 47 degrees.

Season for Hope

2010-04-07T20:01:00.009+05:30

Its that time of the year. Again. Hot-sticky-unbearable. Not to mention that this "time" is actually the better part of the year.

And this is the time when hope which is supposed to spring eternally in the human breast, fairly bounces in the Bengali breast. We hope that the sticky day will end in a cool breezy evenings. that there will be a magnificent Kaal boishakis to soothe our frayed nerves. And maybe even win in IPL3 (no, no not the IPL3 itself...but perhaps tonight's match against Delhi Daredevils?)!

It also means a lot of other things which we need not be hopeful about like tauk daal, teto daal, soothing dalnas and light curries, of aam pora sarbat, yogurt and the like. It is also the time for sweet mango chutney made from unripe mangoes! Aah!

And imagine my delight at the smallish mango tree in our office compound sprouting little green mangoes! My delight was shortlived...as a colleague pointed out a neat not so little wasp's nest among the branches. Hmm. But I am hoping to get a few without disturbing the wasps.

You can't see the wasp's nest...but it is there...lurking among the mangoes.

In the meanwhile, here are my recipes for Aam Pana and Lemon dal and Mango relish!

PS - Keeping my fingers crossed - mostly for KKR's win tonight and tomorrow I will concentrate on the wasp's going away.

Wedding season

2010-03-10T23:13:00.003+05:30

N and I left nearly at 9 (that is pm) from work and took a cab for the long ride home. And ofcourse our conversation was on trying to find that elusive work life balance. Slowing down at Kalighat (it is on the road to my home and I haven't suddenly turned into a fervent devotee), we saw something amazing. Amazingly cute. A woman shepherding a young groom and bride. Complete in dhoti-topor and biyer lal benarasi and alpana and red cheli and biyer malar across the road as our cab waited at the signal. Kalighat wedding. Hmm. Made our long hours almost worth it.

Colour, Bhopal

2010-03-07T08:59:00.001+05:30

In Flight demo

2010-03-04T09:14:00.002+05:30

Another trip to Bhopal. Which means flying to Nagpur from Kolkata, a cab to Nagpur station, a train to Bhopal and an auto to my hotel in Bhopal. I can now do it blindfolded.

And I thought I had learnt all the tricks and shortcuts and had seen it all. Not quite, as I found out.

I got a seat right in front of the plane on the Kolkata Nagpur flight. As I took my seat, I found the plane abuzz with mosquitoes. More were entering through the open door as other passengers were still boarding. A lady swatted angrily and complained to the airhostess about them. “It happens only in Kolkata,” said the air hostess, catching my eyes and smiling sympathetically. I looked stonily ahead my hackles raised (cant help this bongness). But only momentarily. Indeed there was a thick cloud of mosquitoes. Maybe not a cloud, but definitely a swarm which, heh heh avoided me sensing my solidarity and attacked others.

As the flight took off, and the plane went upwards (to stratospheric heights), the mosquitoes settled and then vanished. But not before a final show. I have never paid much attention to the security drill / demo by the cabin crew (atleast not as much as men do…but that I think has more to do with air hostesses in short skirts) but this time, I did. And what a demo it was. The airhostess slapped (her arms), swatted (her face and neck), stamped her feet all the while demonstrating the usual seat belts, oxygen masks, exits demo!! It was funny. But full points to the lovely lady for not missing a beat even with all the stamping, stomping, slapping and swatting!

Holi, Happily!

2010-03-02T21:27:00.003+05:30

Bengal celebrated holi on Sunday, a day before rest of India. Holi for me, meant colours - creeping up on friends and family, pichkiri, abir & other hard to remove colours, resorting to buckets of water when stocks ran out, post holi bath with the painful scrubbing off, the most resistant bits - a triumphant souvenir to be proudly shown off the day after!

Once a manic fan of "dol khela"...this year, I welcomed holi as a day spent at home. (In February, I have spent a total of 24 days touring and was not only weary, but dis-oriented as well).

The lazing in bed as the cool morning breeze wafted in...
The strangely empty noiseless kolkata roads...
The lazy cawing of the crow...
The obligatory mangher jhol and bhat for lunch ...
and in the afternoon air redolent with the almost sweet, heavy lazy fragrance of the mango blossoms ... the best of all - a magnificent post mangsher jhol siesta!

Happy Holi, belatedly!

At long last - Sanchi photos

2010-02-27T15:58:00.004+05:30

My SANCHI photos, 2 months after I visited Sanchi and blogged about. What is afterall 2 months? Meaningless. Afterall, Sanchi has been there for a couple of millenia and espcially now after Bhimbetka!

So, look at the photos, if you will and re-read the post, if you would.

Time Travel - BP to AD: Bhimbetka

2010-02-25T19:58:00.010+05:30

The maddening tour continues. Back from Bhopal last night and going to Bhubaneswar tonight. Which means this month, I spend 4 entire days at home. Imagine! On our first day in Bhopal, a sunday, we were able to wrap up things early and visit Bhimbetka.

One hour drive from Bhopal, a right turn and then a narrow, surprisingly well maintained road snaked its way up leaving everyone and everything behind and suddenly...we zoomed back to...well pre-history.

Was it the gigantic odd shaped prehistoric crags (dated BP - "before present"), the strange red, white and blue striations on the rock surface - believed to be under water before the north and south gondowana land collided to give rise to the world structure as we know nos throwing up many mountains ranges, including these rocky crags part of the Vindhyas.

And the cave paintings. Our guide dated these to be from 12,000 years ago - those in white; the ones in red being more recent merely 2000-3000 years ago and ofcourse somewhere in between the legend of the lot later Pandavas, bhim in particular - bhim baithika.

As the guide led us from one rock shelter to another pointing out the paintings - white, red, pale yellow and green....we were lost, transported far far away. Suddenly, the tour had ended and we were right in the front whence we had begun.

And only half an hour had passed and yet we had travelled 12,000 years. And back.

There is so much on Bhimbetka on the net. Archaeological Survey of India & Unesco World heritage site among others. But these pictures don't half capture the magic.

"See madam, the colours are all original, surviving all these years. And yet the C/5 marking that the ASI had inscribed to denote the rock shelter no. 5 has to be renewed ever so often".

Civilisation then, need not mean progress?

PS - Again, a digicam with a chip capable of storing only 3-4 snaps (argh! Dont ask ... long boring story).

The bright idea

2010-02-14T09:38:00.003+05:30

On our arrival at Nagpur airport, we took a cab to the staion for our train to Bhopal. Trains have been running late due to fog, our MP NGO partners had informed us. And so they would be taking a bus instead.

We had more than an hour to spare before the train arrived. I looked up the reservation charts to find I was still WL1 which in effect meant, I had to no ticket and no right to board the train. My boss however had a confirmed berth. And she said we'd share. Half a berth is better than no berth for an overnight journey. Yes. Only we were travelling by 3rd A/C and my boss had a confirmed upper birth. That close to the ceiling and both of us sharing? We'll ask some one on a lower berth to change places, she said.

The train arrived only an hour and half late. I boarded the train on a general ticket. Our coupe was all men and one mother with an infant. We asked if one good soul would change place with us. No one refused outright. Its just that they didnot look at us or reply distinctly. Mumbled and looked away. The TT said I could pay the difference and share the upper berth but he couldnt give me another berth simply because there was not a single empty one on the entire train. Ogotta, upper berth.

I stood around glaring at everyone, gnashing my teeth while my super efficient, super energetic boss swung into action. She went up first and spread the beddings. Next she asked me to hand her the laptop, LCD, our biggish handbags, assorted shawls and sweaters etc and as I watched astonished, she made space and sort of curved into a comma and asked to climb up. Which I did. The alternative was to stand in the dark coach for 8 hours.

We were just striking enormously acrobatic poses on the narrow berth one feet from the ceiling when the chappie on the lower berth (the other LB was occupied by the mother and baby) got up and said, "Aap kaisey aisey jayenge?" At this the others too stirred. "Aap please niche aa jaiye aur main UB le loonga".

The others arose and helped us bring down all our stuff one by one. Their collective guilt now had a reprieve thanks to this guy. We repeated the entire process on the LB and it did take us some amount of arranging and re-arranging before we could settle down and eventually fall asleep.

We reached Bhopal relatively refreshed thanks to the chap and I know I should have been more grateful. He was fast asleep as we left and I hadn't thanked him when I had a chance to. Instead I had said, "if only you had the bright idea of changing places 15 minutes earlier"...

Puri Fog

2010-02-07T20:21:00.005+05:30

Hasn't got the same zing as London Fog. But it was as deadly (I am sure).

I was looking forward to Puri and the warm climes . And it was. Not hot but comfortably warm. Day 1 Puri, Day 2 Berhampore boarding train to Kolkata on the same day. Work at Puri went well. Left sharp at 5.30 for Berhampore. And straight into a thick fog. The four hour drive between Puri and Ganjam took 6. Often the white stripe of the divider was the only clue forward. Fog in Puri? (Maybe).

Given my punishing schedule, I was looking forward to a delayed arrival in Kolkata due to fog. I sleep rather well in trains. Rang ma to tell her so and expect me around 7 am-ish. Boarded the Chennai Howrah Mail and post dinner was fast asleep. And within minutes or so it seems, there was the chap in charge of beddings waking us up, shouting Howrah, Howrah at the top of his voice. I looked around. No one budged. Some simply turned sideways and snuggled deeper into the berth!

What a bore. We arrive bang on time - at 4am. No fog? Haven't the fogiest idea.

Saraswati Puja post - belatedly

2010-02-07T00:25:00.004+05:30

Saraswati Puja. And hurrah - I actually got a day off. No field visits, no on-going training session. That meant adda at a friend's. It was a particularly cold day and yet the roads were lined with jubak and jubotis resplendent (shiveringly so) in sarees and kurtas. Braving the cold. Oh yes. Saraswati puja is valentines day for the bengali school and college going youth, much before valentines day itself became fashionable. Same in Assam, my assamese colleague confirmed!

My schooling was not in Bengal and so we (children of expats) didn't know about that. Ofcourse some of the the tradition followed us to expat lands. Dont eat kool before saraswati puja. Which struck me as odd. What is "before saraswati puja?". And keeping your school books, pen, pencil at the altar and getting them blessed! Ofcourse we never had saraswati puja at home. But we did go over to other friend's home - once or maybe twice. And briefly in Q8 where a few families had a puja to which they didnt invite us - as if not wanting to share out the goddess' blessings. They chose to inform us after the puja was over. Hmmm...maybe that could be the reason for my less than brilliant academic career?!

I reached my KD's place to find a puja in full swing in his building complex. So it was good adda and great bhog from the puja downstairs - khichudi, labra, tomato chutney, aloo bhaja, payesh and rassogolla. And the garnish? 6 pieces (2 apeice) of deep fried yummy ilish mach from KD's fridge!

K the other friend and I dug in. KD the host however took only one piece and insisted I take another. At first I thought he was being host-ly and resisted (ever so briefly). But greed won and I had a third piece. Ah! Soon, we crept away bellies full of khichudi and ilish mach...to our respective homes and crawled under our respective leps. I felt slightly guilty (about the non veg gluttony). But hey, no more academics for me to worry about. So illish was not only OK. It was great.

Later on KD's wife told me that he felt guilty as he suddenly remembered his daughter's imminent exams and stopped at one! Lucky me, then?

PS - Immediately, within a day or two, I had an auto accident. And then I went to Assam and returned with a severe respiratory tract infection which I took to be the Duck's revenge. Was it?? I wonder.

The Duck's revenge

2010-02-01T20:32:00.001+05:30

On our way back from a field trip to Morigaon district, we made a small stop at the Morigaon haat where my colleague bought a "Pati haan" or Haans as in Bengali, duck in English. It was just before Bihu and he thought he'd get a good price here compared to Guwahati. He was back in 10 minutes, a duck in a white bag which he tied securely and put on the floor next to the driver.

The bag moved as the duck squirmed inside, giving me anxious moments. What if it got out of the bag, flapping its wings and obscuring the driver's vision and pecking furiously and all of us - car and duck in the ditch?

That did not happen. The duck soon settled down, resigned to its fate and was quite silent through our long drive back to guwahati, tea break at chandrapur, visit to Guwahati university and coffee break. When my colleague got dropped off at his home, with the duck, I almost felt a kinship with it, feeling guilty about my erst-while drooling over visions of roast duck.

Two days later, my last day in Guwahati, we went to Bezera in Kamrup district for a field trip. This took better part of the day. We stopped at "Kake da Dhaba" run by locals but the Kaka at the till for a very late lunch! My colleague took out a tiffin box carrier the duck curry he had made. We ate heartily. Only the driver was reluctant. Why, I asked? Because old ailments resurface if you take duck meat.

Really?? Old wives tales, I thought, mentally. I paid scant attention, busy as I was stuffing myself and wondering if I'd make the flight (all kinshop forgotten).

Back in Kolkata, I was feverish. Next day I could not goto office. I suffered from the most agonizing pain in my jaws thanks to which I was on a liquid diet for nearly a week. Severe Upper respiratory tract infection. I thought I had won the last bout of respiratory infections, in November. The Duck's revenge was complete.

There I was jaws aching, nose, throat sore, constant coughing and head spinning from the barrage of useless information on what I should have done and worn back in Assam so that I would have been right as rain, now and not severely ill.

I was too weak to protest - It was not the incorrect clothing or the dust or even the cold. It was the Duck.

Tram that auto!

2010-01-27T22:25:00.001+05:30

We were getting tired of waiting for the elusive W-3. Shall we take the tram? Yes. Why not?

So there I was on a tram after, 20 years! My last tram ride was in '89, that is 1989. But for the fact that this is 2010, I would indeed have thought I was back in 1989. The tram, exterior and interior were unchanged. That included the conductor. The only difference was the price. The fare to Behala was Rs. 4. Expensive compared to 50 paise for first class and 40p for the second, I told N, sounding like you know like one's parents / grandparent or atleast one person per family who ate a rossogolla for one anna / walked several kilometers to school / and had a grand parent who could eat an entire goat. Hmpf.

The ride was tranquil. No hurry, no rush. The tram stopped for ages while people got off or on after chatting with the conductors about the wisdom of doing so at each stop! (Unlike buses which don't stop...slow down fractionally and that too in the middle of the road). No one complained at the slow gait (unlike the smart alecs in slow moving buses). Why didnt we take the tram earlier? It might be stately and slow, but it never gets stuck in the endless jams? We should. We will, we decide.

And if it hadn't happened for that insane auto driver who, speeding on a near empty wintry night, got a wheel onto the tram track and the auto simply toppled over. Did I mention, I was in it, concentraing on wrapping my shawl around me tightly as the chilly wind sliced through me (yes, yes I am talking about Kolkata and not Siberia - its cold in a window / door less auto) when I realised that this auto is toppling over. It might sound mundane written so. It was horrific then. However, the horror was shortlived. I emerged with only a few minor scratches and a good deal of jarring. Within minutes, people came up, straightened the auto, pulled us out, helped us across the road and on to a seat at a roadside stall. Some one even thrust a tea cup in my hand (and no, this person didnt ask me for any money), enquired if I was hurt. And did I mention, that my things were all over the road. Some one collected everything and handed them over to me.

So, I don't take the autos anymore. I have rediscovered trams. And ofcourse, I rediscovered my love for my fellow Kolkatans.

One vote equals one child's education

2010-01-18T21:54:00.003+05:30

Help GiveIndia win US$ 1 million in Facebook’s Chase Community Giving event. Vote Today!

The winner will be the NGO that gets the highest number of votes from Facebook users. The prize of $1 million will help put or keep 40,000 children across India in school for one year.

Voting is open only from Friday, January 15 – Friday, January 22, 2010.

Voting link and details here

Email giveindiachase@gmail.com for queries if any.

My Last Post of this decade

2009-12-31T21:00:00.002+05:30

Nothing much to say except this mad urge to write in a last post of 2009. From tomorrow, a new year, a new decade.

Yes. A new decade indeed begins tomorrow since the decades are labelled 60's, 70's etc. Um...so what do we call the 2010-19? The 10's? Doesn't sound right. Although Discoblog's logic as to why a decade ends tonight and a new one starts tomorrow does.

Goodbye 2009. Welcome 2010.

Happy New Year!

Time unravels all - Sanchi, Vidisha & Udaigiri

2009-12-28T20:33:00.005+05:30

I had half a day off in Bhopal and debated - Sanchi or Bhimbetka? Sanchi won. Bhimbetka is for another trip, MP being a project state, I have to visit Bhopal frequently. And so Surendra, the driver from MP tourism and I went to Sanchi-Vidisha-Udaigiri.

First stop Sanchi. Chilly but not freezing. Green and beautiful. I made it. Afterall! The great Stupa, the four gateways. Ashoka the Great. 3rd century BC. Devi, Anuradha, Mahendra; Sungas; Here was an Ashoka Pillar with bits of the original smooth chunar sandstone still intact still carrying the famous edict of Ashoka warning against schism in the Buddhist community. (I can't ofcourse read it). The shaft of the pillar intact. The middle broken into two lying under a covered dias and the four lion heads in the archeological musuem, next door. Thanks to a blogger - I forget who - since I had read up so many before the trip - said not to miss the archeological survey of India Museum. Beautifully and painstakingly restored - a photographic record of the restoration is in the museum, Sanchi is a pleasant visit. And ofcourse the curious serenity I find around Buddhist places of worship or temples is here as well.

Outside in the parking were bored drivers, guides jostling each other to grab a foreign tourist party, vendors - wondering no doubt, what could be of so much interest that one thinks nothing of spending huge amounts to travel to Sanchi from great distances, on taxis, on guidebooks, on cameras, on guides and yet haggle about parking fees (I did), shoo away beggars.

Bija Mandal jayengi? Surendra sounded incredibly bored. Aapko pata hai naa, I ask? Haan, Vidisha main, he says. So, onto Vidisha which was once a super prosperous town, mentioned in Kalidasa's Meghdoot. Home town of Devi, Ashoka the great's wife. Really? Impossibly narrow, dirty crowded little town, could be anywhere in India. Garbage demarcating lanes, cross roads. Cows, pigs, dogs. And the seemingly random use of colours - green door here, yellow window there, a woman in a bright pink sari - colours foreigners would find eye catching and dutifully photograph. We went round and round while the roads became narrower and crowded. Finally, even my enthusiasm palled. Chalo. Surendra's relief was short lived. To Heliodorus' pillar, I said.

The pillar, standing sentinel from so long ago, now, in the middle of absolutely no where. No one around. A stray dog and me (embarrassingly touristy in jeans, windcheater, camera, mineral water bottle now containing local tap water filled at my hotel in Bhopal and guide book). The pillar stands in a fenced area with trees. There is a board of the archeological society of India. Surendra must have wondered at my choice of place. And might he be right? A pillar. Except that there is a thrill to think what it might have been around 110 BCE when a Greek ambassador of the Indo-Greek king Antialcidas to the court of the Sunga king Bhagabhadra had it erected. According to some records, he had converted to hinduism (?) since it was dedicated to Vishnu. Having seen the pillars which took about 2-3 minutes, there was well, nothing much to do. And yet, having come here all the way, I could hardly make a hasty exit, could I? So I loitered around for another 5 minutes or so, frequently consulting the MP Tourism brochure before leaving for the last stop (while Surendra kept in turns looking at the pillar and at me, in puzzled amazement).

Udaigiri. Ancient rock cut temples on a dark hill from the Gupta period. The lone caretaker was quite happy to see me, the lone tourist and showed me around. No signs / tablets or whatever they are called - detailing history and information would have been helpful. The climb was painful. The descent excruciating. Thankgod for Surendra. He helped me down, step by painful and vertigo inducing step. Did he wonder what the hell was I doing there? He must have.

There were the obligatory "Sonu loves Pinky" graffitti in hard to reach places. God. Why do people deface these places so? And how do they reach those places and carve out these messages?Panting, gasping (me) and relieved Surendra left Udaigiri for our return back to Bhopal. Just a while back, in Sanchi, what a thrill it was to see slabs inscribed in pali / parakrit? Or was it just plain graffitti? Should I then be so upset with "Sonu love Pinky" modern variety. Who knows? A couple of millenia later, will a future archeological society be constructing guard rails and guided tours on "Sonu Loves Pinky"?! Maybe?!

As I made my way back to Bhopal, I think I got my answer as to who won. Not Sanchi, nor Bhimbetka. But Time - that mighty leveller. Man might make short term gains like in Sanchi but sooner or later, will have to bow done to time!

I found neat info on Sanchi here.

PS - The cam I took from my colleague was out of memory and I couldn't figure out how to erase all the old pictures. I could take only 4. Can you imagine my angst at deciding which 4 to take? And anyhow, am still waiting for my colleague to mail me those pix. In the meanwile, some neat Sanchi pix at Aaravind GJ's.

A Kolkata Christmas

2009-12-25T18:49:00.004+05:30

Ah Kolkata! And its festive spirit and its traditions! If it is 24th of December, it has to be cake for the Bengali. Fruit cake, plum cake, almond cake etc --- better known as Christmas Cake. First ofcourse sampled from gifts from Christian colleagues at work and ensured by frequent reminders from about couple of months back, say right after the Durga Pujas!!!! Next, also bought from shops which suddenly stock enormous quantities of this "christmas cake".

24th sort of brought in a holiday mood although till the new year, there is only one official holiday - 25th! Never mind. Our ladies club met out of schedule to watch first day, night show of Three Idiots (one of our triad thought my SMS was referring to us), while the suddenly excluded hubby of S went to the Sri Lanka - India one dayer. We met up at 12:15am when our movie got over and he had made his way back from Eden Gardens, for ofcourse the other great Kolkata tradition - head for Park Street. While rest of Kolkata is slumbering (and rightly so), snug in bed, Park Street is ALIVE. Every one is there. Wearing santa caps (this years model had a blinking bulb on top - the "tuni" variety). And rest of Kolkata might verily be quiet, dark, cold and empty as a December night would be.

Tired of the enormous tub of popcorn and jaws and forehead aching with chewing the aforementioned corn, we need food. So we head for what seems to be the only place open - Flurys (we ignore OlyPub). Houseful and an ever growing waiting list, all seriously tucking in the not so inexpensive fare! Ah!

Bone tired (I was just back from MP on 23rd night and a full work day on 24th + late night movie) I crashed out at 3am at S's house and slept right through the freezing - OK not freezing but the serious chill - that crept in through windows! And on to 25th. And lucky lucky me - I get to celebrate the third tradition - the traditional Christmas Lunch. Good pal Anne had just come in from Delhi and invited me over to her large and warm family - aunts, uncles, sisters, brothers, nieces, nephews - all welcomed me in and stuffed me with a great lunch which lasted over a few hours. Sated with all the good food, sleepy from all the ginger wine, laden with gift, another christmas cake, rose cookies, I crawl home.

Merry, Merry Christmas!

Not a Kitty Party

2009-12-18T22:55:00.004+05:30

And we met up at Dolly's Tea Shop. Three of us this time. Our second Ladies night out. (A bit euphemistic since its was only a couple of hours in the evening)! Our girlish glee, tinged with a guilty pleasure at taking time out for our very own selves. Darjeeling Makaibari roasted for me; Autum for K and Iced tea for S. And ham and cheese sandwiches and one tiny apple tart. And loads of girl talk. And we had fun going triple dutch. And we had even dressed up.

Last month I took S (a very close friend) out to dinner on the eve of her birthday instead of spending it with her and her family like last year. Her hubby, also a very close friend, was quite taken aback and tried to inveigle an invitation. I don't quite know why, but I refused. And so did she! We met up at Mirch Masala in Gariahat at the end of what had been a very busy and long day for the both of us. Both dressed up (a departure from our usual comfy rags)! And suddenly, shy and tongue tied, having rarely met out of family or work settings in recent years! And as the Bloody Mary and Mili Juli Kebabs did their trick, we hestitantly found that there are things to talk about beyond the usual home, hearth and work. Other stuff. And believe me (this is an aside to myself and perhaps S because we were the ones who forgot) that there is a world of things to talk about, out there!

And we were so thrilled with ourselves. Do you think he (friends hubby) was very upset? I asked. No, she said and then after a while added, "not very much"! And then we both laughed! Let's meet next month.

What shall we do next? Where shall we meet? Breakfast at Flurys?! Why ever not? After all, the operational word out here is a ladies outing or should I say, ladies only outing. We'll take turn with the logistics - which simply means fixing the time, day and venue. That is so difficult, we both agree! Every mundane thing seems more important. But no men! And there is such a nice feeling saying no to any men who might want to butt in (presently only one - S's slightly puzzled husband since he is always the jolly fourth in all our outings and plans and addas)! Haha!

Anything else? Yes: Will not laugh at kitty parties. I used to look down upon them. All this kitty party things (so behenji, so aunty, so inane, so meaningless, so.....) then has something to say for it! I will try and not sneer!

PS - It is still a ladies only outing. And NOT a kitty party.

In search of a context

2009-12-09T22:56:00.002+05:30

'In search of a context' is essentially about the relation of art to its setting of time, place, social and historical moorings..." went the beautiful invite to the latest exhibition of CIMA Gallery, Kolkata . 17 artists have recontexurised some selected artworks.

I usually avoid openings and pick up a quiet moment to visit art galleries - the crush of beautiful folks dressed in their glad rags obscure the art works usually by conversing loudly right in front of them! Today, I made an exception. The beautiful people were well behaved. Interesting art - all media, paintings, sculpture, video and installation art. I met one of my most favorite artists - Shakila and spoke to both her and her husband.

But the highlight of the evening undoubtedly was a performance art all for me! A tall young American dressed all in shiny black and a mass of carefully careless curls walked up to a small note on the wall which was coincidentally pinned just above a garbage bin now full by empty tea khullars, dumped there by the visitors! He kept reading the note and glancing down at the bin! All the while the art accompanying the note was playing on an adjacent wall! It was a video on war!! No doubt he was trying to connect the recontexturising!

It was SO Funny. I had to share it with some one. And I did. With one of the attendants - in grey T-shirt and black pants. And soon, three others came up and we all had a hearty laugh! Now that was recontexturising!

Boro asha koray...

2009-11-29T19:54:00.003+05:30

Hitlist released a week ago. By Sandip Ray and therefore it merited ma's rare forays outdoors. I actually went a day ahead to Nandan, queued patiently for 45 minutes for the ticket counters to open.The movie just a little less than 2 hours is housefull show after show. However, the plot is so shoddy. Cinematography so arbit; Screenplay so run of the mill. A plethora of well known faces with so little to do.

Despite all the negatives, people are coming in droves. Atleast its better than the average tollywood output", ma said.

So much asha Sandip babu. Alas the ashas are not fulfilled. But we keep hoping that it will be. One of these days...he is going to prove to us that he is indeed a chip of the old block.

And that is the reason, Hitlist becomes an unintentional hit.

Lane by Lane

2009-11-25T19:54:00.002+05:30

What a beautiful word. Oli goli. Just like the impossibly narrow, meandering, winding, curling lanes and by lanes, with houses standing cheek by jowl on either side, looming over the goli; Each house a different colour, elevation, architecture, foliage and also size depending on where on the curling and uncurling road, it lies!

Ki bhishon sundor, ki bhishon impossible after the wide expanse of Delhi. And yet, they exist and peacefully so...inhabitants know how to live and co-exist without obstructing anyone else or intruding any more than they already are into anyone else's lives!

PS - Fresh from Delh, I found narrow was the operative word for Kolkata and its lanes. But now, I feel, snug is the word.

Proper Names

2009-11-20T13:18:00.003+05:30

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time might have made it to the Booker longlist 2004 and Boom! hasn't. So what?

Any author who has a proper name for a planet - Plonk in this case (and a chief alien villain called Bantid Vantresillion; and a side-kick Mrs. Pearce - the 85 year old alien in guise of history teacher), is definitely infinitely superior a story teller than scores of those who name planets as XYZ90748ab***yzzpt.

And Mark Haddon, you have company. Shirshendu Mukhopadyaya and his novel Patalghar. Vik from Planet Nyapcha. No wonder both stories are coherent and entirely believable. Aliens, space and time travel. Yes.

So what if I (at my age) still continue to read books for the very young (compared to me they are very young).

PS - If you haven't seen Patalghar yet, do so immediately. And if you have, watching it again will be, you agree, an absolute pleasure.

Purple Emotions

2009-11-19T13:18:00.004+05:30

We all know that plants respond to stimuli. They also experience emotions - seen and witnessed by V, my multi-talented poet, painter, sculptor friend.

She had planted a white blossom and a purple one in rather close proximity to each other. One shot up and bloomed. The other (the purple one) didn’t. Jealous, it moped, according to V.

Then one fine day, she removed the plant which had grown in wild profusion and was shedding leaves and creating a general mess. The other languishing one, grabbed her chance and within a week, had shot up, making the most of being centre stage!

And you can't dismiss it as creative licence. They have social life. Here's proof.

Winterwonderland!

2009-11-18T13:33:00.002+05:30

It's here. The first day of winter! It was 20 degrees this morning. Aided by the rains last night and perhaps in the wee hours too!

I know that 20 degrees is spring elsewhere and a blistering hot, droughty and horrific summer scenario in say parts of siberia...but here it is winter. And yahoo weather confirms this and says that mercury is going to dip lower and lower till we have - my god - 17 degrees on Sunday!

Out then, with the monkey tupis, maplars! The wise bengali, never leaving anything to chance has already by now, taken out his or her woollies, given them an airing under the roddur on the chaad which was there till yesterday...and a few have even had a trial wearing session - yes I met them on my way back on warm, if not hot nights, wrapped in muffler, drapped in shawls...testing it out. My mother said it was no laughing matter. Perhaps they left home very early in the morning and went back late at night. And she should know better because having laughed heartily at them (if surreptitiously... never mock a bong wearing shawls, even in warm weather) and pooh-poohed that no.1 cause of illness among bongs "season change" - I am under house arrest for atleast a week. Doc's orders... severe chest infection / congestion.

Generation Gap

2009-11-09T20:24:00.002+05:30

First came the carved walking stick, followed by an old lady. As the bus conductor helped her in, I took her arm and helped on to the seat next to me. She must have been atleast 80. Small, wizened, short hair, saree ankle high. And ofcourse the walking stick. She bought a ticket for Shilpara, a longish way off from where she boarded.

If she can manage to move around by bus (at all) and that too in a sari, perhaps its time I should too. I just so love wearing sarees, but the thought of the commute by mini bus gives me heebie-jeebies. Don't want a situation where the bus conductor says "Here's your ticket didi and here's your sari!"

Soon, a tall well built chap boarded with his tot. The longish seat adjacent to the driver, where i was sitting was full. He stood in front of me and tried to balance himself, his tot, the water bottle and school bag. I picked up the tot and put him nex to me (there was just enough vacant space for him), while the father looked at me gratefully.

The tot on my left, soft, chubby, freshly scrubbed angel, smelling of Johnson baby powder, happily leaned into the crook of my arm that I had placed behind him to prevent him bumping his head on the metal window frame and made himself comfy. And on my other side, the old lady, put an arm on my shoulder to steady herself in the mad bumpy ride! You know, it felt really nice!

Two generations to my left and right and me - the generation gap, in the middle !

Flavor of the week: Werewolves

2009-11-07T20:13:00.005+05:30

Although unplanned, there it was. First the amazing Ms. Fred Vargas. I chanced upon one of her books and was elated to find a fresh series to devour, having nearly exhausted, other serial writers of serial killers and criminals. Seeking whom he may devour - a serial killer-wolf on the loose or was it a werewolf? Observe - I said devour!

And hot on its heels, the most unique vampire story (atleast among those I have read or heard of) : The Reformed Vampire support group by Catherine Jinks, although chiefly of and about vampires and busting many a myth, it has a werewolf, a very good looking one!

And lastly, Bitten by Kelley Armstrong - positively swarming with werewolves...and bursting many more myths and creating a few!

Grrrrowwwl! Hungry for more....books that is...(I assume a wolf growls, being the sort who would like to see a wolf, if at all, on Telly and werewolves, not at all).

Pipe dreams

2009-10-10T20:35:00.003+05:30

On a new reality show on TV, was watching a contestant with improperly formed hands. He danced with energy and grace. Shiamak Davar thought he was good enough to move onto the second round. Another judge disagreed - his decision was based on the contestant's dance alone.

Arshad Warsi, the third judge said he couldn't say yes to this contestant going ahead because he was different from "us". He said he was sorry but he only knew how to speak the truth. And if he said yes, then it would only because of sympathy.

The contestant said he was no different. He could do everything that others could do. And also dance.

Mr. Warsi said that every one couldn't do everything. He said his lack of height meant he couldn't go for a competition for 6 footers. What in the world???

Different? Isn't that what we all are from each other? Did the dance contest stipulate that only non-disabled contestants could apply? Wasn't dancing capability the only criteria? I haven't read the fine print nor the contract nor the rules. I dont think such a rule can be there and if there is, excluding Persons with disabililty, it is a crime. Atleast in India. Especially since India is now a signatory of the historic United Nations Convention on the Rights of Persons with disability (UNCRPD). Infact India was one of the first signatories. So what? So what indeed?

A signature is only a symbolic gesture. And India's signing means nothing, unless all Indians sign it - in words and deeds.

Equal rights and equal opportunities - then just a pipe dream?

A new bus...no less

2009-10-09T21:29:00.003+05:30

Ah the drama of Kolkata. It exasperates us, disgusts us, makes us laugh and ofcourse cry. But it also teaches us resilience, patience. And makes us appreciate the little things of life.

Like today. As I stood in the darkened bus stop (power cut), a bus pulled up which looked like the W-3 (a boon, if it turns up). There was an electronic board with some mundane writing on top and so blinding that I couldnt see the bus number. I had to wait till it drew really close to realise that it was the one I wanted and had to run in, since the bus didn't actually stop, only slowed down. Inside I found two colleagues who had boarded it earlier. New bus (yes, the plastic wrappings were still on, in places). Low suspension, smooth, purring, hand rails in bright yellow, seats in ash and blue, huge non-rattly glass windows with all panes in place. A stop sign above every seat and a first aid box. Oh my god! We ticked off the features one by one. And we giggled in delight and giggled some more at our delight! Only those who have lived with the blue and yellow monsters or red and yellow mini-monsters will appreciate our delight!

A thought did crop up all the in all our minds. How long before? Before, it becomes a ram shackly, jarring, rattling framework, gasping and fuming its way through planet polluto?
Make the most of it dear bus.

Durga departs and Lakhi arrives

2009-10-02T23:39:00.002+05:30

Dashami was just 5 days ago...and already its time for Lakhi puja (and I haven't even had the chance to post all the durga puja photos). Lakhi Puja at home has been an annual ritual for many years now, more a fun chaotic get together than religious rite. It would be a FULL house earlier, with all our kith and kin pouring in, now maybe only 3/4 full - all of us grown up, moved away, some casualty of infighting and some new faces. Actually, the preparation started from Dashami itself. It was R's last day off (mine too...but in this context, didn't count) and so both she and Ma got to making tons of khaja. Within the next couple of days, another ton or so off narkel er naru. Then yesterday, she dragged the pidi on which I keep the modem and adapter. It is lakhi thakur's pidi...which will be freshly decorated with alpana .. no not by me. Either R or ma will do the needful.

All along, the pandals were slowly stripped down...only the bare skeletal frame remains...shorn of tinsel and glory. Its a norm. Lakhi puja follows in all Durga puja pandals. After which all traces will disappear till next year.

The road to work this morning (Yup...Gandhiji was probably pleased to see full attendance at work today...and when I came home, found out that the tweeting Mr. Tharoor too had the same thought - but alas, for him, not with the same results - ah obscurity... so blissful) - was lined by stall after stall of Lakhi pratimas of every shape, size and hue.

And a vertiable Lakhi Puja bazaar had sprung up on the tram tracks. The largest rolls of 'thor' (the stem and pith of the banana plant and not the Norse god of thunder) that I had ever seen - as big as a small carpet rolled up; Stalks of sugar cane, banana stalks and leaves, dhan, dubbo, ricketty wooden altars and piris, and more pratimas...tiny ones this time with tinier owls!

A long harried workday...a furious thunderstorm and worse lightening and I am home by 8 - looking forward to some TV and sitting atop my precious wooden chest and blocking the TV with her head hidden by a newspaper (it comes off tomorrow at the puja) is a foot and half tall lakhi on a pedestal with a large white and the cutest owl along side.

Ah! I finally get to eat the khajas and naroos tomorrow and the khichudi and labra and payesh.

Durga Puja Past

2009-10-01T21:52:00.005+05:30

So many pandals, so many protimas, so many people, all jostling, eager to lap up every bit of this years Durga Puja...And now, its over. Only photos remain to serve our memory (atleast mine, failing as it is)!

This one is one of my favourite...the clanging of cymbals, the beating of the dhak and the fragrant smoke from the dhuno cast a enchanting spell...

That "Pujo Pujo" feeling...

2009-09-24T19:52:00.008+05:30

Last working day before the puja hols. But the puja fever is so infectitious that going to work even on shoshti was enjoyable. Pujo essentials are hard at work, doing their bit to add to that special "pujo pujo" feeling.

Jams - It took us 2 hours from Thakurpukur to Rash Behari - about 12 kms maybe?! Pandal lights - not fully lit yet - still early days or maybe recession? Shehnai - thankgod a few pandals are still airing shehnai. Most are however airing Mahishasur Mardini and somehow spoiling it because it is to be aired only on Mahalaya at 4.30am in the hushed silence of dawn and not amid the cacaphony of a million vehicles, people, claxons, vendors. And Protimas? In the pandals, but still undergoing finishing touches...

(no weapons in Ma Durga's hands, yet!)

And this morning, as my bus slow downed at Kalighat - we found an impromptu dhaki'r haat in full swing, lining both sides of the road! What a sight to behold. People from all over were frantically bargaining, finalising and then moving off with dhakis... how do I know? Well two men got into our bus with two dhakis! That's how. Each dhaki was showing off his skill and yet not a discordnat note despite all the frantic drumming. Added to the pujo pujo feeling. Sigh!

Vastra Samman - Join the effort, this festival season

2009-09-23T10:17:00.005+05:30

Goonj is organizing “Vastra Samman” – a nationwide awareness cum collection campaign September 27th to October 2009.

There are 25 collection centres through out the country. Contribute clothes – not merely the old ones. Clothes that you had bought on an impulse and never wore, clothing you thought looked good in the store but not so at home, clothing that you will wear when you slim down, clothes that you haven’t touched for years and yet are loathe to give away.

This festival season join and help make this initiative a success.

More on Vastra Samman, here.
Collection Centres, here.

Durga Puja, here is it?

2009-09-22T22:31:00.004+05:30

That golden sunlight of sharod? That crush of last minute shoppers, pandals coming up hinting tantalising of the fantastic shapes and forms they will eventually reveal and giving rise to horrific jams along with the shoppers. And then what? All of Kolkata and surrounding districts (all 19 of them) jostling, shoving, elbowing their way everywhere ... on roads, lanes, gullies, shops, footpaths, pandals...

And that eternal dilemma - To go see the pandals (a very wearisome, tiresome, pain inducing - head, bone and joints, knees and in a multitude other places...the thrill of having seen incredible pujos and irritation at not being able to describe it to those who havent) or not to go and sit at home, not achy all over... except perhaps in the heart... and feeling curiously flat and left out. Is this then, the pujo'r amej?

Well its been so hot and sticky with some furious but short spells of rains...not much golden sarad sunlight. And the crowds...well they have been curiously absent...even though we have been returning home each night quaking with fear of getting stuck. Hasnt' happened yet. Even the pandals are snailing their way up. Are not even causing any traffic jams...Usually by this time, one would be able to tell what each pandal would be like. . And I find myself missing it all...the empty roads, the bamboo-rope-canvas pandals look so naked and sad and we are verging on Panchami...which is tomorrow. Were the build up to the pujas ever so silent? Ever so frenzy-less? Ever so not chaotic?

Then I come home, look out the window and see among dark trees, under a cloudy sky, the Maddox Square pandal - finished at last...standing white, serene in the dark calm of night .... waiting for the rush, from tomorrow or perhaps day after...

Mahalaya

2009-09-18T08:42:00.001+05:30

Today is Mahalaya. And it had to begin like almost all Mahalayas of my life: Listening to Mahishasur Mardini on AIR. The night at its darkest just before dawn, all the world ahush, waking up when ma creeps into our room to put the radio on, the static on AIR, the blowing of the conch to signal the begining of the programme itself.

It has been such an important part of not only our durga pujas past but of our peripatetic lives as well - in our cosy blue bedroom in the small bungalow and then the larger one in Assam, in Kuwait when our nutty ma would (god bless her) put on a cassette at 4.00 am (thank god Kuwait time) on Mahalaya and now ofcourse here in Kolkata.

Since 1932 when it was first aired, it is a part and parcel of durga puja for bengalis the world over. Difficult to say whether Mahalaya means Mahishasur Mardini or vice versa. Such is the popularity (popularity is so inadequate a word...fervour maybe) that the TV programmes a recent development only 10-15 years old are timed to coincide with the ending of the Radio programme.

It is sacred. Every bit of it - right from the blowing of the conch shell at the begining and the end of the programme, all songs, all chants, the music everthing inlcuding the names of the participants - almost legendary now - Banikumar, Birendra Krishna Bhadra and Pankaj Mullick.
Any changes (a few have been tried) have ended in abject failure - rejected unanimously.

The piling up of bamboos, bundles of rope, corrugated tins, canvas tarps by the road side; structures coming slowly, bamboo girders on footpath, festoons and banners, pandals coming up bit by bit, puja barshikis...all important part of the count down till Mahalaya and Mahishasur Mardini on AIR at 4am. We'd lie snug in our beds half asleep, half awake and as the programme would draw to an end, the sun would rise. I would often fall asleep in the middle to wake up to hear another bit and the doze off to find that the programme had ended but with a contended sigh think, there is always next year.

Is there? Will there be? This year, when the final song Shanti sang by Utpala Sen finished, we waited to hear the illustrious list of names as much a part of the whole process...but were aghast.. to hear ads 0ne after the other....harsh raucous and completely shatterring, infact it felt like a violation of something sacred.

And quietly goes the Tram….

2009-08-08T11:44:00.003+05:30

The stretch from the bus stop to Taratolla on my way home from work is about 5 kms. A long stretch of tram line from Joka to Behala Tram Depot acts as road divider. Two sets of tracks – one up and down, with swathes of grass [Green in winter, burnt brush in summer and overgrown tangle in monsoons] on either side and in between, where the lamp posts usually are.

8 months of commuting and yet I am constantly amazed at the denizen’s innovative uses of this divider and to their obliviousness to the incredible chaos all around. This stretch of road has possibly the highest density of population, buses, rickshaw, cyclists, pedestrians, jay walkers, police men, pollution – air and noise, in Kolkata at least, if not in the world. [Small mercies that I can strike auto from this list after the 1st August ban on vehicles more than 15 years old]!

Not long ago, just before the elections, I was shocked one night to see a serenely suicidal Agnikanya Mamata Bannerjee hands folded on the tram tracks. It was a lifelike cut out…but it had given me quite a few anxious moments.

A bustling haat springs up on a ½ kilo meter stretch near the bus stop in the mornings. Vendors with veggies spread on tarps, fish seller squatting at huge ‘bontis’ cheek by jowl with florists who sell mostly withered gladiolis, pujor phool, rajanigandha and nursery displaying their wares on mobile bamboo frames strung up with ferns and all sorts of beautiful foliage in pots! The swathes where they sell their wares are not very wide…but they have it measured to the millimetre and neither they nor the customers pay the slightest attention to passing trams.

Of course the overhead electric lines might snap and fall. That has not happened yet and only a non-resident like me can think of something like that.

There are different haats at regular intervals. In the evening, various stretches are converted into open stores selling wooden furnitures, shital pati madur store and on puja eve statues of Lakshmi, saraswati, Ganesh, jhulan [before Rath] and what not. In the evenings of our stuffy, moist, clammy, humid, never ending summers, pajama-panjabi clad oldies hold their evening addas on these swathes, believe it or not. Seated on plastic stools and chairs that they have carted from their homes just off the Diamond Harbour Road, sipping tea from khullars or plastic cups, discussing world affairs and their solutions no doubt, a world unto themselves despite the traffic on full swing on either side.

And amid all this, in all the ponderous majesty carried on from a previous era, quietly goes the Tram.

To have eyes and not to see...

2009-08-01T14:39:00.011+05:30

SK, a visually impaired colleague recently had to go to Delhi for a workshop organised by the National Trust and would be returning alone. I had left instructions at both Delhi and Kolkata Airport for assistance to complete all the formalities. He sailed through Delhi Airport. When the flight landed at Kolkata, the Airlines ground staff met him with a wheelchair and insisted that he sit in it.

“Main admi hoon ya saaman”? SK said. “Kya Sir, bathiye…hum aapko aaram say le jayenge”, they said. He protested vehemently saying he was perfectly capable of walking. The staff very good humouredly ignored all his protests and wheeled him to the terminal and through all the procedures and outside to where his brother was waiting.

A funny story? Maybe to us, the so called “non-disabled.” Not, to SK and million others who face similar situations daily. Buses don’t stop for them, an occasional airlines have offloaded them, people don’t have the patience to stop and listen to them, don’t see them, don’t want to see them, pity them and dismiss them with at best, a “poor thing”. Them being Persons with Disabilities (PWDs). So many such discriminatory incidents from the highly offensive and insensitive to the downright ridiculous.

The ground staff just took it for granted that being disabled, he wasn’t capable. Of anything, at all. He felt very humiliated at being forcefully made to feel “incapable”.

For the vast majority of the non disabled, who normally don’t face PWDs very often, don’t know what to do or how to behave when they meet one. Either they leave it at “Poor thing” or lend a “helping hand” – one which is more disabling than enabling.

It’s Ok if one feels awkward with some one’s disability, if faced with it for the first time. What is not OK is the disregard or unawareness of the fact that a PWD is a person first – who can do some things and can’t do others, just like all of us. SK manages our NGO’s Braille printing unit along with working with visually impaired children in the villages of South 24 Parganas. He is perfectly capable of walking and negotiating his way through the crowded streets of Kolkata, using public transport and goes on frequent out station trips. He can speak, walk, talk, feel, hear and has emotions like all of us. And like all of us, he has a list of cannots. He also can't see.

While it is true that the ground staff meant no disrespect, and out of ignorance, equated disability with a wheelchair, which was of course taking things to ridiculous heights, this behaviour is indicative of the general apathy regarding PWDs and their dignity, their rights who are aftarall like us, citizens of an Independent Democratic Nation.

A Roof with a View: July 22 Solar Eclipse

2009-07-22T16:57:00.002+05:30

The longest solar eclipse of this century – more than 6 minutes. Once in a life time not be missed event. Next one will occur on June 13, 2132.

I looked up the path, duration, timings et al of the July 22nd eclipse. Tried (half heartedly) to look up science clubs, astronomy clubs and planetarium’s in Kolkata. And while the count down built up worldwide, with suitable frenzy, my plans fizzled out.

Aggotta, plan B: Rooftop.

Ma and I went upstairs at 5.30am and although the skies were cloudy…it was very nicely striated – clouds grey and ash, blue sky in between and a bright sun too dazzling to behold. And then from nowhere a wisp of cloud looking very much like a grey chiffon duppata blew in and obliterated the sunlight and there it was…the solar eclipse. And then the cloud moved away and we couldn’t see anything and had to wait for the next wisp of cloud. And so on went this hide and seek. Partial or not…it was beautiful.

In between, we checked out neighbouring roof tops. Not a soul in sight. Were is everyone? Ma kept asking. Sleeping or catching the eclipse from Surat to China and beyond on TV. Every channel had an expert – from ISRO, astrologers and what not. But the thrill was seeing it first hand.

Look, people are blowing conch shell…to ward off evil. Ma, please. That’s a bus honking.

We went downstairs at 7am and then watched the telecast on TV from different places. Photos of the eclipse by the Taj was rather poetically beautiful. Didn’t make it to any of the places which would see total eclipse – Surat, Vadodara, Bhopal, Varanasi, Patna, Gaya, Dinajpur, Siliguri, Tawang or Targana in Bihar which was supposed to be the BEST place to view the event. [The clouds played spoil sport at Targana and I believe they couldn’t see anything at all. Poor Bihar CM who was himself present, mike, dais et al]. Didn’t even make it to the Birla planetarium.

However, our rooftop more than made up for it. Just Ma, me, assorted crows (the ones ma feeds every evening) and our sunglasses. Ma looking rather hip in my antiquated Ray Bans.

Almost made up for my regret in missing another once in a lifetime event in 1986– Halley Comet.

By your leave

2009-07-14T21:15:00.004+05:30

As usual, I was the last to leave. Today, for a change, I managed to tick off most things on my todo list and was putting the finishing touches on a report before leaving for the night. Today was my first day at work after a bout of flu. I could have finished the report tomorrow...but just wanted all items checked on atleast one day in this financial year!

N was there too. It was normal for one of us to finish slightly earlier than the other and wait.
-- How much longer? she asked.
-- 10 minutes.
-- You said 10 minutes, 10 minutes ago.
-- Just finishing...

The 10 minutes became 40. At 7, she said she was leaving and went downstairs while I took a back up of the report on my USB (for finishing at home), switched off my PC, modem, invertor, the lights and fans, locked the door and walk downstairs. No sign of her. As I rounded each corner (6 of them in the short 5 minute walk to the bus stop), thought I'd catch up with her (longer strides) but she wasn't there. She must be waiting inside an auto at the stand - waiting for it to fill up. Nope. All empty autos. No N and atleast 15 minutes of waiting (if lucky) for the auto to fill up and leave the stand.

I called her: Where are you?
-- Where are you?
-- At the bus stand. I just arrived...took only the time to shut down and you are not there....
-- I just left...Eamaa**.

Never mind, I said coolly and hung up all the while seething. "I will finish my work and leave alone. And leave without waiting for anyone. I should have finished my report instead of taking work home. I did leave on Saturday without waiting for her and not even informing her when she was taking the training session. What's the big deal anyhow? Maybe she was in a rush. And not that there was anything earth shattering except gossip to catch up on", I fumed silently.

The stretch seemed longer...the halts more innumerable (if possible and not just grammatically), the buses spewing more poisonous exhaust...and the pen-ultimate bad thing .... fat co-passengers - who squash you without any qualms. (Ultimate would be a lechy co-passenger). I got out at Taratolla, worse for wear and bang into N.

-- Hey! What are you doing?
-- I felt so bad ...
-- That you waited? Are you nuts (pretending to be genuinely concerned-surprised and not yahoo-elated-surprised).
-- No...I just waited for 5 minutes.
-- What if I'd taken a bus - I wouldn't have stopped to change at Taratolla.
-- I would have waited for only 5 minutes more.

We got into an auto....I elated, she relieved (both not showing it) while I calculated that she must have waited for more than 5 minutes. Much more. We talked of mundane things...and then I got off as usual earlier at Deshopriya Park... Walked with a spring in my steps...in the fine drizzle (hilsay guri) homewards.

That's what friends are for....

** Eema is actually much more common a word and higher in the stakes of the most popular bengali word among bongs than "eesh" of the Aishwariya-Paro of Devdas fame.

An Alpine in Kolkata

2009-07-06T20:57:00.004+05:30

The auto I was in, took a sharp turn onto the flyover and it tilted on its rear wheel and just as I thought we'd topple over...a car rushed past and out of the rear window, popped out an ENORMOUS FURRY head: A full grown (given the size of its head), furry Saint Bernard, enjoying the breeze, a enormous tongue (like a babies bib) lolling. I kid you not.

All of us including the driver oohed and aahed and had something to say about it.

But don't these enormous, furry, cuddly dogs ...with small beer casks tied on their collars ... revive people stranded / buried deep in snow...somewhere in the alps? Aren't they alpine? Meaning from a cold clime. Lots of snow and sub zero temperature is normal for them.

Why bring them to Kolkata of all places, snugly tucked in the eastern armpit of India (no wonder its - Kolkata and not the St. Bernard - so sweaty and odourous)...which itself is located in the Torrid Zone. Sheer cruelty.

Perhaps, it was brought as a pup to Kolkata and has only known hot and humid weather and is quite at home and was enjoying the gentle breeze...

Nipped in the Bud

2009-07-04T20:35:00.002+05:30

Long work week, longer commute to and fro, work load, horrible weather and really nice colleagues – result: no gossip to liven up things. And then it happened...like in a soap opera, episode by episode. No saas-bahu kissa though. Just a pretty overseas volunteer, a local romeo, the local "dada", a shoe shop and us spoil sports.

She - the volunteer - had settled in pretty quickly, found her way about - the tailor, the cyber cafe, the sabzi walla, the boutique and the shoe shop. Whenever we'd meet she'd give us an update on her life so far and her explorations. Then one day she asked if it was the custom here (in Kolkata) for young men to tell women "I want to make frend-ceep"! What??!!! Not one of those again. Most of us have had at least one proposal for frend-ceep, if not more!

"No, of course not. Don't even bother to reply", we told her. She nodded. Then she said, well this guy keeps calling her Madam and begs her for one minute (of her time) in between asking her for frend ceep, telling her how nice she looks and how fair her skin is. Where did you meet him? At the shoe shop. He is the owner's son. Ignore him and go to another shop, was our advice.

We kept asking her, ribbing her about her "frend" and her "fren-ceep" shoes. He had progressed to asking for her cell number, where she worked, where she stayed etc.

"But why do you still go to his shop?" “I don't. He follows me on my way to the cyber cafe".

And then one day, she came running looking rather panicked. "He followed me all the way here. And kept asking me for one minute please".

Gone were our smiles. She would frequently go to the cybercafe at night ... her only way to keep in touch with friends and family far away. What if....

We rushed to our Director and told her. And she found the solution too. And fast. In came the strapping young realtor who is the local dada cum Good Samaritan. He was informed about the little problem. And within 15 minutes, the frend was called and for an informal chat with our Director. Just her, him and the dada. In polite icy tones, he was asked to desist. And all the while, the dada had his friendly hand clamped on the frend's shoulder. The frend who had swaggered in, baseball cap on, crept downstairs all thoughts of frend-ceep gone!

While we, gossipy old biddies, that we are....lurked and grinned from the sidelines!

Theatre of the Absurd...

2009-06-30T17:35:00.002+05:30

... The first thing that popped into my head when I read about Behenji's statue making and installing spree.

The term Theatre of the Absurd (French: Théâtre de l'Absurde) was coined by the critic Martin Esslin, and was the title of his book first published in 1961. Samuel Beckett, Arthur Adamov, Eugène Ionesco, and Jean Genet were presented by Esselin as the four defining playwrights of the movementand later on Harold Pinter.

As per Wiki: Though the term is applied to a wide range of plays, some characteristics coincide in many of the plays: broad comedy, often similar to Vaudeville, mixed with horrific or tragic images; characters caught in hopeless situations forced to do repetitive or meaningless actions; dialogue full of clichés, wordplay, and nonsense; plots that are cyclical or absurdly expansive; either a parody or dismissal of realism and the concept of the "well-made play".

These playright have company: Behenji. How else does one justify crores already spent from the state exchequer on statues of Behenji, Kanshi Ram, Ambedkar and as per TOI reports - Elephants (her party's symbol)? And all this is unfolding not in a theatre somewhere...but in Uttar Pradesh...in India. All's the world a stage apparently for Ms. Maya.

There is a famous bengali skit where Bhanu Bannerjee was told that his statue would be installed...he declined the offer saying what would it serve except for crows and eagles ****ing on his head.

Obviously Behenji had not taken that into consideration nor thought it important enough to consider the proverbial excreta hitting the fan.

But moot point is, like her name says it all, everything in this world is afterall....Maya (illusion)!

More here on Theatre of the Absurd

Historical or History?

2009-06-29T15:59:00.005+05:30

I have always liked going to the zoo – liked the idea that is. The last time I went to a zoo was in Paris in 2003 – to Jardin Des Plantes, very close to where I lived.

Time constraints, work pressure and distance have ensured that it has remained just that - a plan. I tried to in Delhi but in vain. Here in Kolkata, I keep passing the Alipore Zoological Gardens and keep making mental plans to visit it.

Yesterday, I went visiting my pals and the weather being cloudy and overcast, we decided to visit the zoo along with their two bubbly kids (they, I am sure would say that "bubbly" would be the understatement of the century).

Atlast was the chance to relive the thrill of my childhood visits to the zoo. For M & S, it was a place of fond memories of another kind – a frequent haunt during their courtship days – a place so far away and so not-on-the-agenda-of-family that it was the securest and best place for many a romantic tryst.

All of us were in for a shock. The oldest zoo in the country and inaugurated on January 1, 1876 by Edward VII, then Prince of Wales no less Overgrown, unkempt,empty broken cages and pens? What little animals there were, were all asleep, comatose even. What was this ruin?

There - that's where I had thrown a handful of peanuts to the large bear and one had landed just out of the bear's reach. Clever thing, put its snout close to the grill and inhaled deeply and the peanut rolled inside and it to its paws! And over here...the lajja bati bandors - who would cringe and try to merge with the foliage. And over there were the tigers - son of Rupa and Deepak, mother of Rani and Raja, (Which had prompted R, my sis to ask in a very loud for a 4 year old voice - "Ma, do tigers get married?")!!

Look, M would frequently stop to say, we sat there on the grass; And we ate ice creams over there on the stepsthere and remember when we bumped into a cousin...

Not just our memories. These and a million other wonderful happy memories....all buried under debris, litter and wreckage. It would have been tolerable had things altered, made way for the better. We would have sighed at "modernization" but would be happy about the changes.

The reptile house was once such a big draw. And now, we had to squint through the ill lit dirty panes of the glass cases to find, if at all, a lethargic snake curled up in the innermost recess.

And Adwaita the 250 year old turtle from Galagagos islands. [He thankgod, passed away and is now in turtle heaven].

And the grounds filled with beautiful old buildings -- now empty, broken down and the ubiquitous gamcha and lungi hanging on a string ... caretaker and family must have moved in.

The crowd was there as were food stalls, selling their wares briskly which meant empty plastic bottles, packets adding to the general litter.

Does nothing work here? Apparently not. I wish I hadn't gone. Atleast I'd still remember the wonderful visits of the past.

I could have done much better if I had sat indoors, surfing like I do on a Sunday and read about the Alipore Zoological Gardens on Wikipedia and went on a trip down memory lane.

Like all things in Bengal, the zoo too is historical. However, History would better describe it. Next on my agenda was the Botanical Gardens. But I think I will spare myself the agony.

Hard work does pay...

2009-06-14T18:39:00.004+05:30

Another Sunday - my only day off, began as usual. At the crack of dawn, while everyone caught up on much needed sleep, there I lay wide awake. Argh. How do people stay so late in bed. (Some of my friends even get up post noon). And specially since I don't acheive much ... just loll the day away. Wrists hurting from being at the keyboard (surfing, playing games etc) and eyes all bleary from the PC and or TV while my list of must do things gets bigger and bigger.

So, morning did indeed show the day: Early to rise and loads of things done! [Or didn't show the day considering the fact that I didn't loll the day away]. Right. I think I got the explanation right. Main things was I got some of my must-do chores done. Well actually only one. But by my standards, Herculean.

I rearranged all my books and CDs and atleast 10 large plastic carry bags [which are propped up, collecting dust just about anywhere since all the almirahs and cupboards and filled to bursting]full of old receipts and bills. Dusty, hot and bothered...I was sifting through the last bag when I found a small black leather purse. That one - god. Eons ago, Swa had given it to me when we used to work at the Internet Consultants in Kolkata. Was it as far back as 1998 or 99? Definitely in the last century. I used it constantly for 3-4 years and then shoved it in somewhere and used others. This one, in perfect condition, lay forgotten but moved with me everywhere I went for the last 10-12 years. I opened it up expecting more ancients bills and found unbelievably - 14 crisp 100 Rupee notes!

Hard work does pay...then.

Not to mention the room is looking much cleaner and nicer. And am looking forward to more cleaning and sprucing next sunday: Who knows what treasure lurks unbidden...somewhere?

The nicest of surprises

2009-06-04T21:32:00.004+05:30

Gifts are always welcome especially if they are unexpected. Are there any other kinds then? Ofcourse - like at birthdays....they are expected aren't they? But best are the ones which just pop up.

Recently, a group of 16 smart young CBR workers turned up from Nagaland for training on Community Based Rehabilitation at the NGO where I work. Usually I meet trainees only at the begining and end of each work day and briefly at lunch - most of them being holed up in session after session or out on field trips.

One morning I landed up early to find the trainees (they usually stay in dormitories in the campus) finishing breakfast. One of them was deep into a book and as I passed by, I saw it was "The White Tiger" by Aaravind Adiga. I have been waiting for one of the 4 copies of the book at my local library, but in vain. They are always out. "How's the book?", I asked him. "Good", he said. Conversation over, he buried his nose back into the book and I went back to my desk.

Inspite of the fact that I am a member of a library with a rather vibrant collection, I can't help buying books. Somehow, I have resisted buying this book preferring to wait for it to turn up on the returned book shelf. And I have resisted hard. Copies of the gleaming white hard cover book seem to be everywhere - airports, rail stations, book store fronts and even on foot path vendors.I asked him couple of times on the book's progress. Fine was his terse reply.

And then it was their last day with only half a day's session. Session over, they said their goodbyes and disappeared to their rooms to pack and leave to catch their trains back to Nagaland. We (the staff) were all seated in the long dining room for lunch. Suddenly, this young chap - the reader - ran upto me and said, "I finished it", and thrust the book in my hands and left with a hasty "Bye". And there I was, The White Tiger in my hand, mouth agape. I ran upto him and said - "I am not that fast a reader. Don't you have to catch a train this evening"? "No Ma'am - you keep it", he said and as I gushed my thanks (gushing at my age is such a silly thing but I could do nowt but gush) - he bent his head slightly and put a hand on his heart and said - "you are welcome". Needless to say I had a grin plastered on my face for the rest of the day and evening and late into the night!

God bless you, young man! And may some one else thrust another book that you have been waiting for, one day - it's, I tell you, the nicest of surprises.

Jumping for joy (jamruls)

2009-06-03T22:52:00.002+05:30

A long drawn out monthly manager's meeting...8 of us 'managers' in turn updating the Director and other manager on the status of projects we were each responsbile for. Can't say it was very enthralling stuff. Difficult sitting through other's updates...and I was 7th in line. Yawn.

As I shifted in my seat for the nth time, I looked out of a window on the other side and spied pale white jamruls (love apple, star apple, wax apple) with just the barest tinge of green. Was the tree inside our compound or on the neighbours? Atlast the meeting which began at 10.30 am drew to a close at 4. I rushed downstairs with a cup of tea in my hand and there it was - a tree laden with jamrul. Thoka-thoka would be the word for laden in bengali and somehow, it was exactly that. 'Laden' just couldn't do justice to the sight I beheld!! I cajoled Ashok the driver to give me a hand. Using a long forked stick (which was conveniently at hand), Ashok bent the branches laden and I plucked the jamruls. Very soon, I had enough for all (nearly 40 of us) with plenty still left on the higher branches. We went around distributing them to all and everyone said that these were the sweetest jamruls they had eaten in a long while.

I took my share (one) and kept it on my desk and got busy with the actually work (as opposed to meeting about work which we spent the entire day on). When I finished it was past 8pm. I switched off the lights, fans, PC, locked the room and walked out with my bag, lunch box, water bottle and that solitary jamrul! Funny, I never go ga-ga about jamrul normally. Rarely do I actually buy them from the market to eat. But getting them fresh off the tree was so much fun. The whole office was empty. Nearly. No one upstairs and only Prabirda downstairs, who usually leaves much after the rest as he waits for the night guard to arrive. I gave the last one to him along with the entire adventure (much more interesting than 'hey I went to the bazaar and bought a packet of jamruls)! I walked out without having tasted a single one but seriously I felt like I had eaaten the entire packet by myself!

Cyclone Aila hits West Bengal, Kolkata

2009-05-25T19:26:00.006+05:30

Photo courtesy CNN IBN

Aila hit Kolkata, 24 Parganas south around 11 am with winds 100 -120 kms per hour. Trapped as we were at work...while Aila created havoc. There was a brief lull around 5:30, where we could exit and make our way home through roads turned green from branches and leaves strewn and crushed under wheels. Uprooted posts, torn wires and hoardings by the wayside and a marked absence of public buses and autos...we were the lucky ones. Many weren't so. Reports are still coming in of the number of dead and injured.

And although the storm has apparently moved away from Kolkata, its still extremely blustery outside and heavy rains expected.

Cyclone Aila pounds Orissa, West Bengal

Coastal Orissa badly hit by cyclonic storm

Aila takes away monsoon rain from peninsular region

Post Poll Scenario: Silence

2009-05-17T10:01:00.002+05:30

There is a total silence all around. Even the post poll analysis (explaning away of the loss as well as the jubiliation of winning) seems to be muted and half hearted .. on both sides.

A furious, enormous, all consuming tug of war was on...straining and draining all - party workers & bosses, by standers, aam junta et al, with no one was willing to cede an inch. And then yesterday, it was all over. One side found themselves dragged accross the dividing line and the other - flat on their back, rope in their hands ... won!

Sunday will then be spent in quiet contemplation as the realisation of loss and win sinks in.

Election Eve

2009-05-12T20:16:00.006+05:30

Campaigning reached fever pitch over the weekend. The two main parties started plastering the city with gory pictures of burnt and cut bodies each claiming as the other's handiwork. Meetings and rallies were doubled or perhaps tripled.

On Saturday (temperature 41.8) as we whizzed down DH road entered and exited several airwaves: 1st a CPM meet blaring about "Bicchinotabadi (separatist) politics" and while I could wondered if Bengal was to be partitioned once again and how - west west bengal and east west bengal or north west bengal and south west bengal, we hit TMC air space - with Nandigram and Singur and into another left party meet (couldn't see the party banner -- we were hurtling past) shouting about the merits of a certain "netri" - who else but mamati di. A quick stop to unload a passenger and we had an earful of "cows smuggled in from bangladesh and about a cow abbatoir" - BJP meet and lastly (for that stretch) a meet of Gramin Chikitsak Samiti who were going on and on about a healthy government prosob (delivery) kora.

More of the same on Sunday -- which was HOTTER. And this time, at least one party felt the heat too. They had apparently set up a meeting around 10:00am at Lake Market but seeing no takers and probably all half dead with sun strokes, departed, flags, chairs, podium, mikes and all after only half an hour or so!!

And then the skies opened poured down on everyone's meeting and rallies as the deadline for campaigning came up on Monday afternoon. (I think even the party workers were secretly relieved).

Today has been very pleasant. It rained and rained and rained. Its nice and cool now - atleast 10 to 12 degrees cooler. And it has been a relief. Only the normal city noises - cars and buses and horns and general buzz of 9 million residents ... but those are constant fixtures and dont count. No loudspeakers, no michils, no rallies and no new hoardings. Ah! till tomorrow, these 48 hours will be the quitest for a very long time...perhaps for the next 5 years - since normally there is atleast a couple of orators on any given day in Kolkata blaring about something or the other.

More and more buses went off the road on "election duty". That meant general harrassment for commuters...but we are used to cramming into ancient boxes on wheels (something like the cramming into telephone booth fad of ancient times). Many were secretly thankful of the lesser number of buses: They could lead early from work. No seriously, many have had to face this problem today and many are still stuck at bus stops. However, the weather is now helping to somewhat smoothen the wait.

But I think we are going to miss all the crazy hoopla surrounding the elections - all other countries and perhaps even those in rest of India pales at our theatrics! We are going to miss the news bulletins of presiding officers caught skulking off (after poll hours) with the electronic voting machines and the strange tale of some 100 odd officials being transported somewhere on poll duty and all of a sudden they were off loaded from the bus which then zoomed off and these stranded officials blocked the road and created a ruckus!!

We vote tomorrow - in this final and last stage of voting - and hope that this will be the last session for these elections and there will be no need for re-polls.

A brief respite

2009-05-11T22:08:00.004+05:30

No this photo isn't of today. It was not clicked by me,

and most certainly its not even of Kolkata. But it is one

I kept looking at for cool comfort when things were

getting UNbearable.

At last. Our collective wait is over (if only for about half an hour). Mercury touched 42 degrees and was soaring. Humidity to boot. And to make matters really ANNOYING, skies were over cast since morning. Not a leaf stirred. And then suddenly, when we were wrapping up at work, homewards bound, a tremendous nor'wester swept in. Then came the rains. Crazy winds and fantastic lightening. So we were stuck. On top of that there was a rush to close windows before the panes shattered. So not only were we stuck, we were stuck indoors with the windows closed and all the hot air trapped in.

Despite our plans of leaving dot at 5.30 - many buses have gone off the roads (something to do with elections - not very sure what though) - we left much later. The narrow roads were rendered narrower because sides were filled with water leaving a narrow - one man -sorry - make that one person strip in the middle. The rickshaws, bikes came whizzing past on either side with all of us pedestrians walking through the centre, splashing us from left and right. And all the way to the bus stop, brilliant flashes lit the sky and scared me witless.

But at the end of the road, there was a welcome sight! A couple frying HOT piyanjis, phuluris and aloo chop. Ah! Just the thing in the cool and pleasant weather.

Waiting for the rains

2009-05-08T22:05:00.002+05:30

Sight for several million pairs of sore eyes...alas, not in Kolkata.

Not yet, but soon - hopefully