Controversy and Indian politics have always shared a hand and glove relation since time immemorial. In fact, one cannot do without the other. The recent Naamkaran of West Bengal to Pashchimbanga / Poshchimbongo (whatever! it gives me a real headache) has once again sparked off comments, protests, dissatisfactions across the state (Lokpal is not the only issue which has taken the country by storms). From politicians to film stars, officers to hawkers, students to homemakers, everyone seems to dislike this “useless” new name.
“ISSHHHHH (the word made famous by Mr.Bhansali , Mrs. Junior Bachhan and Miss Shreya Ghoshal in Devdas, with the famous Bangla taan to make the pronunciation longer), ki pochaa naam!!” was the common response when this new name for the old state was declared on August this year. In fact, no body, I mean no body except (may be) Mamata & friends is happy with the not so Posh Posh-chim-bongo (this is supposed to be the exact bangla pronunciation). ! “A state in the east of India is being called Pashchimbanga?” mocks an eminent personality of the state.
The apparent reason quoted behind this transformation was “to lift the state up”, not literally but in the alphabetical order from’ W’ to ‘P’.
“But if that was the case, why not lift it up among the first five letters of the alphabets between A – E, just as was done in the case of Madras, from M to C?” ask the frustrated and annoyed citizens (the Awpheesh goers and all Maa Maati, Manush of the state) who (literally) broke into tears after watching the news on telebhishon or reading the newspapers, fearing that this might make the state lose its identity. In fact, most of the ‘Bangalis’ of the state had wished their state to be called just BENGAL, without any sense of direction or region or baangaliyana (just as the English have a tendency to Anglicize, Bengalis do have the same tendency to Benglicize, no offense to my dearest Bengali friends, I will come to this in the later part of this write up) imposed on it. But who will bell the cat? I mean who would tell Mamata that?
The non Bengalis of the state and the foreigners must have had a tough time pronouncing KOL-KATA, when in 2001 the name of the capital was changed from Calcutta to “Kolkata”, reflecting a prevalent Bengali pronunciation and pride. This time, I guess, they are going to have a tougher time pronouncing POSHCHIMBONGO in the way it should be. But the most important question of the hour is: was this name game really needed? Would the people and the place be any better off with such “transformation”? Or simply, if it can be put in straight words, “does the change in the name of a place really bring a positive change as far as the development and prosperity issues are concerned? Is it the only issue that the Govt. needs to resolve? Well, with the disappointed Poshchimbongoans, who are anything but happy with the “unfortunate” decision of the lady in blue and white, the answer seems to be a big NO.
Commenting on this, one of my friends says,
“ Aar koto dekhbo, Aamader Fuldir Rongo
Kolkata ke korben London, West Bengal ke Poshcimbongo!!!”
William Shakespeare had said in Romeo and Juliet, “What’s in a name? That which we call a Rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”
I wish the Bard of Avon would be living in the present times to see this naamkaran utsav, which has literally victimized many state capitals and cities of the country including Bombay, Madras, Calicut, Cochin, Trivandrum…the list is rather long ! How I wish we could now make Shakespeare understand, “Everything is in the name, old man!”
Now I wish to share a mail that was sent to me from a Bangali friend of mine who’s working with Times of India, Ahmadabad. With no offense to my dearest Bengali friends and well wishers across the country, here it goes. (Just read it, enjoy and forget!!!)
What does a Bengali say if the phone disconnects? – Kol- Kata
A talkative Bengali? - Bulbul Chatterjee
An enlightened Bengali? Jyoti Basu
A stupid Bengali girl? Balika Buddhu
A Bengali marriage? Bedding
An awful place? – Awe pheesh
A mad Bengali? In Sen (insane)
A dark Bengali who lives in a cave? Kalidas Guha
A perfumed Bengali? Chandan Dass
A Bengali goldsmith? Shonar Bongla
What’s bigger than the Bay of Bengal? The Bengali Ego
When does a Bengali sound like a dog? When he says Bow (wow)
Also when he bharks! (Works).
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Friday, September 2, 2011
Monday, August 8, 2011
OH OSAMA !!!
Back in the 90 s, like any child of my age, I too was a great fan of mythological stories which my grand ma used to tell me every night, while I was lulled to sleep. I remember the tale of the Buffalo demon Raktabeej who was killed by Goddess Durga in a fight. But this victory did not come off so easy, even for the goddess. The demon had a boon that whenever a drop of his blood fell on the ground, a duplicate Raktabeej would be born at the spot, thus making it very difficult for the goddess to win, as hundreds of duplicate demons were born as his blood fell on the ground. Finally, it was goddess Kali who came to her rescue and sucked off the blood pouring from the body of the demon. Ultimately, he was annihilated.
The 6.94 billion population of the world had a great sigh of relief on the wake of May 2, this year, when the U.S Navy Seals gunned down the planet’s “Mostest” ( I could not find a better word, though might be meaningless) wanted ever born, Osama Bin Laden, in his luxury hideout in Pakistan. It added yet another feather in the cap of the U.S forces and marked an end to the chase, the manhunt that began nearly a decade ago in September 2001, post 9/11. The U.S sources confirmed that the man killed was indeed Osama, the terror king of all times, who had now been reduced to a “bloody corpse”, bringing a smile on faces across the world.
But is it really celebration time for us too? Is Bin Laden really dead? Does his “physical” absence from the earth mark the end of fear in the world? Have the words “terror” and “terrorism” vanished with the “long cherished” death of the Al Qaida supremo? Can we now have a sound sleep at night, without having to worry about any more violent killings of tomorrow? Can the common Indian man can now be relaxed even if he is late for home or his children do not return thought it’s late at night?
Well, with the recent Mumbai blasts last month, the answer to all the questions above is a big NO. In fact, 13 July 2011 has once again exposed the hollowness and impotency of the security system of the country and the powerlessness of the citizens who are fully dependent on the system, a system which has no backbone. The politically correct diplomats are forming committees, holding meetings, making new “advanced” (?) strategies to tackle the security threats, but is there anything really happening? How long will the babus hide their shameless faces behind the milk white curtains of their posh chambers and hum the tune of “Spirit of Mumbai”, letting innocent lives suffer and suffer?
The U.S did learn a lesson from the 9/11 attacks, unlike India who did not “care to learn” from 26/11. Advertising Guru Mr. Alyque Padamsee truly says
” I wish I could tell the prime minister and the Government that there is no shame in admitting that we Indians understand Vedas and Kamasutra, but not how to handle terrorism… what do we have? Police that come late, hospitals that do not know how to handle patients in a terror attack. Why am I complaining? We will never change.”
True, Bin Laden is dead. But what about the hundreds and thousands of Bin Ladens, who are being trained to become new faces of terror for the world, who are roaming freely across countries and continents, like Raktabeej and who are engaged in the heinous plotting and planning of taking innocent lives irrespective of nations, creeds and races, and thus immortalizing the Osama Cult? When will we learn? Probably the only difference between the buffalo demon and Osama is that while the former was a mythological figure, the latter is not. Osama was here, he still is. Actually, Osamas never die. We don’t let them die.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
WINTER- A REASON TO CELEBRATE!!!
[This post was written in mid December last year, but could not be published for some reasons... hope it will bring some relief in the scorching heat....:) ]
Have you ever felt the warm embrace of the wind on a cold day? Or seen the magical beauty of the dew drops on a blooming marigold in the month of January? Or ever felt the mystical fragrance in the air when the surrounding is wrapped in fog and mist, when you could hardly see things around yourself? Well, unlike the poet who hailed winter as a symbol of human sufferings and pain, winter has always been the most favorite season of mine since I was a little girl. But it’s not just these few reasons which make me fond of the chill and the fog, but the most important reason is that winters make me Nostalgic. In fact, winters take me deep down the memory lane, making me yearn for the lost days of girlhood, which I could get back probably in my dreams and thoughts only, or may be in some other birth, if such things are to be believed.
I remember how I hated attending the morning school especially during the cold season in my pre primary and primary days back in the early nineties and would often find a stomach ache or a toothache as an excuse for getting a day off. My parents would go through a kind of an ordeal to wake me up and get me dressed up, but somehow how they would convince me and take me to attend those not so interesting classes without fail, and even if I pretended crocodile tears, anyone hardly cared! The “great loss” would soon however be “compensated” with some chocolate candies or a new drawing book when I returned home. But such ordeals were a common thing almost everyday at my house. And in the midst of such childish mayhem, winter vacations would come to rescue me. Yes, long winter breaks were a great relief to me. It meant no more getting up early in the morning, no daily drama of crying and scolding, and yes, and no morning classes to go for! Thus, winter, to me, was a reason to celebrate.
I remember traveling to my father’s native village, about 30 kilometers from Agartala, to spend those luxurious times, a place where I had realized that sleeping till late in the morning was not the only beautiful thing that winters could offer, in fact, there was so much more in store for me. Most people of the village including my grandparents, lived in mud houses, which would be properly cleaned and washed every day with water. There was a large courtyard in front of the house adorned with rows of marigolds, roses, hibiscus, and many other flowers and orchids. Unlike the city dwellers who smile at the sun not before 8 O’ clock on wintry mornings, every morning my grand parents would get up at five and start their usual domestic chores, and to my own surprise, I would accompany them too. That was the beginning of my real interaction on a winter morning, with a winter morning. That’s when I started loving foggy mornings drenched with dew and mist on the face of earth, making it more beautiful. That’s when I could inhale a nameless fragrance, the fragrance of the fog and the mist which took me closer to Mother Nature.
I remember standing in the open fields, stretching my arms wide open and letting the rings of smoke out of my mouth, on a winter morning, without actually smoking! And I think I am going to miss that forever. Every evening, we would have a bonfire in the courtyard, where neighbors would rush in, and we would warm ourselves in front of the fire, holding a cup of tea in each hand, enjoying every bit of the chilly gusts of wind that ran down our spines. The celebration had no name of its own but I guess it was a celebration of humanity, a celebration of togetherness, a celebration of taking time out of the busy schedules and spending it with near and dear ones, a celebration dedicated to Nature.
Besides cheering up the four senses, viz. sense of sight, hearing, touch and smell, the arrival of winters added to my taste buds as well. I am a complete foodie and the smell of local delicacies on Makar Sakranti and the incomparable taste of patishapta, pitha, malpua, gurer payesh …and hundreds of mouth watering dishes would literally make me go mad, and if given a chance, I would choose not to be sane again, given the condition that you guys have to provide me with these food in the asylum!!!
But truly has someone said that Change is the only constant thing on earth. True, life has changed a lot for me. Now I hardly get time to visit my native village, the sweet dishes do not taste the same as they used to be, the jaggery does not taste as sweet as it used to be, no more bon fires because there is hardly any space in my house in the city, no more standing in the open fields and feeling the "warm" embrace of the foggy mornings, no more watching the dew fall on the coy leaves, well … the list of no more’s will go on. All I am left with is just a bagful of those good old memories that I cherish whenever I am sitting alone in my room or trying to pen down a few lines in my diary. But I still love winter and try to welcome it in every way I could because to me winter is nostalgia…
Have you ever felt the warm embrace of the wind on a cold day? Or seen the magical beauty of the dew drops on a blooming marigold in the month of January? Or ever felt the mystical fragrance in the air when the surrounding is wrapped in fog and mist, when you could hardly see things around yourself? Well, unlike the poet who hailed winter as a symbol of human sufferings and pain, winter has always been the most favorite season of mine since I was a little girl. But it’s not just these few reasons which make me fond of the chill and the fog, but the most important reason is that winters make me Nostalgic. In fact, winters take me deep down the memory lane, making me yearn for the lost days of girlhood, which I could get back probably in my dreams and thoughts only, or may be in some other birth, if such things are to be believed.
I remember how I hated attending the morning school especially during the cold season in my pre primary and primary days back in the early nineties and would often find a stomach ache or a toothache as an excuse for getting a day off. My parents would go through a kind of an ordeal to wake me up and get me dressed up, but somehow how they would convince me and take me to attend those not so interesting classes without fail, and even if I pretended crocodile tears, anyone hardly cared! The “great loss” would soon however be “compensated” with some chocolate candies or a new drawing book when I returned home. But such ordeals were a common thing almost everyday at my house. And in the midst of such childish mayhem, winter vacations would come to rescue me. Yes, long winter breaks were a great relief to me. It meant no more getting up early in the morning, no daily drama of crying and scolding, and yes, and no morning classes to go for! Thus, winter, to me, was a reason to celebrate.
I remember traveling to my father’s native village, about 30 kilometers from Agartala, to spend those luxurious times, a place where I had realized that sleeping till late in the morning was not the only beautiful thing that winters could offer, in fact, there was so much more in store for me. Most people of the village including my grandparents, lived in mud houses, which would be properly cleaned and washed every day with water. There was a large courtyard in front of the house adorned with rows of marigolds, roses, hibiscus, and many other flowers and orchids. Unlike the city dwellers who smile at the sun not before 8 O’ clock on wintry mornings, every morning my grand parents would get up at five and start their usual domestic chores, and to my own surprise, I would accompany them too. That was the beginning of my real interaction on a winter morning, with a winter morning. That’s when I started loving foggy mornings drenched with dew and mist on the face of earth, making it more beautiful. That’s when I could inhale a nameless fragrance, the fragrance of the fog and the mist which took me closer to Mother Nature.
I remember standing in the open fields, stretching my arms wide open and letting the rings of smoke out of my mouth, on a winter morning, without actually smoking! And I think I am going to miss that forever. Every evening, we would have a bonfire in the courtyard, where neighbors would rush in, and we would warm ourselves in front of the fire, holding a cup of tea in each hand, enjoying every bit of the chilly gusts of wind that ran down our spines. The celebration had no name of its own but I guess it was a celebration of humanity, a celebration of togetherness, a celebration of taking time out of the busy schedules and spending it with near and dear ones, a celebration dedicated to Nature.
Besides cheering up the four senses, viz. sense of sight, hearing, touch and smell, the arrival of winters added to my taste buds as well. I am a complete foodie and the smell of local delicacies on Makar Sakranti and the incomparable taste of patishapta, pitha, malpua, gurer payesh …and hundreds of mouth watering dishes would literally make me go mad, and if given a chance, I would choose not to be sane again, given the condition that you guys have to provide me with these food in the asylum!!!
But truly has someone said that Change is the only constant thing on earth. True, life has changed a lot for me. Now I hardly get time to visit my native village, the sweet dishes do not taste the same as they used to be, the jaggery does not taste as sweet as it used to be, no more bon fires because there is hardly any space in my house in the city, no more standing in the open fields and feeling the "warm" embrace of the foggy mornings, no more watching the dew fall on the coy leaves, well … the list of no more’s will go on. All I am left with is just a bagful of those good old memories that I cherish whenever I am sitting alone in my room or trying to pen down a few lines in my diary. But I still love winter and try to welcome it in every way I could because to me winter is nostalgia…
Thursday, September 23, 2010
kichhu kobita
aartonaad
Shopnogulo hoito baanchte cheyechhilo
shobuj,laal golapi kinba aakashi hoye
kintu keno jaani dhushor rong tai pochhondo holo
ekhon ora shob chhotfot korchhe kothao
shekhane jawa jay na, chokkheo dekhte paina
shudhu kaane aashe ek obiram aartonaad.....
Protibimbo
nijeke jokhon i dekhi
mon ta jure jay, bhabi
bhogobaan nishchoy onek shomoy kore
ei rup diyechhen aamay
kintu bairer rup tar sathe sathe
jodi bhetorer lukono shoitantakeo dekhte petam?
Sunday, May 9, 2010
An Ode to a Lost Friend!!!
O Fair Youth!!!
Hold my hand
when the wind is strong
Talk to me
when the night is long
Make me smile
to the melody of your song
Come with me, in the wilderness
where I walk alone
Wake me up
to the sound of the gong
Stand by me
from dusk till dawn
Oh friend!
Those moments of togetherness
today, are no more
Only memories left
all pages torn
Promise me not to cry
or never mourn
As i will always be with you
even when i am gone...
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
random thoughts...
I no more fear to walk alone
for, Solitude has a charm of its own
who cares if the paths are bright with lights
for, now my mates are the starry nights
life is a plethora of lost thoughts
a mixture of whats and what-nots
some forgotten, some forbidden
Some more , forever, forgiven
The sun gives me strength
as the shadows of past reduce in length
serenity from the moon i borrow
as i dream for a better morrow
my smile is no more shallow
for my thoughts are now mellow
i am no more a lost string
for i have found a new welkin
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
life's like that
Life has undergone a drastic change for me during the last few months; in fact, my life was never the same right after 2007 December, the month, in fact the decisive month which changed my life completely, not for the good, but for the opposite.
But whatever happened to me during the last two years, has not made me break down, in fact, it has made me stronger and more confident, and most importantly has taught one very important lesson of life which all of us should learn. It’s that life doesn’t stop for anybody for this earth. Your life is solely yours; and only you have the right to make it go the way u want it to be. No relation on this earth is permanent. U meet people, u make new relations and after a certain point of time you become exhausted of the same, then you leave that relation in search of yourself, your own identity which has long been suppressed under the false pride of those materialistic, selfish relationships which last only till you are satisfied with the outer appearance of the people you are associated with. The moment the mask falls off, the façade drops, you get to know the real side of the person, or rather the real man/ woman….whomsoever it may be. and its only then that you realize that that you have been confused all this time to have been in a relationship with a person whom you don’t even know fully……
Life does not remain a bed of roses anymore, n soon the differences start increasing making the circumstances worse n worse, so much so that finally one fine morning you wake up and break all the shackles of that unknown cumbersome bondage and just be free, just be yourself….
I never imagined that life has so many facets, that life‘s going to me show its true face..But it is said that whatever happens, happens for the good, I mean whatever god does for us, there’s some obvious reason behind it. And I think I have found out the reason. It has just made me more confident n mature, and more realistic. But nuptials have become a nightmare for me; seriously, I don’t want to get into any for at least next 2/3 years for sure. Let’s see what is in store for me in my destiny… oh yes, one more thing, during the last two years, I have strongly come to believe in something called destiny and its power, n now I truly believe that there really exists something called Fate whose games we are all subject to … it’s not that am into all those bull shit astrology and voodoo things, but yes, there is God, and god really helps those who help themselves. Now let’s see, how I help myself after surviving this storm, and in turn what kinds help does god offer me ……. It’s just a question of time n only time….. I don’t want to race against time, but surely along with it…..
Who can say where the road goes, where the day flows
Only time
Who can say where the why the heart cries as your love lies
Only time…..
A woman has strength that amazes man; she can handle every trouble, and can carry heavy burdens. She holds happiness, love and opinion. She smiles when she feels like screaming, cries when she is happy, and smiles when she is afraid. There’s only one thing wrong with her, she sometimes forgets what she is worth…
Every year, all over the world we celebrate, with much pomp, “something”, called International Women’s Day on the 8th day of March. Seminars are organized, processions and slogan competitions keep the masses engaged in a day’s work, workshops on women empowerment are held and what not?
But the fact is that with many other days and public holidays over the time, this national day regress into being just another day of the calendar. We tend to forget what it is actually we are supposed to be celebrating, we barely give a thought to what there is to celebrate; the day comes and goes and life continues as it was before. It does not at all affect our lives, so where’s the point in celebrating a day without understanding its true worth or realizing its value in our lives, just in the celebration and making fun of the entire female race? Therefore, the vital question of the hour is when we know that this is going to be just another day of the calendar, what is the need to celebrate it in a gaudy fashion? Why do we need to tag a particular day as a Day for Women when we know that the world is nothing without them? In short, is it really justified to celebrate Women’s Day, worldwide?
I do not wish to sound like a hardcore feminist, propagating hatred against the men, but I strongly feel that celebrating Women’s Day is like reminding the entire mankind that womenfolk do exist on this earth, and just one day of the year is allotted to them as their Day to make them feel special about their existence and identity, and the rest 364 days, they regain their Exploited status in this patriarchal system of life!.
There is a celebrated belief that women are the fairer sex, actually implying that women are the weaker sex; and the first seed of being weak is sown by celebrating International Women’s Day. Otherwise, why don’t we have a Man’s Day, celebrating manhood? Well, I guess the answer is implied. It’s that we don’t need a special day for the Men folk because they know their worth; they are the masters and rule the world, so they celebrate each day of the year as their own, even at the cost of exploiting and suppressing their female counterpart.
But why does a woman have to be constantly reminded of her worth? Is she not aware and proud of being one? This is the 63rd year of Indian independence but has the Indian woman really become independent in the true sense of the term, compared to the men who are the law makers of our society? Has she been able to free herself from the clutches of the male dominance which constantly make her feel that she does not have any identity of her own? Can she proudly say that now she can raise her voice, without any fear, against the injustice which is being meted out on her by her male counterpart, called the Husband?
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Literature Time
You know its literature time if.....
You dream of Shakespeare day and night
You can't help thinking about Beowulf's fight
Shelley, Keats and Coleridge haunt your mind
Even Milton chases you, though he was blind
You really wish to become a University Wit
Though you know you are a misfit
Just can't get Metaphysics out of your head?
Dont worry, Donne's long dead!
Can't choose between Dryden and Johnson?
Then you are in real confusion,
Puzzled with ROMANTICISM, CLASSICISM, SURREALISM...
It's nothing, only -ISM
Chaucer takes you to CANTERBURY, and
You dream of becoming Spencer's FAIRIE
TRAGEDY, COMEDY, NOVEL, LYRIC- forms of literature
Just like LOVE and HATRED,all in human nature
Literature in death, Literature in Life
Not Only in success, but also in strife.
For whatev'r I wrote, I really dont regret
Because I believe in Do and Forget......
You know its literature time if.....
You dream of Shakespeare day and night
You can't help thinking about Beowulf's fight
Shelley, Keats and Coleridge haunt your mind
Even Milton chases you, though he was blind
You really wish to become a University Wit
Though you know you are a misfit
Just can't get Metaphysics out of your head?
Dont worry, Donne's long dead!
Can't choose between Dryden and Johnson?
Then you are in real confusion,
Puzzled with ROMANTICISM, CLASSICISM, SURREALISM...
It's nothing, only -ISM
Chaucer takes you to CANTERBURY, and
You dream of becoming Spencer's FAIRIE
TRAGEDY, COMEDY, NOVEL, LYRIC- forms of literature
Just like LOVE and HATRED,all in human nature
Literature in death, Literature in Life
Not Only in success, but also in strife.
For whatev'r I wrote, I really dont regret
Because I believe in Do and Forget......
LUMP of FLESH
I am moving downwards
gradually,
One step , two.. three
Down, down further
Where, I find
Fumes and ashes
All around
No wailing infants
No sweet lullabies
but only
bruised bodies
battered lives
shattered dreams
broken hearts
chained desires
dejected souls
defeated minds
ruined hopes
hazy thoughts
intoxicated love
facade of glitz
evil psychofants
dangerous liaisons
cheap incests
nymphomaniacs
engulfing darkness
frightening silence
moonless nights
lonely arms
sleepless eyes
sealed wishes
never ending waits
Plagued emotions
numb relationships
dizzy mornings
lost imagination
torn pages
evenascent memories
forgotten UMBILICaL CORD
I shed off my skin
And reach deep down
Now , I am just a lump of flesh..
But they still call me
A Human Being(?)
I am moving downwards
gradually,
One step , two.. three
Down, down further
Where, I find
Fumes and ashes
All around
No wailing infants
No sweet lullabies
but only
bruised bodies
battered lives
shattered dreams
broken hearts
chained desires
dejected souls
defeated minds
ruined hopes
hazy thoughts
intoxicated love
facade of glitz
evil psychofants
dangerous liaisons
cheap incests
nymphomaniacs
engulfing darkness
frightening silence
moonless nights
lonely arms
sleepless eyes
sealed wishes
never ending waits
Plagued emotions
numb relationships
dizzy mornings
lost imagination
torn pages
evenascent memories
forgotten UMBILICaL CORD
I shed off my skin
And reach deep down
Now , I am just a lump of flesh..
But they still call me
A Human Being(?)
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