The young brave hearts

Pinky, Tukai, Bablu and Rohan were sitting atop the  boundary  wall with long faces sad expressionand  dangling their feet Bhulo sat on the ground stretching himself out  with his face on his outstretched paws time to time raising eyes to watch his human friends and trying to figure out what they were up to. It was Durga Puja and it was the Moha Nabami , only a day was left and all the fun will be over.

Durga Puja as you all know is the ceremonial worship of the mother goddess, and is one of the most important festivals of India. Apart from being a religious festival for the Hindus,people belonging to all different faiths join and enjoy like all Hindus;,  it is also an occasion for reunion and rejuvenation, and a celebration of traditional culture and customs. While the rituals starts from Mahalaya, offering prayers to the forefathers , of fast, feast and worship, the last four days - Saptami, Ashtami, Navami and Dashami - are celebrated with much gaiety and grandeur in India and abroad, especially in Bengal, where Dasho-Vuja Devi Durga ( ten armed Goddess) riding the lion is worshipped with great passion and devotion. Ma Durga is the Goddess of Shakti (power) who destroys the demon and devil and makes the world peaceful and happy,

As always It was such fun this Durga Puja , going around the city all four of them in a luxury car Rohan’s parents arranged for them . Yesterday they were taken to South Kolkata and were taken around some very remarkable Puja grounds with innovative pandal ,innovative designs , grand lighting, also there were variety of type of Durga, made by artisans at Kumartoli. They went to some prise winning community pujas among which Mudiali was declared as best puja that  year. They went pandel hopping in the morning as at the evening time there would be tremendous rush and it would be difficult to drive the car and the children would need escorts lest they were lost in the crowd

During the Puja through Shasti,  first day of Puja  to Dashami,  various cultural programme were organised by  their neighborhood  Puja Committee in the evening which extended into quite late in the night. The children were allowed to stay on as almost all elders in every house in the neighborhood  were awake and watch it. Last night it was fun as the many parents and  elders performed a drama which they rehearsed during the a long period and the drama was a comedy and everybody enjoyed it very much.

Nabami morning the children walked round the neighbouring places and  watched puja pandels and idols all by themselves. All of them wanted to make most of the pujas , offering prayers ( anjali) to Durga Ma in the morning , pandel hopping after having lunch at the para puja,  during the Durga Puja no one in the neighbourhood cooked at home , as almost all women in every house remained busy with puja work community lunch and dinner were cooked for all residents and it was such a fun having lunch and dinner together and the Prasad , which consisted of khichri, sabjis, paisiom and sweets. These prasads and other food cooked in the pandel always tasted divinely palatable. As if a very large joint family were having food together , the taste and the feeling was so unique that even if these were prepared at home by the same women for their own family  it would be a  far cry from the community food.


The four musketeers were sad and thinking a way to find some fun before the puja ends. Navami night there was going to be religious concert at the puja pandel and the children were not much interested.

Suddenly Bhulo started to growl in a low voice and gathered himself up on all fours. It was obvious that Bhulo had sensed or smelt something wrong.

The children looked in the direction that Bhulo was facing and found a strange man, unusually tall, walking with a limp in the opposite direction. They could not see his face but watched that man was wearing a chequered blue half sleeve shirt and rotten jeans. They also notice that he had a head full of orange hair, very odd indeed.  

Pinky asked Bhulo to calm down and all four of them started following the man, automatically  without consulting each other. Suddenly the man looked back and the face had a terrible scar on its left side. The stranger looked back  quite a few times to make sure that no one was following and walked for quite a long time covering a lot of lanes and by lanes   and suddenly turned left. During the Durga Puja festival the whole of Kolkata and even whole West Bengal, are lighted up with grand decorating lights and music on the air, people come on the street, by car, by bus or simply walk through the street to enjoy the grandeur. At the evening time sound of Dhak  , smell of incense lighted by the people dancing before the deity   mesmerises the people in all the Puja grounds . Everybody wares new and shiny cloths, and everybody seems happy. And nobody cares about what others are doing.

The children kept a distance and Rohan said  "  the man is walking towards the Devil Tower!

Really , so odd chipped in Tukai"

Has anyone seen this man before? Asked Pinky?

No- was the answer in chorus.

Pinky stopped and said’ Bablu you go back with Bhulo you are too small for this expedition’.

‘Please didi take me along I will not make any noise I promise’. There were tears on his young innocent eyes. Pinky said okay everybody let us prepare ourselves for a tough journey. Devil tower itself is a devilish place and a satanic man is going to enter it. Everybody cross yourselves and pray to Ma Durga , come what may we will not be scared and will not backtrack

Four musketeers crossed their souls and with closed eyes prayed to Durga ma.

Do you think day light would be fading soon and dusk may come on us in Devil Tower asked Tukai.

People say shady figures are seen there at night and moving lights and moaning sounds comes out from the place.  Exclaimed Rohan

Ooops lets go cried the four musketeers

And Bhulo barked excitedly.

Now devil tower was dilapidated bungalow type building with windows and doors closed. There was a huge place  at the back which must have been a garden once upon a time but now the garden was covered trees and bushes and creepers, a mini jungle as it appeared to the children  .The rusty iron gate at the right side of the building must have been built by the owner to let the cars to be garaged. This passageway however was relatively usable than the building and its unkempt garden.

Pinky and her gang sometimes visited the building and peeped into the rooms with plasters completely gone and cob webs dangling everywhere but they went to the only during day time.

That afternoon they stopped at a distance to guess at which direction the stranger had gone after turning left. The narrow lane went some distance as a  dark  dirty water body, covered  with dried  leaves  and garbage and water plants fell on the left side, it was a breeding ground of mosquitoes, people said there were rats and may be snakes too, as this water body had no owner , at least not known to the people living nearby, even Pinky’s dadi was not ware about it. The water body ended at a distance and the devil tower stood blocking the lane.  It was a blind lane On the right side of the lane there was a huge empty ground rounded off by brick barricade to thwart trespassers. And during the grandeur and light of Puja this place remained dark and deserted.

When they reached the steps to the back door they found marks of fresh footsteps embossed on the dirt.  Simultaneously Bhulo gave a snarl..  They quickly went and hid behind the thorny bush. A sturdy man came out and looked here and there and said there is nobody boss it must have been a stray dog and went inside. The gang froze with fear and asked sternly Bhulo shhh.,  Bhulo who was all alert and tail wagging looked down with tail between legs.

The man with orange hair came out and murmured I am sure I heard voices and looked around and stopped looking straight at the bush and said ‘ look Srikant don’t  you  think there is something behind that bush.’ Srikant laughed and said check you power boss that is only the shadow; who would come to this goddamned house.   ‘

The two vanished into the building  and soon came out with helmets in hand . The Boss said, should you put a lock here also, don’t you think that it might draw unwanted attention. After all we are new here and have locked the consignment inside.  Srikant seemed apprehensive and with a smirk jerked his shoulders and said “as you wish Boss.

The two went out strolling as if they were lost and looking for a particular address. The children sat there huddled even ten minutes after they were gone and then tip toed up the steps and went inside looking for a locked door.

The children wandered from one room to the other and found nothing suspicious until they heard the faint bark of Bhulo upstairs. Though it could not be seen from outside the building had a room up the starecase..  They     quickly went up and found Bhulo barking from behind the closed door. They were baffled, how could Bhulo go inside a room locked from the outside. Oh my, exclaimed Tukai look there is a window. They all ran to it and got the shock of their life, Bhulo had entered the room through an open window. Day light was fading and it was already dark inside the room but they could easily figure out that four children were sitting on the floor with their back on the wall;. They opened the door easily as it was shut by only a  latch from outside. As they came nearer they saw four children were huddled together with their mouth gagged and hands and feet tied. They looked terrified, hungry, dirty and dishevelled. Pinky and friends  hurriedly took out their gags but the children did not make a sound. When goaded by Pinky and the group they opened their mouth.  They were from poor families in villages and they had been handpicked by the duo with a promise to provide jobs at big cities. They had also given some money to the hapless parents as advance salary.

The oldest among them was a girl about ten , who said that these two people were crooks and they were going to sell them like cattle to strangers. Already two children were sold to an Arab but the sheikh did not want to by the reaming at a time as that might  raise suspicion. A small boy held out his palm and there were fresh marks of burn made by lighted cigarette butts, a punishment for crying out loud.

Don’t they give you food and water

Tukai asked as the children looked famished. They gave us one bun each at morning also a bottle of water. They did not give any food now also.
If they come tonight they might get some food otherwise they would have to starve

Babul started crying at these words

 .

The children said they usually come back at about 10 in the night.

How long have you been here, Rohan asked

They brought us hear on the Austomi night

Pinky stood up and said don’t waste any time we must run for a safe place , the captives were extremely nervous and though they were free of the shackles they wobbled while trying to stand up and take a step or two.  They all started towards the door and their stood the man with orange hair; he had a gun in his hand pointing at Pinky. The sturdy man also had his gun pointed at the children.

Surprised! Said the Orange head  with a smirk. You thought you would outsmart us. You stupid pigs you have walked into our trap. Why do you think the front door was kept open and unlocked?

Heh Srikant , said boss we have got special food to offer to the Sheikh, they are fat and ripe and would fetch a fortune. The two men laughed a menacing way  there teeth showing , body shaking but  there was no sound coming out.

Srikant call up Rehman, tell him about the new items and ask him to come early. The neighbourhood people would soon find out that their kids are missing. We should make the deal by 8.00 pm.  The concert programme at the puja ground will be over by 10 pm.  So they will find about the missing children by half an hour later.  We should clear out of this place by 10 at the latest.

Yes boss, Srikant showed his dirty yellow teeth and dialed the number.

Bhai, the consignment is ready; you have to come early as delay may spoil the goods, he spoke over the mobile.

He listened to the person at the other end and said, this time we are delivering excellent goods and the price would be higher I tell you.

Bablu tugged  Pinky’s top Pynki looked down and he whispered Bhulo is not here!

The fat man noticed him and gave him a hard slap on his face - Did I said no talking, no sound, forget and get a slap as reward and laughed his soundless laugh. Tear drops started falling down his chubby cheeks and he wept silently while Pinky sat down and comforted him and noticed a bluish red mark on her brothers,  cheek and glared at the villain.

The man took a step forward at thundered- look down you bitch, don’t ever show me your red eyes or else ...  He did not finish and put the nozzle of the gun on her forehead. Bablu clutched at his sister, Tukai and Rohan came closure and guarded their friend.

The two men found it funny and punched each other playfully but did not take away their guns. He again put his gun on Pinkys forehead and said Jhansi ke rani eh.. Where are your soldiers ... These monkeys/? and pointed to her friends.   Strangely Pinky did not feel scared but felt anger and humiliation boiling inside.

You call yourselves brave- you are like rats who come on the sly, and slap children’s .Ma Durga will destroy you. Anger overtook her fear and she stood erect and tried to take away the gun from his hand. There was a scuffle Pinky surprised the man and a shot went out of his gun and hit the window pane broking the glass as he fell down on his back.

 All the children started crying and a hell of a 
Pandemonium broke out , children started running helter smelter, the noise reached out side, some passerby’s stopped and looked here and there to find origin of the gunshot.

Suddenly Tukai shrieked , here is a strange orange porcupine and I have stepped on it’ for a second there was pin drop silence in the room, then all the children started laughing pointing at his head, bewildered the villain touched his head and it was as bold as a cricket ball, the orange wig was on ground and children started running and jumping on it.

The Orange Head was furious and lifted Pinki up by her hair and slapped hard and shouted at his mate- Srikant finish her off,  but as Srikant did not answer he looked back and looked straight into the nozzle of the gun police officer Ramakant Sing pointing at him. Srikant had already been caught and hand cuffed by the second officer. Bhulo came running and jumped at the fat man and surprised, the gun fell from his hand.

Thank your stars children, if Bhulo did not come in time and forced us to follow him , you might have died or been sold. Pinkey and her friends took Bhulo in their laps and gave him a thousand hug.and  Bhulo put his tounge out  licked them and smiled a happy smile.

That night all the children had a disturbed sleep often waking up and crying save us, don’t hit and their parents  sitting by them put them to slip  cajoling and reassuring.

On the last day of final day of  Durga puja,  vijoya dasami,  women put vermilion on the deity and put vermilion on each other. All the women wore white sari with red border which they kept for this day when they bade teary  goodbye to Durga while immersing her on river Gangal and chanted ‘come back next year’.

The community members embraced each other and distributed sweets among themselves as a ritual

The four captured children had slept well, washed themselves and had put on new clothes presented by the puja committee.

On dasami or dashera  there was a programme where pop singers were invited to perform on the stage.

Everybody was present and the singers were coming up the stage when Rothin Uncle, the president of the puja committee took up the mike and asked everybody to sit down and keep silence. The Officer in charge of Police Station joined him.

He took the mike and addressed the gathering

On the Navami Puja there were four brave children who dared to catch two very notorious crooks that were connected with child trafficking gang and helped police to catch and bust their nefarious activities without thinking about their own safety. With their help four poor children from rural Bengal were freed from their clutches and would be handed over to their parents. The puja committee jointly with the police are presenting bravery prizes to them and proposing their name for Presidents bravery award. It is a fitting act on the day of Vijoya Dasami, the day of Victry of good over evil.

Everybody screamed and clapped the four rescued children, now clean and with new dresses danced with delight,

But we have not mentioned the bravest and cleverest of the gang- Bhulo. If Bhulo did not come running from the devil tower and insisted the police officials should follow him, by pulling him by his shirt sleeve and guided to the devil tower, we might have lost our children.

At First The Police Officer wanted to ward off Bhulo, as he tore his new shirt by tugging at it, but constable Ramdin recognised him and told “Saab, something must be wrong, I know this dog and his master. “ and convinced the officer to follow Bhulo, and had to run hard because Bhulo kept running at a high speed, looking back now  and then to be sure that hey were following him.

Everybody cheered and clapped while Rohan, Pinky , Tukai and Bablu were presented gift boxes and Bhulo with delicious dog treats and new and shining ball to play with.

The children cried Jai Ma Durga and the whole ground full of spectators shouted Durga Ma ki jai. It seemed the spirit of  good souls cried together and the sky and air joined to hail  the Devine Shakti, which prevailed over evil.

রাখে হরি মারে কে /who can kill him whom the Almighty protects

রাখে হরি মারে কে /who can kill him whom the Almighty protects

I, being slightly  anxiety prone  my family including myself try not to take seriously my complaints about various aches and pains.

For may be 6/7 years I was feeling intermittent pain in the chest   followed by heart palpitations but the local doctor assured me that the pain was due to acidity and palpitation due to anxiety prescribing antacid and mild sleeping tablets’ he doctor every time took ecg test . report of which was normal

On first and  second February, 2013  nights the pain became acute accompanied by breathlessness.  At about noon time  next day, i.e 4^th February I realized the excruciating pain could not be due to acidity over and above I was almost chocking with breathlessness; my husband immediately tried to take me to some renowned hospital but I realized I could not survive more than ten minuets and he took me to EEDF (Sree Aurobindo Sevasadan) quite well-known health care centre in our area.

The ordeal started immediately. I was asked to sit on a chair while they started completing their formalities with my husband. I was gasping for air sitting helpless and (almost a scene from. Munnabhai MBBS) some sensible soul  ordered to take me to the ecg room and there i was forced to lie down while they were  preparing me for the test, with all the strength i sat up and pushed the dumb head but another fathead came and tried to pin  me down the bed - how could they complete the test with me struggling and in a sitting position foxed me even in my desperation. Any way I was again moved to the reception room and I cried with all my strength - I am dying .I can not breathe. for gods sake give some medicine" and some one put two pipes in my nostrils and carried me to the ICU where despite the chill I started perspiring profusely and the resident doctor exclaimed -you are soaked in sweat you should have come earlier .

That night the doctor came looked through my patient file and started filling the goiter on my neck with gleaming eyes instructed his junior to make an usg of it.  Immediately despite my poor health condition,  I protested and explained I am under treatment of a specialist.  The doc argued some more and left my cabin. That evening usg was done of my abdomen and lower and upper abdomen.

Next morning doc told his junior to make a radio active scan of my thyroid gland and again we had an argument and he gave a lot of unpleasant  lectures unsolicited advices and . I asked my husband to instruct the doctors not to interfere with my thyroid gland which is under an able hand. He said that he did not whoever advised me whatever, according to him – the thyroid gland should be operated immediately.

The doctor also declared I was fit and now should be transferred to the general ward, where I found an extremely narrow cot covered with dirty and torn bed sheets.

On the third day they remembered that doc also instructed to make an echo cardiogram and luckily the nurse said the doctor  who does it was still present in his chamber. The doctor was not a female but to my utter embarrassment the nurse opened my shirt - echo done the doctor seemed worried and I asked was there any problem with my heart and he said yes and i would tell your doctor.

Doctor came that day in the evening and as usual went through my file and declared that as I well enough and   should walk in the corridor for some time. I asked when would I be released . He said " considering the extreme pneumatic and serious condition of my lung atleast another week . unless of course if I could make a hospital like condition at home (sarcasm). Then I asked " doc have u seen my echo report?" And he was surprised ‘was an echo made and when and where is the report’. I pointed to my patients file. One look at the file he started shouting where are your earlier echo reports and wont take my word that it was never done. And shouted at me - bring all your earlier prescription of your general physician and I asked- “ if you let me I can go home and bring them. “The glum doc instructed his junior to star giving me medicines for giving vig lasix . cardece etc and left in a huff.

I called home and asked to take me to any other hospital. My daughter in Singapore already asked her father to take me to belle veu clinic and the next morning they asked EEDF to release me and by noon I was wheeled in to belle veu clinic. I felt like I have come from hell to heaven. the doctors nurses, all staff are so caring and efficient. That evening they again made ecg, echo cardiogram and chest x-ray.

 Next morning the doctor informed me and my husband that. I went through a heart failure because my heart cannot pump more than 32 % while normal healthy heart should pump 72%. That very morning they made an angiography and informed my heart muscles have become slack and it is a condition called “ dialated cardio myopothy , Grade III mitral regurgitation “ and there is chest infection which can not be called pneumonia by any stretch of imagination. Now I am under their treatment and released after three days but have not given fit certificate and with bed rest instruction.

There is a saying in Bangla “raakhe Hari mare ke”  who can kill any one , the Almighty protects .

God has given me my life back but think of the others who come there for treatment but are treated like rats and ginny pigs and fleeced. I had to pay thirty thousand+ for their incorrect diagnosis horrible emotional harassment by the doctor. Our society is full of poor  people with little education and lacking in courage to oppose hospital doctors , who  they look upto as their saviors . Who do not know how to protect themselves from this wolves, who would not flinch to take all your organs and  money out if it suits them.

Name of the doc is TK Bannerjee

PERFECT LOVE

PERFECT LOVE

I saw him walking away with long resolute strides, unknowing and oblivious of his shadow , of golden pink of the western sky, permanently  lighting my being, the mist of a winter evening  clouding my eyes, the soft scent of PARIJAT (Flower of Paradise) blocking anything unpleasant and my heart  was crying with ecstasy - I am in love, I am in love , I am in love.

I gazed lazily over the fresh green leaves after the sudden rain, the long winding path that vanished with him, filling me with acute longing bordering  on pain- and I the sky, the trees , the birds all crying in unison- you are in love, you are in love , you are in love.

You are here and i was looking all over the house- i looked back at my husband , the boss in office and home alike, where is my towel I am getting late- how funny , how ordinary and how awfully smug, the towalia lao type.

But strange was my response even to myself ,as I found myself smiling at him with indulgence and went back into the confines of the four walls more as a caring mother than a wife.

Yes, ten years of our marriage was fruitless, Mohon, being the successful business man head over heels in love with his work, his day and night devoted to Lakshmi and Ganesha, happy and content to have a pretty wife competent to run the house single handed.  And I Sarita was happy to be the mistress of a grand villa at the outskirts of kolkata, a well fed, well looked after ornament in it. Apart from business Mohon was also a dutiful husband.

I was busy looking after my villa, my terrace, my garden and my ornaments and never piped into my heart, my thirst for a violent love, drowning me into the strong currents and waves of the rough sea, satisfying my emotion and imagination. I sighed at the rainbows on the distant sky ever expanding and infinity, i was mesmerised with the buds on the bushes happily blowing itself into a flower, i marvelled at the birds for being eternally happy to sing at the world, the eternal love that Nature was filled with.

I failed to pick up the poetry book on the mantelpieces and just dusted and put it back in its place, i looked more into the television at the unending and tiresome serials than at the landscape outside- in a word I was tuning myself into machine –the ideal house wife.

Last week when Mohon started for his business tour of one whole month, I looked into his book case and was startled to find in such a poor state, dust lairs have blocked the cover page, one by one I turned the leaves and in horror found the words being eaten by worms. I picked up a hard cover book with the title “Paradise Lost to Paradise Regained”. It was a book gifted by father when I was still a school girl; I wondered how it intruded in to Mohon’s bookshelves.

 My mind went back to twenty years when one day father came home with a pink book in hand and came to my bedside, I was down with jaundice and bored and lonesome as I was confined to my bed, away from my school, friends and siblings. Sarita, always remember there is nothing like a good book for our companion, when lonely and bored. Child, I want you to develop an interest for reading good books, anything from poetry, novels, journals, anything to occupy your mind and brain from being vain and shallow.

I shied and searched the selves for books, good books and thus I met Parijaat. Thank you baba I said.

 Parijat came with all his strength and weaknesses- with all his sense of beauty, laughing at the worldly thing; he came like flood and washed away my loneliness, bitterness and apathy. He took me by my hand and together we toured the world of poetry, filing my days with his benediction of Tagore and Shakespeare, of Sunilda and Shakti Chatterjee, Wordswoth and Keats   hand in hand we entered into the world of Pagla Dasu and Alice forgetting our advancing ages, and Nischintapur , laughing and crying with imagery. Parijaat took me in his bosom and I cried after a long dry spell, which melted the ice grown hard and cold and blocking fresh winds from the wonderland. Alice was as loving and forgiving as ever, and Dasu as funny. How could I have forgotten you all , amazed at my own clumsy ways, I took Parjat by hand and ventured into his Nischintapur, a place where the age stops growing at twenty seven, where nothing matters so long you are  true to yourself, eternally peaceful and poignant with possibilities, a place  next to Heaven.

Our nights we spent together seemingly two but body and soul we were the same. For a whole week he stayed with me, singing and dancing along, looking at the mirror for an eye-catch, for our eyes could never meet. For a week we ran with the breeze, we drenched ourselves in the rain, tugged along together in the desert wind and embracing each other as if there will be no tomorrow.

Parijat opened the door of the gigantic cage of my collection of precious and rare birds, I was proud of and a must see to all my guest. Are you sure, they can still fly, I was hesitant. Let them die in freedom rather than  live a life in captivity, is  all he said.

We were standing together on the portico -expecting Mohon back any time from his tour , a month has gone in a flash, savouring the last moments together.  I looked inside my heart and bed him goodbye, he came out and stood in front with his back facing me, I must leave you and I laughed nervously and cried - must you -can we not stay together? I knew we cannot- he is part of me- he is a fragrance of Parijaat the flower from no-where , he can not stay with a businessman and his dutiful wife and her proper ways.

So he went away with my imagination but instead filing me up with Love, where there is no body , no   entanglement no bindings

  .

I laughed and cried with ecstasy I have found my Love and my whole world laughed and cried - you are in love .

STAR JALSA SERIALS

.MAA (a tv serial running for years in Star Jalsa) with ALL  its actors is quite old now but the imbecility of the makers is growing STRONGER AND STRONGER. I am really at loss, how can a so called family with retired judges and lawyers and others educated persons have not heard of a DNA test. It is shamefull to see people of our educated society to be so naive as to accept a bride who is switched in between the marriage and still accept it is as legal and are totally unaware of the law of the land.

It is further awfully sadistic to continuously project a child who was kidnapped , going through all shorts of tortures even by her own family, who refuses to accept her as their own and use her first as maid, then hand her over to the police as a thief  and lastly while the grown up girl finally finds a reasonable , intelligent and loving forster mother , to force her to opt out of the grand marriage that her forster mother arranges for her in the middle, and sneak in their own child. 

All through the serial had been a mental torture to the viewers, mostly children (including my own grandchild) and uneducated mass, including my own helping hand who comes from the slums. 

These BLOCK HEADS should be taken to task for polluting our society with wrong notions of ethics and morality. As it is we have more illiterate viewers in city and suburbs who take it as acceptable .

In a bid to carry on with the show, they project weakness and submissiveness to wrong doings as an attribute and take the child, now young girl, almost to the alter of godliness in her abject submission to coercion , wrongdoing , blatant misconduct and lies . It appears that they are tryin to send a message girlchild/woman should sacrifice and sacrifice and suffer in silence to get a GREATEST WOMAN award from the society. It is absolutely disgusting.   I am really worried of the future of the children of our society, who might accept  it as heroism and true, just like our by gone era of  satidaha and  perverted notions of the IDEAL WOMAN by the patriarchal society.

We should teach our child that no character is ABSOLUTE BLACK OR WHITE.   We should encourage and help them to determine what is wrong and what is right.  The majority of our society is below poverty level and they do not have much luxury except a community tv to watch. We are duty bound to educate them through media .

The media is responsible to send right message and educate people and not mislead uneducated people and children to become victim of intellectual pollution.

After the Amri fire incident and arrest of the Directors

After the Amri fire and arrest of the Directors, who belong to the elite and rich business class, media, controlled by businessmen have taken a pole-vault . It is so sudden and so obvious; it does not call for much intelligence to understand the altered scenario.

But the fight here is between the elite and the non-elite, the rich and the not so rich, between the educated and net savvy and illiterate, between the well-fed and the hungry , which constitute the majority population in West Bengal, thanks to the previous Government.

Mamata Banerjee has made it a habit to offer comments on serious issues without checking out the veracity. She, for her own benefit, should refrain from speaking out before going through the facts.

When the  then Chief Minister Jyoti Basu remarked off handed and callous, “ why did she went there and so late in night’( oto raat a okhan a jai kano?)  referring to the heinous, brutal. Infamous and fatal rape case in Bantala, the reporters just looked the other way, because they were scared stiff to protest. Both the lady and the culprits belonged to the same political party.  And now that democracy rules the State and    we are free to judge and comment on any matter whatsoever, the media look for the mistakes only. People out side the State and also out side India are fed with the news that influential media houses prefer to serve them with.

They cry hoarse that government libraries are not keeping some particular papers but they never mention that  during the left rule, only  three party controlled papers were being purchased.

They are so concerned about Damayanti Sen, that perhaps even her family will fall behind in the race; that they are shouting every day to misinform people of West Bengal and outside, that She had been unfairly transferred for the good work done in the Park Street Rape case, presuming at their own sweet will that she did the good job against the wishes of the Government, that fail to mention that she has been promoted along with other IPS officers (60 ) and  transferred to other departments, which is the sole prerogative of the Chief Minister.

It is a sad affair, as people of West Bengal , has brought her in. They are looking up to her for development, which touched the nadir recently, to take the poor and illiterate mass towards new highs. The media houses are  looking after the interest of  a handful of rich and influential  and not the mass.

But  we should be happy that such people are fewer in number and can only try to malign the present Government with malicious news feeds and articles. But the truth will prevail and the common people of West Bengal will win .

Feline kindness

Feline kindness

My young friends, by this time you must have become familiar to  Pinky and her myriad adventures with Tukai, a friend, Babloo , her little cousin brother and Bhulo, the famous pet dog.  To day I would rather tell you specifically about the adventure of her pet Bhulo, and not of his master.

It is necessary that I give you a background on Bhulo. Exactly a year and half ago, Pinky found a squeaky and shivering little puppy at their garden gate, in the wee hours of a winter morning. The poor puppy, it seemed, was left there by some cold and unkind soul all by itself, alone, hungry, shivering and scared. It was a cute little puppy with soft brown hair all over the body with only a patch of white on its forehead and ears, with black marble like eyes and a pink nose. Pinky picked it up in her two soft palms and cradled it to her warm and kind bosom. It was love at first sight on both  sides. The puppy was given both a name Bhulo and a home, was taken well by the members of the family and was added as one of them. But Bhulo took to Pinky as its master and would always follow her, wherever she went. Bhulo was a spoilt and naughty puppy and often got scolded for mischief. Bhulo seemed to like it that way and did not try to mend its ways.

Pinky and her family lived on the outskirts of the city of Kolkata, at fringes of the city to be exact. The lane on which their two stories house with a small garden stood, was named Duttapara . It was an old locality , the families were known to each other as the children grew up together more as a joint family. Most of the families lived there by generations together and though they were not poor,  some of them were quite well off, but there was a very strong and healthy fellow feeling amongst them. They celebrated Eid, Christmas or the Pujas as if , all belonged to the same religion, same conviction, same faith. On one side of Pinky's house lived Tukai with her family and on the other side there was a posh big bungalow, the occupants being rather snob putting- their- nose- in the air- type. The family comprising of  the father, mother and a twelve year old son, moved in the locality about six months back. Others in the homely and friendly neighbourhood , after one or two efforts, stopped trying to be intimate and kept their distance, much to the relief of the Roys, as they were called. Mr and Mrs Roy were seldom seen in the open except getting in or out of their car. They had a son about twelve years old, who was not allowed to mix with the middleclass children in the locality, who attended a Public Boarding School some where which the people of the locality were not aware of. Nobody even knew what was the name of the boy and he was avoided by all and sundry, during the long holidays, that he used to spend alone in their huge and well decorated bungalow. The children of the neighbourhood, including Pinky, Tukai and Bablu also kept a safe distance, afraid of offending the ultra rich..

It was a warm June afternoon, the schools were closed for summer vacation and Pinky, Tukai were playing Chinese Checker. Pinky was way ahead ahead of Tukai, with four of her red pieces already in the opposite triangle. Bablu, who was watching with eager eyes, cheered her every move. Bhulo was sleeping curled up on the divan. Tukai was getting irritated, as she was sure to loose the game and suddenly  said “I am not going to play, Bablu is disturbing me ; he his your brother and cheering you only and distracting me. It is not fair” Pinky realized it was true and scolded Bablu mildly. Keep quiet bhai, you are hurting Tukaididi , and why don't you play with Bhulo instead. But where was Bhulo? They all realized that the culprit was away, to one of   its naughty adventures. Bablu was sent to find out what the dog was upto and Pinky and Tukai again concentrated on their game. A few minutes later Bablu came dashing in, he was flustered and panting, white in the face and could only utter come come save Bhulo. Pinky, Tukai and Bablu went running outside, Bablu led them to the back side of their building just outside the kitchen window their stood Bhulo and Tommy. Now you must be asking, who is this Tommy.? So let me give a short introduction of this one eyed fellow. Tommy was the villain and the hero of the neighbourhood cats and dogs. It was a mean and cruel tom cat, viscous and ferocious , clearing away all its rivals from his hunt for food. In the beginning it had to fight a lot to establish its supremacy and in the process lost one of its eyes but it was successful in cowering down all the rising rebellious tom cats before him. The lady cats looked up to him as a hero and gave it a lot of adoring and respectful look and ofcourse the tom cats hated him.

Bhulo in his own, was an extremely friendly dog and all loved him for this and he had an easy access to every house in the neighborhood excepting the Roys, next door. But he was extremely jealous of his territory and would not allow any sort of intrusion in the form of  birds or animals. He would bark away the crows that would like to sit and create nonsense on the bushes in the garden. He would bark and chase away any cat, that would dare to enter any part of the house. Tommy was so long watching Bhulo with his mean eye and contemplating an attack. That day Tommy entered their kitchen through the back window and was just landed down with a big piece of cooked fish in his open mouth, when Bhulo confronted him. Bhulo was angry and barked at Tommy in a bid to chase him away. A livid Tommy, visibly angry and disturbed turned to face Bhulo. when the three musketeers  reached the spot they found, Bhulo was crouching embarrassingly scared, with his ears and tail down and Tommy was standing with his back raised like an arrow, with hairs standing erect and fangs and nails out , slapping and scratching Bhulo with a paw. Pinky picked Bhulo up and Tukai gave a good hard kick to Tommy and three of them trouped back silently into the safety of their room. Once inside Pinky let Bhulo down on the floor and all three of them glared at him and cried in unison. .”Shame on you Bhulo”. Bhulo crawled under the divan and refused to come out even in the meal time. It was about six months back.

It was now December and schools are closed for Christmas. On a cold December afternoon Pinky and Tukai were playing Snakes and Ladders, with Bablu, as usual, watching with interest and Bhulo curled up on the divan basking under the sun rays coming through the window. Suddenly the three children realized that Bhulo was not in the room. Sensing trouble the three rushed out of the room and searched the garden, but to their dismay Bhulo was nowhere in the house or around it . Three of them ran to every house in the neighbourhood, knocking them out of their afternoon siesta and asked about Bhulo. Every one expressed shock and a good many of them advised to keep Bhulo under chain. Some one said he had seen a corporation pick up van clearing the street of stray dogs. As they never put collar on Bhulo, their heart sank and ran back home to the elders. Monima went to the nearby Corporation office and asked for the address of the dog squad , but came back disappointed, as Bhulo was not to be found there either. That  evening gloom descended on Pinky’s house, every body came asking for news of Bhulo, Pinky and Bablu refused to take dinner, and went to bed crying and their hearts broken.

Unknown to them Bhulo was chained and gagged by the big fat bully son of the Roy’s. The Roys had a pussycat and it had given birth to three cute kittens recently. Bhulo was not at all friendly with pussycat and always went after her whenever he found the opportunity, much to the ire of the big fat bully son of the Roy’s. Now though Bhulo was not friendly with the pussycat, having a kind heart, the dog became friendly with the kittens and would often play with them, unnoticed by the two families. The mother cat, sensing affection in her foe, allowed him to play with her little ones. Today also when every body was busy playing and watching snakes and ladders, Bhulo”s sharp ears could catch the playful noises made the kittens on the other side of the building. He came out and sniffed and stood watching affectionately his tail wagging, the kittens playing with a ball of yellow wool. The big fat bully son of the Roys noticed him from his bedroom window and quietly came out with a biscuit laced with sedative. Unsuspecting Bhulo took it gratefully and soon fainted on the ground. Roy’s son put a collar on him  and dragged him to the back of  their  garden. He taped his mount with a big piece of cloth and chained him to a tree and came back to his room satisfied. That day went by with poor Bhulo shivering and hungry and scared, suffering silently, as his senses came back. The three children, their family and everybody in the neighbourhood were extremely unhappy and prayed for the safety of good old Bhulo. Next morning when the three kittens were playing outside, they chanced back to the garden and found Bhulo lying silently. They were too young too understand why Bhulo was silent and lying down. So they came near and started to paw him to wake him up. They looked at his eyes and found drops of water falling. Some how or other these tiny creatures realized their dear friend was in trouble and suffering. They crawled up one by one and tried to tear the cloth that tied their friend’s mouth. Their soft noises attracted pussycat to the scene and she joined in their Endeavour to free their friend It was a heavy task for so tiny kittens and their mother, but God must have helped them in their effort and soon Bhulo was able to bark, and he let out a deep distress call, howling with all his might. His howling came as music to the neighbourhood, the tree children, their family members and all present in the neighbourhood came running and found a heavenly picture. Bhulo was chained to a tree and the three small kittens caressing him lovingly with their mother standing in guard.

Pinky rushed towards Bhulo and loosened the chain giving some relief. The crowd howled together for the culprit. Mr and Mrs Roy came out and was surprised to find a huge crowed in side their compound and  called for the darwan. The gatekeeper who was aghast to find out the dirty work of the big fat bully son of his master had let the people come inside and he narrated the incident to them. The parents now felt ashamed too and called out to their son – “Rohan, immediately come outside”. The bad boy was hiding inside but had to come out hanging his head in fear.

Pinky’s Didu was the first to speak  “look here boy, you are a human being, but you acted like a mean and cruel beast and put this poor dog to so much torture for your vain pleasure. And these little kittens and their mother are considered as God’s lesser creation; still they have a much larger heart than you. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Monima said “ How could you be so mean, being such a young child”.

The neighbours said “ you should be punished for what you have done”

When Mr Roy started to scold his son, the Tukai’s uncle  stopped him and told him that

“ Look here Mr Roy, as parents it is your duty to rare your son as a good citizen, a kind and noble hearted person”. You two are always busy with your work and socialization and do not even spend a day with your only son. You do not how he spends his time all by himself during the holidays and  do not even allow your only son to be friendly with any child of the neighbourhood. What do you think your son would do the whole day after school and on holidays, naturally he would do all sorts of mischief as he feels lonely and left out. Our children did not even know what your son’s name is until now  and they call him in unflattering names. You should teach him what is wrong and what is right. If you let him keep a cat, teach him how to take care of animals, tell him that it is essential to be kind to animals.” For everybody knew that even the pussycat stayed in their compound, the boy, instead of being kind to her, always played dirty tricks on her.

When everybody was talking, personnel from the local PS arrived and charged the Roy’s for cruelty to animals, which is  punishable by law. The Roys apologized profusely and promised to keep an eye on his son’s movements and also that no such incident would happen in future. The policeman called Rohan out and said if he made thirty sit ups holding his ears before everybody, he would let him go this time only; otherwise he would take him to the local police station. Rohan was really scared and Rohan came down timidly, held his ears and made thirty sit-ups to everybody’s satisfaction.

From that day on Rohan also became a member of the gang of three, as they were affectionately called  and that day was always celebrated as a day of Feline Kindness and all cats and dogs of the locality were treated to a grand feast of milk, fish, biscuits .

What is Love

What is love if it does not give you pain,
What is love if it does not make you cry,
The more I love , I miss you more,
And feel incomplete,
Separated and left alone,
I want so much to be one with you
To be inside and not without,
Like the morning sun and its golden glow,
The silver of the moon,
The depth of the see,
And green of the meadow,
The crescendo where pain
Melts in to pleasure,
I want you here in my soul,
A burning desire for
Its own fulfillment,
A happy tune
Melting into sadness,
What is love if it Doesn’t take you
To the clouds in ecstasy ,
Make your heart stop
Once or twice,
Or goad you to fly into the sky,
What is love if it does not make you cry .

THANK YOU ALL

I have always pondered over the question - why did I start writing, and always the first answer that came to mind is to be heard and to be read. I write for myself and my readers and not for the critique, for I am not at all sure of myself and my writing ability. The readers may take me or leave me, and if they take me, read and interact, I feel content, I feel happy and I feel worthy. I believe most writers feel an urge to express themselves to the world, to find sympathizer and audience in like minded people. Many, not all though, writers are introspective, loners and shy to speak of their emotions. Long suffering hearts pour out in many cases in small black words, letters and sentences and the load lessens somewhat.

I remember in my early days I took up the pen but put it down, when my near and dear ones, smiled indulgently or patronizingly, and even with a ridicule intended but suppressed by their better sense. But again I took up the pen and thought I should try to be less expressive, more polished and improve upon my tool, the knowledge of the lingo. I hope to have achieved some what to that direction and I thank all my readers for that, for giving me strength, for listening, for not slighting my lack of linguistic excellence. Except , of course, the man who loved and married me.
THANK YOU ALL FROM THE BOTTOM OF MY HEART

Monkey's Paw

Like an old wise monkey you
Have taken your seat on top,
And we , the Lilliputians,
Sit at your feet licking our lips,
May be some of your enemies
Get tired and offer you, sugar,
Banana and milk,
Which , you , being the large
Heart that you are
May pour down our throats.
We are hungry but we are
Petty thieves, we snatch
Only in the sly , but you have
Taken the sky in your
Paw and they day
Of retirement, may
Give your Great Paw
To any of us, your die hard followers.
But I am becoming wise too
In degrees ;
And I beg of you, Oh Wise Old One ;
Please do not take me wrong ,
I know how disastrous it is
To ask for three favours-
From the Monkey’s Paw !

MY COMPUTER

While the whole of India is alive on the topic –CORRUPTION- I thought I would put a few humble observations too.

It is true we, the ordinary people, are all corrupt some how or other and we go on exploiting others to our advantage. I speak big but always employ maids at Bengal market rate , which is too minimal. I know that our society is full of poor and deprived people and I can easily get one at minimum wage and treat her to my advantage. We generally refuse to think rationally in this regard. Unless the poor people are aware of their rights and claim for it, we do not give them their due. Well this is the least that I would like to criticize myself for we tend to justify our every move.

For sometime now I am terribly put off by the computer people or the persons who come to tend to my PC. I know very little about hardware and software and get worried if any how my pc malfunctions. When I bought the HP product in 2007 I was high on air, and had nothing to worry as it was on warranty and only the company engineers used to rectify any problem. Once the warranty expired and by then I too retired from my job, I was between the devil and the deep sea. i searched and found out a local company ‘amal computers’. Who would come and tend to my pc from time to time. On one occasion the gentleman pointed out that one of my Rams were not compatible with my pc and so the pc was going black and he took it out and said he would replace it after repairment and he never gave it back. After a lot of futile telephonic requests I went for another named ‘papin solutions’(2011) and this gentleman said the pc needs to be formatted, and we found that the original XP cd was missing from the box where I keep all the accessories that the shop gave me with the PC and the it was ‘amal computers’ to whom I gave access to this box on an earlier occasions. there was nothing I could do, so I allowed papin solutions to format my PC and after formatting I find my HP deskjet 1400 printer is not being recognized by the computer, although the software had been reloaded. I called ‘papin’ and he said either I let him format for a second time or try to remove Win 32 virus which has corrupted the printer software.

Now these are all ordinary people like me, likable , more or less honest and leading simple life, still they exploited me, as they knew I am incapable of keeping my PC in order in troubled times. They do not think twice before fleecing me in the name of their expertise.

How do we cure us of the evil which has gone into the very bone of our society, I wonder

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Address of the hackers are literario.com

ACCOUNT HACKED

I found from google search engine that my articles at literaryindia.com had been hacked

Account Articles Hacked By Bl4ckm4gicx
7 Mar 2011 – Santwana Chatterjee | Short Story | Mar 16, 2007 | 9 Views | Read Full. Four people were sitting

All my blog entries visible in the net under the hacked account. Can you help ?

BLACK AND WHITE--take a flight with colours

In the year 1970 I got married to my boyfriend in November and that year I joined the Calcutta University to get my Masters Degree in Mental and Moral Philosophy. The years ended and the last year of my university days emerged. I was both happy and sad as I was going to leave my friends, as most of them were going for further studies and I was denied permission. We were five of a group that have graduated from the same college i.e. Lady Brabourne College, Kolkata. We decided we would take a picture together and frame it and every year wherever we might be on that very date, November, 29th, we would try to meet or try to connect with each other.


So many decades have passed since then; the picture in black and white still stands on my mantelpiece, projecting five young souls looking deep into the eyes of the onlooker. I still remember I wore a cotton shawl over me, as was running a mild fever. The shawl was dark purple with light cotton embroidery on the borders and all over. The sari was my favourite, light mauve cotton with darker borders, mauve being my favourite colour. Rita sitting in the middle was wearing a cotton boutique sari, she was very fair and the bright Orange colour of her saree with dark chocolate prints suited her. The frame of her glasses was also new at that time, being light golden brown. Anurupa or Panna, sitting on her left wore a cotton print, light pink with blue flowers all over. Behind us stood Kaberi in a yellow cotton and Sumitra in a green silk sari. I was the only one married but I did not put on any bindi but Anurupa, Sumitra and Kaberi did.

I am so attached to the picture; It kind of floats before my eyes. I don’t know where my friends are now but I hope they are happy and doing well. I wish some day some one will hear me and colour the picture with the details that I have put in here and that would make my dream come true, it would bring the past to my present filling my heart with joy unlimited.

Are you there sir at (http://www.hp.com/in/laserjet) , then I suppose you can definitely help turn my black and white wish to take wings and take a flight with colours

Pratham Books: I-Support Fellowship - Connecting NGOs with Professionals

Pratham Books: I-Support Fellowship - Connecting NGOs with Professionals

“A perspective on roles of Indian Women”.

“A perspective on roles of Indian Women”.

I have always been proud to be a woman from my birth and never really thought that I had a different role to play in this world rather than my brothers. But as time passed and I saw and felt how different were the treatment meted out by the world in general to me in relation to my brothers that I started believing that I was something different from my brothers. I knew girls become mothers and boys, father but both the roles, appeared to my young mind, more or less similar . I have seen many fathers to be more affectionate and attached to their children and attentive to their needs and mothers, who were more detached and more socialite than motherly. And of course the other way round too. I think parents, whether mother or father, both should share childcare equally, seriously, so as to make this world a better place to live, with happy children growing up to be good human beings , the future of a society. In the work place also, according to me, a male and a female employee have absolutely no different contributions to make. They can both contribute and be treated at par in any part of a job. Of course, nature created men, stronger physically but, there is no doubt in mind that women are much stronger mentally and can put up with a lot more pain with ease. So men and women, like nature, balance each other.
To me the role that a woman should take upon herself, is the role to lift the weaker section of the people in this world. It is common knowledge that in most societies, especially in the third world countries, physical power takes over to control and dominate the weak, the womenfolk, to be precise. I have always been condemned as outspoken, querulous, quick to reply back , which are considered to be unwomanly qualities, and would always protest, whether in school, against a partial and callous teacher, or against the offending men in a public place or in office alike. And I have realized that unless we stand for our right no one is going to hand it over on a platter to us.
I consider myself lucky to be born in an educated and enlightened family and would considere it my sacred duty , if given a chance, to fight for those downtrodden women , who have no one to protect, no one to listen to, no one to educate and no one to sympathize. In our society, the lower the cast, the poorer the family, the less fortunate are the women folk. The female child are aborted even in their foetus and they are luckier than those who are given birth to and left on the road to die. Still more pathetic are the lives of the girls who grow up, without education and proper nourishment, just to tend to the men folk in the family and latter in life sold to the brothel for a pittance or given in marriage to work like a slave for the rest of their lives. Girls are condemned for giving birth to girl child, while it is common knowledge that the gender of the child is determined by the father’s sperm count. Drunken husbands bit and ill-treat their wives with impunity, and the thought make my blood boil. For me the ideal role of a woman would be a saviour for her less fortunate counterparts in the society. No one knows better the woes and pains of a woman than a woman herself. Women are generally made of softer material and they have a natural way of consoling and empathizing with people. It may not be out of place to mention that my idols in life are Mother Teresa and Rani Lakhsmibai, the queen of Jhansi. And the ideal role of a woman, to my mind, should be a mixture of these two wonderful ladies .