Those were the days....

The earliest memories of school, that I have, are a collage of a few moments- a petrified me, sitting amidst scores of strange and little faces in the lower nursery class, a happy me prancing about, after school, among the beautifully maintained premises of the junior section at R .N. Mukherjee Rd, the eager wait for the D-day--- our birthdays, ...mine---when I could dress up in my favourite dress and get temporary relief from the uniform, and that of my friends when I would get goodies and sweets. A few bad memories also exist- that of the terror of not being able to remember tables in the Math class, and that of being one of the most shy kids in the lower and upper nursery classes- shy to the extent of not knowing who my fellow classmates were.

The ignominy of belonging to a class-full of children, where I was a 'nobody' ended when I stood 1st for the first time in standard 2. I still remember the shock when my name was announced by Ms. Sardar- the class teacher, and the applause that followed. The senior section was a different story altogether. The tunics were replaced by smart blouses and skirts and added to our lives were the morning assembly, the hymns, the choir, the grand piano, and the break-time 'chit chat' with the 'gang' - Jian Ping, Neha, Pooja, Aditi, Mitali, Parinaz and me.

The senior section was however, what shaped me as a person. It moulded my personality, and gave shape to my dreams. It was here that I learned what responsibility meant. From being labeled as the quintessential 'studious' girl complete with the thick-rimmed spectacles and cropped hair with a thick layer of oil, and  being invariably made the 'monitor' or 'prefect', along with a few of my 'studious' batch mates, to representing my school in a discussion on TV, school made us indulge in a lot of activities. It was here where I was introduced to poetry- my eternal passion, for the first time and wrote my first lines of poetry. It was also here where I got my first taste of the Bard- Shakespeare, through the school texts. How can one forget the library, where we were allowed once a week - for which we used to wait eagerly, as that was the only avenue to a whole ocean of books which could satiate our thirst for reading beyond our school texts---- we began with 'Nancy Drew' and 'Hardy boys', eventually graduating to Christie, Archer, Steel, Doyle and also the whole range of children's classics.

The long metro ride back home with friends, the wading through the waterlogged B.B. Ganguly street, when it rained, the anxious faces pouring over books for the last-minute preparations before the annual exams, the nauseating odor of the multi-colored chemicals and solutions in the laboratory, the unity of our class when we were jointly punished on multiple occasions, the eager wait for the Homes Birthday celebrations and the Children's day party, which followed--- everything about school was so enchanting, so much less complicated.

How can one forget the teachers who made such a huge impact in our lives, and whom we idolized? Some of whom I can never forget are: Ms.Fletcher, whom I liked for her spirit, Ms.Rehman- who was a motherly figure, Ms.Ghosh- who was such an angel, Ms.Sanyal- who amazed us with her smiling face and the overtly Bengali accent and mannerisms, Ms. Bothra- who was grace personified, and could extract both respect and fear from us, at the same time, Ms. Jackson- the epitome of  sophistication and glamor, Ms. Bose- the classy librarian, Ms. Bodhanwala- the cute and sweet lady who resembled a doting 'granny', Mr. Sen- who exhibited a great sense of humor, Mr. Matthews- whom we admired for his immense knowledge of music,his amazing piano skills and his plethora of tales in the 'speech' classes which made him nothing short of the Ruskin Bond of Welland,  Ms. A Ghosh and Ms. Ray- both of whom were my favorites for the sheer style and eloquence in their teaching, Dr. Roy- who was the most practical of them all, and lastly, Ms. Hart- the epitome of discipline and order.

School was perhaps the only time when 'sadness' meant not talking to a friend for a few days, where 'happiness' meant acing the final exams, and where competition was 'healthy', and life was bound by 'discipline' and 'rules', where the only 'shame' was being scolded or punished by a teacher in-front of friends, where we learnt that good always begets good, and there should be 'no talking' during the morning prayers or in the class, and 'no cheating' in the exams. These lessons and emotions were etched in our young minds, but as we grew up, they seem to have vanished into thin air. The lives that we lead are a far cry from being the perfect realm of school, where the good were praised and the bad, punished. At times, we are left wondering if all that was taught in school, is at all relevant! However, what we are immediately faced with, is a marked nostalgia which transports us back to a world where innocence still existed, being honest mattered, and friendship was true. Those were the days which made us what we are today.

2012- the end or the beginning?

2012, the apocalypse, Doomsday,....we have been over-fed with these terms in the recent times, and according to some, the beginning of the end is here, as proved by the monstrous tsunami and the series of earthquakes that rocked Japan in March, 2011.

2012- the movie

The Mayan calendar predicts the 'end' of the world in clear terms, by 2012. We live in fear, as the impending doom approaches us, and threatens to erase the very essence of 'life' from the face of the Green planet- our very own Mother Earth. However, what intrigues us, is the eerie feeling of not knowing what the future holds for us, the Earthlings. Will we be obliterated, by a giant meteor grazing against the Earth? Will there be a nuclear catastrophe? Will we be overpowered by a smarter race of extra terrestrial life? Will we perish as a consequence of global warming and the resulting natural disasters such as earthquakes, tsunamis, sudden eruption of dormant volcanoes and melting of glaciers? Will there be a pole-shift resulting in drastic climate changes? What is it, that we are scared of? The baffling queries surrounding the myth (?) of 2012 are unnerving. However, that does not stop us from delving deeper into this concept to try and unearth a few plausible answers.

The Mayan calendar

The ancient Mayan civilization  flourished in Central America (in mainland Guatemala and Mexico, to be precise) in the 5th to 9th century AD and was surprisingly gifted in Mathematics and Astronomy. These people were fond of calculations up to 10 decimal points, and predicted the world events in cycles, and subsequently their calendar shows predictions ranging up to a 5,125 year long series of cycles which ends on December 21st, 2012. How the world will end, or whether it will 'end' at all, is however an open-ended query. It is said that the Mayans as well as the lesser known 'Hopi' tribes or Native Americans, both predicted this supposed 'end of the world'. However, the very word 'apocalypse' which means 'revelation' in Greek, perhaps can provide an explanation of this much-feared event. Some researchers feel, what the Mayans and the Hopis were talking about was the end of a world age, not the world itself. Thus, 2012, is being viewed by some as the spark of a new beginning- a world which will be radically different from the one we live in, spiritually and physically.

The Mayan people

Some theories suggest that there could be a marked shift from patriarchy to a matriarchy, since the final 'glyph' or picto-gram in the Mayan calendar suggests the transfer of the staff of power to the female spirit. Some suggest, that a cataclysmic event will wipe out 90 percent of the world's population, while the remaining 10 percent will learn to live in harmony with the Earth, without wasting the world's resources and polluting the environment or destroying nature.

 

Similarly, interesting revelations from the Hindu scriptures suggest that the Hindu God Krishna had predicted in the 'Brahma Vaibarta purana', that the new Golden age is to begin 5000 years after the 'Kali yuga'. This view amazingly overlaps with the Mayan and Hopi prediction of a 'transition' into a new world.

Another theory, is that of the supporters of Michel de Nostradamus, the French pharmacist, who rightly predicted many a world event, including the two world wars. It is believed that Nostradamus predicted that a major comet will wreak havoc on the Earth, as it strikes our planet and creates major natural disasters. This event may also bring about massive chaos on our planet and might be the reason for another world war caused due to the consequent period of anarchy.

Nostradamus

These and many such theories have added to the general guilt of the common man, on this planet, for contributing to the immense destruction of nature, the pollution and the mindless wastage of natural resources. Be it through the depiction of a green world without an ounce of pollution at the end of the contemporary epic movie '2012' or through the ultimate life-saving attempt by countries such as Norway, Israel and of course, the United States of America, who are rumored to be building underground bunkers and shelters for their citizens (Russian firm 'Vivos' has already built nuclear-blast proof underground shelters in the US), the earth-lings have succumbed to the fear of 2012.

An underground shelter constructed by Russian firm 'Vivos'

None of us know what 2012 could be exactly. Similarly, we are not sure if this is all 'much ado about nothing', and merely a re-run of the hype surrounding the '2000 bug' or 'the millennium'. However, something is certain: all we can do, amidst scores of rumors and massive uncertainty is, live our lives to the fullest, today.

Being a "woman"

"So the LORD God caused a deep sleep to fall upon the man, and he slept; then He took one of his ribs and closed up the flesh at that place...The LORD God fashioned into a woman the rib which He had taken from the man, and brought her to the man.'--- This is how 'The book of Genesis' describes the creation of Eve. The question which however remains, is, are the contemporary 'Eves' also mere fragments of their partners? Are they just appendages or do they have any existence of their own, at all? 

We are familiar with words such as 'dowry', 'Sati', 'widow remarriage'  etc. (courtesy: our text books) and how the social evils and atrocities against women were countered by great men and women in the past. However, a real scrutiny of the hypocrisy that we, (specially, those of us in India), resort to, when it comes to the treatment meted out to women, proves that this age-old argument will exist till eternity. 

The Indian society is one of the most brazen when it comes to duality in their treatment of girls. The same people who pretend to be ardent worshipers of Durga, Kali, Lakshmi or Saraswati, do not think twice before burning their daughters-in-law alive, or resorting to an 'honour killing'. The average Indian household worships its mothers, but teaches its daughters to be 'submissive' (read: having no opinion whatsoever, in any matter). 

Even while we rejoice in the glory of the success of the likes of Kalpana Chawla, Kiran Mazumdar Shaw, Indira Gandhi or Indra Nooyi, we still believe that a true Indian woman should be docile, should know how to cook well, and should be a typical saree clad 'Bharatiya nari'. Women are still told, what to wear and what not to wear, where to go and where not to go, when to return home and so on and so forth.

 A woman is tagged negatively if she drinks at a party,is expected to make the bulk of the adjustments required after marriage, is teased by boys younger than her, is pushed and shoved by middle aged frustrated and sex starved men in buses and trains, ogled at by people,and even exploited at the workplace, besides being victimized in the scores of cases of domestic violence, rape and murder being recorded everyday. All of this exists while we choose to shut our eyes and ears and pretend to be good Indian citizens who 'respect' the so called 'good' women (read: those equivalent to cattle being fed and taken care of and then being used and exhibited as showpieces in front of friends or neighbours) and shun 'bad' women (read: those who have an identity of their own, and voice their own views and refuse to be taken for granted and being told what to wear, what to eat and how to behave).

The truth is, that the society views a 'woman' as just a 'woman', when she is in fact, as much 'human' as her male counterpart is. It is true that only a woman can realize the intensity of this evil, but it is also a fact, that it is only due to the indifferent attitude of some of our race, (who choose to depend on their men entirely and believe in the illusion that life is much easier, that way), that women are at the receiving end of such immense torture. 

It does not take a rocket scientist to understand that a woman will forever be a 'woman' and not a human being, if she herself does not stop being the 'damsel in distress' in every adverse situation. It is not the 'knight in shining armour' who will help us in our worst times, but it is us, and the spirit within us, which will help us make ourselves heard. Thus, what we need is not a sham called 'Women's Day', when we will pretend to be independent and at par with men, but a strong resolve to be ourselves and not what the society expects us to be, at any point of time, today or tomorrow. 

Let this be our vow, and let this be our promise to ourselves. 

The Delhi chapter

It began with an overnight journey by 'The Rajdhani' garnished with the usual romance of a journey by train. My trip to the capital of India was about to begin. This was my second rendezvous with 'Dilli' as locals love to call it. The first time I came to Delhi, was way back in school. That was a mere vacation. This, was my real tryst with the sights and sounds of  the real Delhi- loud, boisterous, yet classy and serene- an amalgamation of the extremes.

The first thing that strikes any resident Calcatian who has been to Delhi, are the roads, where driving may be termed a pleasant activity, as opposed to the pothole-ridden Kolkata. However the traffic in Delhi is a far cry from being pleasant. Vehicles rush in from any and every direction, irrespective of the signals. Delhi traffic is marred by a desperate rush, it seems, to a place where reaching a minute late, is a crime. 

The malls aren't much different from the ones in our dear old Kolkata. The only difference is that, I found most of the people actually busy with some serious shopping, even on a supposedly 'off-season' Sunday evening as opposed to the malls in Kolkata, where the entire crowd is glued to the movie halls or the food courts,even ready to queue up for hours but not paying heed to the desperate glances of the bored salesgirl of a garment store on the same floor.

The next few days were spent in varied activities, ranging from haggling and bargaining with roadside peddlers at Connaught Place and feeling triumphant at having managed to buy an exquisitely beautiful 'jhola', and some equally gorgeous 'home accessories', hogging on 'gajar ka halwa', 'laddoos', & scores of 'pethas', 'rewari' and 'gazzak', browsing through the fabulous collection of environment-friendly gifts and accessories at  'People Tree', a sumptuous lunch at the Golf course overlooking the sprawling greens, gorging on 'chaat' & 'golgappa' at Dilli Haat while watching a street-play by some overtly talented DU students and finding an authentic Bengali 'thaali' at the same place, a few minutes later. 

Some moments that will be etched in my memory forever include the sudden encounter with the deer-like creature which appeared all of a sudden on the highway, sprinting into the night-time traffic and disappeared with equal abruptness after kicking a bike-rider and his pillion. The Bengali guide at the Agra fort was yet another revelation as was the guide who could speak fluent French. The Taj and its splendor is something I had the opportunity of experiencing twice in my lifetime. The architecture at the Qutab and the creativity crafted in gold and precious stones at the Akshardham were equally mesmerizing.

My rendezvous with North India was short yet fulfilling to the core. However, I wonder why the 'Rosogollas' in Delhi weren't as tasty or sweet as their counterparts in Kolkata. Perhaps this is why a true 'Calcatian' misses his/her sweets wherever he/she goes. Au revoir Delhi (Tu me manque, mais, sans le sucre). 

Fake 'Reality'

How real is 'Reality TV'? Till a few years back, this term heralded a new era in the bland world of television, (more so, the bland world of Indian television, ruled singlehandedly by the queen of the K-drama, Ms. Ekta Kapoor). However, one wonders, how true to reality has 'Reality TV' been? Can the supposed spontaneity projected in these shows, be enough to shoot up the TRP charts?

Though reality TV has been part of television ever since its inception, (we all remember watching the immensely real game shows such as 'Jaldi jaldi', quiz shows such as the Bournvita quiz contest, debates, cookery shows such as 'Khana khazana' or talent shows such as 'Sa re ga ma' , 'Antakshari' or 'Boogie woogie'), the tag of 'reality' which is nothing more than a marketing gimmick, was attached to such shows, much later.

I came across true 'reality' TV, so to speak, replete with the drama quotient, in the American adventure series, 'Survivor'. It was one show which was capable of making the overtly pretentious and fake realm of the so-called 'reality TV' within the confines of the four walls of 'Big Boss', seem rather pedestrian. 'Survivor' was a show that projected the lives of a group of happy-go-lucky, adventure-loving Americans who were left on a remote island in Borneo, and had to survive a tumultuous journey garnished with a healthy dose of competition, rivalry, tasks and vote-outs.

Another 'reality' show one enjoyed during the initial days, was 'Roadies'. A far cry from the mindless, loud and sometimes vulgar drama that has been on display in the latest editions of this show, the initial seasons were interesting and focussed more on the adventure quotient rather than trying to mimic the 'in-your-face politics' of K-serials.

'Reality' TV has since then evolved, or should I say, transformed into a more 'unreal' version of itself. Amidst a plethora of shows, one remembers the adrenaline-pumping 'Fear factor', the exciting, 'The Amazing Race', the entertaining 'Who wants to be a millionaire', 'Big brother', 'The Weakest Llink' or our desi versions such as 'KBC', 'Kamzor kadi kaun', 'Khatron ke khiladi', 'Indian idol', 'Big Boss', 'Get Gorgeous', 'Master chef India', 'Axe your ex', 'Bakra', 'Splitsvilla'...and the list goes on....

Special mention must be made of rather coarse shows such as 'Emotional Atyachar' which seem hell-bent on  splitting up couples (are they real couples at all?) by showcasing rather raunchy (and seemingly phony) details of betrayal, spooky shows such as 'Girl's night out' or 'The chair' which will put even the Ramsey brothers to shame, by their perfect portrayal of haunted locations and possessed contestants, dating shows such as 'Lovenet' or 'Dare to date' which bring out the worst in the dating couples, and finally shows such as 'Rakhi ka Swayamvar', 'Pati, patni aur woh' or 'Rahul Dulhaniya le jayega', which cross all levels of tolerance and drive one to the brink of insanity.

Though one is 'used to' seeing high drama being enacted on these rather 'scripted' reality shows, such as fights between contestants or judges, and the typical 'rona dhona' which has become 'oh-so-clichéd', the final icing on the cake was perhaps waiting to reveal itself. This event was the latest,  to have shamed the realm of reality TV - the 'fake' marriage which was being performed by thorough professionals (Remember, most of the participants are seasoned TV stars) in 'Big Boss'. The so-called marriage between two TV starlets, which was celebrated so very elaborately and with great pomp and show turned out to be a clever ploy to make the series a hit. Apparently the couple had been secretly married since a long time and agreed to act according to this plot only after the channel agreed to pay them a lump sum.

This is the 'reality' of the brazen world of 'Reality TV' which has perhaps become the most hated word in the history of Indian television. However, love it or hate it, we cannot ignore the reality of the existence of 'Reality TV' and the attention surrounding it. One hopes though, that such scripted reality fades away soon, to make way for entertaining and real shows,which will be appreciated by one and all,without the participants having to act out their roles in them.

Rendezvous avec une experience magnifique

 It was my first class at 'Alliance Francaise' after a long time, three years, to be precise. The long walk towards the quintessential Gothic 'Khaleel Manzil' from 'Ravindra Sadan' was a pleasure, since it was garnished with a collage of cherished memories of my rendezvous with French, three years back.

I was reminded of the incident, when I missed the first class, for watching 'Spiderman' at Inox & the utter joy of finding out, that the sweet girl who I thought was a fellow student, was supposed to be our French instructor, Mademoiselle Paromita. I remember the hilarious event when the mere inclusion of an extra letter in a sentence,  made the class erupt in a roar of laughter, courtesy, 'moi', who uttered the not-so-utterable 'Je t'aime' instead of 'J'aime regarder la television', in a class 'activite'. The camaraderie that existed was pure and I think I should thank my stars, for such talented batchmates who turned out to be great friends too. It is here, when I mention 'friends' that I think I need to make special mention of the guy who I thought, was a Frenchman, in his past life - Monsieur Soudipe (yeah, that's how the fair 'bhodrolok' from Chandannagore - once, a prosperous French colony, spelt his name, for which I blame his obsession with anything and everything that was 'French' or related to France).

The class was a huge success as far as the 'enjoyment quotient' is concerned. However, I was least bothered about French grammar and more concerned about the overtly interesting French vocabulary. The 'French feel' , the French movies, the library with its huge stock of books, of which I dared to read a volume of 'Asterix', once (rather, 'tried to read', to put it accurately), the 'fete de la musique' where we sang 'Aux Champs Elysees', the sensuous 'La femme chocolat' by Mlle Paromita, the lady who was my inspiration, the birthday of our batchmate Sohan -who was a cute little precocious teenager, at that time, and my attempt at some creative calligraphy on the white-board, the tall 'Frenchman' with a beard, Deepanjan, who shocked me again when he revealed that he was infact a Bengali...... everything, just everything about the 'Alliance Francaise' days, has been etched in my memory and is something 'inoubliable'.

The wooden staircase of 'Khaleel Manzil', the multilingual and multitasking Salim da, and the once haunted Bimal villa (which had a creaking door and scared me out of my wits when I had reached early, one fine day, only to find an empty AF), which now shines beneath a fresh coat of bright red paint, were some of those few elements which existed back then, and still do.

It's with such fond memories and hopes of more such unforgettable events, that I have begun another journey, which was cut short earlier, and I hope to do justice to every bit of the 'Francaise' soul in me :)

'Bonne chance' to me !!! & cheers to Alliance Francaise !!!

The 'Indian' in me

A land which Mark Twain once described as the "...cradle of the human race, the birthplace of human speech, the mother of history...", India, is a land, which showcases 'unity in diversity' in the most pronounced manner.

A land, which possesses a rich definition of 'culture', India, unlike other such nations of the world, has never ever invaded any land, which is not surprising, when one considers the doctrine of 'Ahimsa' preached by the Mahatma.

The land, through its very name, proclaims its rich heritage, reminding one, of the 'Indus', and the archaic tales of the early settlers, who  were responsible for the inception of an entire civilization.

If one speaks of the Indian pride, the contemporary conquests made by the Indian cricketers,the Indian beauties,movie stars,authors and scientists abound in the instances, thus quoted. But,what about the jewels adorning our Mother nation's crown since the ancient times? Even Einstein did not flinch from mentioning our treasured land, when he said, "We owe a lot to the Indians, who taught us how to count, without which no worthwhile scientific discovery could have been made", referring to the birth of the decimal system. The complexities of Algebra, Trigonometry or Calculus, the treasured concept of Yoga, which oozes the spiritual essence which our land has to offer, or the age-old formula of the 'Ayurvedic' concoctions which have healed the young and the old, for centuries, are just a few of the very many ideas that have emerged from the great souls who have once inhabited this land.

However, in its skewed brilliance in sports (Read: The Government's overtly enthusiastic attitude towards cricket and cricketers, while ignoring other sporting activities) , the rigid education system( Read: The middle class obsession with technical and  management degrees, stifling the emergence of any form of divergence, such as fine arts, or extracurriculars), or the pandemonium called 'politics' (the word which has acquired a new meaning in the contemporary Indian milieu--that of an almost shameless pursuit of public attention, by politicians, every five years), India has seen its worst.

However, the 1.15 billion inhabitants, who reside in this land of ours, will never cease to be proud of India. We dream of witnessing the birth of a new India, devoid of poverty, bribery, honour killings, domestic abuse and violence against women and children, and many such evils which are still awaiting an early eradication.

On this note, here's wishing every fellow Indian, a very Happy Independence Day. Long live India.