Recipes that can save your life!

I have been off from the blog for sometime and there are not plausible explanations probably. The relocation and the settling down here bit took a little toll. But right now I am all set :) First thing first, I am in love with Europe! it's open air cafes, rich history, people, cultural canvas and food! The last one- umm! may be!

I am a Bong who swears by her rice and fish or chicken curry! A 'bheto bangali' to the core and for me to stay in a land where rice is eaten sparsely was a challenge that I faced from the very beginning. And I have a thing for everything spicy. So when I could not figure out green chillies on the racks of the neighbourhood supermarket, I was disappointed to say the least.

But then again, Indians are geniuses! A visit to the Asian store and all my fears about living a bland life here (foodwise only :P) were dispelled. The hilsa available here is no less than the Podma variety. And who does not know the orgasmic expression on the face of a Bong when he hears about "Podmar Ilish".

This does not mean although that I donned the hat of Masterchef within a day. I am lucky that my husband is absolutely non fussy about food. In fact he can survive on Continental fare, bread butter stuff, for days. But I am not naive not to know about the way to a man's heart ;). So my first visit to the the Asian store ensured that I buy "Chicken Masala' and mustard oil.

The Indian style chicken curry is really easy to make and great to eat if you want  a touch of home abroad. Marinate the chicken with Yoghurt (mild variety), salt, turmeric, chicken masala, onion paste and one green chilly if you want the spice count to be high, for 3-4 hours. While cooking add mustard oil in the pan and fry some diced onions, mix it with ginger garlic paste, chillies and add a bit of salt and turmeric again. You can make the chicken curry more bong by adding potatoes (who can forget our fascination with potatoes!) in the curry. But make sure the potateos are well cooked and edible. My suggestion- fry the potatoes a little bit in the beginning. Take them out of the pan and in the same oil fry the onions and the rest. After the onion in the pan turns softer, add the potatoes and mix it well with the mix. After stirring for 2-3 minutes, add the marinated chicken along with the yoghurt mix. Mix the ingredient properly for around 5 minute and then add sufficient water for cooking. Cover the pan with a lid and let it cook for some 10 to 15 minutes. You can add a little bit of that Kashmiri lal spice for the colour.

Half and hour and your tasty chicken curry is ready! Eat it with Rice or Roti as your prefer.

I am sorry I do not have a photograph as this not a dedicated food blog, but all I want to say is, this curry can actually taster super and make you feel good :)

(To be continued....)

Nirobotar oblivion!

There was time when the deepest expressions of my existence found oblivion through my words. there was a time when I used to write reams. Writing was my only purgasion!

I was young, fluid and dreamy eyed.

I am little older, worldly wise and lot less dreamy eyed these days.


And the words seem to have left me for an oblivion of their own!

I do not know what to say.

"Amar swopno shotti swechchachar, amr swopno dekhar odhikar
Amar opolok nishkriti, amar doridro oboshor
amar oporinoto nityosukh, amar noirbyaktik chitkar...

kotha nei, golpo nei, ashwash nei..
ey ek odbhut swojonharano!!

amake kore tolo bangmoy"

Sudden!

This is not a post. However, I felt that this was probably the best way to pay a tribute to him.

I will not pretend and say that I had not criticised him. I had, in fact, conveyed often that he was overdoing things. He was losing the subtlety he was known for.

May be I am still not mature enough to understand the way he perceoived a last few of his works.

But this is not about that.

I never knew him personally, though we shared very similar backgrounds...attended the same school, (I attended a few decades later), lived in the same neighbourhood...and some how, his way of portrayal of women in cinema..or generally the art- moulded my understanding...at a very very impressionable age.

He was many things more to me. I rediscovered 'Utsob', 'Titli', 'Unishe April' or 'Dosar' during lonely summer afternoons in my university hostel. Youtube brought me closer to the perception of womanhood. Suchitra Bhattacharya, Ashapurna Debi, Bani Basu and him. Probably Aparna Sen also. And I will not sound stupid to overlook Tagore here.

Do I sound arty? Do I sound 'making it up'? I might. I do not care. Because somehow, we had all learned to admire his way for standing up for things.

And to tell you the truth, while I started blogging or whatever you call it a few years back, my pseudonym (blogger id? pseudonym is for heavyweights!) was a gift from his pen. One of his creations which is poignant that more than one ways today. Thank you!

"Meghpeon er bag er bhitor monkharap er dista/ Mon kharap holey kuasha hoy, byakul holey Tista"

I was really looking forward to "Satyanweshi".

I knew that your portrayal would not be of a just another detective story...we all remember "Shubho Mohorot".

Bhalo Thakben!


(I have perceived that the blogosphere is cluttered with many tributes after somebody remarkable dies. I personally do not like it. However, I decided to write this one...probably Meghpeon's best way to say thank you!)

টুকরো ছবি

টুকরো ছবি

১

“তাহলে প্রিয়গোপাল বিষয়ী থেকেই কিনছিস তো বেনারসীটা?”

সেক্টর ফাইভ লাগোয়া সিসিডী তে বসে দুই বান্ধবির কথোপকথন তা অনেকক্ষন ধরে শুনছিল অনিন্দ্য। পথচলতি পিএনপিসি, আসছে অগ্রহায়ণে বিয়ের শপিং, সোনার বাজার দরের ওঠানামা, কোন বান্ধবী সবছেয়ে জম্পেশ বর পাকড়াও করেছে থেকে কোথায় হানিমুনে যাওয়া যায়- সবই সেই আলচোনার অংশ। কাছাকাছি কোন বহুজাতিক তথ্যপ্রযুক্তি সংস্থার কর্মী দুজনেই সেটা ট্যাশপনা দেখলেই বোঝা জায়। সদ্য চাকুরিতে ঢুকেছে বোধহয়, এখনও দাস্বত্বের রঙিন স্বপ্নের ঘোর লেগে আছে কথাবার্তায় বোঝা যায়।   

অনেক ক্ষন ধরেই অদের কথায় আড়ি পাতছিল অনিন্দ্য। মাঝে মাঝে করে সে এরকম। কিছুটা একঘেয়েমি কাটানোর জন্য শুরু করেছিল অভ্যেস টা।।এখন অনেক টাই নেশা হয়ে দাঁড়িয়েছে। প্রথম প্রথম যখন বর্ধমানের বাড়ি ছেড়া কলকাতায় পড়তে এল, যাদবপুরের কাছেই একটা মেসবাড়ি ভাড়া করে থাকতো তারা কয়েকজন বন্ধু মিলে। তখন এত একঘেয়েমি ছিল না জীবনটায়...এই শহরটাকে এতটা অপরিচিত কিউবিকল সর্বস্বও মনে হত না। এখন তার কাছে বড়সর মাপের একটা চাকরী আছে। পরিচিতের পরিধি টা অনেক বেরেছে কিন্তু বন্ধুর সংখ্যা ক্রম হ্রাস্যমান। তাদের কেউ কেউ চলে গেছে গুড়্গাওন, কেউ মুম্বাই...কেউ বা সুদূর বিদেশ। কেউ কেউ হয়তো আছে এখনও এই শহরে কিন্তু সবাই প্রচন্ড ব্যস্ত।

খবরে কাগজে কলকাতার সম্বন্ধে মাঝেই যারা ভিক্টোরিয়ার ছবি লাগিয়ে এক্তা আদ্যন্ত কর্ম বিমুখ শহরের ছবি তৈরি করেয় তাদের সাথে দেখা করা অনিন্দ্যর মাঝে মাঝে এই ডেডলাইন মুখর দ্বীপের একটা গাইডেড ট্যুর দিতে ইচ্ছে করে।

মেয়ে দুটো উঠবে উঠবে করছে। ঘড়ির দিকে তাকালো অনিন্দ্য। ঈশ! আজ অনেক দেরী হয়ে গেল। প্রত্যেকদিনের আধন্টার অবসর কখন যে দেড় ঘন্টা অতিক্রম করেছে খেয়াল ই নেই তার।

মেয়ে দুটো বেশ। রোজকার আশেপাশের টেবিলের প্রোমোশন, বসের গসিপ এর থেকে একটা অন্যরকম আলোচোনা উপহার দিল তাকে। অনিন্দ্য কুবি নয়।।নয়ত কিছু লিখতো হয়ত। একবার ভাব্ল আলাপ করবে ওদের সাথে।।কিন্তু পর মুহূর্তেই ভাবল কি বলবে তারপর? তাদের কথায় আড়িপাততে প্রায় মাঝবয়সি অনিন্দ্য রায়ের ভাল লেগেছে?

মেয়েগুলো হয়তো তার পদমর্যাদার কদর করে “ঠিক আছে” গোছের উত্তর দেবে হাসিমুখে। এরকম স্তাবকতায় সে অভ্যস্ত। হয়তো বা পরে সে সদ্য বিবাহবিচ্ছিন্ন  শুনে তার গায়েপড়ে আলাপ টাকে “আলুর দোষ” বলবে। এ এক আচ্ছা মুশকিল। আগে জনমত নির্বিশেষে অফিসের সবার সাথে আড্ডা মারত অনিন্দ্য। পরে দেখল নতুন জয়েন করা কিছু মেয়ে একটু বেশীই কদর করছে তার পথচলতি ছবি আঁকার। কয়েকজন আবার বলতে আরম্ভ করল সে নাকি বিশাল ফ্লারট।

মাঝখান থেকে তার অফিসের লাগোয়া কফিশপ টায় যাওয়াই বন্ধ করে দিল সে। বেশী মেলামেশাও। এখন এখানে আসে সে। বেশী দূরে না, আবার কাছেও না। হাটাপথে মিনিট দশেক।

প্রত্যেকদিনের আধঘন্টার অবসর।

বিলটা মিটিয়ে বেড়িয়ে গেল অনিন্দ্য। অতিলোভ করে সোম থেকে শুক্রর এই আধঘন্টা টা হারাতে পারবে না সে। এই একঘেয়েমি, কর্মব্যস্ততার শহরে তো একেবারেই না।

২

“দেখো এই বাড়ির মেনটেনেন্সের যা খরচ তা আমাদের পক্ষে চালানো অসম্ভব বৌদি। বেকার সেন্টিমেন্টাল না হয়ে আমার প্রস্তাব টা ভেবে দেখো। আমাদের বাড়ির দারুন লোকেশন টা দেখেই কিন্তু মিঃ মুরারকা বাজার চলতি দরের থেকে অনেকটায় বেশী অফার দিচ্ছেন।”

একনাগারে নিজের কৌশিকের কথাগুল শুনছিল কাজরী। দেশপ্রিয় পার্কের বাসিন্দা, এই একদা বিত্তবান সেনগুপ্ত পরিবারের বধূ হয়ে যখন কাজরীর এই বাড়িতে প্রবেশ তখন কৌশিক সদ্য কলেজে ঢকেছে। মনে আছে ওর বিয়েটা কায়স্থ বাড়ির মেয়ে পরমার সাথে ঠিক করার পেছনে কাজরীর ভূমিকা অনেকটাই।

আর আজ সেই কৌশিক ই কিনা একেবারে গারজিয়ানের ঢঙে তাকে আদেশ করছে এই বাড়িটা বিক্রি করে দিতে সম্মত হতে। আদেশ ঠিক নয়, তবে হ্যা, যবে থেকে তার বৈধব্য সত্ত্বা তাকে গ্রাস করেছে, সে লক্ষ্য করেছে এ বাড়ির সবাই তার সব সিদ্ধান্তে নিজেদের অগ্রাধিকার দেখাতে চেয়েছে। তা সে তার মেয়ে টুয়া কি নিয়ে পড়বেই হোক বা তার নিজের কতটা অর্থসাহায্য চাই তা নিয়েই হোক।

টুয়ার বাবা মারা যাওয়ার পর কাজরীর পাশে সবাই এসে দাড়াতে চেয়েছিল। একদিক দিয়ে তো ভালই। সবাই বলল “বাবা! আজকাল কার দিনেও এরকম দেখা যায় নাকি?”। কাজরীর তো খুশী হওারি কথা।

কিন্তু কোথাও যেন তার এই মহানুভবতার পেছনে একটা করুনার গন্ধ লেগেছিল। সারাজীবন যা প্রত্যাখান করে এসেছে কাজরী। সেইবার সবার সামনে একবার বলেছিল যে সে একটা চাকরীর চেষ্টা করবে ভাবছে...ওমনি সবাই রে রে করে উঠেছিল। ছোট ননদ বুকাই তো বলেই ফেলল- “ছি! বৌদি, এরকম বলতে পারলে তুমি? আমরা কি তোমার পর?”

“বৌদি ভেবে দেখ কিন্তু কথাটা”

কৌশিকের কথায় আবার সম্বিত ফিরল কাজরীর।

“হ্যা, ভাবছি।।কবের মধ্যে জানাতে হবে বললে?”

“যত তাড়াতাড়ি সম্ভব” চাটা শেষ করচে করচে বলল কৌশিক “আসলে ডিলটা এত ভাল পাচ্ছি, বুঝতেই পারছো তো। ভয় লাগছে যে দেরি হয়ে গেলে হাতছাড়া না হয়ে জায়”

“হ্যা সে তো ঠিকি। আসলে তোমায় সেদিন ও তো বললাম না...তোমার দাদার এত স্মৃতি এই বাড়িতে...তাই ঠিক...” আমতা আমতা করে বলল আবার কাজরী।

“আহ! দাদার স্মৃতি কি একার তোমার বৌদি? এ বাড়িতে আমার শৈশব কেটেছে। বাবা মার স্মৃতি আছে...এই পাড়া...এখানে ডাংগুলি খেলেয় বড় হলাম...।সেই বাড়ি ভেঙে একটা বাহারি শপিং মল হয়ে যাবে, আমাদের ঠাকুরদালান কৌলিন্য হারিয়ে সবার কাছে আরেকটা বিনোদনের জায়গা হয়ে যাবে, সেটা কি আমার ভাল লাগছে বৌদি? তবে একগুয়ে হয়ে তো লাভ নেই......এই বাড়ির খরচ বা মেনটেন করা আমাদের আর পোশাবে না। যা দিনকাল দাড়াচ্ছে, আমাদের কতটুকুনি বা পুঁজি বলোতো?”

“হু!”

“তাছাড়া, এমন কিছু বাজে হচ্ছে না... গড়িয়ার কাছে মিঃ মুরারকার যে নতুন আবাসন তৈরি হচ্ছে তাতে নতুন ফ্ল্যাট, আর বেশ অনেক টাই টাকা। তোমারো তো ভবিষ্যৎ আছে একটা বৌদি...টুয়ার বিয়ে আছে...আর আমরা তো কাছেই থাকব সবাই। একি কমপ্লেক্সে। একদম ঝা চক চকে সবকিছু। আজকাল যেরকম হয় সব। আমাই একদিন দেখে এসেছি...ইয়া বড় বড় ৬ টা টাওয়ার। দেখবে টুয়ার দারুন লাগবে।”

“হ্যা...তবে গড়িয়া এখান থেকে বেশি দূর হয়ে যাবে না?”

“আরে গড়িয়া তো এখন শহরের মধ্যেই বলে... আমরাই যা ভাবি এরকম। টুয়া র ও কলেজ কাছে হয়ে যাবে অনেক। বেশী ভেবো না আর...আমি পরশূ আসব আবার ফাইনাল শুনতে। টুয়ার সাথে কথা বলে রেখোখন।”

বেরোবে বলে তৈরি হল কৌশিক।

“আচ্ছা, আমরা ছাড়াও তো আর বাকি অংশিদার আছে তাদের কি মতামত?”

“আরে সবাই রাজি...এতোভাল অফার টা...নন্তুদারা তো ক্যালিফোর্নিয়া থেকে আমায় পাওয়ার অফ এটর্নি দিয়ে দিয়েছে। ওরা কমপ্লেক্সের ফ্ল্যাট টা নিয়ে খুবি খুশি। নন্তুদা না কি এরমি একটা প্রোপার্টি তে ইনভেস্ট করতে চাইছিল। আর বাকি বোনেরাও যা ক্যাশ পাচ্ছে তাতেয় খুশি।”

“ওঃ তাই...ভালো তো”

“হু! ডিল টা হয়ে জাক...তুমিও আমায় ধন্যবাদ দেবে দেখো...আসি তাহলে...পরশু ফাইনাল করে রেখ সবকিছু...তুমি হ্যা বলার পর রাজ্যের কাজ আছে।।জমি বাড়ির ব্যাপার তো”

কৌশিক চলে যাওয়ার পর তার অংশের সুদর দরজাটা বন্ধ করে দিল কাজরী। টুয়া কলাজ থেকে ফিরতে এখন অনেক দেরী। এখন তার অখন্ড অবসর। অনান্য দিন এই সময় টুকুর দিকে মুখিয়ে থাকে কাজরী। গান শোনে। শখের কবিতা লেখে, বই পড়ে। টুয়ার বাবার স্মৃতি চারনা করে মাঝে মাঝে হয়ত।।কিন্তু আজকাল খুবি কম হয় সেগুলও।।হয়ত অভ্যেস। টুয়ার যখন চার বছর বয়শ তখন হারিয়েছে মানুষ টাকে। আজ টুয়াও নয় নয় করে ২০ তে পা দিয়েছে প্রায় সাড়ে চার মাস।

কিন্তু কি আশ্ছরজ আজ তার আর কিছু ভাল লাগছে না...সমানে টানছে ওই সামনের গাড়ি বারান্দাটা। কি জানি কি পিছুটান থেকে সেখানে গিয়ে দাঁড়ালো কাজরী। আর মুহূর্তে তের বয়শ কমেয় গেল প্রায় ২২ টা বছর। জীবন সংগ্রামে ক্লান্ত বিধ্বস্ত এক প্রৌড়া কাজরী নয়...সে তখন সদ্য একুশের পরশ মাখে লাল শাড়ি আর শাখা পলার সাজে মায়াবি এক কাজরী। তখন এ বাড়িটায় এক্সাথেয় হাড়ি চরতো প্রায় ৪০ জন লোকের। সদ্যবিবাহিতরা আজ যে স্পেস পেয়ে অভ্যস্ত, তার কিছুই ছিল না তাদের জীবনে। রাত ১১ টা পর্যন্ত তাদের শোবার ঘরে তখন আসর জমাতো একপাল ননদ দেওর রা।

কিন্তু ভাগ্যিস ছিল না...নয়ত কি আর ২২ বছর পর এক দুপুরে তার মনে পড়তো যে এই গাড়ি বারান্দা তে বসেই একদিন মাঝরাতে তাকে তাদের দাম্পত্য জীবনের প্রথম আদরের আশ্লেষে জড়িয়ে ধরেছিল ধ্রিতিমান...স্মৃতির চিলেকোঠায় যার নাম কাজরীর জীবনে টুয়ার বাবা হিসেবেই থেকে গেছে।

বাড়িটা হয়ত ভেঙে জাবে...অন্যসবাইয়ের মতো কাজরীর ও হয়ত মেনে নেওয়া ছাড়া রাস্তা থাকবে না..কিন্ত এই স্মৃতির অবসর টুকু কি তার গড়িয়ায় তৈরি হওয়া দু কামড়ার ফ্ল্যাট দিতে পারবে?

Goynar Baksho-Why it is refreshingly new!

I watched Goynar Baksho today. Obviously! it's poila boishakh tomorrow and since the urban bengali's 'bangaliana' is tested by allegiance to two things nowadays- 'durga pujo' and 'poila boishakh'..I could not resist catching the 'noboborsho' release with my family. Of course the trappings of the corporate life has made the bhodrolok celebrate new year a day earlier on Sunday since Monday will again be a busy day with impending client calls and meetings :)

These days Bengali films are nicely publicised and packaged. Goynar Baksho was no different. That coupled with the assurance of an Aparna Sen's finesse was enough to guarantee the connoisseur Bengali a nice evening out. Needless to say, I was not completely disappointed.
'Not completely' since I went with my mom, dad, sister and my husband and the cumulative verdict was different. What I admire about every Sen movie till date is her adept portrayal of a subtle liberal/feminist approach which is sometimes unimaginable in the situations depicted. Goynar Baksho is no different. The story chronicles the journey of three generation of women of a family which traces its roots in erstwhile 'purbobongo'. Set in the time when India had just gained her independence, this erstwhile wealthy landlord family from Faridpur had to transfer base to West Bengal and are shown as still getting accustomed with their now non existent 'aristocratic' habits.

 

Moushumi Chatterjee portrays the role of a child widow who vehemently guards her box of jewels...even after her death. She is worried about the fate her '500 vori' jewel and entrusts the newly wed Konkona SenSharma with the responsibility of protecting her jewels. But she is not the benevolent image of the elderly 'Pishima' we get to see in the movies. Moushumi, as the abusive, venom spewing, strict taskmaster 'pishima' is a revelation. And that 'bangal' accent...this movie makes me realise that overtly beautiful women have often remain hugely underused in our cinema.

She threatens Konkona with dire consequences if she even thinks of touching her jewellery..including killing her husband. And what follows is mayhem. Hillarious picture sequences and characterisations make the first half an enjoyable watch.

The second half is the part where Sen leaves er mark again...albeit with the hilarity this movie is conceived with. Konkona, as a first generation entrepreneur..probably the first of the working women of our society sends a message and so does Pishima. 'Pishima's' words of wisdom  about all that thoughts we have about sin, lust, benevolence is just a sham- is the high point of the movie. 'First hand experience' as she puts it. And there comes the fiery expression of suppressed sexuality and celebration of womenhood. Sen has a knack of portraying feminist discourses in the relationships you least expect. Be it the timid housewife in 'Paroma' or the mother in law and daughter in law relationship in 'Paromitar Ekdin'...she finds the bond of being a women, a reason to celebrate.

The initial portrayal of Moushumi's character makes you least expectant of the bond that a ghost will share with her daughter in law...but even more surprising is her words of encouragement for Konkona to pursue a love affair and not be trapped in a marriage where her husband can have a mistress but she cannot afford to have a male companion. The subtlety with which she points out the intellectual difference that she has with her husband, or her openness of Srabanti's character smoking when the film shifts base in the 70's is well scripted and portrayed.

To think that a women who belonged somewhere in 1920's could have a mind which thinks and how, is definitely encouraging for a society which still tells it's women to dress up properly or not to wear that short dress when you go clubbing. My juniors have recently faced the wrath of moral policing in Hyderabad and that has been the shoddiest of the shows ever. But Goynar Baksho gives me faith.

There are a lot more layers to the story which needs to be discussed, but I thought of writing this post to jot down these points since while coming out of the theatre my father expressed his disappointment and so did my mother. They expected the apparently carefree mood of the first half to continue. I disagreed. Thank you Sen for making this one.....because we need more of pishimas in our lives and in the society where we currently live in.

Go and watch. My husband does not watch many Bengali movies. But he for one enjoyed the movie, may not to the fullest but glad that he appreciated the subtext of characterisations. There lies the success of the storyteller. Shirshendu Babu, I have not read the original story..but after the portrayal, I will surely do so :)

Shubho Noboborsho :)

Once upon a time!

There was a time in all our lives when we were naive. And young....and stupid!

My mother often told me about the rose tinted glasses that we often wore while seeing the world around us when we are young. Don't know about the mushy red rose or the humble white one, but I do wear hose tinted glasses..

I still 'do' :)

I am known as the pretty 'romantic' types...and that's where the significance of the opening line of this story finds significance. Once upon a time, I was naive and very, very stupid! I believed a lot of people. I believed one day I could really meet Zaheer Khan and get married to him (!:P).

I once had the hugest crush on one of my teachers who taught the most dreadful subject of my life- Maths!

My next object of fascination was a literary character called "Kabir" from Vikram Seth's "A Suitable Boy". there was a time when I dreamt of being born in 1960's Calcutta. And then changed my plan and thought of exchanging niceties in the unique style of 'Lucknowi tehzeeb'!

There was a time when I thought of studying Literature in college. I also thought of meeting Amit Roy on the celebrated English/CL ledge of JU.


Once upon a time I also that College Street, Coffee House, Madhabilata, Animesh and the ability to write Jhumpa Lahiri were the most desirable things in life (I still do!)

There was time when I thought of my dream man being a poetry writing, typical bong guy... who could seep me off my feet at one go.

I wanted that man to love Phuchka. I wanted that man to love Tagore.


I went to college and some of my aspirations changed. But I still stuck to Tagore. I met great friends. I met someone with whom I could say all the dirty jokes aloud 'Wakao'!

I met a girl who actually had terrible fights with me regarding my bong-fascination!


And they are friends for life.


But in between, I always believed Calcutta is the most romantic city on this earth!

I still do.

I got married. It was quite a crazy idea. My friends could not believe that I would take the leap of faith so soon.

Yes! quite a leap of faith it was....I had been disillusioned. I checked up a few real love stories in between. they don't make them like the 70's style anymore...the ones where the guy or the girl rebelled to be with the partner of his or her choice...sacrificing many things in between...like the way my aunt's or my mother's generation did.

But, since I am a pocketful of contradictions, I still believed in Amit Roy, Kabir and Raj!!!

And Tagore......

To cut a long story short!!! after all this I met Biswadeep Roy.


He did not like Tagore. He read World War II stories, loved Mathematics, was fascinated with world history and economic, finance and all that jargon. He was not a bong if you went by my dictionary till date.

And then I fell love...head over heels type!!

Those rose tinted glasses are here to stay for me...forever....Love can make you do weird things. He listens to Robindroshongeet nowadays and I take a fascination towards his research on gadgets. It's a lot of belief, trust and a little bit of mush!

I am happy that he made me realise that the romantic little girl inside me has not died :) (*Touchwood*)


Have you felt love lately? that very stupid, naive thing to do in life :)

Lyrical journey of a year :)

 Since it's almost that time of the year- Part 1!

I am not so eager to part with my 'newly married' or 'notun bou' tag just now but 'times'- they keep rolling and it's almost that time of the year again. The memories of the butterflies of the impending celebrations and anxiety of the big day are back again....almost a year later......1 whole year since 11 December 2011 when 'we' got hitched! (or rather as Deep puts it- 'phaans gaya')

It's a lovely Saturday morning outside and I was listening to an almost vintage 90's  song "I am very very sorry, tera naam bhul gayi" on TV from the film "Chaand ka Tukda". The song immediately brought back memories of the times when "Superhit Muqabla" was the most eagerly awaited thing in my life. It was also then that I had listened to some of the most remarkable songs of my life. And also college! where I made my Oriya friend listen to Kabir Suman and was introduced to the music that Beatles and Bob Marley made. Not to forget the eternal Kishor Kumar.

I suddenly struck me that a song tells a thousand stories. So why not tell our story the old world style? when we actually exchanged love letters :) (over the internet of course!). Deep, let's make this wonderful milestone a memorable one for us......because this is the beginning of a journey that we will cherish for lifetime(s) to come. Let's make this journey lyrical and magical!

The times when we had heard stories about each other from our parents, wrote long letters, had chat-a-thons :)

When we discovered the common joys over chai (aam panna :P), books, history and life in general.

The pangs of separation! Miles apart...foreign shores....unknown skies....and endless wait.

Dating Days! (brief but memorable)

Dating Days :))

Songs we liked :)

Biswa's expressions during the times we shopped for the wedding :P

Expressions of love :)

obhimaan :)

 

Ragaragi!

Phyach Phyach! :(

 

Maanbhonjon :)

 

Biye :P

  Bibaho poroborti somoy :D

     Honeymoon times! 

Deep's expression nowadays!

 

The story continues.... :) (I don't know if it is a fairytale...but I like it this way :)) And lets promise to remain newly married forever :)

 

For you Deep :)

To say or not to say is the question!

"Have you seen the Taj before?" Amit asked Deboshree while staring at the white monument termed as the symbol of eternal love by everyone alike.
                                                                             I
Amit could never recall being in love. He was not flamboyant, rather shy by nature. His small town upbringing did not give him a chance to be suitably equipped for a lengthy conversation with a lady. Probably this was the first time in 26 years since his birth when he was alone for so long with a lady, the daintily made Deboshree, his newly married wife of 14 days.

Amit's father worked in Jamshedpur. Throughout his childhood days, he was always taught to study hard and be suitable enough to fetch a job in the company which defined the future of iron and steel industry in India and needless to say, Amit was very successful in his endeavour.  He bagged a job in the company as Graduate Trainee after completing his engineering from IIT Kharagpur.

On the other hand Deboshree hailed from the big city that troubled Amit all the time- Calcutta. He visited the city during every school holidays since his grandparents still stayed over there, but the sight of the the monstrous Howrah Bridge made him feel uneasy. The crowds on the streets, the 'phuchka' vendor who served his mother's favourite flour balls with tamarind laced water, the tram ride from his Kalighat home to Dalhousie- every thing reminded him of how his world had the peace and vanity of silence where nobody intruded. He sometimes wondered whether he was a loner...whether he disliked Calcutta. He durely did not because he loved his breakfasts at Flurys and the pending birthday treats from his grandfather at Mocambo. But his heart was set out in the peaceful haven of his Bistupur home.

In fact, Amit was stunned by the opulence and grandeur of Deboshree's Shyambazar home when he first went to see Deboshree. He wondered how she managed to stay in such a big house alone with her parents, whether she would be able to stay in that 3 bedroom company provided accomodation in Jamshedpur. He truly had the luxury of a small custom made garden, but it was no match for Deboshree's house which was at a stone's throw distance from the famous eatery which serve Calcutta's most favourite mutton curry. However, 15 minutes in the drawing room of the Mukherjee household he understood that Deboshree had company, a rather large one including her cousins, uncle an aunts who were rather excited with the prospect of Deboshree getting married off to an engineer.

He was scared, very very scared to meet the Loreto Convent educated girl shortlisted from the bunch of photos by Mr. and Mrs. Banerjee becuase she was pretty, had a degree from Shantiniketan, was apparently well read, cooked, sewed, had a good family lineage and to say the least- could be the ideal companion for their son.

Amit was not a part of this decision making process. He had left the choice on his parents. But he could not deny that there was something in that one photograph of Deboshree that he had seen, that made him agree to make a very short visit to Calcutta in the scorching April heat. The match was finalised soon enough. The families talked, Deboshree was asked to sing by his mother. The customary questions later Amit's mother had asked her whether she would be able to adjust in Jamshedpur, since it would not have all the amenities of  a big city.

Deboshree's 'jethima' (aunt) had replied - "Parbe, Parbe! sob parbe- Of Course! she can, girls can adjust to anything didi.....consider me, when I got married I was just 16 and I did not know how to cook dal even...from there on, I have been cooking every day for this entire family of 34 members. You don't need to worry at all."

Amit had tried to steal a glance at Deboshree, to understand what she would have told in answer to his mother's question but the conversation had by then moved to the ideal marriage dates. A monsoon wedding and the customary "Oshtomongola" (visit to the bride's house after 8 days) later, Amit and Deboshree were off to their honeymoon to Delhi and Agra.

Amit had long planned for this vacation and she had once called up Deboshree on her family's telephone- the only time before their wedding, to ask for her permission. He could overhear the hushed tones of excitement in the background surrounding his call. Even on the day after Oshtomongola, when they were scheduled to catch their train for Delhi from Calcutta, he could feel the palpable excitement in the Mukherjee household for their daughter travelling on a honeymoon vacation.

"Oh! chordi, you are so lucky....he is a man of exquisite taste" Deboshree's cousin Nita had commented.
"Aha! how do you know?" Deboshree replied with a flirting gesture.
"Arrey baba! he is taking you to Delhi and Agra.....imagine you are the first girl from our family to go on a honeymoon.....last year my friend Piyul had got married and she was so prouf that she was going on a trip after marriage.....and that too, she was going to Puri...where everybody goes...but you are going to see the Taj Mahal in Agra...please get us replicas Chordi"
"Okay baba! I will" Amit could well sense the hint of pride in Deboshree's voice when she replied. Amit thought she was happy and that made him happy since he wanted to know about the person that Deboshree was.

"Acha! chordin." Nita had further enquired, "I heard that Amit da would be traveling to America for a training for 3 months...are you also going with him"

"Let's see, it's not decided yet re...but high chances"

Though Amit was eavesdropping into the conversation, he could see Nita's face turn a shade greener with jealousy. Of course! she was a year younger than Deboshree and was yet to complete her graduation. But she was dark and not as well mannered as Deboshree...rather coquettish to say the least, a fact which made her and her parents aware that she would not be as lucky as Deboshree in her quest for the perfect husband.

Amit and Deboshree had talked during the train journey. They had reached Delhi around the noon and she was excited to see the Red Fort from a passing distance on the very first day of their travel. amit had planned to visit Agra on the very next day and stay there for a night. So the very next morning they were off to Agra. Deboshree was initially not happy and wanted to visit the shopping arcade Karolbagh hat she had researched so much about. Amit had to pacify her that they were staying in Delhi for 2 more days while returning back. The conversation had led to breaking of ice between the two and Amit was happy about it. He wanted their visit to the Taj Mahal to be perfect, just the way he had planned.
                                                                               II
"I haven't. You?" Deboshree replied " In fact I have not visited any place other than Puri, Darjeeling and my college in Shantiketan". She giggled with a flirtatious wink in her eyes. Amit tried to concentrate in her eyes. In stead it was the big red bindi on her forehead, the shankha pola, the never ending vermillion streak and her crisp cotton sari that drew her attraction. She was the perfect bangali bou. The way he saw Ma Durga. The moment they entered the Taj, Deboshree was overwhelmed by the gigantic architechtural wonder....her hand quickly sought refuge in Amit's hands...and that very moment he felt happy.

"Yes, I have been here..with a few of my college friends".
"You are so well travelled na Am...err"
"You can call me Amit, I won't mind"
"But I am not supposed to na...after marriage you are not supposed to take you husband's name.....your mother can mind"
"As you wish...but in my college many of my friends had girlfriends and they used to call them by their first names"
"Pagol! they had a a love marriage na!"
Amit laughed. He was scared to tell that his college was reputed to have one of the scariest gender ratios in India...and besides the one or two love stories that he knew never ever matured till the wedding platform. He just wanted to be friendly with Deboshree. Besides he would be travelling to America with her in a few days time...he had read that there even the wives addressed their husbands by their first names.

"You didn't sya where else have you traveled" Deboshree interrupted his chain of thoughts"
"Me? well some parts of Bengal, Darjeeling, Delhi, Agra, Varanasi and Palamau in Bihar...you know Palamau?"
"Palamau's jungle? where Aranyer Dinratri* was shot?"
"Yes! have you seen the movie?"
"Of Course! it released 2 years back na?"
"Yes! a few of my friends...we were all very influenced an wanted to make a trip to Palamau"
"So very exciting.....even I want to go there"
"We may..."

The conversation was interrupted by a photographer who wanted to convince the honeymoon couple to take a picture in front of the Taj Mahal. Deboshree was eager and Amit had to relent. He was keen...he has been advised to tell the three golden words to Deboshree in front of the Taj Mahal..the perfect romantic setting by his friend Shyamal. His trip to Taj Mahal was planned accordingly.

"Ei...come here...let's go in....acha! can we see the original sones that were fitted inside or have they already been lotted away by the English before leaving the country." Deboshree asked. She talked a lot. Amit was not used to the sounds of lady's constant giggle and chatter. But here he was admiring a girl who had the child like char intact inside her crisp red cotton sari. And the bindi which made him fall in love with her again. Deboshree stole shy glances the very first time they had met in the drawing room of her Shyambazar home. She was too scared to look at Amit during their "Shubho drishti", a ritual were the bride and groom were supposed to look in to each other eyes's before being tied up within the knots of holy matrimony...but here she was free, thousands of kilometres away from the prying eyes of her cousins, her parents, her newly found strict mother in law....she was herself, the Deboshree Amit wanted to know. But Amit wanted to tell her that she looked extremely beautiful that day.

He could not. He was tongue tied.

The guide was explaining the history of Taj Mahal while they stood with the Yamuna river at their back. A few minutes later they were instructed to be back in the tourist bus after 20 minutes.

Image Courtesy:  http://rajivawijesinha.files.wordpress.com/2010/08/taj-mahal.jpg

Amit was busy wondering at what must have struck Shahjahan to build a mausoleum so huge, only to commemorate some body's death. and the poetic injustice that surrounded the walls of the Taj....a symbol of love built over the agony of so many..their pain and humiliation. He was lost for aminute when his blood rushed up to his cheek turning it a few shades red. Deboshree had just done the unthinkable. In the few moments that he had been lost, Deboshree had managed to whisper "Aami tomake bhalobash" (I love you) in his ears.

                                                                               III

Today is the 41st wedding anniversary of Amit and Deboshree and she still maintains that the moment which defined a lifetime of their relationship was absolutely spontaneous. Amit had tried to extract the secret about how many times had she carefully planned to say the golden words in front of the world's most romantic monument, but the answer had always remained the same.

*Aranyer Dinratri ( Days and Nights in the forest) is a Bengali film released in 1970 and directed by Satyajit Ray.


[This story is set in the mid 1970's when the world was a far more romantic place to live in, far removed from the cacophony of cell phones and social media websites (well! a necessary evil)]

Tales of the Timeless city- Part 1

That my love affair with Calcutta grows every passing day is a layman's guess. I love the city, in its every possible hue and tinge possible. So when the first blush of rain kisses the skies of my new Tollygunge home, I love the fact that I am lucky to be here.

 There have been umpteenth attempts to chronicle the life and times of the city on numerous occasions before. I will be humble enough to not compare them with my choice of stories. But as they say..every Calcuttan is born with words they want to share with the world...I am no different. So what stories does this city tell when you first meet her in an unknown landscapes.....the portraits we term as the 'North Calcutta gullies'.

(Photo credit: http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/2/2a/Kolkata_Shyambazar_Panchmatha.jpg)

I feel ashamed to acknowledge the fact that I had never witnessed North Calcutta in her full glory before. The sounds and sights of that part of the city which witnessed the historically accounted 'Babu culture' at its crowning glory. I feel ashamed that I discovered the hawkers of Hatibagan Bazaar so late. All my life I had been this pucca well bred South Calcuttan who could never outgrow her posh neighbourhood. My visits to the Northern parts of the city were restricted to admiring its museum like atmosphere. The 'Mohunbagan Row' near Shyambazar reminded me that how much of this city is still enamoured by football and the ghoti bangal divide...but it was only recently I discovered the legacy of the fight when I came across a hoarding of 'Telengabagn sarbojonin' painted in 'sobuj maroon' (green and maroon) colours. It made me realise that Calcutta is not just called a city for everyone by fluke. It has something for everyone. While I could not stop laughing at the rival colours, it made me realise that it is also a walk through a time warp. The city which loves to have its ilish-chingri debates on their iPads. Whoever told that Calcutta is a city of the past should think again. Yes! we love to preserve our privilege, but there is no harm in that....why should there be if we love to talk about our 'Culture'..since we have one.....then why not flaunt it. And we do it far more subtly than other. But the presumption that goes with it- we cannot accept change....a newer wave, is horribly wrong. We are a city who love to dance on the beats of the dhaak during Durga Pujo at Maddox square...but we also love to listen to the bets of the music at Someplace else. Yes! we are a city who can successfully balance the both. We love food. We love to try everything new.....so in case we try out Italian at the newest and the costliest place in town (and don't forget to let the world know about it ala FB check in app)...we never fail to appreciate the Kobiraji cutlets and the biriyani from Arsalan. It's a huge crime if you don't.  Calcuttans are a happy bunch...because we live to tell stories of our joys, dreams, heartbreaks and pining(s). The pining for the city of love when they are away.....you can never get enough of the city when you are our.... so when the page on FB (Kolkata Tips) rationalises a meme saying something to the effect that when you are in here you curse the city...but when you are out...you long to be here.....they are actually true. You miss the city most when you are away. That's when you realise how much you love the gorgeous greens of the Golf club road, the pestering heat and the newly turned Bonga localised Kolkata metro. Its everywhere. Ask me!

People termed me a fool when I left my big fat pay cheque and whims of a corporate life at Hyderabad last year. They warned me that Calcutta will not provide me enough of opportunities to explore. But did it really matter? What is an opportunity if you cannot share it with your loved ones? May be that is how I look at life and I longed to be back here....the only place in this whole wide world that I call 'home'.

And I am happy I stood by my decision....even happier because Deep saw my point and supported me throughout. It took time, but Calcutta gave me an opportunity to explore in my career which I would have probably not got if I had decided to stay somewhere else..somewhere I don't belong. I always had this dream of calling the shots..and I think I am getting there. And I love the fact that it hugely helps my bank balance too. I really want to make this perception clear that myths like money is less in Calcutta is hugely overdone. You really want to be exploited in the corporate world...bingo! they will give it to you anywhere...Calcutta to Colorado. Why blame this city only?

(To be continued)

Shanghai- It really makes you think!

The joys of weekend is back in my life since I decided to take another plunge back to corporate life and it has been a nice experience so far. I will not deny that the amount of money, not obscene but the decent amount in Calcutta, that they are paying me has been a deciding factor. I am still not sure about how can I keep my promise to myself about taking up writing seriously going (and my blog bears testimony for it), but will probably never stop loving it enough.
So, enough of chit chat over, let's come to what is more relevant. And that is Shanghai! what a movie! probably the best after Kahaani this year. In fact, we should feel lucky to be part of a year which gave you gems like Kahaani and Shanghai, albeit with Bong boys and their sentiments written all over them.

Shanghai is special, Shanghai is close t my heart because it touched a chord. Back in college I had this favourite Professor of mine called Prof. Amita Dhanda. I remember doing a jurisprudence project on "Dev D"  for her. Wish I could do the same theroisation for Shanghai for her class. I so miss NALSAR and the wonderful course readings we had. Nietzsche, Nussbaum and Tagore in a melting pot. Ah! life.

And before I am overtaken by nostalgia, I just want to let everyone know that go and watch Shanghai- a must watch for the very underrated and subtle performances. For Abhay Deol who never fails to surprise us. A Jat speaking in that immaculate south indiaised hindi accent. And he is a dream of an IAS officer as Krishnan. For Emraan Hashmi because this is undoubtedly his career best performance till date. As a local ruffian he never fails to surprise you. You can never relate to his serial kisser image. For Kalki Koechlin, and thank you anurag Kashyap for discovering her( and making her an integral part of your life). Kalki's enraged performance engulfs you. However, her roles are now becoming a tad bit repetitive. For the supporting cast who makes Bharatnagar special. And for the none other than Prosenjit Chatterjee's Dr. Ahmedi. The very dapper Dr. Ahemdi is something you will cherish through out the movie even though his screen time is limited.

And thank you Farooq Sheikh. I seriously miss you on screen. That we had something going on since the day I saw Chashme Buddoor on television or heard a portion of the recital of 'Tumhari Amrita', is a different story altogether. Something that Deep will be utterly jealous of maybe ;)

Shanghai shakes you up. It stays all over your mind long after you have left the theatre. May be because it stands for a cause I find my self deeply attached to- "Kiski desh? Kiski pragati?" A question which gets lost in all the rat race that we are in today and in between all the probabilities of a better lifestyle. Probably the water that costs you Rs.35 per glass :) Shanghai is based on a Greek novel, but Dibabkar Banerjee makes it relatable...and in every aspect.The irony is I watched Shanghai seated in a plush multiplex where the irony gets lost in the overpriced coke glass that you buy for yourself during the movie. But I sincerely hope the portrayal and the idea behind Shanghai doesn't remain solely limited within the arty farty multiplex classes. Because its something which we need to answer now...soon! An answer which we face every day...my state faced it a few years back. And it has been a constant struggle since then. What is development? what actually? Can that plush house in the neatest corner of the city compensate for real smiles? Or do smiles generate otherwise. Think! because we nowadays rarely do so. Shanghai is disturbing that ways. It makes you think.

"Bharat mata ki jai"