It's been quite long and the blogosphere looks so different now. Read up an old letter-("purono chithi" kind of feeling) posted by a fellow blogger. Feels good and feels great.
Actually nostalgia is a necessary evil (?). you are bound to be bitten by the bug. Just like the streets of North Calcutta and that tram ride through Hatibagan and Shyambazar did to me. I have never been there but felt like I belonged there. And that Red house..near Shyambazar I suppose. It was like "I want to buy that garibarandawala bari". Yes! I have a fascination for them....old, garibarandawala houses.

And there is the Academy, Nanadan chottor. Catching up with old school friends. Phuchka or just lazing around like St. Paul's Cathedral. The city throws up unknown hues you thought you had long forgotten.


This sounds like cliche' but I have no other option other than quoting a wordsmith of our times- "Ei shohor janey amar prothom sobkichu/ Palatey  chaayi joto shey aashey amar peechu peechu"

(I 'think' am not murdering the lyrics. Actually! am in love. With this city- all over again)

Landscapes.

Home is always comforting. I haven't seen the face of my blog for some weeks now. Haven't caught upon whjat my fellow bloggers are writing or tweeting about but all these seem so far off when you are sorrounded by people you love. This break was most needed indeed. But am making full use of it. Shopped for Bangla books. And it was fulfilling. Thankfully can eradicate my "bhishon purono" flaw being an avid "bangla sahityagrohi" about not reading Ashapurna Devi's works. Yes! I have laid my hands on the complete trilogy of Prothom Protisruti, Subornolota and Bokul Kotha. Bought my favourite Suchitra Bhattacharya's latest too. Picked up a copy of the translation of Ruswa's Umrao Jaan Ada from the Delhi airport. So quite have my hands full now along with my internship. And oh yes! the food....Kochur shaak, kochu bata, chingri malaikaari....When it comes to food am just neutral on the ghoti-bangaal divide.

Life is fulfilling now.

Tweeted and lost.

I am pretty hooked to twitter these days. Off course! who isn't. I mean the God(s) himself is there. He joined yesterday and already has a following of more than 1,55,000 and counting. And the other God finds time in between shooting for Ra.1 to post perky tweets about life in general. Needless to say given his sense of humour they are always a pleasure to read.
So what did twitter do to revolutionise social networking which previously it's predecessors like orkut and facebook failed to do? Well! twitter has done away with the celebrities being from a different planet concept completely. Now you can have a sneak peek in to their lives and more. You can have ministers thrown out. The cricket baron being shown the door- all that and more happening on twitter.
It began as a platform where you shared as much you wanted to share. So it worked out fine with all. But there were some like the sex bomb from India hissing! her way on twitter or the dimpled darling shaking off her image of being everything bubbly to being a spokesperson on issues of serious consideration(?). so who gets the next jhappi? :P. There were also those reticent ones with brilliant sense of humour who tweet once in a while but when they do they make you go roflmao.
And then there are bores like the uptight journalist who tweets about integrity in journalism and why kasab's trial shouldn't be converted in to a media trial while her own channel telecasts minute by minute update of it. Sure! we haven't forgotten Kargil, but we haven't forgotten the hyperventilation in front of Taj either.
And there are others who speak sense and make sense and reverse.The not so known ones. They are the celeb category no.2 with a large number of followers.
But in between all these you get to know too much. Information that don't bother you.But you still bite the bait. Why? because we are quite crazy about celeb watching. So when this evening I was checking out the twitter page of young, suave bengali film actress who was having a conversation with a leading film producing company's head honcho about they never offering her anything, I felt bitter. Come on! think about it how many times have you actually imagined the scene happening in front of your eyes where Shabana Azmi is begging Satyajit Ray to cast her in some of his work in bengali. As the legend goes, she wasn't satisfied that very small share of the arclight in Shatranj ki Khiladi under Ray's tutelage and Ray wouldn't agree because her Bengali was not good. True, we have seen Shabana nostalgically reminiscing about that moment and her "Manik Da" refusing on the grounds of her poor bengali on TV or read about it in print. But there's the charm of it. It didn't happen in front of your eyes leaving nothing to your imagination.
It's often told that every incident leads to a story. So when Mrinal Sen's office regularly used to get a call from a top Bombay actress' office, everyone imagined it to be Madame Rekha. But the Sen-Rekha combo never worked out. There was silence from both the sides. Nobody confirmed or denied. But we can still have one page of dedicated fan story on this in Anandalok (A bengali film magazine). What happens in this case? there is nothing left to your imagination.

Dear Twitter as much as you have fulfilled our aspirations of celeb watching/stalking, you have killed the romance of imagining and weaving out our stories about them. Day after day. Everyday.

Confessions of the predominantly Calcuttan mind.

So there its is. Sunday afternoon and I had nothing much to do. Actually a lot to do, but didn't feel like. so I decided to watch TV in the common room. No one was around so I had the complete liberty to surf and change the channels at my will. I will vouch for the fact that the tv remote in my hand makes me feel liberated and anybody who has stayed in hostel will agree with me. It was then that I suddenly realised that I have been watching a shabby bengali television channel called Etv Bangla (the only one available here without a dish tv or other snazzy stuff) for the past fifteen minutes. I mean that was disastrous by my standards. I have forgotten the number of times I have hated my mom for putting on that channel or something else like that. They really have some sidey shows on and I hate them. you could never expected me to watch etv bangal on a sunday afternoon. But that was then. some 4 years ago when I stayed at home and was not taunted at the regular social dos on being converted to a 'probashi', an allegation which I vehemently deny till date. 

But then again what made me actually watch that channel for so long? The long and short of it was that I was missing home and the bengali chitchat and blabber around me. More so everything Calcuttan. Yes! it was listing out some show to be staged by a theatre group in rabindra sadan on a particular date. And I was listening to it. Am not an aantel and I speak to my family some 5 times a day on phone and I have amazing friends from other parts of the country. But it was just another time that made me feel what i miss the most. A voice shouting on the phone with the background score of honking horns and "Garia, Garia" nagging from the side - "Paushali kalke amra menokar smane theek 11.30 tay meet korbo. jodi deri korechish chotolok tahole toke na niyei hall ey dhukey porbo kintu"

Or may be like some one singing "ek tajmahal gorbo hridoye tomar" in the last class during SPHS days and dedicating it to... (erm) and then a favourite teacher of mine coming from the background (who was till now eavesdropping) and saying- "Porashunota koro theekmoto."

All these happens. Still. I mean I will be in last year of college next semester and these keeps on happening especially with my batch. But the language and the tinkle of it. It's "Legen-wait for it-dary". Or may be its all about romanticising things.

So should I confess? Off course I should. 

1. I cherish and crave for macher jhol bhaat everyday even after having the exotic delicacies around the world.

2. I miss my mom shouting after me and my dad cribbing about me on the phone for so long. I like the pampering during the holidays nowadays but I miss those days when I was in school.

3. I miss evenings. Completely lazy ones or completely weirdly busy ones. The sky had a different tinge those days. Even if I was running late for Hajra sir's tution.

4. I miss buying books dirt cheap or borrowing them. I still borrow books. Only that they are not in Bengali. 

5. I miss bandh holidays. I miss Rs. 3.50 auto rides.

6. I miss being in a city which is so easy on your pockets. I miss being in the city where you can have the best phuchka at the rate of 5 takay 6 ta.

7. I miss bhaat boka. I miss ledge. I miss adda near dakshinapon- golpark.

8. I miss early morning school bus rides. I miss taking trips of our very dear and now dactar babu by translating and singing sharara sharara in bengali.

9. I miss the buzz of the city. I miss the metro ride. I miss the people and hustle bustle. I miss the honking horns.

10. I miss those "damn it, the signal had to go red now only" moments near Anwar Shah more or jadavpur p.s.

11. I miss romanticisng the gullies of Shyambazar, old calcutta, joint family and dreaming about marrying into one. But wait the person concerned needs to be  a bangal. No ghoti food for me.

12. I miss ghoti bangal fights at every tender occasion.

13. I miss being at every family function and that includes my 2nd cousin's baby shower where a random relative pulls my cheeks (yes! i am open to that embarrasment till now) saying - "Kotto boro hoye geche"

14. I miss having a bhalobashar manush (not a bf) who can buy me jibonanondo or sing "hoyto tomari jonyo" near the gangar ghat for real. 

15. I miss torko. I miss socialising with people who think bengal is still the buzz word.

16. I miss fighting with my mom that south is much much better than the oh! so mofussil north. (don't kill me for this. I still want to marry into a typical north Calcutta house- i mean those with khirki janla, dalan etc.)

17. I miss listening to my pishon leaking out nostalgic secrets about who had a crush on whom and who dated whom sessions which started randomly during every get together.

18. I miss being at my para. My pujo. Ashtami morning. Anjali. Bhog and times when "jhaari mara" was an art and I thought "tomaake chayi" and "pehla nasha" coexists and they are for real. (I still do.)

19. I miss get togethers and never ending adda session at Kisha's lake gardens house. 

20. I miss randomly roaming around the city to take a feel of it and then bargaining with the ghorargariwala near victoria when we all were short on cash. 

21. And them promising ourselves to be a part of this "most beautiful city" forever while crossing mohor kunjo.

22. I miss breaking news on star ananda. I miss my morning telegraph and robibashoriyo anadabazar. I miss forming my opinions on them.

23. I hate when my friends blabber about being thrown out of the south city mall food court since they parked themselves there since morning without buying anything and indulging in such good adda.

24. I miss those long walks that me, kishu, suku and all used to take via dhakuria bridge and stopping for phuchka near dakshinapon while returning home from DP's tution.

25. I miss those days when we attached so much importance and romance to the lake. Dhakuria lake. 

26. I miss going for tution at aunty's place in jodhpur park and chatting up with her randomly about everything.

I miss being home. May be that's the only place in this entire world that I will call home. always. 

(Sorry for putting you through this emotional junk. But nobody needs a hug more than me right now.)

Numb and Dumb

I was flipping through my blog posts and the now quite old traffic reader. And wow! I have a stalker. But whoever you are you definitely make me feel like a celebrity blogger on whose blog you keep on coming back 10 times a day looking for something new and look for every possible update- be it on the blog or twitter. But seriously! that old trick of changing locations across the USof A is also not quite helping your case much (I have a bigger trick up my sleeve :P). But anyways who cares! keep stalking, am always happy to have such dedicated fans and help me earn some extra bucks once I activate that 'monetise' option (I still have an ideological debate going on that, err! did that sound communist?)

And yeah, the reason I thought of writing this post is yet to come. In fact I realised that I haven't posted anything worthwhile in some time now. Agreed I had dreadful project submission deadlines to meet (unlike last semester when I was flying up the cloud, I decided to work on them properly this time), pending legal aid field visits-editing work to be done, recruitment comm elections and subsequent worries cropping up phase but still I am not that much a method writer and this isn't just coming to me anymore. Off course, am happy that I don't use my blog as the 'my bf got to this nondescript place', 'am such a dedicated gf' and 'will get married at 20 and fly off to be a 2nd class citizen on a spouse visa' kind of posts on a daily basis. Come on! keep somethings personal, nobody wants to know what the freak suggested about what stone to wear before you marry. Actually, keep that on. I mean keep that recorder on. It's kind of a comic relief in this otherwise very stressed out world. Come to think of it, If I ever had to write something like that what would it be - "Oh! I had an ice cream from Mama's. Lemon licks wasn't available so had to do with mama's 'mango dolly' (lolly). Was caught day dreaming in Corporate Law class." Heck! it sounds so boring. I need a wimp of a bf *now* who doesn't mind me boasting about his achievements since kindergarten on a public forum.

Did I bitch? hell! yes. I love bitching.
But the point remains that I can't write substantial stuff. Hope you come back to me dear old friend of mine.
 :-)

ঝড় উঠেছে। কালবৈশাখী নাকি?

কি জানি। অমল আসবে মনে হয়।

তুই এখনও আশা রাখিস?

কেন? ফ্রিজ ফ্রেমের শটটা খুব ওপর চালাকি না?

তারপর?

তারপর সবকিছু লেখা হয়ে থাকে নাটকে নভেলে

আর পন্ডিতের চুলচেরা বিশ্লেষনে।

আর চারু?

P.S. This is what happens when a lonely afternoon beckons you :D

The trump card called "quits"

There are angry moments and then there are moments of relief. Frankly speaking when I read about the news of Kabir Suman quitting as a Member of Parliament and Trinamool Congress I was happy and relieved. Thank you, Suman. You needed that break and WE deserved that break from you.
Don't get me wrong. I am a fan of the kind of music he makes, though I consider that I have actually heard very little of that. But any kid growing up in Calcutta in the 90's and early 2000's who over romanticised everything and had all the wee bit makings of the typical Bong aantel (Tagore, Derrida, Theatre, Revolution and book fair trips included) listened to Suman. No big deal! He was the archetypical "Gaanwala" of his songs. And the sheer magic of poetry in his works, "....Tomaar tulona ami khujina kokhono, bohu bybohar kora kono upomaay..." made us go wild. And then there was the iconic song/verse where he claimed, "....nagorik klantitey tomaake chayi, bohudur hentey eshey tomaake chayi..."
But this was then. When he was a wordsmith. When he could turn the urban milieu upside down with his touch of his own style of communism. When he wasn't labelled as a wife beater. When he wasn't portrayed as a debauch and a man of double standards by the media. When he didn't bad mouth the audience speaking against his line of thought in a concert (that was very much unlike the spirit of the songs which we used to hear).  And to our surprise we could all see through these truths. These were mostly truths. I do not know if he took up the excuse of religion to marry again or was it his own wish to convert (that was a personal decision) but what hurt was when this man whom we considered to be a great couldn't stand up to take responsibility of his personal life. (There is a long story there from a personal experience, but that's a different story altogether.)
For many like me, we continued to loved his songs, but he had fallen from grace. For an ardent fan like my father who though did not belong to the jeebonmukhi listening generation but still collected his cassettes, he was a lost case. Suman Chattopadhyay's resurrection was not possible for us who were disillusioned by his hipocrisy and lack of character and will.
But then again Bengal politics have much to offer for your entertainment than even Horatio could have imagined. Singur turned out to be a political turnaround moment for Mamata Banerjee and her brand of socialism found many a takers in the Nandan going elite aantels (Buddhijibi as she prefers to call them). I have immense regard for many of them and the way they supported Banerjee in her movement for what they considered was wrong yet maintaining a safe distance from the nasty rigmaroleof electoral politics. But Suman being that "naive" that he claims to be contested the polls from Jadavpur constituency. And many like me, his erstwhile fans and his neighbours of his earlier Lake Gardens house, were voters from the area.
It was a time for us to choose. For many like my father who had been life long Congressis and were fervent in their support of the Congress-TC pact in West Bengal which eventually threatened the basis of 32 years of Left Front rule in Bengal, it was not a pleasant choice. Many, and this I can say from my personal interaction with the people of the area, voted just for Mamata Banerjee. And if Kabir Suman ever thought that it was him who was being voted to power, he should get his facts right. My pishimoni and mom did not vote in many years. They did not want to elect a person like Suman as their representative. My father reasoned out that he was voting for change and Mamata Banerjee, not Suman. It was not merely a prediction that the margin of TC could have doubled in Jadavpur in case another candidate was put up there.
And then after he gets elected what he did as a people's representative (one who needs to be at the beck and call of the people) was to ask for appointments! yes! and this same person later claimed in a media conference that he was not being able to work for the people? Excuse me! Mr. Suman. I don't know when will you be able to behave like a mature individual who doesn't run away from his responsibilities just because another woman allured him, but you were speaking in the capacity of a Member of Parliament in the largest and thriving democracy in the world. And what kind of work exactly did you refer to Mr. Suman? Throwing away the elected Government of the Country/state?? Quite apparent, because you empathise with them. I do make that us and them distinction so famous in Bengal politics in this case. Yes it is them who have been fooling around for long. In stead you should have paid attention to the use of the welfare measures that were undertaken by the Government in your Constituency. But you are so naive that yours is always a case of sour grapes.You claimed you did not want to contest elections, you did never wish to be party member and took membership only after your candidature was announced and the BEST joke was that you have realised all political parties irrespective of CPM/Trinamool are corrupt. Blah! you took that long to realise that????? I mean do you think we are fools to believe that you were coecred into this democratic process.
And then you went ahead foul mouthing your leadership and party in public appearances. The only question, we, the electorate had for you was why don't you quit then? And you did, but how was it possible without the drama? You resigned over an SMS (?!) I mean hats off to you to come up with such innovative ideas to buy time and butter your ego. You every well expect the TC leadership to coax you back to their fold. I sincerely hope they don't. You are a good riddance.
It's often painful to see a childhood hero go down the drains. In your case Suman, it is different. You are just a mere shadow of your earlier self. You are selling that self of yours as a commodity. Do us and yourself a favour, please continue with singing, you might just regain some respect you lost. And Don't even dare to revoke that SMS resignation. For our sake Gaanwala!

Being Together

This was my entry for the creative writing competition in Carpe Diem, 2010. Carpe Diem is the intra university fest that we have every year. This was written in two hours flat with a 1200 words limit. So couldn't explore it much. Nevertheless thought of publishing it. Oh! it won the 3rd prize :D

                                                               Being Together

“So should I wait for you or go alone?” Titir clearly sounded disinterested over the phone.

“I think I will be late.” Rajat was curt enough to match Titir.

“Ok.”

A conversation like this was nowadays ordinary for Rajat-Titir. Over the years their relationship had seen phases of being pale and then turns a shade paler. Fourteen years ago they were campus sweethearts in one of the country’s best engineering colleges. Needless to say it was very difficult to convince Rajat’s proud Punjabi parents and Titir’s equally conceited Bengali family to go for a cross cultural marriage like theirs. But eventually they had to give in to the demands of this upbeat couple for a ‘love marriage’.

Titir often wondered about what went wrong between then and now. It all seemed picture perfect even the day when she told him about her pregnancy. Was it the miscarriage that made Rajat averse? Or was it because of the better career profile that Titir managed over the years while Rajat struggled for no particular reasons. Every single incident, be it Titir’s absence when Rajat’s mom expired or his refusal to father a child again, added to a greater darkness within the shadows that already clouded their relationship.

It was a particularly humid day. The traffic added to the woes. Titir was seriously contemplating asking Ira mashi why she had a fetish for scheduling all her children’s wedding during summer. She also could never sense the joy that her extended family gathered by asking her about Rajat. They all knew about the state of things. In fact Titir was happy that Rajat made up an excuse today. She clearly remembered what an embarrassment he was when he once came for a family wedding completely drunk.

 “Titir, Why are you so late?” Her mother was standing in front of the stair case.

“Ma, you know I often get late while coming back from office. Besides that, the traffic was really bad.”

“Ok. Is Rajat coming?”

“I don’t know.”

“At least today you guys could have made an effort ton show up together.”

The last remark by her mother made her lose her cool. Didn’t her mother know everything about their relationship and what Titir had been going through?

“Why? What is so special about today? Or for that matter any day? Ma, I still have some prestige and dignity left. I am thankful that he declined to come today. Don’t you remember what he did for Chotomama’s son’s wedding?”

“Titir I understand. But you should always give people a second chance.”

“How may more “Second” chances Ma?”

“Titir for God’s sake, don’t you guys remember it is 22^nd of April today, your wedding anniversary.”

For a moment Titir was stuck as to what to say in reply. She actually could not come up with a befitting one. She mumbled something before moving on to meet her cousin Rinku, the one who was getting married today. The very same day she had an elaborate wedding with Rajat, fifteen summers ago. How could she forget about it completely? And how could Rajat? They had planned so much about the wedding, the rituals, the shopping to be done and how the wedding album should be done up. All that seems yesterday and today they completely forgot about it.

The confusion regarding the last minute details of the wedding reached its peak. The groom’s family was already there and Ira mashi hyperventilated. Titir could not find a much more opportune moment to slip out of the venue silently. Her mind pondered only over Rajat’s ignorance to remember this day. She understood it was her fault too but couldn’t he surprise him by remembering this day once in their entire married life. Till last year she made some efforts to buy gifts and go out for dinner. And this year she also forgot. Is it an indication as to where is their relationship heading to?

All these thoughts cluttered her mind while she drove back home. Perhaps that place which she nowadays calls her own could provide some solace. Perhaps because it was a roof shared by two strangers who nowadays did not even bother to remember a common thread the legally still bound their lives.

She banged then door after opening it with her own set of keys. And there was a bigger surprise waiting for her inside.

Rajat was sitting in hall. The Asha Bhonsle song being played was of her choice, but she did not care to notice.

“You told you will be late, didn’t you?” Titir was seething with anger.

“Yes.”

“Come on, why did you have to make up an excuse? Why couldn’t you come with me for my relative’s wedding?”

“I did not feel like.” Rajat was cold.

“Did not feel like it? Ok! Tell me once Rajat when you ever did something with conviction? You can only frown about things in life and never do anything about it. Do you have any idea that my relatives ask when you do not turn up for such a social do?”

“But Titir I think you once mentioned that I do not accompany you for such functions. Besides it does not seem that your family is particularly fond of me.”

“It is because you turned up drunk for such a function. What more do you expect?”

“That is fine then. Even you were not present when my family needed you the most.”

“Don’t bring that up or even compare. It was out of my hands, I was on an official tour when mummyji expired.”

“Oh! Please, do not give me that shit. You and your official duties always take preference.”

“Stop sulking Rajat and accept the fact that I am more successful. I could never understand why you are having an inferiority complex? Come on! I am equally qualified and did not drown myself in alcohol. I never lacked focus in my life, unlike you.”

“Yes. Focus in life that killed our child.”

For a moment Titir wished she was deaf, but it was not to be. Rajat had left the room.

The next morning was not any different from the usual routine. Titir was getting ready by her usual eight-thirty standard when she found a note besides the jewellery case Rajat had gifted her on their first wedding anniversary. Rajat had scribbled a sorry on it, the first one he had in all these years. Titir was impatient to throw it away when the concluding part of the note caught her attention.

“Titir,

I thought you had remembered our anniversary and returned early. I was waiting for you. I don’t know if I told you about this ‘Baba’ I met at the jogger’s park a month back. I know you will laugh at me but he inspired me to start everything afresh. But it was not meant to be the way I planned. I remember you never quite believed in ideal dates. Yesterday was one which went awry. Let’s make an unplanned start today, a day past the fifteenth year of our being together.”

Emotions overcome the better of one’s self and Titir was no exception. Only that this time Rajat was standing at the door to comfort her.

Death of the Ideologue- The deceased romance of a generation

Kanu Sanyal, the Naxal ideologue died this week. He committed suicide. He died on a day when news channels across India where hyperventilating to give equal coverage to his death and the fire that raged the century and a half old Stephen Court building in Park Street, Calcutta, the one which houses the iconic Flury's confectionery store. It might just be a coincidence that in his death also he had to fight for equal footage on national airwaves with the symbolism of something he aspired to bring down with the dreams of a revolution.
Frankly speaking, none of us (and I mean the 'Bongs' of our generation) will be able to appreciate the nuances of the Naxalbari movement and the romance that an entire generation of our Babas, Jethus and Kakus attached to it. We are a far cry from that.
I remember a time when my Amma used to tell me stories about those horrific times. The times of the romance of the Naxalbari. I come from a Bengali family who have been supporting the INC (Indian National Congress) through thick and thin. My great grandfather have been a first generation Congressman. Needless to say we have been successful in maintaining that stand even in the times when an alternative to the CPM in West Bengal did seem impossible. But then again we were not unaffected. My father's days of youth were of those when Bengal was rising to a new dawn and a dream which later turned in to a nightmare. It may be his inclination towards reading up on everything that he being a staunch Chatro Parishad supporter in college days still read up on the  nuances of the Naxalbari Movement. He never supported it, (in fact he once told me that these were the people who have distanced an entire generation of Indian youth from the democratic process) but he was the run of the mill Bengali guy whom the now deceased Kanu Sanyal would have loved to meet.
Yes, I say this because somewhere I feel that there was a dream and it was ruined. And it is a sham of Communism in all the Communist ruled states that we are living in today. Kanu Sanyal, for once, accepted the fact. He preferred staying with the people he had fought for. His Comrades. Not like the ones we see everyday, brokering a deal with the local real estate dealer or may be with a big Industrial house to overnight convert a silent and previously unheard of village in to the Singapore of Bengal without much groundwork and detailing going in to it.
These are myopic dreams that the so called Communists and Maoists have been seeing for long now. albeit from the two different ends of the spectrum. Maoists continue with their penchant for violent struggle where the ultimate losers end up being the onces they claim to fight for. It is high time for them to understand that to fight a machinery as big and organised as "State power" you need to stop fighting first. Since the notions of a welfare state are deep entrenched in our system, in spite of the JNU returned Communists (who are scared of facing the democratic face of the country) plaguing the system- there is hope.Hope in our Political process which churns out the much controversy ridden yet appreciated efforts like the NREGA.
 Violence is never the solution. And hats off to Kanu Sanyal who had realised this and took a stand. It will take time before our Netas and the other self proclaimed ones take note of that. But for one who had started this movement with the precincts of violence, to accept this fact and not being dogmatic could have been a huge step towards blending Communist movement within the mainstream of Indian Politics. Sadly, that never happened and with the state of things at present, it might just be so that the next generation of Bongs would understand the Communist movement in India just as another 'Historic Blunder'.
Frankly speaking, I know very little of who Kanu Sanyal was and his work or the times he lived in. It is just another third eye perspective. A perspective of the sort whose fathers and uncles believed that Kanu Sanyal was practical and why Charu Mazumdar's strict hardcore line of violence is bound to meet with utter destruction.
In his death, our generation (the very few who actually bothered to take note) has relived the romance of Naxalbari and its original intent rather than despairing over the fact that the person who started it and later condemned the Maoist movement, died a lonely death. Popular media might be right on the fact that his death sent out the signals of despair over violence but it was also about going back and understanding the bent of mind of a person more Communist than the ones we elect and the alternative model that he accepted and could have propounded in case his dream would have not gone awry or his friends in power not grown richer by the millions.

Chrome.

Our two and a half year long project on Nanotechnology and the Law is finally gearing towards its last leg. And it was indeed a learning experience. Learning, in many a ways. Learning because I could buy that coveted and pricey dress for my sister which my internship or creative writing contest win remuneration could not provide for. Learning also because I learnt to tackle the harder ways of life and how not to take your CGPA for a ride while you don't see eye to eye with the authorities. Well! thank you life for that may be.
But back to where I began. We had been busy through the semester planning out and detailing out every nitty gritty of organising a seminar for this project whereby the report we have prepared and the drafted bill stands the final scrutiny before it gets submitted. And I loved doing every bit of it. Chalking out and sharing work, drafting letters, inviting people, calling up much Senior Advocates and sharing a joke with them while you haven't even seen them ever and being comfortable with it, calling up your own alumni for more contacts, inquiring about the food, dealing with over enthusiastic juniors asking you random doubts, conducting sessions and scanning papers- sending them for final approval (that was for the in house conclave) - Boy! the only thing that came to my mind after all this was "Aami ebar ekta meyer biye ditey pari" (I can actually make the arrangements for a girl's marriage) considering the fact that it is supposed to be the most difficult thing to organise on earth. I was quite nervous when we began. Probably because till today all the seminar/ conferences that I have participated in/ volunteered for on campus or outside where organised by somebody and my duty was to only read my paper enjoy the food and have a good holiday (Taj! Lucknow, ah!) or I was assigned work by some senior which I did diligently. But this time we as a team were jointly responsible for everything. And that included assigning work for our juniors too. They had similar expressions on their faces, similar rapporteur-ing queries that we had sometime back. And suddenly I could see the baton pass on.   And we might just disagree on the amount we are going to miss NALSAR after a year but we all know its only a matter of time before we leave. May be 3 years from now I would also turn up for such a seminar and express glee on seeing that classmate I might be meeting for the first time after convocation.
The scheduled seminar finally happened today on campus. And fireworks it was.  My god! I had heard that the academia, the industry and the policy makers do not see eye to eye. I saw that in front of my eyes today. People doing Ph.Ds and  other assorted stuff, hats off to you (that too in Science.though for a moment I loved physics today because of that wonderful professor)....How much do you study and reason. It's a completely different question though that the brilliant lawyers cut across through all your points with SOME reasoning. :P. No offence meant whatsoever.
It was also kind of great to know that a few of the advocates/legal experts were looking for me (since I was the one contacting them while others handled the work regarding contacting the nano experts' part), appreciated our work and indulged us to join in when a poor participant's trip was being taken badly. It was like dawning on us that the dreams of meeting such luminaries while being that gawky eyed teenager were finally turning into a dream. It will get only bigger from here. I await that moment.