Got this mail from a friend:
An Old Story:
The Ant works hard in the withering heat all summer building its house and laying up supplies for the winter. The Grasshopper thinks the Ant is a fool and laughs & dances & plays the summer away. Come winter, the Ant is warm and well fed. The Grasshopper has no food or shelter so he dies out in the cold.
The Indian Version:
The Ant works hard in the withering heat all summer building its house and laying up supplies for the winter. The Grasshopper thinks the Ant's a fool and laughs & dances & plays the summer away. Come winter, the shivering Grasshopper calls a press conference and demands to know why the Ant should be allowed to be warm and well fed while others are cold and starving.
NDTV, BBC, CNN show up to provide pictures of the shivering Grasshopper next to a video of the Ant in his comfortable home with a table filled with food. The World is stunned by the sharp contrast. How can this be that this poor Grasshopper is allowed to suffer so?
Arundhati Roy stages a demonstration in front of the Ant's house.
Medha Patkar goes on a fast along with other Grasshoppers demanding that Grasshoppers be relocated to warmer climates during winter.
Amnesty International and Koffi Annan criticize the Indian Government for not upholding the fundamental rights of the Grasshopper.
The Internet is flooded with online petitions seeking support to the Grasshopper (many promising Heaven and Everlasting Peace for prompt support as against the wrath of God for non-compliance).
Opposition MPs stage a walkout. Left parties call for 'Bandh' in West Bengal and Kerala demanding a Judicial Enquiry.
CPM in Kerala immediately passes a law preventing Ants from working hard in the heat so as to bring about equality of poverty among Ants and Grasshoppers.
Lalu Prasad allocates one free coach to Grasshoppers on all Indian Railway Trains, aptly named as the 'Grasshopper Rath'.
Arjun Singh makes 'Special Reservation ' for Grasshoppers in Educational Institutions & in Government Services.
The Ant is unable to cope with the Resesrvation and has nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes; so his home is confiscated by the Government and handed over to the Grasshopper in a ceremony covered by NDTV.
Arundhati Roy calls it ' A Triumph of Justice'.
Lalu calls it 'Socialistic Justice '.
CPM calls it the ' Revolutionary Resurgence of the Downtrodden '
Koffi Annan invites the Grasshopper to address the UN General Assembly.
Congress takes the credit for always caring about the AAM Grasshopeer.
Many years later...
The Ant has since migrated to the US and set up a multi-billion dollar company in Silicon Valley...
100s of Grasshoppers still die of starvation despite reservation somewhere in India.
AND...
As a result of losing lot of hard working Ants and feeding the grasshoppers, India is still a developing country.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Friday, May 9, 2008
The Irritating Indian Expressions
1. Anti-incumbency factor – used by self proclaimed analysts when they want to say, ‘we don’t understand these bloody illiterate voters’
2. Alternative cinema – people who use words like ‘metaphor’ and chase prospective producers away, eventually find some petty cash and make low budget films on ‘issues’ – where during siesta time on Doordarshan, they show some Oriya speaking people squatting and boiling water.
3. Indomitable spirit – of Mumbai especially and now other blast affected areas like Varanasi; it’s the habit of people taking the trains and other public transport to work just the day after the flood or the blast. The phrase is used by people who don’t take these public transports.
4. Indian culture – used chiefly by yuppies, who have not read enough to know that other countries too, have culture. This expression is almost always invoked to address the modernity of women.
5. “I am in search of my identity” – a ritualistic quote of creative people when they have just become famous. Also the result of a couple of whiskeys on a wannabe. This phrase is usually delivered from the other end of the alimentary canal.
6. Woman on top – usually found everywhere; and yes, it is followed by two exclamation marks.
7. “Off the record” – I maybe lying.
8. Land of Kamasutra – reference to India. Through this expression, writers and critics argue that since one man, centuries ago, recorded the various positions in which elastic couples can make love, this country was once inherently liberal. It is interchangeable with ‘Land of Khajuraho’
9. Paradigm Shift – an expression used by MBA grads and Amway distributors when they want to say that they do not know what they are talking about. It is often accompanied by ‘synergy’ and ‘leverage’.
10. “Rekha is an Enigma” – Don’t know what it means.
Other FUPs (Frequently Used Phrases)
Abhi-Ash / Big B / SRK / Breaking News / Just chill / Everything is Maya (god knows who is she) / Gimme a missed call / Gandhigiri / Gen X / Indian heritage / IT boom / Foreign Coach / Cricket is a religion / Masterblaster / Cool! / Secularism / Sporting Wicket / Tinseltown / We are not a nation of snake charmers / Southern Siren / Homely girl / Evergreen Hero / Anti communal forces / Ancient Indians knew the distance between Sun and… blah blah blah.
2. Alternative cinema – people who use words like ‘metaphor’ and chase prospective producers away, eventually find some petty cash and make low budget films on ‘issues’ – where during siesta time on Doordarshan, they show some Oriya speaking people squatting and boiling water.
3. Indomitable spirit – of Mumbai especially and now other blast affected areas like Varanasi; it’s the habit of people taking the trains and other public transport to work just the day after the flood or the blast. The phrase is used by people who don’t take these public transports.
4. Indian culture – used chiefly by yuppies, who have not read enough to know that other countries too, have culture. This expression is almost always invoked to address the modernity of women.
5. “I am in search of my identity” – a ritualistic quote of creative people when they have just become famous. Also the result of a couple of whiskeys on a wannabe. This phrase is usually delivered from the other end of the alimentary canal.
6. Woman on top – usually found everywhere; and yes, it is followed by two exclamation marks.
7. “Off the record” – I maybe lying.
8. Land of Kamasutra – reference to India. Through this expression, writers and critics argue that since one man, centuries ago, recorded the various positions in which elastic couples can make love, this country was once inherently liberal. It is interchangeable with ‘Land of Khajuraho’
9. Paradigm Shift – an expression used by MBA grads and Amway distributors when they want to say that they do not know what they are talking about. It is often accompanied by ‘synergy’ and ‘leverage’.
10. “Rekha is an Enigma” – Don’t know what it means.
Other FUPs (Frequently Used Phrases)
Abhi-Ash / Big B / SRK / Breaking News / Just chill / Everything is Maya (god knows who is she) / Gimme a missed call / Gandhigiri / Gen X / Indian heritage / IT boom / Foreign Coach / Cricket is a religion / Masterblaster / Cool! / Secularism / Sporting Wicket / Tinseltown / We are not a nation of snake charmers / Southern Siren / Homely girl / Evergreen Hero / Anti communal forces / Ancient Indians knew the distance between Sun and… blah blah blah.
Thesis on Bongs
Overview:
There are three types of Bengalis that I know. Probashi or Expatriate Bengalis, a fairly large and diverse group about which I won’t write this time; Bengalis who are from the rest of West Bengal – I am one of them; and the icing on the cake – Bengalis from Calcutta. This group is incorrectly known as Bongs, as they are merely a subset. However, this is the only group which matters. Gokhale told of them, long years back, 'What Bengal thinks today, India thinks tomorrow.' To which Rene Descartes responded, 'I think (today), therefore I am (Bengali).'
Physical Description:
The Bong has a large head, glasses, glistening hair and darkish skin. Older Bongs develop an ample stomach to balance their large heads. This happens by the age of 30. They smell of Keo Karpin hair oil. The average life expectancy is 65 years. What is even more impressive is what they do in those years. Outside Calcutta, regardless of weather, sex or age, Bongs can be seen in Monkey Caps. This is a must-have accessory as well as a sign to recognize other Bongs. The Bongling can often be recognized in either over-sized or under-sized school uniforms. The Bong mother's second biggest fear (See diet for the biggest one) is 'porer bochor o lomba hoye gele abar notun skirt kinte hobe!!' or 'Next year, if you grow taller, we'll again have to buy a new skirt!!' Thus, the school uniform is selected to last at least three years. Thus the uniform sits as conspicuously on the Bongling as the plumage of a macaw.
Early Years:
While most Bongs are born with innate talents in singing or dancing or painting or film-making or cooking or embroidery; and their creative talents start getting honed even before they start speaking. Frequent meets are organized between infants and their successful ancestors and other relatives. MA degrees, preferably from Ox-Cam, at least from Presidency or JOO (Jadavpur Univ) are displayed over the cots. The infant is exposed to the best of Bengali thought – Marx, Bentham, Kalidas, Tolstoy, Chekhov, even Hemmingway. This increases the sizes of their heads and the height of their ambitions. Similar examples, though rare, can be found in European tradition as well, like in the case of Mozart. In India, however, Bongs have the sole preserve on such activity during infancy. Soon, when they grow up a little, their characters are honed in the best of schools. Here, I am not referring to the St Paul’s, South Points, La Marts, Don Boscos and all. They are important in the nurture a Bong child goes through. What is even more important are the schools the Bong child passes through before school and after school. Many a Bong child wakes up at five o'clock in the morning to attend swimming classes. After one hour of swimming, he attends tennis coaching before rushing off to one of the South Points, LaMarts etc. mentioned above. School finishes by two or so, from where he scoots along to Singing/ Guitar/ Piano/ Tabla/ Dance Classes, then tuition (for at least three of all five subjects). He rounds off the day with coaching on either Debating or Quiz. Many a Bong mother will carry the child along through this day, feeling equally energized. This behavior is again not restricted to Bongs. It also seen within kangaroos in Australia who rush along from one clump to another bush.
Growing up:
Soon the Bong attains adolescence, doesn't find friends of his age (since everyone is competing for the Nobel/ Booker/ Oscar) and finds intimacy in conversation in his/her parents and poems of Pablo Neruda. When school ends, they move on to the good colleges – Cambridge, Presidency, Xavier's, IIT Kharagpur. The intellectuals (among intellectuals) move straight to JOO (Jadavpur Univ). However, in recent years, Dilli (Stephen's obviously) is becoming the preferred destination for some escapists. In colleges, they decorate their rooms with books or portraits of Kobi-Guru (Tagore). On the opposite wall, men would have posters of Che, Castro and Pele, while women would have Julio Iglesias and Claudio Cannigia, thus expressing solidarity with Latin American culture. All of them share equal interest in the Bong-Rock (Miles, LRB, Bhumi, Chondrobindu, Cactus, James Da… and of course the classic anti-establishments in Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple and DOORS).
Later Years:
Bongs mature early. Critics have said that they grow old early, but that is nothing but old hat. Years of toil and TS Eliot would obviously bestow wisdom. The reason they look older is because the sole purpose of a Bong's life is to win the Nobel, Booker, Pulitzer, or the Oscars (and in recent years, Captaincy of the Indian team). With great responsibility comes great age. Add to it the chlorine in the swimming pools and you know why Bongs grey prematurely. As far as their mission in life is concerned, they have been very successful at it. Majority Indian Nobel Prize winner has been Bong. So have the Oscar Awardees. And most successful Cricket Captains. A clear majority of Indo-Anglian writers. And Bipasha Basu! Once Bongs have kids though, their mission on life changes. The only raision de'etre for them is making sure that their progeny achieves the heights that they could (or couldn't). Hence, they are mostly found outside of schools, colleges and tuition classes.
Diet:
Diet is as important as Robindro Shongeet. There's nothing that a Bong can't eat. However, they prefer protein over other food groups. The largest source of protein for them is fish, then meat, and then mishti (sweets) made from milk. More than fish itself, it is the knowledge of fish which is coveted and enjoyed. Carbohydrates are tolerated if they are fried in oil or if it is accompaniment to fish. Luchis (somewhat like a Puri), Telebhajas (pakoras) and Phuchkas (Paani Puri) are the favored sources of carbohydrates. The Bongling though invariably always has Farex, Lactogen and Waterbury’s Compound. As far as the most important meal of the day is concerned, please do note that what dieticians have been saying in the last few years, Bongs have known for centuries. Breakphast/tiphhin is an occasion where the entire family comes together, to watch the office-going Bong male and school-bound Bonglings eat. The Bong woman's biggest fear is 'Shokale bhaat-dal-mach bhaaja na kheye beriye galo' – 'In the morning, he went out without eating rice, dal and fish fry.' To round off the calories, Dal is often accompanied by aaloo bhaate, aaloo bhaja, potol bhaaja and various other heartily fried stuff. Not for the faint-hearted.
Mating and procreation:
A few Bongs end up being in relationships, which lead to love marriage. This is sometimes shown in movies and song. However, most do not have any such social malignancy and end up marrying the woman of their mother's dreams or men of their father's choosing. This results in mixing the right genes for the next cycle of Bongs. Love marriage, by far is seldom. It sometimes results is tragedy, like marrying into another country (most often, the rest of India). Hence, it is avoided, wherever possible.
Social Life:
Adda, robindro shongeet and cha... Repeat.Do note that the young Bong doesn't have a social life (at least not till he wins the Nobel or gets a Government job). Mosaic para-r rock for the outbound lot, and cha and carram for the homesick; and viola! You have the winning combination in Bong social life. You would of course bump into an intellectually rich Bong mix in Coffee shops, but that’s dealt under Habitat.
Outdoor Passion:
Phootball. Period. The Bongs have had an illustrious history of achievement in football. Every Para (neighborhood) has stories of when they won the World Cup at the expense of the next one. The last time it happened in my parent's Para was in 1986, when Argentina won in Mexico. Diego Maradona, who looks Bhodrolok (gentleman) enough, give or take a few ounces of coke, scored famously using his hand – a skill which he learnt in Kolkata. Over the last few years, Brajeel has been gladdening the hearts of many Zicos and Falcaos and Dungas who were born in Kolkata around 1980s. The only team which is not Bong is Germany as they play with more efficiency and no creativity, which thus is not amenable to adda. Do not ask of a Bong doing anything on the phootball field as then the Bong will keep you occupied about Jakarta, 1962. Chuni Goswami je ball tule dilo PK ke. Match-er aagei bolechilo, 'Ekta Ball debo. Daam kore maarish. Gol hobe'. Chuni Goswami put a football up for PK (Banerjee). He told him before the match itself, 'I will give you one ball. Hit it with a bang. Goal will happen.' Obviously, it is also the crowning moment of Indian phootball.
Habitat:
While you may find a Bong in other places (like occasionally in movie halls), the best time to observe a Bong is in his natural habitat - the best of colleges, the best of schools, the best of coffee houses, and the best of tourist locations. It is here that he will tell you about Balzac while she will recite poetry with gay abandon. To mix in with the Bong, apply Keo Karpin hair oil to your hair and carry a jhola (jute side-bag). Hopefully, they won't notice your small head. Do not worry about not knowing the language. You can pass off as a Probashi Bangali (expat).
Famous Bongs in Literature, Film and Art; apart from the now overflowing Bollywood: Everywhere you care to look.
Closing Word:
Being Bong at the end of the day is a state of mind. Or, a case of being discovered by them.
There are three types of Bengalis that I know. Probashi or Expatriate Bengalis, a fairly large and diverse group about which I won’t write this time; Bengalis who are from the rest of West Bengal – I am one of them; and the icing on the cake – Bengalis from Calcutta. This group is incorrectly known as Bongs, as they are merely a subset. However, this is the only group which matters. Gokhale told of them, long years back, 'What Bengal thinks today, India thinks tomorrow.' To which Rene Descartes responded, 'I think (today), therefore I am (Bengali).'
Physical Description:
The Bong has a large head, glasses, glistening hair and darkish skin. Older Bongs develop an ample stomach to balance their large heads. This happens by the age of 30. They smell of Keo Karpin hair oil. The average life expectancy is 65 years. What is even more impressive is what they do in those years. Outside Calcutta, regardless of weather, sex or age, Bongs can be seen in Monkey Caps. This is a must-have accessory as well as a sign to recognize other Bongs. The Bongling can often be recognized in either over-sized or under-sized school uniforms. The Bong mother's second biggest fear (See diet for the biggest one) is 'porer bochor o lomba hoye gele abar notun skirt kinte hobe!!' or 'Next year, if you grow taller, we'll again have to buy a new skirt!!' Thus, the school uniform is selected to last at least three years. Thus the uniform sits as conspicuously on the Bongling as the plumage of a macaw.
Early Years:
While most Bongs are born with innate talents in singing or dancing or painting or film-making or cooking or embroidery; and their creative talents start getting honed even before they start speaking. Frequent meets are organized between infants and their successful ancestors and other relatives. MA degrees, preferably from Ox-Cam, at least from Presidency or JOO (Jadavpur Univ) are displayed over the cots. The infant is exposed to the best of Bengali thought – Marx, Bentham, Kalidas, Tolstoy, Chekhov, even Hemmingway. This increases the sizes of their heads and the height of their ambitions. Similar examples, though rare, can be found in European tradition as well, like in the case of Mozart. In India, however, Bongs have the sole preserve on such activity during infancy. Soon, when they grow up a little, their characters are honed in the best of schools. Here, I am not referring to the St Paul’s, South Points, La Marts, Don Boscos and all. They are important in the nurture a Bong child goes through. What is even more important are the schools the Bong child passes through before school and after school. Many a Bong child wakes up at five o'clock in the morning to attend swimming classes. After one hour of swimming, he attends tennis coaching before rushing off to one of the South Points, LaMarts etc. mentioned above. School finishes by two or so, from where he scoots along to Singing/ Guitar/ Piano/ Tabla/ Dance Classes, then tuition (for at least three of all five subjects). He rounds off the day with coaching on either Debating or Quiz. Many a Bong mother will carry the child along through this day, feeling equally energized. This behavior is again not restricted to Bongs. It also seen within kangaroos in Australia who rush along from one clump to another bush.
Growing up:
Soon the Bong attains adolescence, doesn't find friends of his age (since everyone is competing for the Nobel/ Booker/ Oscar) and finds intimacy in conversation in his/her parents and poems of Pablo Neruda. When school ends, they move on to the good colleges – Cambridge, Presidency, Xavier's, IIT Kharagpur. The intellectuals (among intellectuals) move straight to JOO (Jadavpur Univ). However, in recent years, Dilli (Stephen's obviously) is becoming the preferred destination for some escapists. In colleges, they decorate their rooms with books or portraits of Kobi-Guru (Tagore). On the opposite wall, men would have posters of Che, Castro and Pele, while women would have Julio Iglesias and Claudio Cannigia, thus expressing solidarity with Latin American culture. All of them share equal interest in the Bong-Rock (Miles, LRB, Bhumi, Chondrobindu, Cactus, James Da… and of course the classic anti-establishments in Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, Deep Purple and DOORS).
Later Years:
Bongs mature early. Critics have said that they grow old early, but that is nothing but old hat. Years of toil and TS Eliot would obviously bestow wisdom. The reason they look older is because the sole purpose of a Bong's life is to win the Nobel, Booker, Pulitzer, or the Oscars (and in recent years, Captaincy of the Indian team). With great responsibility comes great age. Add to it the chlorine in the swimming pools and you know why Bongs grey prematurely. As far as their mission in life is concerned, they have been very successful at it. Majority Indian Nobel Prize winner has been Bong. So have the Oscar Awardees. And most successful Cricket Captains. A clear majority of Indo-Anglian writers. And Bipasha Basu! Once Bongs have kids though, their mission on life changes. The only raision de'etre for them is making sure that their progeny achieves the heights that they could (or couldn't). Hence, they are mostly found outside of schools, colleges and tuition classes.
Diet:
Diet is as important as Robindro Shongeet. There's nothing that a Bong can't eat. However, they prefer protein over other food groups. The largest source of protein for them is fish, then meat, and then mishti (sweets) made from milk. More than fish itself, it is the knowledge of fish which is coveted and enjoyed. Carbohydrates are tolerated if they are fried in oil or if it is accompaniment to fish. Luchis (somewhat like a Puri), Telebhajas (pakoras) and Phuchkas (Paani Puri) are the favored sources of carbohydrates. The Bongling though invariably always has Farex, Lactogen and Waterbury’s Compound. As far as the most important meal of the day is concerned, please do note that what dieticians have been saying in the last few years, Bongs have known for centuries. Breakphast/tiphhin is an occasion where the entire family comes together, to watch the office-going Bong male and school-bound Bonglings eat. The Bong woman's biggest fear is 'Shokale bhaat-dal-mach bhaaja na kheye beriye galo' – 'In the morning, he went out without eating rice, dal and fish fry.' To round off the calories, Dal is often accompanied by aaloo bhaate, aaloo bhaja, potol bhaaja and various other heartily fried stuff. Not for the faint-hearted.
Mating and procreation:
A few Bongs end up being in relationships, which lead to love marriage. This is sometimes shown in movies and song. However, most do not have any such social malignancy and end up marrying the woman of their mother's dreams or men of their father's choosing. This results in mixing the right genes for the next cycle of Bongs. Love marriage, by far is seldom. It sometimes results is tragedy, like marrying into another country (most often, the rest of India). Hence, it is avoided, wherever possible.
Social Life:
Adda, robindro shongeet and cha... Repeat.Do note that the young Bong doesn't have a social life (at least not till he wins the Nobel or gets a Government job). Mosaic para-r rock for the outbound lot, and cha and carram for the homesick; and viola! You have the winning combination in Bong social life. You would of course bump into an intellectually rich Bong mix in Coffee shops, but that’s dealt under Habitat.
Outdoor Passion:
Phootball. Period. The Bongs have had an illustrious history of achievement in football. Every Para (neighborhood) has stories of when they won the World Cup at the expense of the next one. The last time it happened in my parent's Para was in 1986, when Argentina won in Mexico. Diego Maradona, who looks Bhodrolok (gentleman) enough, give or take a few ounces of coke, scored famously using his hand – a skill which he learnt in Kolkata. Over the last few years, Brajeel has been gladdening the hearts of many Zicos and Falcaos and Dungas who were born in Kolkata around 1980s. The only team which is not Bong is Germany as they play with more efficiency and no creativity, which thus is not amenable to adda. Do not ask of a Bong doing anything on the phootball field as then the Bong will keep you occupied about Jakarta, 1962. Chuni Goswami je ball tule dilo PK ke. Match-er aagei bolechilo, 'Ekta Ball debo. Daam kore maarish. Gol hobe'. Chuni Goswami put a football up for PK (Banerjee). He told him before the match itself, 'I will give you one ball. Hit it with a bang. Goal will happen.' Obviously, it is also the crowning moment of Indian phootball.
Habitat:
While you may find a Bong in other places (like occasionally in movie halls), the best time to observe a Bong is in his natural habitat - the best of colleges, the best of schools, the best of coffee houses, and the best of tourist locations. It is here that he will tell you about Balzac while she will recite poetry with gay abandon. To mix in with the Bong, apply Keo Karpin hair oil to your hair and carry a jhola (jute side-bag). Hopefully, they won't notice your small head. Do not worry about not knowing the language. You can pass off as a Probashi Bangali (expat).
Famous Bongs in Literature, Film and Art; apart from the now overflowing Bollywood: Everywhere you care to look.
Closing Word:
Being Bong at the end of the day is a state of mind. Or, a case of being discovered by them.
The Dilemma in Bengal
There is a subtle crisis that we face in West Bengal, though not many of us are aware of it. A never ending saga of Left front rule that no amount of television mega-soap can tarnish, has splashed three colors deliberately across the landscape, along with the all pervasive red.
The villages of our State follow a strict rule of swearing loyalty to either the Left Front, or the opposition; and while the former is based out of rules that would remind one of the Jurassic age, the later is based out of the philosophy that whatever Left Front stands for, is criminally wrong. For the people of the land, this is not a very healthy line of thought to base one’s existence out of, but, there is zero awareness. The rural people remain poorly educated, with basic knowledge of their mother tongue, so no amount of news and views reaches them barring the vernacular, politically aligned newspaper – which are hell bent on proving the greatness of their respective party banner.
As a result, nothing has changed much from the time when, I as a kid would romp around in my native village somewhere in Burdwan. One would still find a couple of community tube-well pumps for drinking water, there has been no addition over the years; one and a half party offices (one for Left Front and half for the opposition); and a bus stand. The additions over the past two decades are in the shape of a few electric poles that carries wires meant to provide electricity, but there are week long power-cuts; and a few bumps (road-breakers), each a phoenix, rising about ten inches from the cracked and bleeding road, for high speed buses to slow down for locals to get on or off. In terms of accomplishments, one man still tops the list. He cleared the WBCS Exams some fifty years ago – he still is the only man to have done so from that village. The current generation continues to be an apt reflection of those people that lived there a hundred years ago, and whatever I have seen during my travels to other parts of Bengal, villages across the rest of the map are no different. Rural ignorance has been an intended and manipulated situation on the part of Left Front strategy – and that’s one color.
Under such circumstances, one normally tends to turn to the urban people for some positive energy. But sixty years has failed to generate a single urban spot on the map of Bengal. Calcutta it was, Calcutta it still is – and we have the Union Jack to thank for that. Durgapur, Haldia, Asansol, Kharagpur, Malda and Siliguri, promising dark-horses at different points in time in history, remain waiting in anticipation even today, like the bride-to-be, whose prospective groom never turned up.
Was this also manipulated? Probably yes. The resultant generation that has sprouted from all these places is intellectually confused. Needless to say, Calcutta has over the years become remarkably indifferent. Key Bengalis have become tourists to their hometown, from far off Europe or America. The homogenous attitude of people across all of these urban or sub-urban areas is – We Don’t Bother. That’s the second color.
But there is a third and even deadlier hue, that, when gets to become a permanent color, can be the mother of all Singurs and Nandigrams put together. The fact that there is no worthwhile political opposition in the State. First, (and now seems) some million year ago there was Left Front – young, intellectually inclined, progressive and promising; to sum up – political hot-shots. But then they took over as rulers, and no one took over their erstwhile seat. Though it is not that the seat has been lying vacant ever since. For some time, the defeated Congress(I) made lot of usual noises as they settled down on the opposition seat. Gradually they realized that there’s more money in playing at a national level. As a result, they calmed down, save those mandatory blah-blah-ing every now and then as the rightful state opposition. The intellectual quotient of Left died two unique deaths. It died on the side of the opposition, because of the void created by the Leftists moving out from there. It then died within the Leftists, because they became the rulers.
Today, we have a mass of people that call themselves “the only solution to Left Front’s ‘hegemony’”. They have a vision that is confined only to thwarting the existing government. Nothing beyond. They are ridiculously leaderless, despite a leader; are agenda-less, barring dissident practices; and meaningless, despite lot of airtime and acoustic support. Their antics (yes, I call them so) remain desperately reactive in nature. Having been in the political map of the State for more than ten years now, they are yet to come up with a single proactive approach to an issue – detailed and defined down to the last parameter, something that is fool-proof and smells of focus on solution rather than pointing fingers at other party’s inefficiency. I am sure there are lots of issues lurking around every corner one cares to turn to. But the recorded approach to such issues has been the hackneyed ‘get us to power’ stance. An ad-campaign trying to say that they have an incredible pool of talent and stamina within to turn things upside down the moment their team assumes the mantle. I don’t know what amount of intellect the opposition of today has. But I have read Mr. Carl Sagan say, ‘extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence’. I know that the junta of West Bengal is yet to experience such evidence to the claims made.
It is not a thought to denounce the word ‘opposition’ in whatever forms it exist today, for it would be denouncing democracy; and I am not an anti-democracy character. It is also not a thought to denounce the opposition of today. At least they are there, trying to put their point across to the humungous and well-oiled machinery called Left Front, despite serious limitations. They are still holding ground when the likes of Congress (I) and BJP have literally fled from Bengal. Its just that I am a common man, who is not totally indifferent about the state of affairs, questioning the fact that why haven’t I ever seen the opposition leadership take up even a miniscule of a crisis, walk up to a TV channel, get some slot and present an analytic, fact and figure approach to solve the issue, abstaining from using the age-old phrase ‘bring us to power’ subtly or bluntly? Why is it that the ruling party gets away with Neanderthal ideas of how to run a state, something that has been questioned, criticized and crushed the world over? Why does it not get questioned here – why do we have to be so ‘different’ from the world? Why does everyone in the opposition assume that the vote bank, the rural mass is ignorant? Why does everyone overrule the fact that there might be some intelligence there, still? One might hit a goldmine there, but why doesn’t anyone try? What about a collective effort towards building the mental health of the people? Arming them with required knowledge and skills? Loosening the vice a bit, and going to the elections confident on the judgment of the voters afterwards? I am questioning the age-old, dilapidated, carton damaged and post-expiry date mentality of our political leaders – of old and young ones alike.
This color is disturbing and, if this state of the mighty oppositions continues for some more time, then it would be downright scary for all of us. We need to be scared that tomorrow, the once upon a time ‘culture’ capital of India, a place that was known to breed people with points-of-view, will be completely brainless. Scared, that no matter whichever government runs the State, the people will be shuttle-cork between stone-age ideologies and antic artists. In the whole bargain, we would all would grow old, but never really grow up.
It’s the moral duty of any socially active political opposition to try to bring about a change, and, the current opposition party in West Bengal can bring about a change in the existing mindset of the people. Why they have failed miserably so far is, because they are still based out of identical mentality that the Left front was some centuries(almost) ago, when they wanted to topple the Congress regime. That stance of impulsive, often violent opposition that was a characteristic of young and restless brains became synonymous to young Leftists, led by the likes of a highly intelligent Jyoti Basu. This doesn’t apply to the current opposition because the intelligence or credibility factor just does not exist among its leadership. The top leader of the opposition has had national portfolios on platters and she has kept resigning and has kept coming back home (probably homesickness, even I suffer from it), while someone as extremely controversial as Laloo Prasad Yadav has taken up one such leftover mess of hers and has converted that into an extremely profitable venture for the Govt. of India.
Going back to the impulsive and hot-headed variety of approach; this approach has become worn out, redundant, worthless ever since – probably the reason why Mr. Buddhadev Bhattacharaya is trying to re-adjust the Left Front’s brand image. It is sad that the opposition intelligence doesn’t appreciate that. In effect, they are just a different reflection of the Left front of yesteryears, operating out of the same political parameter that they operated out of, and giving the Politburo enough reasons to guffaw. In reality, an image never takes on the real figure. It wouldn’t be called an image then.
The mass maybe ignorant, but they possess sufficient instincts to comprehend that the 70s landed them up in today’s state. If this is to continue forever (for the underlying attitude of the leader and opposition are so similar), there is little point in risking their future, resources, and precious lives of near and dear ones, in trying to bring about a change. So to them, with the exception of a handful of fanatics, this whole chase fails to assume an appropriate dimension.
If the State has to grow up and not just grow older (aren’t we old enough already?), then the oppositions need to get worthier. How about taking a stock of the core attitude that underlines their party values and behavior? A realization of sorts that there is an urgent need to migrate from their existing set of attitude as far as possible, for they can ill afford to remain labeled the ‘other side of the same coin’ called Left Front. That achieved and cascaded successfully across all levels of membership can sensationalize the mind of the junta – we maybe ‘indifferent’ or ‘ignorant’, but we are not socially foolish. We have an acute sense of understanding ‘What-Is-In-It-For-Me’, that’s typically 21st century – the leadership can be sure about that. Then, the leaders of the opposition can think of constructive actions, not reactive or subversive in nature (I needed to spell that out), that is focused on upgrading the social status of the state. The fun that the oppositions can have is that they only have to make a SMART (specific, measurable, achievable, realistic and time-bound) presentation to the media and reach the maximum number of people(of course they can have their share of Brigade-Parade stomping, for that’s the birthright of every leader worth his/her khadi). Going by the way things are for the ruling party nowadays, this kind of a move might throw them off-balance. So when the opposition can claim kick-starting a process of ‘mass awareness’ for the first time in the history of modern and post-independent India, the rulers might feel the need to move their rear to survive. One-upmanship, tickling the ‘gone with the scotch’ intellect to resurrect, walking the talk etc can follow much later – but for the time being it will be a nice diversion from the TV screen full of primary school dropouts screaming slogans while setting buses on fire.
What happens to such prospective SMART presentations’ future? Well, first get the spreadsheets ready and start the process of building the bridge, we can cross it when it is built.
The villages of our State follow a strict rule of swearing loyalty to either the Left Front, or the opposition; and while the former is based out of rules that would remind one of the Jurassic age, the later is based out of the philosophy that whatever Left Front stands for, is criminally wrong. For the people of the land, this is not a very healthy line of thought to base one’s existence out of, but, there is zero awareness. The rural people remain poorly educated, with basic knowledge of their mother tongue, so no amount of news and views reaches them barring the vernacular, politically aligned newspaper – which are hell bent on proving the greatness of their respective party banner.
As a result, nothing has changed much from the time when, I as a kid would romp around in my native village somewhere in Burdwan. One would still find a couple of community tube-well pumps for drinking water, there has been no addition over the years; one and a half party offices (one for Left Front and half for the opposition); and a bus stand. The additions over the past two decades are in the shape of a few electric poles that carries wires meant to provide electricity, but there are week long power-cuts; and a few bumps (road-breakers), each a phoenix, rising about ten inches from the cracked and bleeding road, for high speed buses to slow down for locals to get on or off. In terms of accomplishments, one man still tops the list. He cleared the WBCS Exams some fifty years ago – he still is the only man to have done so from that village. The current generation continues to be an apt reflection of those people that lived there a hundred years ago, and whatever I have seen during my travels to other parts of Bengal, villages across the rest of the map are no different. Rural ignorance has been an intended and manipulated situation on the part of Left Front strategy – and that’s one color.
Under such circumstances, one normally tends to turn to the urban people for some positive energy. But sixty years has failed to generate a single urban spot on the map of Bengal. Calcutta it was, Calcutta it still is – and we have the Union Jack to thank for that. Durgapur, Haldia, Asansol, Kharagpur, Malda and Siliguri, promising dark-horses at different points in time in history, remain waiting in anticipation even today, like the bride-to-be, whose prospective groom never turned up.
Was this also manipulated? Probably yes. The resultant generation that has sprouted from all these places is intellectually confused. Needless to say, Calcutta has over the years become remarkably indifferent. Key Bengalis have become tourists to their hometown, from far off Europe or America. The homogenous attitude of people across all of these urban or sub-urban areas is – We Don’t Bother. That’s the second color.
But there is a third and even deadlier hue, that, when gets to become a permanent color, can be the mother of all Singurs and Nandigrams put together. The fact that there is no worthwhile political opposition in the State. First, (and now seems) some million year ago there was Left Front – young, intellectually inclined, progressive and promising; to sum up – political hot-shots. But then they took over as rulers, and no one took over their erstwhile seat. Though it is not that the seat has been lying vacant ever since. For some time, the defeated Congress(I) made lot of usual noises as they settled down on the opposition seat. Gradually they realized that there’s more money in playing at a national level. As a result, they calmed down, save those mandatory blah-blah-ing every now and then as the rightful state opposition. The intellectual quotient of Left died two unique deaths. It died on the side of the opposition, because of the void created by the Leftists moving out from there. It then died within the Leftists, because they became the rulers.
Today, we have a mass of people that call themselves “the only solution to Left Front’s ‘hegemony’”. They have a vision that is confined only to thwarting the existing government. Nothing beyond. They are ridiculously leaderless, despite a leader; are agenda-less, barring dissident practices; and meaningless, despite lot of airtime and acoustic support. Their antics (yes, I call them so) remain desperately reactive in nature. Having been in the political map of the State for more than ten years now, they are yet to come up with a single proactive approach to an issue – detailed and defined down to the last parameter, something that is fool-proof and smells of focus on solution rather than pointing fingers at other party’s inefficiency. I am sure there are lots of issues lurking around every corner one cares to turn to. But the recorded approach to such issues has been the hackneyed ‘get us to power’ stance. An ad-campaign trying to say that they have an incredible pool of talent and stamina within to turn things upside down the moment their team assumes the mantle. I don’t know what amount of intellect the opposition of today has. But I have read Mr. Carl Sagan say, ‘extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence’. I know that the junta of West Bengal is yet to experience such evidence to the claims made.
It is not a thought to denounce the word ‘opposition’ in whatever forms it exist today, for it would be denouncing democracy; and I am not an anti-democracy character. It is also not a thought to denounce the opposition of today. At least they are there, trying to put their point across to the humungous and well-oiled machinery called Left Front, despite serious limitations. They are still holding ground when the likes of Congress (I) and BJP have literally fled from Bengal. Its just that I am a common man, who is not totally indifferent about the state of affairs, questioning the fact that why haven’t I ever seen the opposition leadership take up even a miniscule of a crisis, walk up to a TV channel, get some slot and present an analytic, fact and figure approach to solve the issue, abstaining from using the age-old phrase ‘bring us to power’ subtly or bluntly? Why is it that the ruling party gets away with Neanderthal ideas of how to run a state, something that has been questioned, criticized and crushed the world over? Why does it not get questioned here – why do we have to be so ‘different’ from the world? Why does everyone in the opposition assume that the vote bank, the rural mass is ignorant? Why does everyone overrule the fact that there might be some intelligence there, still? One might hit a goldmine there, but why doesn’t anyone try? What about a collective effort towards building the mental health of the people? Arming them with required knowledge and skills? Loosening the vice a bit, and going to the elections confident on the judgment of the voters afterwards? I am questioning the age-old, dilapidated, carton damaged and post-expiry date mentality of our political leaders – of old and young ones alike.
This color is disturbing and, if this state of the mighty oppositions continues for some more time, then it would be downright scary for all of us. We need to be scared that tomorrow, the once upon a time ‘culture’ capital of India, a place that was known to breed people with points-of-view, will be completely brainless. Scared, that no matter whichever government runs the State, the people will be shuttle-cork between stone-age ideologies and antic artists. In the whole bargain, we would all would grow old, but never really grow up.
It’s the moral duty of any socially active political opposition to try to bring about a change, and, the current opposition party in West Bengal can bring about a change in the existing mindset of the people. Why they have failed miserably so far is, because they are still based out of identical mentality that the Left front was some centuries(almost) ago, when they wanted to topple the Congress regime. That stance of impulsive, often violent opposition that was a characteristic of young and restless brains became synonymous to young Leftists, led by the likes of a highly intelligent Jyoti Basu. This doesn’t apply to the current opposition because the intelligence or credibility factor just does not exist among its leadership. The top leader of the opposition has had national portfolios on platters and she has kept resigning and has kept coming back home (probably homesickness, even I suffer from it), while someone as extremely controversial as Laloo Prasad Yadav has taken up one such leftover mess of hers and has converted that into an extremely profitable venture for the Govt. of India.
Going back to the impulsive and hot-headed variety of approach; this approach has become worn out, redundant, worthless ever since – probably the reason why Mr. Buddhadev Bhattacharaya is trying to re-adjust the Left Front’s brand image. It is sad that the opposition intelligence doesn’t appreciate that. In effect, they are just a different reflection of the Left front of yesteryears, operating out of the same political parameter that they operated out of, and giving the Politburo enough reasons to guffaw. In reality, an image never takes on the real figure. It wouldn’t be called an image then.
The mass maybe ignorant, but they possess sufficient instincts to comprehend that the 70s landed them up in today’s state. If this is to continue forever (for the underlying attitude of the leader and opposition are so similar), there is little point in risking their future, resources, and precious lives of near and dear ones, in trying to bring about a change. So to them, with the exception of a handful of fanatics, this whole chase fails to assume an appropriate dimension.
If the State has to grow up and not just grow older (aren’t we old enough already?), then the oppositions need to get worthier. How about taking a stock of the core attitude that underlines their party values and behavior? A realization of sorts that there is an urgent need to migrate from their existing set of attitude as far as possible, for they can ill afford to remain labeled the ‘other side of the same coin’ called Left Front. That achieved and cascaded successfully across all levels of membership can sensationalize the mind of the junta – we maybe ‘indifferent’ or ‘ignorant’, but we are not socially foolish. We have an acute sense of understanding ‘What-Is-In-It-For-Me’, that’s typically 21st century – the leadership can be sure about that. Then, the leaders of the opposition can think of constructive actions, not reactive or subversive in nature (I needed to spell that out), that is focused on upgrading the social status of the state. The fun that the oppositions can have is that they only have to make a SMART (specific, measurable, achievable, realistic and time-bound) presentation to the media and reach the maximum number of people(of course they can have their share of Brigade-Parade stomping, for that’s the birthright of every leader worth his/her khadi). Going by the way things are for the ruling party nowadays, this kind of a move might throw them off-balance. So when the opposition can claim kick-starting a process of ‘mass awareness’ for the first time in the history of modern and post-independent India, the rulers might feel the need to move their rear to survive. One-upmanship, tickling the ‘gone with the scotch’ intellect to resurrect, walking the talk etc can follow much later – but for the time being it will be a nice diversion from the TV screen full of primary school dropouts screaming slogans while setting buses on fire.
What happens to such prospective SMART presentations’ future? Well, first get the spreadsheets ready and start the process of building the bridge, we can cross it when it is built.
Flavors of India
There is a geographic sentiment in India, which is probably not so starkly visible anywhere across the globe. There are distinctive cultural nuances that take to make a Tamil a Tamil, a Punjabi a Punjabi or a Gujarati a Gujarati. And if you are an Indian, you are probably very sentimental about which city you were brought up or which part of the nation you hail from. Of course one has family values that one gets exposed to, from the small days of his childhood. One usually has a school to go to, where he learns about nations, civilizations, societies and great minds – but, he somehow portrays an imprint of the place he hails from. A place is probably one of the most significant intellect feed above all; and for someone like me, who’s had a dumb past, being from a place that’s least likely ever to get an entry to the record books as a place with its own point-of-view, a new city called Calcutta, where I had to move in twelve years ago, smiled when I was unimpressed with the way she looked.
It took me unusually long – seven years to be precise, before I realized that the city has grown inside me. And Calcutta had remained unusually patient during that span. This had happened because none of the two of us had a choice. I was interestingly daft for my age, the present day kids of mid-twenties are a testimony to that; and of all the virtues Calcutta has, patience was the top order requirement when it came to handle a grownup scatterbrained like myself. A decade now in the metropolis, I have a few larger than life reasons that make me indebted to this place. It is not just the memories that I carry with me as many would like to think or tend to do – for they are often the easiest of things to borrow from your past and feel good about the times you had. This city has taken my wanton state of mind in consideration, and has characteristically planted a series of thoughts that is to be mine for the rest of my life.
This city has taught me to take pride in being a Bengali, discounting the omnipresence of Tagore or Satyajit Ray. Being Bengali, as I have grown to understand, is a state of mind. There probably is no other community with so many distinctive facets that a Bengali can feel good/bad about – depending on whether he considers himself ‘in’ or ‘out’ of the rest of the society at large. Interestingly, after coming to appreciate the Bengali in myself, I have never felt the need to get an approval from the rest of the nation about my being ‘in-sync’ or not. Probably that reflects the pride factor in me. I thank Calcutta for that.
What’s in ‘being a Bengali’? Is it in expressing solidarity with Latin American culture and in reading about Balzac-Shakespeare-Marx? Is it in having a natural disregard of authority and for critically estimating everything? Is it in being under Communist rule for near-eternity; or is it about Monkey-cap, Keo Karpin and Sourav Ganguly – as many like to think? I say it is probably all and yet none of the above. Mastering Shakespeare is easy compared to culturing friendliness towards strangers. Reciting Wordsworth with carefree gaiety is effortless compared to faith in a belief that excessive wealth can have negative effect on a man’s character. And while there would always be a school of thought that would label Bengali as second-rate and hesitant competitors in the ‘real’ world, I would continue to believe that these opinions are kind of quick-fix ‘expert comments’ that tries to covers up the need to apply intelligence to even gauge this community marginally. Being Bengali is about understanding and striking a balance between money and peace of mind. In a world where one’s greatness is measured by the billions that he owns or the aggression that he shows, this series of ‘Bengali’ outlooks might seem incongruous, even incredible to all – but trust me, you will eventually bump into a wanderlust Bengali family taking their half-yearly vacation in Goa or Shimla, where they would give you sharply etched views about the state of the world, and would probably sing a folk song about birds flying home, with remarkable ease the next moment. The amount of awareness demonstrated, the apparent detachment towards the result, and the contentment with present is a combination that would leave you confused. That’s the joy Calcutta breeds in you – if you give in to the city and let it guide your soul.
What else has Calcutta done to me? She has made me realize that it is quintessentially in a Bengali’s nature to value warmth over indifference, mind over matter and contentment over restlessness. A friend of mine (not a Bengali), while pondering over a decision of mine to comeback to Calcutta from Delhi, where I am currently posted, asked me why I would want to leave such a ‘happening’ place like Delhi. My sole question to her was what exactly happens in Delhi. She had no concrete answer. And, speaking of the way I have seen other cities gets me one more reason to look up to this great city of joy. Delhi, for example, being the political capital of our country sharply reflects its political sheen to my eyes. Almost every common man that you fancy culturing would announce his proud connection with a MP or a commissioner or a counselor, or even a police officer – and demonstrate an attitude of being above the law. Bombay, our financial capital, equals to money. Part time works, share trading and sleepless nights, transactions and how, twenty-four by seven busyness… its money or nothing. And people couldn’t be less concerned about what your contacts are, as long you don’t possess the mother of all knockout punches. Bangalore and Hyderabad, India’s IT hubs, experience their personal nirvana in blind-worshipping US or European multinationals based out of an aren’t-they-great-to-have-employed-us attitude. Money remains crucial, but somehow the means assumes more important dimension than the end.
I feel exceedingly good that Calcutta is not bound by any of these categories. I feel happy seeing the father who buys farm fresh groceries everyday and the off-spring who grows up appreciating global literature – the only way to understand the concept of human civilization. I feel happy witnessing a footloose Bengali family whichever corner of the world I travel to – exploring, seeking, appreciating, but completely devoid of the greed to settle down to get a share of the pie. I am proud that when the rest of the country sings ‘e gori, thoda nachke dikha’, we still get our dosage of both local Minstrel and Woodstock Classics – live, at the same venue. I feel relieved witnessing that when speed assumes an all time high in our country, the Bengali community still lets the mind wander in the maze of art, drama, emotions and genuine humanity.
For blind critics of this ‘fish and rice’ clan – being Bengali is not about the community protests that one witnesses on TV when Sourav Ganguly is kept out of the team. It is not about industrial strikes and political bandhs either. It’s about the key thoughts that lead to such visible actions. It is about collective belief in the philosophy that a society or a state is essentially ours to build. To give in to whatever is being practiced can spell a disaster; and the negative forces at work might get away with it. For starters, India at 2007 doesn’t consider the erstwhile coach to be the best thing that happened to our cricket team. And India at early 2008 agrees to the fact that industrialization is good as long as it doesn’t narrow down or cut into the base of our societal/economical pyramid. Once again, what Calcutta thinks today, India thinks tomorrow.
Calcutta has taught me that being a Bengali is about being a conscience indicator. It is about questioning the obvious and at the same time it is about learning to appreciate the universal forces at work – through humans and through nature. My senses have thus developed breathing in a City whose culture is the culmination of the language, philosophy, music, poetry, film, drama, tarja, jatrapala of her land. Of Tagore, Nazrul, Jibanananda, Lalan, Satyajit, Amartya, Nati Binodini, Jahir Raihan, Rammohan, Vidyasagar and Vivekananda. The Hindu, Vaishnava, Islam, Buddhism, Brahmo Samaj, Atheism and Socialism. The Sufis and the Sadhaks. The kirtans, shyamasangeets, bauls and bhatialis. The Marxism, Secularism and Bhasha Andolan. The Titumir, Kano-Sidho, Birsa, Khudiram, Master-da, Bagha Jatin, Subhas Bose, Bhasani, Tebhaga, and Naxalbari. Permeated by an open society and free-thinking lifestyle. The quest for truth and the courage to challenge and question the unfounded. Calcutta has enlightened me with the history of struggle of more than a thousand years – the history of an incredible development of the human mind.
And by all of these, she has demonstrated that a city should have a representative mind of her geography, to help in constructive evolution of the personality of its dwellers. A city should be beyond just being ‘clean and green’, ‘dynamic’, or being ‘cool’. Cosmetic touches are skin deep. The mental health of a place is a sum total of the inexplicable network of history-religion-art-culture-tolerance and the resultant attitude that boils out of it. The forecast of the future lies in the past.
I am lucky I was mindless when I came here. I am also lucky that I was a lot younger twelve years ago.
It took me unusually long – seven years to be precise, before I realized that the city has grown inside me. And Calcutta had remained unusually patient during that span. This had happened because none of the two of us had a choice. I was interestingly daft for my age, the present day kids of mid-twenties are a testimony to that; and of all the virtues Calcutta has, patience was the top order requirement when it came to handle a grownup scatterbrained like myself. A decade now in the metropolis, I have a few larger than life reasons that make me indebted to this place. It is not just the memories that I carry with me as many would like to think or tend to do – for they are often the easiest of things to borrow from your past and feel good about the times you had. This city has taken my wanton state of mind in consideration, and has characteristically planted a series of thoughts that is to be mine for the rest of my life.
This city has taught me to take pride in being a Bengali, discounting the omnipresence of Tagore or Satyajit Ray. Being Bengali, as I have grown to understand, is a state of mind. There probably is no other community with so many distinctive facets that a Bengali can feel good/bad about – depending on whether he considers himself ‘in’ or ‘out’ of the rest of the society at large. Interestingly, after coming to appreciate the Bengali in myself, I have never felt the need to get an approval from the rest of the nation about my being ‘in-sync’ or not. Probably that reflects the pride factor in me. I thank Calcutta for that.
What’s in ‘being a Bengali’? Is it in expressing solidarity with Latin American culture and in reading about Balzac-Shakespeare-Marx? Is it in having a natural disregard of authority and for critically estimating everything? Is it in being under Communist rule for near-eternity; or is it about Monkey-cap, Keo Karpin and Sourav Ganguly – as many like to think? I say it is probably all and yet none of the above. Mastering Shakespeare is easy compared to culturing friendliness towards strangers. Reciting Wordsworth with carefree gaiety is effortless compared to faith in a belief that excessive wealth can have negative effect on a man’s character. And while there would always be a school of thought that would label Bengali as second-rate and hesitant competitors in the ‘real’ world, I would continue to believe that these opinions are kind of quick-fix ‘expert comments’ that tries to covers up the need to apply intelligence to even gauge this community marginally. Being Bengali is about understanding and striking a balance between money and peace of mind. In a world where one’s greatness is measured by the billions that he owns or the aggression that he shows, this series of ‘Bengali’ outlooks might seem incongruous, even incredible to all – but trust me, you will eventually bump into a wanderlust Bengali family taking their half-yearly vacation in Goa or Shimla, where they would give you sharply etched views about the state of the world, and would probably sing a folk song about birds flying home, with remarkable ease the next moment. The amount of awareness demonstrated, the apparent detachment towards the result, and the contentment with present is a combination that would leave you confused. That’s the joy Calcutta breeds in you – if you give in to the city and let it guide your soul.
What else has Calcutta done to me? She has made me realize that it is quintessentially in a Bengali’s nature to value warmth over indifference, mind over matter and contentment over restlessness. A friend of mine (not a Bengali), while pondering over a decision of mine to comeback to Calcutta from Delhi, where I am currently posted, asked me why I would want to leave such a ‘happening’ place like Delhi. My sole question to her was what exactly happens in Delhi. She had no concrete answer. And, speaking of the way I have seen other cities gets me one more reason to look up to this great city of joy. Delhi, for example, being the political capital of our country sharply reflects its political sheen to my eyes. Almost every common man that you fancy culturing would announce his proud connection with a MP or a commissioner or a counselor, or even a police officer – and demonstrate an attitude of being above the law. Bombay, our financial capital, equals to money. Part time works, share trading and sleepless nights, transactions and how, twenty-four by seven busyness… its money or nothing. And people couldn’t be less concerned about what your contacts are, as long you don’t possess the mother of all knockout punches. Bangalore and Hyderabad, India’s IT hubs, experience their personal nirvana in blind-worshipping US or European multinationals based out of an aren’t-they-great-to-have-employed-us attitude. Money remains crucial, but somehow the means assumes more important dimension than the end.
I feel exceedingly good that Calcutta is not bound by any of these categories. I feel happy seeing the father who buys farm fresh groceries everyday and the off-spring who grows up appreciating global literature – the only way to understand the concept of human civilization. I feel happy witnessing a footloose Bengali family whichever corner of the world I travel to – exploring, seeking, appreciating, but completely devoid of the greed to settle down to get a share of the pie. I am proud that when the rest of the country sings ‘e gori, thoda nachke dikha’, we still get our dosage of both local Minstrel and Woodstock Classics – live, at the same venue. I feel relieved witnessing that when speed assumes an all time high in our country, the Bengali community still lets the mind wander in the maze of art, drama, emotions and genuine humanity.
For blind critics of this ‘fish and rice’ clan – being Bengali is not about the community protests that one witnesses on TV when Sourav Ganguly is kept out of the team. It is not about industrial strikes and political bandhs either. It’s about the key thoughts that lead to such visible actions. It is about collective belief in the philosophy that a society or a state is essentially ours to build. To give in to whatever is being practiced can spell a disaster; and the negative forces at work might get away with it. For starters, India at 2007 doesn’t consider the erstwhile coach to be the best thing that happened to our cricket team. And India at early 2008 agrees to the fact that industrialization is good as long as it doesn’t narrow down or cut into the base of our societal/economical pyramid. Once again, what Calcutta thinks today, India thinks tomorrow.
Calcutta has taught me that being a Bengali is about being a conscience indicator. It is about questioning the obvious and at the same time it is about learning to appreciate the universal forces at work – through humans and through nature. My senses have thus developed breathing in a City whose culture is the culmination of the language, philosophy, music, poetry, film, drama, tarja, jatrapala of her land. Of Tagore, Nazrul, Jibanananda, Lalan, Satyajit, Amartya, Nati Binodini, Jahir Raihan, Rammohan, Vidyasagar and Vivekananda. The Hindu, Vaishnava, Islam, Buddhism, Brahmo Samaj, Atheism and Socialism. The Sufis and the Sadhaks. The kirtans, shyamasangeets, bauls and bhatialis. The Marxism, Secularism and Bhasha Andolan. The Titumir, Kano-Sidho, Birsa, Khudiram, Master-da, Bagha Jatin, Subhas Bose, Bhasani, Tebhaga, and Naxalbari. Permeated by an open society and free-thinking lifestyle. The quest for truth and the courage to challenge and question the unfounded. Calcutta has enlightened me with the history of struggle of more than a thousand years – the history of an incredible development of the human mind.
And by all of these, she has demonstrated that a city should have a representative mind of her geography, to help in constructive evolution of the personality of its dwellers. A city should be beyond just being ‘clean and green’, ‘dynamic’, or being ‘cool’. Cosmetic touches are skin deep. The mental health of a place is a sum total of the inexplicable network of history-religion-art-culture-tolerance and the resultant attitude that boils out of it. The forecast of the future lies in the past.
I am lucky I was mindless when I came here. I am also lucky that I was a lot younger twelve years ago.
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