Meeting Job Charnock ....finally.

Three years back when I was walking for the first time towards AG Bengal building, which was to be my new office, I was overwhelmed by the magnificent colonial structures all around the Dalhousie square. It was then that I noticed an old church round the corner. That day, I made a mental note to visit these buildings very soon …specially the church. Believe me, it took me three years to walk exactly 38 steps from my office to see the beautiful and historical St.John’s Church. I passed by its gate dozens of time, every time promising myself that I will come back to see the church building very soon…but it had to happen only today. Just now, when I narrated this tale to a fellow visitor at the church and he aptly quipped the saying :The nearer the church, the farther from God. But thank God that it happened before I say goodbye to Calcutta. It was wonderful to walk in the church compound on this lovely afternoon (I went there during lunch hour ) . It was a learning experience too .After all , till yesterday, I knew only three facts about this church.
One that It houses Job Charnock’s mausoleum. Two that there is a replica of Holwell Monument which was commissioned by Curzon and third that this was Warren Hastings church... even later Governor Generals’ too attended the Sunday masses here …after all it is bang opposite the east gate of Governor General’s house (now Raj Bhawan) . Just before leaving for the church, thanks to my ever-reliable Google, I found that there is a famous painting of The Last Supper by John Zoffany .

Replica of Holwell monument in memory of the Black Hole victims

So curious by all this trivia, and equipped with my soapbox camera , I walked inside the green compound of the church. The old building was looking regal in the afternoon glow and adding to the charm were the groups of birds chirping happily on the old trees of the campus .About two dozen cars were parked inside….no, not the visitor’s cars ..these are cars of people working in nearby offices and High Court. For them ,the Church compound provides a cheap option for car parking. As for visitors, there were hardly any. Besides me there were only two other people admiring the building .

The Last Supper by John Zoffany .

This church , which was built in 1787 and is believed to be the original parish church of Bengal, is located on an area of 8 bighas and 16 cottahs. Warren Hastings and Reverend William Johnson were said to be the prime movers behind its construction at an old burial ground that had been closed since 1676. The land belonged to a zamindar Raja Nabo Kishen Bahadur (of Shovabazar Royal Family) who donated this land to Church committee and Warren Hastings in 1783. On 6th April 1784 the work started and within three years the building was completed.
I was very keen about this church because of Job Charnock. A very interesting person by all counts. He was ,of course, the British trade administrator and is founder of city of Calcutta but what I find most interesting about him is his marriage. The circumstances under which he met his wife were romantic, astonishing and somewhat appalling too. It is said that one day Charnock and his associates saw the ritual of sati being performed on the banks of Hooghly. Charnock saw the woman about to be burnt with her husband’s body. Moved by the scene and possessed by the beauty of the young widow, he ordered his men to stop the ritual, dispersed the crowd of relatives and priests and seize the woman . The woman was taken to one of his apartments and after few days he married her. It is believed that he even embraced Hinduism to get his ladylove’s consent for the marriage . They had several children and spent many blissful years together. Job Charnock however, is not lying alone over here, in his grave. He shares this cemetery with several distinguished Britons and of course his beloved wife and two daughters are also buried here . His sculpture was made by his son-in-law Sir Charles Ayar around 1695. The sculpture is a unique specimen of art. There is a dome with a pitcher appended to it. There are also the tombs of the daughters of Charnock, the sculptures of British Admiral Watson who with Clive liberated/subjugated Calcutta in 1757, Lord Brabourne, Lady Canning and several distinguished persons.

Job Charnock’s mausoleum

Inside the church besides the famous paintings of The Last Supper by John Zoffany is a marvelous stained glass window and memorial tablets of prominent citizens through the ages. It was interesting to find Mary Magdalene leaning over Jesus’ shoulder in this version of The last Supper. I was suddenly reminded of the movie ‘DA VINCI CODE’ . But what I found even more interesting was a huge organ with its wooden wind pipes going up to the ceiling. It was placed just next to the pulpit and I was told that it was brought from Glasgow .Believe it or not it still plays with perfect notes.

The lovely wooden Organ

Another beauty was a marble statue of a lady which was donated by the merchants of Calcutta. I was lucky that another visitor familiar with the place was also there. He took me to the clock and bell tower and from the roof of the church I saw a very novel sight of my office building . The clock chimes announced 2.30 (Yes, this 300 year old clock is still functioning). And what an old church and cemetery is worth if there are no ghosts. So my fellow visitor informed me that there have been several 'sightings' of a man playing organ and a woman (who was beheaded and later buried in the campus )walking near the graves with her head on her hand... wooo....now that is not original... reminds me of the Legend of Sleepy Hollow .
The obelisk commemorating the black hole was moved from near the GPO to a corner of this graveyard. It is the earliest example of British masonry in India. Near the west wall is a replica of the Holwell Monument - originally erected at the site of the Black Hole of Calcutta. Those were the days of Governor General in council and the church contains the original furniture used for council meetings. It was brought from the Governor General’s house and is kept in the study of Warren Hastings the first Governor-general of India. The study is decorated with old oil paintings of the gentlemen who graced the room few centuries back . There are some old sketches of the church also kept here.

Thanks to the money received by World Heritage council in 2004 , the conservation work was going on for the church building and the cemetery .While present efforts are concentrating on conserving the exterior, reviving the clock and bell tower and cleaning the churchyard, subsequent phases will concentrate on the landscaping of the rest of the grounds and conservation of the mausoleums and tombstones there.
Let’s see when I can visit the next place in my list ..may be some other day during lunch hour . That is if my boss does not happen to read this post
You can find my pics from this visit here .

Appearing “Correct”

Last Sunday , The Times of India carried a hilarious article on Political correctness in Britain. It was a picture of a Britain in crisis, a Britain that has become hilariously ridiculous in the name of fairness, equality and general safety standards. So much so that they even have a movement called the Campaign Against Political Correctness…and what else one can expect if even the nursery rhymes are being modified to suit the modern notions of political correctness. I learnt from the article that in England these days, Three Wise Men become Three Wise Women, and on occasion, Baby Jesus in the manger is a girl. Gingerbread Man is now Gingerbread Person. The words 'manpower' and 'mankind' are not used anymore in some organizations. And, in the face of increasing gay rights, when a councilor joked that Noah could not have taken only animals of the opposite sex into his ark, angry members of the council demanded that he be sent to "compulsory equality training''. Burger King changed the swirls on its ice cream lids after one man complained that the swirls resembled Allah in the Arabic script. Last year, the Greater Manchester Police advised its officers not to arrest Muslims at prayer times during Ramzan. A hospital bans cooing at newborns because it violates the human rights of infants. Some newspapers spell black with a capital 'B' and white with 'w' in lower case. The Dudley Metropolitan Borough Council banished from its offices the image of Piglet from Winnie The Pooh so as not to offend Muslim sensibilities.
I wonder if in India we are also following suit our former colonial masters in making a joke of our public behavior. I am not a Madhuri Dixit fan…in fact I did not even bother to watch most of her blockbuster movies. But no one in his/her senses can justify the anger some of our veteran politician showed on one of the songs of her comeback movie. The message is that we will have to revise our sayings, our jokes and our songs also to ensure they do not mention caste . It seems Sudanese are not the only people angered by a teacher's innocent act of naming a teddy bear Mohammed …we ,in India, are just few steps behind. Today morning I read in the newspaper that a Sikh gentleman in Lucknow took offence of a sardarji SMS joke and filed a FIR against Mukesh Ambani , the owner of Reliance communications.The newspaper on this issue comments that jokes targeting communities should stop..after all we are a multiethnic community .Very soon it will be politically incorrect to laugh at a Sardarji joke or a mallu or a Gujju joke .As it is our media works with unwritten rule of not naming Muslim community in case of riots. it is usually a clash between two 'different' communities or a procession of “ minority community” which leads to curfew . Naming these communities may intensify the situation. And media is not the only ones going paranoid. Schools too are joining the brigade. Punishing students is a complete no-no. Even announcing merit list may give inferiority complex to some kids so its just grading of A,B,C in our modern day school boards. Children are not to be admonished for their mistakes and wrongdoings for all you know this may violate the child’s right to express himself. In government offices also we follow a similar correctness of behavior. In fact that is why I chose the name of my other blog “Being Officially Incorrect”. Sadly nobody is bothered how this official correctness is making our system inefficient and ineffective. Male superiors have to be doubly sure to reprimand inefficient female subordinates in office …as a sexual harassment complaint comes very handy in such cases . Even while holding disciplinary proceedings against a person belonging to “underprivileged” class one has to ensure that the inquiry officer is also of the same class. Any decision related to Muslims has to be taken taking care of their religious status …even when it is about a completely non-religious issue. And all these unwritten rules have authority of experience. There have been court cases and political campaigns on these issues and in the name of appearing correct our system has often ignored the apparent, the obvious and the known. Even in our movies dialogues and characters must follow these rules or else we have outfits in all communities to ensure protest and violence on the streets. This ridiculous political correctness has no end and moreover serves no real purpose.

Discrimination against disabled does not change anyways in its gravity by calling them “differently abled persons”. But then who cares ? The funny part is that all these right activists and moral police authorities go in such funny details that they miss the main point of their protest itself. Often the protests lead to a greater curiosity and hence free publicity to the so called violation. A fine example is protest on Deepa Mehta’s Fire. It was by all measures a very ordinary and let me say- boring movie. It would not have earned one tenth of its revenue had not Shivsena protested against it and thereby making it an issue for feminists and right-activists .I still remember how vehemently Madhu Kishwar was opposed when she said that Fire is a very ordinary and boring movie . Same is true about Taslima Nasreen’s books. She is a very ordinary writer and all her controversial books are a written with an aim to create controversy ….but thanks to Muslim organizations she is a known name in literary circles , her books made good profit and she is seen a victim of Islamic Fundamentalism for the cause of freedom of speech .

In America these days, it is a discrimination of the other extreme. After 9/11 in that country it is politically incorrect to trust Muslims. No American Authority can afford to be reasonable when Muslims are concerned. So anyone with a Muslim name is unwelcome. One of my friends from Bahrain wanted to appear for CIA exam for which the centre was in USA. He was denied visa thrice because he is 22 , male and Muslim . To make his crime worse his name is Mohammed ….a solid proof for the American agencies that he is linked to some or the other Terrorist outfit and thus a potential threat to the American People.

Help! What kind of prejudiced, artificial and lunatic world sans any sense of humour and ability to laugh at , we are heading for ? I too feel like joining the Campaign against Political Correctness and if that involves laughing at 'gender insensitive' jokes and using 'unparliamentary' language when one feels like then so be it.

Some Days are Diamonds .....

Finally I got the title for my post .This is from the song playing on my computer right now…and it reflects my mood very aptly. I had a wonderful day today. Indeed a Diamond –day . As it is , I love this period of the year. For one it’s the beginning of winter and also beginning of arrival of Birthday Cakes in the family . For two, this is the time when our garden in Lucknow used to be full of seasonal flowers and sitting there in the lawn, enjoying a good cup of ginger tea, daydreaming about life, was my all time favorite activity . Even in Calcutta one can feel the soothing sunshine and just a hint of winter but then on a weekday , you hardly notice the weather and its beauty. And sadly, weekends have a routine of their own.

I seldom take leave from office without any reason and the reason is usually my visit to Lucknow. But today was an exception. Few days back, I realized that I have most of my Casual Leaves unspent and its just one month before they lapse. Determined not to let that happen I took leave for a day just ike that and it was fabulous . One of the best things I have done in recent times. Such unexpected leaves on weekdays when everybody else is off to work are absolute pleasure. One can indulge in activities as and when one likes. My idea of ideal activities on such a day are :
1. Trying out that weird looking recipe which I once found in a cookbook
2. Arranging my wardrobe and enjoying the unexpected pleasure of finding some of my favorite dresses at the bottom of the shelf. Well , in fact this can also be a shocking experience if you happen to try a dress which used to fit “till the other day” and realize that now you’ve grown beyond it.
3. Reading old letters and replying to some . no no no…not emails. I am talking about post…in today’s terminology the snail mail, which I still love to receive and reply
4. Listen to all old favorite songs. You can have John Denver telling you what all he has been thinking about lately…and Pandit Jasraj recounting the glory of Mriganayani ka yaar.
5. Watching cartoons followed by a black and white movie .
6. Going to the nearby mall and buying things you DON’T need .
7. Going for vegetable shopping

8. Making flower arrangements
9. Reading old favorites in books and stories

10. and most favorite , looking out from the balcony and remembering old days...thinking nothing in particular..just admiring the glory of the day .

Today I could manage to do only some of these. I did some cooking . Prepared first Carrot Halwa of the season and also a favorite sweet chilly pickle with Kamy auntie’s recipe. I also read some old issues of Outlook Traveller . Watched Kishore Kumar starrer “Ek ladka Ek Ladki” and am listening complete Atu’s favorite Play list for the second time . Right now I am feeling very very happy and most irksome thought of the moment is that the day is almost over and tomorrow , as Scarlet O’Hara would have agreed , is another day…sadly an office day . So back to DP targets and Presentation for ADAI.

But then, all good things in life are short-lived. On the brighter side , I still have few more CLs with me and let’s see if I can use them as well. Now I know why some sensible government officer amde the rule that though leaves are not a matter of right, all government servants should be encouraged to take leaves. In the logjam of daily life one forgets how wonderful life is. So here is the title song for the post ,…some days are diamonds some days are stones… hope this will inspire you too , to enjoy doing 'nothing in particular ' for a day or two . The message of the day is :

“Don't underestimate the value of Doing Nothing, of just going along, listening to all the things you can't hear, and not bothering."

Intoxication , philosophy and a candid life....

मिट्टी का तन, मस्ती का मन, क्षण भर जीवन, मेरा परिचय

(A body of clay, a mind full of play, a moment’s life - that is me).

This is how Harivansh Rai Bachchan introduced himself . He was born exactly 100 years back on this day . Though today's generation will know him as father of superstar Amitabh Bachchan and grandfather of Abhishek Bachchan , he attained the fame which very few poets in Hindi can boast of. He lived a candid life and the reflections of his sorrows, achievements and joys are found in his poems.

जो छुपाना जानता तो जग मुझे साधू समझता

शत्रु बन मेरा गया है छल रहित व्यवहार मेरा "

His poems are so real, so close to life that they are still recited in literary societies, in students' hostels and even in mainstream movies. His great collection 'Madhushala (मधुशाला)' is perhaps the most quoted book of modern Hindi poetry . While thousands know about him and his 'Madhushala' most are not sure about his place in literature. Till about 1975, he was a phenomenon to reckon with, but after that he was ostracised as belonging to a non-literary world (perhaps because of the rising glory of his son in the Bollywood) and no attempt was made to seriously evaluate him as a poet.In Harivansh Rai, the neglect caused a side-effect. He learnt to depend for his inspiration more upon his readers and committed audiences and built an unprecedented relationship with them. .
Reacting to critics' prejudices, Bachchan had in 1973 declared his retirement from poetry. He had announced it formally in his address to his readers in the last volume of his poem titled Jaal sameta where he wrote
जाल समेटा करने में भी वक्त लगा करता है मांझी ,

मोह मछलियों का अब तो तो छोड़ ...

"It takes time in closing the day(arranging the net) O fisherman, leave your desire for more fishes now"

He also promised to his readers in a different medium such as prose. By that time, Bachchan's first two volumes of the autobiography were already published and his reputation as a prose-writer was established. After some years, when the other two volumes were published, even his worst critics could not ignore him. Yet for most of them he was a better prose-writer than a poet. As against the belief that he was a poet of private pain, he was indeed a poet of joy. And 'joy' was indeed the nickname that he had given to his first wife 'Shyama'. Even his poems of sorrow collected in 'Ekant Sangeet' and 'Nisha Nimantran' have an intimation of joy and beauty, and by the time the poems of 'Milan Yamini were published, in which the lovers meet and meet, the joys of life can be seen as real and palpable. Harivansh Rai Bachchan cannot be dismissed simply as a popular poet. Talking like a common man, he was really a serious-minded poet. Of all his writings, his 'Madhushala' is the most misunderstood. This is no celebration of wine, which Bachchan never touched. It was in fact a comment of the social hypocracies and behaviour by taking wine as a metaphor . Listen to a part of it here . As a salut to this great poet and writer I want to share these beautiful lines from his pen:

मैं कितना ही भूलूँ, भटकूँ या भरमाऊँ,

ही एक कहीं मंजिल जो मुझे बुलाती ही,

कितने ही मेरे पाँव पड़े ऊंचे-नीचे,

प्रतिपल वह मेरे पास चली ही आती ही,

मुझ पर विधि का आभार बहुत-सी बातों का।

पर मैं क्र्ताजं उसका इस पर सबसे ज्यादा -

नभ ओले बरसाए, धरती शोले उगले,

समय की चक्की चलती जाती ही,

मैं जहाँ खडा था कल उस थल पर आज नहीं,

कल इसी जगह पर आना मुझको मुश्किल है,

ले मापदंड जिसको परिवर्तित कर देतीं

केवल छूकर ही देश-काल की सीमाएँ

दे मुझपर फैसला उसे जैसा भाए

लेकिन मैं तो बेरोक सफ़र में जीवन

इस एक और पहलू से होकर निकल चला।

जीवन की आपाधापी में कब वक़्त मिला

कुछ देर कहीं पर बैठ कभी यह सोच सकूँ

किया, कहा, माना उसमें क्या बुरा भला।

Being girlish and loving it...

This Saturday I read an interesting article in The Telegraph titled “ What’s Girlie Still” .In the age of unisex salons and a metrosexual man , this article was talking about few things which still remain stubbornly girlish...pink drinks,giggling and the like . Though a proud owner of a Pink Blog…I must confess that all things girlie are seemingly under serious threat in today’s world. Crying, giggling blushing, fainting and cribbing does not come very naturally to most of us anymore. However much we wow at Audrey Hepburn and Scarlet O’Hara, Madhubala and Saira Banos in our weekend matinees ,we no longer want to look like them. It’s the age of powerpuff girls. So from the celluloid divas to the girls next doors, no one cares for looking/sounding girlish anymore. There was a time when my elder sister had to face several critical glances and raised eyebrows for wearing jeans and flaunting boy cut hairstyle all the time . Then women like her were called tomboyish. And now everyday I watch more and more twenty somethings walking carelessly in blue jeans and white shirts , talking in very matter of fact tone , comfortable in talking about all topics from stock market to dirty jokes , sitting casually in roadside joints and looking more and more similar to boys of similar age. So Sania mirza was just representing her generation of girls when her T shirt declared that “Well behaved women seldom make history”. What is even more interesting is that the whole world is getting so used to this idea that no one is missing the coy , girlish damsels . So much so we find more and more moms and aunts are also equally comfortable in similar attire and attitude.

Being part of this generation W, I take pride in their attitude and style .I admire them for their ability to exist and succeed even in typically very male domain of things .But hold a sec, look carefully and you’ll find the same girls equally at ease while flaunting strawberry pink chiffon and chandelier earrings. Jane Austen is still a favorite with most of us and so are all things pink. We still give a second glance to the dress every other lady is wearing in the room and yes, shopping is a great amusement for us. Some of us may be hopping from one relationship to other with equal ease like the males of our species , we still expect our men to be courteous and caring . Though many of choose to be curt and formal at workplace , we can be very charming and witty when we want to be so. So should we conclude that men are still from mars and women form venus .
Nay…I guess it is much more than that kind of simple logic .My conclusion is that women in last few decades have evolved much more than men .They now excel in many new areas of life and are still capable of being very feminine..very true to their stereotypical role in the society. Though many find true expression of themselves in not being so woman-like all the time . In a nutshell, we have gathered more good traits from men than they have learnt from us. Their changes are still very cosmetic.... Well, to be fair on the other sex I must confess that they are also trying the things typically marked 'women-only'. O yes, many men are now very comfortable in household chores and some even watch those teary soap-operas , husbands are not what they used to be and a good percentage of men do try to appear metrosexual.Even market has acknowledge this change. The ‘Because You’re Worth It Too’ anti-wrinkle campaign by L’Oreal is a fantastic example. It shows a man in his thirties, the camera zooms in on his face and the voice over says: ‘What you think are great lines, she thinks is premature aging!’ Whack ! There goes your self-image. You’re not aging well. You’re no Sean Connery or George Clooney. You’re ugly or at least on your way there. But not to fear, once your self-esteem is destroyed, you can buy the new Men’s Expert by L’Oreal Paris line of products to rebuild it...so while your fairness cream for men will do wonders the antiwrinkle cream will make you a decade younger . Hello brother...welcome to the she-domain of things .

But despite all these, I still agree with what I read on a coffee mug in a gift shop—“Behind every successful woman there is a very surprised man” . Stereotypes are breaking- very slowly but every clearly. Men also gossip. they also shop …they also dress up and some of the daring ones even have pink pyjamas . But all said and done, most of them are finding it a hard task to deal with the powerpuff girls of today. The old mantras of red roses and teddy bear may not work for many of them ..... And Nike shoes and T shirts still sound strange for valentine gifts.

So is the time ripe for writing obituaries for all things girlish . Well, I for one, am very optimistic about how things are going and as its my dream to own a lovely pink car very soon , I will also expect my male friends and colleagues ( even my husband) to see me driving my car and say “ Sooooo cute” .

As I walked out one evening

This is a poem by W.H.Auden which I found thanks to my hubby dear , who read out this poem to me last evening. Do you wonder at times what can be those "things of beauty" which are "joy for ever" in our day to day life . If I start counting "few of my favorite things" some feel good books, some old snaps , some melodious songs and poems like these will top the list . They are truly joy forever. I think of these writers and poets ...singers and composers ., and I want to cry. With admiration and with inspiration. I think of the purity of passion and absolute sincerity to their conscience with which they composed these 'beauties', and I feel so tall with happiness , courage and energy. Here it goes.....

As I walked out one evening,
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
Were fields of harvest wheat.

And down by the brimming river
I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
'Love has no ending.'

I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street,

'I'll love you till the ocean
Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
Like geese about the sky.

'The years shall run like rabbits,
For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
And the first love of the world.'

But all the clocks in the city
Began to whirr and chime:
'O let not Time deceive you,
You cannot conquer Time.'

In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.

'In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
To-morrow or to-day.'

Into many a green valley
Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
And the diver's brilliant bow.

'O plunge your hands in water,
Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
And wonder what you've missed.'

The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
A lane to the land of the dead.

'Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
And Jill goes down on her back.

'O look, look in the mirror,
O look in your distress:
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.

'O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart.

'It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
And the deep river ran on.

Calcutta :Lost and Found

For last three years I was searching for the Calcutta I had read about . The city with a heart- the city with a soul and the cultural capital of India. Unfortunately it was nowhere to be seen . Not that there was any dearth of the 'bhadralok' look-alikes with that quintessential Jhola, unshaven look and the typical interest in anything political. And of course you will find so many activities around you like drama , dance, exhibitions and protests to keep this city busy and buzzing ... but something was missing…..these were just dummies of the real things and people. There was very little soul in these hapenings . At the individual level you may meet several known and unknown faces who can inspire you with their simplicity, their knowledge , their childlike believe in the world and their idealism…but as a group or a community these feelings, those ideals were missing. It was only a show off , an excuse to make 'connections', a mask to ‘appear’ intellectual /idealistic …an attempt to improve their CV to get a recommendation for an US university .
Even the much hyped adda was not all that comforting for my foreign ears . Most of it was just talk with some preconceived ideas/images of greatness of the city and its people which was just not there anymore . . E.g. I found nothing great in the protest that one or the group/party was staging against issues as vague as “globalization”, 'capitalism' etc. They talk like parrots about Marxism, about class struggle , about how CPM is the greatest thing happened to them and also how other states are far backward than their own . I found nothing impressive in broken roads and ugly tea shops which I was told are the hub of activities . In reality one finds that even these big mouths are as selfish as their much abused enemies “the bourgeois”...their party is as opportunistic as the fanatic rightist political parties and their work culture far worse than many other states condemned by them . I was almost prepared with an elegy for the lost world of Calcutta –the city of intellectuals . I expressed my anguish at the forced strikes and the culture of Bandhs few days back in a previous post and as I was telling in the beginning of that post….. life chose that precise moment to outsmarted me once again. So when I was lamenting the lost idea of “city with a soul” ….Nandigram happened…and to my surprise, the city changed its colour almost overnight .

It started in the usual way – the bandh…the protest….burning of effigies and I thought it will die its natural death and everybody will sit in the neighborhood tea shop in front of party office claiming victory .But no….the game had just begun this time. Many known film personalities boycotted the Calcutta Film Festival and so did many ordinary film buffs, students and workers – something which was unthinkable in this city. They were going against the government and more importantly THE PARTY . In a place where everything related to your existence depends at the mercy of the party and its pet goons – it was just unimaginable. The people taking out silent march and being beaten by the police were not of any political party…they were very common very ordinary people like us. Celebrities were there of course-risking their career and prospects but more touching was the participation of students and teachers, shopkeepers and artists . In this city so far I had only seen the George bush philosophy being applied by the left parties- either you are with us or against us . But yesterday the old Calcutta rose from its ashes and gave a tight slap on the face of its masters of three decades. The monopoly of political parties over the masses was broken yesterday when thousands poured into the heart of Calcutta to condemn the manner in which CPM cadres recaptured Nandigram. Everyone I know from this city was there in the march - my friends from research Institutes, lecturers from colleges and even housewives. Read about this people’s protest here - Clarion call of conscience heard in silent march through city heart
I have no idea if it was just a short-lived wave of sympathy or a new era ushering in this god forsaken land of Bengal …but it was very touching to see the good old face of Kolkata I had visualised from the history books – the city of thinking individuals.