In the land of Lord Jagannath

The view of the sea from our hotel room on the first day.

On my first evening on the beach at Puri, with my flying umbrella.

That's one of the sand-built structures, the figure of a woman, which some people make on the beach everyday.

A sign on Swargodwar beach prohibits people from bathing there without a 'noliya's' help. And, Swargodwar is the place where people ignore this sign the most without any sort of hesitation!

A portion of the 'Natmandir' wall of the Sun Temple at Konark, showing the dance postures.

My parents and I in front of one of the wheels of the temple.

Raja Narashingha Deb, who had taken the initiative to build the Sun Temple, can be seen here with his queen.

One of the carvings at Konark shows Shravana carrying his blind old parents.

The slab at Konark showing that to preserve the structure, the interior was filled in by the order of the Lieutenant Governor of Bengal in 1903 AD.

The sea at Chandrabhaga

That's supposed to be Lord Jagannath's paternal aunt's house. Anyway, whoever lives there sure has a lovely place to live in. Who doesn't want to have such a nice house?

My parents on 'New Marine Drive', the continuation of the Swargodwar beach.

A camel on the beach at Puri

Last Saturday, I went to Puri with my parents. We had decided that we would visit Puri once my mother’s work would be over and my summer vacation would begin. So, our train berths and hotel room had been reserved a lot earlier because loads of people go to Puri during this time of the year and it would have been very difficult to get places on the train and also in a hotel without advance reservations. Thus, according to our plans, we reached Puri on Sunday morning after catching the Saturday night Puri Express from Howrah Station. I had never been to Puri before and so, was very excited. I had been told that the kind of waves of the sea at Puri cannot be seen anywhere else in India. They are huge and majestic. Well, I first saw those waves this time and I have to admit that they really are more beautiful than those of the water bodies in other places. But, as it was raining when we reached Puri, I first saw the sea of Puri in its tumultuous form. It was only drizzling but that drizzle was enough to raise the waves higher than usual. And, the sea was beautiful!Our hotel was situated on ‘Swargodwar’, the beach road of Puri. So, the location was obviously fantastic and we were very lucky to get a sea-facing room. That helped us because we did not venture out on the first day owing to the rain and yet, we could watch the sea sitting in our room! I just went for a short walk along the beach with my father that evening and we had to hold on to our umbrellas tightly to prevent them from being blown away by the wind!
Next morning, we first paid a visit to the Jagannath Temple, which apart from the deity’s presence, is a pretty horrible place. Yet, my parents said that it had been twice more horrible when they had visited it some twenty years ago. According to them, the pandas at the temple had been more authoritative then. Well, whatever might have been the situation then, the situation now isn’t exactly pleasant. The pandas just wait there to trap you and make money.I thought that the weirdest of all the pandas was this one. Now, he was standing with two sticks in his hand ,beating everyone on the head with those sticks as they were leaving the temple and then, demanding money from them! Later on in the day, we took a bath in the sea. J It was a wonderful experience. The waves came splashing and washed us over and over again. All around us, people were shouting with delight . But, contrary to what I had heard, no one was taking the help of the ‘noliyas’ or guards to take a bath. People were confidently standing or sitting or lying down or performing all sorts of aerobatics as the waves were crashing in and submerging them completely. There are three watch-towers on the beach but it didn’t seem as though the three policemen were watching over anybody .They were simply sitting there all day. Poor fellows, their job must be boring!
During our five-day trip, we also visited the famous Sun Temple at Konark. An hour-and-a-half’s drive from Puri takes you to Konark. The temple boasts of great art and architecture, seeing which one must utter the word, ‘Wow’. The main structure consists of the temple, which is actually a chariot, all carved out of sandstone. The chariot has twenty four big wheels and on the spokes of each wheel, different stages of different activities of those times had been carved . The temple has three idols of the Sun God, representing childhood, youth and old age respectively. Other than the wheels, there are numerous carvings on the walls of the temple, the chariot and a hundred and twenty eight dance postures on the walls of the ‘Natmandir’. The Natmandir and the Conference Hall are separate structures, located just beside the temple. On the way to Konark, the sea disappears but reappears for a short distance at Chandrabhaga. The sea there is just like that at Puri, but the colour might just be a tad bit different and more like a river’s colour.
In the evening, Swargodwar becomes extremely lively with all types of stalls that are set up on the beach. They all use very bright lights and sell everything . Tea, sweets, chat, clothes, pearls, idols, conch shells, bags and what not! People also opt for rides on camels and ponies and there are merry-go-rounds for children. Besides these, there are some very talented people who build beautiful structures out of the sand on the beach. All these activities go on all over the long and sprawling beach.
But, the food at Puri was a huge disappointment. We tried different restaurants and different menus, but the quality of the food is just not upto the mark. The chicken is too spicy, they can’t cook the vegetables properly, they have only one type of curry for all fishes, the ‘puri-bhajji’ is always served cold and its best to not even talk about the idli-vada. Yes, we tried everything but were not satisfied. One can’t expect the food to be like that of ‘Mainland China’ everywhere but there has to be a minimum standard, which is terribly lacking at Puri.
We were lucky that Puri was not affected by Cyclone Aila. The rain of the first two days cleared up on the third day and the weather became quite pleasant, specially in the evening.

Rabindra Jayanti celebrations

Last week, I was busy with the birthday celebration of that great, great man; the one and only Rabindranath Tagore. A function was held in our school yesterday on the occasion of his 149th birthday and some students from Class XII, including me, performed the 'Pancharghya', which consisted of three poems and five songs from five of Tagore's stages, namely Puja, Swadesh, Prem, Prakriti and Bichitro. So, from last Monday to Friday, we rehearsed a lot and tried to make sure that everything was perfect. After the first stage rehearsal on Thursday though, we were criticized like anything by three teachers for giving such a 'dull' performance. We were told that our singing quality was very very poor and that we would have to increase the pace of each song because we were taking up too much time. Earlier, when we had made them listen to our poem recitations and songs, they had not pointed out our mistakes. But, that day, with just a day to go for the function, they said that we would not be allowed to perform on Saturday if our condition did not improve. We obviously were very upset and very angry but we are from the seniormost class. This was the last time when we could have performed for our school. So, with a lot more determination, we corrected ourselves the next day and were successful. The same teachers could not point out any mistake anymore! What's more, we took only ten minutes for our performance. Its true that we could sing only the first two stanzas of each song and recite only two stanzas from only three poems instead of five, but we were happy.

And on Saturday,that is,the day of the function, we simply rocked on stage. Yes, the other performances by the junior classes were also good, but we were undoubtedly the best. From Class XII, we had Sukanya and Souvik to say a few words about each of the stages before we recited a poem or sang a song from them. We sat down on the stage in the form of a semi-circle, with Sukanya and Souvik forming one end of the semi-circle. Next to them, sat Debjyoti, Debasish, Asmita and Debarati, who recited the poems and after that sat Basav, playing the tabla. Basav thus divided the students who recited, from those who sang, that is, me, Samprita, Arpita, Sreshtha, Archisman and Arittra. We were praised a lot by the other teachers for our superb coordination, our performance and also our looks. Yes, our looks because all the girls had to wear saris on the occasion while the boys had to don kurtas and pyajamas. I was a bit nervous; no extremely nervous, after wearing the sari. It was probably the second or third time that I wore a sari yesterday. But, considering that, I managed my sari quite well although I had to do it only for a couple of hours.

I have never received formal singing lessons. But, I still agreed to sing yesterday because if I try, I can manage to sing certain Rabindrasangeets pretty neatly and in tune. The second and more important reason was, of course, the last opportunity to perform for the school. That was the reason which united us and a unique spirit of friendship prevailed. The memories associated with this function will be one of the sweetest of my school life. Among ourselves, there was an unsaid sense of cooperation right from the first day of the rehearsals. It didn't seem then that we study in different sections of Class XII or that we come from differerent schools and have known one another for just a year or so since our admission to Class XI. There was always this feeling that no matter what else we are, we are the seniormost students of this school, we are friends and we have to perform together; we have to give our best.

That's the 'Pancharghya' team in action on stage(left)

(above left to right): Basav, Arittra, Archisman, Souvik

(left, from left to right): Asmita, Sreshtha and Arpita

(above) Me and my mother :-)

Life sucks

There are some good reasons behind the above title. I have started feeling the pressure of Class XII even before a month has passed since the beginning of the new session. Its not that I am not studying, but no matter how much I try to convince myself that my studies are getting on quite well and there is still ample time left, every evening, the pressure seems to mount a bit more. I have no idea as to why this is happening, but I just can't seem to be perfectly satisfied with my efforts.

Then again, I feel that this irritating , extreme heat is responsible for making me tired. After school gets over at 1.45 p.m. , when the sun is at its cruellest, I have to rush to my tuitions. The worst part of it is that I have to take my lunch in between and nothing is as difficult as eating in that afternoon heat in front of the school church. So, when I finally return home at around 4.30 p.m. , I can't concentrate on my studies beyond 9 o' clock and start feeling sleepy! But, the routine is going to turn worse from tomorrow. Our dear, dear , generous principal has fixed new school timings and the new school hours are from 7.35 a.m. in the morning to 12 noon. What an idea sirjee! As if there is no sun in the sky at 12 noon! For me, the more detestable part is that I have to get up earlier in the morning. The school gates will close at 7.20 a.m. To think that previously, I used to sleep till 7.10 or 7.15 in the morning! At least, the mornings would be comfortable and I would get ready easily in twenty minutes to reach school by 8 a.m.

And these elections and the Election Commision and their thousand and eighty seven rules are making my mother's life miserable. There is nothing new about her being busy during the elections but she has this crazy boss this time, who started making the entire staff work round the clock two months prior to the election. So now, they are all tired and of course, this heat is making them all feel worse. In a five phase election, elections in this city and North and South 24 Parganas had to be held in the last phase. Why could they not have been in the first or second phase? At least, my mother's troubles would be over soon.

So, in short, my life really sucks at present...

The sea is 'lovely, dark and deep'

This is also a hand and mouse drawing , but I somehow think that my previous works were better. But, of course, that is for all of you to decide. :-)

Two people who mean a lot to me

And, those two people are my maternal grandparents(picture above). This March, I have not been reading books only although my previous two posts suggest so. I have also been visiting my dear grandparents regularly.

My grandmother is, without doubt, a very good cook and the dish which she is preparing in this picture is, specially, for me.:-)

My grandfather before lunch

My grandmother has a lovely garden and in this picture, you can see her caring for her pumpkin plant. For her, every job , no matter how big or small, has to be perfect with a capital P.

The picture above shows a pumpkin on my grandmother's pumpkin plant. She is very proud of her pumpkins now-a-days!

The tiger, The duality, The waves, The murder

This March, I am determined to finish reading seven books, having nothing else, or almost nothing else to do!

So, after reading 'The Kite Runner', I began with 'The White Tiger', written by Aravind Adiga and winner of last year's Man Booker Prize. Its about how Balram Halwai, a rickshaw-puller's son from a remote village of India, climbs the ladder of success. But,this success is not the kind of one which we watch in most movies or what we dream of. This success is entirely propelled by corruption, both of the Indian political system as well as of Balram himself. In fact, its the miserable political situation around Balram that makes him corrupted. Balram narrates his story in a letter to a Chinese Premier , who is supposed to be visiting India shortly. He tells the Premier that whatever information about India's democracy will be given to him by the Indian Prime Minister by means of a booklet during his visit, is not true. The ways in which certain magazines tell us how to become an entrepreneur in seven days, are actually not going to bring success.Balram knows India's "democracy" and he also knows how to become an entrepreneur in seven days, but through totally different means. So, over a period of seven nights, Balram tells the Premier how he became an entrepreneur in Bangalore. With every passing night, we slowly proceed from Balram's backward village life to his life as a driver in the village to his life as a driver in the capital city of Delhi and finally as an entrepreneur in the technological hub of Bangalore. The idea of the author to present him as a driver is very good because that's how Balram easily gets to know all the places where his employer goes and the kind of people he meets. He observes the city and its people very well and gets to know more from the other old drivers.

The way the author presents the story is , I think , his greatest achievement .A lot can be written about Inida's corruption and the futility of democracy if the people are illiterate.Among such writings, only those can be hailed as good which have something new in them. In the case of 'The White Tiger', that novelty lies in its presentation. But, its has its follies and of them is that the suspense of the story is lost at a much earlier stage because of Balram's confession of what he did eight months later. As he confessed his crime so early during those seven nights, the drama leading up to his crime didn't seem so interesting and the things depicting his inner conflict became bland. But, this crime is the most important incident of the novel and because of a fault in its narration, I did doubt whether the novel was worthy of the Booker Prize or not.

The other stories which I finished reading during the past week are 'The Strange case of Dr.Jekyll and Mr.Hyde' and 'The Merry Men' by R.L.Stevenson. The first one is, of course, brilliant and the second one is not bad either. Everyone knows all about the first one. The second one deals with the adventures of a man on a dangerous islet while trying to find a treasure which had been present inside a ship that had been wrecked by the sea waves near the islet. These destructive sea waves are themselves 'the Merry Men' and they can rise to a height of fifty metres. Though the story is mostly dominated by long descriptions of the islet,the waves and the situation around each time the man goes to find the treasure, its pretty engaging.

Besides these, I also read 'Murder on the Orient Express' by Agatha Christie . Now, this is only the first time that I read one of Christie's works and I am afraid I didn't like it much. The story was very good and everything was in order but the ending was so poor. It lacked that final magical touch of a Sherlock Holmes story where all the clues and all the facts fit so wonderfully into one another. Somehow, Hercule Poirot didn't impress me as much as Sherlock Holmes.But, I am sure that Christie's other works are better than this , otherwise she would not have been such a popular author. So, I intend to read more of her books in future.

The Kite Runner

'The Kite Runner', written by Khaled Hosseini, is a novel based on Afghanistan, describing the plight of the Afghans over a quarter of a century. The readers see that plight through the eyes of Amir, the narrator. Amir is the son of a rich and very respected man of Kabul in the 1970s. But, as Amir grows up, he doesn't live up to the expectations of his father. It becomes clear that he has not inherited any of his father's talents and interests but is completely like his mother, who had died while giving birth to him. On the other hand, there is Hassan, their servant's boy who had not got the joy of seeing his mother either. Hassan's father had served Amir's family for forty years. Hassan was mainly Amir's playmate and did Amir's chores. Although Amir and Hassan were the best of friends, Amir noticed that Hassan was more courageous than him, too loyal to describe in words and was somehow loved by his father greatly, probably even more than his father loved him. So, Amir was desperate to win the local kite-fighting tournament in the winter of 1975 to prove a point to his father, to prove that he was worthy of being his father's son.

A kite runner , by the way, is someone who tries to run and gather the kites that fall from the sky after being snapped. Running along with many other boys and beating them all in the chase for the fallen kites and finally holding the kite triumphantly, also happens to be a very important part of the tournament. The one who gets the last kite to have fallen at the end of the kite-fighting, is considered to be almost equal to the one who wins the kite-fighting tournament. Now, Amir won the tournament and as the last kite fell, Hassan ran through the streets of Kabul to fetch it for Amir so that would get the double honour of both winning as well as possessing the last fallen kite. But, what happened to Hassan on that day is the event around which the entire novel revolves. He was sexually assaulted by three other boys. Although Amir went looking for Hassan and finally found him completely cornered by those three boys and on the verge of facing some painful, humiliating moments, Amir did not protest. He just runs away like a coward, being too scared of the other boys. But, when Hassan came home that night, the kite was still with him and he handed it over to Amir...

After that, Amir and his father were forced to flee to America when the Russians invaded Afghanistan. We see how Amir completes his studies there, gets married and gradually manages to bury his guilt about Hassan in the peaceful life that he leads there. But, what he does not get there is redemption. And,so, when Rahim Khan, their old and very close family friend calls him up to say that he is dying in Peshawar, Amir goes to Peshawar to see him. It is then that a whole lot of secrets about Hassan and his life after the Russian invasion are revealed to Amir and it is then that Amir decides to search for Sohrab, Hassan's now orphan kid. I will not give away the end of the story here, in case some of you have not read it. But, the story is so purely beautiful. I don't remember having liked a story so much after reading the Harry Potter books. And, now, this one is right up there with Harry Potter, being my most favourite book. It describes the relationship between two people, one belonging to the Pashtun tribe of the Afghans and the other to the Hazara tribe, one the cowardly master and the other , the ever-loyal servant and friend. As the story nears its end though, one does not find Amir a coward anymore. The Amir-Hassan persona seems to mingle in the end , with the words, " For you a thousand times over", being spoken by Amir just as they had been uttered by Hassan on that winter day when he had run that kite for Amir and the ending could not have been more perfect in this heart-wrenching tale.

Speaking of heart-wrenching, the novel also has another aspect. The readers learn about Amir, Hassan and Sohrab through the years when Afghanistan passes from one ruling hand to another. When Amir describes his and his father's journey to Pakistan in a fuel tank while fleeing from Afghanistan, the suffocation, the sufferings of the people crowded in the tank, the pitch blackness, I just felt that I could not read any more of that. Amir's American life, is , of course, way better and at one point, I didn't feel as though I was reading the same book. It was as though I had suddenly shifted to some other book. Yes, it becomes a bit boring also with the narrations about Amir's falling in love, every detail about his marriage, details of his wife's past life, about their not having children and about deciding not to adopt any children. But, when Amir again enters Pakistan and then, Afghanistan, I feel that the author was probably trying to keep the readers relaxed so that they would be able to overcome the shock of reading about Russian-invaded Afghanistan and fully absorb the bigger shock of reading about Taliban ruled Afghanistan. How can someone be so brutal and inflict such suffering on fellow humans and on those little children? Their terror becomes clear when the author says that although there are lots of children in Afghanistan, there is no childhood. Fathers are a rare commodity there. There are many more such heart-wrenching sentences in the book , describing a nation completely devastated, with the worst sufferers being the children. So, I feel that we are all very lucky. We get three good meals every day, have sufficient clothing and a concrete roof above our heads. Besides these, we have plenty of other things and yet, we waste everything. We have experienced all the joys of childhood while millions of Afghan children haven't and yet, we complain about the most minor things. After reading the novel, this situation seems very unfair and justice doesn't seem to be even-handed at all...

Of millionaires and books

With a lot of hope and expectation, I finally caught the morning show of 'Slumdog Millionaire' yesterday. It was certainly worth a watch, primarily because of the performances. The supporting child cast was even better than the adult actors. The boy who played the role of the teenaged Salim, the protagonist's brother, was awesome. In fact, the character of Salim was what kept me so engrossed and I thought that Salim was responsible for carrying the story forward. Although Dev Patel ,who plays role of the protagonist ,could have acted better, I did not care because his looks and smile bowled me over. I specially liked him when he smiled widely on seeing the final question.

I don't know whether the movie should win an Oscar or not but I definitely don't want A.R. Rahman to win an Oscar for this one. He has composed better music before. Besides, the ending of the movie was like any other Hindi movie. After arresting him, when the protagonist narrated how he had answered the questions, how did the police know that he was speaking the truth? Why did they let him off so easily in the end after even giving him electric shocks? But, I don't think that anybody has commited a grave mistake by portraying India's poverty because it is the harsh truth. Each of the things shown in the movie exist in this country. The country's people should not expect foreign film makers to ignore them sweetly, specially when those film makers know what sort of profits they can derive by making a movie which deals with India's miserable condition.

On a different and more cheerful note, I also went to the Kolkata Book Fair yesterday. I totally got lost in the world of books and for myself, I got a collection of all short stories written by Guy De Maupassant. The book includes more than 150 stories! I also got a collection of stories by R.L.Stevenson and 'The White Tiger' by Aravind Adiga. Besides, my parents bought books for themselves and after spending nearly four hours at the fair, they realized that they had just enough money left to pay the taxi fare. They realized that just in time though, because we were thinking of looking around a bit more for some other books!

One of hand and mouse paintings again...Couldn't think of an appropriate title for this lady though.

9 things which will never happen in 2009

• The year passing by without any terrorist attack in any part of the nation or world
• The two halves of the year without road, rail or air accidents
• The four quarters of the year without that running inflation
• 12 months of industrial progress for West Bengal
• 52 weeks without natural disasters
• 365 days without those stupid strikes which rob hundreds of their daily wages
• 8760 hours of prevention of pollution
• 52600 minutes of complete literacy in India
• 3153600 seconds of love, peace and prosperity all around

Merry Christmas :-)

My maternal grandfather, who is, err, a great 'devotee', on Christmas Day.

My father and I in a taxi on Christmas Day.

My grandfather and I at a Chinese restaurant in Kolkata, where we had lunch that day.

My grandmother with my parents at the same venue.

My grandparents and parents at City Centre on that day where we watched the new Bengali movie of the famous Feluda series by Satyajit Ray, "Tintorettor Jishu"(Tintoretto's Jesus).

A month of surprises

This December, I really am surprising my family. On my parents' anniversary, we were palnning to go for dinner. But, while planning, we realized that if we would start from our house after both of them returned from work, it would be very late because their offices as well as the restaurant where we wanted to go, are all very far from our house. So, I was struck with an idea and suggested that if I would travel to my father's office in the evening and meet him there, we would then go and meet my mother somewhere and then go for dinner. After a lot of pleading, they agreed. Thus, on their 20th anniversary, I went all the way from our house in Baguiati to my father's office in Chowringhee by bus. On hearing that I had completed that one hour and fifteen minute journey all by myself, everyone was all praise for me.

The next surpise came for them when I went for a movie with a friend, which I mentioned in my last post. And,the latest suprise was when I went and had food with my friends in a restaurant, for the first time ever, after the Christmas Celebration at our school on Friday. The function itself was not that good. But, I don't suppose any of us had gone for the purpose of enjoying the function. We had gone to enjoy with friends, to enjoy the gathering. Some of us suddenly decided to brighten up the evening more with the help of food. There were six of us, including me. Sukanya, Mekhala, Arittra, Sayani and Biswadeep made a nice group. The funny thing was that as I had invited Arittra to join us, he had assumed that I was the one giving the treat. But, while going to the restaurant, he realized from our conversation that Biswadeep was the one who would be financing. So, when the rest of us had already sat down, he stood staring at me with a very embarassed look on his face. I was forced to get up and talk to him. He said, "You're not the one giving the treat? But, I don't even know him(Biswadeep) and how can I just eat when he will be paying?" I replied very nonchalantly, " I didn't know him till today either. But, so what?" Hearing that, he became more unwilling to sit down. So, I said , "Ok fine, we'll all contribute something. Take your seat now." Thankfully, he was satisfied and occupied the last chair . We explained to him later that the reason for taking Biswadeep with us was that he is very rich and always has a good amount of pocket money with him! Now, wasn't that very clever of us? :-D

So, this month I have heard numerous time from numerous people that, " Tui to boro hoye geli!" (You've grown up!") I am glad that they have finally realized that!

rab ne bana di jodi

Today, I went to watch 'Rab ne bana di jodi' with my friend, Sukanya . This was special for me because for the first time, I went out independently with a friend. Earlier this year, when I had gone out with my blogger friends, my cousins were there and besides, they were all grown-ups. But, today, there were only the two of us, without the company of any adult and it boosted by confidence a lot. Moreover, I was the one who guided Sukanya today because I have been to that multiplex and shopping mall more number of times than her and know shorter and better routes leading to it.

Coming back to the actual topic, Sukanya was extremely happy too because some of our other friends had been planning to watch this movie but hadn't invited her properly to join their group. She had been telling me that very dejectedly and on hearing that, when I had proposed our going to the movies without taking anyone else, her face had lighted up. Today, there was not a single moment when the smile vanished from her lips and that gave me a lot of satisfaction because she is the friend who has been getting closer to me for the last few months.

The movie was also very good, specially the first half. The first half was actually very funny. The second half was a bit boring . The story is kind of sweet. Anushka Sharma is very glamorous and has done a good job. Every time she smiles, its a treat to watch her. And, Shah Rukh Khan is superb. But, of course, he always is superb! The way he walks in this movie, the way he makes his two appearances in the movie equally adorable and above all, the way he smiles, all make 'Rab ne...' a must watch. The love story fails to be extraordinary, primarily because of the abrupt climax and the way Anushka abruptly discovers the person in whom she actually finds 'rab' or God. But, at the same time, the love story does leave an impression because of the way it conveys the message to us that some love stories are indeed created by God.

Still life

This is one of my hand painted pictures, in oil colours. And, I changed my photo on the page because nobody seemed to like it. Specially, after protests from Nanny and Woodsmoke, I decided to change it. Hope you like both the painting as well as the photo.

Sitting pretty

Black and white

In my last post, I had mentioned that I would be a starting a new paint blog soon. But, following Subhadipda's suggestion, I would like to post my paintings on this blog itself. This is the blog which is very close to my heart and I don't want it to get less attention.

So, the above picture is the first of those paintings done with the mouse. Hope you like it!

Something colourful

A white paper, a pencil, a box of tubes containing water colours, a palette to choose and mix the right combination of colours, numerous brushes and a conatiner of water...or tubes containing oil colours instead of water colours and the container of water replaced by two tiny containers of oil...

Whenever I paint, my mind is burried in these things. A slight slack of concentration and the picture may go horribly wrong, especially with the water colours. But, its never difficult to get totally engaged in what I paint because I love to paint. It always keeps my mind away from other worries and after a good painting session, the mind feels refreshed. It is also a treat to see my own paintings after finishing them if I am really able to do a good job.

But, unfortunately, these studies don't let a person do anything else. Sometimes they are so mean! So, although I have been continuing my painting classes, I have not been able to painting the time it deserves. I don't suppose I will ever be able to give it that time ,which I used to give it three or four years back, ever again. But, since I devote a lot of time to blogging, I have been wondering for the past few days about combining the two activities together. If I start another blog and use it only for posting my computer and mouse paintings, it would help me to devote time to painting and become something new in my life. So, I have decided now that I will start such a blog. I will post the URL here so that you all can visit it. I hope you will like my paintings just as you have admired my writing.

I must add here that I first got the inspiration to start a paint blog after seeing Deeptidi's (Deepti Siwal's) paintings on her paint blog, Marasim. I don't know why she stopped blogging and can't be seen in blogosphere anymore now but as long as she was there, she created magic with her paintings. I too want to do the same...hope you will encourage me.

The white abodes

At Chamoli (below); My parents on the ropeway to Chandi devi 's mandir(right)

The three of us at Bheem Pul(left)

The Alaknanda at Managaon(right)

Badrinath temple(right)

My mother at Chopta(above)

Mymother and I at Kedarnath(left)

The Kedarnath temple(right)

Clouds engulf the way to Kedar(above)

Forests on the way to Kedar(left)

My father in his doli(right)

On the way to Guptkashi(above)

The rivers Alaknanda and Mandakini merge at Devaprayag, on the way to Guptkashi(left)

The evening aarti(above and below)







Ram Ghat (right)

I used to think that no one in this world knew where heaven was. But, now I have been forced to change my opinion. Loads of people, including me, know where heaven is. And, it looks like the two bottommost pictures.The pictures are those of Kedarnath and Badrinath, the places I visited over the last two weeks with my parents. We started off on 5th October and first took a flight to New Delhi. Then, we reached Haridwar on the Janshatabdi Express the same night. Haridwar is not the type of town present in a person's dreams. It is rather congested and there is practically nothing to be seen in it except the Ganges. But, there was something about the town which made me like it though I don't know what it was. Our hotel was located in Ram Ghat, one of the busy market areas of Haridwar. Whenever we would step out of our hotel, a mixed smell of pickle and jalebis and the noise of autos and rickshaws would greet us and that would make me very happy. Ram Ghat and the nearby areas are marked by narrow lanes, sweet shops, shops selling woollen garments with the shopkeepers shouting in Bengali ( as 90% tourists are Bengalis), restaurants like Mashir Hotel and Dada-Boudir Hotel with their names written in Bengali and what not. I am extremely fond of sweets and I specially liked the gulab jamun at Haridwar! But, in spite of being a Bengali, I hated the food at Mashir Hotel, unlike most other Bengalis there, because it was just tasteless! There would haardly be any space to walk through these areas but there would always be a lot to watch and hear.

Away from this hustle and bustle, at Har Ki Pauri, the atmosphere is totally different and I felt that we had arrived at another part of the world. There, the Ganges flows widely and the people move calmly towards its banks. The evening aarti begins exactly at 6.20 p.m. and ends exactly at 6.30 p.m. Thousands of people gather around the banks of the Ganges to watch this ten minute show which is not just a ritual. It is a symbol of peace which attracts the rich and the poor, the happy and the unhappy, the religious and the non-religious. It is dominated by the sound of bells echoing throughout Haridwar and the flame and odour of giant panch-pradeeps spreading contentment all around.

The next day, we went to Guptkashi, one of the many spots between Haridwar and Kedarnath, where people halt. But, halting at Guptkashi is not a practical decision, as we understood afterwards because it is 35km away from Gaurikund, the point from which the trek to Kedarnath begins. So, as we halted at Guptkashi that night, we first had to travel to Gaurikund in the morning and could start for Kedarnath at 9.30 a.m. That is not at all good because it takes six hours to trek to Kedarnath and the weather there starts deteriorating after 1 p.m. So, people should halt at Gaurikund. The road to Guptkashi is much better than the place itself. When we had lamost reachd Guptkashi, our car turned a bend on the mountainous road and we got the first glimpse of the white snow-capped mountains! It was only a short glimpse but it gave me immeasurable pleasure. It was a feeling of joy and satisfaction and I could not believe that I had finally come near the white mountains which I had so much desired to see. After that though, Guptkashi offered us nothing impressive except the lush green mountains. Our hotel had no provision for food and we had to eat at a restaurant where there was a one man show. The man, Chauhan, was the owner, chef, waiter and receptionist at his restaurant, the only gentle one in this bizarre place. But, I must praise him because he prepared really good food. Although the food was hot (so hot that it made my mother jump up and down in spite of preferring hot food herself), it was good.

On 8th October, we started our journey to Kedarnath. The journey to Kedarnath can be completed on foot, on horseback, on dolis ( like palanquins but without the roof and carried by four bearers) , kandis (baskets carried by people on their backs with the passengers sitting in them) or helicopters. We chose the dolis because my father has been suffering from arthritis and both my parents are heart patients and it is not possible for them to walk 14 km. The doli stand is located a kilometre or so away from the point where the cars stop.It is ruled by total chaos and confusion and by the time we started off on our respective dolis ( one person in one doli), we felt like pulling our hair out. But, the doli bearers' job is very very praiseworthy because frist of all, they carry people. Moreover, the road to Kedarnath is very steep , rough and dangerous. But, the infinite energy with which they carried us deserves a million applauses.

The first few kilometres on the way are full of mountains covered with thick jungles and when my doli was moving just on the edge of the road, it was giving me the chill to look down and find the hills leading down to nowhere! The gorges are so deep that even when I noticed a stream or two, they appeared like long ribbons. The more we went, the less thick the jungles became and after a stage, disappeared altogether. But, the road became steeper and the cold went on increasing. We stopped five times on the way and every time, had either tea or coffee. A friendly feature about the trek to Kedar is that when people going uphill happen to exchange looks with those coming downhill, they say "Jai Bhole" to each other. This is not a rule but the urge to chant "Jai Bhole" occurs naturally to the trekkers.The mid-point of the road is at Rambara where we had maggi for lunch. Till Rambara, the weather had been bright and sunny but as soon as we crossed it, the weather suddenly deteriorated. Clouds engulfed our way and drops of ice-cold rain began to fall. The cold started pentrating even my thick power shoes and cotton socks. At Kedarnath, the cold was unbelievable! We were shaking even after wearing two sweaters. We just managed to visit the temple in the evening and see the deity but could only listen to the aarti as the temple became very crowded after a while. After coming back to our hotel, we gulped down mouthfuls of boiling hot khichdi and I went to sleep in my jeans. Even after covering ourselves with two quilts each, we took time to adjust to the cold and could not move in bed. The next morning, we went to offer puja at the temple. It was painful at first because we had to wait in the queue bare footed. But, inside the temple it was warmer and yet, it was worse because we had to fight the crowds there. Everything is very unsystematic inside the temple. The queue breaks up into two near the entrance and again merges into one of its own accord near the sanctum sanctorum, trigerring line breaking and complete chaos. People sit around a small pool where the deity has been placed, and offer their puja.It was a bad experience to see two people fighting around that pool just because one of them had pushed the other while trying to touch the deity. What I didn't understand was that why all those people at the temple that day have to adopt wrong means to reach the deity first. Why couldn't they have waited half an hour more for their turn patiently after having trekked for six hours? If they had maintained peace, the whole process would have become smoother and quicker. Reaching Kedarnath is not easy but once you reach the place, you realize that all your efforts were worth it. The white majestic Neelkanth range and the sight of the temple gives you a lot of satisfaction and gives you all the energy to fight the biting cold. In the world of those huge mountains, nothing else matters. All your big and small desires together seem very little.At least, this is what I felt ...

The return journey on the doli is very uncomfortable because this time, the doli bearers run down with their dolis and the passengers keep on bumping up and down in them. We also stopped only once on the way at Rambara and reached Gaurikund in, surprisingly, two and a half hours. Before returning to Guptkashi, we visited a place called Trijugnarayan where Lord Shiva had married Parvatin and the marriage fire has been kept burning till this day. On the 10th of October, we started the long journey to the second dham, Badrinath. This time too, we visited places on the way. One of them was Unkhimath, where Usha, the daughter of Surya, had married Aniruddha, the grandson of Lord Krishna, and the place where Lord Kedarnath is said to live during the winter season when he has no visitors at Kedar itself. Both Trijugnarayan and Unkhimath are nice place swith pretty temples but the palce which stands out is Chopta. Chopta is a very colourful place with a very blue sky, snow white mountains, mountians with rich green trees and a lime green valley visible altogether. Although the road to Badri is motorable, it is very bad and very narrow. So, only a certain number of vehicles are allowed to ply on the road for a period of two and a half hours, enabling them to cross the danger zones safely without any chances of congestion. Thus, from Joshimath, a place on the way to Badri and also from Badri, the vehicles start only at 6.30 a.m., 9 a.m., 11.30 a.m., 2 p.m. and 4.30 p.m. but not at any other time in between or before or after. If a vehicle misses the 11.30 a.m. 'gate' (as they are called), it will have to wait for two and a half hours to use the 2 p.m. 'gate'.

We entered the narrowest of roads by the 4.30 p.m. 'gate' and at once, forgot all about Chopta. The mountains were now mysteriously beautiful. They were bare and grey and as my parents said, (I have never before heard them speaking in this poetic manner and must admit that I was puzzled) strange people would come out of the mountains any time and charge at us. It was a different kind of beauty. The next morning, we first visited Badrinath temple but only saw the deity without offering any puja. At this temple, things are much more in order and people themselves are less frantic. Then, we went to Managaon, 3 km from Badri, which is India's last village in the north before the Chinese border. At Managaon, we had to use our feet to walk around and see the origin of the Saraswati river from the Bheem Pul and the Ganesh and Vyas Gumfas. So, naturally, my father, with his arthritis, could not see everything and waited in the car while my mother and I discovered the sweetness of Mana. We had even thought of walking 3 km more to visit the Muchkund Gumfa but local people said that going there and coming back would take two hours in all. Sadly, we gave up the idea. Both at Badri and at Mana, the Alaknanda river is peacock blue. The river there is just like the sea with its white waves and in fact, we don't even get to see the sea in such a form often.

On the night of the 12th, we stayed over at Chamoli, a district town on the way back to Haridwar. That is also a very picturesque place and although there is no special spot to be seen, one can spend hours sitting and watching the splendid view.

After coming back to Haridwar, we visited Rishikesh, Ram Jhula and Lakshman Jhula. Although these places are really nice, we didn't enjoy them to a good extent because their beauty was nothing compared to what we had already seen. So, its better to go to these places before going to Kedar, Badri, Gangotri or Jamunotri. The security in these places is very bad. Any time, any moment, they can be blown up along with the millions of people visiting them. We also visited the Mansa Mandir inside Haridwar and the Chandi Mandir on the outskirts of Haridwar. There too, the view from the hilltops where they are located is more important than them. They are accesible only by ropeway and the view from the ropeway is also splendid.

A few things more about this trip. Its a completely wrong notion that only the rough and tough and young people can go on a hectic trip such as this. We saw many elderly people enjoying the trip. If people are a bit careful, anyone can enjoy the trip. Also, contrary to what we had heard several times before going, there is no need to be part of a big group for going on this tour. There were only the three of us and we didn't face any problem.Besides, there seemd to be no other business in Uttarakhand apart from tourism. Wherever we went, we encountered hotels, tourist lodges, guest houses, etc. etc. but very few houses of local people. Moreover, there's no good connection between people in different sectors of the tourism industry. For example, the hotels don't know when they'll get the advance money paid to the travel agencies by the tourists. The industry is marked by double crossery and treachery. This trip will be memorable because before starting on the 5th, every moment we feared that we might not be able to go at all becuase of the numerous obstacles which came our way. And then, we could go after all! If any of you ever need any information regarding this tour, you can ask me. I'll be very happy to help you.
Jai Bhole! Jai Badri Vishal!

Rajarshi

Rabindranath Tagore was undoubtedly a great man and a great novelist. His writings really are different. But (I know I have no right to say this considering the fact that I am talking about a man like him; forgive me if I hurt your sentiments which I know I will) sometimes, they are so boring!

'Rajarshi' was a novel written by him after having a dream. He dreamt that a little girl had visited a temple with her father one day and seeing the blood of animals sacrificed to the god/goddess, on the temple steps, the girl had asked, " Why is there so much blood?" Based on this, Rabindranath Tagore had penned an entire novel. I haven't read the whole novel yet but I have felt that our Nobel Laureate was just not at his best when he wrote this one. Why did he have to describe the time of the day so often? In every chapter, there is one long paragraph about either the day or the night or the afternoon or the early evening. In two lines about the atmospheric conditions, we could have understood the coming incidents, whether they will be good or bad. In one of the chapters, he describes the morning as a very pleasant one and tells us about everything and everyone from the sun rays to the squirrels and from the goats to the people happily chatting while preparing to take a bath. But, then he says that Jayshingha (one important character) is not happy to see everyone else so merry! Then, why did he make us read so much? And that Jayshingha! He changes his mind every alternate chapter. He is just not able to decide whether to support the king or the priest. By inserting this character into the novel, Rabindranath Tagore makes things so boring. There was simply no need for the readers to digest this man called Jayshingha when he practically does nothing and finally kills himself. Chapters have been on Jayshingha. And, what's the point of having such a philosopher like Govindamanikya as king? Just because a girl asked the reason for all that blood, he ordered that all sacrifices should be stopped! Why didn't he just concentrate on his other administrative duties? Oh, but of course, he was a philosopher, not a king. So, how could he? Govindamanikya was also a big bore in the sense that he was wanting to listen to the 'dhrubopakhyan' from a little boy of five or six who, all the while, was wanting to go and meet his friend and play in the woods. The only smart person in the novel is Raghupati, the priest, who doesn't waste a singel moment in deciding what he wants. He is the villain but to me, he is the character who makes us open our eyes properly and read every time he comes into the picture.

I hope I'll get something better in the rest of the chapters though I have every doubt. I know I have already hurt a dozen sentiments and am already being cursed but I could not help it!

10 messages received

Here are some of the really nice SMSs which I have received over the past few months. I don't know whether you all have received some of them too or not. Anyway, I hope you'll all enjoy them!

1.What did Kangaroo say when she found her baby missing?
Just think
Try again
She said, "Aaila! kisi ne meri pocket mar li..."

2.Jab barish hoti hai, tum yad ate ho. Jab kali ghata chhaye, tum yad ate ho. Jab bheegte hai hum, tum yad ate ho. Ab bata bhi do mera umbrella kab wapas karoge!

3.Ek sardar ki maut bijli girne se hui,par uski lash muskurate hui mili. God ne puchha,"Aisa kyun?"
Sardar: Oye, mainu laga koi meri photo khinch raha hai...

4.(kuch kuch hota hai remix): Exam pass aye, dil ghabraye, teacher ne na jane kya paper banaye. Ab to mera pen ruk ruk ke chalta hai, kya karun haaye, kuch nehi aata hai!

5. Sardarji dukhi the, kisi ne puchha, "kyun tension me ho?"
Sardarji: "yaar, ek dost ko plastic surgery ke liye 2 lakh diye the, ab saale ko pehchaan nehi pa raha hun!"

6. S_nrise
B_tterfly
Pict_re
L_nch
Clo_ds
St_dies
M_sic
S_nday
all are very boring without "U"!

7.Maintain silence for 2 minutes in memory of all those poor mosquitoes who died last night after drinking your blood; they had a diabetes attack because you are so sweet....

8.If you find a friend better than me, i won't stop you, but if that friend leaves u, just look behind. I will be there....To slap and say, "HO GAYI TASALLI!"

9. Teacher: If I saw a man beating a donkey and stopped him, what virtue would I be showing?
Student: Brotherly love.

10. A man ordered soup in a restaurant but found a fly in his soup. He said to the waiter, "Mere soup me ek makkhi hai!" The waiter replied ,"To main kya karun? Main dhaba chalaun ya inhe tairna sikhaun?"

An element of my blood

I have often talked about my hatred for Mathematics. Whenever I have complained about the problems cropping up while studying, I have blamed Mathematics. But, I have never mentioned a word about the subject which has helped me to stay calm even during the most critical situations. I have always assured myself, "Never mind, there's still History...."

I had liked History from Day One. It has always been fascinating to read about people who lived years ago and to understand their lifestyle, their achievements using nothing but human labour, both physical and mental and their ability to think beyond their times. The strength of mind that they have shown before numerous wars or their failure to show it and the reasons associated with either of the two attitudes always provides for an interesting read.

How can History ever be boring? I know that different people have diffferent preferences. I myself hate Math whereas there are many who don't. But, I have seen that eighty percent people don't like History. And, its not just hatred. They treat History as an inferior subject; a subject whose study requires no special skill, a subject where success is guaranteed if you can memorize well, a subject which is infinitely boring , a subject which is useless because it deals with the past....Their comments hurt me and prick me like a needle because History has been my saviour. Over the years, I realized that it is the subject on which I have a very firm grip and it is difficult for others to loosen that grip. But, its not that I like History just because it fetches me good marks but because of the subject itself. We must know something about our past. We have got to be acquainted with the reasons for the existing world problems and those reasons can only be provided by History.

The other day, my friend was telling me that its good that I have taken up Humanities and that all my subjects are good. But, how am I tolerating History? "Even if you are studying History now, you obviously won't do your graduation in History?", she asked and then added, "Will you?", a bit doubtfully. I replied that if the circumstances let me take up History, I will do it. Then, she said, "You have a lot of patience." Now, why is it that one always needs patience to study only History? Isn't patience needed for studying itself, irrespective of what subject it is?

Anyway, I have stopped caring about such comments because deep down, I know that History is an element of my blood. I love to get transported to a different world whenever I study History and the two of us are inseparable mates. If History is removed from my blood and my soul, I will not survive...

A day of the bloggers, by the bloggers and for the bloggers

Woodsmoke mentioned in her comment on my last post that of late, whenever she has visited my blog, she has felt like a celebrity. Well, after reading this post,I'm not sure whether she's going to feel like one again because this time, there will be other celebrities also.

Rohit, a dear fellow blogger, came to Kolkata late on Thursday night to meet my cousin. This morning, he came to our house along with SubhadipDa, another fellow blogger. Then, Woodsmoke arrived too, with her sibling and my cousin, AriD. Now, AriD's a blogger too. So, we, the five great bloggers, went to Vedic Village, a resort just on the outskirts of Kolkata. Instead of wasting much time there seeing the other things and admiring the greenery they have tried to maintain there, we straightaway entered the restaurant, Bhoomi. It was a very nice place for having lunch. We(except Rohit) had rice, moong dal,mixed vegetable, mourala fish wrapped in banana leaves, prawn, mutton and two kinds of sweets. Rohit only took a very small quantity of rice, a very small quanity of dal ,an even smaller quantity of vegetable, only one type of sweet and nothing else.I was rather surprised because after reading his blog, I had somehow felt that this guy really loves to eat. I don't know when'll be the next time that I'll meet someone who eats lesser than him! Anyway, nothing was wasted because AriD was there to help the others finish off everything. During the meal, we only heard him asking us to pass some item or the other to him. And, he was sitting next to Rohit! So, there were two people sitting close to each other of whom, one's plate was almost empty and other's was completely full!

I don't know what the others will think about this, but according to me, the journey was more enjoyable than the lunch. I was my usual self all the while, talking extremely less. I obviously was teased about it but I enjoyed Rohit's and SubhadipDa's funny expressions when I talked very softly, even when I did talk. But, I also want to mention here that although the two of them talked more than I did, they are not the kind of people who go on talking. They, too, are rather quiet, specially SubhadipDa and, Rohit's voice is very low. AriD has always been a man of few words. He actually fell asleep during our return journey.So, the only person who literally talked non-stop today, was my dear sister (as she always does, of course)!

The Rohit that I had imagined after reading his posts, was definitely not the Rohit whom I met today. But, this was only our first meet. So, I'll get to know more about him after him after this. I hope we'll become more friendly after this. Maybe then, I'll be able to relate him with his blog. Today's impression is that he is a really nice guy...a bit shy but definitely, the type of person I like.

To describe SubhadipDa in two words, he is handsome and serious. Today, he was our guide and he was quite serious about his job. At the same time, that calm expression and light smile were always lingering on his face and he too, has got a good sense of humour. Overall, he is also very good and really good looking and to a good extent, I could relate him with his blog.

To conclude, the day was splendid and the other four bloggers will keep on popping up in front of me tomorrow, no matter where I go or what I do. I can imagine how many times I'll laugh to myself in the bus tomorrow remembering today's jokes( still haven't figured out why this happens so frequently to me in a bus only)!

Amazing weekends

Last Saturday, Woodsmoke and me went to Gariahat market with our mothers. She needed to get some new salwars and shirts made for herself. It was so much fun! The purpose of going itself did not matter much to either of us. The real enjoyment was staying together all the time and cracking jokes about something or the other. Woodsmoke got quite bored while choosing the dress materials because the other three people with her too had to be satisfied with them. After that, when my aunt took a considerably long time to buy dress materials for herself and started talking about buying more things, you should have seen Woodsmoke's face! I didn't know that she despised shopping so much. As for me, I was pretty amused throughout. This was not because of the shopping but because of all my cousin's actions. For me, shopping always means spending four to five hours at a stretch with my parents outside, which is very hard to come by. So, even though I am not a shopaholic, I look forward to shopping. Anyway, I know that Woodsmoke was enjoying herself with her family but not quite the way she had wanted to. So, she was extremely delighted when my mother suggested that we should take lunch first.

But, my aunt was not to be put off so easily. Post lunch, she resumed her shopping business. Woodsmoke kept on teasing her that she probably wanted to buy something for every neighbour back home.Well,she took it quite sportingly! I should have liked to photograph my dear cousin's bored face when the senior ladies were choosing sarees. The man at the saree shop opened one of the sarees and showed its different parts to us. He was looking like such a cartoon that Woodsmoke whispered to me, saying that he should try it on himself. Then, the two of us started giggling and I also remember giggling over certain other things. Every time we did that, my aunt exclaimed, "Look at what they are doing!"

Woodsmoke's experience that evening at a cyber cafe was hilarious too. I went with her there and we worked at different computers. Her computer's keyboard didn't have a single letter or digit printed on the keys. When she asked the fellow there whether there was a better keyboard or not, he replied, "Why, the keyboard is perfectly alright. Only the letters are missing;that's all."

The next day, we went to Dakkhineshwar, Belur Math and Shaktigarh.This time, we were also accompanied by our fathers and our common grandparents. Once more, Woodsmoke was thrilled to see the mad crowds at the temple who were ready to throttle one another to catch a glimpse of the goddess. It was the to and fro journey that we enjoyed more than whatever we saw at these places. I didn't even know that there were such beautiful roads in West Bengal. While returning, Big 92.7 Fm radio channel started playing songs of Shah Rukh Khan movies! This time, both of us were truly thrilled and we started singing the songs. "Jadoo teri nazar", "Main Agar Kahoon", "Aankhon mein teri", "Kal ho na ho".....it was the icing on the cake!

Yesterday, me and seven other students of our school went to Jadavpur University for an essay-writing and a debate competition. Six of us, including me, wrote the essays and two participated in the debate. All were environmental topics. We were escorted by two of our teachers in a sumo and had a marvellous time both at the campus as well as during the journey.When we were having lunch on the campus, a man was sleeping on a bench nearby. Our friend, Arittra, went near him and coughed loudly enough to rouse him! And, this is just one example of the funny things which happened yesterday, thanks to Arittra of Class XI and Lalit and Soumyodipto of Class XII!

She's here!

Usually, for me, Tuesday happens to be the worst day of the week. Somehow, I always want them to end as quickly as possible. But, Tuesday, the 22nd of July,2008, was bright and cheerful right from the morning. The weather was beautiful. It was neither drizzling nor was it too humid. A very pleasant wind was blowing. All this perfectly matched with the fact that we would be going to the airport that night to receive my cousin Woodsmoke.

I would be meeting her after two years. During these two years, we have mostly communicated through blogging. We have sent emails but not regularly and when we used to talk over the phone, those five minutes of talking were too less to express our sentiments properly. Unfortunately, I did not know the Google Talk formula for a long time and when I came to know about it, I could not download it properly. So, I was counting the days and the nearer her arrival time drew, the more excited I became. So, the most recent Tuesday was very promising.

My uncle and aunt(Woodsmoke's parents) came to our house in the evening. After having dinner together, they went to the airport along with us(me and my parents). It takes just about 15 minutes to go to the airport from our place. So, we were there in a flash. After a few moments, board showing the schedules of different flights informed us that the flight from Frankfurt had arrived at the expected time(11.05 p.m.). Those were some moments! My excitement and impatience was increasing every minute. The first passenger to come out was a swarthy German man. As my aunt and me were standing in front and smiling widely in happiness and in the hope that any moment we would see my cousin, that guy smiled back at us. Probably, he had thought at first that we were the ones supposed to be receiving him.Anyway, then two more Germans came, then an Indian family, then three Koreans and so on. But where was Woodsmoke? Just when we were thinking that she would be the last passenger to show herself, we saw her coming! As she came closer, I saw that she was looking extremely pretty. Her smile somehow looked more charming that night.

But, I won't be able to say that the Tuesday was 100 percent good. When I was returning home in the evening after attending school and tuition consecutively, I fell down from the autorickshaw. I am used to sitting on the front right side seat with my bag but that day I was a bit absent minded. My right leg was very badly injured. I didn't realize its seriousness on Tuesday because of all the excitement. Besides, there was only a burning sensation on Tuesday. But, the wound started showing its real colours from Wednesday. Yesterday, I was walking on one foot. Couldn't even dream of going to school. Today though, its much better and tomorrow nothing will stop me from having a grand time with my cousin.

The Diary of a Young Girl

We all have read about the Second World War (1939-45). In all history textbooks, the important events and battles, the decisions of important people and leaders and dates are written. Sometimes, we get tired of learning those long paragraphs about the treaties, their causes, thier consequences, etc. We think we know almost everything about the War. At least, that's what I thought till last week.

But, after reading 'The Diary of a Young Girl', by Anne Frank, I feel that my knowledge about the War is zero because I had no idea about exactly how much the common people, specially Jews, had to suffer. Anne Frank was a German Jew whose family had sought asylum in Holland during the Second World War. They used to live in a proper house till July 1942 but were forced to go into hiding like millions of other Jews because the Jews were being captured by the Gestapo ( Nazi policemen) and sent off to concentration camps. Just because they were born Jews, Adolf Hitler had forced billions of them to live a life of misery and had given orders to murder them mercilessly. Even when Anne Frank and her family had not been compelled to go into hiding, their life was troublesome, thanks to Mr. Hitler. Anne had devoted three-fourths of one page of her diary to writing about the restrictions imposed on Jews. They had named thier hiding place as The Secret Annexe. They used to live their with the van Pels( referred to by Anne as the van Daans) and Dr. Dussel, a bachelor. Anne had started writing in her diary from 12th June, 1942 by describing her feelings and experiences in letters addressed to an imaginable person named Kitty. We first get a taste of Anne's happy life as a teenager at school, with many friends, many admirers and at home. But, at the Annexe, her life was f ull of troubles. Life was hard for them. The Annexe was part of a big office building and a warehouse was also attached to it. Few of the office members namely Mr. Voskuijl,Mr.Kleimann, Mr.Kugler, Miep and Jan Gies and Bep had secretly helped them to hide at the Annexe for two two years. There wasn't always fresh food, they could never open the windows beyond an inch, there were rules regarding the use of the lavatory, they could never raise their voices and they obviously could not go out. No one else knew what had become of them. Anne had written about the conflicts between different members of the Annexe, her love for her father, hatred for her mother, relationship with her sister, the irritating habits of Dr.Dussel and Mrs. van Daan and affectionate relationship with Peter van Daan. We get to know how her feelings gradually changed over a span of two years. When Gerrit Bolkenstein, a member of the Dutch government in exile had announced that he would collect eyewitness accounts of sufferers during the war (like letters or diaries) in 1944, Anne began to edit her diary. She hoped that a book would be published based on her diary.

While reading the diary, one will feel that the eight members of the Annexe were not united. There always was a quarrel between some of them. But, there are times, when one will feel that they were united. When Anne describes how burglars had broken into the office on two nights, how they had narrowly been saved on those occasions and how they all were waiting patiently for England to invade Holland so that they might be free once more, one understands that they were united. There was a lot of anxiety and optimism in Anne's last few letters. The invasion had finally begun in 1944 but before the whole of Holland could be occupied by the British, someone had tipped off the Gestapo about suspicious incidents at the office. So, just when Anne's miserable days had seemed to come to an end, they were captured. At the end of Anne's letters, we get to know that the different members were sent to different concentration camps where they ultimately died. The most painful part of it is that all Jews were liberated from each of those camps just two or three days after the members of the Annexe died there. Only Anne's father, Otto H. Frank, survived and edited Anne's diary and devoted himself to sharing his daughter's thoughts with people the world over.

So, when we read about a period of two years in textbooks, we never understand how the common people had to suffer. They had to live through each and every day of those two years in terrible insecurity. We might read that Holland was conquered in 1944 by the British, but it was not that easy. The leaders had to debate a lot before invading any country and any small town or city in the country. All this can be made out from Anne's writing. The individual amotional woes of the Jews in hiding were always there to add fuel to the fire. We will never understand them, no matter how much we try. We can only hope that the world will never see another Adolf Hitler. Oh, why was he so cruel? How can anyone be so cruel? If he had not been so cruel, Anne might have fulfilled her dream of becoming a journalist and later on, a writer. She might have been able to see this book being published and might still have been living.

Namesake

'Sinjini Sengupta is suffering from a nervous problem', 'Sinjini Sengupta had participated in a reality show', 'Sinjini Sengupta was eliminated from it', 'Sinjini Sengupta is now in a Bangalore hospital', etc., etc., etc.

All this was being flashed on every news channel last Saturday. I, Sinjini Sengupta, saw the images of another Sinjini Sengupta in hospital, on TV last Saturday. Sinjini had participated in a dance reality show telecasted by ETV Bangla. She had been eliminated in one of the rounds. She had been so hurt that she actually had to be admitted to a hospital. The news channels were so happy and excited. They had got some hot news and had got the opportunity to criticize ETV Bangla, the judges of the concerned show and all reality shows. Serious talk shows were being held by each Bengali news channel to assess who was to blame for Sinjini's condition. People were sending SMSs and presenting their individual opinions about the problem. It had beome an all-India issue.

I became a bit irritated of all this. It did not give me a very nice feeling to see my own name being flashed every time, stating that I was sick. Personally, I felt and I still feel that it was her and her parents' fault. She already had that nervous problem. In that case, they should not have allowed her to participate at all.In a reality show, one can be eliminated in any round. There will be a lot of competition. Not just reality shows, there is a lot of competition in every field now. If one does not have the guts or the mental condition to face that competition or to bear the misery of being beaten, one does not have any right to participate in the battle. Under such a circumstance, one should should not be forced to participate either. If one's performance is not good in any episode, one can't expect the judges to smile at him/her and shower false praises. One will deliberately be criticized and that criticism can help one to improve in future and to learn from mistakes.

Having said all this, I must also add that I am feeling sorry for Sinjini. From the deepest corner of my heart, I hope she gets well very soon. After all, it's not every day that you see people who have the same name and surname as you and even study in the same class! Yeah, she is a Class XI student! And, since all these particluars of mine have matched with her, some people actually got a rude shock at first. Richa, one of my fellow bloggers, had thought at first that it was me. The dreamer, another fellow blogger actually asked me whether I was the same Sinjini Sengupta or not. My most favourite teacher at school, Shaluk Ma'am told me that she had got the shock of her life on opening the newspaper on Sunday morning. Our Bengali teacher, Ratna Ma'am said to me in class, " You're Sinjini Sengupta. Then, how come you're here? Hadn't you become sick?"

Well, let me confirm in this post that I am not that Sinjini Sengupta. I had learnt Kathak till I was in Class VIII. But, I never ever thought of participating in any dance reality show!