Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Friday, March 23, 2012
Chena Ochena Ramkinkar
Dilli shohorer konkriter deoyale ramkinkorer chena ar ochena rong..
jolronger bhubondanga kimba shillong pahar..neel-sobujer fnake ghorbari..
Ramkinkorer jolronger chobi amake khub beshi kore tane. ami ankte pari na,kintu koyekta ronger chop obornoniyo bhabe rongin hoye othe kolponay.
National Gallery of Modern Art-e Ramkinkor Retrospective dekhte eshe Gallery-r auditorium theke bheshe asha chena ganer sur shune doure chole gechi dorjar pashe..bishal screen-e natyoghorer samner rastata- bristidhoya sobuj. Kalo bari ar kalabhaban chottorke porday dekhte peye hothat ki bhalo je laglo..
Neel jol ronger somudro, sobuje-anka pahar, shada-kaloy anka beral ar jyamitik nokshay boshonter chobi dekhe thomke dnariyechi. amar priyo buddher murtir ekta bishal chobi ar kalo barir bishal photograph dekhe hothat jano santiniketoner jonyo khub mon kharap kore uthlo.
dilli shohore ekhon boshonto. kintu ramkinkorer jolronger polash je boshonter bhasha jane, take kothay khnuje pabo byasto ei shohore?
tobu bhalo lage. eka eka gallery-r rasta diye hnatte hnatte ghasher opor jhore pora palaguloke hothat khub rongeen mone hoy..
ami chobi ankte pari na..kintu ronger bhasha porte pari..jolronger polash tai je boshonter kache amake niye jete chay, ami je tar theke onek dure..nijer moner modhye tai amio enke niy amar oboyobheen boshonter chobi,lak polash jege thake shei chobir patay patay..
jolronger bhubondanga kimba shillong pahar..neel-sobujer fnake ghorbari..
Ramkinkorer jolronger chobi amake khub beshi kore tane. ami ankte pari na,kintu koyekta ronger chop obornoniyo bhabe rongin hoye othe kolponay.
National Gallery of Modern Art-e Ramkinkor Retrospective dekhte eshe Gallery-r auditorium theke bheshe asha chena ganer sur shune doure chole gechi dorjar pashe..bishal screen-e natyoghorer samner rastata- bristidhoya sobuj. Kalo bari ar kalabhaban chottorke porday dekhte peye hothat ki bhalo je laglo..
Neel jol ronger somudro, sobuje-anka pahar, shada-kaloy anka beral ar jyamitik nokshay boshonter chobi dekhe thomke dnariyechi. amar priyo buddher murtir ekta bishal chobi ar kalo barir bishal photograph dekhe hothat jano santiniketoner jonyo khub mon kharap kore uthlo.
dilli shohore ekhon boshonto. kintu ramkinkorer jolronger polash je boshonter bhasha jane, take kothay khnuje pabo byasto ei shohore?
tobu bhalo lage. eka eka gallery-r rasta diye hnatte hnatte ghasher opor jhore pora palaguloke hothat khub rongeen mone hoy..
ami chobi ankte pari na..kintu ronger bhasha porte pari..jolronger polash tai je boshonter kache amake niye jete chay, ami je tar theke onek dure..nijer moner modhye tai amio enke niy amar oboyobheen boshonter chobi,lak polash jege thake shei chobir patay patay..
Thursday, March 8, 2012
I was trying to write my own 'story of the road' (pOther PNacali) for a long time. Words were not helping me. So, it was becoming a difficult task.On the way to Kolkata suddenly I felt an urge to write on my travel story, Story of the country, the countryside which were known to me- but I have never been there,not even my father.
My early childhood experience of story-telling happened with my grandfather (dada), grandmother (Dadin) and Granduncle (Fuchi). The sources of the story was also a blue-covered notebook whcih was actually owned by my great grandfather but I used to see the notebook in my grandfather's old trunk.
The source of the story was a green village, a few small ponds and a village house.The photographs of the house is kept in the village album. My journey began, destination-the little house of my nischindipur.
I and my friends- Ishani, Anumitra, Ishita, Bidisha and Deepro were exited when a local bus journey was being conducted by lots of international regulations. After hectic immigration tasks, baggage checking, we crossed the no man's land and entered Bangladesh.
I claim myself as a non-religious person. While having tea from a roadside tea stall at Benapole,a sudden comment from a tiny boy, 'Oh! Lokk at the Hindu lady' was absolutely shocking. I can easily say thet a similar comment is not rare in West Bengal for a Muslim lady. But is it Bangladesh? Which fought for 'Bengali' identity? We entered Bangladesh on 16th December, 2011- and the day was celebrated as the 40th anniversary of Muktijuddho.
We crossed the known roads whcih has never been traveled by us.The local bus journey was revealing more wonders.When our bus was crossing Padma through the berge, we discovered that there is a restaurant at the ferry, and it is frying fresh Ilish fishes, the delicious evening snacks welcomed us.
Almost three days in Dhaka was very hectic with paper presentations, adda at Dhaka university's famous Madhuda's canteen, reading beautifully written posters and banners at the campus, eating pulao-kabab-biriyani with the curd drink borhani, a number of rickshaw rides at Dhaka jam, tasting pithes etc.
One memorable event in Dhaka was visiting Rafik jethu-my father's friend. The renowned Tagore-specialist was chairing a session at the conference, when I introduced myself after the session, I was surprised that he remembers my nickname. The next day, when I and Ishita made a visit to his house, I was surprised that he remembers the song which I sang when he visited our house in Calcutta almost ten year ago! We got a surprise lunch at Rafik jethu's place, he also gifted us some books written by him.Rafik jethu has donated all his earnings to the Tagore research institute of Dhaka University and now lives in a small rented flat, still busy with writings.
Another memorable visit was the Bhasha Shahid minar when our friend Sujoy's brothers Rajan adn Gobindo accompanied us.The monument whcih is famous for the garland-decorated photos on 'Ekushe' is not at all well maintained, to our surprise.
For some reason,visit to the national temple Dhakeswari Kali Bari was constantly reminding me that I am a member of the religious minority group of the country.This feeling was a completely new feeling which I never had.The name of the temple is still carried by the famous saree store in Calcutta, but this is the first time we are visiting the familiar temple!
On 19th December evening we started our journey to Barisal-the place where our ancestral house is located. Deepro and Ishita was accompanying me. We rushed to the ferry ghat on Buriganga to board the staemer. Steamer journey was a very familir story for me, so I knew the route, the deck of the steamer was also seemed familar to my surprise! In our small cabin at the steamer, the T.V. was showing a 'Indian Bengali' movie.Dinner was served in the cabin.Early next morning, we reached the Barisal river port on Kirtankhola river.
We took a small e-rickshaw to reach the Ramakrishna Mission where we were planning to stay. After getting our rooms at the mission, we started our journey to explore the town. Barisal Natun Bazar is a busy market place with fish stalls, shops for the famous Balam rice, sweet shops and bakeries.I went to the Shankar Math temple near the famous B.M. college where my Baroma's (great grandfather's sister) name is still curved. We had a grand lunch at the Bismilla Hotel where the rice, subzi, shol fish curry and tha dal was almost identical with my home cooked food. Ishita was surprised that dal is served as the last food item, me and Deepro explained that it is a typically Barisali ritual.
After linch we went to Deepro's grandmother's house.Next to Bibir pukur, a well-maintained pond at Barisal's busy area- the house is now a hospital.The owner, Deepro's granduncle's friend welcomed us and we had a nice chat with him.A reporter from Bangladesh Television clicked our photograph there as they wanted to tell others that the new generation has come here in search of their roots.
Our next destination was najirer pole, a small bridge where our ancestral house and also Deepro's grandfather's house is located.I could easily figure out our house and we got a grand welcome from the owners. My great grandfather sold the house to a friend, but our furniture and utensils are still there with the family.I clicked a photograph sitting on my favourite granduncle fuchi's cot. Nani, Jamil bhai, bhabi, their father and the little boy requested us to have dinner with them. I went to our garden where the old coconut trees are still there (they gifted me some coconuts, the small ghat which I have seen in a number of family photographs is unchanged.I went to the roof. The family still cooks food at my Baroma's kitchen.
Jamil bhai helped Deepro to find out his grandfather's house which has become a vested property now. And at night again we went to our house to have dinner where the pulao, chicken-n-egg stew, prawn, fish and boroi(a fruit which is generally called kul in Bangla) chutney was absolutely delicious.
Next moring, I started the journey to our village Goila, which is a part of Agoiljhara sub-zila now. The village of famous Bijoy Gupta of Manasha Mangal kabyo is a small and green village. On the way, I saw Manasha mandir, my grandfather's school, Goila bazar. To my surprise, I have found that some of my family members and still there in the village. I met Robin Piplai-my cousin brother who took us to see our land.
I saw the ponds which are familiar to me because I have heard of them in the childhood stories. The khirkir pukur still has the ghat. And our house is almost identical in structure with our present house in Calcutta- the doors and windows, the balcony and the design of the roof. I could not enter the house, but visited our neighbour Das' house where the old grandma became extremely nostalgic when she saw me.
I could finally reach the little house. I could actually see the ponds of my grandfather's story. The journey was fruitful.
That was not the end of the journey. We also went to Jibanananda Das's house at Barisal town, the kalibari of Mukundadas near Barisal busstand and started our journey towards khulna that night.
It was not difficult for me to find out my grandmother's house at Khulna town. I remembered she told me how she had left the house without taking her sarees and dolls lying at the house.I also visited her school the 'Coronation High School' and the ghat of the Rupsha river.
Finally moving towards the Benapole border, crossed the border by foot and took an auto for Bongaon railway station. Could not believe that a railway station which is a little far from the border has direct trains for Calcutta.
This is for the first time in my life I had realized that boundaries can create so much distance.This is for the first time in my life I had felt a feeling of losing something big while leaving a place. That was nothing but my childhood tale. But I am sure that I can reach there any moment in my dream, I know.
My early childhood experience of story-telling happened with my grandfather (dada), grandmother (Dadin) and Granduncle (Fuchi). The sources of the story was also a blue-covered notebook whcih was actually owned by my great grandfather but I used to see the notebook in my grandfather's old trunk.
The source of the story was a green village, a few small ponds and a village house.The photographs of the house is kept in the village album. My journey began, destination-the little house of my nischindipur.
I and my friends- Ishani, Anumitra, Ishita, Bidisha and Deepro were exited when a local bus journey was being conducted by lots of international regulations. After hectic immigration tasks, baggage checking, we crossed the no man's land and entered Bangladesh.
I claim myself as a non-religious person. While having tea from a roadside tea stall at Benapole,a sudden comment from a tiny boy, 'Oh! Lokk at the Hindu lady' was absolutely shocking. I can easily say thet a similar comment is not rare in West Bengal for a Muslim lady. But is it Bangladesh? Which fought for 'Bengali' identity? We entered Bangladesh on 16th December, 2011- and the day was celebrated as the 40th anniversary of Muktijuddho.
We crossed the known roads whcih has never been traveled by us.The local bus journey was revealing more wonders.When our bus was crossing Padma through the berge, we discovered that there is a restaurant at the ferry, and it is frying fresh Ilish fishes, the delicious evening snacks welcomed us.
Almost three days in Dhaka was very hectic with paper presentations, adda at Dhaka university's famous Madhuda's canteen, reading beautifully written posters and banners at the campus, eating pulao-kabab-biriyani with the curd drink borhani, a number of rickshaw rides at Dhaka jam, tasting pithes etc.
One memorable event in Dhaka was visiting Rafik jethu-my father's friend. The renowned Tagore-specialist was chairing a session at the conference, when I introduced myself after the session, I was surprised that he remembers my nickname. The next day, when I and Ishita made a visit to his house, I was surprised that he remembers the song which I sang when he visited our house in Calcutta almost ten year ago! We got a surprise lunch at Rafik jethu's place, he also gifted us some books written by him.Rafik jethu has donated all his earnings to the Tagore research institute of Dhaka University and now lives in a small rented flat, still busy with writings.
Another memorable visit was the Bhasha Shahid minar when our friend Sujoy's brothers Rajan adn Gobindo accompanied us.The monument whcih is famous for the garland-decorated photos on 'Ekushe' is not at all well maintained, to our surprise.
For some reason,visit to the national temple Dhakeswari Kali Bari was constantly reminding me that I am a member of the religious minority group of the country.This feeling was a completely new feeling which I never had.The name of the temple is still carried by the famous saree store in Calcutta, but this is the first time we are visiting the familiar temple!
On 19th December evening we started our journey to Barisal-the place where our ancestral house is located. Deepro and Ishita was accompanying me. We rushed to the ferry ghat on Buriganga to board the staemer. Steamer journey was a very familir story for me, so I knew the route, the deck of the steamer was also seemed familar to my surprise! In our small cabin at the steamer, the T.V. was showing a 'Indian Bengali' movie.Dinner was served in the cabin.Early next morning, we reached the Barisal river port on Kirtankhola river.
We took a small e-rickshaw to reach the Ramakrishna Mission where we were planning to stay. After getting our rooms at the mission, we started our journey to explore the town. Barisal Natun Bazar is a busy market place with fish stalls, shops for the famous Balam rice, sweet shops and bakeries.I went to the Shankar Math temple near the famous B.M. college where my Baroma's (great grandfather's sister) name is still curved. We had a grand lunch at the Bismilla Hotel where the rice, subzi, shol fish curry and tha dal was almost identical with my home cooked food. Ishita was surprised that dal is served as the last food item, me and Deepro explained that it is a typically Barisali ritual.
After linch we went to Deepro's grandmother's house.Next to Bibir pukur, a well-maintained pond at Barisal's busy area- the house is now a hospital.The owner, Deepro's granduncle's friend welcomed us and we had a nice chat with him.A reporter from Bangladesh Television clicked our photograph there as they wanted to tell others that the new generation has come here in search of their roots.
Our next destination was najirer pole, a small bridge where our ancestral house and also Deepro's grandfather's house is located.I could easily figure out our house and we got a grand welcome from the owners. My great grandfather sold the house to a friend, but our furniture and utensils are still there with the family.I clicked a photograph sitting on my favourite granduncle fuchi's cot. Nani, Jamil bhai, bhabi, their father and the little boy requested us to have dinner with them. I went to our garden where the old coconut trees are still there (they gifted me some coconuts, the small ghat which I have seen in a number of family photographs is unchanged.I went to the roof. The family still cooks food at my Baroma's kitchen.
Jamil bhai helped Deepro to find out his grandfather's house which has become a vested property now. And at night again we went to our house to have dinner where the pulao, chicken-n-egg stew, prawn, fish and boroi(a fruit which is generally called kul in Bangla) chutney was absolutely delicious.
Next moring, I started the journey to our village Goila, which is a part of Agoiljhara sub-zila now. The village of famous Bijoy Gupta of Manasha Mangal kabyo is a small and green village. On the way, I saw Manasha mandir, my grandfather's school, Goila bazar. To my surprise, I have found that some of my family members and still there in the village. I met Robin Piplai-my cousin brother who took us to see our land.
I saw the ponds which are familiar to me because I have heard of them in the childhood stories. The khirkir pukur still has the ghat. And our house is almost identical in structure with our present house in Calcutta- the doors and windows, the balcony and the design of the roof. I could not enter the house, but visited our neighbour Das' house where the old grandma became extremely nostalgic when she saw me.
I could finally reach the little house. I could actually see the ponds of my grandfather's story. The journey was fruitful.
That was not the end of the journey. We also went to Jibanananda Das's house at Barisal town, the kalibari of Mukundadas near Barisal busstand and started our journey towards khulna that night.
It was not difficult for me to find out my grandmother's house at Khulna town. I remembered she told me how she had left the house without taking her sarees and dolls lying at the house.I also visited her school the 'Coronation High School' and the ghat of the Rupsha river.
Finally moving towards the Benapole border, crossed the border by foot and took an auto for Bongaon railway station. Could not believe that a railway station which is a little far from the border has direct trains for Calcutta.
This is for the first time in my life I had realized that boundaries can create so much distance.This is for the first time in my life I had felt a feeling of losing something big while leaving a place. That was nothing but my childhood tale. But I am sure that I can reach there any moment in my dream, I know.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Bhanga rastay pore ache polash phul.kolkata shohorer chena rasta, ebhabe hnata hoyni onek bochor.dhuloy mishe jaoya polash phuler rong tobu dhulidhushor hoye jay ni..
kolkatar rong hothat onnorokom lage.chokher berongin frame-e koyek tukro lal polash.chena rastar mor theke eka eka hnatte thaki.abcha surer resh poth dekhay.notun kore hothat bnachte icche kore,amar shohore..
kolkatar rong hothat onnorokom lage.chokher berongin frame-e koyek tukro lal polash.chena rastar mor theke eka eka hnatte thaki.abcha surer resh poth dekhay.notun kore hothat bnachte icche kore,amar shohore..
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