Reflections

I am slowly turning into a coconut

2009-05-02T07:27:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I am trying to maintain a dream diary. I sporadically make some entries in it, like if there's a dream which I can remember long enough after waking up. So, here's one I had lately --- it was so funny that I thought :"I gotta have this one on my blog !!!" I am pasting it here exactly as I had entered it in my diary:

An utterly strange one, which prompted me to re-open my long closed dream diary. Me and sis going on a local train, bound to God-knows-where (but got a shrewd idea that it's somewhere in the US ---can't really say why, it's a dream-feeling). A lungi-clad hawker enters with his ware ---- “guro mishti” (powdered sweets). Immediately without thought of whether I had any change or not, I lay out my palms before him, and he obliges me with a huge chunk. I can hear sis doing the same (and smiling within myself at the thought that even she couldn't resist the temptation).

Next, I browse my wallet. No change – no currency at all. So, I come up with a “brilliant” idea ---- I say to the hawker : “Dada, I have got only dollars, but you can't take that. So, here's your mishti back.” But, somehow, the amount of mishti had drastically reduced --- dunno why. Now, as soon as I said this, I felt really good about it, and was conscious of the other passengers' awed stares.

But, the hawker did not feel good about it. And he did a strange thing – he demanded to see my wallet, like a kind of ticket-checker. What an audacity !!! Did he think of me as a small kid !!! Demanding to see another grown-up's wallet --- can you imagine !! So, of course, I refused --- with amiable anger (that an “Vilayat-ferot” should show). “Dada, here, I am returning back your stuff, I haven't got any Indian money--- I can't do anything about it while I am on the train.”

Cut to the next scene – he has a maroon wallet in his hand and he is fishing through it. I am beside myself with rage ---- now that my prestige is all down the drains. So, I lose all amiability and scream :”How would you like if I went through your personal things ?????????” And then grabbed one personal thing of his which was very conspicious through his lungi. In visible pain, he immediately returned the wallet (and of course, my punctured prestige). He was now scared of me and turned tails and went to the next compartment. I looked after him with a smirk on my face, daring him to try that kind of game with me another time. And of course, I was conscious of all the overawed stares from my co-passengers.

Finally, KGP-ians do the right thing !!!

2009-03-24T21:40:00.000-07:00

I won't waste cyberspace in writing another post on the incident. I was not there --- I have not seen it. So, I am not in a position to write about it. There's millions of posts out there --below are links to some which I read, will keep updating the list as I come across them.

The reason the new development affects me is this : I did not know Rohit Kumar, and it will be only a pretense to say that the loss has hit me as hard as it has hit some people out there. My extended self only covers my acquaintances and I did not know Rohit Kumar. But when I see two students in their twenties in an ambulance trying to desperately save their friend's life and then later coming back with his deadbody, and then when I hear the institute director looking upon the enraged students as poor wretched children who know not what they are doing----that's when my blood starts boiling. And then when I see the KGP-ians ---the brand that I knew, the brand that never cared for anything save career, the brand that I am ashamed to say I myself belong to---go do what they have done, I get this gut feeling that somewhere in the midst of all this, probably some irreversible changes have taken place. Please, please, let my feelings be true !!!! And all the KGP-ians out there ---here's another fan of you saying :hats off to all of you who smashed the diro's car!! How I wish I could be with you there !!!

For people who will be reading this, people who have previously only read the press releases, I am trying to pool some of the resources in my blog here :
1a. Here's the scholar's avenue, the student magazine's faithful reporting of the incident (I understand they had to save their asses, hence I would not go into taking their implications part too seriously):
http://scholarsavenue.blogspot.com/2009/03/explanations.html

1b. Another student mouthpiece--Awaaz---has also done some good bit of reporting. Here's the link to the latest step taken by the board of governors of IITKGP (look at the comments below to see the real implications) :

http://awaaziitkgp.blogspot.com/2009/03/justice-umesh-c-banerjee-appointed-as.html

2. Here's the one that really shocked me : it was not the post, which was really a well-measured one, but it was the picture inside that post (the first one) that really got on my nerves. I have seen that before, and my first reaction was that these individuals should be lined in front of a firing squad and fired at.
http://rahulmunshi.wordpress.com/2009/03/23/the-french-revolution-next-door/#comments

3. Here's another post, that's probably not so measured ---but had I been there, I would not have been so measured as well, hence I particularly liked this one :

http://thereafterrip.blogspot.com/

4. And it's really good to see some people out there trying to look for alternative ways to save the situation. So, even if BC Roy Hospital is never revamped (you never know with these people whose jobs are always secure ), KGP-ians still have a way out.

http://docs.google.com/Doc?id=dczr5869_31cb3bvpfx

As I said, I'll keep updating my pool of resources as I come across them.

Review : Meghe dhaka tara (The cloud-capped star)

2009-03-17T09:46:00.001-07:00

Firstly, I hate Ritwik Ghatak. No, that's just it -- I can't stand his movies (I tried watching "Jukti, Tokko and Goppo" --"Reason, Debate and a Story" and stopped midway through it). For the sophisticated me, he's an overblown simpleton. But, ...(am scratching my head here), towards the end of "Meghe Dhaka Tara",even I couldn't stop my tears. And hence the confession : even, extreme, jerky melodrama works.

That's what this one was. Melodrama taken to a point of no-return. And jerky too. In one frame, Nita (Supriya) is sober and in the very next (and with Ghatak's films, you can tell each frame distinctly), she has a close-up smile on her face, that casts doubt on her sanity. If it were left to me, I would show this movie to students as an example of how to make a very bad movie or as an example of how movies can be made with very little use of technology. But, somehow, this cut through all the chords. Well, could be, it has something to do with the chords themselves --- but then, it's not just me.

Well, trying to act like a Ritwik-Ghatak-fan (instead of just the opposite), I'll say this movie has loads and loads of emotional appeal. And most of us are not critics, who start judging right from the word "go". And hence with our emotion swept away (under a tsunami of melodrama), we surrender with pants down. "Ya, go ahead !!" There's an opinion (I don't say this is mine) that a movie should primarily appeal to the senses before even the gray cells, and this one just does not appeal--it blows them away. You feel Nita's helplessness surging in you, you feel like bashing to pulp all those geniuses leeching on her, you feel like screaming to Nita:"Are you fucking blind ? Don't you see ?"

And the famous last scene. " I, too, wanted to live. " Reverberating. Fading out. If you are tough enough to be still clutching on to your pants, you are bound to let go there. Only at two points in the movie has this confession come from her (once earlier, while she was speaking with her brother, when she wanted to revisit their childhood). Probably, that and the extremely explicit characters all around her made her resilience stand out and it is this resilience that forms the central them of the movie --- had it been someone else (I mean Ray here :P), he would have taken away even those two instances. But this is not someone else ---this is Mr. Screamer who would scream till his lungs burst out. And come on, you can't be that hard a nut to crack !

To sum up, I cracked despite myself and hence all this psychoanalysis. I guess this was more a review of the viewers than the thing they would view (maybe also a review of the blog-writer himself), but I can't help it. Even jerky, melodrama works and I just realised I can't throw it away.

Movie Review : Gulaal

2009-03-15T10:59:00.000-07:00

Statutory warning : This review may be biased since the blogger is a self-proclaimed diehard fan of Mr. Maverick.

High points : Screenplay, acting, cinematography, lyrics, music direction

Weak points : Editing

Coming close on the heels of Dev D, this movie takes AK's fabulous journey one step ahead. Despite the fact that this movie was rid with flaws, it was nevertheless a joyride for the spectator. And for a diehard fan like me, this was sheer delight.

First the flaws. The editing of this movie looks very hastily done. Scenes come popping out of nowhere at times. It seems the editor sat down with a pair of super-sharp scissors and hence left no delta-room for transitions. Sometimes, a scene or two just flew by without the viewer even realising what the hell happened (for example, it took me a while to realise that Dileep was no longer the GS, despite a small scene to that effect). I am no expert, but it seemed AK had TOO clear a vision of which scenes he wanted to emphasize and which sweep under the rug and it left the viewer no room to think for himself.

I also had another problem with the pacing of the movie. It seemed to me that the movie somehow had reached its crescendo somewhere in the middle (here comes out my non-expertise: I can't pinpoint where). And once you reach the crescendo, you can only stay put there and any effort you make to go higher only breaks your voice. Well, without mincing any more words, I am speaking of the extreme nature of the climax here. It needed something like that , the movie. Anything else there would have been an anticlimax.

This makes it look like a very dilute kind of soup, which it was not, no way. Every moment of the movie was brand AK. It's another matter that they didn't add up well. But that does not take much away from the individual moments themselves. And that brings me to the screenplay -- which was simply mind-boggling. AK is first a screenplay writer and then the rest and that shows. Frankly speaking, the movie could have done without anything else --- all atmosphere-building and stuff like that was ingrained in the screenplay itself. That was what lifted an otherwise oft-repeated story with an unnaturally melodramatic ending to something worthy of all its hype.

Though the movie was AK's baby all the way, let's not forget the cast that finally went on the field. Kay Kay did what he does best, but it was the shades of insecurity behind the facade that interested me --something which the General in "Shaurya" did not have (and did not need to). Raja Choudhary as the protagonist looked just the everyday dupe marooned in a bad, bad world. The women in the movie --it's nice to see that the role of women in Bollywood films are evolving to the stage that they no longer seem to be needless adjuncts who in no way develope the story. What especially found favour with me was the quiet screen presence of the brother-sister duo. Just like the rest of the cast, you never realised how menacing they were, till the point where they actually revealed the dagger from under their cloaks.

And the songs--boy o boy, I am going to buy the mp3-s of this one !! They were outrageous !! The lyrics --well, one thing's for sure, it went along with the screenplay. And apart from the "Ranaji" one (which was itself a yummy curry ), the others just served as mood-enhancing backdrops ---another giant leap for Hindi cinema from the days where watching Hindi cinema on the big screen was a pain since you could not fast forward through the songs. But, probably, there were a tinge too many of these mood-enhancers and probably, at the end of the day, that took away some of the fizz. Like in the climax, I am not sure whether the song was a good idea.

And of course, if it's an AK movie, you cannot complain about the cinematography. He is arguably the best in this field (in Indian cinema) at present and his unabashed use of colours is just one hallmark of how mature he is at his art.

All in all, this was a movie rife with its fat share of moments, and that is what I expect the viewer to take away from this one. Again, I am no expert, but somewhere down the line, probably, a more patient approach would done more justice to these moments and lifted them from mere mortality to something more transcendental (am being really mushy here, hope the reader understands what I mean)

Thinking back, I find it a curious fact that no Indian filmmaker before this had ever ventured into the murky waters of college politics before. A film about collegegoers had mostly been confined to a tale of chasing after lady love. Even realist movies have hardly ever ventured into this arena. But, ironically, this is where the seeds are sown and this is where most men are made or broken. If anyone reading this could come up with an Indian movie on the realities of college life which skipped me, please....

Coming up -- Review : Meghe Dhaka Tara (The cloud-capped star)

Movie review : Pickup on South Street

2009-02-10T22:16:00.000-08:00

A 50's classic film-noir. For someone conversed with this genre, just saying this much should be enough. I am starting to have a thing with this word "genre" --- it somehow reminds me of a flock of sheep all branded alike with no way to tell one from the other. Instead of Richard Widmark and Jean Peters, it could well have been Cary Grant and Ingrid Bergman (Notorious) or Humphrey Bogart and Mary Astor ( The Maltese Falcon). You know that the tough guy has a soft spot there somewhere and the helpless girl is going to hit the dart right there. So, 'whether' is never the right question, it's more like when. Well, maybe real life works that way, too, but somehow that makes things too simple for me to digest.
And the thing that pissed me off was the "commie" connection. Throughout the movie, they use the word "commie" like it's some kind of leper or worse. When that "mole" lady says, " Why do I hate the commies ?", I feel :"Okay, maybe I'll get an insight here." To tell the truth, I do get an insight. I get to know that during those "scary" days of the cold war, the average street-smart American had not a single clue about what the word "communist" stood for. Such complete brainwashing !! Something only a government can do. And we are speaking of a developed nation here (at least, it used to be one back then). Well, so much for developement.

My first post after coming to the US: The Mumbai terror attacks

2008-12-03T17:36:00.001-08:00

It speaks volume about my lacklustre life here that my first post on US soil happens to be about something across the seas. Ummm, not really. Correction: It speaks volumes about my reluctance to put my head into anything other than homeworks and TA duties. Anyway, I am finally breaking the shackles here. Like all desis here, I have been glued to NDTV live on the web for those few days (rather, my roommates have been and I got regular updates from them, and sometimes I too strolled into their rooms and had glimpses of Barkha Dutt doing her stunts) --- this being thanksgiving break here, we had the space to do so. So, I think I know what I am talking about.

But, more than the live event, I have also read zillions of reports here and there --- starting from "The Statesman" upto "The Washington Post", even going through some Israeli newspapers in between. The Indian newspapers mostly saluted the heroes and villified the politicians (not that they did not deserve it), while the American newspapers mostly lauded the resilience of the Indians and some went on to criticize the lapses in the administration (why India had no effective anit-terrorism law and why ...well, after being here on American soil for some time, I fully appreciate why the Americans have so many "why"-s to ask of India). I also delved into the posts appearing everywhere on the web --- on the shameless politicians, on the fearless NSG-s, on the mindless terrorists, on the protectionless aam aadmi (common man) ... and everyone has his own take on the event --- his own perspective. There has recently been some interesting observations coming from the Students' Council of India members here on how the bootlicking media is focussing only on the Taj and Trident where the rich and the moneyed holed up, and giving the cold shoulder to the victims of the shootout in, for example, the Chhatrapati Shivaji Terminus. They really had some issues there. And they were right when they pointed out how amusing it was to see all semblances of the resilient Mumbai vaporing into thin air, when the biggies got a slap on their face --- yes, I am speaking of how people like Shobha De reacted. So, as I was saying, it's all there on the web.

So, I thought why not give my perspective, too, for whoever cares to listen. The question that bugged me (like, I guess, it did everyone else) is: what's the way out ? We seem to be plummeting deeper and deeper into this shit. A craving for security is what defines common people like me, and the cover around me now seems riddled with holes. The reach of the menace-makers seem to be getting more and more outrageous, and however higher up I climb, I am not safe. So, again, what's the way out ? Increased security ? Think of the harassment. Damn it, I'll bear any length of harassment if my life is safely bottled up. Really ? Okay, granting that you understand the magnitude of what you have to pay for increased security, let's do a reality check on what you are asking for. Exactly, at what points do you want security ? For whom do you want security ? The kind of people who stay in the Taj ? No, FOR EVERYONE !!!

Okay, okay, okay -- for everyone. So, let me see---- that means, I would need police posts at the railway stations, supermarkets, hotels, restaurants, schools, hospitals (no kidding, heard they went for a hospital too), temples (mosques ?), offices (which ones ?), libraries, ....well, can't say all that in one breath, need a glass of water, please. Yes, as I was saying, libraries, universities, .... Wait a moment, you are ranting off all the institutions that ever existed ? So, isn't that your demand ---giving protection to everyone ?

At this moment, someone in the audience barks out : Obviously, you are being deliberately ridiculous !!! Any child knows that increased security to embrace the 1.1 billion aam aadmi in this aam aadmi-infested country is a fool's dream. It's the intelligence that needs to be beefed up.

Strikes like these need to be pre-empted. Let's take that one now. Did I hear incorrectly or there was actually a warning that a thing like this one could happen ? Why wasn't any action taken ? Sloth ? Callousness ? These are just early days now and the can of worms is yet to be opened. But, my guess here is that warnings like these are hardly specific as to detail. Specially, when the core group conducting these are safely housed abroad, it speaks volumes of the intelligence's efforts that any warning was got at all ---any tip-off that comes must be coming from a minnow who has only a chunk of the big picture to offer. So, you never know when they will strike or who the roaches in your cabinet are. Then how long do you keep your system on high alert based on a tip you are not even sure about ? Coming to think of it, this line of argument is no less ridiculous.

I refuse to believe that in a country with a population as vast as India's, it is humanly possible for an intelligence to get a whiff from all the cups boiling everywhere --- even the eye of Sauron (forgive my obsession with LOTR) would have strike a stumbling block here.

The third one that's popular goes like this : block all channels from Pakistan. After all the skeletons that tumbled out during the investigations into the 1993 Mumbai blasts case, do we still seriously believe that it's ALL Pakistan ? That they never had any local help ? That they never sought any ? That this time, too, there wasn't a Sanjay Dutt (witting or unwitting) who did not house their weapons ? So, this set me thinking: how on earth do we clean our own backyards ? That got me to the question : why in the name of goodness would someone support such terror elements ? Which led me to do some research on my own. I haven't yet seen any light in this pitch black all around, but I am seeing certain things, and for those who would care to listen, I would like them to see these too.

To start with, I was stumbled on the question: what purpose do these terror attacks serve ? The motive question, if you please. So, I tried reading the news more minutely : what's the terrorists' viewpoint ? (They must have some: can't just be a band of Jokers letting loose hell) Every leading daily had this in some obscure corner : a group called Deccan Mujahideen claimed responsibility for the attack. Okay ? And ? I read again and again and came up with hardly anything else. Some of them went a teensy bit further : they spoke about general Mujahideedin grievances about some Maulana being harassed (those that put this one up hastened to also flash the news that the Maulana had condemned these dastardly attacks and would have nothing to do with such people). So ? Was this all ? 175 lives spent, just because some Maulana was harassed ? Unbelievable !!! I couldn't stop at that. So, I browsed further and bless the Internet, came up with the full texts of some previous e-mails from terrorists post some earlier attacks.

These are the ones I want everybody to read:

The first one's after the Delhi blasts:

http://islamicterrorism.wordpress.com/2008/09/17/delhi-blasts-full-text-of-indian-mujahideen-email/

The second one is before the Ahmedabad blasts:

http://islamicterrorism.wordpress.com/2008/08/07/full-text-of-indian-mujahideen-14-pages-email-on-terror-attacks/?referer=sphere_related_content/

The questions that I put up before everyone is as follows:

1. Obviously, their accusations do not justify their actions, but is their any water in what they say ? If yes, why do the press ignore it altogether ? I do not remember any daily bringing out these e-mails after the attacks.

2. Even if there is no water in their arguments, if this is the way a sizeable population of Muslims in our country think, then it is horrifying to think of the extent to which we have alienated them to make them think like this. And doesn't there lie something for every single one of us to do ?

3. And I end with two of my age-old questions, to which I never got a satisfactory answer:

a. How are these terrorists different from the extremists of the Indian Freedom Movement ? Remember, those extremists had killed numerous British civilians. How can we laud them as heroes and condemn these terrorists as scumbags in the same breath ? After all, even these ones are sincere in their cause (boy, don't you dare challenge their sincerity --- they are ready to give up their life to their cause) and there is a significant portion of Indians (Muslims, if you please) who at least mentally applaud their deeds, just like there was a significant portion of Indians who supported the extremists of those days (note: Even in those days, the extremists never got overwhelming support)

b. Isn't this the right time to dump all our religions as a whole into the nearest trash can ? Can't we seriously do without one more cause to divide ourselves ?

My First Day at Vellore

2008-07-26T09:36:00.001-07:00

* Musaddilal goes to Vellore"
This is an account of my first day at CMC, Vellore. I had written it just after the day was over, that is, when all the imprints were still fresh. Now, since then, a week of traipsing all across that campus had followed. So, I have got a better outlook of things. Nevertheless, the primary conclusion I had drawn on the first day remains more or less untouched. So, I am presenting that day's account just as I had penned it right then, without any change whatsoever. If had to write a conclusion (just as I used to write in my +2 lab note books), it would be this : The only saving grace of CMC, Vellore, are the docs, otherwise there's really no need to go all the way there.

Here goes :

Phew ! After this trip of CMC, Vellore, I have a feeling that I can take on BSNL anytime. And they say CMC Vellore is customer-friendly !! But for an off-chance we took, we were about to board the return train to Howrah today itself (not by the Yeshvantpur Express, God forbid!!!!)

I guess I am starting to get a bit gibberish now (which is not very unusual given that I had been managing only four hours of sleep for the past three nights). So, let me go through --- what do they call it ? --- ah, the proper channels !!! Let me start with our dear good old Indian Railways. who never cared to mention anywhere that the Yeshvantpur Express would be going by a roundabout route ( a railway bridge had collapsed somewhere beyond Kharagpur). We had gathered from hearsay that of all trains that were off-routed (gee, my new-coined word sounds tantalisingly close to uprooted), the Yeshvantpur Express was blissfully exempted. Thus, it happened that not only us but about a two-thirds of the train was packed with patients bound for Kathpadi (the nearest station to Vellore)., happy with the knowledge that they would be there in one day and six hours' worth of chugging along with the train ( Let me get my hands on the fellow who had started this hearsay).

Well, there was little we could do once the train had taken off. Slowly snippets of news started pouring in ---- "Dada, train ta bodh hoi ghure jabe", "Na, na, ghure jabe ke bollo ?","Oi je, TT naki bolechhe","Pantry-r lokta bolchhilo" ("Bro, the train's taking a longer route","Who said so ?"," Heard the TT saying something to the effect", "The guy from the pantry told.") Once this set of murmurs subsided, another one took its place ---how much was the longer route going to delay us ? "Kom se kom baro ghonta.","Na, na, makeup kore nebe.","Ekhon kon route diye jai dekhun.","Kathpadi shyam se pehle to nahin pohuchhega." ("At least, twelve hours.","No, sir, the train's sure to make up the loss.","Wait a moment, first see which route this one takes.","Won't be before afternoon that we reach Kathpadi."). The last piece of prediction came from the pantry, and to our utter dismay and hopelessness, unlike the train, its pantry was not far off-course.

So, it was that we made it to Kathpadi ten and a half hours past our scheduled appointment time (whereas, we were supposed to be there six hours before time). I am not detailing on the train journey since this blog's all dedicated to CMC. Let the reader imagine the feelings of the people cooped inside steel coaches for close to forty-eight hours ( a good chunk of it spent in unscheduled stoppages and a greater chunk in insufferably hot weather ---hence my sleeplessness.)

Now, let me embark on the story of the day --- CMC, Vellore. Last night, the person at the reception counter had waved us away with something to the effect that we were to go counter G30 in the OPD block. Today, we were there sharp at 7 (the opening hours), partly propelled by one of the town's not-so-infrequent power cuts (as we were to know later). Incidentally, there did not happen to be any G30 in the OPD block (as the attending nurse in the door to the Blood Bank told us). So, we made it to the reception in the OPD Block (not the one mentioned earlier) and explained our situation. The helpless smile on the face of the receptionist girl should have told us that we were going to have told us that we ere going to have a very hard day. It didn't. That's what reputation does. And CMC had quite a lot of it to boast of.

Anyway, with a new registration slip in hand and an entry pass stuck on our shirts we were soon soon in a queue at the MRO counter (OPD block, first floor, room 101). There, we were told that the appointment had lapsed (to be interpreted as an irretrievable thing). and the only possible way was a new registration (to be interpreted as "when your turn comes"). Still, we might try our luck with the Rheumatology MRO on the floor above. We tried. The only words that could escape our mouth were : "We had an appointment yesterday at 8:30 am...." before pat came the retort: "It's lapsed." (Need they bang it into our heads that hard ?) Still, the Rheumatology Dept. Secy might help us.

This Rheum. Dept. office happened to be on the outskirts of the campus (It might sound as if I am finding fault with everything here, but I was definitely sorry for the other gentleman, a fellow victim of the Railways, who could barely walk and had to drag his feet right across the CMC campus from the OPD to the Rheum. Dept. --- his hip joint had been replaced in an operation.) So, we go there and tell the Secy of our plight. It did not look like he could do much to help, but he directed us to one Mrs. Regina, who had the receipt of the draft we had sent. Where did she sit ? Why, in the OPD Block !!!

If my story has a villain, here she comes. There's always someone. If anyone has cared to go through my BSNL saga, there it was R.N. Mondal. Here, it was Mrs. Regina. "Madam, I had an appointment with Dr. Debashish Danda, but our train was 16 hours late. So, we missed the appointment. Can something ---? "

--"Patient's naime ?"

--"Anirban Gangopadhyay."

--"Please sit down."

Here, father popped in. "We are ready to meet any other rheumatologist, not necessarily Dr. Danda--"

--"Please sit down."

So, we sat. This was unexpected. Will the appointment be rescheduled today itself ? That was nice. Anyway, ten minutes. In the meantime, several other heads popped in with several other stories, and each one got the curt reply --"Please sit down." Another five minutes and I thought I at least ahd a right to know what the hell she was up to.

--"Madam, shall we get to meet Dr. Danda today ? I mean, does he see patients today ?"

--"Please, sit down." ( I started wondering whether that constituted the entire range of her vocabulary.)

So, we sat. Mercifully, five minutes later, I heard my name called.

--"Yes, ma'am ?"

She handed me a slip. I glanced through it and saw that the appointment with Rheum. Consultant I (presumably, Dr. Danda) had been re-scheduled on the 28th of July (that is, thirteen days from now).

--"But, ma'am, we can't wait till then. We are running on a tight schedule."

--"I am sorry. I don't know any other way."

You old hag, why won't you at least listen us out before changing the date ?

--"Ma'am, we are ready to see any other rheumatology doctor ---"

--"Sorry."

--"I mean, no other doctor is available ?"

--"No."

Good Lord !! And they say CMC Vellore is customer-friendly !! So this was the end of the road, was it ? The most we could do was wait the 21st and here she was saying that 28th was the earliest she could manage.

So, now comes the off-chance we took. We again went all the way to the Rheum. Dept. Office and approached the Secy. This time, we decided to shed all semblances of formality. "Look here, we came all the way from Kolkata. And it's not everyday that trains are 17 hours late. Can't something be managed ? See, the only option for us now is to make all the way back wihtout seeing anyone." Again, he gave me that helpless glance. (I got a bitter taste of irony here ---often, the peiople who do understand are the ones too powerless to do anything about it.) Anyway, this time, he told us to wait in the lounge while the class in the adjoining room got over.

Another period of waiting. This time, it was longer --- clsoe to one hour, in which time, various reflections dawned on me, like how the classroom atmosphere suffocated me, and why the hell I was going for graduate studies which clearly did not suit me. Along with it was the bitter hunch that the only reason I was told to wait was his apprehension that I might create a ruckus vitriloic enough to disturb the tranquility of the adjoining class. Better let him cool down while the class was over and then administer the bitter pill. If that was his intention, it would not have worked -- you re not going to see the back of me so wasily, mister. I was only heating up.

The class finally disbanded. I again popped my head in. This time, the Secy was more forthcoming. "Please, I'll try to talk to the doctors." So, was he the good duy, then ? I waited. Doctors came and went, and finally one of them heard things out. But, it seemed he was helpless, too. He made some kind of calculations as to availability and then ruefully shook his head. So, no option ? I could go under the " general" category, where some Rheum. dept. junior will see me and he might refer me to his senior if he thought so (something I knew would never come mainly because there was no time for it). Still, half a loaf was better. So, when can that be arranged ? 17th, the day after tomorrow. Here, he gave me an advance OPD registration slip, and told me to show that at any of the cash counters in the new building. There, my appointment fee would be refunded and a new general registration done for fifty bucks.

Hooph !! Even writing the wholw thing is tiring me out. If I was udner the illusion that it would be smooth sailing from now on, I was to be disillusioned soon. But, of course, how could I harbur such illusion after all that had passed ? Anyway, I am wrapping up the next few hours in short ( let's see how compact I can make it). Here goes the sequence :

Repeat registration counter 16 ----> repeat registration help desk----> repeat registration counter 16 ---->supervisor ----> repeat registration counter 16 ---->Records section Room B10 to fish out some medical chart of mine they already seem to have made ---->supervisor----> billing section room 105 ---->the room adjoing to that ----> and finally the Indian Bank counter of the CMC where I got back my appointment fee with 120 bucks deducted.

Well, I am not going on a blaming spree here --- clearly, they had their procedures, the "proper channels" (and that the supervisor was absent from his seat for about half an hour and that the lady at the repeat registration counter 16 sent me to the superviosr to get my previous registration cancelled when she had no need to are minor lapses that can be overlooked). But, who really is to be blamed for all this harassment ? After a good deal of reflection on this, I realised it was me. For expecting anything at all. For not being prepared to face this. For not being used to this callousness by now.

By the time we had reached the Indian Bank Counter of the CMC (the last leg), me and father were laughing. Yes, actually laughing. And it had nothing to do with any happy thought.

Sobs and sops : a short play (Part I)

2008-07-09T22:32:00.000-07:00

*Any resemblance found with any person, living or dead, is hardly coincidental*

A tribal war celebration dance. Following which, the dancers depart, revealing the chief and his zombie-like bodyguards in attendance. The chief is seen perching on a human throne, hungrily guzzling some morsels of bread. He is oblivious of the messenger, kneeling before him, trying some subtle ways to attract the chief's attention without infringing on his peace of mind. All of a sudden, the chief's eyes fall on this man.

Chief : Yes ?

Messenger : Please, Sir, if it is not too inconvenient for his Mighty...

Chief : It isn't. Go on.

Messenger : Sir, there are some people waiting for you outside the barricades.

Chief : What for ?

Messenger : I am not sure, Sir. They say, they have the most urgent business.

Chief : While I am having lunch ?

Messenger (hurriedly interrupting) : Oh, no, Sir, only after you are through with it.

Chief : That's more like it. You had almost got me thinking that---

Messenger : I wouldn't dream of it.

Chief : So I thought. (Here, the chief extends his hands, whereupon , two of the persons forming the throne start licking it clean.) Bring them on. But not more than three. And not more than one at a time.

(Messenger leaves. The chief then opens his mouth, whereupon a bodyguard picks his teeth with a twig. Messenger enters, followed by sub-chief 1)

Sub1 : Greetings, your Mighty the---

Chief (still being picked) : Awryyyy. Tate ya biyye.

(Sub1 looks a little confused. Chief impatiently waves at his bodyguard, who hastily removes the twig.)

Chief : State your business, fellow warrior.

Sub1 : Your Mighty the Great---

Chief : Forget all that. What makes you come here ?

Sub1 : I come as representative of the Hook-nosed clan, with a petition for your Mighty the Great Defender of the ---

Chief : What petition ?

Sub1 : Your people are suffering, your Highness. They do not know whom to appeal to unless you take them under your liberal shelter. They have nowhere to go other than to you, your Mighty the Great Defender of the Rights of the---

Chief : Suffering from what ?

Sub1 : Surely, with your omniscience, you know all that ?

Chief : Yes, yes, I know. What do want me to do ?

Sub1 : Nothing, your Highness--

Chief : Nothing. Then ?

Sub1 : Nothing much, your Highness. Some protection, that's all. You can surely see what we, the people of the Hook-nosed clan suffer for ...for, well, our hooked noses. We are shoved aside by people with Not-so-hooked-noses, and sometimes, even the Flat-nosed people look down upon us. We find no place in the royal policy, no share in the administration, no place in the higher echelons of our tribe. We have become the dust of the earth...

Chief : Come, now, spit it out. What do you want me to do ?

Sub1 : Nothing much, your Highness. Just throw some crumbs at us. Or else we feel so insecure, so cornered.

Chief (confused) : Throw some crumbs ?

Sub1 : Can I speak to you in private, Your Mighty the Great Defender of the Rights of the Underprivileged and--?

Chief : You mean--(looks all around, while sub1 eyes him meaningfully, then nods his head at the bodyguards to leave, which they do)---now, speak.

Sub1 : Is this all the privacy you can manage, your Highness ?

Chief : What the -- ? Ohh, you mean them (pointing at his throne) They are deaf. They can't hear a word of what we say.

Sub1 : Ahem. Now, how much faith do you have in your clansmen ?

Chief : As much as in myself.

Sub1 : You can't be trusting them that much, or else you wouldn't have driven them out just now. Anyway, let me tell you something in private -- we, the Hook-nosed clan respect you too much, or else, we never speak these things outside our clan---anyway, your clansmen do not deserve your trust. They speak ill of you behind your back. It hurts us, I swear it does. Still, we keep mum. We are born to keep mum even if we or the ones we love suffer, so we keep mum. We would still have done so, if things had not come to this pass.

Chief : What pass ?

Sub1: Your Highness, there is this plot being hatched. To oust you. Your own clansmen, hatching this plot.

Chief : How do you know ?

Sub1 : We are all around, Sir. People think we are the dust of the earth, so they speak even when we are present....they think we do not care for you, so they are free with their words.

Chief : I don't believe you.

Sub1 : I am not asking you to believe me. I am merely confirming what you already must have guessed. Haven't you known all along that this was coming ? Haven't you known that ---

Chief : So, I get your point. What do you want from me ?

Sub1 : We only want the chance to support you when you are alone. We only want the chance to die fighting for you. All we want---

Chief claps his hands whereupon the bodyguards reappear.

Chief (to sub1) : I understand your sufferings. Please tell your men that I have my utmost sympathies for the Hook-nosed clan. For this moment onwards, they shall be known as The Sons of God. Also, they shall have a place for them in every administration, in every center of excellence, even in the Royal Guards. They shall receive supreme attention in every training facility and shall---

Sub1 : Your Highness is truly worth every letter in his title, but, as you can surely see, our men are no match for the people with not-so-hooked-noses. If it comes to a contest for the post, we shall not have a foot to stand upon unless your Majesty the Great Defender of the Rights of the Underprivileged and Solemn Guardian of ---

Chief : You did not understand me. The posts I mention shall be only and solely for you. They shall go begging if none of your people apply, but they will not go to anyone else.

Sub1 : When I was coming here, I had told my people that His Majesty understood our woes and would never let us down. Though he does not have a hooked nose, yet he is one of us. When the time comes, your Highness, we shall be behind you--

Chief : Ahem. It's alright. You may go now. (in a louder voice) Send the next man in.

(Sub1 leaves. Sub2 enters)

Chief : Yes ?

Sub2 : Greetings, your Majesty, on behalf of the Small-feet clan--

Chief : I never knew this one existed.

Sub2 : Precisely, our point, your Highness. No one seems to know that we exist.

Chief : Wait a moment, you are telling me the same sob story that your predecessor told me just a few moments ago.

Sub2 : The chief of the Hook-nosed clan, wasn't he ? Now, you surely did not grant their wishes, did you ?

Chief : Why not ? They seemed to need my help.

Sub2 : Oh, but there are others needing much bigger dollops of it. Take us, for instance. Because of our small feet, we cannot make enough space for ourselves. When it comes to a rush, our feet are the ones that are stamped upon.

Chief : Why, with your small feet, one would have thought it was easier to avoid.

Sub2 : Ohh, but don't you see, we are deliberately stamped upon. People with not-so-small feet think of ways and means of reminding us where we stand. Without you looking out for us, we wouldn't have a leg to stand upon.

Chief : So what would you have me do ?

Sub2 : Same think they did.

Chief : Who ?

Sub2 : Why, the Hook-nosed clan.

Chief : What did they want ?

Sub2 : How should I know ?

Chief : So, why are you asking me if you don't know what you want ?

Sub2 : But, don't you know, your Highness ?

Chief : No, but it's your welfare. And you don't know what you want ?

Sub2 : We want the same thing they wanted.

Chief : And what do I get in return ?

Sub2 : The same thing they gave.

Chief : Are you sure ?

Sub2 : Well, I know their limits.

Chief : They promised me unflinching support in wartimes, a third of their food produce and a fair maiden on every full moon night.

Sub2 : We promise the same.

Chief : So, it is done.

Sub2 : What is done ?

Chief (smiling mischieviously) : The same thing I did for them.

(Sub2 stands a little while, bereft of words. The chief lets out a gigantic yawn, whereupon sub2 decides best not to pursue the matter further and leaves.)

(Sub3 enters.)

Chief: Let me have a look at you.

Sub3 (perplexed) : Your Highness, I do not unerstand--

Chief : Give me a moment. Your feet seem same as mine, your nose the same curve as mine, your eyes are in their places, your beard --- (ecstatically) Ha, there you go !! It's pointed !!!I knew something must be wrong somewhere. You needn't worry. One place reserved for people belonging to the pointed-beard clan in every office of administration, in every center of excellence and even in the Royal Guards. In return, you are to give me your unflinching support in wartime, one-third of your food produce and one fair maiden every full moon night. Also, one sheepskin coat for me every winter. Now, you may go.

Sub3 : You are too liberal, but forgive me, what is the Pointed-beard clan ?

Chief : Why, aren't you their representative ?

(For the rest of the play, contact me at gangopadhyay.anirban@gmail.com)

Jaane Tu...Ya Jaane Na

2008-07-07T06:42:00.000-07:00

*Yet another one churned out from the machine*

Watched the movie Jaane Tu…Ya Jaane Na, by pure accident. Was passing by the movie theater just at the stroke of 12 when the noon show was about to start and thought: why not. Having read some good reviews of this one, thought it was worth taking the risk. And the Aamir-factor was always at the back of my mind.
Can’t say I did not like the movie. Can’t say I liked it, though. Some parts, definitely. But, all in all, the make-believe thing came out too plain on your face. There were some times, when I felt : do such naïve bunch of people really exist ? And if they do, why haven’t I come across at least one ? Right from the beginning, when the rich man’s spoilt brat found himself crying on his rival’s shoulders to the point, where Aditi, despite knowing about the reason behind Jai’s breakup with the chosen “girlfriend”, nevertheless requires verbal acknowledgement of his feelings from Jai. Well, innocence, you’d say ---make-believe, I must say. The picture that is drawn of college-goers---pools of innocence overflowing to the brim---really is taking the stretch of the imagination a tad too far. And all this fuss about finding the right match --- I don’t think any college-goer gives that much time to it. So, all in all, the formula, or pharmoola (saying it the dehati way) was much too apparent. Guess I am becoming like my father (who keeps hunting for a message in every film he sees, not that he sees much of them) --- but at the end of the day, the question kept propping up: what did this all boil down to ?
Neverthless, the movie had its fair share of moments and characters, that are all too real and at the same time, enjoyable. The mother, determined to shield her son from the Rathore blood, was all too delightful. Right from the moment she makes her appearance, you know she’s here to leave an impression. The artist brother of Aditi, who believed in saying things straight in the face, was also brilliant in his glum-ness. The dysfunctional family of Meghna, Paresh Rawal as the “violent” Inspector Waghmare, Naseer as the pop in the picture-frame --- somebody had said that this was a movie of cameos and really he couldn’t have been closer to the truth. Can’t say the same about the gang of Jai and Aditi, including they themselves. Their innocence and naiveté ….but once again, I am going about the same topic.
Also, I had expected the ending to be a bit more intelligent --- I can’t think of anything specific right away, but they could have somehow thought of an ending at the airport, so that the story that they were telling ended in the present. As a matter of fact, it did end in the present, when Jai and Aditi came out, all smiles from the airport terminal, but by then, the interest in the story was over. The final insertion of the frame containing the bearded man waiting for “Mr. Godot” was not nearly intelligent enough --- mostly, because it was more or less lost on the audience, who by then had risen from their seats, as it was expected to, since the audience this movie is aimed at can hardly be expected to have read something as abstract as “Waiting for Godot” (other than, maybe, ones doing their MA in English).
So, overall, this can be lauded as a good effort, but…hell, why not say the truth ? I was definitely expecting better.

BSNL Broadband buyers, beware!!!!

2008-06-28T10:31:00.000-07:00

*Musaddilal Ganguly ke dwara janhit mein jari*

It’s about time someone took the initiative to warn the others. Simply because BSNL provides the cheapest customer service, the middle-class in Bengal aspiring to be internet-savvy is lured by the BSNL Broadband Service, despite the presence of other ISP’s (Reliance, etc.) in the market (I myself belong to that class, so no offence meant). But behind this lucrative offer lies untold stories of severe harassment, each more incredible than the other, even by the standards of efficiency in Bengal. After making five rounds of the Behala Telephone Exchange, requesting for a connection, I know so much.
Anyway, I thought the least I could do was to tell my own story. I could tell many more, but I don’t have the minor details that such stories demand. For anyone more inquisitive about this affair, all he has to do is stand in the queue in front of the Broadband section of the Behala Telephone Exchange between 3 and 4 on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays (a weird time for office-goers) and he will have a fair idea of the grim state of affairs.
Back to my story. It was on the 14th of May that I applied for a Broadband connection. In the application, I had mentioned that I would provide the modem myself (being forewarned by my cousin that BSNL makes a mess of things if you ask them to provide the modem). Then, two days later, we got to know of some free modem scheme BSNL was offering and so my father ran off to the Behala Telephone Exchange to know more. There, he learnt that the under that scheme, the modem would be provided for free, but only as a rental (This means that you are hiring the modem from them for your use, but you don’t have to pay the rent). Thinking that we might after all have to pay some sort of rent once the duration of the scheme was over, father decided on the spot that he might as well purchase a modem from the BSNL itself. To that end, he wrote an application asking them to cancel the previous order and place a new order, whereby BSNL would be providing the modem.
It was then that the mess started. Though we got a free telephone connection through which the broadband would be routed, three weeks elapsed after that ---- no modem, nor any username or password. Father went to the Telephone Exchange. There, at the Customer Services counter, he was shown that a new order has been placed wherein these words were written :”Home-Modem Sale Price One Time @Rs. 1200 by BSNL”. He went off happily, being assured that we shall receive the modem and the username and password soon. A few more days elapsed, and there was still no justification for that assurance. So, this time, my mother took a turn to approach the Telephone Exchange, enquiring about the matter (father not being able to excuse himself off work between 3 and 4 on a weekday). Mother approached the Divisional Engineer(Ext.) and was again assured that the required things would be provided to us soon. This time, they kept their word and we got a modem in two days.
It was two more days later that a guy came from the BSNL to configure the modem, and found that the modem was faulty (Nature of fault: the “data” light blinking though we were not connected. For those not familiar, there are four lights on the modem, of which only three are supposed to blink once the modem is connected to the USB port and the telephone and power supply and the fourth, the “data” light blinks only when you are connected to the Internet). This guy noted it down, got it signed by me and left, saying that a replacement would be provided in one or two days.
Then came the bombshell. A call came from the BSNL, informing us we had supplied our own modem and so they would not care to replace it. I tried to mention that my father had actually seen the new order on their computer screen, to which the person on the other side replied that he had it on his computer screen that we were providing the modem ourselves. Finally, not being sure what procedure my father had followed, I told him that I shall check with my father and call him back. Father told me that evening that he had written an application letter as suggested by the person in the Customer Service.
So, next day, I approach the Divisional Engineer once again and ask him what the hell is going on. He listens to me and suggests me to go to one P.K. Upadhyay (I can’t recall what post this man held, so I am giving the name instead). This P.K. Upadhyay before even listening to me says that a replacement modem would be provided next day. I insist on knowing why I received a phone call telling me that the modem was of my own providing. He says something to the effect that not everybody understands everything and the person who had called me apparently did not understand what a one-time purchase meant. This was utter rubbish, but Mr. Upadhyay simply was in no mood to divulge more.
Now, the next day being a Saturday, I had to wait until Monday before the modem was replaced. I expected someone from BSNL to come and configure it. Come Tuesday, and no one came. Come Wednesday, and I decided to go to the Telephone Exchange just to get their asses moving. Now, just to get things straight, I first went to the “Customer Service” to get a receipt of the second order (that is, a printout of what my father had seen on the computer screen.) They gave me one and it was when I glanced through that, that I noticed where the slip had occurred.
Just as my father had said, there was written on the receipt:” ”Home-Modem Sale Price One Time @Rs. 1200 by BSNL”, but…but…right at the bottom of the receipt were those words which has caused so much pain: “Home-Modem provided by subscriber.” I asked the man at the Customer Service how two contradictory things could be written on the same work order. He had no idea, so he called up someone and then told me that the words written at the bottom are the ones that are followed. But, then, what about my father’s application asking BSNL for a modem ? Hell, he had no idea what had occurred. He suggested me to go to their Alipore office, and explain our problem and also show them a photocopy of my father’s application. (“Why Alipore ? Why not in Behala itself ?” “It is you who want things to be done faster.”) Before leaving the exchange on Wednesday, I just thought I might as well visit the D.E. (Ext.), since this was the only person who actually listened. Now, the D.E. confessed that this was a mistake on BSNL’s part and they were supposed to rectify it. However, since we had got a replacement modem, I might as well make a trip to the Broadband section and ask them to send someone to configure the modem. I did so, and the guy at the Broadband Section (I am telling his name here, since he would come up later too : R.N. Mondal) took down my complaint in an Excel worksheet and told me that someone will come up the next day. I did not mention to him about the contradictory statements on the work order.
Again the next day, that is, Thursday, no one came.

Which brings me to today. I have had a hell of an experience today, and this prompted me to pen down the whole affair. First, I went to that guy at the Broadband Section, who had told me someone would come the day before to configure the modem, that R.N. Mondal. He told me straight away that the modem was of my own providing and after coming to know that, he had expressly told everyone not to do anything concerning it. I showed him the work order and he told me that it was not a new order and that only the body of the previous order had been changed. This R.N. Mondal even had the audacity to tell me :”Apnara BSNL ke jemon ichchhe chalaben sheta to chobe na !!!” (“You can’t run BSNL the way you like!!!”) I was dumbfounded. What had we done? Written an application as mentioned by the man at the Customer Services, in order to place a new order. That instead of placing a new order, they had changed the body of the previous order, that too incorrectly, that was their business and they were supposed to take care of it. However, since this R.N. Mondal had no inkling of how to talk with customers, I thought it best not to argue with him any further. As a last resort, I again went to the D.E. (Ext.). He again repeated that it was BSNL’s mistake, and directed me to some Customer Officer Sanyal. Why not say this to R.N. Mandal that the mistake was theirs? Well, he wouldn’t do that, for some strange reason.
So, I went in search of the said Sanyal and found that he was on training. So now where do I go? To the Customer Services. And the Customer Services had already told me to go to Alipore.

Well, why not configure the modem myself? BSNL had, after all, provided an installation CD. Incredible thought it may sound, I can’t configure the modem myself because the replacement modem they have provided also happens to be faulty (This time, it is only the “power” light that is blinking despite having connected to the telephone and the USB port). At times, it makes me think that BSNL is incurring some sort of vengeance here for not ordering the modem from them in the first place.

This is the state of affairs till now. I have no intention of running to the Alipore BSNL office now for a mistake they have made. Finally, I have decided that since they still have it in their records that I, the subscriber, is providing my own modem, I might as well do so. Then, after that, if they bill me for the defective modem they have provided and would not care to replace, well, we’ll see what can be done then.

The reason I am writing this down is that this is not an isolated incident. Everyday I or my parents have gone to the Broadband Section of the Behala Telephone Exchange, we have seen disgruntled customers fuming over the BSNL’s response to their complaints. “They simply don’t care.”: this is what nicely sums up all their views. So, why still subscribe to BSNL broadband? An aged gentleman, whom I met today, (this was his 18th visit to the Exchange in the recent past with the same complaint), replied: “Jokhon cholchhe bhaloi chole, ekbaar aatke gelo to baas, feshe gelen.” (“Once it’s running, it’s alright, but if you get stuck, you have hell to face.”) Oh, but there are other ISP’s in the market too, isn’t it? “Haa, kintu ami hisheb kore dekhlaam, BSNL shobcheye shosta.” (“Yes, but I calculated, BSNL is the cheapest of the lot.”) For me, this very well sums up the predicament of the middle-class Bengali. When it comes to cheap services, it is the only the Government that stands alone --- but it seems those going for the Government services simply have no right to expect any kind of service at all !!

P.S. I would just like to add this advice from my own experience and that of some people I know: Opt for BSL Broadband service, if money is a serious concern for you, but please, do not ask them to provide modems!! If anything goes wrong, “to baas, feshe gelen” !!

For God's sake

2008-05-27T06:34:00.000-07:00

*Something which intrigues me*
Incidentally, all I have been doing for the past two days have something to do with this subject.
Yesterday, watched the Paki movie:”Khuda ke liye”. Definitely very moving, but not as great as they were all claiming it to be.
What struck me as odd was the degree of reality in the portrayals when it came to the Paki musician-turned-fanatic. The idea I had always harboured was that fanaticism of this intensity came only from economic compulsions. These blokes had nothing to live for or live on, and religion came and filled in that vacuum. For someone to be weaned away from a normal, healthy existence, either something has to be very wrong with his life or some very forceful personality must have influenced him. Clearly, there has been no suggestions as to the first. As for the second reason, taking into account the fact that I could not follow everything, it seemed to me that the Maulana Tahiri was just pulling some dictums out of his turban without any accompanying logic, at best managing with analogies. And that this lured an aspiring musician to give up his passion takes some swallowing. But as I checked on IMDB, people from Pakistan have given some raving reality certificates, which then makes me wonder about the gullibility of this herd joining the fanatic stream…
And then I watched the deleted part (really, that deleted part left a huge gaping hole in the movie, but I guess it had to be deleted lest religious sentiments were touched). Here, too, humanitarian considerations played no role in the trial. It was mostly a question of whether Islam allowed this or not. Why else had the character played by Naseer-ud-din Shah at all to be brought to court in the first place? Does the director intend to say that in Pakistan, despite Shariat laws not being in place, lawmen took their lessons from the Quoran ? If that is not the case, then depicting the trial in this manner was a serious lapse on the part of the director.
Now, I assume that Shoaib Mansoor is not a bad director and he had done some meticulous research before making this film. This makes me wonder…about people who lived their life by religious guidelines, and the reason they do so. The person on the other side preaching those doctrines is also another human being, prone to errors and omissions. How come his words become infallible? In most cases, these young bloods really haven’t the time or enthusiasm to understand or at times to even go through the words of the Holy Scriptures, and it is the interpretations of these Maulanas or Panditjis or Bishops that are taken without question. Not only taken, but these words give enough strength to strap oneself with a live bomb and become “martyrs”. Mind you, I am not speaking of people whose lives have reached a dead end. At least, the movie showed a wider background to these fanatics.
Then, today, I read this article “The relation of science and religion” by Richard Feynman, originally published by Caltech in Science and Engineering, reprinted in The Pleasure of Finding Things Out : The Best Short Works of Richard P. Feynman , brought out by Penguin Science. Unlike his usual lambasting of philosophers, here Feynman was a bit more understanding (probably, age had taught him to be more tolerant). One thing he states very succinctly : that religion has three aspects, namely the metaphysical part, the ethical part and the inspirational part and that the ethical part would remain unscathed even if the metaphysical part receives a mighty blow. That is, you might refuse to believe in your “father’s God” (to use Feynman’s words), but this does not automatically make you throw away the code of conduct your father had laid down for you. In other words, the ethical part is very well detached from the metaphysical part, and the latter is not a necessary condition for the former. This is why an atheist can adhere to the same code of conduct as a God-fearing man. They differ simply in the reason that they adhere to it – one out of the belief that doing so keeps them on the same “side” as God, and the other out of personal as well as social experience. What Feynman stopped short of saying is that this makes the latter’s motivation ostensibly weaker as his code of conduct continues to re-adjust itself with every new experience and he is never on firm ground. However, at the same time, since he knows that the rules have been put together in place not by some supreme, omniscient Being but by a very “human” himself, it is always subject to review and he need not stick to a stance if all experience goes against it. So, his code of conduct is actually stronger since it is backed by experience. Unlike what was shown in the Paki movie, he does not have to browse through the pages of some Scriptures, which for all we know, might have been concocted with a specific motivation in mind, very different from situations and circumstances prevailing now.
This all sounds very reasonable, but where Feynman was finally left clueless and where I too was flabbergasted, on watching this movie, is the inspirational part of religion. How is it possible that those doctrines that in most cases have no basis in logic find such immense following? If I may be so bold as to say this, how are so many people duped by such empty words and such bedtime stories, which goes by the name of parables of the Lord ? Maybe someday I will get to meet such a fanatic in person (or who knows, maybe a terrorist :P) and I shall know better.

Short and Sweet

2008-05-13T07:58:00.000-07:00

*The story of my VISA interview*

How I had imagined it would be

A wizened old lady sitting smug in an armchair with her back facing me, flipping through my documents, when I enter the room. She wheels around at my entry and motions me with one finger to sit down. One glance at me and I feel that she has peeked into the depths of my soul. All around me, voices from nowhere seem to shriek themselves hoarse: “This boy is not going to return. For God’s sake, reject his VISA!!!”
Officer: “So, you are Anirban … ?” (can’t pronounce the rest, gives up after some effort)
Me: “Ye-yes.”
Officer : “You intend to do a Ph.D. ?”
Me: “Yes.”
Officer : “Why not do it here ?”
Me: (With a helpless smile)….”Not sure…” (After great thought, this was the answer I had thought up in case the question was fired at me :”A Ph.D. in an U.S. University is held in great esteem here, and would stand me in good stead, when I apply for professorship here after doing the Ph.D.” You see, I had to convey in some way that I was going to come back, and this seemed a good avenue.)
Officer : “Do you have any brother or sister staying in the US ?”
Me : “No. I mean, there are some distant relations….but hardly any contact with them.” (This was the answer I kept debating about with myself till the last moment: “Is the term ‘distant’ safe ? I mean, supposing they get to know of my cousins, would that still make my statement valid ?”)
Officer : “How will you convince me that you are going to return ?”
Me :” …Umm...I want to stay with my parents…and support them in their old age.” (I knew this was hardly convincing enough, but I simply could not think of a better answer.)
Officer :”Oh, you would say that. Anyway, you may go.” All her countenance telling me, “Better luck next time, only if I am not here.”

How it actually transpired

A teensy stretch of walk all alone (my father was stopped at the gate itself). A strange feeling as if I was Harry Potter walking all alone through the barren corridors of the Department of Mysteries in a nightmare. Then all of a sudden, I burst into a room full of people of all ages waiting their turns to be summoned. Confidence restored. First, I stand in a queue and submit all required documents (HDFC Receipt, Passport, DS-156, 157 & 158, SEVIS fee receipt, I-20, interview letter, GRE/TOEFL scoresheet).
Then, I have my fingerprints taken (and re-taken since the first time, my fingers were moist to the point of blurring the screen hopelessly). And then I lie in wait.
Only 5 minutes past my scheduled time, my name is called (I really didn’t care to pay attention to the pronunciation---I knew it was me the moment my name was called.)
Firstly, the interview had nothing to do with me and an old lady in a lonely chamber. It was conducted in that very room across a glass pane. And the officer…oh my, my…whom did she remind me of? Shannon from “Lost”? At any rate, she was far from being a wizened old lady, if you know what I mean.
Officer (flipping through my documents): “Your sister…what does she do ?”
Me : “She’s studying in the XIth Std….sorry, XIIth Std.” (The initial jitters)
Officer : “And your father ?”
Me : “He’s a professor…at Jadavpur University here.”
Officer : “Full family ?” (This was what I heard)
Me :”Full what ?”
Officer :”Full funding ?”
Me :” Ohh..yes…I am receiving a teaching assistant at UCMP.” (which was not exactly the answer to her question)
Officer (looking up, with a smile on her face) :”Do you have strong ties to your country ?”
Hardly expected the question to come so direct. Couldn’t help a smile.
Me: “Sure.”
Officer: ”Ohhk. So, your documents say you cannot enter US before 30 days prior to the date your program begins, which in your case is 21st August. Which means, you cannot enter US prior to 23rd July. And when you go there, you carry along with you your I-20, acceptance letter, blah blah. Is this the address where you want your passport delivered ?”
Me :”Yes.”
Officer :”Thank you, and all the best.”
Me :”Thanks.”
And it was over. It had taken hardly a minute. In fact, I stood there, unsure, for a few seconds, not able to believe that the thing got over so fast.

A Fiery Story : Finally I look beyond Swapnasandhani

2008-05-13T07:54:00.000-07:00

*Warning : May contain spoilers*

“Aguner Barnamala” --- “The spectrum of fire.” Spectrum indeed!!! Fire that devastates a stable household, fire that leaves only the pure unscathed and thus itself becomes a test for purity, fire that blazes in the heart of a fanatic, fire that has been blown out in the heart of the living dead, fire that chases one from one green pasture to another and this would simply go on. Never before have I seen something being explored this entirely.
Sometime post the interval, the lady sitting beside me was grumbling:”They shouldn’t be performing plays this long.” She was so wrong. Here was a play that had to be this long. No half-baked patched-up story here. No bumpy ride. The entire plot was developed so smoothly. How there came to be this boy, with no consciousness about him, save for some severely warped psychological delirium that he had built for himself. How the psychiatrist unlocked each door into the boy’s mind and how he himself got trapped inside them till he could no longer keep himself the impassionate psychiatrist. How the boy came to immolate the father who was his sole religion. And how fire was the thread that seamlessly tied up everything together. To be honest, nothing gives me more pleasure than realising the full import behind the name given to a play and when I finally got the hang of this one, it was simply ecstasy.
And the presentation was no less powerful. I got to see how one can actually portray being burned without disgusting the audience with mindless arm-swinging. To live up to the demands of this tremendously powerful story was no mean ask, and “Drishyapot” actually lived up to the challenge. The plot which was just a series of exchanges between the psychiatrist and the various parties involved turned into a …well, a “burning” experience for the audience with the style in which it was depicted ---- with each of the storytellers swiftly tumbling into their own stories.
As for the performances, Load da had previously said that there was no average actor in this group, and he was damn right. Maybe, the lead lady seemed a bit jumpy at places, but otherwise the rest of the actors were mind-blowing.

Some quotes I just can’t forget:

“Hridoy-e agun jole bole shunechhi, kintu agun-er nijer ki hridoy ache ?”
(I have heard tales of fire burning inside a heart, but does fire itself have a heart ?)

“Er poreo ki chokhe chokh rekhe bola jai bhalobasha-r kotha.”
(Even after this, can we look into each other’s eyes and speak of love ?)

“Impotent ! Ha ! Ha !...Bole kina ami impotent !”
(Impotent ! Ha ! Ha !.....He says I am impotent !)

“Dhur, ishwar ki kokhono more naki ? “ --
“Ishwar-rai to more.”
(Bullshit, how can God die ? –
It is the Gods that die.)

“Ekta manusher shobcheye boro ki khoti korte pari bolo to amra ? (sic) Or aguntake kere neoa.”
(What do you think is the greatest wound we can inflict on a person ? (sic) Seizing away his fire from him.)

A shaky start....

2008-05-03T18:18:00.000-07:00

Ahem. This is...well, you see, this is my first attempt at blogging. So, naturally, there will be a few false steps, before I can get the hang of things. Without any intentions to be sickeningly modest, I feel I ought to apologise for swinging my arms for such length of time as it should take to ease my cramps. Well....ummm....as a way of clearing my throat, let me make it clear what drove me to start blogging. No deeper waters here...maybe it was simply some breathing space that I was at long last blessed with. B-R-E-A-T-H-I-N-G S-P-A-C-E !!!!!! AHHHHHHH !!!!!!
A blessing indeed. Like a gentle breeze gambolling all around me. Fondling me, tickling me and breathing life into my fantasies. And it was these fantasies that urged me to make this little "Pensieve", where they could create a niche of their own and hibernate without fear of being stamped out. And thus it is that this "Pensieve" comes into existence..... So much for this happy inauguration. The knot is snipped through, the canon fired into the air, the opening platitudes mouthed, ....on your mark, get set, go !!!!!!