Book Journey - Broken Open (Elizabeth Lesser)

This was first published at Writersmelon

Spirituality sounds like a big word, especially when you are twenty-three, and haven’t had any real crisis in your world so far. That was when I had first come across this book. The name on the cover read – Broken Open. And then there was a line below it, which read – "How Difficult Times Can Help US Grow."  I was yet to know what that may mean. And yet, I had turned over its pages.

GOOD (K)NIGHT and GOOD MORNING!

Those were the times of coils that came in hard green pungent sheltering smelling cakes, shaped in thin spiral mazes. They could hardly beat the beasts, for when it was evening they would come around in battalion forces. The blow of the conch shells - they came in triads from different neighborhood houses and just when the sun would turn orange from white. We would know that with the first sound of it, we must hurry to climb up the beds, sofa or the benches  closest to the walls, to grab the wooden windows by their edges and pull them shut. The more organic households would put coconut leftovers into an iron handi and burn them to keep them away, and then, when even that would fail we would gather to clap our hands into a mad mass mosquito killing spree. Not that we hated it, for it also meant a respite from handwriting practice.

পাড়ার মেয়ে

“পাড়ার মেয়ে” শব্দ জোড়াটা আজকাল প্রায় উঠেই গেছে বলা চলে। কোন বাড়ির মেয়ে, বড়জোর। অর্থাৎ কিনা, বাবা কাকা কেউ যদি পলিটিক্সে থাকেন বা অন্তত সিভিল সার্ভিসে, অথবা ডাক্তার উকিল কিছু একটা পারিবারিক বংশপরাক্রমে। একটু বড় হলে কোন স্কুলে দিলে গো মেয়েকে, বা কোন কলেজে চান্স পেলো, কোন সাব্জেক্ট? আবার, আর একটু বড় হলে মিসেস হেনা তেনা কিছু একটা, যাবতীয় লিঙ্গ সাম্যের মুখে চুনকালি মাখিয়ে। অফিসের ব্যাপারটা আবার আলাদা, ডিপার্টমেন্ট দিয়ে নামে চেনা যায়, ভিজিটিং কার্ডে একঝলকেই আন্দাজ করে নেওয়া যা কি বা তাঁর পড়াশোনা, কদ্দুর কি ক্ষমতা। বাচ্চার স্কুলে সেই বাচ্চার মা, ওই যে, ছোট করে চুল কাটা, বা একটু মোটার দিকে চেহারা। পরিচয় অনেক রকমেরই হয় বইকি। সব কিছু পেরিয়ে আবার এও জানা হয়ে যায় যে পরিচয় শব্দটাই একটা আগাগোড়া ভুল ধারণা, পুরো জীবনটাই আসলে নিজেকে খুঁজে ফেরার অলি গলি পাকস্থলী। তবু… 

তবু, এই বচ্ছরকার শীতকালের সময়টায় যে নিয়ম করে “ওমা, কবে এলি?“, হোক না মাত্র কটা দিনের জন্যই। অতীতের মায়া দিয়ে ঘেরা এই ব্যাক্তিচর্চা, এক নিশ্বাসে অনেকগুলো বছর অতিক্রম করে যায় চক্ষের নিমেষে। পাড়ার মেয়ে পরিচয়টা, আগের মতই এখনও, ডাকনামের উষ্ণতা নিয়ে ঘিরে থাকে আমার শীতকাল।

The Six Lessons - "Dear Zindagi" attempts it big!

This post was first published in Feministaa.

They say a film that is good is one that is honest. But no, not here. The beauty of Dear Zindagi is really in its pretense. For, it does a tight ropewalk between intellectual high tea of essential life lessons, and a soothing, upfront, breezy way of telling us an anyday story of an anyday girl. That is the only way to tell this story so that it can reach till us, so that it can do its work. So that it can make a difference, after all. Dear Zindagi is not an arty film, not at the least. And yet it is so pleasant and so ahead of its time that you feel almost grateful. Dear Zindagi is among the standing proofs of Indian cinema having come of age. It is a milestone, too, in a way.

Children Stories - fears and freedom!

This article was first published at Feministaa

How much can books make or break lives, I often wonder. What role do they play in shaping up who you are? Well if you ask me, I’d say quite a lot.

And yet, do we realize the power of printed words? Do we realize our restrictions with them, and our responsibilities? Do we realize what the bedtime stories cane do to our children, when we say them?

কে এই ভিকি রায়?

This post was first published in Rabibashoriyo, Anandabazar Patrika

২০০৮ সালে, গোটা বিশ্ব থেকে চার জন ফোটোগ্রাফারকে বাছা হয়েছিল, নিউ ইয়র্কে গিয়ে ওয়ার্ল্ড ট্রেড সেন্টারের পুনর্নির্মাণের ফোটো-ডকুমেন্টেশনের জন্য। নির্বাচিত চার জনের দুজন আমেরিকা থেকে, এক জন হংকংয়ের। আর চতুর্থ জন, ভারত থেকে। ভারত থেকে? কই, শুনিনি তো!

The Peshwa (by Ram Sivasankaran)

When history is killed in printed letters from education board prescribed textbooks, it easily translates into simple quantum of scores upon annual marksheets. Good kings and bad kings, inheritances and battles, dates and events, problems causes and solutions. Lucky few chapters find resonance with stories told at home, like those of the freedom fighters, or those which stay for matters of future wisdom, the Indus Valley Civilization or the Joan of arc. For a thorough bong with adequate communal history to learn from and talk about, our exposure to kingdoms stayed sadly restricted to the famous Mughal lineage for its sheer magnificence, and to young king Sirajudullah on account of humane sympathy. The Maratha kingdom and its precise politics, sadly, never made a cut at a personal level until last year it jazzed up the silver screen. A compelling revelation, that they too fell in love and suffered, fought battles also of internal nature, sacrificed. And before the effect entirely faded, suddenly came by a chance for a commissioned book review, The Peshwa by Ram Sivasankaran.

Off the focus, of the limelight!

This column was first published in Feministaa.

Taruna Ashwani was the next name in queue in the row of social (media) storms, and rightly so. For the uninitiated, THIS is what she did!!

Does India Know?

This column was first published in Our Front Cover.


In 2009, four people from across the globe were summoned to photo document the reconstruction of the world trade center in NYC. Two of them were from the United States of America, once from Hong Kong and the other, well, from India. Yes, from India.


The question is: Does India know?

Jodo Gyan!!

So, here is the background. Just a few weeks back, we chanced upon a lot of magicians inside a classroom. They had coem to show us how they are porposing to teach Mathematics to the next lot of production, they said. They said they are from JODO GYAN, which is THIS. 

And then, when asked, they asked us in reply to follow their instructions as they’d take us through the day. 

So we did!

Why it is not easy to take sides on the recent Supreme Court ruling!

(This article was first published in Feministaa)

It is tempting to have an opinion on everything, as it gets you facetime across the screen with several people from across the globe. They may like you or hate you, but ignore they cannot, for you have a valuable Facebook profile, a Twitter handle, and a whole series of I-know-better proclamations in place. Especially when you have an issue that is easy to stand by and take sides upon, it’s a cakewalk. You know what to say, and you know the predictable pat backs on the way all too well. I run a Facebook group around the theme of Equality, which really, in many frequent threads, stand to vouch more for the equation of gender equality than of other forms. So, it was easy for me to hit the share the scream and outcry of gross injustice and I’d know that I’d have unquestioned weight of support on my side. And yet, I found it not easy at all to reach my own conclusions on this subject.

It is on us, Parents. It is on us! - PART 2

This is in continuation to my previous article, which you can read HERE!

(This too was first published at Feministaa)

Talking of bodies and touches, as parents the other things we need to keep a watch on are these:

TONE!!

Something we need to keep in mind as we interact with our kids on these issues is that – we need to keep the conversation LIGHT AND EASY!

Bring My Flowers!

কোম্পানির নাম - Bring My Flowers। শুনতে কিরকম জানি একটা, প্রথমে ভেবেছিলাম। “বেয়ারা, চালাও ফোয়ারা!” গোছের, উদ্ধত। আহা, ফুলের দোকান যখন ফুলকুমারী নাম রাখলেই পারে!

বাড়ি বয়ে ফুল দিয়ে যায় ওরা, প্রতি সপ্তাহে। সই করে দি, বুঝিয়া-পাইলাম এই মর্মে।

তবে ফুলগুলো খুব একটা আমার বুঝিয়া পাইবার ধার ধারে না। সোজা চাবুকের মতন চেহারা, ইয়া লম্বা লম্বা ডাঁটি, গরবিনী রাজহংসীর মতন গ্রীবা। রোজ তলা থেকে দু আঙুল ডাঁটি কেটে দিতে হয়, আর জল বদলে দিতে হয় নিয়ম করে। ভুলে গেলেই অভিমান, মুখ কালো হয়ে যায় সবার। সপ্তাহে একদিন করে ডিটারজেন্ট দিয়ে ধুয়ে নিতে হবে ফুলদানি, ওরা নির্দেশ দিয়ে গেছে।  ফুলদানি? গোল কাঁচের ঘর ওদের, সান-রুফ সমেত। ফুলদানির খোলা আকাশ দিয়ে কৌতূহলী মুখ বাড়িয়ে থাকে ফুলগুলো, আমার দিকে চেয়ে থাকে অবাধ বিস্ময়ে। ওদের নতুন মালিক, নাকি? অত সহজ, ফুলের মালিক হওয়া? ফুলের মালিক কেউ হয় নাকি, কোনদিন? হলে হওয়া যায় বড়জোর মালি! তাই অপটু মালির মতন আমি ওদের জল দিয় গ্লাস ভরে, নতুন অতিথির মত করে। ওরা হাসে। হাসতে হাসতে ঢলে পড়ে এর ওর গায়ে। আমি ওদের বাড়তে দেখি, কমতে দেখি। প্রতিদিন।

In search of Her identity...

This column was first published in Feministaa.

The social media has come to become a platform of endless provocations. Like the one that floated up on my newsfeed as I was hurriedly dressing up for the coveted Ashtami’s Pushpanjali this Durga Puja. A friend has started a question on his timeline, crafted cleverly to pinch and squeeze a few points out of people who’d stumble by it. It is a patriarchal conspiracy to pose Durga as The Mother, while really She is the Warrior - he stated. It is a patriarchal conspiracy and a trap, entrapped in the veil of religious piousness.

আবার আসিস, মা!

পুজোর পাঁচটা দিন জুড়ে মাটির মূর্তিগুলো হয়ত নেহাতই উপলক্ষ্য মাত্র। হাসি ঠাট্টা, নাচ গান আনন্দ, মায়ে ফ্যাশন-শো আর র‍্যাম্প ওয়াক, সবাই মিলে খুব খানিকটা ভালো থেকে নেওয়া। চুটিয়ে!

#RhymeIndia by Times Of India!!

Okay, so be it!!


The OFFICIAL ANNOUNCEMENT is here, and I am so, so, so glad to have won this one! :)

:) :)

Book Review: Forgotten affair (Kanchana Banerjee)

“A Forgotten affair” has a storyline with a rather unpredictable kickstart.

The prologues and the opening chapter throws a flash forward into a couple of snapshot scenes, showing us how the regular life of the protagonist characters are over certain new year eve party scenes. Past the prologue and just a couple of chapters, the book now opens into a scene in a hospital ward. A lady named Sagarika. An accident, a bomb blast in a local train. In Mumbai. A fatality. A cut mark on her head. A return from the dead. A journey, in which she has left her memory behind. A loss, unaccounted. Yet, has her past left her too?

No! The power and the right. The answer. And, the questions!

This column has also been published at Readomania.


“Pink is not just a movie. It is a revolution,” team Pink has recently said. I wish. I wish to believe. I wish to believe in the strength it has just handed out to me. The strength of rights over the petty pity of sympathy. I am floored by the brave attempt by team pink. I have no words, but silent gratitude.

Think of it! Pink did not seek your sympathy of any kind. Exactly how it should be. We don't need your sympathy by being poor, by having carefully dressed up, by cracking a difficult admission test, by being the only daughter, by being the puny, fearing kind who doesn't dare give friendship a chance lest the friends prey on her. We don’t seek your sympathy by playing the game low key, by the rules of safety and pepper sprays. No.

And then, Pink didn’t play the cliché “us” and “them” too. It didn’t mark a gap between genders. It picked up the issue, instead. It pointed out the patriarch staleness in men and women alike, and the call of equality, in rights and respects, again in the both of them.

Pink started in each of us a thought process.

It is on us, Parents. It is on us! - PART 1

(First published in FEMINISTAA.)


That day, the morning unfolded with this piece of news:

It happens. We all knew that, didn't we? It happens all over, all the time - the records will confirm. But then, close home?

Book Review: Graffitti (Joanie Pariera)

A commissioned review:


Flipping the very first chapter of “Graffitti’ over to the second had promised one thing loud and clear: that, this was not going to be just another book I read.  The scene description was abstract and yet impeccable, and the set-up had set you up for a journey which was going to be wonderful, and at the same time, witty. On one there was a fatal accident and a lone survivor waiting to hit the psychiatrist’s chamber and on the very next, there a girl - dropped jaw - watching her ex in a lip-lock with his current ‘boyfriend’ to ‘show and tell’ how he has managed to come out of the closet. The stories indeed make for quite a ride.

Pink! To Suzette Jordan. To us. And to you, Auntie.

This column was also published in Youth Ki Awaaz, The Speaking Tree, My City for Kids.

A courtroom scene that stormed the internet down; a question of virginity and its safekeeping, and of matters and discussions best kept under wraps. Of police diaries denied, of warrants backed with power and politics. Of alibi and reasoning, and of the usual versus the unusual. Of morality versus law, and of morality of yours versus mine. Or, of whose?


But really, what happened on that fateful night?

Swap their toys!

This post was first published at FEMINISTAA

Hello, reader! Thank you for reaching till here, and for reading this. But before that, I hope you’ve had a good day so far?

For me, well if you ask me… No, let me tell you anyway! Remember, what happens when it is a Saturday? Birthdays!! Here’s a simple maths for you… I have a 5 year old daughter. Now the thing is, she has 27 friends and enemies in her class, and another dozen or two more in our society, condominium, family friends. And then, of course you know, that there are just 52 Saturdays in a year. So you see, over the last couple of years in my life, Saturdays have become synonymous to birthdays! And so has it been today. It started the exact same way… with a family visit to a Gift shop in the morning! 

Book Review: 03:02 by Mainak Dhar

(A commissioned review)

What would you do, if one fine time in the middle of the night, time stops still? What would you do if one day you're cut out on stock, of food, water, medicines. Electricity. What if at one moment, at one sudden moment, the life that you raced so far comes to a surprise halt? What would you do if a science fiction terror thriller suddenly becomes the world?

Of basic instincts and self-reflections!

This column has also been cross-published at YOUTH KI AWAAZ


“My pain may be the reason for somebody's laugh.
But my laugh must never be the reason for somebody's pain.”

Before I launch into why I am suddenly, dearly, desperately reminded of these simple yet immortal words of Mr. Chaplin with much more significance than I intended over the last seven days of my existence, let me begin with the backdrop first.

Vipassana - The Art of Introspective Calm

Even though I've been out of Silence for a while now, I'm still not quite as out of it as I always was when I didn't know it exists and how. My self-exile was my best gift, and I still do not know who it was from; I don't care to know either.

Native Immigrants (Movie Review)

Okay, time for a commissioned movie-review! :)

But before that, first, the movie – NATIVE IMMIGRANTS

Review:

What if you get up one fine morning at your home, dress up and arrive at work, and you’re told to “GO HOME NOW”? Right! As much as is said about roots and identities, this becomes the stark reality for some unfortunate souls that we’d prefer not to much think about from our personal safe cocooned space of shelters we call our home. Unless.

Why we owe Co-Education to our next?

This post was first posted in Feministaa.



Every morning we’re hard hit with headlines screeching gender crimes, and I won’t even go into statistical figures there. Every morning, we’re also served morning tea in bed by the mother, the bahu, or the dewrani. Point is, academicians in contextual gender fields have a point when they argue that the previous two sentences you just read are not really distinct, irrelevant and erratic – they actually form parts of the same spectrum. The spectrum that cries out to us right since we’re born, that we are different. Boys and girls, the “us” and the “them”!
Curious, right?

Father of the Nation!

This post has also been published at YouthKiAwaaz and The Speaking Tree.

Once upon a time, there was a man. 

Father of the Nation and his "Experiments with Truth" - A reflection!

This post has also been published at YouthKiAwaaz and The Speaking Tree.

Once upon a time, there was a man. 

Dissent (Deepak Kaul)

A commissioned review -

An anthology is a strange thing. An anthology is stranger, if it follows no rule. An anthology, probably, is strangest when it does not even tie down its stories to a certain genre.

ও মেয়ে, জলকে চল!

গর্ভিণী মেঘ হাওয়ায় ভাসে

আকাশপথের যান -

বাস্প চিরে বজ্র ডাকে,

তাও - অটুট অভিমান!

আকাশ জোড়া আলোর হদিশ,

নিরুদ্দেশে প্রাণ।

একূল ওকূল ছাপিয়ে পড়ে,

ঝাঁপিয়ে পড়ে বান!

সুখী গৃহকোণ!

A small step "Together"

It had all began with a rather morbid news, that a 4 year old was sexually assaulted. I was not too surprised that it happened, to be honest. I was shocked, rather, to imagine how many must be happening behind the curtain, unnoticed, unreported, unacknowledged just so that one piece among them could surface up to grab half a column on the daily news. The groups on social media were flooding with demands and disputes around school's intervention in matters of CCTV, female attendant, while I was cringing to think how the 4 year old never came back home to tell it to her mother, because she was either scared or didn't even know it was wrong...

I had put forward an outcry which was more at spur of moment than was purposeful. I had asked if we could arrange a workshop to tell kids and parents what they should know! But they gave me hope, and shoulders. The enthusiasm since last week was absolutely heartening. What was just a musing became an idea, and then a purpose. We formed a team, and we named ourselves "Together". We stole our kids crayon boxes and made posters while they were away at school. We painted the mailboxes and WhatsApp groups red... 

Dreams!

Here’s a thing about... “moral values” – if I may! Well, foremost, Moral values are not easy to define. They are indeed a matter of discretion. Moral values are not what the aunt next door imposes on you. Moral values are what you trust, where your intuition talks, what your conscience leads you to. They are about your very own ways of living life, your personal belief systems, and your self-imposed principles. Moral values can only be inspired, not preached. And talking of it, well then, can moral values also not be to hope, to imagine, to reach out?

Right, Dreams!

"Stories of Work, Life & Balance in Between" by Tomson Robert

Time again, for a commissioned review! This time, it is a simple, easy read of a book named as above, holding between its two covers a host of continuing short stories.

Let’s twist the knots this rakhi…

This article has been first posted at Feministaa.

Last time it was dry flowers and sea shells, and this time it is leftover pieces of ribbons, pista shells and round beads. The collections have been going steady over the past few days at our own little corner of the world. That time is here…

Of Birds and Bees

It was my mum’s idea! My daughter’s first birthday was, well, not exactly round the corner… there were whole three months left to it. And yet, our daily hone bills were soaring sky high with every passing day over the same discussion in a constant loop – as to, what they’d give her for a gift!

Bangladesh War!

Cross-published at Launchora...


White locks of hair pulled into a tiny bun, often covered with a pallu. A toothless smile. White saree. That is how Dida has always looked ever since I can remember. Dida - the common grandmother – in our small but complete world of the neighbourhood, where I was born and brought up at.

A car on the road!

This post has also been cross published at The Speaking Tree, World of Moms, YouthKiAwaaz and My City 4 Kids.

This is a news bite from New York Times from 20 years back. The time was April, the year, 1996. A few of the possessions of President John F Kennedy were up on auction. His arm chair and his coffee table, for example. One of the last items up on auction was his tape measure. And guess what price it commanded? It sold for a whopping 42,000 USD, not allowing for commission and procedural charges. Yes, 42000 USD, back in the year 1996.

A princess story

This poetry has been published in the anthology "She The Shakti" which can be purchased HERE!


Once upon a time

(They say)

It started,

It all started...

বিতানকে...

আজকে অনেক, অনেকদিন পরে হঠাৎ করেই তোকে স্বপ্নে দেখলাম - কেন, কে জানে! তোকে কি মিস করছিলাম? কি জানি, আলাদা করে বুঝতে পারিনি তো একবারও। তুই আছিস, থাকবি, এরকমই তো হওয়ার কথা… আলাদা করে কবে, কখন, কেন, এসব কিছু ভাবতে বসিনি তো কখনই! কিন্তু আজকে যেরকম আচমকা হানা দিলি পুরো স্বপ্নটা জুড়ে… কি প্ল্যান বলত, তোর?

“সৃষ্টিকর্তার অট্টহাসি!”

(১)

আমার বিয়ের সময় অনির্বাণের কয়েকজন বন্ধু বড়কাকাকে দেখে বেশ চমকে গিয়ে বলেছিলঃ “উরিব্বাস! ইনি কে জানিস? এ কে বাসু! ইউনিভার্সিটিতে সবাই এনাকে ভগবান বলে মানে।“ আমি অবাক হয়ে বলেছিলাম, “ধুর! ওটা তো বড়কাকা!” ১৮ই জুলাই ২০১৬ তে অর্থাৎ বড়কাকার কাজের দিন ঠিক সেই ব্যাপারটাই আবার হল। নানান ক্ষেত্র থেকে অতিথিরা এসেছেন যারা বড়কাকাকে শ্রদ্ধা করতেন, ভালবাসতেন, তাঁরা “স্যর” বলে উল্লেখ করে নানা কিছু স্মৃতিমন্থন করছেন, অতীতচারণা – ইউনিভার্সিটির কথা, ওনার পড়ানোর কথা… আর আমার মনে হচ্ছে - “ধুর! ওটা তো বড়কাকা!”

বড়কাকাকে নিয়ে লিখতে হবে। কিন্তু যাই লিখবো, মনে হবে যেটা বলতে চাই সেটা বলা হলনা। বড়কাকাকে ডেস্ক্রাইব করার চেষ্টা করাটাও বোধ হয় – সে যতই পাতার পর পাতা ভর্তি করে লিখি না কেন – শেষে ওই অন্ধের হাতি দেখাতেই পরিণত হবে। আসল কথাটা হল,  বড়কাকা মানুষটার ব্যাপ্তি আর গভীরতা দুটোই এতটাই বেশি, যে একটা সামান্য লেখায় ওনার স্মৃতিকে ধরতে যাওয়ার চেষ্টা করাটাই বাতুলতা, অথবা হয়ত একপ্রকার ইঞ্জাস্টিস করা। বড়কাকা একটা প্রিজমের মতন – এক একদিক থেকে আলো ফেললে এক একরকমের রামধনু-রং বিচ্ছুরিত হয়, আর তার প্রত্যেকটাই আপন দ্যূতিতে উজ্জ্বল!

তবু, বিন্দু বিন্দু দিয়ে সিন্ধু ধারণ করার একটা অক্ষম প্রয়াস…

A historical event? Hypatia.

“Woman suspected of witch-powers, gang raped and killed by mob” – not a very uncommon headline, isn’t it? In fact it is not too shocking either, even in this twenty first century. No, it does not make for any big breaking news, such reports. They don’t even feature on the front page, which are preserved for politicians. This kind of news barely find a place in a small corner of page 6 or 7 of our daily papers, and we get over them by the time we have finished our cup of morning tea, concentrating on the sports page, or better still, the page 3 celebrities.

However, today we are going to listen to a story. A story of a witch. A story from history. A story of suppression. And a story of a revolution. As I just said, a story of a witch. A witch, named Hypatia.

A story of a dream, a dream of a story!

What are the qualities of a good story? I know some people would find it easy to answer. They may say that like a speech, a story should have an introduction, a body and a conclusion. Some may say, well, not really. A story should have a backdrop, a climax and a resolution. And some may say, a story must have its characters! Well if you ask me, I do not find it easy to define what a story should be. Well, a story may never have a beginning or an end, a problem or a solution. So, without breaking heads over what it should be, let us just sit back and listen to it. If we like it, well, let’s call it a story.

Folktales

(For all of you who either know me or had listened to my CC2 speech which was on the problems of gender discrimination, you’d know that I’m not the least of an advocate of the regular Disney fairytale in which there will be a typical damsel in distress princess who’ll be in danger, and there will be a prince charming on horseback who’ll save and protect, and then there will be a happily ever after. No, my dear friend, I’m sure you’d agree that girls are meant to be much stronger than that, and much wiser! Today, I am going to, however, tell you a Disney fairytale.)