A lost battle ...

Forever forlorn;

Stepping in a territory

That was never mine.

Trespassing into a domain

That seems an illusion.

Life has given me chances,

Time and again.

And i overdid,

Blurred the boundary,

And crumbled

The basic fibre of the connection!

While wanted to deepen the knot,

Only thrust myself into oblivion!

Ghore ferar pothe ...

The Sea ... tranquility and a discovery

Dynamics change drastically in a relationship. What was yesterday something like one unfathomably deep friendship, today stands as a mere shadow of that past! The question is not who is to blame! Of course its the time which unveils one by one the innate manoevours  of the human psyche and that leads to the (un)glorious present. One tiny channel may sometime shoot itself up and that entails the trouble. Its not that i no longer enjoy the company. Not that i dislike them, i rather love them still. The problems are those tiny ugly patches where i am either a misfit or isolated. A joke sometimes fails to establish itself as so. Sometimes overuse deems that as truth and all involved start behaving accordingly. If it is always about me being in the unwanted spot of some friendship it definitely hurts. I was and still AM a very integral part of the group endeavours, just that i am no longer a part of the process. I am needed still to live up to the notion of friendship. I am no longer necessary to live through it. I am the necessary OTHER that defines the mainstream, that enables the upper skin to glow as united entity. But underneath we all feel the rift, dont we?? The joke has done us apart and it seems too huge to be bridged!

I hardly felt in place in the trip. I don't know why or what but something just hold me back the entire time and i hardly enjoyed myself. I could never participate!

The Return of the Non-Native

Life changes so fast … last January was all about excitement, anticipation, anxiety … an unseen future, an unknown country … the dawn of the new year broke with a new hope, a new vigour albeit stained with the little pain of leaving home. But the unforeseen prospect, the enchantment of a dream like realm named Singapore enveloped the mind … then came the “going away” time and I left my home, city, country to embrace the new and to be true Singapore overwhelmed me with love and acceptance.

Then suddenly came the returning home time in June and for the first time I understood how I missed my city and cared for it in the midst of thousands of complaints against the traffic, pollution etc etc. I ‘returned’ to Kolkata for a month long vacation, “the return of the native” … I enjoyed … then ‘returned back’ to Singapore …till the December came with the thrill of Indian winter … It was ‘Going” home time!

Today after shivering through my joyous days in Kolkata winter … I am ‘returning’ back to Singapore … and then it struck me…

Now I no longer “return home” … I “go there” to “return back” to Singapore …or do I return to both?

Pujor Rochona

Maa

Maa isnt keeping well. What can be a bigger nightmare to a son? sitting seas apart, I am only left with a bewildered mind and a paranoia to believe that all will be fine. But never it calms me down! Its never possible. I wanted to grow up to see my maa happy. I wanted to grow up to fre my maa of the tensions she had endured so long. I wanted a good job so that she can someday boast of her son! I wanted to show to the world that my maa can only give the best moral to her son. She did, She gave, undoubtedly. But what have i achieved? Maa, my maa is not well, Maa is NOT WELL god damn it. And I the supposedly ever so caring , dutiful son can just do nothing other than worrying and making my mind the consolation that all will be all right!
I mean, Why me? Why alwas me? and why my mom? I want to go to her, touch her and suck her pain, want to make her feel comfortable, but the price that I decided to pay ironically to make her happiest maa in the world seems too heavy. I cant maa, I cant go, I cant heal, I cant share, I can do anything...and I have no face left to say sorry! Maa please forgive me...
I am so lost! Maa get well soon... plz ma, everything is getting clumsy and all the price, all endeavour and all that I loved to believe ... they become baseless unless you are well and smiling. cant even imagine the dreaded scene of you suffering maa, get well soon, for my sake, for our sake! Love you maa, miss you, love u love u love u ...u r the best ma, and you willbe alright, naah??

A price ... I pay, I miss

Why is it that you have to pay a price for what ever you want to do? Why is it the price seems always dearer? Why is it that after even paying the price we cant but miss and more more miss the price when it sould have been ideal to value whatever we have infront, right there, looking at us? probably for a bit acknowledgement?
yeah ... Singapore accepted us with open arms, unfurled all its beauty and warmth to make us feel at home... yet Home becomes that ever enchanting entity that props up in the mind and ever taunts the make belief homely abode that I try to create in this far of shore.
In a silent afternoon, lazing on the small bed that symbolize my world, my space ... battling the harsh fever and the sever tiredness ... I long for the touch of those tenderness that spells Maa, the cloak of that assurance that smells baba and those nimble fingers trying to to confort me thats my dear dear cutie sis! Miss my home, and more so when I really feel alone, dodging the mammoth expectation while paying a price for expecting!

Return of the Native and those bygone days

Never knew returning back is so exciting, never realized home to be a place that enchants the soul more in its absence than presence, never loved home more … standing on the threshold of going back to Kolkata perplexes my mind … time flew in its own course, captivating my mind with all its twists and turns, unfolding and covering up … and the day when I left home seems just that day … while actually 3 months have passed. Singapore welcomed me open armed, the country has a warmth, a charm that enthralled me these 3 months and actually kept me oblivious of HOME, well almost … but when today I think of going back to Kolkata, suddenly the complications starts fiddling my mind.
Home, Kolkata, maa, baba … too lucrative … just cannot wait to be there, to be with them, once more. Quite surprising! When in school, or college days, I used to push the coming back time as much as I could, just to be with friends a bit more, have fun, enjoy life … home was restrictions incarnated. How could I know that one day will come when retuning home will be the most sought after day in life, count the days when I will be back…touch maa, quarrel with her, play mischiefs with baba … and literally long for their scolding—the price for growing up!
But, even then, when I return, these 3 months also flash back, when an unusual emotional blanket cloaks me and I am reminded of a certain day when bereft of the near and dear ones I discovered new friends, shared a slice of my life with them. Unknowingly the people here, the Kopitiam, Boon Lay, Jurong Point, my colleagues, my room mates have made it to the inner core of my social circle … and suddenly I start to miss them! Its definitely interesting, what I have near me ceases to show itself up until I come at a situation when I cannot have them for long, I lose them … 3 months of work pressure and sneaking out of that to have a fresh lease of life … a time of new bonding, a time when we literally took life in our own terms … week ends film shows at the laptops with friends, awake till 3am in the morning, remaining oblivious of the time…then having breakfast in the afternoon … laze the day around, mindless shopping at Jurong Point till the point of bankruptcy, god like satisfaction after being able to buy some thing for ma baba, discovering sales at Singapore malls, zoo-night safari-bird park … new country, new places and a reckless spirit to taste life to its fullest and actually doing that with aplomb. Suddenly that ends, its over, after the vacation we come back true, but may be scattered all over Singapore … to another unknown, unforeseen future … will miss this time … it saddens…but at the same time its wonderful to think I am going home…this is an awesome feeling, the feeling of not being able to decide what and how to feel…Kolkata, Home –I missed them so much, craved to be there and now the time has come, the time for the return of the native … love both, treasure both … only that one comes at the cost of another … never mind … happy with any arrangement :-)

Missing Maa, Baba and Home

This is something that's self imposed. This is something I accepted knowing all the consequences. That I will miss them, that I will miss my home, my city and all that made me, my life and shped my time in Kolkata. yet then decided to be here, to be in Singapore and try to shape my life a better way!!
But 5 days down the line and I can not miss maa more, baba too. I miss her tender touch, her scoldings, the mornings that was made by her tea, her breakfast, baba, newspapers...the afternoons of her care, her teases, the evening of going out with her, baba's returning from office and we 3 together in our small lil world. I made that even more nuclear. Miss my maa....the warmth , her smell, her presence, her everything....I just miss the sense of being protected, the sense of being always there with some one to come back to....whom do I come back to here?...whom do i share my stories?...whom do I fight with?...who will scold me at my mistakes only to shroud me in the ever warm arms ... Maa...Baba ....
forgive me ...

Arekti Premer Golpo ... Just Another Love Story & the Mature Exploration of the Shunned Domain.

The "other" is always intriguing. The “other” by virtue of their non-conformity are always on the wrong side. It never needs to be anti-establishment with a full galore, but just a little deviation tags someone “other”, the demarcation faces the fundamental question of righteousness though! And our society, by the primal urge to multiply, has therefore accepted the heterosexual world to be the supreme, the one and the only one, the “straight”. Societies are essentially phallo-centric, so one phallus’ submission to another probably endangers the epitome position of males in this society, thought to be dominated by them!

But it is not only Gay … the ‘subaltern-no-person’ existence is not even doubly marginalized, they are totally obliterated. The gays are marginalized, the are the women (may be) but this remaining oblivious towards the third sex altogether negates them from the societal periphery. Interestingly enough this concept is not new to Indian culture, cross-dressing had been a part of it from its inception, as obvious in the description of Vishnu as Mohini or Arjun as Vrihannala. But modern society remained always hushed up. It needed a jerk from the root to let the society face itself in a mirror with all its gleams and scars embedded on its face. Now it is up to the society to decide whether it will accept itself as it is or put the veil again to conform to an apparent ‘normalcy’. Kaushik Ganguly’s Arekti Premer Golpo (Just Another Love Story) hits the punch … frames after frames, scenes after scenes , dialogue after dialogues …it explores 3^rd sex, bisexuality, vulnerability , hypocrisy and pathetic plight inflicted … lives are ruined but all are busy keeping up to that ‘expected normalcy’.

Arekti Premer Golpo is a path breaking movie in many ways. Seldom is the issue of androgyny used in films, more particularly Indian movies. The issue of man to man love has been there in many films, but such serious sensitive portrayal is remote. Onir’s My Brother Nikhil dealt with it, true, but the vulnerability of those involved in it and the cruel intrusion of the society was not portrayed there.

The most interesting part of the film was undoubtedly the plot and the subplot played by the same people. The story of Chapal Kumar Bhaduri , the yester year theatre legend, who enthralled audience by his feminine roles and who happens to be the first self-proclaimed gay actor of Bengali stage, is just a trope. Kaushik deftly uses his story to hinge upon his own story of androgynous people in the society, whose existence in almost wiped out for some obscure reason. The story of Chapal Rani is the sub-plot which universalizes the main plot where the Delhi based Roop makes a documentary on the legend. Roop’s boyfriend is Basu ( played by Indronil) , a bi-sexual man and his wife is played by Churni ( character’s name Rani). The story unfurls through the intricate psychological proceedings in the characters.

Rituparno stands out as usual … what an actor! He plays the role with aplomb. Both his young Chapal and Roop are piteously vulnerable at the hands of the society. They are used, abused, misused before being thrown away. They exist in the ‘abyss of nothingness’ and even being great exponents in their fields they ever remain the butt of all ridicule.

Indronil stuns as the helpless bisexual man, torn between love and social restrictions. He fails out in his balancing acts and seek recluse in a woman, albeit betraying himself. The last scene will remain one of his best ever acting … so helpless, devastated … he had loved Roop genuinely but could not gather himself to discard the society, his wife and the unborn baby. He acts under absolute compulsion and obligation … his desperate clinging on to Roop is heart wrenching.

The wife seemed to be as helpless as scheming. If she had to accept Roop or Chapal in her husbands life, that I felt was not out of her liberation. Rather in Chapal’s case she accepted under compulsions as she was bed-ridden and she had children. In case of Basu she waited for the baby to come as she knew that she could score over Roop in that point only. She didn’t have an answer when confronted with the question ‘what would have been her reaction had Roop been a woman?’

Jisshu plays a silent admirer in both the plots…almost a foil to Indronil.

The film is complicated … raising questions after questions …who gains from shunning these people? Rather people could have gained if they were let to live the life they wanted to. The film is an absolute mature deal with the issue. Even if a wee bit of the cine-goers change their outlook towards these people … the film will be a grand success … Bengali filmdom with this movie has finally attained adulthood. Its not bold enough to portray nudity only … even without that this film stands out in its time … a film that will curve out a niche for itself … not for its content only, but for the handling of the same too.

A Long Chapter Lost ...

Never did I think that this would end ... Never did I think that it will end so ....no acrimony, no animosity, no misunderstanding yet we could not stay put ...we could not stay together .... I feel like howling but tears are betraying...I feel so restless....why these phases come? If this was to happen then why at all those years of pure joy had to exist....why ...god..I'm dying...I don't know even what to say...

MEMOIRS -- 2 ( Teachers' Day at Nava Nalanda )

When we were toddlers we were often asked to write a paragraph on Teachers day and whatever hackneyed points we jostled up in the exercise books, one point we always added at the end ' our elders come to teach us'. Teachers' days remained the most sought after for both the seniors and the juniors ... While the former waited eagerly for their turn to the other side of the desk, for us the juniors it was a break from the monotonous class works and scoldings ... at least for that day we could have 'teachers' of almost our age, li'l bit older and most importantly they were uniformed like us. Another thing attached us to this day dearly...as we grew up we counted "when will the time be when we will also go as teachers?"
I dreamt of the day when I would be able going to the juniors and gathering gifts and acting as a teacher and the school teachers would treat me at per ... a dream lucrative enough to let me through the first 11 years of the total 13 years that I spent in Nava Nalanda...

As I pour over the long lost pages of the memoirs, events collage in my mind ... so many of them ...so colourful, so exciting ...I miss them ...
When I was in class II, then some dadas-didis came in our class and gave us some maths to do....we all grunted, groaned ...but they were teachers after all ... so we never dared to speak. We did as they said ...they checked our copies .... then they gave us toffees ... the day passed on and I started sketching out how I would do when I take to that side of the desk ....
A I reflect ... even we had so much respect for our elders and they had so much love and care ... They were more eager to impart the value of the institution and all that Nava Nalanda stood for ... they took care of us ... they had fun with us but that never crossed the boundary .... they knew it and we were also bound by some unseen decorum and every year that was a success ... so as i thank my teachers for whatever I am today ... that thank my elders too ...
Even as I reflect ... I had taught at a school briefly ... can time change so fast? ... professionalism is good but if that creeps into the relation of the teacher and the students then it mars all the basic values of one of the most sacred relationship in the world ... I have noticed this change quite painfully ... its not even a generation  ... but the change seemed mammoth ... they never bothered ... only give and take .. give us notes, I pay you fees ... and the elders and juniors are busy fighting out for sheer dominance ...

As I was remembering .... in the natural course, I was promoted to class IX and then the teachers' day came ... and I was made to lead the team who would teach at class VIII sections. Groups were formed ....
I remember my first gift as a teacher ... A pen ... then a card with "TO MY YOUNG TEACHER" written on it ... In-charge ma'm came and inspired us ... gave us a vision what teachers should be, what is expected ... I had my first brush with teaching ... little did I know that I'll be taking up the same to be my profession ....

My teachers gave me a lot ... an identity, a dream, ... and all that makes me and all that defines my world .... school-college-university ... I have been lucky enough to come across a cross section of such eminent personalities who taught me, enriched me with their lectures ... subject- class room studies or beyond it .... I can never Miss this opportunity to thank them once more ... I know ... Its nothing if I consider my indebtedness to them .... Thank u teachers .... Happy Teachers' Day

Memoirs—1

I got an sms just yesterday – "memories play a strange role…it makes you laugh when you remember the time when you cried and makes you cry when you remember the time when you laughed …may be…some become so obscure that they even fail to stir up any emotions in me. Even some have died down the deepest pit of forgetfulness that they will never come up I guess…

 

Sometimes, when in an idle moment, I just spend some void time, all to myself, some moments from the obscure past sparks back and carries my train of thought away …

 

College—University—school—those days … Tapasya lost her mother recently …memories were flooding back …

 

It was 2005 and we were in the 2^nd year of our college and were armed with the responsibility to organize the "fresher's welcome" for the new first year of the English Department. Amateurish expertise that we had, we were reluctant to have a public display of our foray into the cultural arena during the rehearsals. Class room wasn't the safe idea given the unalarmed intrusions. Canteen and the roof top were discarded for the obvious reason. While the bunch of young adults was engrossed in the worrisome think session as to where to rehearse, the tiny, pretty girl hopped in with the brilliant idea of her house. First time I took notice… the tiny cute girl … Tapasya … Tapi for us … and we all stationed ourselves at her place. There we met her … or favorite Kakima…with her ever smiling face and often creative inputs. She became our supreme advisor … song selection, dialogue preparation, voice training …this and that … she was so much there even in her absence in the final programme …we never noticed…never did we mention her all through …

 

College passed by, we got busy. Some for a reason … some like me, just to show we are busy … She is no more … at this hour I suddenly remember her and this guilt chokes me …

Shame! Shame!

BHORAAI

ভোরাই

সূর্য শুভ বন্দ্যোপাধ্যায়

পূবদিক রাঙ্গা হয়ে এল—

হাওয়ায় মিশে পাখীর কলতান।

ছেঁড়া ছেঁড়া মেঘে ভেসে বেড়ায়

আমাদের ভরসারা...

কাল রাতে বড় রক্ত ঝড়েছে।

বাতাস ভারী ছিল

বারুদের বাষ্পে...

নতুন সকালে

আজানের সুর আর শঙ্খধ্বনীতে

কেমন অচেনা কাঙ্খিত শান্তি আজ।

গাজায় বাজেনি রণদুন্দুভি,

পাহাড়ের বিদ্রোহে কাঁপেনি সমতল,

গর্জে ওঠেনি বনাঞ্চল,

কাঁটা তারের দু'পাশেই

আলস্য ভাঙ্গা নতুন দিন।

স্বপ্ননীল মায়াময় সুর...

তুমি চাওনি এমন ভোর?

মিঠে রোদ গায়ে মেখে

এসো না, এক সাথে পথ হাঁটি—

ছায়া-প্রাচীর মুছে দিয়ে

তোমার আমার প্রভাতফেরি...

MUKHO MUKHI -- Bengali short story

                   মুখোমুখি

                          ------সূর্যশুভ বন্দ্যোপাধ্যায়

 

   দো'তলার বারান্দায় আরাম কেদারায় একা বসেছিল। সধ্যা অনেকক্ষণ উত্তীর্ণ হয়ে গেছে। রাত্রি শাসনের জন্যে চাঁদও মধ্যমণি হয়ে বসেছে অনেকক্ষণ। ঝোড়ো হাওয়া বইছে... তা প্রায় আজ সারাদিন। প্রায় অন্ধকার—বারান্দার বাতিটা আর জ্বালাতে ইচ্ছে হল না আজ, জ্বালাইও না এই সময়। বারান্দার এককোণায় ঝুম মেরে বসে থাকা আকৃতিটা বোঝা যায় মাত্র। চুপচাপ পাশটাতে গিয়ে বসলাম। যেমন বসে এসেছি এতকাল... সত্যকে বুড়ো আঙ্গুল দেখিয়ে...বাস্তব কে এক ফুঁ দিয়ে উড়িয়ে...রোজ এখানে এসে বসি আর আমার পাশে বসে ঝুম মারা একটা ছায়া...

আমি বললাম—

"আজ একটা কথাও বলব না"

আমার মাথায় হাত রাখল সস্নেহে—"রাগ করেছিস?"

"বয়ে গেছে"

"তা বেশ...তা হ্যাঁ রে, দু'গাল বেয়ে তবে কী পড়ছে?..."

"তোমার জানার কী দরকার? কেন আস রোজ রোজ?"

"তুই কেন এসে বসিস রোজ?"

"জানি না..."

"ঠিক?"

"বসি বেশ করি...তোমার কি? আমার ইচ্ছে আমি বসি..."

"আমারও তো তেমন ইচ্ছে...তোকে দেখতে ইচ্ছে করা না?"

"একটাও বাজে কথা বলবে না...মিথ্যেবাদী...শুধু বুজরুকী..." গলা বুজে আসে আমার। কথা গুলো দলা পাকিয়ে যায়...হঠাত আগল ভেঙ্গে বেরিয়ে আসতে চায় হুড়মুড় করে কান্নার শব্দে... "কেন? কেন? কী আনন্দ পাও রোজ?"

 

হাঁপ ধরে যায়। এ সময়টা আমার কাছে বড্ড প্রিয়। দুঃখ যেমন সবার কাছে সবথেকে মূল্যবান—বিচ্ছেদ-বেদনা-হতাশা...এসব না থাকলে কী রোজ রোজ এই সময়টা আসত? বড্ড যন্ত্রণা হয় বটে...তবুও চাতকের মত চেয়ে থাকি এই সময় খণ্ডটার জন্য। দিনের শেষে এই এক ফালি বারান্দাই চাঁদ এসে বসে। আর ওই আলোর পথে ধরে ও এসে বসে ওই আরাম-কেদারাটায়। যেমন আগে এসে বসত...রোজ...আমার সাথে দু'চার কথা বলে আর খালি কাঁদায় আর তারপরে চলে যায়। আমিও ফিরে আসি ...তবু কিসের যে এক আমোঘ টান।

 

হাত দিয়ে চোখ মুখ ঢেকে বসেছিলাম। আলতো ভাবে আমার মাথায় আবার হাতটা রাখল—

"এ বাবা...বড় হচ্ছিস না? এখনও কেউ কাঁদে? আয় আমার কাছে আয়।"

চাঁদের আলোয় ওই ঝুম মারা আকৃতির মধ্যে একটা স্মিত হাস্য ফুটে ওঠে।

"হাসছ? লজ্জা করে না তোমার?" কর্কশ হতে চেষ্টা করি।

"ওই দেখ...এদিকে আয়...ওই দেখ কাঁঠাল গাছটায় একটা ঘুড়ি আটকে গেছে"

"চুপ কর বলছি"

"সেবার মনে আছে? রণির সাথে বাজি লড়েছিলাম?"

"কী চাও তুমি?..." বাঁধ যেন শিথিল হয়ে আসে ক্রমশ।

"ভোকাট্টা...তেতলায় ছাতে যাবি ঘুড়ি ওড়াতে?"

"আমি আর পারছি না"

"চিলেকোঠায় লাটাইটা এখনও আছে? না থাকলে কিনতে হবে...রত্নার দোকানে মাঞ্জা পাওয়া যায় না?...এখন কত দাম রে?"

"শেষ বারের মত বলছি...তুমি চুপ কর"

"রণিকে ভোকাট্টা করবই এবার...যাবি?...কীরে? চুপ করে আছিস কেন? তোর হয়েছেটা কী? ঘুড়ি ওড়াসনা আর?"

"তুমি জান না?" আর জল না...যেন এবার আগুন জ্বলছে আমার মাথায়...

ও কেবল হাসছে... "কী চাও?" হাসি "হাসছ কেন?"...হাসি...খুব জোড়ে ঝাঁকাতে লাগলাম... "বল, আজ বলতেই হবে...কী চাও বল..." কেমন যেন বিবশ হয়ে যাচ্ছে আমার চারিপাশ—আমার চিতকার যেন গুটিয়ে যাচ্ছে একটা বর্মের মধ্যে আর সেই চিতকার কে ছিন্নভিন্ন করে চারিদিক কাঁপিয়ে সেই অট্টহাস্য... "চুউউউউপ"...গোটা বহ্মাণ্ড যেন পলকে নিথর।

 

আমি জোড়ে জোড়ে নিঃশ্বাস নিচ্ছি...দুর্বল লাগছে খুব...শরীরে আর তাকত নেই...ইচ্ছে হচ্ছে সব তছনছ করে দিতে। কিন্তু চারিদিকে তো কিছুই নেই, আমি যেন মহাশূন্যে ভাসছি। কোথায় বারান্দা, চাঁদ...ওই ঝুম মারা আকৃতি... "কী চাও? আমাকে বাঁচাও...আমি মা'র কাছে যাব..." সে শব্দ যেন কেউ শুনতে পাচ্ছে না।

 

"তোর সবুজ জামাটা বেশ"

আমার উত্তর দেওয়ার শক্তি নেই...ভ্যাবলার মত তাকিয়ে রইলাম।

"কটা হল এবার পূজোয়? শেষবার মনে আছে?"

"মনে করতে চাই না...তুমি এবার যাও"

"তাড়িয়ে দিচ্ছিস?"

"আমাকে কষ্ট দাও কেন?

"অভিমান হয়েছে?"

"আমাকে কাঁদিয়ে কী আনন্দ পাও?"

"আমার প্রিয় রঙ কী ছিল বলত?"

"বলব না"

"শেষবার সবুজ জামা তোকে আর তোর প্রিয় নীল আমাকে দিয়েছিল দিদুন, মনে আছে?"

"আমি আজ আর পারছিনা"

"দিদুন কেমন আছে রে?"

"দয়া করে যাও..."

"কতদিন দেখিনি রে...মা-বাবা?"

"তুমি যাও বলছি...যাও...আমাকে আর কাঁদাবে না...খবরদার বলছি..."

"তোর সামনে পরীক্ষা না? এদিকে তো কাল বললি কোন বন্ধুর সাথে আবার ঝামেলা বাঁধিয়েছিস..."

"বেশ করেছি...তোমাকে যেতে বলেছি তুমি যাও"

"প্রিপারেশন কেমন? মনে আছে তোর পড়া ধরতাম, মা সামনে না থাকলে?"

"তার মানে তুমি এখন যাবে না?...তাহলে একটা কথা স্পষ্টই শোন...আজ অব্দি যত খারাপ কিছু হয়েছে তার কারন জেনেছি...খারাপ রেজাল্ট, বিচ্ছেদ, ঝগরা—সব কিছুর একটা কারণ ছিল, বুঝেছি কেন...শুধু বুঝলাম না তোমারটাই, আজও...কষ্ট দাও বলে আর যন্ত্রণা পাইনা বিশ্বাস কর...শুধু জানিনা কেন দাও...রোজ আসবেই যদি তবে চলে গেলে কেন? মনে করবেই যদি তবে পাশে থাকা বন্ধ করে দিলে কেন? কেবল স্মৃতি নিয়েই থাকব? কেন চলে গিয়েও মুক্তি দিলে না?..."

"ভাই...তোকে ছেড়ে আমিই কী ভালো আছি?"

"তাই আমাকেও খারাপ রাখতে প্রতিদিন আসবে?" কান্না আর ক্রোধ মিখে যাচ্ছে প্রতিমুহুর্তে।

"না রে...তোকে কত ভালোবাসি তা কী বুঝিস?...তোকে না দেখে..."

"বাজে বকবে না...যেতে কে বলেছিল? আর এখন অকারণে আমাদের, আমাকে রোজ রোজ কষ্ট দিতে আস..."

"তোকে দেখতে, তোর সাথে কথা বলতে আমার আবার কারণ লাগবে নাকি রে?...হা হা এমনি আসি না রে..."

" কী ভাব তুমি? পারবে না, আর একদম পারবেনা...আমি ছোট ভাই বলে তোমার সব কিছু সহ্য করব নাকী?...রোজ আসবে আর রোজ চলে যাবে...ভাব রোজ রোজ চলে যাওয়ায় রোজ রোজ কষ্ট পাই?...তাহলে ভুল ভাব... কী ভেবেছ...মৃত্যুদিনের চেয়েও বেশী কষ্ট দিতে পারবে? বেশী কাঁদাতে পারবে? মনে করিয়ে দুঃখ দেবে? জেনে রেখ দুঃখ কে আর ভয় পাই না...যে দুঃখ তুমি চলে গিয়ে দিয়েছ তার কাছে এসব শিশু...একবার জিতেছ দাদা, ছোট ছিলাম জাপটে ধরে রাখতে পারিনি...ফাঁকি সেদিন দিয়েছ, আর পারবে না...রোজ আসবে তো? এসো, রোজ কথা বলব...কিন্তু আর কাঁদব না"...বলেই চলেছি প্রলাপের মত...হাজার হাজার জমে থাকা কথা যেন নিমেষে ধাক্কা মেরে বেরিয়ে আসতে চাইছে...

 

চাঁদের আলো বেশ গাঢ় এইবার...ঝুম মারা আকৃতিটা উঠে দাঁড়ায়...মাথায় আবার আলতো করে হাত রাখে... "কাল আবার আসব...আজ কারণটা বুঝলি তো?"

 

বুঝেছি...বুঝেও আজ আটকাতে পারলাম কই?...

Are teachers still role models to their students?

   

"The true teacher is he who can immediately come down to the level of the students, transfer his soul to the student's soul and see through and understand though his mind. Such a teacher can really teach and none else"

                                                         --------- Swami Vivekananda

 

Actually this is the place where the role of a teacher is important. This coming down to the level of the young learners and thereby trying to chalk out their problem and at the same time imparting in them the values and the morals is what the primary job a good teacher and this is here where lies the scope of positioning himself/herself as the role model or super hero. Though it is also to be mentioned that this may not be a deliberate attempt…the young minds opening up and with each passing day gaining experience to judge the world around…as the teacher is his/her all-through companion in this process he naturally become the role model. The students start imitating, judging and follow the teacher. The source of knowledge had always been regarded as the superior and following the general tendency it is therefore natural that the young pupils start following their teachers.

 

Teaching had been regarded as a profession with meager monetary reward but a great deal nobility for long, as viewed by Henry Von Dyke too. Time and again teaching has been associated with the concept of economically struggling people with a golden heart and an insatiable zeal for knowing and letting know. "He is poor but honest" had been the accepted construction. With the change of time the profession has changed its shape also. No longer is it treated as one where people are paid lowest. So with the changed attitude questions have raised regarding whether teacher still continue to be the role models. To be precise I find no reason as to why this question should at all arise? Teachers are human beings and in to survive monetary superiority is necessity and following that teachers had to come out of that shabby sordid construction. But that has never made the teachers less dependable or never lessened the nobility attached to the profession by any degree.

 

Once wile I was studying at the University, one of my teachers used to say "a few years from now you people will be on this side of the table and there you will understand the role of a teacher. Each and every moment you will realize the indelible mark that the teacher has left on your mind. Every topic you come across, you will start thinking how he/she would have taught this one in the class and thereby you will tend to follow the same course." This is the biggest role that a teacher plays in the life of the student—enabling him to take a decision at the moment of need. It happens to be a custom with all of us to think about other, to position ourselves in the place of our acquaintances to weigh the various options that may prop up once we are struck somewhere. For the young minds the immediate person is the teacher. From my practical experience also I can infer, when ever I get into any hurdle while teaching I recollect my school days and look out how my teacher would have dealt with the similar situation if one such had arose. It makes my task easy.

 

Another important aspect that I think should be mentioned in this context of decision making is the capability to judge on the basis of the moral standards. It is to be mentioned that a teacher is a person with whom the young minds spends the most of the time and that too in creativity and learning. So a highly esteemed person as a teacher can definitely be a role model for the students. A person can impart the moral education, ethics and values the best if he/she himself/herself follows them in his/her own life. A person of character has the wisdom to know right from wrong; is honest, trustworthy, fair, respectful and responsible; admits and learns from mistakes and commits to living according to these principles. A young mind while judging every bit of it would naturally be stimulated by the success the teacher who might have been a strict follower of the basic rules and customs. Therefore the ward will naturally be driven toward value education. Teacher being described as the instrument shaping the future of the society, by virtue of their own life can definitely be an example in front of the students.

 

This, I feel is beyond the boundaries of any time. The young mind is the most receptive one and the person from whom he receives the most in the same one he would look upon in future…it is beyond any doubt. This characteristic virtue is implanted in the minds of the young people since early childhood…this is the time when the basic education is given and this ultimately gets embedded in the sub-conscious mind that finally give shape to the character of the future citizen. The teacher is the person with whom the man spends the most productive time of his life and therefore it is none other than the teacher whop can become the superhero of the young minds. The teacher can do no wrong, the teacher knows everything…not even the parents…this is what the child psychology depicts…and this is the biggest challenge of the teacher. The question of being the role model therefore is not of possibility with the passage of time rather it is regarding how much efficiency is required and who really posses that to execute the same. The young minds are listening and little eyes are watching each and every move.

 

ABOLISH EXAMS ... DESTROY EDUCATION

Recently there have been some significant changes in the education system of our country. The changes are much publicized as a measure to make education less hectic and more pleasurable to the young learners. One of the drastic measures taken in accordance to the proposed reforms is the abolition of the pass/ fail or the examination system. In my opinion this is nothing but an impractical step taken that may seem to look like lessening the burden but in reality will result in hampering the quality of education. In the long run this will definitely have dreadful effects on the country's prospects. More than abolishing the examination system, the total system rather needs reformation whereby the pressure can be made less while at the same time evaluation can also be done. With the severe lack of proper infrastructure, imparting proper education is itself an uphill task in India. After that, if this new system is added to this, it will call for complete collapse. A student will never have the urge to study unless he has to prove his credentials somewhere. A future career or higher education is too distant a goal to enthuse these young minds. Also, all the students may not have similar aptitude for all the subjects. In that case, the absence of this evaluation system will hamper the over all learning. A student having no interest in science will therefore neglect that as he will no longer have to pass that subject in order to move on to the next level. But at school level overall nourishment and preparation is essential, specialized subject study being essentially a higher education prerogative. More than obliterating the examination system, reforming that is what is necessary. Instead of having an annual examination that burdens the children with the bulk of year long studies, it can be cut short into a number of shorter tests all round the year. It will enable the teacher to do justice to the individual talents. Even the students will be able to rectify their earlier mistakes. Parents will get the chance to rectify the faults of their wards and keep track of their gradual progress. Another implementation can be, to do away with the marking system and replace that with gradation. That will reduce the rat race for marks and the top most position in the class. That will enable the students to assess their aptitude, progress and supply ample opportunities to correct their mistakes while at the same time reduce the stress and the psychological adverse effects on the child concerned.

Continuance of the Discontinuity

discontinuity ... I feel thats the term that may fit right while depicting my love-hate relationship with this venture of mine.
This was basically an initiative to vent the anger-anguish that had pent up in me...a sense of miserable loss...some unknown-unspeakable pain ...I just tried to channelize those feelings through this...probably I became numb as not being able to re-feel that sensation...neither do I yearn for that to be true....but what queer point rises is...is writing or expression so much dependent on pains and woes?
as if....the fun times are too short lived to allow me to jot them down or I get too engaged in it to pen down a few....the sad moments remains to be ruminated alone and there comes out the urge to ket the world know my pains and suffering and hence the need to blog some obscure-childish-utter gibberish like jotting down which ultimately makes no sense to any one who so ever....do they bother me even...after that particular moment???
propagandizing my deepest private thoughts and boasting of being able to do so is nothing but imbecile upmanship.
So i discontinue .... right or wrong?...who cares
stay well...hope to put something down in near future

Aamar Bhasha

Kono ekdin amar anubhutira bhasha pabe,

Kono ekdin amar bhalobasa sochchaar hobe,

Kono ekdin amar protibaad mukhor hobe,

Kono ekdin,

Aasbe sedin ...

Jedin aamar bhabna jure elo melo rasta gulo

Sobaak bismoye taakiye bolbe,

"Bhasha phutechhe"

Bolbe ... "aami banchiye rekhechhi tomar prothom uchcharon

Prithibi ke chomke diye tomar prothom konthoswor

Stobdho juddhe hoy herechho noy jitechho

Aaj bojro nirghoshe janao toar abirbhab

Janao amar bhasha ache ...

Nirob bhasha

Adi-akritrim ... ajatshatru ...

My Dreams ... They live

Dreams cluster

Thoughts collage…

They form a fondling family in my mind.

They now rest in peace.

Scorched by the deadly sun,

Burned in the burning sand,

Betrayed by the killing storm,

They now rest in peace.

They have flapped their limits

Thousands and thousands of times.

They stirred,

They failed.

They resurged,

They prevailed…

Now after a toilsome ordeal

They rest in peace.

Do you know my dreams?

Look up anywhere

You find them.

Look into yourself,

You know them.

Those unplugged dreams of mine.

They live through pains

They suffer pains through living.

They embrace malice…

They tarnish them into gold.

My unplugged dreams,

They live through the pains.

They germinate

New soul in the New Horizon.

MY unplugged dreams…

They live through battles,

They strive through struggle,

They thrive through storms.

Now they rest in peace.

You find them dead.

Yes they die…

Only to rise like phoenix.

They only live.

My dreams---they still dream.