apula

Mamata's Kolkata---viewfinder of an outsider

2012-02-08T05:24:00.000-08:00

Mamata’s Kolkata---
The viewfinder of an outsider

The city to be dressed up in blue…the newspaper headline screamed. The fact was cemented with the new look of Writers’ Building. That’s Didi’s favourite colour, we’re told. Did we really need this change?

But ‘change’ is the word everybody is looking forward to.

For me the question of change came from an absolutely unexpected quarter. Dibyendu Mukherji came to my place as one of the two contractors who were to repair our newly allotted flat.
---Madam, as an outsider, what do you think about this change? Was it necessary?
---Yes, absolutely!! I think you all should have done it five years back. At least!
His face lit up. I knew instantly. Dibyendu is the new face of young Kolkata. Mamata’s Kolkata. That was about seven months back. A day after Shaheed Diwas and I’d already seen the pictures of the massive crowd in all my newspapers. In-spite of the torrential rain that day, people came in lakhs to listen to their new Chief Minister. Aamake Bhuter moto khatte hochche, she declared. But it was written everywhere. In all the faces. Specially the young brigade. The message was crystal clear. Mamata Banerjee now has to become a superwoman. Wherever I see, whoever I talk to, I see so much of expectations, I get scared. Can these people endure another dheela-dhaala rule in Bengal? Probably I shouldn’t use that word, but this is an absolutely individual outlook; as they say—“As an outsider”.
But I’m not an outsider in that absolute sense. I grew up on a staple diet of Ashutosh Mukherjee, Samaresh Basu, Shankar and many more their contemporaries during my teenage and later age. Being an Assamese helped because we share the same script. I still am a great fan of Bengali literature. So, even though Bengal is not my “Maa”, I can safely say She is my “Maasi” and equally endearing. However, I must confess my knowledge only restricts to Kolkata and that too not very far. Not yet.

When we got this transfer order last year, we were a little apprehensive. Talk about 34 years of pichiye jauya (going backtrack) was everywhere. A friend of my husband’s, who was posted here earlier joked—“ So you are going to the land of ‘ Jaani naa (I don’t know), Hobe naa (Can’t be done) and Ekhon hobe naa (Can’t be done now)!!” We got really scared. ‘It must have changed’…we tried to reason. My experiences say different stories. Whenever I visit a city after three to four years, normally I see pretty much changes. Delhi was pleasantly unrecognizable with many new flyovers and different metro rail routes. Thanks to the Commonwealth Games. In-spite of all those hue and cry Delhi did a commendable job. During our long stint in Mumbai we saw many changes too. And they all made us so proud. I would show off the worli sea link to all my visitors as if I made it myself !

But Kolkata was differently different. We were welcomed by very friendly and helpful people in a stagnant Kolkata. The same old Kolkata I last saw about eight years back. Nothing much has been changed. The tramline in front of our home carried old, colorless trams when I expected them to be bright and colorful with glass doors and windows. They do have a few new and colorful ones, but not the ones I expected. Kolkata is incomplete without this mode of communication. Yes, there are changes in Kolkata. We could see the unending line of private buses racing madly against each other. Do we really need so many buses? Isn’t tram a better mode of communication? Why have they stopped tram lines in many areas? No answer. Why newcomers like me have to ask for directions every time I step out? Why are there no indication boards to help people decide? Why are there no city bus stops with the name of the stoppage written on it so that the new people know where they have landed up? So many ‘whys’. I got my replies only today when Kolkata South MP Subrata Bakshi announced his plans for his city. Only because of the superb functioning of Metro rails, could I survive in Kolkata. I would give the whole credit for this to the old brigade. But it could still be better. May be in a few years.

When I was talking about helpful and friendly people, I was also talking about the changing attitude of Kolkata people. There still are Jaani naas, Hobe naas and Ekhon hobe naas but they are now coming out of those old phrases. Instead, I could see a new and bright side of them; Eager to please and that too with a smile. I am so happy that Mamata Banerjee has the support of a bright new generation to rebuild her Kolkata. A more beautiful and organized Kolkata. A safe Kolkata. We all are waiting for it. Take your time Lady…we know only you can do it and you can do it without changing the old beautiful aesthetic colour of Kolkata buildings!

The day when I disagreed with Shobhaa De!

2007-07-23T01:32:00.000-07:00

I’m an ardent fan of Shobhaa De. Not the writer Shobhaa De. I like the columnist better. But I must admit, it’s her persona that makes me her fan. I simply love her way of that no nonsense talking style.

However, I didn’t and couldn’t agree with even Shobhaa, when she said in one of her magazine interviews a few months back, that Bais are the great time managers.

But then I didn’t meet Manisha, my part time helper. I cannot call her Bai because she simply doesn’t fit into that term.

I first met her when I shifted to South Mumbai from Malad about a year back. As my friend introduced Manisha to me, my first thought was ‘could this pretty face with a fragile frame deliver’? Moreover, she was already working with four families.
As I expressed my doubts, my friend assured me ‘She’s the best in this building and she doesn’t even do chuttis. She wants the money also.’ I gave in.

As Manisha started working for me. I gradually came to know her routine. Her day starts at about 5-30 in the morning every day. She finishes all her chores at her own home, including cooking for the day, before starting her work at our building. She’s at my place sharp at 8-15 after finishing her work at my friend’s place.
In between her work, she makes three trips (you got it right…three trips) to her daughters’ school, which is about a kilometer and in the East Grant Road, because both her daughters have different timing in the same school.

As I see a tired but smiling Manisha finish her day at about 10-30 at night, I wonder each & every night--where does she find those stamina?

I’m flabbergasted by her expertise, the flair with which she delivers her duty to the satisfaction of each and every member of five families. It’s awesome—something I never experienced anywhere in India and trust me-- I’ve been going to many parts of this country with my husband’s posting.

There must be many more Manishas in Mumbai---who become like a friend and also a source of encouragement to many like me.

I salute them all for they can actually beat any top management company with their skill.

You were right again Shobhaa!

2007-04-05T00:09:00.000-07:00

Tussle

The tussle between my head & heart
Is getting more & more intense

I try to go up the ladder
I want to listen to all that my heart says

But suddenly head pulls me back
Scolding gets from bad to worse

As I weep…
Both head & heart stand by me—
Hand in hand

Both embrace me.
Serenity reinstated
As they make truce

The assault on my honesty

2007-01-09T21:36:00.000-08:00

My niece was astonished that I offered to sit on the bench outside her ATM while she withdraws her money.
“Why should you sit there? Come, come. Come inside with me.”
I reluctantly went into that glass cubicle remembering how I enjoyed watching my friends and relatives as they inserted their magic cards and saw the fascinating machine giving out the amount of money they needed. I was truly captivated by the act of that machine. I still am. But I’m equally impressed by all such machines, including the one which give out colorful bubblegum balls. Somehow, whenever I see them, I always remember the story I heard from my nani about that forest which had full of gold trees with diamonds and pearls as their fruits.
It’s been a while since I’m inside this cubicle. For a long time now, I prefer to sit or stand outside ATMs while the card owners go inside and get the money.
It was a rainy day. I accompanied my best friend, who’s new to the city, to help her find an ATM. As our taxi waited outside, I ran behind my friend to the machine to watch her withdraw money.
“You needn’t come. I’ll manage.”
“No, no. I just want to watch you withdraw.” I was too excited to see her disapproving face.
The assault on my honesty and integrity was severe. Unexpected and absolute. The manicured hand that blocked my view from reaching the keyboard was too heavy on my heart. And my decision about not entering an ATM with anybody was instant.

2006-11-28T03:22:00.000-08:00

I'm so happy that I took that ride
I don't like to travel by bus. I prefer a train. In a city like Mumbai it's inevitable I suppose. But sometimes you get to see or meet something or somebody so special in Mumbai streets that it makes the whole experience worthwhile and it leaves a mark deep inside you.Going to my sons' school makes me sick. Not that they are bad in studies-both of them are doing really well. But they are doing equally well in all the mischief areas. So, invariably I land up listening to all the complaints the class teacher piles up to pour on me the moment she sees me on that special day i.e infront of all other parents. Sometimes I question their ability--and ask myself-' are they actually equipped to teach the next generation?'
It was a regular weekday-in a hot mumbai summer.I started at the Malad West bus stop as that's the only way I could go to my sons' school.
Was it near the fire station or was it the Malwani stop? I don't remember properly; but I remember one thing clearly--there were many of them. Wearing sky blue half shirts and nevy blue pants. Unlike my sons there were hardly any shoe or tie to go with their uniforms. Most of them were wearing hawai chappals or faded flotters.
'Tere paas kitna hai?'The whisper was loud enough for my ear.
'ek rupaiya. dekh to woh sahi me charh nehi paya kya?'
the two little boys-just about the same age as my sons-were nervous that their friend who had the moneyfor the bus fare couldn't board the bus. It's natural. I can't even imagine my sons travelling in a bus all alone like this.
'main madad kar sakti hu?' the mother inside me prompted to utter the words.
'nehin, nehin auntie. thik hai.'
' mere paas kafi change hai, de du?'I offered again.
' nenin.' came the firm reply. 'jyada se jyada hum dono ko ek stop paidal jana parega, bas.'
My instinct said that I shouldn't hurt their feelings. I didn't want to assult their pride.Their self respect. But just the thought of these two small boys walking about a mile under the hot summer sun made me wanted to cry.
I gulped down my tears. Seeing them getting down made me happy and sad at the same time. Happy because they are the next generation--with the right amount of pride and self respect. Sad because my sons are not like them.