Our member Ms A. Ray reminisces about her childhood when Manimela gatherings—a pre-Independence initiative for children—turned Poil Baishakh celebrations into an occasion of cultural expression, friendship, and youthful revelry.


I have always enjoyed celebrating Poila Baishakh, the Bengali New Year. When we were young, our celebrations of Poila Baishakh were largely centred around our neighbourhood Manimela, an initiative started by the writer Bimal Ghosh, popularly known as Moumachhi (The Bee). Founded in pre-Independence Kolkata, the Manimela movement aimed at the cultural upliftment of children, and there used to be such spaces in every large locality. These associations quickly grew in number, and soon there were hundreds of them in the city. In my youth, I spent a lot of time at these gatherings, drawing, painting, singing, playing, and even studying with other children in my local Manimela.
On Poila Baishakh, we would wake up early in the morning and drape ourselves in white saris with bright red borders, while the younger children dressed in white frocks. We would then step out and go around the neighbourhood, singing songs at street corners. Later in the evening, we put on performances of Tagore’s dance dramas and sang his songs. I actively participated in these revelries, lending my voice to the choir or even dancing in circles to choreographed routines. Tagore was not the only focus at our cultural evenings. I remember performing to popular songs such as “Cholo Kodaal Chalai,” a farmers’ tune urging people to work together. We were a close-knit group, and these activities strengthened our bond.
Manimela was an integral part of my childhood, shaping some of my happiest memories. I was an active, spirited child and loved taking part in stick fights, knife throwing, kho-kho, and kabaddi. We even went trekking together.
Sadly, these celebrations, open only to children below the age of 16, soon came to an end for me. Today, only a handful of Manimela groups remain, and I feel that children today are missing out on something truly special.
Now, I am confined to my chair and move around with the help of a walker. But the memories of Manimela remain vivid, filling me with gratitude for a childhood rich in friendship, adventure, and joy.

(As narrated to Support Elders by our member)

National Pet Day, celebrated annually on April 11, gives us the opportunity to celebrate the deep bond between humans and animals. We spoke to our member, Ms J. Dutta, who shared how a chance encounter with a stray cat changed her life forever.

You could say I’m an animal lover. When I hear stories of animals being harmed, it pains me. I form loving connections with animals quickly and have always enjoyed having pets. Back in the ’70s and ’80s, I had two dogs who gave birth to a litter of four pups—so we had six in all.
For many years now, I have fed the stray cats in my neighbourhood. We share a mutually beneficial relationship—I give them food, and in return, they keep the rats away. In 2013, I broke my leg and was confined to my bed. A fat-tailed stray cat used to visit me for food every day. One day, I spotted a bit of cotton on the bottom shelf of my almirah and asked the aayah, who was taking care of me, to investigate. She bent down and discovered a litter of kittens. I asked her to leave them alone, hoping the mother would return later and take them away. The day passed without any sign of the mother cat. In the meantime, the kittens grew hungry and started mewing loudly. The aayah grew concerned and asked me for some money to buy milk, which she fed to the tiny creatures.
On the third day, the mother cat returned and began feeding the kittens but did not take them away. And so, the aayah and the house help continued to care for them. Bit by bit, the kittens grew up healthy and strong.
In March 2014, I broke my leg again and went to stay with my daughter, who was living in Mumbai at the time. While I was away, my house help looked after the kittens. By the time I returned, they were living comfortably in the house, and I was overjoyed to have them around. There used to be three of them, but in 2017, one passed away. Now, I have two: Mishtimoni, who has black patches on her head, and Pui, a handsome, fat-tailed cat. The two have developed very distinct tastes in food—Mishtimoni loves steamed silver carp, whereas Pui prefers her cat food. The greatest joy of having pets is how easily one can communicate with them. My two cats are very loving but also quite mischievous. They often get into fights, but when I scold them, they understand my tone of voice, stop fighting, and slink away.
My two cats came into my life unexpectedly, and now they occupy an important place in it. Perhaps this is what love is like—it enters your life without warning and grows into something that fills your days.

(As narrated to Support Elders by our member)