Our member Ms A Dasgupta was born in Dhaka, Sadarghat. Here she shares some fond memories of her childhood.
Ms A Dasgupta, who grew up in a joint family, was very attached to her father ...
Our member Ms A Dasgupta was born in Dhaka, Sadarghat. Here she shares some fond memories of her childhood.
Ms A Dasgupta, who grew up in a joint family, was very attached to her father and uncle and used to accompany them everywhere—be it the large open terrace of their rented house, or to the school where her cousin sister studied.
Every night, her father took her to the open terrace and lying down on a mat, showed her the stars. He used to tell her stories about how they were named for easy identification. “I can still remember the wide and clear night sky with thousands of twinkling stars. I came to know about constellations like ‘Kalpurush’, ‘Saptarshi’ and their significant patterns. I have never seen such a wide expanse of clear sky after that”, she says.
She still cherishes the memory of accompanying her cousin sister to her school every day. The school, with its vast playground and the Buri Ganga river flowing nearby, made her look forward to dropping her cousin to school, along with her father or her uncle. When she secured admission in the same school as her cousin, she had thought that she would be sitting in the same classroom as her cousin. So, when she was taken to a different classroom, she was very upset. But the school knew just how to distract the little ones on the first day—they gave them beautiful gifts. “I still remember sister Vimla, who was my first class teacher. She came in carrying a bag full of beautiful dolls, which were popularly known as bileti doll (foreign doll) in those days and I immediately stopped crying and got busy playing with the dolls. She was one of my favourite teachers till I was there.”
There was a small room with colourful chairs and small tables for all the students to have lunch. A lady used to monitor the students when they had lunch. She used to ensure that decorum was maintained—for example, the students had to wipe their mouths properly after finishing the meal.
The watchful gatekeeper, who seemed like a giant to the tiny girls, was very strict and helped to maintain discipline. He did all his tasks very sincerely, starting from closing the gate once school started to ensuring that there was discipline in the playgrounds. One of the rules was that seniors and juniors were not allowed to play together. During playtime, for the first few days, Ms A Dasgupta, however, cleverly managed to run off to meet her sister, who used to play on a different playground. And much to her cousin’s embarrassment, Ms A Dasgupta would clutch her cousin’s dress and stand there all through playtime.
There was a church inside the school campus and Ms A Dasgupta still vividly remembers the thunderous sound of the big church bell in between and at the end of the school day. Another memory very close to her heart is that of fishermen’s boats sailing on the Buri Ganga river and their melodious songs, which she later came to know from her father as “Bhatiali songs”. The boats would be out of her sight, but the reverberating tune would keep the surroundings mesmerized.
“Where does the fisherman go, dad?" This simple question from a little girl would be accompanied by the common answer, "Grow up and you will come to know how the river meets the sea and the hard life of the fishermen, who risk their lives every day to earn their livelihood but still frame such wonderful lyrics with equally wonderful tunes.”
(As told to Support Elders by our member.)
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Guwahati, erstwhile Gauhati, where our member, Ms S. Bhowmik, lived with her husband, abounds in picturesque places that they loved to visit. This was the land of the mighty Brahmaputra where her husband was a professor of Biotechnology in ...
Guwahati, erstwhile Gauhati, where our member, Ms S. Bhowmik, lived with her husband, abounds in picturesque places that they loved to visit. This was the land of the mighty Brahmaputra where her husband was a professor of Biotechnology in Guwahati University and she was the Principal of CBSE Higher Secondary school. A visit from relatives meant a visit to these places. One such place was the Umananda Temple, dedicated to Lord Shiva, on the Peacock Island that lies in the middle of Brahmaputra. A haven for nature lovers, Umananda could be reached by car, up to the ferry ghat and then by country boats. The ferry ride is quite an experience because of the breathtaking view of the Brahmaputra.
The Peacock Island is the smallest inhabited riverine island in the world. The temple was built on the Bhasmacala mountain in 1694 A.D. by King Gadadhar Singha. It was destroyed by an earthquake in 1867 and rebuilt by a wealthy merchant. The rock-cut figures here show the intense masterly skill of Assamese craftsmen. Shiva apart, there are idols of 10 other Hindu Gods. “This serene environment makes one want to sit down for a while and absorb the beauty of the place,”, she said.
Another must visit place was to Basisthashram, reachable by car driving on the outskirts of the beautiful Garbhanga Reserve Forest. Basisthashram dates back to the Vedic age, a hermitage believed to have been built by the Sage Vasishtha at Sandhyachal, to pray to Lord Shiva. The original temple is in the cave and has a waterfall. Sage Vasishtha is said to have died at Basithashram, where lies his grave. The Saraighat Setu on the Brahmaputra, makes for another indelible memory.
(As told to Support Elders by our member.)
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Our member, Ms S. De, lived in Kharagpur. Her husband was a professor at Kharagpur IIT. Along with a few like-minded ladies, she started a charitable organisation for the underprivileged families, working as sweepers or office hands at IIT. ...
Our member, Ms S. De, lived in Kharagpur. Her husband was a professor at Kharagpur IIT. Along with a few like-minded ladies, she started a charitable organisation for the underprivileged families, working as sweepers or office hands at IIT. Once their husbands left for work and the children for their schools, the ladies would have an adda, session.
It was during one such session that the idea for social impact organisation was born. 'Charity begins at home' was the motto. The ladies put together their little savings and visited the homes of the hired hands and class IV staff quarters. The idea was to ensure that their children got educated. They realised that male alcoholism was rampant and it was a tough task to convince them about the importance of education to bring their children into the mainstream of society and make good lives for themselves.
So great was the resentment that even the otherwise polite people, "who worked for us as helpers, got abusive in their inebriated states. Sometimes their wives would signal to us to leave once their husbands were back home". The ladies became activists at heart and and finally managed to extricate some children from their environment and started to teach them.
The resentment persisted though. "We often found the books and clothes that we gave them were shredded and even burnt. Over time, the mothers were convinced and it became easier to get more children into a small classroom". The local priest was so happy with the endeavour that he gave them a big room behind the temple.
The second phase was to engage the women in some productive activity to generate additional income for the family. Classes for sewing, stitching and making handicrafts followed, with assistance for buying material and marketing the products. Many women got interested but resistance came from an unexpected source. Some professors got upset because their hired hands were getting more interested in stitching than household work!
Funding remained a problem and the ladies collected funds and donations from traders and business groups. "It all paid off though when some of our students went for higher studies. Nothing could give us greater pleasure and satisfaction."
(As told to Support Elders by our member.)
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Our member, Mr K. L. Chatterjee, spent his career working in ordnance factories at Ambernath, Maharashtra and others but has never forgotten his village Jhikira, where he was brought up.
On the border of Howrah and Hooghly, ...
Our member, Mr K. L. Chatterjee, spent his career working in ordnance factories at Ambernath, Maharashtra and others but has never forgotten his village Jhikira, where he was brought up.
On the border of Howrah and Hooghly, at village Jhikra, was the childhood home of our member, Mr K. L. Chatterjee. There was much debate about the curious name and most held that the origin of the name came from the 'jhik', the traditional 'chullha' (clay oven) of the region.
For the child, however, it was the sheer beauty of the place on the bank of the river Mundeswari, a distributary of the Damodar. “The Damodar river and the greenery surrounding the village and the free and relaxing lifestyle was totally different from what we have now. The calm, clean and serene ambiance enveloping the communities helped us to grow,” says Mr Chatterjee. It was a cultured and rather developed village and had a high school even 150 years back. It had brick roads, tube wells for drinking water other than a few big ponds, each with its own name.
There were the palaces, 'rajbaris' of the landed gentry too; of the Koleys and Roys. They awed him with their architectural splendour and sculptured panels that were in line with European mansions, even though the early signs of decay had set in. There were also beautiful terracotta temples, gilded with crafted earth; sophisticated bas-relief work, which attracted people from near and far. The boys from the palaces were his classmates but they never flaunted their wealth, though they were objects of great curiosity for the children at the beginning.
His father and many other men went to the city of Howrah where they worked. The commute meant ferrying across the river that all but dried up every summer. A bamboo pool would be constructed across the river bed, which would get washed away by the monsoon rains, when the Damodar turned fierce.
For the children, these made life interesting. There was, of course, the sheer joy of playing in the open. They needed no luxuries to enjoy life. Resources were limited and children knew how to find fun in the mundane. Higher studies demanded a move from the village but the memories remain etched in a beautiful corner of his mind.
(As told to Support Elders by our member.)
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Our member, Ms S. Basu, gets a peep into human minds through the fan following for Maradona…
I have never been to the field to watch a real football game. My view of a match ...
Our member, Ms S. Basu, gets a peep into human minds through the fan following for Maradona…
I have never been to the field to watch a real football game. My view of a match has been from my verandah, looking down on a bunch of kids wallowing in muddy puddles or under the scorching sun, running after the elusive ball. Yet the divide between East Bengal and Mohan Bagan is a real one and loyalties in the mock battle are as per one’s origin in the east or west ofBengal. For that one need not know the niceties and intricacies of the game but needs to be able to enjoy the taste of Hilsa or Chingri, when they are served.
I could never really comprehend the madness for the Football World Cup in which India never came near to participation till my son pointed out that the supremacy of the game was established by the fact that one could get passionately involved even when your team was not participating. “Can you think of such a possibility with cricket?” He asked. “You just adopt a country through the World Cup and follow its fortunes till the end”. I came to adopt Argentina and thereby Maradona.
Come to think of it, Maradona did not require the media or any branding to create his image. It was his game and skill alone that made him the unalloyed legend that he was. It was rather unobtrusively that he wound his way through the players and punched the ball into the top of the goal. I was mesmerised by the stodgy figure in the blue and white striped No. 10 jersey easing his way through the field. Off the field, he went about quite unaware of the fuss around him.
My grandson is now a fan of Messi and a host of other players that I cannot recognise. However, along with his craze for contemporary players, the legend of Maradona continues. There are some other names like Don Bradman, Mohammad Ali and Tiger Woods, who live on irrespective of the game they play or the country to which they belong. Maradona, like them, gave me a ring side view of what humans are capable of.
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