Growing Up!!

I always worry how Ishan is growing up without a proper Bengali upbringing. I know it sounds foolish, but I truly want him to know how my baba and mum grew up, how me and my siblings grew up…. those small happiness, small moments. In a big city like Mumbai, all that he gets to do never look sufficient to me. One has far more independence in a smaller town. Big fields, big parks, mango orchards to go and steal, neighbours who are more like family. I try to inculcate in him the habits that we all had….. I force him to read books, I force him to play board games. The list is long…..

But day before yesterday I witnessed something and it made me think for long. In the evening, Ishan wanted to go out and play with his friends and I obliged. There I saw him doing something unusual. He and his friends wrote a big OM (in hindi, of course) in a card board, they stole some Diwali diyas and lit them….one of the kids got a mat and all of them sat down….. someone managed to get kumkum powder and all of them made tilaks….. then Ishan became the purohit and recited all the mantras that I taught him…..starting from Saraswati mantra, Durga, Shiva, Manasha. One of the kids asked him to recite Hanuman Chalisa. So he started…Jai Hanuman Gyaan Gun Sagar……. and after that what he said I did not understand because he does not know the chalisa….. but all the other kids thought he knew and they were all listening with rapt attention. The way he played the part of a purohit was commendable, he was very confident. Then he remembered the naam kirtan that my mother does at home and he started - Jay Jay Dayananda…….. all the kids also chanted with him…….

I was amazed to see that he remembers the mantras which he repeats before going to sleep. That he took the role of purohit and did the puja….. that he knew when to offer flowers and when to chant the mantras..... that they chose to do a puja instead of playing and fighting and getting hurt…..

Suddenly I was a proud mother. Not everything is so bad to worry about……….. but I am a mother….a selfish one who wants her kid to get the best of everything……. So…….. bye bye till I worry again!!

I insist on saying Happy Kali Pujo!!

When I was young, I did not know what Diwali was...... it was Kali Pujo for us. Yes, after Durga Pujo we used to wait for Kali Pujo and we knew that on the next day of Kali Pujo we will burst crackers..... 'baji porano'. Don't know if the term 'Diwali' had so much importance then. 'Dhanteras' was a totally alien word to us.

So it was Kali Pujo that we used to be geared up for. Washing the diyas, keeping them in water so that it does not get super dry, then drying them little, pouring oil, thread (solte) and keeping the diyas ready was the best thing that I remember. I used to be super happy doing all these. Then in the evening after lighting them I used to run to the road to see how my house is looking from there..... used to go and watch it from every possible angle and come home satisfied. Then running around with candle in hand so that the diyas keep burning till night. Aaah what fun!!...... The pujo always used to start at night...so after bursting some crackers we used to go to the nearest pujo pandal and sit there for a while. Next day morning we used to go to Samshan Kali Bari to have a darshan and prasad and then we used to wait for evening to burst more crackers. This is what my Kali Pujo used to be.

Kali pujo used to be followed by Bhai fota and I always waited for that. The wait was more for the gift than the urge to give fota. Although I knew the gifts that I was going to get, still the wait was great. The gifts had a set pattern - pen set, slam book, comics, hair band, hair clips. However repetitive it was, I was never tired of them and used to love the fact that Dada was giving something.

Till date, I go to Silchar during Kali Pujo and give bhai fota to dada and still love getting gifts.... yes the gifts have become more matured gifts now. :)

But the essence of Kali Pujo has changed now. Even in Silchar I hear people waiting for Diwali and not Kali Pujo. I know the name does not change anything but it kills the emotion that I have kept alive within me all these years. We are Bengalis and it is Kali Pujo for us. Yes, I am sounding odd I know, but that is what I love to call it. So, I do not know how to react when a Bengali wishes me 'Happy Dhanteras'.....well I definitely respond back politely but then why? Someone who celebrates Dhanteras should be wished the same, we celebrate Kali Pujo so we should be wished that way.

So today on Dhanteras day....I wish Dhanteras to all who celebrate Dhanteras, Diwali to all who celebrate Diwali and Kali Pujo to all my Bengali friends!!

Have a great Kali Pujo!!

My Assam!!

Born and brought up in Assam I always took certain things for granted. Things like lush greenery, rain drenched morning, cold winter morning, dew drops, rainbows, hail storms, chasing butterflies, big houses, garden, the list is endless. I never thought that in some parts of the world these things are a rarity, these things are luxury.

While growing up, I went to many towns of Assam as my Baba had a transferrable job. So, I was born in Silchar, then to Diphu, to Tejpur, Guwahati, again Diphu and then Silchar. At that time my Mom refused to do more of city hopping as she was concerned about our studies and we settled down at Silchar.

So, although I spent most of my childhood years in Silchar, I also have memories of all the other towns. Then after class 10th, I went to Haflong and stayed with my Kaku for 2 years. It was wonderful 2 years that I spent there. I made some friends for life there and have some great memories.

Mumbai happened to me after marriage and for the last 11 years I am in Mumbai. After Silchar, if I call any other city home, it is Mumbai. I have adapted myself to the city and have been blessed with some wonderful friends here. So, I have a great social circle here and am really happy.

That is not what I want to tell you all. What I want to say is that even though I call Mumbai home, there is a constant urge to go back to Silchar once in a while. Whenever I go there, I come all rejuvenated to take on life. Yes, that is a place that my soul resides. Now, I have started showing symptoms of an unknown disease. I have started owning everything that North East India has! For example, it used to be Kaziranga National park untill it became 'My Kaziranga', Brahmaputra and Barak used to be rivers common to all, but all of a sudden they have become 'my Barak' and 'my Brahmaputra'. Similarly, it is 'my Guwahati', 'my Silchar', 'my Shillong' and the list goes on. Everything and every part of North East has become MINE, I don't know from when..... so I ask people....have you seen 'My Shillong'? You will forget any other hill Station..... do you have Assam Silk from 'my Assam'.

Not only that, I keep on telling Ishan - "during my childhood I used to run after butterflies and play outdoors all day with dada". Well, now I know in my heart that in Mumbai where sighting a butterfly is only a big thing how can he possibly chase one? I also know that even if he wants to play all day out I will not allow him. Still I go on and on. Now I have come to the colclusion that this is a disease. I cannot expect my son to grow up in Mumbai exactly how I grew up in 'my Assam'! Still I want him to do things that I did. Per me he is missing the fun, which is probably not correct. He does not know those fun things that we used to do, so probably for him playing a video game and cricket is more fun than langdi, kabaddi, land & water or gilli danda. But the thought that he will be detached from the things that I hold so dear to me, makes me worry.

I want 'My Assam' to be 'Our Assam' with Ishan in it. He loves Silchar dearly....we all love the place where our grandparents stay, don't we? Despite that, I fear that his love for Silchar or Assam or North East will not be as intense as mine.

Alas, this disease is eating me up!!!! By the way have you visited 'My North East' ever? It is heaven on earth, you are always welcome there.

Faces that we have, masks that we wear and games that we play

Faces that we have, masks that we wear and games that we play...... aaah it is difficult to recognise people nowadays. The people I see around me everyday, are not real people, they are all playing a role, a part in a game. People I know today, are the ones I don't recognise tomorrow. It made me wonder - WHY?? WHY are we not real people, why do we have to play a part to survive?

Then I realised that the answer lies in my question itself. TO SURVIVE. Right!! Darwin said - Survival of the fittest. Darwin would have changed his theory had he been born in today's world. Today we do all possible things to survive. We lie, we pull down others, we wear a mask, we back stab, we smile at someone and plan to ruin his/ her life. Where are we heading to? What are we gaining from all this? The negativity is engulfing everyone. We are fake, we were not born fake but we have turned ourselves into that. We are teaching our kids to be fake. I heard a mother telling her son - "do not smile at strangers, all are kidnappers here!!" I was aghast! Yes, I know we need to make a child understand about his/ her surroundings. But do we need to tell him that anyone and everyone he meets everyday are kidnappers? This is one of the reason why we do not see smiling kids nowadays. We see kids who are calculating every step, measuring everything. We have stalled their childhood and made them adult. What values can they give back to the society? What can they teach their kids?

I love to smile at people, talk to strangers, make friends..... and I always meet people who try to judge me. Why? Why not you lead your own life and let me lead mine?

I refuse to play a role and wear a mask and so I am not liked by people. But whatever people say, do, or however they behave, I am not going to change to please them. I am not born to please others, I am here to enjoy my life...please myself and leave the world as a happy soul. Please try to come and ruin it and you will be so super disappointed!! I promise that!

Teaching not to rape!!!!

"Don't teach girls what to wear, teach boys not to rape", was a post that everyone liked and shared on facebook. We hated the men who raped and killed "Damini", we hate all men who think women are objects of lust. We hate men who don't respect women as equals.

But wait, what does the facebook post imply to? Do by any chance anyone out there think that the parents of the culprits coaxed them to rape? Will any sane person believe that a parent will teach a kid to rape? Where does the question of teach not to rape come from? I have a son and I really want to teach him how not to rape....so what do I do? As a parent all that I can do is teach him lessons in morality, behaviour and etiquette. I can teach him how to respect human being, why only women, he should respect men too! My job ends there, I cannot shadow him everywhere to give him moral lessons 24/7. He has to know right from wrong, he has to carve his own character. I can only support him in that.

So in doing that, am I teaching him how not to rape? I am not clear about this. I kept on thinking for all these months after the Delhi rape case - who is to be blamed? Of course the MEN who were involved in it but why are their parents being targeted? Just because they have a son or because it is easier to put on blame when the person is from the weaker section?

Everyday I see some posts which say how a SON should be brought up. My question is, who has seen how those men were brought up? Probably their parents never had the time, money or energy left to give them some moral lessons. I am not supporting their act, that was henious and they should be severly punished. What I want to say is what makes people blame the parents? I really want to know why parents of a boy child are made to feel like culprits whenever such incidents happen, whereas the parents of a girlchild are looked upon as victims.

I would say we all have kids and we all are trying our best to give them the best of everything, so such posts surely hurt. So now, I need to go and ensure I teach my son how not to rape..........  but how...... any idea? ......huffffff.......

I am, that's why the world is!

Yeah, I believe in women power. No I am not a feminist and so please do not try to find any feminist hue in my words. I am just an activist for equality. So, I want the society to treat us as equal and not second class citizens. I do not want a reserved seat in a bus, I never take seats when offered by men, I do not believe in Ladies First policy. I am strong enough to stand in a crowded bus, brave the shoving people and come out with intact dignity. I truly believe that my dignity is not so fragile to be crushed by some nasty men trying to push or touch me. So yes, I stand in a bus with men around me and smile at their pettiness. I am not saying all men are same. Once a man in a bus stood like a barrier between me and some rogues. I have also met men who spoke to me looking at my eyes and not below. I have also met men who respected me as equal and we became friends. I met men who admired my inner beauty. So the list goes on.......

I have to admit here that I have more male friends than female. Is it because opposite attracts? I cannot say. But yes, I like the frankness that men have. I can mingle well with them and talk my heart out, as they don't hold grudges and are non-judgmental. But yes, I have to agree such men are few. Whenever I meet them, I make friends with them as they are priceless.

I hope someday my son Ishan grows up to be like them. I am trying hard to make him learn how to respect women and love them. He knows that his parents are equal in every way. Hope he understands that in the bigger canvas. He gave me a loving hug this morning and said - "Happy Women's Day mamma, you know na that I love you?" That made my day. I felt the same joy which I had when he was born. He is not someone who will remember a day and wish you. I saw him taking out a note from his drawer and then confirming the date in the calendar. He took so much pain just to wish me? Yes, my man is growing up!

So, it is a man (little one, I know) who made my day today!

Happy Women's Day!!  A day to celebrate womanhood? No that we do every day. It is a day to stop, smell the roses and feel happy.

I truly believe - "I am, that's why the world is!"

Teaching Ishan!! ;)

Ishan scored a zero in his drawing exam when he was in nursery!! From the very childhood he had a mind of his own and used to think unusually. The teacher announced to me on the report day - "Mrs. Nag, I am sorry to say that he has got a zero in drawing because he could not identify the colour that I showed him". I was stunned because that was the only subject I thought he would pass!! He was extremely good at colours, from a very young age he could identify colours very well. I was happy to see that although he FAILED in colour it did not hamper his promotion to the next class. But to be more sure what colour to teach him and how to make him 'colour ready' I asked the teacher as to which colour he could not identify. That was when I got the shock! He could not identify RED. Well, I thought to myself if that is the case then all my analysis of 'he knowing colours well' was a waste and I did not know my son well. Oblivious of what we thought about him, he was playing with his then best friend - Kanno. I called him where the teacher was standing and asked pointing to a red wall- "tell me the colour of the wall." He immediately said 'Red'. Now I was angry and embarassed, I asked him why he did not identify it when the teacher asked....  he looked sorely at the teacher and said - "Mamma this teacher cannot remember anything, she asked me the colour of the ball the previous day also and I said it was Red. So why should I answer the same question everyday... that's why I did not answer!! The teacher laughed and gave him a toffee and I learnt my first lesson - he has a solid mind of his own and EXAM is an alien word to him.

So, then I started to make him exam-ready - "Lovu whatever the teacher asks, you have to answer. They want to know if you have learnt all that they taught you". He obediently said "okay mamma". Job done, I was happy with myself. Then came the time when I had to take him to schools for admission tests. I did not teach him anything extra because I do not believe in all that, I wanted him to enjoy his growing up days. I asked him to tell the teacher whatever he knows. We went to a school in Airoli and the interview was just a formality there as he already got the admission. Once inside, the teacher asked me how I will manage with a job and I gave her the gyaan of how working mothers are the best ..blah blah.... Then came his turn and she asked him pointing to an apple - "what is this?" He said  - "An apple". He was bored and his look gave away that. Then the teacher asked him showing a ball - "what is this?" "It is a ball". There was a fish tank in her table and the teacher asked pointing to a fish - "what is this?" Ishan got up from his chair and said loudly and in hindi - Mamma chalo, iss techer ko kuch bhi nahin aata hai... mujhe iss school mein nahin aana hai!!!! I wondered why he did not say that in Bengali, I would have managed the situation in that case. But, for some reason, the teacher was happy and said "welcome to my school". Eventually he did not go to that school as he got into another school in Thane, but that was an EXPERIENCE for me. I came out and asked him what made him say so and that too in Hindi.... he said "you want me to come to a teacher who does know an apple, a ball or a fish?" Well the message was loud and clear - do not test my knowledge.

Till date, his stance has not changed. He hates tests and keeps on saying - Ishan knows all so why write and prove it? To teach him is no mean job, he expects you to know all. So, if he asks you the capital of Timbaktu ..you have to give him an answer and that too a correct one because he will remember it and refer to it the next time. During Durga Puja, he started asking me questions about the significance of 10 hands of Maa Durga and why she killed the poor asur and why she goes around in a Lion .... is she not afraid.... etc etc... the questions were endless. I used to answer him to the best of my abilities... I called my Mom and got answers for the ones that I was not sure about. One day, Ishan was very restless to know the name of all of the weapons that Maa Durga holds. I was cooking and so I asked him to wait for a few minutes. As he was impatient, so he went to his dad with the same question. Now I don't know what discussion the father child had because I was relieved not to be at the receiving end of the questions. I was apprehensive also, because I know my husband's knowledge in matters related to God!! But he was appeased and he did not ask me anything else about that. Next day being my off day, I went to pick him up from the bus stand. Two kids came rushing towards me - aunty aunty Siddhartha said Maa Durga has AK-47 in one of her hands, is that true! Well, I burst out laughing and said it is not true. Now Ishan or Siddhartha was very angry at me. He was proved wrong in front of his friends, he said "but Daddy said that it is AK-47!" Then I got the full story. He was asked in his class to tell about Durga Puja and he said Maa Durga is an extremely powerful Goddess, she has AK-47 in one of her hands. When the teacher tried correcting him he said that this fact is confirmed by his father. Post Durga Puja, Samir has not met Ishan's class teacher!

Blogpost title - “Love, life and the space in-between” - my entry to the GetPublished contest

Idea Description:

This story is about 2 women who have lived their prime time and are in the sunset of their life. Emon (Mr. Sanyal) and Sayantani (Mrs. Bhattachayra) are friends though they never give their relation any name. Their kids are grown up and so they have time to catch up every day and talk about issues that they face. Their little paradise of peace was rocked when Emon got a letter. From who and what is the story all about.

Extract:

Emon has this habit of checking the letter box whenever she passes through it. Today was no different, she opened and found some bills and a letter for her. Putting them in her coat pocket she went for her evening walk. When must have these letters come, she thought. She checked the box in the morning as well and it was empty. Letters are so fascinating for her, they have a charm of their own. Ivy does not understand this charm and she teases her all the time. At this modern age of emails, she still believes letters are written from heart, there is someone real writing it and you can feel and smell the person through letters.

Mrs, Bhattacharya was already taking rounds of the ground when Emon reached. They went around the garden discussing everyday things and sharing concern. Emon came back from her walk and sat down for a while, age has taken a toll on her health. Earlier she used to walk for an hour without getting tired but now she gets tired and needs rest after her walk. Sitting in her armchair, she goes back to those days when Shyam was there with her. Her Shyam, handsome, dark, medium built Shyam. “Dimma, I was looking for you everywhere. Where were you?” Ipshit’s voice woke her up. She went hurriedly to the kitchen, Ivy will come any time and she needs to make tea and give milk to Ipshit. Suddenly she remembered about the letter that has come. She gets tea for herself and settles down in the reading table. She takes out the letter from her coat pocket. It is a worn out envelop, someone must have used an old. The handwriting is not familiar but it is very lucid, has she seen it somewhere?

Em,

How are you? ….Emon sits straight with a start. After so many years someone addressed her as Em. Is it him? …after so many years? …who gave him her address? …why now? With trembling hands she read the letter twice. Yes it is him. No she does not want to think about him or the letter. She has to hide the letter before Ivy comes back from office. She needs to talk to Mrs. Bhattacharya.

"This is my entry for the HarperCollins–IndiBlogger Get Published contest, which is run with inputs from Yashodhara Lal and HarperCollins India."