Sipra's Diary: Tiny but mighty

                                   

                                                           Tiny but Mighty

 Of late I am becoming curious to know about those things which were not interesting to me at all. Biology and Botany were most uninteresting to me for their bombastic terms But now I wonder with the engineering skill of ants, white ants, earthworms, spiders mosquitoes, cockroaches etc.

During my stay in India  I was bothered too much by cockroaches, white ants and mosquitoes. I had to keep vigil eye to keep the house get rid of them. The ability of damaging power of white ants which are so small but so  mighty  to do harm which  is not less than an elephant; and so are the ants, and mosquitoes!

 It is surprising but a fact that the Emperor like Alexzander the Great retreated because of this tiny insects, as the mosquito -bite made the regiment of armies sick with malaria fever and too weak to fight more!
The defeat caused by tiny insects like mosquitoes vs the great historical hero..........

What an irony. !!
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Urmila's Letter :: Tadpole or Chameleon

         





The position of journalism in a democracy is almost as powerful as a nuclear bomb; but not so....  for the journalists. Their position is precarious. After all, it is a job, a career for them; they wish to marry and maintain family-like other and not to be martyrs like freedom fighters.
But they need to act like that of a 'virtual hero' with a digital pen which is mightier than the sword' throughout the career- life: double role! A double-coloured balloon pumped with (questionable!) patriotism. In one hand they project themselves as a supporter of social welfare to cajole and coax the public sentiment. Because people are the King-maker in democracy; so the axis of journalists is tilted towards the mass . And Government also holds silent support to the social media to fuel the people's sentiment by criticizing government's act at random so that people,s steam of anger is vaporized by them through the 'rights' to express free opinions. Freedom to criticize the ruling party is a great catharsis for the people to keep the political atmosphere cool down. So media acts as a cooling conductor between the public and the ruling party to protect the government from unwanted rebel and fury of the mass.

 So the status of journalists in a democratic state is to remain either as chameleons or tadpoles in water but near the land; tadpoles look like a school of small fish or baby snake; journalists need to please both: the public and government..Like tadpoles sometimes need to kiss the frog or snake or dive underwater like fish, depending on the situation. They need public support for their sustenance but for the survival?.. They need the favour of the ruling party; they encourage the thief to steal in one hand and warn the householder to be alert on the other hand. But never forget to maintain an under-current connection with the ruling power, the oxygen supplier.
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Sipra's Diary :;Tyranny of good habit.

I wrote  how 'good habits'also sometimes,turns to be a tyrant. I woke up early at dawn, try to do meditation, some free hand exercise, a little  morning walk, an elaborate shower;to use fresh clothes after shower which is quite a luxury here and the problem is that I can not make myself free from this grit of routine.The day I spend the morning on relaxing out of routine, I feel lethargic whole day ; why can't I take a laissez-faire? I saw my grandma spent last 30/35 years just eating sleeping gossiping and enjoying  nursing like regular oil-massage in body and feet ,she passed away at her eighty. But my mother had to remain active as my brother and his wife both were busy doctors. But I have no such compulsion.My mother used to say that engaging in work keeps body and mind fit.My mother-in-law used to say 'work means worth' life is meaningless ,empty without work. Perhaps I am encompassed with all these  sermons tightly.

Now searching 'google' has been my latest bug,  added to that grit of routine. However hectic is my Sunday, if I don't see article of David Remnick from  Sunday 'archives', the day seemed to be on fasting; it is not exactly his article but the 'links' given by him are  very selective and unique.In september, just at the beginning of Fall session the article "School"pulled  the memory of my school life with a jerk!
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"Inocent Divorcee"

During my stay in Mumbai, after trying hard somehow I managed to get a Bengali paper "Sunday Anandabazar Patrika" which contained a matrimonial supplement. My basic purpose was to search for a suitable bride for my son. This paper supplied us with more entertainment than news.  I noticed there the first time, to my surprise, advertisement of matrimonials even for dogs. Sometimes my daughter also joined me for searching her sister-in-law; some ad held 'marriage only in the paper'; while some ads of brides were'innocent divorcee'. She asked me innocently, "mom, what is 'innocent-divorcee'?
   I also noticed it several time but did not ponder upon because I had no interest in divorcee for my fresh bachelor son, though he had no objection. Now we two started researching what can it mean.
I said 'I don't know'; maybe there was no scandalous dirty story behind the divorce;..........................but the word 'divorce' itself is stained in the market of negotiation-marriage. How can it be innocent?
Gazing at the paper amusingly,  we burst out into laughter as the'innocent divorcee' slipped out from our mouth simultaneously!  From that time it became a cliche between us to make fun, whenever anything obscured comes us to be explained. As an excuse, we used to utter', 'see it is 'innocent divorcee'.
In some ad, the qualification of the bride was stated as,
'hah,seh,fah,'. It also remained beyond our comprehension for a long time. Later on, I asked somebody and came to know that it means  'Higher-Secondary-Failed'.
I thought it to be like some special degree.
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I am a little selective in every matter, even selecting very simple items from grocery.
Yesterday I bought a sweet potato, perfect in colour, shape and size, nor crude or muddy as often they are seen. I roasted it in the oven; Before eating as I peeled and cut it into two pieces, I noticed the centre portion is as black as coal and also has a fungus, so I throw it in the trash with an automatic comment, poor "innocent divorcee" and laughed to remember the background story.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

Sipra's Diary: A hectic sunday

Last week I had a hectic sunday.At 9AM choir-music in the church; from 11AM to 1:30 again joining in the choir music and listening devotional speech in the vedanta Math; Finally from 2pm to 4pm inter-generational program of discussion on the topic: Re-imagine the end of life and exploring death.Upto saturday night I had in my mind to carry on all the events. But on Sunday morning,I decided to cancel the first one;because I did not practice any piece of songs and,immediately I felt relaxed as wanton school-boy.
I enjoyed the inter-generational topic about life and death. It raises the very common questions for the elders to ponder:
Would life be better if we could live forever? Is death a taboo?..what scares most about dying? How can we be more comfortable with the topic of death?What is something  that death of some beloved one has taught?
What practical steps we should think in advance so that the way we die can be as unique as the way we live?
Life is beautiful but also unpredictable.Considering and talking about our wishes ahead of time can allow the end of life to be more meaningful and less stressful. Some seniors along with some juniors shared  their personal stories of how much loss they felt by the demise of their closest one. How  is the impact of legacy they left in their minds?

Then the audience were asked to flash some thoughts on the topic.I quoted some comment of my father in-law who was reputed doctor and to deal with death and desease were part of his daily life.whenever somebody became  overwhelmed by the death of closest one,he used to say, "to die is natural but to live is wonder".So one must lead the best use of life. Importance of intergenerational story telling is like recording  tapestry of time and events as document. It is a fact that when an elderly one dies,a LIBRARY is Lost.
Moreover ,we all, good or bad, endowed with    'death-certificate' indiscriminately when we die; Whether in every stages of academic career or in job sphere we achieve 'certificate' as promotional recognition; though certificate means 'document' but as pun it also means 'appraisal'.'Death certificate' is not less important than any other certificate of life time achivement! Perhaps more. Even those who  don't get any certificate during life time,there is hope to get it after life is over.
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Sipra's Diary; Sunrise from Columbus circle, Manhattan.

Yesterday I took my morning walk while it was still half dark though it was 6:40.But while I crossed Time-Warner building, lots of people were coming out of the subway like flocks of busy bees. The owners  of fruits-shop and snack-bar on t he street were  very busy to serve the commuters. I was walking with lazy step but curious eyes.All these racing feet and rushing bodies generate vibration in me;vibration of life! The throb of city-life. It rejuvinates the past when I was  also a part of this phase of life, how crazily ran after golden deer! and now  simply an onlooker.
As usual I stood some moments facing to Central Park, Columbus Circle,CNN building,Duane-Reade ,the pharmacy  which supplies my prescribed  medicine, and at my back side the  marvellous crescent shaped Time Warner building with huge glass door bearing proudly the gorgeous images of branded Ad companies. The street in front of Columbus -Circle runs straight parallel to the central Park towards east and meets the horizon where a beautiful church  stands in the midst,as if, waiting to witness some auspicious event; yes auspicious event!

In summer, day breaks  even before 5:30; I used to wait for the sun to come up.At first the horizon behind the church and  the adjacent sky behind the dark trees of Central park becomes little clear with  fade red halo which becomes little darker that changes into  orange and spreads more space of horizon in each step; finally  turns into  golden yellow melted sheet, too dazzling to look at,  and the sun comes up the roof-top of the church; this play of colours  takes less than five minutes!
In a cloudy day the horizon is deprived of this play of multi-colour steps; it comes up late  with fade yellow sheet ,not from beneathe the horizon but above high in the sky, piercing the roaming cloud ! I always turn back for home before the sky turns  dazzling yellow. Coming near my apartment in the west, I greet the view of river Hudson......
But yesterday I didnt wait to greet the sun; I came back early as it was cold and windy.
At 11AM I switched on  TV and came to know about
the  explosive package of bomb by mail .Couple of hours ago the place which was vibrating with the throb of life is now thumping with fear and terror not only in the New york city but  it bangs everywhere,in every heart of the country.
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Sipra's Diary :Immerson Day Of DURGA -PUJA : [Fragment of Memoir]

The biggest festival of Bengal, 'Durga Puja' ended, leaving a feeling of nostalgia like every time. So many years passed by, still, the mind goes back to the childhood of Giridih, small but very much commercially rich mining town. Though I was not aware of it at that time. what I remember  was: five new clothes for five days,new shoes,new ribbon;...to pluck flowers at early morning  with friends for the neighbourhood puja;... taking bath at early morning ,doing small works in the pandal like making garland, distributing flowers to the devotees,giving 'Anjali';beat of dhak accompanied with 'kasar-ghanta',.. taking 'prasad 'repeatedly in the queue until being caught  and chased mockingly, by someone; then freedom to stay outside in the pandal for long hours! The puja pandal was just opposite to our house. Then three-four hours break at lunchtime, waiting impatiently for the evening to go again in the pandel, wearing a new dress for more fun. In the evening during Aarati time, all ladies used to throng in the pandal; the whole atmosphere seemed to be celestial with the smell of dhup-dhuna, beat of dhak and kasarghanta at least 30 to 40 minutes continuously. At the end of 'arati', we pushed each other to keep our palms over the 'panchpradip'(=divine lamp) for the blessing of the goddess and then touched on own head; and there was also a competition to keep palms over the lamps repeatedly;...as if, who can gather more blessings than the other. During Aarati I used to look my mother's face turning my neck; she looked so beautiful with bright vermillion red 'Bindi'on the forehead between two eyebrows and new sari. It was my great pleasure to see my mom enjoying any festival, away from the kitchen and home.
I passed different phases in the long passage of life as a wife, as a mother, a daughter-in-law; But all festivals drag me to the memory of childhood, parents, friends.
I feel my parent always stay with me like a shadow! Perhaps, I think, this is because my ID as 'daughter' is most strong in me.

There are no puja festivals in mid-Manhattan. But who bothers! 

I am fine with the trove of my memory treasure ....Every morning after taking shower I switched on dhak beat, chanting mantras in 'youtube' from the day of 'Bodhan'(starting-day) to the last day of 'Bisarjan'(Immersion) in full volume to create festival environment in the lonely apartment; Looking at the immersion of the image on screen, I felt the similar  childhood nostalgia,-- in Manhattan!

After the immersion, we used to come back in the empty pandal with missing hearts to get 'shantijal' which the priest sprinkled over our head' for peace and blessing of the goddess. The vacant alter without the image in deserted pandal stood only to spread over gloomy air of hollowness.......
The image of clay melted in water after the immersion long ago; but not my memory; it still lingers.........