Showing posts with label maidan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label maidan. Show all posts

Wednesday, March 16, 2022

A cat has nine lives, I have many more - 1

I am now 78 years old and my first experience with death was in 1960 - I was 16 at the time. It happened in Kolkata. I used to study in St. Xavier’s College in Park Street. After the classes, I would walk down to the British Council library. That was on Theater Road, now renamed as Shakespeare Sarani. I would spent a couple of hours browsing through the magazines. They had a fantastic collection. Then I would get ready to go home. I usually opted for a double decker bus to enjoy the sights of the roads and people from the upper deck.





That particular day, I nearly got killed. It happened like this. The bus slowed down, I boarded it and tried to balance myself on the footboard. It had to negotiate a curve around the Birla Planetarium. While the driver was negotiating the bend, I slipped from the footboard, landed on the road and the bus sped away. The suddenness took everyone by surprise. Fortunately, I fell on the grass belt of the Maidan that absorbed the shock and I lived to tell the tale of my first experience with death.


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Wednesday, September 9, 2015

Bengalis are daydreamers tied to mothers’ apron strings


Believe it or not, it is true that Bengalis are basically daydreamers – they love their addas where they can theorize and tear to pieces all prevalent thoughts and explain how the country can progress but, when it comes to real action, they hide behind the pallu of their mothers and shy away from hard work.
Bengalis are a homesick lot and, tied to the apron strings, never want to leave the shelter and comfort of the home, the locality and the local tea shops. For them, love blossoms in the lanes and by lanes and bear fruit amidst munching of peanuts in the Maidan or idly staring into the muddy waters of the Ganges hoping for a miracle to happen and sigh.
They are not geared up to the philosophy of ‘do not wait for things to happen but make them happen’.
Bengalis love white collar jobs and, since two major railway headquarters of Eastern Railway and South Eastern Railways are located in the city, a majority of Bengali old-timers were employees of the railways. Then there were the banks - a clerical job in any bank meant assurance of a stable life. The money may not be much, but was sufficient. Of course, these were days when computers had not invaded our lives. This new technology spawned a whole new generation of youngsters whose demands were sky high. They earned in dollars and nurtured visions of one day owning one of those pent house flats.
But, Bengal kept losing out on industries and these are necessary to sustain growth – Bengal was known for its jute industries but, with the entry of polythene and plastics, jute bags went out of fashion and the jute mills closed down. There were many other industries and a whole lot of well-known factories and establishments that began to close down due to labor unrest. Names like Bengal Lamps, Hindustan Motors, Dunlop Tyres and Jessops and more recently Tata Motors at Singur, beat a hasty retreat.
And, politicians seized the opportunity to exploit the group of unemployed masses by offering them money in exchange of services, services that included violence and bloodshed to strike terror in the minds of the opponents.
A new order was created and the unemployed realized that education does not pay as does cozying up to the leaders – that is the sure path to prosperity. The leaders created a Frankenstein and, as expected, it has gradually gone out of control. (to be continued …)
(Image courtesy wikimediacommons.org)

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