SATYANESWAN

The sensitive and emotional Bengalis do not think that the word “Brother –in-law “does enough justice to the designation. A brother-in-law in English tends to be a brother but never equals him. Rather remains always a lesser being. Poor English! How can they estimate that too often a brother-in-law comes out to be more than your own brother? Especially in Bengali middle class household he may even attain a father like status on occasion. In Bengali literature and films the position of “Jamaibabu” is adorable-yet-respectable one. I am not sure whether you saw the film “Chupke Chupke” which was a popular Hindi version of Bengali film “Chadmabeshi”. If so, you may remember Late Bikash Roy or Omprakash doing the pivotal role. For me, my Jamaibabu remained always a special person, .Hence I never dared to mention my beloved Jamaibabu as brother-in law. I never needed to. I can fairly remember the day we first met. It was May 25, 1956; Jamaibabu got married to our Didi. Hindu marriage in itse

Sharu Rangnekar, the noted management guru and author of “In the wonderland of Indian Managers” have very few strips of hairs on his skull. While questioned about his early baldness in an informal get together he described a theory on “Hair Falling” in his defence. The theory went like this. Among male human beings, hair grows downwards after one crosses the age of forty. On its path of growth while a strip of hair confronts a bit of gray matter it gladly turns gray .While it finds nothing it falls off. For Sharu the latter was the case. I was present on this fateful party and believed every bit of what Sharu said. After all, Sharu just can not be distrusted. Afterwards when a bunch of my gray hairs was discovered by my better half in her utter dismay, I was perturbed to the least. Rather I felt jubilant. At last, the God has disproved what my elders, my teachers, my bosses and ultimately my wife at home opined about the status of the availability of gray matter in my brain. The Man pr

Just a few days back, some TV channel telecasting Gumnaam, the sensational bolywood thriller of sixties. While I was eager to continue viewing the others of the family present in the lounge preferred to switch on to their favored serial. Perhaps, you are smiling Lattu da as you only know what prompted me to see much viewed Gumnaam once again. You are on the dot; it was not film but the memories which came along with. It was some middle of the week .I came back from my 2nd year classes to my Hostel Number 10 at BE College campus and chatting with mates. We just heard some one shouting calling some one. One confirmed it was me who had a visitor. Though surprised as I was not supposed to get one I came down to find you standing Lattu da between the two adjacent hostels. You were in absolute hurry and told me to accompany immediately to “Shyamali, a cinema hall far away at Santragachi which was an obscure village and around an hour’s journey from our place. Why so far? Your excuse was simp

Did I ever aspire to be literate? I do not remember. However, I can remember a scene of my early age where Kutu da, an elderly cousin, had been performing the domestic Saraswati Puja in our Kalighat house and I was taken to him while he guided me to write my first alphabet. The ritual known as Hate Khari means holding the piece of chalk (Khari) by hand (Hate). It is a sort of permission given to a kid to initiate study. Kutu da , being a brilliant student of Sanskrit poetry and grammar , Kabya Byakaranthirtha , was one of the best available person to give the permission and guidance. But the kid in question never was eager to seek the permission. From then onwards, my didi ,the elder sister ,took the lead. She took it as a moral duty and made me sit with a piece of slate and chalk pencil. I had to religiously observe the scripts as depicted in the Adarshalipi , one of the first books in Bengali, and copy them to the satisfaction of didi. Writing was not that difficult but satisfying di

Ravi Kant Sharma, ex-senior IPS pfficer, who masterminded the gruesome murder of Shivani Bhatnagar,a journalist of Indian Express some nine years back was the principal accused in the case. Yesterday's daily carried the news that he has been awarded life term by the Honourable Justice Shastri. Upto this there was no problem.But whenever portion of the language of the judgement comes in view one gets utterly confused. The Judge while justifying awarding life term in lieu of death penalty to the perpetrator of this heinious criminal offence commented that excepting this act of masterminding the murder, Sharma contributed much to the nation through his service as a cop.He termed Sharma as an "asset to the Nation." Any murderer irrespective of his prior position in the social hierarchy needs to be considered just as another criminal while his offence is duly proved in the court of law. He is not supposed to be unduly praised for his services as cop which he extended for his l

While you grow up in a multimember middle class bengali family among umpteen number of relatives you as a child seldom assess the exact relations.Distant cousins often come closer than your own brothers and sisters depending on the situation. I was born in a remote town named Basirhat now falls under the District of North 24 parganas in West Bengal. As I came to know Bina di, a cousin,happened to stay with the family at that time. My mother used to remain very busy with the domestic chores of the big family and hardly find enough time for the ne born.Bina di, on her own, filled the gap. She was a girl of fifteen then.I happened to be always in her lap and preferred to remain so. Subsequently, my father got transfered to Kolkata while I was barely 6 months old and Bina di went back to Pabna in erswhile East Bengal,now called Bangladesh.We came to Kalighat,grew up and started going to school. Bina di came once more to our house. She was with our family for around a year this time .This t

Just thought to initiate the blog to-day.