SATYANESWAN

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