Shankha Sharodiya 2010 - Internet...Shankha: Puja: 2010 ShrvIzh: 1417 3 Board of Directors Chairman Ashis Sengupta Treasurer Nilanjana Roy General Secretary Prasenjit Senupta Rana

Shankha: Puja: 2010 ShrvIzh: 1417____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


1

Autumn ShrvIz2010 Shankha 1417

Chib==Sym bA_ - p{fjh s}K]hTwenty-sixth Year – Puja Issue

s{cIpá / Contents

2 s$phvkIz2 Audit (Story) - Vivek Agarwal

3 Chairman Message - Ashis Sengupta

4 mhYhr iByfr…fse fbhV (p/bnß) - aimyhB bs[12 The Fire and Fireside… (Reflection) - Maya Mitra Das

14 Eternity in an Hour… (Spiritual) - Ivana Banerjee

18 Welcome to America… (An Experience) - Subhalaxmi Majumdar

21 bhrhk obhmh (1961-) (kibyh) - aXkÑr shHh22 uärs{rI (kibyh) - fkzh mj[mvhr22 Happy to be Home Alone (Poem) - Dipanita Pal Majumdar

23 p{fjhr CRh (kibyh) - ik¶l BûhchZ_23 frhñv[fr rx flfgfC (kibyh) - nIlhiv/ fGhA

NexGen

24 It’s Hard…A Middle-Schooler (Essay) - Bianca De28 Times That Pass (Story) - Tuhin Chakraborty28 Window-Sniffing (Story) - Tuhin Chakraborty29 Theft (Story) - Aditya Guha30 Spring (Poem) - Bianca De30 Repentence (Poem) - Aditya Guha30 Censorship (Poem) - Trisha Mita Sen31 Pencil Can make A Difference (Humanitarian) - Tiara Bhatacharya31 The Lion and The Lamb (Poem) - Piyali Banerjee32 Children’s Art - Piyali, Poulomi, Oeishi,

Sanmitra, Shristi, Tria


2

s$phvkIzs$phvkIz ilKfy bfs mfn Hl smz wb} pirfbfSr p/giyfy ahmhr afnk pirby_n HfzfC. ZKn uplibßkrlhm, yKn iPfr Zhozhr pY bnß. afnk khrf>. afnk pirby_n HfzfC - ikC[ afghcfr, ikC[ sfghcfr, wb}ikC[ fs=êChz. bvfl igfz kKn fZ bhm fYfk dhefn fHfl pfRiC, yh b[Jbhr PÑrsQ phein. p[fbr nIiyfbhVbvfl pi^cfmr nIiyfbhfV pirp[&t Hfz cfliC. anhR$br jIbfnr shrl] ibsj_n ivfz jitl jIbnfk shvfr g/H>kfriC. inrhBr> fsù@vfZ_r bvfl ahBr>fk Vhr> kfriC. fbhVSi|r bvfl aY_-iBiäk m{l]fbhfV vIiqy HfziC.afY_r uähfp uäè Hfz yhre ahbfy_ G[fr cfliC. a-aY_ShlIfk abôh krfy iv=Vh fbhV krhr Si| HhirfziC.infjfk afn]r fYfk s=yÖ kfr fvKfy wb} rhKfy iSfKiC. aY_ ivfz fknh s=hyÖ] vhbI krfy ChiR nh. yhfys=Ikéiy, smhvr, o ibfSA-ibfSA s[fZhg s[ibfV fmfl.ahmhr my flhfkro Hzy smhfj vrkhr ahfC. yhe p[frh uv]fm jIbn upfBhg kfr cfliC. – s[nIl fGhA

AuditVivek Agarwal

(Kolkata)

Do you know "what is audit?”

Once upon a time there was a shepherd lookingafter his sheep on the side of a deserted road.Suddenly a brand new Porsche screeches to ahalt. The driver, a man dressed in an Armanisuit, Cerutti shoes, Ray-Ban sunglasses, TAG-Heuer wrist-watch, and a Pierre Cardin tie, getsout and asks the shepherd, if I can tell you howmany sheep you have, will you give me one ofthem? The shepherd looks at the young man,then looks at the large flock of grazing sheepand replies, okay.

The young man parks the car, connects hislaptop to the mobile-fax, enters a NASAWebsite, scans the ground using his GPS, opensa database and 60 Excel tables filled withalgorithms and pivot tables. He then prints out a150-page report on his high-tech mini-printer,

turns to the shepherd and says, You have exactly1,586 sheep. The shepherd cheers, that's correct,you can have your sheep.

The young man takes one of the animals fromthe flock and puts it in the back of his Porsche.

The shepherd looks at him and asks, If I guessyour profession, will you return my animal tome? The young man answers, Yes, why not?

The shepherd says, you are an auditor.

How did you know? asks the young man.

Very simple, answers the shepherd. First, youcame here without being wanted. Secondly, youcharged me a fee to tell me something I alreadyknow. Thirdly, you don't understand anythingabout my business....Now can I have my dogback?


3

Board of Directors

ChairmanAshis Sengupta

TreasurerNilanjana Roy

General SecretaryPrasenjit Senupta

Rana BoseAnjaly BanerjeeJyotirmoy (Tuku) GangulySudip DasDalia SenIndra ChatterjeeDipanwita MondalArindam Samanta

Internet CoordinatorAnupam Bagchi

Shankha EditorSunil Ghose

PrintingOfficePro BusinessSolutions3414 El Camino Real.Santa Clara, CA 95051Phone: 1.408.219.8487Fax: 1.408.246.8006Email:[email protected]

Chairman’s Address

Friends:

On this auspicious day, we all gather together to welcomeour Debi Durga with our prayers, blowing the conch and beatingthe drums. Our entire community waits for this day withearnestness, and our hearts are filled with sheer joy and a sense ofmerriment.

We all gather together under the banner of Prabasi with aspirit of oneness with offerings of flowers, our puja and anjali.

Like every year to make our efforts a beautiful experience, wehave arranged many events. During the day time, variety ofbooths will have food, clothing items, jewelry, books, CD &DVDs for you to look around and have your best buys. Lateafternoons and evenings will be packed with artists who willentertain you with their powerful performances.

Our Prabasi board members and volunteers have workedrelentlessly to make this Durga Puja Utsav a successful event forour community. Away from our homeland, we have tried our bestto observe our traditional rituals and practices not only for us butfor our children for inspiration.

Besides Durga Puja, Prabasi will also celebrate Kali Puja,Saraswati Puja, and annual day during the course of our yearlyactivities. Prabasi will be celebrating Rabindranath Tagore’s 150th

Birthday, as part of the annual day celebration, joining hands withother Bay Area organizations.

I take this opportunity to welcome and thank our newmembers, and my heartfelt thanks to our existing members fortheir continuous support. My sincere gratitude to our sponsors anddonors for their support. Without their support, we would nothave been able to present all these festivities.

I wish you all the best.

Sincerely,

Ashis Sengupta


4

mhYhr iByfr ….. fse fbhVaimyhB bs[

(bXg sf$mlfnr jFnk Standard fS/hyh)

~s[kÑmhr rhfzr ‘ahfbhl yhfbhl’ Zh~rh pfRfCn,yh~fvr in^cz mfn ahfC fse kibyhth –

‘frhfv rhxh e~ftr ph~jh yhr upfr bsflh rhjh –

fThxh-Brh bhvhm-Bhjh KhfêC ikëÑ iglffC nh.’

rhjhmShfzr Hhl ÷mS: sxIn, ‘mgfjfy nhcfC G[fr

r|åflh Jnr\Jn\’, wk añBÑy p/fSNr uäfrr fKh~fj

iyin aiÆr …

‘flKh ahfC p[~iYr phfy, ‘fnRh Zhz fblylhfy’ –

nhiH fkhn s@v yhfy, ikëÑ p/SN ‘k’bhr Zhz?’fnRhr Hhl-HikkQ ahmhr jhnh fne. kIfsr fp/r>hz bhfkhn\ v[rhShz p/y]hs» p/mhfvr ahSXkh mhYhz infzakÑÆfl yhr fpùn:p[ink p/y]hby_n, yhr fp/hb]hibili*tk\s}K]hyyüo ahmhr ajhnh. yfb, ahim âV[ wetÑkÑ jhin,jIbfnr nhnh pfb_ w-p/bhfs b}g sf$mlfnr ahixnhzHhijr Hl[m we infz chr-chr bhr!

p/Ym bhr PàImf@t 1987-fy – Hhfy åf> fsthiCl sèm b}g sf$mln. blh Zhz yh p/bhsIr jIbfnrp/hYimk pfb_, ikfShr fblhz. fsbhr sy]vh, mhfn S/fvßzS/Isy] rhfzr sHkhrI iHfsfb ZQikiöQ Bçimkho iClahmhr. kh>hG[fAhz âfniC – wr ahfg abiV b]hphrth

inuezk_-inujhis_ aöfle sImhbvß Yhky – aôhyfkhno wk fk@v/hiyg bfl (centrifugal force) fsbhr kI-kfr iCt\fk wfs pfRfC fvfSr wfkbhfr pi^cmp/hfë,shnPàhn\iss\fkh fb-wirzhz. yfb, b]hphrthr opr fZinuezfk_r b}gs}Æhr S|-m[iT mhilkhnh-fbhV ahfC (fZ-m[iT ahlgh Hzin wyhbQ) – fs kYh yKn b[iJin; w-sb ibAfz ahim icrivne infb_hV. fs-ZhfHhk\, iv=yIz-pfb_Hhijr iClhm 1993-wr sf$mlfn, ls\ wf¶l\fsr khfCahB_hefn. fs-aiBôyhr ibïhiry b>_nh ahfC fs-bCfrrShrvIzh ‘SfXK’r phyhz (“b}gsf$mln: s=%p fvKh,

a%p kYh”), fZKhfn ilfKiCl[m – ‘…wkivfkbhxhlI-s}ƒéiyr *mg_hs\fbhd_ - an]ivfk plLbg/hHI ahrb[BÑqÑ we-ahim – b]hphrth jfmiCl Bhflh. iynivn Vfrinib_chfr TÑkfr fbiRfziC w-mö fYfk o-mfö; Zh ZKnfpfziC, fchKkhn ivfz igfliC. phShphiS vrjh, yb[mhkÑr my G[rfy-G[rfy frhgh Hfz fglhm. fSfAr v[fthivn fkhno fp/hg/hm p[frhth fvKh Hl nh – phfC phfSrGfrrth ims\ Hfz Zhz, fse v[B_hbnhz! Pfl, fchfK-fvfKp/h> Brhfy phirin – fcfK-fvfK p/h>p> s]h$pil}kfriC âV[; w-fvKhz fkhn an[&Thfnr s[ibchr Hz nh,siTk b>_nho Hz v[ræH – fs-fc&tho yhe krb nh.’

yéyIz-vPhz Hhijr iCl[m Unib}S sf$mlfn,


5

Gfrr khfCr s]h@thkÇhrh SHfr 1999-w, aY_hQ gySyh+vIr fSA af+v. yyivfn w-sf$mln sm=fnß sm]kVhr>h HfzfC – s}ƒ éiyr w-shk_hfs fkhYhz kKn mhYh

glhfbh yhr wkth Ck\ frfKiC mfn-mfn, ahfg-Bhfge –ahr fse s}fg m[PQ wk\shrshejtho mhinfz infziCHhfy-phfz; yfb fmfn inflo mfn ine-in.

fSAfmA webhr, cyÑY_-vPhz uniáSym sf$mlns]hn\-fHhfsfy – km_ky_hfvr wb} fs=êChfsbkfvr kl]hf>b]bÆh iCl Bhflhe, ahr ahmhr abÆho mhkÑ-bQ-yFYbc!aY_hQ, ‘fse tà]hidSn smhfn cflfC.’

wbhfrr bXg sf$mlfnr iv=yIz ivfn, p/Vhn mföghfnr sfXg jgJ$p bhjnhr sHfZhigyh ZKn ghnfkfghlmhfl pir>y kfr khfnr opr ay]hchfrr up÷mkfriCl, yKn yhr fYfk philfz b~hcfy inrºphz HfzmhYh gilfziCl[m afnk v{frr wkth Gfr, wk ahflhcnhrahsfr. ibAz: ‘klm fYfk k]hfmrh’. jhin aniVkhrcc_h, yb[ âV[mhá fkùyÑHltÑkÑ s$bl kfr phfz-phfzfp~ùfCiC ZKn fsKhfn, ahflhcnh ârº Hfz fgfC,ôhnIå>Ijfnr pirczvhfnr phlho fgfC cÑfk. icnlhmshiHiy]k S/Is[nIl ghXg[lIfk, an]rh iCfln icápirchlkS/Ifgùym fGhA, shiHiy]k S/IsmfrS mj[mvhr, shiHiy]kwb} icápirchlk S/IH[mhz[n ahfmv. fchKkhn fKhlh frfKsëp_f> mhj_hr-BXgIfy vrjh ivfz DÑfk, b[fJ infy smzlhgl nh fZ bshr jhzgh fne. ibiBnN b|hr b|b] mnivfz fShnhr P~hfk khfn wl, ahjfkr ivfnr K]hiymhnicápirchlk S/Ifgùym fGhfAr mëb] – rbI@v/nhfYrupn]hs infz isfnmh krh kiTn, khjth Bhl Hz nh;br} y~hr fChtg%p infz krh afnk sHj. mëb]thaqfr-aqfr mfn fne, yfb shrmm_ we. kYhth mfnrhKlhm fSA pZ_ë. yhr pfr p/fSNhäfrr abkhfS ahmhrp/SN rhKlhm o~r khfC – ‘yhHfl ik ‘fchfKr bhil’,‘Gfr bhefr’, ey]hiv isfnmh Bhl bh iSf%phäI>_ Hzin?’fgùymbhb[ blfln – ‘nh, ahmhr mfy Hzin.’ ahro

blfln – ‘cyÑrXg’ (s$p/iy m[i|p/hè) isfnmhr

pirchlk o~r khfC myhmy fcfziCfln, uin y~hfko yhebflfCn. uär fpfz Vn]bhv jhnhlhm – ikëÑ mn Brl

nh. rfz fgl afnk an[êchiry p/SN – ahr fkhfnhs[fZhfg o~r sfXg ibïhiry ahlhfpr efêC. ikëÑahflhcnh-sBhr iniv_&t smz-sImhz yhr s$Bhbnh fne.yhr pfro b]ïyhr jfn] fs-s[fZhg imll nh kKne.yKin Bhbl[m – w-Vrf>r an[êchiry p/SN wb}

kh%pink kfYhpkYn – Zh ÷mhgy inurf>r vhphvhiprsfXg yhl frfK mhYhr mfV] s<i&t kfr cflfC Z[i|-yk_ahr fbhfVr jhl, yhfvr nhHz klfmr dghz upÆhpnkrh Zhfb skflr shqhfy. fse s[bhfve we flKhrabyhr>h.

ZhfHhk\, fgùymbhb[r uäfrr fjr ftfn ahmhrp/iy-p/SNth iCl – rbI@v/nhfYr upn]hs infz Bhflh Cib

FyrI – Hfy phfr kiTn y~hr mfy, ikëÑ fsth ik

pirchlfkre vhizyü nz? y~hfvr khj fZ sbsmz ‘sHj’Hfb, fs-p/iyS/ºiy Hhfy infz in^cze y~hrh khfj nhfmnnh. b]hphrth Ziv c]hfli¶} Hz, fs-c]hflf¶r fmhkhiblhkrhe pirchlfkr ÷mibkhfS, y~hr iS%pIsähfk wigfzfZfy shHhZ] kfr – c]hfl¶ wiRfz Zhozhth ahmhr mfy

khp[rºAyhre nhmhër! ‘klm’ bh shiHfy]r khfC o~fvró> *bIkhr krfye Hfb icápirchlk iHfsfb. shiHy](bh g$p-upn]hs) FyrI Hfze rfzfC, yhfvr icáhizykrhr vhizyü pirchlfkr, fs-vhizyü phlfn y~hfk upZ[|k%pnhr pircz ivfy Hfb. icápirchlfkr Hhfy rfzfCpZ_hè Hhiyzhr – vS_kmfn ÆhzI ahfbvn s<i&t krhrpfq cliêcá aido-iBs[zhl mhV]m-iHfsfb ay]ëSi|ShlI bfle s=Ikéy. g%pinb_hcfnr vhizyü wb} s=hVInyhv[e-e rfzfC pirchlfkr – fse inb_hcfnr m[H{fy_eKiyfz fvKfbn khjth y~hr rºic wb} qmyhr nhghflrmfV] iknh. wr mhfJ wfs Zhz shhiHfy]r bhjhrvr b[fJCib krhr p/b>yh, fvhHhe ivfy Hz vS_fkr sIimyfbhVSi|r. kmhis_zhl s=hfY_r p/iy m{l lq] frfK CibFyrI Hfl aht_ mhr Khfb pfv pfv, Pfl fsth Hfb


6

inké&t aht_. w-s$bfnß pirchlk Hzy inræphz – yfbahimo nhchr ahft_r fqfá kf$p/hmhej\ krfy.

fgùymbhb[ blfln – rbI@v/nhfYr upn]hfs

b>_nhm{lk o mnïhiyük uphvhn K[b fbSI. shVhr>y:en\ftàhf*pk\itB\ - Cibfy Zh fvKhfnh S|. pfr uinblfln – Vrºn flKk b>_nh ivfêCn: wkivn gf%prnhzk aiPfs km_ry. khgfjr phyhz inib&t y~hr mn.wmn-smfz aiPsGfrr fKhlh jhn\lh ivfz bhefr fYfkHThQ-Hhozhz fcnh PÑflr gnß wfs u@mnh kfr ivly~.fk. fgùymbhb[ fkùyÑfkr Cfl blfln – wth fvKhfyyKn Ziv nhzkfk nhk k~Ñcfk bh ftfn gnß-fS~hkhr BXgIfvKhfy Hz, fsth kI iS%ps$my Hfb? in^cze Hfb nh– b]hphrth Hfb Hhs]kr, s=Ikhr krfln sbhe. w-s$bfnß

ahflhcnh ahr nh bhiRfz ahim blb – fsth siTk wb}iS%ps$myBhfb fvKhfnho wkhëBhfb pirchlfkrqmyhinB_r. fgùymbhb[r syyhfk wKfn shV[bhv jhnhe –infjr qmyhr sImh jhfnn bfle rbI@v/nhfYr upn]hfsricáhzf> uin ainêC[k; uin jhfnn, infj nh phrfl fs-khj anhgy bh an]-khfrh jfn] fCfR fvozhe iSf%prKhiyfr mXgl.

flKk iHfsfb, aY_hQ ‘klfmr’ p/iyiniV-s=ræp

s[nIlbhb[ y~hr aiBôyh jhnhfln ‘arf>]r ivnrhiá’g%pitr icáhz> (sy]ijQ rhfzr-krh Cib) s$pfk_. Cibrp/fzhjfn y~hr gf%pr pirby_n iyin fmfn infy phfrnin, Zivo s=Ikhr krfln – ‘isfnmh iHshfb fsit

HfziCl cmQkhr – ikëÑ ahmhr befzr fYfk afnkth

ahlhvh.’ ibS=ïs{fá jhin – wthe inzm – icás=yü fZ

m[H{fy_ flKk ib÷I kfr fvn – yhrpr fYfk y~hr flKhricáhzf> ahr fkhfnh Hhy Yhfk nh y~hr; pC@v nh Hfloinrºphz, åmfr mrh ChRh.

iS%p-pirfbSfnr fqfá shiHy] ahr cliêcá –w-v[it s$p{>_ ahlhvh mhV]m. klfmr khj fSA Hflk]hfmrhr khj ârº. befzr phyh fYfk fsl[lfzfdr b[fk

ufT ahshr mhfJ rfzfC wk årºyüp{>_ fshphn bh fsyÑbnß– fsth HfêC icánht] FyrI. fstho afnkh}fSpirchlfkr Hhfy, s=Hfï fsth nh krflo b]hphrth y~hrevhizyü. kYhth ikCÑ nyÑn nz – iyino jhfnn. khfje

rbI@v/nhfYr upn]hs infz cliêcá krh Zhfb nh –b]hphrth iTk fmfn infy phriC nh. sHj bh kiTn Hfbkhjth – fsth s}iSL&t b]i|fvr qmyhr aiBb]i| bh

aqmyhr fvhHhe. s<i&tr yhigv ahfs p]hShn fYfk – fZp]hShn c]hflf¶r fyhzhòh kfr nh, icrkhl sb s<i&trfqfáe yh HfzfC, Hfb. ahft_r fqfá wigfz Zhbhr pfYw-Vrf>r anIHh yhe khm] nz – Good fYfk Great Hbhrfshphn we c]hflf¶r fmhkhiblh. uvIzmhn pirchlkfvrkhfC wtI Hfb shVhr> Standard vS_fkr vhbI – yhrm[K fcfz Yhkfb BibA]Q.

iv=yIzpfb_r ahflhcnh-sBhr upjIb] bh}lhisfnmhz ahiY_k p/fzhjn. b|hrh (aiVkh}Se bh}lh icá-pirchlk) fse mfm_ fpS krfln y~hfvr b|b]. p/iyi&TyHl fZ sy]it yh’ Hl we: kfzk vSk ahfg bh}lhisfnmhr nhiBS=hs ufTiCl, mhfnr ivk ivfzo fvuilzhHfz ZhiêCl – yb[ fs fZ itf~k ahfC, fsth imr]hk\l\.âV[ yhe nz, fs-Fvn]vSh khitfz fs ahghmI ivfno âV[fZ itf~k Yhkfb yh-e nz, ÷fmhnNiyr pfY wigfz Zhfb,we o~fvr smfby SpY. yfb yhr jfn] p/fzhjn afY_r.fvfS-ibfvfS y~hfvr Cib p/vS_fnr b]bÆh kfr aY_s}g/fHrb]hphfr shHhfZ]r ahij_ infz wfsfCn o~rh. wkhiVk b|hwkYho blfln – wKhfn ahmhfvr khfC Hhy phyfyahfsn in o~rh. ahiY_k v[rbÆh sfäüo u~cÑmhfnr Cib FyrIwb} afnk p/iykçlyhr mfV]o fs-Cibr iS%pgyshPfl]r iBiäfy atÑt ahyMibS=hfsr pircz rhKflnwkhiVk yrº> pirchlk. yfb o~rh s=Ikhr krfln, iH@vICibr my bh}lh cliêcfár fkhn ‘gI%d’ bh sXGbvß s}ÆhwKno gfR ofT in, Zhr shHhfZ] bh}lh Cibr p/vS_nfvfSr an] p/fvfS ik}bh ibfvfS (ahëj_hiyk vS_kmHflwb} p/bhsIfvr khfC) s[&TÑBhfb s$Bb Hz. shHhfZ]r


7

p/fzhjnIzyh uflLK kfr o~rh blfln – ‘wKhfn fyhwe-ahpnhrh afnfke fkh$phnIr CEO, COO, ey]hiv,ahiY_k wb} sh}gTink ivk fYfk s[fZhg-s[ibVhr aBhbfne, ahpnhrh in^cze wKhnkhr ibiBnN Hfl inzimybh}lh Cib p/vS_fnr b]bÆh kfr aY_-shHhZ] yYh p/chfrrahfzhjn krfy phfrn.’

ahflhcnh clhr mfV]e ahH=hzk wb} kfzkjnb|h infK~hj Hfln fbS ikC[qf>r jfn] – ibfSAp/fzhjfne in^cz; kfzkjn ahr iPrflno nh akÑÆfl.smz-s}fqp wb} a-b]bÆhz b|h o fS/hyhr ahvhn-p/vhfnr s[fZhg wminfye iCl sIimy. HThQ wksmfzahH=hzk iPfr wfs HhyGiR fvfK blfln – ‘ahrwkitmhá p/SN fnozh Hfb. smz fne ahr …..’ yb[yhre mfV] fS/hyhfvr yrP fYfk v[it m{l]bhn (ahmhrkhfC aëy!) p/ïhb fvozh Hl. ÆhnIz wkjn blfln –wKhnkhr ibiBnN TV-c]hfnfl ‘Pay-Per-View’-wr b]bÆhahfC, fZKhfn vS_krh afY_r ibinmfz ibiBnN cliêcáiniv_&t c]hfnfl fvKhr s[fZhg phn. Ziv bh}lh Cib fseyhilkhBÑ| krh Zhz, yfb fseBhfb aY_-s}Æhn Hozhs$Bb. wr pfr ozhiS}tn (id-is) fYfk ahgy wkBv/flhk blfln, i*mYfshinzhn\ en\s\ittÑ]t-w inzimyibfvSI Cib p/vS_fnr b]bÆh ahfC – fsKhfn vS_kfvrahg/fHro aBhb fne, l$bh lhen pfR aiVkh}S smfz.fseBhfb uin kfzkit bh}lh be (m[K]y sy]ijQ rhfzr)upfBhg kfrfCn. Ziv yhfvr sfXg fZhghfZhg krh Zhz,yfb nyÑn Bhflh bh}lh Cib fsBhfbo ahëj_hiyk vS_kfvrkhfC fp~ùfC fvozh s$Bb – lhBbhn Hfbn uBzpqe.

fS/hyh iHfsfb ahmhr ah^cZ_ lhgl – v[itp/ïhfbr p/iy b|hfvr uQshfHr aBhb wb} anIHh fvfK;p/ïhbåil g/H> krh v{fr Yhk\, yhfy v[’Git Th@dh jlfDfl ivfz o~fvr vhizyü wiRfz fgfln. p/Ym p/ïhbitfyahpiär khr>-iHfsfb b|h Zh blfln, fsth fbhVgm] Hlnh, mfn Hl p/ïhbitr mm_ uin sm]k fbhfJn in,ct\jl\iv vhzshrh mëb] krfln mhá. iv=yIzitr s$bfnß

blh Hl – ‘ofyh PàI-fy fvKhfnh HfêC, yhfy thkh

uTfb kIBhfb’ … aY_hQ s$Bhb] p/chfrr ivkthwfkbhfre ag/hH] Hl fs-mëfb]. b[Jlhm, Hhy phyfyHzy ahfsn in o~rh, ikëÑ bhRhfnh Hhy Vrfyo kIah^cZ_ anIHh! p/bhsI-smhj s$bfnß o~fvr aiBôyhraBhb fbhJh fgl, ahmhfvr mfV] afnfke CEO, COO,

ey]hiv Thorhfnhfy. ahmhr efêC HiêCl, wk-s[fZhfgfS/hyhfvr mfV] fGhA>h krfy – ‘ahpnhfvr mfV]

fkh$phnIr CEO, COO, Z~hrh, pLIj\ Hhy yÑl[n,’ ahimjhin, kjfnr ufähily Hhy fvKfy fpyhm yhHfl!ahsfl, wKhnkhr bhxhlIsmhjfk fbhJhr p/fzhjnth K[bjrºrI. âV[ BhAhth bh}lh bfle ahV[ink bh}lh isfnmhrvS_k Hfy wKhfn k’jn (bh k-phfs_@t) uQshiHy Hfbn,ahfg yh b[Jfy Hfb Bhl kfr.

fZ fkhfnh ahft_e fkhzhilitr fkhn ibk%p fne.mfn ahfC, fvSChRhr pr fYfk nb=e-wr vSfkr p/Ymivk pZ_ë, fvfS igfz bh}lh isfnmh fvKfy fZyhm nh,fK~hjo rhKyhm nh – p/cÑr bh}lh iYfzthr fvKyhm yhrbvfl; bh}lh isfnmhr shib_k inmNmhn iCl yhr jn] vhzI.ahShr kYh – m[m[A_[ bh}lh isfnmh fse-abÆh fYfk ufTwfsfC Hhl-ahmfl. yhrjn] ahjfkr pirchlkfvr afnkaiBn@vn p/hp]. ikëÑ fZ fkhfnh p/fjk\ftr fqfá âV[uñBhbn wb} s<i&te ZfY&t nz, yhr mhfk_it}-shed\thofZ BIA> jrºrI – bh}lhCibr ahjfkr eiyHhs yh nyÑn

kfr p/mh> krfC. ‘ahmrh Bhflh be FyrI kriC, wbhrahpnhrh mhfk_it}-th kfr ivn, Zhfy bhjhfr khft, lqMIahfsn Gfr’ – ahy±ibS=hsI pirchlkfvr w-ahfbvnahjfkr ivfnr p/iyfZhigyhr bhjhfr ZfY&t nz; pirchlky~hr khj s[&TÑBhfb fSA krflo yhrpfr s=Bhbye ahfsp/fZhjk o pirfbSfkr vhizfyür kYh – ufv]hgIvS_kshVhr> fs-Bhr fnn nh, blhe bhH[l]. ahr w-b]hphfr gI%d-wr aiïyü ibfSABhfb p/fzhjnIz –p/hiy&ThinkBhfb ÆhzI b]bÆhr jn]. afn]r Hhfy mhfk_it}-wr Bhr fCfR ivfl p/iyS/ºiy-Brh yrIr BrhdÑib Hbhr


8

s$Bhbnh – fse ‘an]’ Zy p/Bhb-p/iypiäShlIyYhkiYy “CEO bh COO” Hn nh fkn, w-khfj aY_bflrfcfz en\thfr&t, p]hShn wb} qmyh khj kfr fbSI.

eflk\tàinÉ-mhV]fmr kl]hf> Pirated DVD-r kYhuTl – skfle s=Ikhr krfln fsth s[nIiyibrºvß wb}isfnmhiSf%pr pfq qiykr. yfb mfn p/SN uTl, o~rhfZ-sb Cibr kYh blfCn – yhfvr DVD ik phefrftd\HfzfC wKno? fknnh, Cib ahfg jnip/z Hfb, yhrprfyh phefrisr p/SN! jnip/z Hfy mhfk_it} lhfg –aywb we fqfáo fse Catch-22!

kYhz kYhz yéyIz ibfS=r bh ibfvSI Cib-iHfsfbfmiÉfkhr Cibr kYh ufTiCl, fsesfXg ufTiCl J[$phlhiHRIr ‘Namesake’ isfnmh-iHfsfb p/vS_n, p/chr oshPfl]r kYh. fmiÉfkhr Cibr mhfk_it}-w kyKhin p/zhsb]z Hz jhin nh, yfb wKhfn p/iyfbSI iHfsb o~fvrfnt\-ozhk_ fZ fbS fjhrhflh, fsth wfkbhfr ak%pnIznz. ahr ‘Namesake’ be (aY_hQ shiHy]) iHfsfb wKhfnZyKhin jnip/z HfziCl, fse s[bhfv jim FyrIe iClyhr b]bshizk shPfl]r jfn] – wetÑkÑ blfy phir;fsfqfáo befzr p/khSk fYfk ahr$B kfr Cibrp/fZhjk/pirfbSfkr abvhn iCl, fsthe s=hBhibk. yÑlnhzafcnh afvKh bh}lh Cib w-bhjhfr v~hR krhfy Hflafnk khTKR fphRhfy Hfb sf@vH fne. fZmn CibrSubtitle – fsth fjhrhflh ahr inB_Ñl Hozh vrkhrwKhfn jnip/z Hfy fgfl.

wKhnkhr fpShvhrI isfnmhHlåflh bh}lh Cibinzimy fvKhfy phrfb iknh, yhr wkmhá mImh}sh Hfbfs Cib fviKfz orh ahiY_k shPl] phfb iknh, yhropfr – fs-J~[ik ajhnh bfle nhrhj Hfb orh Hzy;ahShbhvI wb} ozhikbHhl ahr-fku fs-s$bfnßahflhkphy krfy phrfbn, fse-ahSh jhinfz fSA krl[mwe p/sXg.

yéyIz fZ ahflhcnh-sBhz Yhkfy fpfriClhm,yhr ibAzbïÑ iCl: bh}lh iSâshiHy] – rhjp[á fYfk

H]hrI pthr\. mfn ahfC, we ahflhcnhr ahsr fYfkfbirfz mfn HfziCl - wth ahmhfk HyhS kfriClsbfcfz fbSI. an] ahflhcnhåflhfy fZmn fpfziC icëhrfKhrhk, wthfy âV[ v[i^cëhr – ahr fs v[i^cëh bh}lhiSâshiHfy]r BibA]y fBfb (iSâshiHy] blfy wKhfnikfShr-ikfShrI shiHy]o aëB_Ñ|).

we ahflhcnh-cf÷r p]hfnlBÑ| ‘shiHiy]krh’(S/IsmfrS mj[mvhr, S/IH[mhz[n ahfmv, S/ImyI bIiYcfûhphV]hz, wb} ‘sb_Gft k~hThlI-klh’-ræpI S/Is[nIl

ghXg[lI, p/m[K) blfln – ‘iSâshiHy] ivfz iks\s[]

Hfbnh – Zhfvr jfn] flKh yhrh chz nh bh fbhfJ nh –pzsh fne bfl p/khSk fYfk flKk fYfk phTk skflekfr abfHlh’ – ey]hiv wkhë fniybhck ui| (ibS=hskrºn - BhAhëfr w-sb o~fvr kYhre shrmm_)! ânfy-ânfy mfn HiêCl – wesb shiHiy]krhiSâshiHy]s<i&tfy inyhë inrºQshHI, wb} aphrg. fbhJhfgl, o~rh bh}lhshiHfy] p/kéy iSâshiHiy]kfvr Hfz‘p/k\is’ ivfêCn, p]hfnl al}kéy kfr bfsfCn âV[mháwKhfn Hhijrh fvozhr s{fá! iSâshiHy]fk o~rh yÑêCkrfCn, fChfth krfCn – wb} fse p/zhfsr mhV]fm

ahmhr fchfK fChfth krfCn infjfvre – fsth ay]ëv[:fKr. bh}lhshiHfy] fChtfvr befzr ajs/ s$BhrrfzfC, rfzfC iSâshiHfy]r am{l] Bh@dhr. ah^cZ_ lhfg,fse Legacy-r uärhiVkhrI Hfz fse fsùBhg]fk fmfninfz wigfz Zhozhr fc&th v{fr Yhk – yhfk abôh kfr,

fHz kfr – ahjfkr iSâ o ikfShfrr an[pZ[|

p/iypnN krhr fc&thr áºit krfCn nh o~rh – fKzhlkrfCn nh, Ghtiy Ziv Yhfk fsth y~hfvre aqmyhjinywb} amhj_nIz.

ahj shib_k fgLhbhlhefjSfnr kl]hf> iSâshiHy]oahëj_hiyk HfzfC, mhin. âV[ khflr Zháh yhr khr> nz– fvfSr fcHhrh yYh jIbnZháho fgfC phf%t. iSâ bhikfShrmfnr ÷mibkhfSr pfY ahj yhfvr Hhfy wfsfCafnk nyÑn upkr>. w-p/sfXg jFnk b|h (fbhVHz


9

smfrSbhb[) blfln – wkit iSâfk g%p pfR iviêCfln

iyin; fSA Hbhr ahfge fs y~hfk Yhimfz blfl – ‘yÑimAC infz g%p blfy phfrh?’ âfn iyin abhk! khr>

ijfôs kfr jhnfln – AC aY_hQ Air Conditioner ZÖit

yhr K[b pCf@vr – c~hivPhth grm Gr fkmn fbS Th@dh

kfr fvz – yhe infz g%p ânfy chz fs. âfn b|hHyhS Hfz, pRhz eiy thnfln fsKhfne wb} ahmhfvrkhfC iSâr BibA]y infz fqhB wb} g%p-pRhrinrY_kyh infz aiBfZhg jhnhfln. âfn ahmhr mfn Hl– iSâ Ziv AC infz g%p ânfy chz, shY_kiSâshiHiy]k ikëÑ fsth mfn rhKfbn wb} yhe infzeilKfbn. wth iSâr opr phirphiS_=fkr p/Bhfbr jfn] –ZÖ ahmhfvr iny]khr jIbnfk kyKhin inzÖ> krfC,yhre pirchzk. shiHy] fZfHyÑ jIbfnre p/iyPln wb}iSâmfn p/y]q ahfbvfnr s<i&t krh ZKn wkhë jrºrI,yKn … Why Not? fknnh, Bhbfy Hfb beitr bhjhr-vr– p/khSk Chpfbn iknh fsth icëh krfy Hfb fZ!

iSâr pCf@vr vhbI infz icëh – fs fyh sb=hr fSfA!

kYh HiêCl fChtfvr befz Cibr Bçimkh infz.b]hphrth shib_kBhfb uiRfz ivfln o~rh. S/IH[mhz[nann[kr>Iz bhxhl-BhAhz ahpn aiBôyh-s{fá *p&tjhnhfln, fChtfvr befz Cib in&p/fzhjn; khr> iHfsfbjhnhfln – Cib fjhghR krh BhrI sms]h, iTkmy iS%pIphozh S|, ey]hiv. s[nIlbhb[ fkùyÑk kfre fChtfvrbefz fmfzfvr Cib-s$pik_y sms]h-s$bfnß syk_ kfrivfz infje p/cÑr Hhsfln – smfby fS/hyhrh yyth nz!bh}lhshiHfy] iyin aiBô o jnip/z flKk, ahjkhliSâ (ibfSy: ikfShr) shiHfy]o flKk iHfsfb y~hrsmhn jnip/zyh âfniC – o~r khfC gBIryr wb}p/hsiXgk fkhno mëb] ahSh kfriClhm, yhe ikC[thinrhS Hlhm. smï p/sXgth Hhs]kr bfle abhk lhgl.mfn pRl ‘a]hilfss\ a]hdfBöhrs\ en\ ozh@dhrl]h@d’befzr p/Ym pirfêCfvr p/Ym p}i|fye a]hilfsr infjrkYh: “… once or twice she had peeped into the book

her sister was reading, but it had no pictures orconversations in it, and what is the use of a book,thought Alice, without pictures or conversations?”

ibfvSI-shiHfy]r kYh fCfR ive, ahmhfvr abnI@v/nhY(iZin infjr flKh s$bfnß bflfCn – ‘abnThkÑr Cib

flfK’), ufp@v/ikfShr, s[kÑmhr, sy]ijQ, fZhgI@v/nhY,viq>hr¶n, s[inm_l, s[Klyh, aimyhB, p{f>_@v[ - sbhrbefze Cib (flKfkr infjr a~hkh nh Hflo) wk ibrhts$pv! phT]bïÑr sfXg Cibr fmlbnßfn iSâmfn ahg/Hfyhlh sHj Hz, fsBhfbe ofvr mfnr nhghl fmfl –yhe fChtfvr befz Cibr m{l] apirsIm, fsth Z[fg-Z[fgfvfS-fvfS p/mhi>y. s=z} rbI@v/nhY ilKfln – ‘sHjkYh ilKfy ahmhz kH fZ, sHj kYh Zhz nh flKhsHfj’, fskYh mfn frfKe iSâfvr jfn] ilKfln ‘sHjphT’, n@vlhl bs[r Shvhkhflh Cibfy Zh sibfSAal}kéy.

p/]hk\itkhl p/fzhjfnr fvhHhe ivfz bh}lh fCfRe}frjIp/Iiy bhxhlIr aiÆmíjhz imfSfC afnkivne –‘ahmhr fCfl-fmfz fbXglI jhfn nh’ bhbh-mhfvr wfHngb_mhKh ui| khfn wfsfC ahmhro. ahiY_k qmyh wfnfCupkrf>r bhH[l] – fbfR fgfC cfzs, bfzfsr VhfpVhfp. H]hrI pthfrr be iSâfvr Hhfy yÑfl ivfzfCnfsesb bhbh-mh-rhe, p/h>p> p/iyfZhigyhz iSâfvr FSSbmhrh fgfC Z~hfvr Hhfy. sill fcùV[rIr ghfn ahfC –‘iSâ-iSâ k~ÑiRfvr fPhtbhr aiVkhr – wsb fyh

ahmhfvr jnMgy’ – fse jnMgy aiVkhr ahj b[iJ

fkfR infzfC fku – Hzy ajhfë fse-y~hrhe, Z~hrhyhfvr jnM ivfzfCn! bh}lh iSâshiHfy]r Gfr fZ uíj=lmi>m[f|h rfzfC, ofvr FSSfb ik y~hrh fsåflh yhfvrHhfy yÑfl bh pfR ivfzfCn? FSSfb tÑntÑinr befzrmV[mhKh s[r (fk Bhe, tÑinBhe? / wfsh Bhe, bfsh Bhe /

Kht fpfy ive, Bhy fbfR ive, Khfb Bhe?’) Zhfvr

khfn fDhfkin kKfnh, mrfm pfSin v[fzhrh>I–s[fzhrh>I-kXkhbyIr b]Yh, p/hk\-FkfShr fYfk FkfShfr uärf>rm[fK frhmhö jhghzin fHfmn rhfzr ikrIit ahr sy]ijQ


10

rhfzr fPl[vhr kIiy_khiHnI, yhfvr khfC TV-khlchr ahre}frjI fSKhr kl]hf>, ahr fse sfXg J.K. Rawling-wrklfmr åf>, H]hrI–Hhim_ofnr khfC fZ fHfr Zhfb

ThkÑmhr J[ilr rhjp[á-rhjkn]h ahr fbXgmh-fbXgmI –yhfy ahr ah^cfZ_r kI ahfC? p/sXgy, ikC[ivn ahfgahmhr mfn p/SN fjfgiCl, shmfY_]r aBhfb H]hrI pthrZhfvr Hhfy ofTin wKno – yhfvr kYh fk Bhfb,yhfvr jn] nyÑn iSâphT] be flKh Hz ik bh}lhz?gybhr befmlhz uär fpfziClhm yhr. fvhfzl p/khSnIbfl wk p/khSs}Æhr fvhkhfn DÑfk pfRiClhm – Bhllhgl o~fvr be fvfK, ahfrh Bhl lhgl o~fvr fChûfGhA>hz – ‘fvhfzl mhfne fChtfvr Bhflh lhgh.’ mfnHl iSâshiHfy]r m{lmÖitr fK~hj o~rh fpfzfCn. shY_kfHhk\ o~fvr p/fc&th.

H~]h, H]hrI pthfrr befzr afmhG ahkA_f>r kYhmfn frfKe bil – ahmhr mfn Hz ahjkhl ahV[inkyhrp/Bhfb iSâ-mhns Zyth nh phf%tfC, yhr fcfz afnkfbSI phf%tfC yYhkiYy iSâshiHy]-s/&thfvr mhnsflhk– wth líjhkr. iSâfvr p/iy vhzbvßyh s=Ikhr kfrnnh w~rh, yhfvr fcnhr fc&tho kfrn nh fsBhfb. s<i&trahixnhz in&Thr aBhb ahmhfk b]iYy kfr – wb} fsthsb_smfq fshêchfr p/khS krhr V<&tyhfk iVòhr fvozhrp/fzhjn fbhV kir.

we-Vrf>r ahflhcnh-sBh bh seminar-w Bhfbrahvhn-p/vhn Hznh fymn – kYh Hz, Hznh kfYhpkYn.

khr>th jhin – smzs}fqp. fvS fYfk Z~hrh ahfsn –y~hrh blfy ahfsn Zy, ânfy yy nz. mfn Hz p/kéyahvhn-p/vhfnr s[fZhg Yhkfl afnk ajhnhfk jhnh Hz,afnk afcnhfk Hz fcnh – upkéy Hn v[pqe.

wKn w-p/bhfs ahmhfvr ‘jIbn igfzfC cflkÑiR-kÑiR bCfrr phr…’ s=Bhbgy n&t]hlijzhr Bfr

mn fcfz Yhfk uf%thm[fK, ayIfyr phfn – fs-mfnrchiHvh fmthfnh S|. chozhth fskhflr, phozhth w-khflr– fs b]bVhn sHfj G[cfb nh jhin. w-o jhin, wKhfnr

jIbfn nhnh ibk%p bhV] Hfze fmfn infziC – eilfSrmfyh bfl yhr bvfl imflfC S]hd\, iJfxr bvfl j[ikin,i÷fkftr bvfl fbs\bl, khSPÑflr bvfl p]h%phs\ g/hs\,rjnIgnßhr bvfl itubfrhj\! weBhfb ÷fm fmfn infziCwe ahmhfvr bhxhlIr ‘mfyh’ kfr bh~ch. mnfk iSikfziC– ‘ZhHh che yhHh BÑl kfr che, ZhHh phe yhHh…’

che iknh iTk jhin nh, yfb fmfn ine ZfY&t bfl! fsepirfp/iqfy, b}g sf$mlfnr we Pà]hn\chej\ - Ph*t\PÑfdr mye Ph*t-Phn\ o Ph*t-khlchr – fmfn infziCahim; fZmn fmfn infziC p/iybCr wfvfSr ibiBnN SHfrwr ufv]h|hkÑl, inuezfk_r fkfnh ibfSA s}Æhfk fsePà]hn\chej\-PI bhbv ngv m{l] Vfr ivfy – mfnhpil-iHfsfb Zh K[SI! ibS=-aili%pfkr fZmn IOC, ahmhfvrwe bhxhlI-aili$pfkro fymin we ghid_zhn-s}Æh b}gsf$mlfnr wkêCá inzëh. s}ƒéiyr fqfá w-Vrf>rkyéy= fmfn infy chznh mn – Bhib wr ibk%p iHfsfbBibA]fy wr ‘mfyh’ Ziv ikC[ fjhft kphfl, Bhl-m@vimiSfz yhe bh g/H>fZhg] Hfb nh fkn? âfniC aV[nhfs-Vrf>r aiïy= mhYh yÑflfC wfvfS an]á – yheafpqhz ahiC ‘mfnhpil’-abshfnr.

abS] b}g sf$mlfn igfz b]i|gyBhfb inrºQshHHein wyhbQ – br} ibicá fp/r>hz uQshiHy HfzfCmn. nhnh rfsr ahsfr ahGhfy-s}Ghfy mhYhr mfV]inurf>r vhphvhip Bhle flfgfC – fjfgfC nhnhn\fbhV. ahr ZKn fs-rfsr ayÑ]QshHI pirfbSn ‘khfnriByr ivzh mrfm nh pfS’ m[åfrr ahGhy fHfnfCk>_pfY, imuijk\ pir>y HfzfC nfzfj – ZKn khufk

fShnhfy nh phrflo cIQkhr kfr blfy eêCh HfzfC –‘s}ƒ éiyr mhpkhiT fdisfbfl nz’ – yKn agy]he

philfz fb~fciC ‘an] fkhYh, an] fkhfnhKhfn’ – an]Gfr, an]-rfsr snßhfn. s}ƒéiyr b]hpk pirfbSfnrkl]hf> scrhcr biöyo Hz in fs-snßhfn. wk anßkhrGr fYfk fbirfz ahis ahflhz, ahbhr Hzy DÑik igfzahfrk anßkhr Gfr, ik}bh fkhfnh s=pNmz ahflh-


11

ah~VhrIfy; ahr yKin b[iJ fcynhr gBIr fYfk ufTahfsn jIbnhn@v – infz wk ah^cZ_ fbhV:

ahflh-anßkhfr Zhe – mhYhr iByfrs=pN nz – fkhn\ wk fbhV khj kfr!

s=pN nz – Shië nz – Bhflhbhsh nz,Hævfzr mhfJ wk fbhV j@m lz!

ahim yhfr phir nh wRhfy,fs ahmhr Hhy rhfK Hhfy;

sb khj yÑêC Hz – p@d mfn Hz,sb icëh – p/hY_nhr skl smzS{n] mfn Hz, S{n] mfn Hz!

mfnr mfV] we sb Bhb infz fKlh, we sb fbhV –wfvr infz nhRhchRh krfy Bhflhe lhfg. efmhSfnr

s}fg p/]hg\m]hitj\m\ ivfz gRh ahjfkr jIbfn, we sähz– bhfr bhfr fsthfke prm lhB bfl fmfn ine. wmin

kfre cfl ahmhr b}gsf$mln-pir÷mh – fp/r>h pheibpv ag/hH] kfr fnRhr mye bhfr-bhfr fp~ùfC fZfyp[rfnh fse fblylhz!

w-ahflhcnh Ziv an]fvr icëhr fKhrhk fjhghzahr yhr yhigfv y~hrh p/hsiXgk v[’Cá ilfK SfXKrvrbhfr phThn, yfb yh p/khfSr jfn] SXK-s$phvkfkaig/m Vn]bhv jhinfz ahjfkr w-flKh fSA kriCwKhfn. nmƒhr..


12

The Fire and the Fireside ThoughtsMaya Mitra Das

he word fire actually means so many thingsin many ways, physically and metaphysically.Fire is heat, light, and one of the main factors

leading the human civilization forward to manyfacets of life.

On a cold winter day, I visited my friends John andhis wife Ursula, in Suisun. Being friends for a longtime, it feels like an extended family. John startedthe fireplace. I could see the misty landscapethrough the window. We three and dog Harry theboxer comfortably placed ourselves in the livingroom. Ursula lighted candles in every corner of theliving room; each of them is different and unique.There is one from Iceland on the mantel of the fireplace. It is a small house covered with ice, andthrough its window, the flickering flame isemanating glow making it mystic .Through thewindow I could see the golf course, where the golfcart are running, here and there, making theirpreparation. The golf course is beyond the backyardfence. The tall pine trees are still, standing like apainted picture.

The yellow, blue, and a streak of orange flame keptburning .Very pleasant and peaceful .Harry neededsome attention, so he placed himself almost at myfeet. It seems time has stopped ticking, and I ammingled with the timeless universe; the crackle ofthe wood from the fireplace breaks the silence.

Lost in time, I travel back and forth withimagination. I see fire in our prayer rituals, and alsoon our wedding night. The priest makes fire

with a special kind of wood on a sand bed; the wholething is on a rectangular iron of similar type ofmetallic container. He starts his offering and prayerwith Sanskrit slokas or hymns; at the end of eachmantra he utters Agni Swaha. The bride and groomtake vows in front of the fire. They also put theirofferings and then go around the fire taking sevensteps - the vow of seven steps in their married life.The bride dressed in red while a thin red veil drapesover her head. She moves forward with her lifepartner to take the steps of her future married life.The flickering flame casts a shadow over the half-hidden face of the bride, makes her prettier.

In India Agni, the fire is considered as a God inVedic rites like “Greek God” Prometheus, who, outof his affection for mankind stole the fire, andbrought to Earth. This made Zeus, the leader ofGreek God, very angry with mankind and also withPrometheus. Prometheus gave fire, essential forcivilized life. Out of the flaming forge cameweapons of war, and also the disruption of a simpleway of life.

Agni, with his wife Swaha, on his own right helpsand in turn destroys; and at the end, new creationstarts. Agni is supposed to purify, and turneverything to golden alchemy. After each offeringand mantra, we utter Agni and Swaha.

Suddenly crackling of wood breaks the silence -Ursula‘s voice came from the kitchen. Maya, here isyour tea. The living room and fireplace looksextremely cozy and warm, I take my place, lostagain with my thoughts of Fire.

T


13

The Drive and Energy inside us are like fire.Sometimes it feels like you can move a mountainyourself - practically not - but energy inside tells youthat.

The feeling and yearning for something orsomebody burns you inside, which in turn makessteam, which could move you forward or make youexhausted .The fire, which burns inside you, couldmake you a better person, With its light, one sees theimage of self and purify oneself to become a betterhuman being.

Lots of activities are going on in the kitchen. John iscooking. That is also a kind of fire - the cooking fire,modern one. John, a Surgeon and a voracious reader,is an intellectual and a very good cook. Ursula, hiswife, is a pretty good cook, but she leaves thecooking to John as he does it very artistically.

Ursula already set the dinner table in a very artisticway, there again a variety of beautiful candlesplaced ready to be lit. Maya! Ursula’s voice again,grab something to eat, dinner is at 5-30 P.M – stillthree half hours to go.

I grabbed something to eat. Harry is very eager toeat, but his dinner will be almost at the same time asus, so he gets a doggy biscuit. He is satisfied. I amback to my place, so are Ursula and Harry.

Ursula and John are widely traveled. Being in AirForce stationed in many different places in theworld, Ursula spends her time in teaching; and beingin many voluntary organizations, helps the localpeople in those countries.

We, Ursula and I, started our fire-side chat. Ursulaasked me,

- What are you up to? Where are you lost?

- I am trying to think and get lost at the sametime on the topic of cosmic dance of Shiva,Nataraja - dancing with fire.

- Explain to me.

- Let me think. O.K, I will begin with - nameof Shiva is Nataraja, Lord of Dancers orKing of Actors. The cosmos is His theatre;there are many different steps and manydifferent dances in His repertory. He

Himself is an actor and audience. It seemsthe dancing came into being at the beginningof all the things. He is the dancer, who, likethe latent heat in firewood, diffuses Hispower in mind and matter, and makes themdance in turn. The figure with four hands,the left foot is raised and the right is down;one right hand holds the drum and other liftsup sign of ‘not to fear’; one left hand holdsthe fire and the other points down. There is alotus pedestal, which springs an encirclingglory fringed with flame, and touches withinby the hands and fire.

- This figure is symbolic. On His hair is askull and a new moon - death and rebirth atthe same moment. The drum indicates thetime which is ticking constantly andcreating. This drum of time shuts out theknowledge of eternity. But in the oppositehand is a flame which burns away the veil oftime and opens our mind to eternity.

- As Bharatnatyam dancers, we bow beforethe image of dancing Shiva before and afterthe dance.

- Before going to stage we bow to Him for thefire, which is inside of us to be rekindled, sowe can burn the veil of time and can feel inour heart the timeless eternity within theboundary of time.

- Very interesting. Now I know the reasons.Thank you.

The Sun went down, the sky is reddish orange, thereare some cloud floating around, painted with orangeray of the Sun. One or two birds flew by - may bethe last ones to return home. Harry is anxious for hisdinner.

John’s voice is heard from the kitchen, we will goout and will watch the stars when it gets dark.

My fire side thoughts are still playing hide and seekwith me.

The stars and constellations - they are also the fireballs, dancing the primeval rhythmic danceinterweaving and interchanging with harmony.


14

Infinity In The Palm Of Your HandAnd Eternity In An Hour?

~ Rendering by Ivana Banerjee, Mountain House, CA

he Bay Area is a uniquely diverse and abusy place. Where else are so many typesof people thrown together and so busy in

such a gorgeous climate as to forget to enjoy itmany a day. We, the Bay Area families, struggleevery day to bring a quality life to our children,offering excellent education while trying toinspire pride in our cultural heritage. We,besides being fascinated by new technology,new consumerisms, are also focused onimproving our health. Large Organic Producestores, Health Clubs are thriving here, despiteany panicking about 'the economy' because,irrespective of our ages, we all want to be well,and cannot afford any type of medicalcatastrophes in our family. We have come fromall backgrounds and ethnicities; all levels of"assimilation" struggle here to make ends meet,and all are burdened by stress, fatigue, and jobloss, unfair or unhappy situations at work. We,the people of the bay area, are industrious andlooking for ways to improve ourselves, in theareas of work, family, or inner peace.

For many of us, life seems to be quite perfect.We are already enjoying cool jobs, happyfamilies, and excellent health. We are pleased

with our individual accomplishments and feel

satisfied in life. But what will we do with thisperfect life? What if a very small change couldmake all the difference? What if there were a

T


15

simple way to decrease the stress and friction ofdaily life? What if we could understand ourhealth and disposition? What if we could gain abetter control of our life and teach ourselvesand our children ways to lead a stress-free life?What if these “Stress Management” classeswere free, the training effective, and theexperience were verifiable? What if we could

master these new skills in just a few weeks?What if we found it helpful, healthy, andinspiring? What if we could provide dramaticrelief for ourselves, family and friends a fewweeks later when we show them thistechnique? Would you feel offended if thesetechniques were free? Would you be upset ifyou gained these skills without having paid fora degree or certificate? Would you bedisappointed if the experience were designedfor any person who honestly wishes to gaininner peace with pure knowledge? Would yoube sad if you felt better, or gained new strengthfor helping others to help themselves? No. webelieve you would enjoy it. You wouldrecognize that the experience is unique, that thebenefits are a treasure. You would appreciatethis subtle living process that converts ordinarymoments into a blissful experience thatconnects an ordinary person to something moreeternal, you would see its potential to mend ourtroubled selves, and our world. Because each ofus count, and even a perfect life does not lastforever.

So, friends, in the stressful moments ofrestlessness, when you are looking forsomething but don't know quite what, wouldyou like to try to meditate? Yes, Meditate.Meditation can actually make you feel morerelaxed, less angry, more serene, and lessimpatient with yourself and the world. There isa simple technique that can bring you in the"Now"- the present moment. How? Well, keepyour mind open to welcome objective ideas,like a scientist. According to Josephine P.Briggs, M.D., Director of National Institute ofHealth, “Meditation has been used for centuriesto increase calmness and physical relaxation,improve psychological balance, cope withillness, and enhance overall health and well-being. ……What is new in the last 15 years orso is scientific data. These data show thatduring meditation there are a number ofmeasurable biological changes in the autonomicnervous system. Modern neuroscience hasestablished that the meditative state can beassociated with changes in electrical function ofthe brain, and recent imaging studies suggestthat there may actually be neuroanatomicalchanges as well.” According to a studypublished in the Journal of the AmericanMedical Association in 1997, more than 100million Americans sought out nonconventionaltherapies like meditation, chiropractic

treatments, and natural remedies. Countless


16

hospitals now offer programs in meditation aspart of their general patient care. Meditationcan make you feel deeply peaceful, strong andpositive at all times- at work, at home,wherever you are, regardless of yourcircumstances- every single moment and everysingle day of your life.

Since the word “Meditation” conjures upimages of sitting in yogic poses for hours onend struggling with one’s mind to achievepeace, many people feel, it is just "not for me".But, meditation, in the real sense of the word, isnone of these things. Meditation happens whenyou feel a total absence of unwanted thought, astate when we can tap a powerhouse of fresh,pure, carbon neutral “renewable” Inner Energy,lying dormant in the sacrum (= sacred) bone(seat of our organs of creation), at the base ofevery human's spine, that brings your plexusesin harmony and as a result of her awakeningand penetrating and nourishing the limbic areain your brain, the thoughts that originate fromour external and internal environment, becomesilent. When this happens, we are notmeditating, but "in meditation". It is a state wereach that integrates into our daily lives, withmany benefits including; staying in the presentmoment and being inspired by a thoughtlesscalm mind which gives us the best solutions toproblems, clear communication, and balancedrelationships where we are neither dominated,nor dominating others. Our life becomes ajoyful play in which we see ourselves as willingactors. We also feel in every cell of our beingour connection to all of life, so our lifestyles areinnately "green and sustainable" withouthaving to be told what the correct way of life is-we know it through our vibratory awarenessthat we have when we are connected with ourinternal energy system.

This meditation exercise will take you about 5-10 minutes. No prior experience is required tomeditate. You "come as you are"! The depth ofyour meditation depends on how strongly youdesire to meditate. So, if you are ready tomeditate now, please take your shoes off, sit

most comfortably, resting your feet on theearth. Loosen your belt; sit either on the earthor on a chair. Put your hands in your lap, palmsup. Make your room quiet. Now, please desiredeep from your heart to meditate. It has tocome from your heart or it won't work. We willsay four affirmations now. When you say themsincerely, your own neurophysiological systemsubtly responds to these affirmations.1. Now, please put your right hand on yourheart (cardiac plexus) and in your heart,address the All Pervading Energy of the

Universe with this question three times “Am Ithe pure spirit?” Then, please say withsincerity, “I am the pure spirit.”2. Then, please put your right hand aroundyour left neck (cervical plexus) and say in yourheart, a couple of times, “I am not guilty foranything”. Guilt is a negative emotion thatbuilds up stress within us. When we becomePure Spirits, can any guilt touch us?3. Now, please put your right hand directly onyour forehead (Optic Chiasm), and say as manytimes as you wish -“I forgive everyone. Iforgive myself”. Here the movement ofthoughts does not allow forgiveness, and hence


17

mental silence cannot be established. When wecannot forgive someone, we actually play intohis or her hands. So, it is important that we

forgive everyone, including ourselves.4. Finally, please put your right palm on the topof your head. Specifically, the fontanel bonearea. The spot where infants' heads are soft.Push down gently on this spot. Here, please say"Please take me into meditation. I wish to feeldeep peace within myself." Address the AllPervading Energy of the Universe with thisrequest three times. Now, close your eyes. Sayit one more time from your heart. Sincerely.Close your eyes. Repeat this affirmation a fewtimes if you feel like or just enjoy the silence.

Was there a moment of absolute silence in yourmind? Did you feel any subtle movement onyour hands, maybe a tingle? Every time youmake these sincere wishes to become one withyour spirit, not feel guilty, and forgiveeveryone, including yourself, you willexperience the joys of mental silence, yourInnate Energy will come up instantly, the mindwill stop its gymnastics and your meditationwill grow deeper. I have experienced that, withpractice, you can enlarge this momentarysilence into hours of deeply peaceful silence.You will feel as though you can truly holdinfinity in the palm of your hand, and eternityin an hour, as prophesized by William Blake.You may meditate in the morning and eveningfor 10 to 15 minutes, but you really can stay inthat "state" throughout the day.In the past four decades, individuals from allnations, races, ethnicities and walks of life, arebenefitted by meditating, enjoying the innerpeace and balance in everyday life.

So, Friends, just try it for at least a month.Meditation is one of the wisest and mostcompassionate things that you'll do foryourself. It's free because Inner Peace doesn’tcome with a price tag! How much can we payto breathe fresh air? Similarly, meditation isalso your birthright. Please visitwww.sahajameditation.com, for onlinesessions, or drop in at one of the ongoing freemeditation classes, held throughout Bay Area(all information are available atwww.sfbaymeditation.org). If you'd like todeepen your meditation experience, we wouldlove to meditate with you. If you have anyquestions, or thoughts, please feel free to writeme at [email protected].

(PS: I would like to thank everyone, esp.Elizabeth, Kerry and Priyanka, and friendsfrom our global family, whose generouscontributions have enriched this article.)

(Acknowledgement: This article found its source ofinspiration in the Philosophy of Sahaja Meditation,

discovered by Dr. Nirmala Srivastava, twice Nobel PeacePrize nominee, recipient of numerous prestigious awards,including UN Peace Medal, and sharing the honor withEinstein of being appointed the Honorary Member of thePresidium of Petrovskaya Academy of Art and Science,St. Petersburg, Russia. In the history of the PetrovskayaAcademy, only twelve people have been granted thishonor, including Einstein and Shri Mataji Dr. NirmalaSrivastava. Claes Nobel, (grand nephew of Alfred Nobel,

Nobel Peace Prize Foundation) Chairman of the UnitedEarth Organization says: "Shri Mataji's discovery bringsgenuine hope to humanity." In the past 40 years, thisbreakthrough in human awareness has regeneratedhundreds of thousands of people in all the five continents

who are enjoying a life full of pure love, wisdom, peace,joy, humility, strength and serenity. Recently thespectacular Opening Ceremony of the CommonwealthGames heralded this discovery to the global audience -http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7DENTteDWTw&fe

ature=related.This article is a small and humble attempt torender the magnanimity of this discovery.)


18

Welcome to America: The Land of DreamsSubhalaxmi Majumdar

ne backpack, my passport, I-20, threehundred dollars, and 10 travelers checks, anda torn piece of paper containing names and

addresses of my contacts: sounds like a complete listfor a weeks travel abroad. But these were the onlythings I landed with at Houston InternationalAirport- to start my new life as a student in theUnited States of America! All my baggage exceptthis one backpack was missing, and I had beenflying for more than 40 hours, excluding a total waittime of 20 hours. I sighed a huge sigh of relief afterputting foot on the aerobridge, only to rememberthat my journey wasn’t over yet. I had another onehour drive to my final destination. That was when Irealized that this was only the beginning of a life ofstruggle, hard work and sleepless nights. Was Iready for it? Did I have a choice? Was I scared toface this real-life fact? Or was this just first timejitters? Whatever it was, I was going to get myanswer soon enough.

When the aircraft departed Chhatrapati ShivajiInternational Airport, at some odd hour of the night,little did I know of the ordeal I would be facing toreach here. Like thousands of other students flyingout everyday from this airport, I was confident ofreaching my final destination as planned on time,especially since I had traveled all over the world forthe last 22 years. Ma has a very strong sixth sense,and in addition to her being upset due to mydeparture for a foreign land, she had been worriedabout my safe arrival. Dad kept telling her I wouldreach as planned like everybody else, but she was alittle uneasy. My eyes were swollen out of all thecrying at the airport. I felt like jumping out of the

plane and running across the tarmac back to theairport gate where my family would have still beenwaiting to see me for one last time, till I met themagain after God-alone-knows when. I looked allaround me just to find more than half the aircraftoccupied with yuppie guys and bubbly youngladies—all students just like me, some of them stillweeping, some busy chattering away with theirfriends. But one thing was clear; I seemed to be theonly soul traveling alone. Everyone seemed to betalking to one another except me, but that didn’tmatter to me. Suddenly, in the midst of all thisthinking, I looked out the window and realized wewere already airborne—I had left Indian soil, myfamily and my past life behind. My cheeks were wetonce again and I couldn’t seem to calm myselfdown. This was going to be my future life…whether I liked it or not.

After landing at Heathrow Airport at London, I wasgoing to have to take a coach to London GatwickAirport for my next flight to Dallas, my port of entryinto the US. We landed of course, however were toldthat we would have to go through immigration.What? That didn’t seem right. Why immigrationwhen I was going to travel onward across theAtlantic? Then came the announcement across theP.A system, “This message is not to frightenanybody on board. The level of security has beenraised to Red, after orders from the BAA…..” Wassomething wrong? We were told to claim ourluggage after immigration and thereafter followinstructions on the TVs and announcements in theairport. This was the first not-so-pleasant news.

O


19

The lines to get to the immigration desks wereserpentine. All I had was two hours to get fromHeathrow to Gatwick. Would I make it on time?

“I’m sorry ma’am. That flight just took off! Pleasecontact the BA information desk for further details.“What? I had just missed my flight to Dallas by amere 5 minutes; in short, I had missed all myconnections beyond that. Now what? My problemsjust didn’t seem to get over. To call Gatwick airporta fish market would clearly have been anunderstatement. There was no space to evenmaneuver my luggage trolley. Some people wererunning around, some jumping over bags, somefighting with airlines officials, and others justenjoying the confusion. Suddenly, on the television,I saw that my flight had NOT taken off…..

“Here are your new boarding passes, all the way toHouston. Have a safe trip. And sorry for theinconvenience.” I had indeed missed my Dallasflight, but thereafter, I had managed to argue verystrongly about my reason to reach on time. None ofthe other passengers got immediate reschedulessince ninety percent of them had their flightscancelled or had missed them due huge immigrationlines- we still had no clue why. Most of them werebeing told that they would have to stay at a Londonhotel for a minimum of two nights till there wasspace on aircrafts to accommodate them - all at theirown expense. At that moment, I felt proud ofmyself. I never thought I was the bold kind ofperson, always the shy, reserved kind. In situationslike this, I would have never been able to convincethe officials to get me a seat on a plane that day, buttoday was different. I was stuck in a completelyforeign land thousands of miles from home and

family, and I just had to fend and fight for myself. Icouldn’t afford to be my shy self. Suddenly I wasterrified of everything. I was so very dependent onmy darling didi, ma and dad for everything littlething in life.

Something was fishy. All we knew, or at least Iknew, was that flight schedules had gone haywiredue to some apparent step-up in security measures.Why were people carrying plastic bags with wallets,papers, medicine bottles in them? I knew I should bechecking in my luggage immediately though therewas a good three hours for my new flight to depart.The lines to check in were a mess. We had to followhard-to-see yellow lines which had been set up whatseemed like a few minutes ago to keep a check onpassengers. Everyone was highly flustered. Somehad missed their grandchild’s birth, some hadmissed big client meetings, and some had beenwaiting for over two years to see their children andcouldn’t bear the wait anymore. I was anxious toknow the reason of this chaotic situation. We weretold the same was happening at all major airportsacross the globe and flights out of Asia to Europeand America had been totally cancelled. Rumor hadit that there was apparently an attempted hijackingand threats to blow off a plane en route to the UnitedStates! I couldn’t believe my ears. Was this real?Were we going to be victims of repeat of a 9/11incident? Only difference, this time it would be 9/8.Coincidence or just incidence?

We were handed huge Ziplocs in which we weretold to put in our travel documents ONLY.Handbags had to be checked in as well. No novels,no food, no liquids, nothing except passports,wallets, boarding passes! Nobody seemed to believethis was all that was going to be allowed on flightswhich were going to be nothing less than at least 8hours, not that anyone had a choice beyond thesecurity check-in point. It was just that these are notthe only things I had quite intended to land with atHouston. But now what was worrying me the mostwas that I knew my family at India had no cluewhere I was, how I was and what flight I was goingto take. I needed to find a phone, and I couldn’t seeone anywhere. After reluctantly checking in mybackpack and my stroller, which had a day’s supplyof clothing incase I happened to misplace my otherbags, I dashed off with the plastic bag dangling fromone hand to the security check. I was tired, hungryand sleepy, and at that moment, I suddenly wished togrow wings and fly back to the comfort of ‘home’. ..


20

“Hi didi. Finally….” I burst into tears on the phonewhen I finally got through to my sister. Being assmart as she is, she had all my information of mynew flight number and new destination before Iknew what they were. Ever since the news broadcaston TV, she had been in constant touch with Britishairways to track my whereabouts. My family knew Ihad reached London safely and would be in Houstonsoon. I wanted to speak to ma and baba too, but alltheir phones seemed busy because they were callingup contacts in London trying to make arrangementsto have someone receive me at London incase Iwould end up staying there. If this wasn’t care, whatwas?

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re extremely sorry to tellyou that we will be landing at Pittsburgh instead ofHouston. We’re out of crew time so new crew willbe taking over at Pittsburgh…” “if you see a whitejet stream of the wings, stay calm. We will bedumping fuel out of the aircraft”…theannouncements seemed to be coming one after theother. I was so frustrated at this point after 12 hoursin this aircraft that I was not even bothered aboutwhere I landed, or if we landed alive at all. Afterboarding, we had been made to sit inside the aircraft,on the tarmac for over 4 hours. Each and everypassenger’s information was relayed over to the USgovernment from UK, their permission to enter intothe United States was checked, and then relayedback to the UK government. This took 3 hours. Somuch scrutiny seemed insane to us, but I guess theywere right to make sure of our safety. Another hourwent in locating missing bags. Whatever! In thesefour hours, our only contact with the world outsidethe aircraft was the satellite phones located on board.

It couldn’t be too expensive since every secondperson was talking. I decided against it.

It turned out I had missed my connecting flight toHouston, again! Thanks to the four-hour wait atGatwick. I was so used to problems by now, that Iwas ready to face anything. I knew by now, that Godwas taking a test, or was just making me ready for alife full of struggle ahead. On reaching Dallas, I hadlost two bags, with the remaining two, I boarded theshuttle to the hotel I was to stay at, provided by theauthorities. I was the only passenger who had nocompany. Everyone else had some companion. Aftera sleepless half-night at Houston, I reached theairport four hours before my flight departure. I wassick of problems and was trying to avoid anymore. Iwouldn’t be surprised if this flight was cancelledtoo. It was now precisely, 56 hours since I had lefthome, 56 hours of no sleep, strange food andcomplete homesickness.

There was no one to receive me at HoustonInternational Airport. Students had come twicealready and gone back without me. I heard my nameon the PA system and soon learnt that a universitycar was there to receive me. Finally one good thing.But the bad news - I had lost another bag, which leftme only with my backpack. I wanted to hear ma’svoice, so I called after finding a phone. The driver ofthe car said, “Welcome to America…”

That was when it struck me, that I was finally in the“land of dreams….” This was definitely the end of ajourney which changed my life forever, but it wasthe beginning of a new life full of struggle, hardship,loneliness, homesickness, and a life I wasn’t sure if Iwas quite ready to face. Driving along, I watched thesun set and I looked forward to a new dawn.


21

bhrhk obhmh (1961 - )a}kÑr shHh

ahfmirkhr rh&tàpiybfzfs fCht ahmhr fcfz –aY_nIiyr fmG jfmfCp<iYbImz, ahkhS fCfz.

b[fSr pfr obhmh fGhrJfRr fSfA c~hfvr ahflh –v[e b<fqr v[it kÑs[mwkit Shvh wkit khflh.

ahfmirkhr rh&tàpiyiSqhz o s}fbvfn,u~cÑ mhfnr – y~hr ibjfzV[m flfgfC Hævzmfn.

ahfmirkhz Vm_ infzcflfC ibfBvm{lk fKlh;iH}sh, G<>hr fbshiy bzkrº>hmz iZâr fKlh.

Z[vß cfl skhl ibfklerhfk, ahPghinïhfn;mhn[A mfr åil fbhmhzpXå Hfz ibAhv mhfn.

jgQ j[fR ahShz b~hfcmhn[A – khflh, bhvhim, pIy;shfm] wb} unNzfngRfb s[Shsfnr iBy o.

ahfmirkhr rh&tàpiyahmhr fYfk bfzfs fCht;fp/ùR kib, wbhr yÑimahån fyfj Jl\fs oT..


22

fkzh mj[mvhruärs{rI

ahijfk ZhHhrh Vr>Ify ahiC fkH niH phpI fmhrhfvbyh fmhfvr V[fz m[fC gfRn pibá ahghfghRh.fmhrh fyh mn[r b}SVr, p[>]bfl q>j@mh nrfkn BÑfl igfz phyk Bhibfz phe fgh âV[e dr.fmhrh ajhySáº p[>]km_h mn[r b}SVr.fvbyh ZKn infjr khfj an[yhfp yhipy jj_ry~hHhr mfnr shëünh yfr sb V[fz m[fC fZtÑkÑ riHlfb~fc rn[ fmhrh Yfrhfk-Yrahmrh mn[r b}SVr.niH phpI fmhrh, ikfsr Bz!sjIb p/hf>fy sbl v[Hhfy bil&TBhfb Hhlit Vrofr fr, mn[r b}SVr.fmhrh niH fyh phyk, p[>]hy±h jhykahmrh mn[r b}SVrskl khfjfy sPl v[Hhfy sbl Bhfbfy Hhlit Vrofr fr mn[r b}SVr..

Happy to be Home AloneDipanita Pal Majumdar

You will be delighted to know my Charlie dear,

How happily I live in my country here!

Polluted air, impure water and adulterated food

Always keep me in a jovial mood!

Spurious drugs and contraband brew

Add to my life a year’s few!

I am single but I am never alone

My companions are idlers of my zone!

There are unstarred hotels and dhabas on wheels

From them I get much lunch and spicy meals!

I don’t have to go to departmental store.

Hawkers deliver everything at my door!

I enjoy full freedom, no check, no bar,

Can I have such liberty in your land afar?

My decision may appear to you a little odd

India is India, I don’t want to live abroad!


23

p{fjhr CRhik¶l BûhchZ_(fkhlkhyh)

nhfChR fmfGr ahnhfghnh frhv b<i&tr Ph~fk,wk Phil W SrQ ahkhS p{fjh p{fjh dhfk.iSuil PÑflr ahfbS-mhKh, Hhozhz fvhlh khSblfC fH~fk p{fjhr bhik mhá wkit mhs.bhjfC khfn khsr G@th, s}fg Dhfkr bhiv]r,sèmIfy p]h@t ahr Sht_, a&tmIfy ahiñvr.p{fjh s}K]h, nyÑn khpR, nyÑn nyÑn gfnß-b[fkr mhfJ årårhin nhcfC Hævz [email protected] bhiR Zhozh ahsh, Bhl lhghr fGhr,phfz fH~ft pY clh ahr rhiá jhghr fBhr.skl ahÄh m@dfpfy, rhfá ThkÑr fvKh,yhir mhfJ wbhr yhfk wktÑ phb fvKh.p/Ym fp/fmr an[Bçiy, wktÑKhin fCh~zh,V{fnhr gfnß mhyhl kfr, m{iä_ Dhfk fVh~zh.p/iymhfy rx pfRfC, rx VfrfC mfn,ahxÑl wKn Hhfyr fkhfR ivn âV[ Zhe åf>..

frhñv[fr rx flfgfCnIlhiv/ fGhA(fkhlkhyh)

we rx-lhgh frhñv[fr ahmhfvr kI fZn Hfz Zhz? yKfnh wKhfnikC[ p[kÑr iCl, p[frhfnh Hl[v fvozhflr bhiR iCl, p[frhfnh gnß-mhKh V{iy-Shft_r mhn[A iCl, rfkr ahÄh iCl, fridofy ‘mfnrmy ghn’ iCl ahr p[frhfnh ikC[ p{fjh iCl – sbikC[ jhnahmhfvr iCl.

C[fyh kfr inj_n v[p[fr ƒ Ñflr bhrh@vh fYfk nrm ahkhfSeyïy v[-wkth G[irr fBfs Yhkh. phRhr PÑtphfY bh~S pfRfC,fbhfrhilfnr khflh k]hnBhfs k]htfkft Hl[fv-flKh ibôhpn,. wbhrHhfy kr fgh>h, pfrr k’th-ivn fZ kIBhfb philfz fZfyh fkjhfn!

rhfyr p/bl icQkhfr G[m-Bhxh fBhr, ahfVh-G[fm fvKh fse m[fKropr khgj aYbh khpR-bh~Vh m{iä_. as[frr m[Kth ikëÑ fKhlh…ahr iCl ahmhfvr HhoRh f*tSn. fse fHhl\d\-al bïÑth fZ fkhYhzimilfz fgl? fZmn ivnhfër ahkhfS H[efsl\ ivfz imilfz fgfCkzlhr ei¶nåflh. ibjzhfy ufR-Zhozh nIlk@T phiKr my wrhoiPrfb nh.

ph%thflh smz, phf%t fgl sb ikC[e, fku fku bflnph%thfnhe rIiy. âV[ bCfrr pr bCr wk rfz fgl ibzhfsr phfraYbh jzshlimfr SrQ frhñv[fr ahlhp, ‘ahpnhrh fbHhlhr? ahmrho

fkhlkhyhr, FnHhit. ‘yKfnh fZ injs= iHi@vfy Br kfr bhxhlIrhbiR K[jfyh Hirv=hfr bh fshfzthr vr kry vhij_il}-w, wKfnhyhe. ahjo tz-ftàfnr jhnlhfy v[Hhfyr opr icb[k-rhKh BibA]Qwke Bhfb HThQ mhfz ah~cfl thn fmfr blh, ‘fvK, mh kI s[@vr!’ahThfrh bCfrr fZ uv\g/Ib ph-åflh DhkÑiR phs bh l]h}-t]h} B]hilrDhfl ibS/hm iny, ahjo wk Bhfb yhrh rhk\s]hfk mhiïnfghChz…

we V[flh JfRr smfz ph%thflh nh nh âV[ we SrQskhflr rx. ahr we rx-lhgh frhñv[fr ahmhfvr kI jhn HfzZhz…??


24

It’s Hard Being a Middle-SchoolerBianca De (8th Grade)

kay, so imagine for a minute that you’reat a middle school. It doesn’t matterwhich one. I don’t care if you choose toimagine yourself visiting one, or

attending one, or whatever, just imagine that you’reat one for some reason. Now that you’re in thatmindset, pretend you are watching the students thatare attending this school. Now I, with myabsolutely superior knowledge as a middle-schooler1 will guide you through this perilousbattlefield on your journey to gain some insight intothis complex and confusing place.What Happens in Halls

My friends and I amble through the halls.

There are throngs of people congesting the

walkways as they talk and laugh with each other.

I’m right there jamming the paths with everyone

else. I hang out with my friends in between classes,

during those four minute (Seriously! Just 4 minutes

to walk from class to class and catch up on what

happened during that period – can the teachers

blame us for being late!?) breaks between periods.

1 Just kidding!

We all exchange thoughts and events2 - like what

happened in history or what we think about what this

person did, or, mostly, what we did yesterday or what

we’re planning on doing this afternoon or something.

Mostly, though, instead of catching each other up, we

enjoy our tiny little breaks from the seemingly

endless boringness of classes.

…And What Happens in Classes

In most of my classes I sit near at least one

friend3. I like it that way – to be able to partner with

someone you don’t absolutely hate or, if you’ve

finished whatever you’ve been assigned, to talk

quietly (or loudly, or medium…). While the teacher

drones endlessly on about the “über-exciting” trip she

took or thing that happened to her4, which is

2 By telling each other, not beaming the thought at eachother or something3 Here, by friend, I actually mean somebody that I amwilling to hang out with, not necessarily someone who I dohang out with (there is a difference).4 Ex. The story of the teacher’s “almost-mugging”, whenshe was walking on a road on a cold winter evening and aman in a hoodie was walking on the same sidewalk as her.

O


25

apparently exciting enough to merit half a period of

class, me and whichever friend is sitting close by

me can exchange a glance and burst into

(hopefully) silent laughter. If I look around during

one of these never-ending stories, I see heads

lolling and people fighting to stay awake. I’ve even

heard snores, but the sleepyhead’s friends usually

shake them awake before the teacher notices.

When we do class projects, split into

groups of five or six, every group claims a section

to do their work. The most wanted spots? They

have desks for sitting under (not at, of course) and

lots of carpet to actually work at. People also like

the corners, but, most of the time everybody is

goofing off, talking and horsing around, instead of

working. It doesn’t really matter, though, because

we get the work done.

During individual work, everybody talks

and laughs and asks each other questions anyways.

Though it is “supposed” to be silent, the room rings

with conversations, but we get our work done, so

the teachers don’t mind. Everyone scrambles to

finish so that they can do something else, whether it

is doodling on whatever spare surface is available5,

chatting with the people around them, or just

zoning out completely. I’ve seen people space out

right in front of the teacher’s desk, with their eyes

rolled back in their head, and their tongues lolling

out. When they get startled out of their trances

(usually by a sympathetic friend), it takes about five

minutes for them to recover fully.

Passing notes? Though it is seen as a

terrible criminal offense, it’s not actually that bad,

despite the horror stories of easily embarrassed

people have to read notes containing highly

sensitive information to the class, and fainting with

embarrassment as the class shakes with laughter.

5 usually a piece of binder paper, or a folder, or the desk(but we erase it all off the desks , so don’t worry).

After all, it’s mostly only done between you and the

friend that sits nearest you (two seats away,

maximum) as you share whatever witty observation

you just made, so it’s not super-disruptive at all. This

is generally done during the pointless parts of

educational movies and long lectures.

Here’s a sample of what’s written on a note:

Friend 1 (writing on a sticky): this movie is so

boring! who cares about bird tongues?

Friend 2 (writing on same sticky): not really. did

you see the bird using its tongue to catch a fish? It

looked like me when I was bobbing for apples on

Halloween!

Friend 1: haha! it did! lol! 6

What P. E. stands for7

The locker room is packed with people

sprinting in, throwing on their P.E. clothes, and

shoving their once-carefully selected outfits8 into tiny

cube-shaped lockers. Shouts and squeals of greeting

echo around the rows of lockers. As people hurry out,

they are replaced with more and more late-comers.

Eventually, the bell rings, then the few people left

over gasp and race out, searching for their P.E. class.

Being late for P.E. is really, really, really annoying;

you have to do twenty entire minutes9 of outside

physical activity to make it up so it is no surprise that

nobody that’s not absolutely psycho wants to be late.

In class, we stretch and run and play until we

are panting with exhaustion. During the winter we

shiver and sniff and look absolutely miserable until

the teacher FINALLY lets us go inside the gym, out

6 I don’t think birds actually catch fish with their tongues. Icompletely made it up. Nor do people really bob for applesanymore7 Since it isn’t in the following paragraph, I’ll tell you here:it’s physical education8 People spend an hour or so picking them out, thencrumple them into absolute messes. What a waste of time!9 It’s a really overblown punishment; nobody actuallymisses twenty minutes of P.E. if they’re late. Most peopleare only about 5 minutes late, so they only miss waitingaround while the teacher sets up


26

of the cold, but in hot weather, we beg and plead to

go inside because of the sun. Every unit of

activities elicits a round of groans and cheers; the

guys whoop for sports like football, while the girls

holler for racing and hurdling.

After P.E., everybody pushes their way into

the locker room. They yank their now crumpled

school clothes out of their lockers and moan in

horror at the new state of their clothes as the others

laugh at them (in a nice, “the expression on your

face is priceless” way, not a “haha your stuff is

completely messed up, now look at our pristine and

spotless garments10” way). After pulling on their

clothes, people stand on benches and look at the

mirrors, appraising themselves. (people have fallen

off the benches, engrossed in examining their

reflections, but luckily it’s never happened to me.)

Eventually everybody has borrowed accessories

like necklaces and bracelets, or retouched their

makeup to their satisfaction and everybody goes to

class, hoping to get there with time to spare before

the (usually) dreaded beginning-of-period bell

rings.

Why We All Love Lunch

Waves and waves of people, coming from

classes all around the school, converge at the lunch

tables. Every group of friends locates all the

members, and then proceeds to its spot11, which is

a) A lunch table

b) A section of low concrete wall

c) A patch of shady (usually) grass.

Lunch is possibly the most looked-forward-to

10 Their clothes are actually just as miserable, so it wouldbe a pointless comparison. Besides, no one actually says“pristine and spotless” unless they’re affecting a fakepersona (oops! Nobody says persona either)11 NOBODY un-crazy would ever dare to take overanother lunch spot, unless the original owners had

a) Graduated from the schoolb) Moved to another spot, leaving this one

unclaimed, orc) Merged with the would-be usurpers

part of the school day, with the possible exception of

the ringing of the blessed bell that announces

“schools out!” I personally like it better though,

because it’s the perfect time to take a break from the

constant studying and just hang with your friends. At

every table, you can hear laughter and talking as

people wind down for a short12 amount of time. A lot

of people are talking about what happened in class, or

what will happen in class, but most of the crowd is

talking about anything and everything - their favorite

new song, why they got a drastic new haircut and

how much they now regret it (13), or how they

managed to run the mile in 6 minutes . The lunch line

snakes around the quad as people wait to buy a slice

of pizza, or a salad, or a cookie, or a drink or

something. People are at their most exuberant during

lunch period. Most people have smiles on their faces

as they jump around and talk to their friends.

The Social Hierarchy Underlying All of This

Every group of friends has a different social

status. Most are in the middle, because the absolute

top (the ultra-elite über-popular), and absolute bottom

(nerds, dorks, geeks, dweebs, etc), are few and far—

between.

The most valued skills in middle school?

a) A quick wit – If you can’t come up with

comeback at the snap of a finger, you’re

seen as shy and timid14

b) A smile – if you look unhappy, people

will leave you alone to wallow in your

own misery.

c) Easygoingness – if you hold a grudge for

too long, people will think you cold and

uncaring.

Despite the stereotypes, you don’t even need

to be wearing brand-name clothes 24/7. What about

12 Very much too short. Have you heard the phrase ‘life istoo short’? Well, it’s still true if you replace life with lunch13 or , depending on how you look at it14 I don’t actually know why. You just are


27

Aeropostale, Abercrombie, Hollister, etc.? They are

nice, but the girls with the most fantastic style in

the school? They’re perfectly pretty in hoodies,

flipflops, sweats, and plain tees, but that could be

just because they’re so confident – it oozes off of

them like the filling of an ice cream sandwich on a

hot day. Which reminds me; the most common

defining characteristic of popular people is their

confidence15. Who would you rather approach,

hmm? A timid person that absolutely will not make

eye contact with you or say anything except to

answer a direct question (think yes or no answers)?

Or somebody lively, friendly, and smiling that isn’t

making you do all the talking? Exactly. This is why

it is my personal little theory that confident people

are more common the higher up the social ladder

you go. Or course, the confident people’s friends

probably came along for the ride.

And then there are the people who are in

the process of climbing up the social ladder. It’s a

pretty safe, easy place to be – you aren’t constantly

on the spotlight, with your every move scrutinized,

tracked by pair after pair of eyes waiting to snap at

any opportunity to push you down16. Nor are you

looked down upon, dismissed as a nerd, and

collectively ignored. The people here are not quite

as mind scorchingly, blazingly confident. They talk

and laugh with their friends, but underneath the

façade, sometimes they are actually pretty timid.

But there are also the confident ones that just

weren’t shoved up into the spotlight. Interestingly

enough, this is where I find all of the name-brand

worshippers. In my opinion, a couple of logos, one

or maybe two, but is it really considered cool if

every single piece of clothing in an outfit is

plastered all over with logos? I know that it’s called

mixed prints, or print layering, but I personally find

15 oops! That sounded like cheesy pep talk material16 I’m exaggerating, don’t worry

it tacky. Each to her (or his) own, I guess.

There are also people that are considered “not

cool”. They are called nerds, geeks, dweebs, dorks,

etc…)17 these are the people with chronic quirkiness.

The stereotypical image that comes into mind at the

word ‘nerd’ is that of a guy with a huge pair of

glasses and brain, and a white button-up shirt with

dress shorts, talking excitedly about the latest

MMORPG18. But… not all nerd are like that. They

come in all shapes and sizes and genders and colors

and stuff like that. The main reason for being labeled

as a weird person (outcast) is behaving strangely.

Maybe they talk in a really creepy super high pitched

voice all the time, even though you know that they

can talk like a normal person. Or, maybe they never,

ever laugh at anything19 or something like that.

These people are usually quite oblivious to their

social position – if they know that they are not the

most popular, then they are probably not actually

within the gates of nerd-dom, though they may be

near.

In Conclusion…

So, middle school life is pretty complicated.

There’s a set of unspoken rules governing this entire

experience – for example the one about the lunch

spots I told you about. Besides, I haven’t even talked

about what happens after the last bell rings. Anyways,

in conclusion, it’s hard being a middle-schooler, so if

you’re past middle school, be glad20 – and if you

aren’t, now you’re a little more prepared than you

were before you read this.

17 I wonder how come they get soooooo many awesomenames, but nobody else has a bunch of awesome epithets18 massively multiplayer online role playing game19 although that could just mean that they are seriouslylacking in the sense of humor department, or that they justdon’t know how to laugh20 Extremely glad


28

Times that PassTuhin Chakraborty

The old man stands naked, unmoving in a grassyfield, hunching over as if the dreariness of the Winternight hangs over him - suffocatingly close to his chest,bearing its tremendous weight on his shoulders. The sunis gone. The moon is new. The stars, few. The crispmidnight Zephyr cuts through the grass, nipping at hisbare skin. He does not flinch. Scars of time are etchedcarelessly on his weary countenance. He takes the firststep, slow, deliberate. He is oblivious to the fresh scentof raw grass grazing his bare feet; oblivious to the lushgreen around him, painted lightly by the few stars. Theold man has never been awed by nature. Tonight is nodifferent. Tonight, he is accompanied solely by histhoughts.

The field is Infinite in its repetition as it stretchesinto a panorama - a death trap for any foreigner. But theold man is no foreigner. He knows this field like heknows himself - an instinctive, thorough understanding.For the first time, perhaps ever, he moves with purpose.In time he reaches a place, and his movements rapidlyslow to his original stance, this time, arms akimbo. Withnothing but wet grass on his horizons, the old manrecalls this view. It is the same view he absorbed exactlysixty years ago. The same space he had created on thisfield in his youth, he is now occupying again.

He pauses for a second, inhaling the moment, beforesitting slowly on his haunches, and running a wrinkledhand through the grass, palm down, slowly, deliberately.He does not feel the tight pinches as the icy waterdroplets attack his hand. He is not bothered by theirsting. He continues running his hand through the samesquare foot of grassy earth until it bumps into a slightprotrusion. He has found what he is looking for. Apencil. Crudely shoved into the ground sixty years agoby the very hands that have now discovered it. He wrapsa numb hand around the end, and pulls.

It glides out easily.He lies down on his naked back, ignoring the

wetness that now sheets its iciness against him. The endis near, he feels. The old man gazes at the pencil. Into it,rather. And through it he is taken back sixty years intime. Back to his youthful self, who once stood preciselywhere he now lay. It was a time when he had promisedhimself to make something of his future. A time when hewanted to inject change into his life - a life somonotonous and rigid that it gripped him tight around

his throat and dared to throw him over his own mentalcrevasse. And so, sixty years ago, his frustration thrust apencil into this same wet grass, hoping, praying, beggingnever to see it again.

And there he lay, sixty years later, holding that verypencil, reminiscing about a life he never changed. Theold man releases a sigh of deep sorrow. As if he has beenholding it in all along. He pulls a Marlboro out frombehind his ear; the midnight Zephyr lights the end of it.Still with pencil in hand, he inhales, passionately. And asthe smoke escapes his lungs, his body is sucked downtoward the ground. The old man closes his eyes, one at atime, as he enjoys this last feeling. He inhales again.Exhales again. With each breath his body falls deeperand deeper below the surface of the earth. And deeperand deeper it falls until nothing is left on that soft, wetgrass but a pencil, and the dying embers of a Marlborocigarette, abused by the force of the now calm midnightZephyr.

----------------------------

Window-SniffingTuhin Chakraborty

Sleep is broken. I wake, exhausted. Six in themorning, my eyes slosh unpleasantly as I overcome theHerculean task of rising from my mattress. Must be ontime for breakfast. Grab my bags, collecting the productof another night spent running a marathon of work.Exhausted. Breakfast oozes past my consciousness. Fourclasses end. Tests. Projects. Memorization. Break forlunch. One more class and then I am out on the waterwith my crew, rowing until my body screams.Exhausted. Break for dinner. Homework starts at sevenand defeats the sunset, every time. Final exams. Rowing.Film. College applications. SAT's. Each is a keyingredient in a recipe for a mental breakdown. It's pastmidnight. I put my pencil down. And I cannot sleep – gofigure.

My cerebral cogs have built up a days worth ofmomentum, and I've forgotten how to bring them to ahalt. My roommate snores in his deep sleep, hisbreathing serving as a rhythmic reminder of what Ishould so desperately be doing myself. I pause, now, inthe cramped darkness of my room, and stare longingly


29

past my Window from the cold floor. There is noquestion, no uncertainty, no second thoughts about whatI must do. It is time, now, to Window-Sniff.My hands reach to switch off the lights, cutting off myvision. With earbud headphones in my palms, I thinkabout the single most revered part of my room. MyWindow. I can safely say there is nothing special aboutthis Window. It is not, as you might imagine, welldecorated around the borders. There is nothing intriguingabout the way it opens and closes; it doesn’t even squeakwhen you move it. But it has provided for me a haven inthe past few years when I am in dire need of an escape.

I feel my way to the Window from my desk, apath I have developed a sixth sense for over the years.My eyes adjust to the shrouded darkness in my room andmy headphones slip into my ears. I throw my head andthe left half of my body over my Windowsill and sit.And breathe. Deeply. And in that first breath I feel mymind emptying. Soothing music resonates through mybrain as I gaze solemnly into the night. I take anotherbreath; each is as rejuvenating as the next. The viewseems surreal in contrast to the hectic boarding schoollifestyle.

I stare at the bushes as they sit so contentedlyunder the watchful eye of the midnight sky, and thesilver moon that covers them. I feel the clear, icy wind,fresh with absence of people, and hear the rustling ofsmall animals in the trees. You never hear rustling unlessyou’re really paying attention, at least that's what I'vecome to notice. Even the softest sounds from the pitchblack bring with them an overwhelming sense ofexistence. I'll close my eyes, sometimes, and lose mysense of gravity. I'll just sit there, suspended in silencewhile the world sleeps, and any stress evaporates in aninstant. My release.Window sniffing has become an integral part of my lifeat school. Often times, one is so caught up in themomentum and swiftness with which the boardingschool life moves that one can often miss out on life'sfinesse. When I sniff the air outside my Window, theworld slows to a pause. And within this pause I can seethe world unfiltered. Through my Window I transcendthe rigidity of the structure of my daily routine. I breakthe repetition. And it feels great. Try it sometime, youmight understand.

THEFTAditya Guha

(Kolkata)

he sun had set below the horizon of Kolkata. Butthe rubicund sky showed that night was yet tochallenge the sun’s paling brilliance.

However, for Rajen Sirdar, the day had just begun.After haggling the vendor over a four-rupee ‘chai’,Rajen chalked out his scheme. He would hit the cornermost house in the 14th lane of Kalambari. A senescentcouple had recently shifted to the freshly painted house.That portion of the street had been without lights, forover a week and it was ideal for larceny. When night hadset in, he spotted the desolate house. After breaking insilently he pried open the almirah only to find a coupleof notes. He picked everything up and opened the backdoor. Stealthily like a cat he escaped into the darknessand shadows of myriad objects which juxtaposed to giveshadow even beneath the flickering street lights. Rajenhad been successful in his objective of cleaning thealmirah and escaping the qui vive night watchman.

Before the sun had risen above the horizon,Rajen counted the money. It was only a few thousandrupees. As he settled the money lying scattered on thetable, a sheet of paper fell to the ground. It was a blackand white photograph. Rajen’s eyes rolled with shock

and bewilderment as the photo slipped from his graspand fell to the floor.

Next evening, even before night had set in, Rajenwas pacing up and down Kalambari. Rajen didn’t see thesun set that day as the clouds had obscured the sun’sfading luminance. At midnight sharp, Rajen crept intothe same house again! As soon as he was able to pryopen the new lock a shrill alarm rang out rooting him tothe spot. The police had fixed the bell on learning aboutlast night’s theft. Within minutes the police barged inalong with the owners who were anxious to know theperson who had tried to rob their house a second time.

What met the aged couple’s eyes was shock asthey saw the police dragging their only son, Rajen topolice custody. The bundle of notes dropped from hishand as the posse dragged Rajen away from his parentswhom he had seen again after almost two decades.Having run away from home after a quarrel with hisfather, he had taken to sweeping, waiting in a motel andfinally taking to his present vocation. As the fatherpicked up the note bundle, a tear crawled down hiserythematous cheeks. Suddenly his eyes fell on aphotograph. He and his wife were smiling, standingbeside their twenty year old son whose face had beenblurred and smudged with tears.

T


30

SpringBianca De(8th Grade)

Snowdrops poke their blooms upFrom the ground

Quietly bringing spring’s first beautyTo the world

Small whitish blossoms,Pale green shoots

The campaniform flowersAre gently drooping.

Daffodils herald the arrival of springTheir faces open to the sunJoyfully burgeoning in the earthThey blaze in golden glory.

Cherry blossoms, soft pink and whiteFlowering in cascadesDrifting gently off tree branchesFloating through the air.

Tulips cheerfully flowerChalice-like blooms in scores of colorsRuby red, magenta to salmon, amber, creamFilling meadows with the happiness of spring.

The heady scent of hyacinths fills the airA delicate aroma, sweet and daintyThe flowers bloom in exquisite spikesOf lavender, mauve, and lilac.

Fresh new leaves, in pale verdanceFrom celadon to mint greenExtend from the branches of treesSoft and waxy, shining in the gentle sun.

Hummingbirds flit among the blossomsA blissful dance around fields of bloomsExtolling spring’s many virtuesThese vibrant jewels of springIn stunning hues of garnet and emerald.

RepentenceAditya Guha

(Kolkata)

Recalling his valiant exploits

How he had valiantly destroyed men

How he had been valiantly destroyed.

He did not know his opponent

He had just been told to fight.

So he valiantly gunned down men

Knowing not who or why

It should be an honour

That we all, the sergeant said

They picked up their arms and weapons.

They were not the least afraid

God, spare me, I beseech

The soldier breathed in his prayer

My wife, my children, my country

I will fight no more I swear.

The man’s breath faltered again

He saw his country and his family again

‘Am I dreaming, he asked himself,

Or am I standing in Heaven!’

CensorshipTrisha Mita Sen (Gr. 12)

My tv isn’t clear and my radio’s fuzzy,but it’s not reception that isn’t giving me what I wanna hear.It’s the media and everything they omit,never wanting to show us the real grit.Here in this country we get freedom of speech,but what about when a newscaster makesexercising it his profession,except all he really wants to do is suckmoney like a leech?Everyone thinks education will teach youabout your rights, but it’s more likesomeone’s turned off the lights.All that we get to hear is what won’tcause any fear, but then howare we supposed to learn from past mistakesor do we genuinely want to preventthe next apartheid, or even a future genocide?


31

A pencil can Make A DifferenceTiara Bhatacharya

About 3 years ago, my mom and I were watching ashow on TV. It was talking about the lives of childrenin Africa. They were all fighting poverty desperately,struggling to even earn their daily meals. One of thegirls they showed was an excellent student, earning thehighest grade in mathematics of her class. The schoolrewarded her efforts by giving her a pink pencil. Shewas honored and used it everyday after that to finish herhomework. She kept in her own special place, in theshack they called home.

You may be wondering, what’s the big deal?It’s only a pencil. For us, it’s only a pencil. Most of uscould buy a hundred pencils and not think much of it.But that pencil made such a big difference in that girl’slife. It wasn’t just a writing tool, it was her motivationto do well, and succeed academically. It was a prize shehad earned for focusing, that she treasured above allelse. We’re all just so fortunate. While we’re strugglingon buying the newest iPod, the newest game system,the coolest phone, they’re struggling to survive.

I got an idea after that. What if we could givenot just that girl, but also hundreds of other kids themotivation to do so well? All it would take was apencil.

We all have extra pencils, pens, erasers, andsharpeners lying around in our old binders, desks,pencil cases, thrown under the sofa in irritation at theannoying math problem glaring at you. Why not putthem to use? I’m not asking for expensive things fromJapanese stores, just a normal one you find lying aroundthat you wouldn’t mind donating. I’m sure it wouldmean a lot to these kids if you gave them somethingfrom inside your heart. If you’re interested or if youhave any questions, feel free to [email protected]

Thanks for your time! And remember,A Pencil Can Make A difference

The Lion and the LambPiyali Banerjee

Summer and winter seasons do attractTwo complete opposites come together;This clash has an extremely great impactOn two lovers whose love’s light as feathers.

Thoughts of each other stream in day and nightLonging for each other every minute;Trying to stay together with all their mightAs they put all their mind and heart in it.

Man and woman, lion and lamb, same thing;They have irrevocable sentiment.Always picks up the phone on the first ring,Their love for each other is permanent.

Unconditional love is not a sham“So the Lion fell in love with the Lamb.”

- Twilight


32

Poulumi Banerjee

Tria Roy

Shristi Pal (Age 5)

Piyali Banerjee


33

Documents

Shankha Sharodiya 2010 - Internet...Shankha: Puja: 2010 ShrvIzh: 1417 3 Board of Directors Chairman Ashis Sengupta Treasurer Nilanjana Roy General Secretary Prasenjit Senupta Rana