28 December 2020

A moment of poignancy

How the tables have turned. This nephew of mine – always the sensitive and responsible one (are all eldest siblings that way?) had to grow up quickly.

Patiently reaching out to my dad in his forlorn moment of intense grief.

My cup of sense of pride for my nephew brimmeth over…

12 December 2020

Only my dad would think of it…

The somewhat good news from India is that dad is in a relatively stable state. But when I tell you that his blood hemoglobin level is 5 (normal 14-17 for men), you get the general picture – that the “goodness” is only relative to what he was going thru last week. But at least, he has been getting up on his bed to read the one book he keeps reading over and over again (Gita) and has also been taking a couple of stabs at recitation.

My brother and I were discussing about his health a couple of days back and somehow the topic went to the new refrigerator Sharmila just jot installed in our kitchen. My brother was surprised that the refrigerators here are connected to water supply. (Back in India, we were and still are used to putting water in the fridge to cool it down or make ice cubes). As I was explaining how we get cold water just by putting the glass in that cubby hole at the door, he started laughing out.

“What happened?”
“Do you remember the dad story at Taj Bengal hotel?”
“Which one?”
“That tap in the bathroom where the water flowed moment you put your hand under it?”
“Oh! Yeah!”

In a flash, I remembered the incident and started guffawing too.

As a background, back in the late 90s, I used to go to India very often for work and on my way out, I used to fly down to Kolkata and stay at the Taj Bengal hotel there. My parents would come down from Durgapur – we would meet for a day and then fly out back to the USA.

There was that one time, when the hotel had upgraded me to a fancy suite. I think we were all sitting around (my brother and sister in law was also there) when we heard dad yelling from the bathroom.

“Ki hollo?”, my brother yelled enquiring what was going on.
“Jol porchhey na”, replied my dad notifying us that the taps were apparently not working.

In a jiffy, I realized what was happening. Quickly went inside the bathroom to see my dad helplessly staring at the tap which had no visible way of being turned. For good reason too. Because it had a sensor and all you had to do was put your hand under the tap – and voila!

“Tap-er nichey haat ta diye dekho”, I encouraged him to put his palm under the tap.
“Jol ta khulbo ki korey?”, he still wanted to know how to start the water.
“Aarey, haathta diye-i dekho na”. I encouraged him to follow my instructions.

You can only imagine what happened after that. He was totally flabbergasted how the tap kept guessing correctly when he had put his hand underneath it and would promptly dispense warm water. He tried the few usual moves to see if it could trick it.

Finally, he was convinced that the tap was fool proof. Then he looked at me and asked “Ei hotel-e emon room aachhey jekhaney kol-er tolaay haath paatle-i, poisa phelbe?”.

So, he wanted to know if the hotel had a room with a tap where if he put his hand underneath it, it would dispense money instead of water!!!

That be truly my dad!!

16 November 2020

Missed this year’s “bhaiphonta”

Today the “bhaiphonta” ceremony was celebrated at my dad’s place. Three years back, I had surprised everybody at his place by showing up on this day. That was 34 years after the last time I had “bhaiphonta“.

Then last year, I tried surprising everybody again. Except my sister and her family and my brother and his family were elsewhere. (They had no idea I was going to show up). I had spent the whole day with my parents.

This year, thanks to Covid, I have to reconcile myself to seeing the pictures on Whatsapp.

4 November 2020

Jhorna!! (Bengali alert)

This morning mom reported that amidst the continuous pain my dad is going thru (he is having a real rough time), he had a bright spot when my sister came over and talked about his recitations. My dad used to enjoy reciting Bengali poems – mostly Rabindranath Tagore’s poems. (as in any self-respecting reciter born in the early to mid 1900s Bengal would do).

Looks like he gave it a shot at reciting when my sister brought up the topic.
I asked mom “Which poem did he recite?”
“Nirjhorer swapnobhongo”, she said referring to one of his old time favorites.

Just to engage mom, I asked “What does Nirjhor mean?” After a couple of minutes she gave up. And I let her know the meaning of that Bengali word is a “waterfall” (cataract, cascade).

She immediately asked me “Onno jhorna-r kabita ta mon-e aachhey?”. She enquired if I remembered another famous Bengali poem describing a waterfall. I did remember the one she was referring to. My dad used to recite that one too.

Written by Satyendranath Dutta – often referred to as the Wizard of Rhythm – it is an absolute masterpiece. Each and every word is golden. But the cadence/tempo of the words as you recite them is impossible to forget. There is no amount of translation that can do justice to the words. Certainly there is no way of carrying the rhythm in any translation.

I did remember the first paragraph. It has been impossible to forget ever since our Bengali teacher in eighth grade – Mrs. Gita Mitra – had taught this poem. Such lilting and catchy is the tempo.

Later looked up the whole poem. Turns out I had forgotten most of the rest of the poem. Which is a shame. It is an absolute gem of a poetic talent. Here is the whole poem for my Bengali friends…


ঝর্ণা ! ঝর্ণা ! সুন্দরী ঝর্ণা !
তরলিত চন্দ্রিকা ! চন্দন-বর্ণা !
অঞ্চল সিঞ্চিত গৈরিকে স্বর্ণে,
গিরি-মল্লিকা দোলে কুন্তলে কর্ণে,
তনু ভরি’ যৌবন, তাপসী অপর্ণা !
ঝর্ণা !

পাষাণের স্নেহধারা ! তুষারের বিন্দু !
ডাকে তোরে চিত-লোল উতরোল সিন্ধু |
মেঘ হানে জুঁইফুলী বৃষ্টি ও-অঙ্গে,
চুমা-চুম্ কীর হারে চাঁদ ঘেরে রঙ্গে,
ধূলা-ভরা দ্যায় ধরা তোর লাগি ধর্ণা !
ঝর্ণা !

এস তৃষার দেশে এস কলহাস্যে-
গিরি-দরী-বিহীরিনী হরিনীর লাস্যে,
ধূসরের ঊষরের কর তুমি অন্ত,
শ্যামলিয়া ও পরশে কর গো শ্রীমন্ত;
ভরা ঘট এস নিয়ে ভরসায় ভর্ণা;
ঝর্ণা !

শৈলের পৈঠৈয় এস তনুগত্রী !
পাহাড়ে বুক-চেরা এস প্রেমদাত্রী !
পান্নার অঞ্জলি দিতে দিতে আয় গো,
হরিচরণ-চ্যুতা গঙ্গার প্রায় গো,
স্বর্গের সুধা আনো মর্ত্যে সুপর্ণা !
ঝর্ণা !

মঞ্জুল ও-হাসির বেলোয়ারি আওয়াজে
ওলো চঞ্চলা ! তোর পথ হল ছাওয়া যে !
মোতিয়া মোতির কুঁড়ি মূরছে ও-অলকে;
মেখলায়, মরি মরি, রামধনু ঝলকে
তুমি স্বপ্নের সখী বিদ্যুত্পর্ণা
ঝর্ণা !
—-

9 October 2020

That is an incredible pencil drawing

The three photos below are that of my first cousin, once removed (at different ages). That is my mom’s brother’s son’s son. You might remember him from some of the stories I wrote about him during my trips to India.

The picture above is a pencil drawing – inspired by those photos – done by another of my first cousin, once removed. This time it is my mom’s brother’s daughter’s daughter. While I am no expert in the arts – it sure takes me a minimum two glasses of wine to appreciate Sharmila’s paintings – three, if it is an abstract – even to the untrained eyes of mine, this seems to be an outstanding piece of art.

I hope she will follow her passion and talent and someday, become a great artist.