Rahul Raj and the Absence of Pressure

Rahul Raj is dead, killed by the bullets fired by policemen for whose subsistence ,taxes have been paid by his parents. Psychiatrists will delve into his behaviour, as to why he got a gun, held the conductor and several passengers of the BEST bus captive, fired a few shots and why he wanted to talk to Raj Thackeray.

 

Was it a Rang De Basanti syndrome--in which a protest is launched against the misdoings of an omnipotent state by the youth of India? Was it an effort to have publicity, in which ,like in films, he would be on National TV , declaiming the wrongness of the actions of the MNS goons? Was it an attempt to give a voice and action to the thousands of Bihari youths, who migrate outside the state in an effort to get a sustainable livelihood--the opportunity for which is lacking in their home state? Or was it a protest at the looting by the rest of the country of Bihar's and Eastern India's immense natural resources for little compensation by the Central Government for quite a few decades? Or was it just the expression of foolishness by a boy of limited intelligence who did not know any better?

The fact remains however, that a gun toting youth, who had killed no one and who had no criminal records, was killed by a hundred policemen whose efforts at controlling real killers of the Underworld still leaves a lot to be desired, and whose efforts at controlling the MNS miscreants, is still questionable.

The fact remains that a young adult of India has been killed by a State which guarantees a fundamental right to work anywhere in this country--and possibly that was all this misguided Rahul was wanting.

True, enquiries will be launched, no police officer will be deemed guilty, a report by the CBI or a retired Supreme Court Judge or the concerned department will gather dust and the incident will worry us for a few days , before being forgotten under the pressure of work. Did the police have justification for their action? Yes, they will say. An unstable youth with a gun, who had allegedly injured a passenger, had taken a government employee hostage, and who refused to surrender--needed to be stopped. Of course, we tried to aim at the peripheral parts of the body, but we failed. There is a limit to police patience. We were apprehensive that he would cause further damage to personnel and property. And that of course will be accepted.

Years ago . when I was a registrar at a Government Medical College, Mamata Banerjee and her firebrand Trinamool Congress party launched a misguided agitation to march to the Mahakaran, the seat of the West Bengal Government. After they breached one of the barriers, the police opened fire. 21 persons died and hundreds were injured. I would never forget that evening.

The injured and dying were coming in streams. We were tackling the cases on the floor, on the beds, resuscitating them and sending them to the operating theatres. Most had bullet injuries, fractures, abrasions, cut injuries etc. As I prepared to leave for the Operating room, I noticed a young boy in one corner, lying on the makeshift bed.An IV drip was running, Oxygen was being supplied, and a harassed intern was pressing a sterile dressing to his chest wound to stem the bleeding. There was a feeble pulse and the boy was gasping. I bent down and he suddenly clasped my hand. His eyes opened for a few moments, as he glanced at me. I gripped his hand and started shouting for him to be taken to the cardio-thoracic Operation Theatre. As the trolleys started coming in, the boy gasped again, and there was no pressure on my hand. We started APR, but to no avail. That absence of pressure on my hand was the signal that life had flown out through the small wound in his chest, killed by a state which would not listen to him.

(stock picture)

I have grasped since then, thousands of hands, but even now I can feel the pressure on my hand--and then the absence of it.

That is how easy it is to be killed. It is so much more difficult to live. That is why such deaths still pain me--and I wonder as to why we are slowly losing our patience and compassion--and why deaths like this are getting commoner by the day.

Winter is coming....

There is an anticipation in the air. The morning sun is muted, even mellow. The birds have started leaving the shadows and started preening themselves in the sunshine. The milkman's voice seems a little hoarse and he clears his throat frequently. The morning tea seems a necessity, and the warmth of the tangy beverage a little bit more welcome.

The air conditioner hums seem much less obvious. Pluto gets up a trifle more slowly in the morning and prefers to raise one curious eyebrow at first. At night, watchful mothers close open windows, and down regulate the ceiling fans. Stretching hands look for some cover at night---a blanket or bed sheet  will do.

Woollens are remembered, sari pallus are tightly held over the body , shawls are taken out gradually. Full sleeves are preferred. The central air conditioning seems a little high. The roads are now covered with rain water. Once the rain stops, the dry leaves and dust would have formed a thick paste which would stick to shoes and chappals and bare foot for a long time.

The people from the hills with their coloured woolens stretched over the railings of public parks are yet to arrive in numbers. The leaves of the trees occasionally waft down--the numbers are increasing. The hint of smog is there.

(saurav)

We wrap ourselves in a cocoon of warmth.Winter is the best season of Kolkata.

Love Song In Winte...

The Domino effect

Everything is interrelated.We, our families, friends,colleagues,relatives, acquaintances,animals, trees etc. This has special advantages. We can learn from everyone for everyone knows at least one thing better than me. I had a peculiar failing when I was a school student, all of 12 years old. I just could not spin a top. You know, the ones with the thread called latti and the wooden top with a metal pin sticking out. Countless times I tied the thread round the top and threw it on the ground. And every time the top would lurch to one side and then would overturn or twirl sideways on the ground for a second or two and then stop. My embarrassment knew no bounds. All my friends would snigger and look amused whenever I did my top antics. On the way back from school, I had to go beside a row of shanties every day. I used to look with envy at the boys, some much younger than me, who would carelessly throw the top in the air and effortlessly draw on the string such that the top would land on the hand and start spinning!!!!

                       

I mustered up courage one day and tentatively asked one boy whether he could teach me how to spin the top. He looked at me condescendingly and asked."Sahab log ki school mein sikhata nahin?" I mumbled,"No". He took pity on me, and started to show me the technique. It took me a couple of days and countless tries before I started getting the hang of it. I learned how tightly I had to wind the thread, what was the force required, the timing, the pull etc. Within a week, I had got the hang of it. My friends stopped laughing. I started to modify the technique and perfected some stunts like catching the top between my legs etc.

But I have never forgotten the torn vested, unkempt haired boy who showed me something which I could not have ever done without his help.

So, I taught some other boys, and they taught others, and I dare say many boys gained a skill ,which though materially unrewarding , did a lot for confidence and self belief, which I am sure, they carried on into their later life and their children. This is a positive Domino effect. That is why education and teachers are so important for society, because they can have the most widespread domino effect, spanning decades and states and countries.

Domino effect can also be negative. Specially the cheap tricks carried out by politicians like Raj Thackeray.

By creating discrimination on the basis of language and geography, they can create the same Domino effect of violence in the villages and towns and cities and the whole country. No one denies him his opinion of home jobs for home people. But by reserving jobs, they are merely creating a pampered society which shies away from competition. My greatest thrill was when I came through an All India competition. I knew from that day, that I could face competition and survive. That feeling can never be in your core, otherwise. And it is that feeling and belief is what you fall back on in your darkest days. And you survive, strong and confident than ever before, because you trust yourself, and you back yourself anywhere, anytime.

Enough of homilies. Enjoy this wonderful truelife Domino effect.

The Band Mania

Mohiner Ghoraguli were much before its time, but they were the pathbreakers. Driven by the flair ,vision and commitment of Gautam Chattopadhyay  and the others like Pradip Chattopadhyay ,Biswanath Chattopadhyay ,Ranjon Ghoshal ,Abraham Mazumder ,Tapas Das, Tapesh Bandopadhyay and Raja Bandopadhyay, they wrote about urban life and the problems of ordinary people.

Prithibita Naki-Mo...

   

Sumon, unwittingly ,started the Jibonmukhi trend,(a term he was never comfortable with). Strongly influenced by Pete Seeger, his poetry(i.e. his lyrics), sang with simple accompaniment swept everybody off their feet.

Parar chhotto park...

The bands came later. Cactus led by Sidhu, had the wonderful Halud Pakhi, but failed to find direction and versatlity later on. Bhoomi ,with their simple folk tunes and Palligeeti, struck gold with Baranday Roddur, but again were unable to come out with innovations. Though they are widely popular on stage, their music remains predictable. Rupam and his Fossils took up Hard Rock and Grunge music. They continue to have a cult following, but many music lovers are not comfortable with their sound or style. Balancing everything, following a middle path regime was Chandrabindu. They had clever lyrics by Chandril and two fine lead singers in Uppul and Anindyo. They were trying innovations and probably were the most universally accepted by a cross section of viewers.

The controversial music director Pritam, who has churned out hit after hit in Hindi films, was a past member of this band.

Other bands like Krosswindz, Lakshmichara, Dohar also have their niche audiences.

The Band Music phenomenon ruled for a decade from late nineties to the end of the first of the 2000 decades. But due to the changing viewer tastes, their popularity is not like what it was 5 years back. One of my favourite songs of the early Chandrabindu is given below. Click on the Play sign.

03 Adorer Nouko by...

The new stars

Why am I going on and on about the current adhunik bangla singers? I believe they are equally talented as their Hindi singing counterparts. They lack publicity, marketing strategies and language problems.

The senior ones like Srikanta, Rupankar,Monomoy ,Lopamudra, Shubhomita all lack show biz qualities. They are more comfortable with a harmonium and tabla rather than big orchestras. It is too late to change. It is a tragedy that such wonderful singers do not find a national stage and remain confined to Bengal and Eastern India. But then, these singers are also unwilling to come out of their comfort level and be daring and uncertain.

But look at the raw young talent who by coming through the competitive, televised talent hunts, are at home being simultaneous singers and stage performers. Debojit, Anik,Amit and now Debabroto and Soumen together with Ujjaini and all show that a new group of eager young singers are shooting up fast. With music directors like Anu Malik, Sh-Eh-Loy,Pritam, Shantanu, Himesh,Aadesh already willing to incorporate them into playback singing, Bengal's new brigade seems on an inexorable upward march. How many survive in this cutthroat industry remains to be seen. Discipline, versatlity, dedication and the luck is so necessary with ,of course, the basic talent.

When will these new singers produce songs like this?

11 Tomar Tane.mp3

All of them in the great tradition of the famous singers who still live on through these songs.....

Kishore Kumar- Sei...

Bangla Gan

A sea change has enveloped Bangla songs. Sandwiched between the golden oldies , Hindi film music and bands--the individual singer has had to steer along a gradually narrowing road.

Apart from the jibanmukhi or reality singers, a strong undercurrent is flowing with Rupankar, and Monomoy. and others.

monomoy.mp3

Gaan khuje pai .mp...

Monomoy is trained, and given the circmstances can be an icon for the youth, with his voice and with his behaviour..... The song above shows that given a tune, he can belt it out well.

Rupankar has the most romantic of voices and Neel Dutta made good use of it in Chalo let's go.

Nostalgia

They describe it in Wikipaedia like this.

The term nostalgia describes a longing for the past, often in idealized form. The word is made up of two Greek roots (νόστος nostos "returning home", and άλγος algos "pain"), to refer to "the pain a sick person feels because he wishes to return to his native home, and fears never to see it again". It was described as a medical condition, a form of melancholy, in the Early Modern period, and came to be an important topic in Romanticism.

Ivanovich

How can you measure the flavour of a Coffee House Cold Coffee and chicken pakoras like this? Or the flavour of the mangoes in ahuge basket that my father used to bring home? Or the taste of the Chingri malaikari my mother used to cook so so long ago?

The first coloured moth flipping on the ground? The gently trickling waterpath from an overturned glass? The discarded glittering chocolate wrapper paper?

Or the smell of the wet earth after the rain, here, right here in the heart of Kolkata? The Prawn Cocktail at Skyroom, or the fresh baking smells of Flury's? The sounds of the bands playing at Trinca's flowing out in little windy spurts as the doors swung open to let the guests in.... Or the anticipation of listening to Hemanta Mukherjee's Puja song--"Bandhu Tomar Pather saathike chine nio" The whir of the 33rpm black discs on the record player where you had to place the turntable pin on...

The churan taste at the school tuckshop, the musty smell of the greenroom below the wooden stage, the group of us wading home after the typical Kolkata waterlogging-Subir, Ranju, Kaushik, Pushpak, Somenath.....

I will always reserve a space for nostalgia. If it is a disease, I am glad I am infected!!!!!!

Listen to these songs.

Hemanta Mukherjee-...

Mon Matal Sanjh Sa...