City of Joy

 

 This is the Howrah Bridge (in Kolkata) viewed from a departing airplane at midnight. If one stretches their imagination a little, one will notice that the bent shape of the Howrah Bridge resembles a subtle smile. She is smiling back at you as you leave the city for another city. She wishes you the very best for your future. 

However, secretly, She also knows for a fact that no matter how modern and flashy other cities are, they won't be a city with a 'heart'. The reason why Kolkata is called the "City of Joy" is because Kolkata is a city with a heart, with a soul. 

Here is my city in pictures. I have tried to uphold the essence of Kolkata, which always refuses to give up its originality and integrity in the face of surmounting pressure. 

1. Howrah Bridge (obscurely known as Rabindra Setu) is built on the Ganga river. It was imagined by George Turnbull in 1935 and opened in 1943. It is currently the sixth-longest cantilever bridge in the world. On the left side of the bridge is one of the busiest railway stations in the world- the Howrah Railway Station. Do you notice the iconic yellow taxis? As of now, it only operates in Kolkata.

  

2. Victoria Memorial: Following the orders of Lord Curzon in 1901, the monument was constructed to honor Queen Victoria. It was opened in 1921 and remains the largest monument dedicated to any monarch across the world. 

P.S. Before entering, do buy a pack of the peanut-onion-chilli mixture from the seller just outside its gate. You won't regret it. Oh, and also carry your best camera or DSLR. If weather permits, you will surely return with some amazing clicks!

 

3. MG road or Mahatma Gandhi Road. If you ask me, this has got to be the most chaotic road in the whole world! But despite all chaos, everything somehow works. It connects important places like College Street, Presidency University, Sealdah Station, and Hatibagan. The Barra-bazaar is located here and is a huge flea market exploited by wholesalers across North India.

4. Esplanade / New Market: A famous open-air shopping market in Kolkata where one can experience the harmonious co-existence of rich and poor brands, pretentious and un-pretentious crowd, and lastly, tasty and extremely tasty food! Eateries that I would recommend are - Nizam's, Hogg's room, and Chittoda's Suruchee Restaurant. Kolkata made it to the list of 11 best food destinations (9th position) in the world as being the only Indian city. To know more follow this link: https://www.eater.com/maps/best-restaurants-kolkata-calcutta-india-bengal

5. This is called the "Biswa-Bangla Gate" which is actually a rotating restaurant overlooking the modern part of Kolkata- Newtown. This region constitutes the IT hub of the city, surrounded by tall buildings and complex architecture. It also boasts a 480-acre-Urban park, a wax museum, and some posh hotels. 

6. Durga Puja: This is the grandest festival of Bengalis. Around this time, Kolkata suddenly attains an unmeasurable aura of magic and jolliness. Themed pandals are constructed to commemorate the victory of Goddess Durga over Mahishasur. People celebrate by visiting different pandals with family and friends, mostly eating outside during the four days of festivities and in general having a gala time. Busiest of professionals will adjust their schedules, non-residents will make time, school kids will pre-finish their homework, lovers will pre-plan outings, and, lastly scattered families unite just to visit Kolkata during this time. Even miles away, Durga Puja is celebrated by NRIs. 

   7. Great personalities: In case you stumbled upon these famous names, they were from Kolkata or were closely associated with the city...(By no means this list is exhaustive. It is impossible to list all the famous personalities in a single post.) I will keep complementing it from time to time.

                                                    

Swami Vivekananda. He was an Indian Hindu monk, philosopher, author, religious teacher, and the chief disciple of the Indian mystic Ramakrishna.  He was a key figure in introducing Hinduism and Yoga to the western world.  After his famous speech in the American parliament in Chicago in 1893, the American newspapers described him as, “an orator by divine right and undoubtedly the greatest figure at the Parliament”.

            

Rabindranath Tagore. Nobel Prize in Literature 1913 for Gitanjali ( Song Offerings). He was also the first non-European to receive this prize. His works celebrate the complexities of human relationships and the beauty of the simplicity of life and nature.

Satyendra Nath Bose. The founder of Bose statistics and Bosons (half of the fundamental particles in the standard model) is named after him. He proved the Planck Radiation formula without any ad-hoc assumptions or classical theory but using only pure mathematics. He closely collaborated with Albert Einstein and developed the theory of Bose-Einstein Condensate.

Jagadish Chandra Bose.  He was a biologist, physicist, and botanist. A pioneer in microwave optic research and the inventor of the crescograph.  A crater on the moon was named in his honor. 

Sarat Chandra Chattopadhyay. He was a Bengali novelist and short story writer of the early 20th century. Notable works: Srikanta, Choritrohin, Devdas, Parineeta, and Pother Dabi. His works have been translated into several Indian languages and also adapted into movies (Parineeta and Devdas).

Ashok Sen. Indian theoretical physicist. He is the winner of the Fundamental prize in Physics (2012) for his groundbreaking work on string theory and a Fellow of the Royal Society (1998, nominated by Stephen Hawking),  Dirac Medal (2014), ICTP prize (1989), Padma Shri (2001) and loads of other accolades. 

Amal Kumar Raychaudhuri. He was an Indian physicist, known for his research in general relativity and cosmology. Not at all well known even in our country but some of his theorems have earned noble prizes in black hole astrophysics such as Stephen Hawking's and Roger Penrose's (to read further: see  Penrose–Hawking singularity theorems). He is famous for formulating a method to handle singularities in the general theory of relativity (GTR) and ultimately showing that singularities are an artefact of GTR (the Raychaudhuri Equation or Raychaudhuri-Landau Equation). He shares credit with Lev Landau.

C. V. Raman.  Indian physicist was known for his work in the field of light scattering. Originally from Tamil Nadu, he was posted as an Assistant Accountant General in Calcutta (now Kolkata). Later he took up the prestigious Palit Chair of Physics position at the Calcutta University. It was at the Indian Association of Cultivation of Science (in Kolkata), Raman and his research group discovered the Raman Effect (Feb. 1928). He received the noble prize in physics in 1930 for that discovery. This made him the first Asian to receive the honor in any field of science. He was also inducted into the Royal Society ( 1924) but 40 years later he resigned.

Satyajit Ray: Indian director, screenwriter, documentary filmmaker, author, essayist, lyricist, magazine editor, illustrator, calligrapher, and music composer. Some of his most famous works are Pather Panchali, Apu Trilogy and Charulata. He is also the creator of the famous detective character- Feluda.  He received the Padma Shri in 1958, an honourary Academy Award in 1992 and the Legion of Honor in 1987. Many celebrated directors like  Martin Scorsese, Francis Ford Coppola, Akira Kurosawa and Chris Nolan have praised his work and claimed to have also been inspired by Ray. 

It does not die

July 2022:

A typical rainy day in Kolkata. Since dawn, it had been raining periodically leaving behind a damp setting across the city streets. I found myself standing in front of the College Street book market, with an umbrella in one hand and a list in the other.

Out of the very many iconic places in the city, College Street has seen the least amount of modification over the years. Nothing has changed except for the introduction of UPI payment (online payment) by shopkeepers now. The streets stay littered the same way, the jolly 'Jhal-muri' uncle never left his spot in front of Presidency University, and the 'ghugni' sold at College Square tasted exactly the same as it used to, three years ago. Time seems to have frozen in this place. The streets have survived the pandemic, the deadly 'Amphan', economic meltdown and so much more. But somehow the love for books among Bengalis has kept this place alive. 

My affair with College Street dates back to 2014. I was in 10th grade when my father brought me here to buy some academic books. I was fascinated by the concept of an open book market. It gave me a strange sense of freedom which I don't find at otherwise regular bookstores. It was like entering a giant library with no librarian, a library where silence is not the norm. During my undergraduate/graduate studies, I have visited College Street innumerable times. Sometimes to buy books, other times to meet my then girlfriend.

Legend has it that there isn't a book in this world that is not available at College Street. Who knew that day I would be putting this old adage to the strictest of tests? 

Among the seven or eight books listed, I was particularly looking forward to two books. La Nuit Bengali by Mircea Eliad and It does not die by Maitreyee Devi. I wouldn't call myself a romance reader but these two books were unique in some respects. To begin with, they are true accounts set in the colonial Calcutta (now called Kolkata) of the 1930s. Secondly, the part which attracted me the most was the backdrop behind these two novels. In La Nuit Bengali, Alan (represents Mircea Eliad), a 23-year-old Romanian engineer describes his romantic adventures involving a sixteen-year-old Maitreyee Devi. However, their love ends in tragedy. Forty years later, Maitreyee Devi finds out that a book has been addressed to her by Mircea Eliad. She then writes It does not die, where she accounts for her side of the entire affair and how she had perceived all that had transpired. In sorts, It does not die is a reply to La Nuit Bengali. 

Starting off from the right-hand side of the book market, I asked every shop if they had them. Except for one seller, no one had ever heard of those two books. I was shocked, I must say. I searched the entire right flank of books but with no success. Not even a silver lining. It was a tough pill to swallow considering I was standing at the legendary College street. Now I went to more branded stores like Deys, National Book Store, Kotha-o-Kahini, and others. None had them. I checked my phone, it was 13.30 pm. I had plans of catching the 14:10 Tarakeshwar local train from Howrah station but that seemed impossible now. On top of that, the sky became overcast. Nevertheless, I was already drenched in sweat so it would have made no difference. 

As I was making my way out of the busy market along the left flank, a very old bookshop on the right caught my eye. For a moment I stood there and murmured to myself-"let's give it one more try". I handed the owner, a list that had the names of the two books. Suddenly his eyes started scanning the cobweb-filled dusty bookshelf near the ceiling. Then he signaled the helper boy to pick out two books from the left. A minute later, I could see, resting in front of me, La Nuit Bengali and It does not die. "Ask, and it shall be given to you; seek, and ye shall find; knock, and it shall be opened unto you". College Street had passed its test, like always! Likewise, the bookshop owner was stunned to see someone come to buy these very rare books. He said they have been sitting on the shelf for over 6 years. I thanked him and then made my way toward College Square. 

The rain was now reduced to a light drizzle. I took this opportunity to sit on the benches and glance through the books. I could never fight this childish urge to read a few pages of a book, the moment it was bought.           

Reading about Maitreyee's and Alan's tragic love story brought back pain-ridden memories from my past. Suddenly every object in the surrounding made me reminiscent of that recent past. The stone pavement, benches, the lazy post-afternoon setting, and constant passage of the youthful crowd. La Nuit Bengali ends on an exceedingly sad note as Alan expresses his unfulfilled wish to see Maitreyee one last time before leaving India. Alas! it is not possible. For many reasons, I highly relate to it.  

Before leaving College Street,  I stood facing the Presidency University Main gate, soaking in all the evening chaos in front of me. Incessant clamour, people running hither and thither, yellow taxis and mini-buses managing their way out, and lovers trying their best to hold hands despite the commotion threatening to separate them. For a moment I thought I had come to meet someone, she would come out of that gate, and then we would return home together. The setting was perfect. Suddenly, a hand-pulled rickshaw wala yelled " রাস্তার মাজখানে দারিয়ে স্বপ্ন দেখছেন নাকি ??". I apologized and left.

The title of this blog is ripped off from Maitreyee Devi's book. "Unborn, eternal, everlasting, primeval, it does not die when the body dies".  'It'  does not die when the body dies.

Biswaraj Palit.

The Fire

 The Fire

The jungle was getting thicker, miles and miles a stretch;

Calm and eerie, murky and green,

The sun was nowhere to be seen,

And no shelter as far as eyes can fetch.

Not an animal, not an avian;

Just owls,

Scary growls,

And someone walking towards oblivion.

Rest was craved, by limbs not head;

With mud and blood underneath,

Not another feet,

I decided to lay in grassy bed.

 

As I lay, under the leafy sky;

With a bon fire, and

Some barbwire,

A cynical thought crossed by.

What if all the miles, 

Trodden black,

Becomes a mere useless act?

No way back, no way side

Forward is the only abide.

What if the woods never end?

Only gets darker, and

Further,

With every bend.

Only then I noticed My fire burn,

Sharp and bright, 

Trembling with might,

Assuring me nothing could harm.

Little a flame, as it is;

Doesn’t care,

How big its flare,

Dances in harmony at ease.

So, I learned a valid lesson;

As way,

leads to way,

Let thy fire inside never lessen.

When at length that day views,

Bringing reward, and

Mental accord,

Be sure to recall your muse.

Biswaraj Palit.

  9-6-2020

Our Dreams

 All of us dream. Or at least have dreamt sometime in the past, of a perfect future.  A future where we secure all that we ever wanted. Like a kid at an ice cream parlor, we garnish our cups with all kinds of flavor combinations. Livelihood in this make-believe castle of ours is devoid of adversities. But, alas! life isn’t your Myfroyoland. Time exposes the subtle non-linearities in fate that delay our achievements. Our roads become increasingly twisted and undulating, making us humble and sober in the process.

In the poem, “Our Dreams”, I take you through a figurative journey by introducing a metaphorical woman who represents the ‘woman of my dreams.’ I spend some fanciful moments. Soon chaos strikes in the form of thunder, which parts us. However, life needs to and must go on. Like a seafaring vessel fighting through gutsy waves, we have to move ahead with a clear goal in mind.

The poem may be perceived as slightly pessimistic in the sense that I never actually talk about achieving ‘the’ goal. The poem may end with a very unappealing/cliched climax, but I feel that it’s our journey through life that is the most memorable. Once a goal is reached, we are momentarily contented and soon move on to the next goal. The bottom line is the fact that life weaves its own stories as we tag along. Far in the future, when the time is right, we may be living the life that is perfect for us even without realizing much.

Rudyard Kipling quite eloquently expressed similar sentiments in his celebrated poem ‘ If ’. A few favorite lines are

If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;  

    If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim;  

If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster

    And treat those two impostors just the same;  

(Follow this link to read the full poem: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46473/if--- )

I agree with many that ' If ' is a very idealistic poem. A poem that is very difficult to emulate in real life. But even if we incorporate some of the mentioned advice if not all, we will find ourselves in a comfortable world. 

I hope you like my poem. Wishing you a gentle read!

Our Dreams

Over the terrace, against the ‘scape,

Who is she, that fix’d me in gape!

Stretched my sight, as far as I could,

What a beauty! There she stood.

Fair and slim, hair flying,

O lucky wind, and here ‘m dying.

Happy is the sun, the moon and the stars,

As their light has shown a beauty so scarce!

Turning her head, she caught my eyes,

Like the dead, my gaze was ice.

So, did the winds stop for a while?

Or was my soul numb and fragile?

A beam of smile crossed her lips,

Like a breeze bent row of pink tulips.

Wished we meet, before heavens retreat,

For without ‘tis like dying incomplete!

Soon some clouds, from nowhere came

Startled by thunder, our moments became.

Oft she ran to shelter from hail,

As my dreams were meant only for fails.

Not just me, for many of us,

Dreamt and tranced, a similar farce.

For reality is like, a sailor’s plight,

Sea whose ebbs or flows, it must fight.

Even though day promises many a sight,

Dusk sends men yearning for light.

But ships don’t bother, as long as water,

Which it can drink, but be only sober.

So, keep on sailing, mast held high

Toiling hard days, without a sigh!  

        

                                    Biswaraj Palit

21st Century Breakdown

One of my favorite poems - " Five ways to kill a man" by Edwin Brock ends in a very realistic manner. I quote the last stanza below : 

"These are, as I began, cumbersome ways

to kill a man. Simpler, direct, and much more neat

is to see that he is living somewhere in the middle 

of twentieth century, and leave him there."

Reading this poem, one embarks on a historical journey through time starting with the crucifixion of Jesus to the end of World War II. In the end, the poet dispenses with any traditional means to kill a man (or a woman or any living entity for that matter) by stating that living in the twentieth century is suffering in itself. One is exposed to mental dissatisfaction, diseases, and loads of other socio-economic problems. These are not 'cumbersome' ways in that it is not carried out by one person or a group or that its effect is instant. The entire humankind has played a role in each other's sufferings, leading to a slow, painful death. 

Edwin Brock had passed away before the start of the twenty-first century (in 1997). Nevertheless, the concluding stanza of his poem is still relevant in this century. I have tried my hand at writing a poem for the people thriving in the twenty-first century. The title of this blog has been naively borrowed from a famous song by Greenday. The title of my poem is Payback. 

Payback

Who could have told, long could one live?

Who could have thought, time had come to leave?

For a century later, with renewed vigor,

Worlds have revolted, wants us no longer.

For mankind had been a bitter germ,

With sins, worser than every turn.

Wars settled fences and nukes their might,

O’widowed wife, orphaned child and their plight!

Crimes akin wars, soul to soul,

Murders, abuse, and likes none could console.

Built both cars, swim and fly,

and many more things our thoughts defy.

So claimed the leader,” Nothing to fear,

Even if end is near,

Us shall eradicate

For science ‘twas adequate”.

Smirked in the corner, Mother Nature,

“Poor unthinking souls here,

You have done what you think enough

Let me show what methinks you deserve”

Thence came virus, all over the globe,

while some quakes started to unload.

Also, the ice, wanting to slide,

Sea was now a devil in disguise.

Bushfires unmuted for days past,

All locked with doors tightly cast.

Bays faced storms,

And fields with locust swarms.

As deaths go past unthought counts,

Hunger and cries, and tensions surmount.

The leader, whos’ plan seemed was clear,

Can now be seen, crying “Save O’lord us dear”

But He has seen, seen what may,

Only be called devils’ play.

Thus, we reap what we sow,

As all wait for wraths to forego.

                                                         Biswaraj Palit

Comment and let me know your thoughts!

Bye.

Physics poem

 The year 2020 was unique in so many ways. The whole world was busy fighting a never before seen virus outbreak. Streets were filled with ambulances and hospitals with dead bodies. Every sector, be it professional or academic, had come to a standstill. 

    Among all the chaos, my only solace was physics. I was rather enjoying the ample time available to read out-of-the-syllabi books (Feynman Lectures and MIT OCW), revisit unclear concepts, etc. One fine night, out of nowhere it struck me that I should write a poem on physics. The poem should touch upon all the great minds and their works that have shaped the world as we see it today. Thus I began:

Physics

Derived from Latin or Greek, some say

I rule the world from night to day.

Hardly a king, hardly a queen,

I was how Archimedes solved the gold thing.

All round and around the sun

Earth goes by Kepler’s cubic term

“No!” said The Church, “Its’ all flat,

Winged angels carry it on their back”.

Then came revolution, came a great law

Inverse square term became the new awe

Newton gave gravity, Coulomb gave electricity

Mustn’t forget how Hooke provided all their elasticity.

So asked Roentgen, what’s that green glow?

Later Marie and Pierre found it in Uranium, only low.

How charges behaved, which Maxwell knew,

In four compact equations easy and few.

But wheels of revolution sought to turn, 

Not of politics but scientific upturn

The atom was split, and so were the minds,

As electrons and protons were of another kind.

Planck came forward with an outrageous guess,

For blackbody radiation and something else.

None knew then, what quantization meant,

It took decades only after Schrödinger dreamt.

Parallel to these, ground was breaking,

For someone was working on speeds that were breathtaking.

Gravity was seemed quite wrong, to no one

But Einstein alone.

He gave a new theory, not much understood

Maybe after a century, someone would.

“Coming back to Hydrogen atom”, said Neils Bohr,

“Why not stationary orbits and solve Rutherford”.

Cat’s life hangs in balance with equal probabilities, claimed Erwin

“What are you getting at”? Einstein grins.

But came an equation, like nothing before,

Only a new mathematics could support it anymore

Determinism started to gather dust,

Now position will be certain at the momentum’s cost.

Quantum theory started becoming the story,

Along came many writing their own theory.

The atom went larger as they delved deeper,

Finding leptons, hadrons, bosons and all peculiar

Far in the east, a poor physicist,

Stopped in his tracks with a crazy insist.

A new kind of matter, then opened its gate,

They call it The Bose-Einstein condensate.

Fundamental forces named along,  

Gravitational, Electromagnetic, Weak and Strong.

As time went by, complexity arose,

So came Feynman, simplified in a prose.

His famous diagram was all one needed,

To realize how subatomic particles, did it

Lot about miniscule, what about outer space,

Did someone figure the relativity case?

Reached the invisible ripple and made a noise,

Coming from a black hole to LIGO’s sophisticated toys.

Followed by a greater news, only a blurry image,

Dark hole in the center, disk was orange.

So many scientists, so many stories,

I have failed to tell each of their glories.

So, forgive me all those,

Whose works I could not compose. 

Then asked a layman,” you must stop”,

Physics replied,” not until my breath drops”.

                                                                    Biswaraj Palit

9-6-2020

 

When I finished writing, I had only sent it to my then-girlfriend. I had no intentions of posting it on social media or any other platform. Delighted by the poem, she insisted that I post it on Facebook. Thus, it already exists on my FB wall long before I publish it through this blog. 

Thank you for the patient read. Hope you all like it. Let me know what you think of it in the comments.

Bye.