Back from Kolkata

natasha chanda acharya

Back from Calcutta. So I thought, rather than starting a new post, I might as well post here. It was a hectic but wonderful trip. Four days of Wedding, meeting reletives, food, food, and more food.

I was very aprehensive about everyone saying Calcutta has changed, and I didn't really want it to change... but i am glad to report that even though the infrastructure has really improved, the economy is looking us and all that, the people are the same. I pray and hope that that never changes.

I remember one of my first impressions. We went to gariahat to pick up some kurtas. We were trying to park the car in one of the lanes, and there was this man on a bicycle, who needed to move aside for us to park properly. while we were waiting, he just gave us a look. And that look for me said it all. All that Calcutta has managed to retain. It was a mixture of pride and disdain and "don't think just because you have a car you can rule the road", and "i will move in my own sweet time, if you can't deal with it, too bad." I can't describe the sudden rush of feelings that invaded me in that one moment. A sense of amusement, belonging, all is well with the world, Calcutta will never change, all mixed together. And at that moment, I knew, the soul of Calcutta remains the same. Thank God for small mercies.

And now, my big meet up with Somnath and company. I didn't post any msg in the Calcuta meetup thread because i wasn't sure when i will be able to snatch some time for a meet up. So we decided to keep it small. Really wish now that i had called Indiaguide and the others. I don't know when I will go to Cal again.

I told Somnath that we couldn't do without Peter Cat and Chelo Kababs, so we decided to meet there for a Saturday lunch. I had already met the lovely Sree when she had come to Bangalore. Met Somnath and his totally adorable sister. I had brought my friend Simi along for moral support. We ordered for Chicken marakesh and chelo kababs, and threw bird flew to the wind. Delicious as ever. Peter Cat bar is unfortuately not as well stocked as it used to be at one time. anyway, we broke the ice by exchanging stories of laddakh and Srinagar. eventually and invariably got around to discussing a more fascinating topic by the name of Jyotirmoy. We all came to a consensus that there is some controvercial mystery around him that we need to unravel. Had a really interesting lunch, and had to almost push people out of the AC to walk down to Coffee Pai. Somnath also had to keep dragging the ladies out of every conceivable "SALE" in sight. Of course he didn't suceed in preventing a few purchases by the end of the evening. I will leave the details of the lunch and coffee for Somnath to describe. Keeping with tradition, I hollered at the waiters. Eventually after a lovely evening, i presume, a lighter wallet, and a heavy heart, again i presume, Somnath bid me adieu.

Well, New Market, Gariahat, Dakhinapan, Swabhumi, I visited all. Met the people, and fell in love with the ciy all over again. A litle abrupt end to my memoir, but i have to rush now. Over to you, Somnath.

Paagla Dashu

Hi!

Abaar se esechhe phiriya!

jyotirmoy

I dont know how many people have really read Pagla Dashu, a great collection of hillarious stories. In a drama Pagla Dashu had a small role which ends soon after his so called demise, not satisfied he emerges again with this famous line which means " I have come back again"
Do tell about your other stories, the one where you were locked up in the Physics lab!

And now you Natasha what is the mystery about me? Somnath has seen me so did many, some are even tired of me I suppose.

Paagla Dashu

Paagla Dashu

Jatin and His Sandals
Sukumar Ray
Translated from Bengali by Zinia Mitra


’Jatin’s father got him a new pair of sandals and warned him, “If you tear your sandals this time you shall wear them torn.”

Every month Jatin needed a new pair of footwear. His clothes tore after a few days wear. He wasn’t careful about anything. All his books had torn covers, the sides were creased, his slate had a crack from the top to the bottom. The chalk always fell out of his hands; as a result, they were all tiny broken pieces. Another of his bad habits was to chew the ends of his pencils. Due to repeated chewing they had come to resemble groundnut shells. When his class teacher saw them, he asked, “Don’t you get proper meals at home?”
With his new sandals on, Jatin was very careful the first day lest they should snap. He climbed down the stairs slowly; he crossed the raised door-frame very carefully, heedful that he wouldn’t stumble. But that was all. After a few days he was his same old self again. Forgetting all about his sandals, he rushed down the staircase and stumbled against the stones. All these occurrences continued. Thus, even before a month was gone his sandals started ripping at the front. Jatin’s mother advised, “Call a cobbler and get them stitched in time or else they will be finished”. But the cobbler wasn’t called and the soles gaped wider.
There was only one thing that Jatin cared for—that was his kite. He would carefully mend the kite that caught his fancy with patches and make it last as long as possible. At playtime he mostly flew kites. Because of his kite he had to bear being chased out of the kitchen. If his kite was frayed, he’d barge into the kitchen demanding glue. If he wanted to add a tail to his kite or needed a pair of scissors, he’d rummage through his mother’s sewing box. Once he was out flying kites he’d forget all about his meals! That day Jatin was rather scared while he was returning home from school. He had torn his new clothes while climbing a tree. After putting down his books, he tried to push his feet into his sandals, but he found them too torn and beyond repair. But all these thoughts vanished completely from his mind as he climbed down the stairs. He jumped down two to three steps at a time. In the end the sandal ripped open so wide that it seemed to grimace with all its teeth out. The moment he jumped over the last three, the ground underneath his feet slid away and his torn shoes whisked him across the sky to an unknown land.
When the sandals finally stopped, Jatin saw that he had reached a strange place. There were many cobblers sitting around. When they saw Jatin they approached him, took off his shoes and started brushing off the dust carefully. One amongst them, a kind of leader, said to Jatin, “I hear that you are very naughty. Look what you’ve done to your pair of shoes. Look at them, they are nearly dead.” Having regained his nerve by then, Jatin rejoined, “Does a shoe have a life for it to be nearly dead?” The cobblers said “What else? What do you think? When you run with your shoes on, aren’t they hurt? They are. That is why they squeak. When you were rushing up and down your stairs, the pressure of your legs had sliced his sides. That is exactly why he has brought you to us. We are in charge of the things that belong to all the boys nearby. When they do not take proper care of their belongings, we give them the necessary lessons.” The cobbler handed him back his shoes and said, “Take it! Start mending.” Jatin was furious, he retorted, “I do not mend shoes, cobblers do that.” The cobbler smiled and said, “Is this your country? Do you think that if you say you won't, you are excused? Here is the needle, the thread— start stitching.”
Jatin’s anger had subsided by then and he was afraid. He said, “I do not know how to stitch.” The cobbler replied, “I will show you how to do it.” Jatin, now scared, sat to stitch his shoes. The needle pricked his fingers; the nape of his neck ached from bending over the shoes too long. After a day-long struggle he completed only one from the pair. Then he pleaded with the cobbler, “I shall do the other one tomorrow, I am hungry.” The cobbler said, “What do you mean? Unless you complete your work you will neither get food nor will be allowed to sleep. The other one is still left. Once you finish that you’ll have to learn how to walk properly so that you don’t torture shoes again. Then you have to go to the tailors to stitch your clothes. Then we shall see to the other things that you have broken.”
By then tears were rolling down Jatin’s eyes. He somehow managed to stitch the second one. Thank God! This one wasn’t so badly torn. Now the cobblers took him to a five-storied building. A staircase ran from the ground to the topmost floor. They made Jatin stand below the staircase and said, “Go, climb the five floors up and come down. Mark our words, only one stair at a time.” Jatin climbed up the five floors and climbed down. They said, “Not satisfactory! You have leaped over two steps thrice, you have jumped five times and you have leaped over three steps twice. Climb again. Remember! No jumping. No leaping over steps.” After having climbed up and down so many steps, Jatin’s legs were in pain. He tried no more tricks. He slowly climbed up and down the stairs. They said, “Not bad. Let’s go to the tailors.”
Then they took him to an open field where there were only tailors sitting and stitching clothes. When they saw Jatin they asked, “What have you torn?” They looked at his dhoti and said, “Look, you’ve torn a good portion of this.” The tailors shook their heads in disapproval. “Sheer injustice. Sheer injustice. Start stitching. Quick.” Jatin had no courage to refuse. He took the needle and thread and began to stitch. He had pierced through the cloth only twice when the tailors shouted, “What? Is this what you call stitching? Start over, start over.” Every time he pierced the cloth with his needle they shouted, “Start over, start over.” In the end Jatin began to cry; he said, “I am very hungry, take me home; I shall never tear clothes or break umbrellas.” At his words they started laughing; they said, “Are you hungry? We have many of your edible items.” They brought him some of their pencils that they used to mark on their clothes. “You like to chew pencils, eat these, we have nothing else.”
They left him and went back to their work. Tired and exhausted, Jatin lay on the ground crying. Just then something buzzed in the sky. The kite that Jatin had patched landed headlong on his lap. It whispered, “You have taken good care of me, that is why I have come to help you. Hold on to my tail. Quick.” Jatin held on to the tail quickly. The kite took him up with a swish. Hearing the noise the tailors came running and conspired to cut the thread of the kite. All of a sudden Jatin and his kite, holding on to each other began falling out of the sky.
Down, down— just when the ground banged against his head, Jatin woke up with a jolt. God knows what had happened to the kite, but Jatin saw that he was lying beneath his staircase with a terrible pain in his head.
After a few days of suffering, Jatin recovered. His mother would say, “After falling from the staircase my son has become very weak. He is no longer so energetic. He doesn’t rush or leap any longer; how else can his pair of shoes last for four months?” The truth is—Jatin has not yet forgotten the cobblers and the tailors.

Hyderabadi

Great story! Just read it out loud to my boys!
Where can we find more (tranlations)? I am certain the original Bengali version has, how shall I say, all the real flavors of the language and none of them lost in translation.

I find that much of the original meaning/flavor is lost when I compare original Telugu writings to the translated ones .

Thanks for sharing.

natasha chanda acharya

Lovely post, PD.
Are there online translations of Sukumar Ray?

Jyoti, What is a mystery if it ceases to be mystrious?
Of course, people have seen you,
but I didn't question your identity, did I?
Don't worry too much about it.
You know very well we are totally about you.

Paagla Dashu

2. The King Of Bombagarh

(Translation Follows)

TRANSLATION
(Adapted For Rhyming in English)

In the land of Bombagarh
The customs are peculiar.
The king, for instance, advocates
Gilded frames for chocolates.
The queen, who seldom goes to bed
Straps a pillow round her head.
The courtiers- or so I'm told-
Turn cartwheels when they have a cold:

... The King's old aunt- an autocrat-
Hits pumpkins with her cricket bat
While Uncle loves to dance Mazurkas
Wearing garlands strung with hookaha.
All of this, though mighty queer,
Is natural in Bombagarh.

(Translated by Late Satyajit Ray, Son of Sukumar Roy)

Paagla Dashu

The Suitable Groom

Sukumar Roy

Heard your daughter's getting married,
From Posta, the news I carried.
Gangaram, the groom you chose,
I wish to describe, the quality he owes.
Now listen, listen, Hark, Hark!
His complexion is awfully dark.
His facial cutting, is somewhat round,
Rather an owl, just to sound.
Education? Oh, just wait!
Not so bright under any rate.
Nineteen times he had to pluck,
Till he left for his rotten luck.
Financial career? Poor indeed,
Somehow makes both ends meet.
And his brothers who are there,
Rather inhuman, know you dear.
One is stubborn, the other insane,
Quite a troupe of hollow men.
Oh, I missed the other two
Real gems are they, not to rue.
One was smart, but now in prison,
Forged bank notes, (So petty a reason!)
The youngest one in profession grand
Earns five bucks from a rustic band.
And Gangaram -- is real meek,
Weak, feeble, and always sick.
But they are royal, Is that clear?
Tell you, they are King Kansha's heirs.
And Shyam Lahiri of Banagram,
Is somehow kin to Gangaram.
Overall the groom is not so bad,
Cheer up, cheer up, don't be sad.

Translated by Ruchira Ghosh
The Bengali version is "Sat Patro"

natasha chanda acharya

Hey, hey, start a new thread on Sukumar Roy pleeeease!
Then we can go on and on.
maybe we can start with raam gorurer chana, haste tader mana!

jyotirmoy

Yes Pagla please start a new thread, these are Gems & should be read by all. I dont think myself competent enough to attempt translation.

jyotirmoy

Yes Hydearabadi translations in many cases can not do justice to the nuances of the original. The ones posted by Pagla are done by great talents so you still get a lot of the original flavour.
I can not think of translating my Sibram Kaku's stories because that is just impossible. I feel sad at times that I could not share these with many people.

somnath

Controversy !!!! Come on ……… that’s some fun only. Actually, this is related to some personal matter but as it has come public I must clear some doubts. While Natasha was busy with the order, she asked me about the drinks and I preferred non-alcoholic one. I also said that there must be another person to enjoy some hard drinks - wish someone like Jyoti da (that certainly doesn’t mean that he is an addicted person but when he was in Kolkata we went to Silver Sand to enjoy and celebrate the meetup). Even the same is conveyed to Jyoti da on telephone. Come on, I am not ready to stamp as ‘Controversy’ .

That was really a hot. Temperature was well above the normal, during this part of the year and it was Simi, not ready to go out side the Peter Cat before 5 pm but Natasha was always coming with some crazy ideas like “lets go to Outtram ghat to practice air gun on innocent balloons” or “lets go to maidan, we’ll have oranges there”. Can you believe this? Someone is planning to go to have some oranges in the scorching sun and under the blue!!!! Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce Natasha (one of its kind ).

Anyway, the prime responsibility to select the menu was successfully shouldered by Natasha and cheers to her. Natasha and her friend Simi described their Ladakh tour and let me tell you, the real controversy was right there. Friends, hope you all can remember that Natasha snapped some Asses and tried to make them wild horse. Similarly both of them are not ready to accept that they have seen some goats but still trying to get some consolation.

I promise, if I am able to become Finance minister, I’ll impose ban on discount offer. God knows, why ladies (well, not everyone. There are exceptions – to prove the rule) behave so strangely if they see any discount offer!!!! It is like they are in the magnetic field!!!! Ohhhhh……
Wait wait, this is not the end of the story. After the coffee break at Coffee Pi, Simmi thought she should purchase a sunglass to protect her eyes. – noble idea but God save those poor salesman of Himalaya Optics. After 15 minutes of extensive trial she realized that actually she doesn’t like those round shaped glasses . Anyway, after more than half an hour we managed to bring down the choice between 4 (thanks to Natasha, she tried her best). Now, she is not ready to trust our taste , so, asked that salesman to suggest one. Finally, we did it and time to go back. But who knows that another strong magnetic field is waiting for me at Bata shoe shop which is situated on my way back but that’s a different story.

Sorry we don’t have any meetup pix. And I am really sorry that I am unable to call other IMers as I don’t have their tel nos. anymore, my cell phone is lost (but I am able to retain my no).

- Somnath

__________________
Learn as if you were going to live forever. Live as if you were going to die tomorrow.

* My Travel Pix...

jyotirmoy

Very nicely written Somnath but there may be some one growling with gritted teeth!
Phew the controversy is over.

somnath

Now, the beginning of another controversy …………
WHO is that ?

Jyoti da, hope you are insured ?