Puja wishes

Kid-Zone: Featuring Shivangi Biswas

Byomkesh Bakshi Thriller, Part III (The last Part)

---3---

The next day on the breakfast table Byomkesh said, ‘let’s go to see Sri Sri Pronobanad Swami.’
I was anyway a bit sad since I heard Bhupesh Babu’s story, now as I heard this, I lost all my energy immediately.
‘Do we really need to visit him?’ I said
‘Well, if you want your name to stay in his list of his suspects then you don’t need to go.’ Prompt came Byomkesh’s reply.
So we left for the police station, when we were on the first floor landing we could see Bhupesh Babu’s room was locked, he surely had gone to his office. Then we saw Ram Babu and Banamali Babu coming out of their room, in their regular office outfit, but they suddenly took a u-turn and went back to the room as they saw us.
Byomkesh looked at me and smiled meaningfully.
Shib Babu was writing something in his daily accounts book, the moment he saw us, he jumped up and came close. He then said in a surprised voice,’ Byomkesh Babu, you are back! You are back! I am sure you’ve heard about the murder. What a trouble, now the police is harassing me.’
‘Not only you, they are harassing Ajit as well.’ Said Byomkesh.
‘Yes, yes! Brown Stole! Meaningless! Please see, if you can do something, something!’
‘Ya, Let me see.’ Said Byomkesh and walked towards the main doorway.
When we were on the main road, Byomkesh suddenly stopped and said, ‘Come Ajit, let us have a close look through the lane.’
This was the lane through which the ‘brown stole guy’ fled after shooting. It was a very narrow lane, not more than 3-4 feet wide. Byomkesh entered first and I followed him, he was observing every brick of the lane and was walking very slow. Now god only knows what was in his mind! And what were the chances of getting some clue here, after 3 days of the murder!
The window of Natavar Naskar’s room was closed. Byomkesh reached near and started scanning the ground – every inch of it. The window was around four feet high from the ground level – if opened; one could easily shoot someone inside the room from this place.
What’s that?
Following Byomkesh’s finger I could see a star like grayish mark on the ground, just below the window. It should be around 3 inches by diameter and seemed at least a couple of days old.
What kind of a mark is it? I asked, but Byomkesh kneeled down on the ground without any reply and started smelling the mark very closely.
What are you doing? I almost screamed.
‘Oh! Just smelling, dear.’ He replied and got up from the ground.
‘What is it?’ I asked again, ‘you have to smell it to know, Ajit!’
‘Oh! No…!’
‘Then let us proceed towards the police station.’
As we started walking, I looked at his face to understand whether he could find a clue or not, but could not make out anything from his expressionless face.
Inspector Pronob was in his cabin. He looked quite good though his height was short, must be around 5.3”.
He was very surprised to see Byomkesh, but pretended to be humble and said, ‘ Oh! Byomkesh Babu, how lucky I am to have you in my office on a morning! He He!’
Byomkesh said, ‘Oh! Even I am so lucky! You know why? They say – you meet a short person in the morning and you go lucky for the whole day.’
Pronob Babu was not ready for such a counter attack, he tried to be serious and said, ‘ is there anything that I can do for you?’
Nothing much, but I brought Ajit along, as I wanted you to know that he had not fled from the town.
Pronob Babu wanted to have a smile on his face, but couldn’t help much as Byomkesh decided to be real rude today. He went on, ‘I don’t know how the commissioner would react if he learns that you’ve restricted Ajit’s movements, but I know as per our country’s law, this kind of an unlawful deed of a police officer is punishable. Anyway I came here only to know whether you have got any new information about the case or not.
Pronob Babu thought for a while, perhaps he was having a quick thought about should he also be rude to Byomkesh in the given situation or should he not! Finally he said quite softly, ‘Byomkesh Babu, do you know - what’s the population of this city?
Never counted, but that should be nearing 50 lacs, now.
Well! Do you think it’s easy to find a man with a brown stole among these many people? Can you do it?
Yes! I can, if I have all the information, you have already got.
Well! Though I should not be doing this but then, I think I can break the rules for you.
Great! Then tell me could you trace any of Natavar Babu’s kins folk?
No! We had advertised in all the main dailies, but didn’t hear from anyone.
What does the post mortem report say?
The bullet damaged his heart and it was shot by the same pistol we found.
Anything else?
Hmmm, he was quite healthy, only had a little cataract problem.
What about search for the owner of the pistol?
Well, this was an American military pistol, any ‘chorbazar’ shop would offer you one, so there’s actually no way to trace the owner.
Any specific thing that you found in Natavar Babu’s room is worth mentioning?
Yes! They are all there, on that corner table; you can have a look if you want, - a diary, a bank pass book, a copy of a court decision and some cash, that’s it.
Byomkesh went to the table, I didn’t move, as I knew Inspector Pronob was capable enough to insult me and if he did that, it would be very tough for me to digest.
I could see Byomkesh checked the bank passbook thoroughly, flipped through the diary, read through all the stamp papers of the court decision and then said, ‘Yes, I am done!’
Inspector Pronob was back to his own form, ‘so Byomkesh Babu, now you know the murderer’s name, address everything, right?’
Yes indeed! Said Byomkesh in a very sharp voice.
Pronob Babu pretended to be very surprised and said, ’what are you saying! How could that be so fast! Your IQ level must be very high! Now just tell me the name and address of this person and let me arrest him immediately.’
I could see Byomkesh’s face muscles hardened as he said very slowly, ‘That I won’t tell you, Sir! Government pays you for that job, so you’ll have to crack the case, but yes! I can give you a clue for sure – check out the lane.’
You think I’ll get some footprints there, He He!
Not really, but a little more than that, sir!
Oh! One more thing, in a couple of days I am going to Katak for some work and Ajit is going to accompany me, stop him if you can, come Ajit.
As we were stepping out of the police station, I couldn’t just resist asking Byomkesh, ‘Now you know, who is it? Right?’
Byomkesh nodded his head, ‘yes I knew it much before we came here, but inspector Pronob is quite a foolish felow, he would never be able to crack it.’
‘Who is it?’ Do we know him?’ I asked with all my breath.
‘Later Ajit! But for now, have this piece of information that Natavar Babu was a black mailer,
and yes! Do one thing, go back home, I’d have to go to Chowringhee, I think Godfrey Brown has an office out there which might give me an information – See you.’
Byomkesh returned home at 1.30 pm, finished his lunch and said, ‘Ajit, you’ve got a job – not much, all you need to do is to invite Ram Babu, Banamali Babu and Bhupesh Babu for tea today evening. We all will sit over here and chat for some time.’
All right, but why did you go to Godfrey Brown?
There was a copy of a certain ‘court decision’ among Natavar Babu’s stuff; which mentioned around seven years back two brothers Rashbehari and Banbehari Biswas worked for Godfrey Brown’s Dhaka branch, they misappropriated company funds and were jailed for the offence.
Natavar Babu had arranged a copy of that court decision. And from his diary I found that he was taking money from Rashbehari and Banbehari Biswas on a regular basis.
Godfrey Brown’s Kolkata Office confirmed that theft in their Dhaka branch, which left with no doubts about the fact, that Natavar Babu was black mailing them.
But where would you find Rashbehari and Banbehari Biswas?
Hey! We don’t need to go far dear! You’ll find them here only – Room No. 3, 1st floor.
What! You mean Ram Babu and Banamali Babu?
Right Ajit! Actually your guess was very close, just that they were not cousins but real brothers.
But how would they kill Natavar Babu, when he was shot they were…
Byomkesh raised his right hand and said, ‘wait, wait my dear friend, the whole story will be served with the evening tea.’
Bhupesh Babu came first. He was dressed in a very nice silk Panjabi and dhoti. He also had a very expensive grey colored woolen shawl on his shoulder and a special smile on his face.
‘Can we play cards also?’ he asked with a broader smile.
Oh sure! We can arrange, if you guys would like to play.
Sometime later Rambabu and Banamali Babu also came; both of them were wearing black coats over their dhotis, and had their cautious eyes moving everywhere.
Byomkesh welcomed them very warmly and started very light hearted conversations and shared funny stories to make everyone feel at ease.
We finished our tea and snacks in half an hour and then Ram Babu lit a cigar, Byomkesh also lit one cigarette and gave Bhupesh babu one and then suddenly he said, ‘Banabehari Babu, why don’t you have one too?’
‘I don’t smoke’, he said and then suddenly his face became absolutely pale…and he uttered – ‘my name…..’
I know both of your real names – Rashbehari and Banbehari Biswas, and I also know that you two are brothers.
It was an unbearable silence which covered the room, Byomkesh walked up to his chair and sat down, ‘Natavar Naskar was black mailing you, and you two were paying him quite an amount every month…’ said Byomkesh, as the two brothers were sitting like stone curved statues.
Byomkesh lit another cigarette, took a long drag, sent two smoke rings in the air and started again, ‘Natavar babu was quite a villain, when he was in Dhaka he was an agent by profession but black mailing was his second occupation – he would never leave an opportunity of black mailing if he could even smell one. For misappropriation of company money when you brothers went to jail seven years back, he could foresee a chance of earning money and collected a copy of the ‘court decision’.
Then the partition happened, Dhaka was no more a profitable place for Natavar Naskar and he came to Kolkata. But he was new here, didn’t know anyone so the chances of his legal or illegal incomes became very low. He rented a room in this building and started living a very low key life with his earlier savings. One day he suddenly saw both of you here, and recognized. Then he followed you and came to know that you guys are working for a bank with pseudo names. His problem was solved; he could see easy money coming to him and of course you guys ended up being a regular source of money for him.
Life was going on like this, but you two were so unhappy, as there were no way to avoid Natavar Naskar, the only way out was his death.
Byomkesh stopped after this long narration, and immediately Banamali Babu cried out like a child, ‘ Oh! Byomkesh Babu, please do believe, we didn’t kill Natavar Babu, when he was shot we were in Bhupesh Babu’s room…’
‘That’s true,’ said Byomkesh, stretched out his feet to sit in a more relaxed way, took a long drag and said, ‘well! I am not so bothered about finding out the murderer, you know! That’s police’s headache. But you two work for a bank and if history repeats there, then I’d have to disclose your real identities.
Now Rashbehari Babu or as we knew him - Ram Babu said, ‘No Byomkesh Babu, that would never happen again. We had made a mistake, got punished for that, and now I can promise, the same would never happen.
‘Good! Then I and Ajit will also be quite, what about you Bhupesh Babu?
Bhupesh Babu smiled and said, ‘Oh! I’ll also be quite about this and will never utter a word.’
No one spoke any word for a long time after this, and then Ram Babu got up and said, ‘we will never forget your generosity, may we go now, I am not feeling well.’
‘Come,’ Byomkesh went to see them off; when he came back I saw Bhupesh Babu was smiling at Byomkesh. As Byomkesh smiled back to him Bhupesh Babu said, ‘well, I didn’t know that Ram Babu & Banamali Babu were connected to Natavar Naskar, but I think, whatever you’ve said till now, was the curtain raiser, you’ve understood the whole story, right?
Byomkesh took a deep breath and said, ‘well, not everything, but yes most of it!’
Bhupesh Babu said, great then! You start; I’ll only help if you need any.
Byomkesh gave a cigarette to Bhupesh Babu, lit one for himself and then looked at me, ‘the first hitch I had after reading your write up, was about the sound – A pistol would never make such a big a sound, that could be of a rifle or a chocolate bomb, but we always knew that Natavar Naskar was shot by a pistol.
You had discovered similarities between Ram Babu and Banamali Babu and I observed that they were trying to hide something, they also used to visit Natavar Naskar which actually made me more interested about them.
But when the big sound was heard, they both were in Bhupesh Babu’s room.
I tried visualizing the series of events in my mind, it went like this:
Bhupesh Babu was in his room around 6.25 pm, Ram Babu and Banamali Babu came but Ajit was getting late, within a couple of minutes Ajit’s slipper’s sound ca,me from the stairs. Bhupesh Babu got up and opened the window and immediately there was this big ‘Bang’, which apparently came from the lane below. Ram Babu and Banamali Babu went to the window in haste; Bhupesh Babu shouted, “There, There!! – running through the lane, could you see? There….. that man with a brown stole…”
Many people were on the main road, passing by the lane. Ram Babu and Banamali Babu saw one of them and thought he was running out of the lane. They thought Bhupesh Babu was right, and believed that they also saw the man with a brown stole.
It’s actually not very tough to create that kind of an illusion with a good effort. Later the pistol was found on the window frame of Natavar Naskar’s room. But why would the murderer leave his weapon behind? –there was no logic for such a stupid act. And exactly at that point of time this thought stroke my mind – that there must be something behind this eyewash of the apparently simple & natural situation.
I had a strange feeling that the murderer surely lives in this building.
The servant – Haripada, had heard someone talking in Natavar’s room around 6.00 pm – now if that person was the murderer, he must have tried to make an alibi for himself and for that he must have murdered Natavar 15-20 minutes before the ‘apparent time’.
But who would that be? Ram Babu, Banamali Babu, Shivkali Babu or someone else. I didn’t have any clue about the motive, but one thing was clear that everyone but Shivkali Babu had his alibi.
My mind remained clouded, nothing was getting clear. One thing I observed that Natavar Naskar’s room was exactly below Bhupesh Babu’s room, and the window through which Natavar Babu was shot, was also just below the window Bhupesh Babu opened that day, but I missed out on one little thing – a cracker; a special kind of cracker which you throw on the ground hard and it goes – ‘Bang’.
In the morning when we were on the way to the police station, I thought of checking out the lane once, and Oh yes! I could find out this interesting mark on the ground, very close to the window. As I smelled it I got the smell of gunpowder – that was it – the blurred picture got clarity in my mind.
An alibi was designed very intelligently. But who could have done that?
None other than Bhupesh Babu, because he only opened the window, Ram Babu and Banamali Babu came only after the sound was heard.
On that day Bhupesh Babu went down at 6.00pm. The pistol was arranged earlier. He entered Natavar’s room, introduced himself and shot him, and then he opened the lane side window, kept the pistol on the lower window frame and came back to his room. He had already planned to have a strong alibi because he was not sure if someone had seen him. As he was waiting in his room Ram Babu and Banamali Babu came to play bridge, but Ajit was getting late, so they kept waiting.
Then Bhupesh Babu heard Ajit’s footsteps on the stairs – he was ready with the small marble size cracker in his palm. With the excuse of suffocation he went to open the window and after opening it, he threw the cracker on the ground below. The sound came from the lane was audible enough for all. Ram Babu and Banamali Babu ran towards the window and Bhupesh Babu showed them the fictitious ‘brown stole’ guy running away.
After this, Bhupesh Babu had to do nothing. The dead body was found in the natural process and the police was as confused as expected.
Byomkesh stopped, Bhupesh babu was listening to Byomkesh’s narration with all his concentration, now Byomkesh asked, ‘any error?’
Bhupesh Babu shrugged his shoulders and said said, ‘No! Byomkesh Babu, not a single one. Actually the error was at my end, I never thought that you’d come back so early; rather I thought – by the time you’d be back, the case would drowned under the chores of life.
Byomkesh smiled, ‘only two questions are still unanswered in my mind:
One - what was your motive
Two – how did you do the ‘sound proofing’ for the real sound of the pistol? Even if the door was closed the pistol’s ‘Bang’ would surely be heard in and around the building – I am sure, you took some kind of a precaution!
‘Let me answer your second question first,’ – Bhupesh Babu took the shawl in his hands and opened it in front of us and we could clearly see little holes which appeared in many of its folds. ‘I shot him through the layers of this shawl which filtered much of the sound.’
‘Hmmmm,’ Byomkesh nodded his head and then said, ‘well, though I guessed the first answer after you showed us your son’s photograph, but I’d prefer your version of that part of the story.
For a moment Bhupesh Babu’s facial expressions became very wild, but he spoke in a very gentle voice, ‘I showed you my son’s photograph, because I knew you’d crack the case and that’s why I tried to give a hint of my sad story to you, as the backdrop.
The day communal riot broke out in Dhaka Natavar Naskar kidnapped my son from his school. He came to me in the evening and said, he would get my son back home, if only I pay him 10,000 Rupees. But I didn’t have that much of money – I gave him whatever I had, and all my wife’s jewelry. He took everything and promised to return my son, but we only kept on waiting and waiting – he never came back to us. My wife died out of this shock.
Many years later when I was in Kolkata, one day I suddenly saw him and then…
Byomkesh interrupted him, ‘that’s okay! You don’t need to say it all, Bbhupesh Babu ! we can understand.
After a while Bhupesh Babu said, ‘so, what do you want to do with me now?’
Byomkesh looked up at the ceiling for some time and said, ‘our literary legend – Sarat Chandra Chatterjee somewhere mentioned, ‘ killing a crow can never be a punishable offence…’
I believe, the thought is equally applicable for ‘vultures’, May god be with you Bhupesh Babu.’

See the July & Aug issue
for the previous parts of the story

Original story : HeNyalir Chhondo
By Sharadindu Bondyopadhyay
English recreation : Victor K. Ghoshe
April 2010

The Enchanting Eighties By Victor K Ghoshe

The Enchanting Eighties

In many ways the decade of the 80s was one of the most interesting periods in the history of Indian Socio-economic scenario. During this period our economy broke loose from a state of stagnancy that had persisted for much of the two previous decades. The rate of growth achieved was high, not only by Indian standards, but comparable to that of star performers like Korea, Indonesia, Malaysia, Thailand and Turkey.
Unlike during the first three five year plans, growth during this period was not externally induced. It came naturally, in response to a relaxation in policy-based constraints to growth.
The 80s observed positive changes in - demand, productivity, costs & prices, investment, employment, structural change and the balance of trade…..Largely saying the 80s were the first platform for Indian middle class, where people started dreaming, started believing that they can also have a piece of the ‘Good-life Pie’.
Well on another side Bollywood was truly inspiring during this period - Samita Patil was still alive, Dilip Kumar still in action, the Big B showed no signs of grey hair, Naseeruddin Shah was in his prime, Om Puri was introduced with Half Truth…arrr…I mean ‘Ardh Satya’, Pran was still the bad guy to beat…..you got the idea…I believe!
Richard Attenborough’s Gandhi released and Gandhi became an International star. Later the movie would be shown on Doordarshan every Independence Day from many many years to come.

Doordarshan went national in the early 80s. Salma Sultan was reading News. Sitting in front of T.V sets, people used to reply back to her Namaskars. Ustad Bismillah Khan was on the shehnai every Independence day. Along with national broadcast came: the Antennas on the T.V set and on the rooftops. Color T.V came to India in 1982 with the Asian Games held in Delhi. Then we had serials like Hum Log of 1984 and some years later we got the megadrama: Ramanand Sagar’s Ramayan ran from 1987 to 1988. Soon came Mahabharat that ran from 1988 to 89 - the story of 23 day war was told the entire year and people developed an interest in history. A serial named Kille ka Rahasya made many people claustrophobic. I still remember our Sunday 11.30 am slots were illuminated by a ‘film clip & chat show’ called Show Theme where celebrities from the film industry would talk about a theme and show hindi film clips….then came Rangoli to make Sunday morning brighter.

Indian advertising was trying to stand on its own feet now…Surf and Lalitaji were names that glued themselves to consumer's brain. Yet consumer's brain had space for more names, names like Amul, Nirma, Dabur, Favicol and Dalda. Bata was a biggest footwear name, Action, Liberty came later. People drank Campa Cola or maybe GoldSpot using straws, straws that later littered the floor of Halls hosting marriage receptions.
Vicks ki goli lo…People were popping in Vicks lozenges after smoking a Cavanders. If that didn’t get rid of the smoky smell, they considered brushing the teeth using Ajanta tooth ‘burush’ and white Colgate toothpaste, or may be just chew on some toothpowder sold in red headed white tin containers. Mouthwash! sellers and buyers had no need for it yet. Raju was content with Dabur Lal Dant Manjan that guaranteed pearly white motiyo jaisay daant.

Deodorant! Who needed them when we had Vaseline hair oil, the smell didn't offend anyone yet. Vaseline, the perfumed hair oil may be they were competing against Bengali Cantharidine.
Deodorant! Who needed them when we had Nycil ‘powder’. However, Nycil had no perfume to talk of, it was unperfumed, but it worked magic on scratchy Indian backs.

Khaitan gave common man something that only the White man of pre-Independence days could easily afford: Cool air without manual labor - Air Power. Hand Crafted Hand-held fans retired to some corner of the house, but were retrieved every time electricity went dead, and that happened just as often as it happens now. Kerosene lamp was still kept in some corner of the house, a back up. When electricity was on, most houses were lit yellow by incandescent Surya light bulbs. Bulbs controlled by big black Knobs. However Tube light (sorry; I couldn’t resist remembering ECE bulbs and tubes TVC) with its pure white light had arrived illuminating the freshly Nerolac painted walls.

Kerosene stove slowly made way for the LPG stove. Food cooked in a Hawkins pressure cooker ‘looked’ good, with Hawkins came along ‘Prestige Pressure Cooker’ for the people who really loved their wives, as its positioning line uttered ‘Jo biwi se kare pyar. Woh prestige se kaise kareiN inkaar’.
We suddenly got introduced to a whole new world of shelve names from MDH, Ashoke, Badshah masala, to Cadbury éclairs to Pan Parag to Kayam churan. Hajmola or Sawad ki goli was to be popped in after eating at the in-laws. For some of certain age, Isabgol was the laxative husk to be mixed in milk and to be drunk just before going to bed at night. Tin cans like the one of P mark oil, Lipton tea etc. were used to store sugar, salt, garam masala, pepper, tea, nuclear waste and other useful things. In homes, a Singer sewing machine was the ruler of women's gadget world.

Girls wanted Lacto Calamine to get that rosy tone. Boroline was the antiseptic creamy answer to skin problem under the shirt. For ‘under the innerwear problems’ of men, we had B-Tex lotion. Lifebuoy made life a lot less messy for pure-impure-unpure conscious, right-handed middle class Indians. Rosy pink Lux for aging beauty queens had competition from Lemony green Liril for girls who enjoyed frolicking under waterfalls….for the first time Indian women had a chance to fantasize outdoor bathing, that to under waterfalls…..well ‘waterfall’ reminds me of -Mandakini under a waterfall wearing just a transparent white sari. Some men I know still watch her bathe...keep googling her ‘ram maili’ image up. Some smart people liked Smita Patil, but she too had to dance in the rain. Some people were kept busy by Bo Derek. While some were kept busy by Rambo…, many wanted to work out and get those muscles.
The other thing that kept men busy was the newest gadget. During the later part of the 80s, The ‘Chal meri Luna’ call was fading away and ‘Hamara Bajaj’ was becoming the national pride and ride - model was Chetak. Besides it we had LML Vespa. Casio calculator with LED display was Pure technology. Also, Wrist watch that could do mathematical calculation was the in gadget. It was again a marvel from the house of Casio. I you had a VCP in 80s- you were rich, if you had VCR you were Super Rich. Radios in leather bound covers became a dying breed but they were still around with old men who clung to them. Vinyl Cassettes were the revolution. Portable cassette players along with a stereo speaker set were pure indulgence for music fanatics who swore by Boney M and then ‘pet shop boys’, Wham etc.

What did people hear?

Gurdas Maan was a singing star with a dafli in hand. Runa Laila of Bangladesh found an audience in India and Lal meri was the song. Nazia Hasan of Pakistan was the new fresh sound. People were listening to comic lines of Moin Akhtar, the Pakistani comedian. Ghulam Ali, The Ghazal Maestro of Pakistan became a star in India. Everybody was listening to him chupke chupke or no chupke chupke….
Sports: India found Cricket in a new sense in 1983, but that is a whole different story. In addition, we can name P.T. Usha. One more name I would like to name is that of Sergey Bubka. When Sergey Bubka pole-vaulted to a record in 1983, we in India celebrated. Remember, India was still friends with Russia. That again is another story.
Movie: another Indian passion. Sunday movies on Doordarshan were a big draw. One day the Doordarshan people decided to show 'art' movie for some weeks. It didn't last. People hated the idea.
‘Adharsheela’, ‘Maisi Sahib’, ' Uski Roti’ ! ….
What! Nonsense! Kiski Roti..?
just telecast Rajesh Khanna ki ‘Roti’.
Black and white electron bugs screaming zzzzzzzzz and fight it out on the signal down blue screen. We would rather watch the multi- colored bars and listen to the single longest electronic beep....Peeeeeeeeeee!!!!
What the hell is Uski Roti! The slow churning of Doordarshan logo to the sound of some dying instrument, ta-ra-rara-ra, during the first early morning telecast is more interesting than Iski Roti. Uski Roti!
Arrre...! Kiski Roti! '

Along with the mainstream Hindi films, Ramsay Brothers were making Horror movies like Purana Mandir by the dozen and these films were, let’s use the bollywood term - Super Duper Hit. Besides Horror movies we had numerous celluloid versions of soap operas and these were called family dramas, Ghar ek mandir, sansar, mera pati sirf mera hai, to name a few.
Amitabh Bachchan was the Shahenshah and so he remains to this day. Mithun Chakroborty was super hit with his disco moves….and then there were his ‘Gun Master G9 films’.
As I mentioned ‘Om Puri’ earlier, serious people and Cinema had movies like Ardh Satya to catch.
Another star emerged during the 80s with films like ‘Ilzaam’ & ‘Love 86’ – GOVINDA….
Today if we take a peep into the bollywood history, we will find that this man stands strong as a superstar nominee during the post Bachchan & Pre SRK era. Govinda was a great source of fun then and he shook the country truly well with his thumkas for a long time.
Sorry the topic is - 80s…!!!
Lok Seva Sanchar started airing national integration films like – the Torch bearing one and then ‘Mile sur…’, shabana Azmi would often be seen on the small screen…spreading perspectives - ‘Chhoone se Aids nehi failta…is tarah se toh pyar failta hai…’ children would not know then what that ‘Aids Business’ was and the middle class grownups also would try to figure out ‘why’s and ‘How’s of the business.
Sai Paranjpe was experimenting with offbeat flicks: Sparsh (The Touch), was released in 1980, and it won five film awards, including the National Film Award. Sparsh was followed by the comedies, Chashme Buddoor (1981) and Kathā (1982).
At times things seemed like changing. But that’s another story.
Nothing changed.
Mr. India had everything…a super watch, a super invisible power, more than a dozen kids, a girlfriend that could sing-dance and look sexy in the rain wearing a synthetic sari, and he also had a super villain, a Mogambo to be blamed for all the troubles in life. It was the culmination of every male Indian fantasy.
Then Mansoor Khan & Nasir Husain made this film called ‘Quamat se quamat Taq’ which launched Aamir Khan and Juhi Chawla. The film released in ’88…and the year became milestone in the history of Hindi films and the nation witnessed the Change…. (and of course no one knew at that point, that the change would be repeated after 12 years by the same man in a film called ‘Dil Chahta Hai’ where Aamir again would be a part of another Cult Film of our country which would change the paradigm of Hindi films).
Sorry again !!!
Coming back to the eighties…
Children, little children had other things on mind.
Owning a Hot Wheel Car or a Barbie was a dream for young boys and girls respectively, just as owing a Maruti 800 was for adults universally. Indrajal Comics brought with them syndicated comic books like The Phantom, Mandrake, Flash Gordon, Rip Carby and Buz Sawyer. Besides these it also had original graphic stories. Chandamama and Amar Chitra Katha introduced Indian Mythologies and tales from other cultures to the growing children of the 80s (today while I am writing this – its Anant pai’s Birthday, the great man behind Amar chitra katha and Tinkle). Target Magazine was the all time Best English Magazine for Children. It had the best feature stories and the best original content.
For children there were shows like Johny Soko & His Flying Robot, Spider man Cartoon, Different strokes, He-Man and the Masters of the Universe.
Children had trouble understanding what the hell Nirodh was…why all the rain and the singing and the pink umbrella?
Grown ups had trouble understanding it too.
In spite of all the talks, wall paintings and films by the Family welfare department…’Hum Do, Humare Do’….and ‘ek ke baad abhi nehi…do ke baad kabhi nehi’, the population kept growing…..as it is still growing today….
But then again, that's another story.

Victor K Ghoshe
17-9-2011

Smile of the Month - Aliens & Indian Villagers

When the goddess comes home by Sam Mukherjee

When the goddess comes home

Autumn is perhaps the most delightful season in West Bengal. Rains have almost ceased. The sky is a clear blue and the air is thick with the aroma of sweet-scented flowers like siuli and sephali. This provides an ideal backdrop for the homecoming of the Divine Mother Durga. Durga, the embodiment of shakti (power) is however accepted here as the loving daughter who visits Her parents once a year with Her children, Laxmi (Goddess of Wealth), Saraswati (Goddess of Learning), Kartik (Commander-in-Chief of the gods) and Ganesha (God of Success) for a sojourn of four days. Although the Durga puja (worship) is an event organized worldwide, nowhere is it celebrated the way it is in Kolkata (formerly Calcutta), the capital of West Bengal.

With the Durga puja round the corner, Pandal (marquee) makers and decorators are busy at work. Kumartuli in North Kolkata and Patuapara in the South bear testimony to the fact that this is the busiest time of the year for artisans as well. Both these places comprise an array of protimas (images) which are on the verge of completion. Several items are required to build an image and although there are a handful experimenting with new materials like ice-cream sticks, bamboo and match-sticks, velvet and bhanrs (small earthen pots) to display their innovative skills, most however prefer the traditional clay ones. Wood, cane, nails, hay, jute, cloth and paint are the basic requirements along with etel mati, kata mati and bali mati (different forms of silt). Etel mati is brought from Achipur while bali mati is the common Ganga mati available in the city.
Usually 2 to 3 people are assigned to a job. However, experienced craftsmen can work single-handedly. Hours of painstaking effort over several days are required to make an image. The adi bangla (original) colour is green but brown is gaining popularity. The construction invariably begins from the base.
Once done, the images are painted with spray machines and imparted the necessary finish with various kinds of brushes in accordance with the orders placed. Complete, the structure is then kept away from rain and provided a finer touch from time to time. Often, the finished paint is warmed so that it remains intact and does not peel off or lose its lustre. In a clay image, the portions which remain concealed are left undone in most cases but in terracotta works, the entire image has to be done up.
Pandals during the time of the pujas are a delight to watch. Each boasts of a theme depicting some famous architectural structure and competition between organized pujas is stiff. It is the same with lights. Every effort is made to have lights around the pandal with themes that are contemporary. Be it the Indian cricket captain in action or recreating a natural disaster, the expertise of the artisans has to be seen to be believed.
Food being one of the most important obsessions of the Bengalis, the goddess is fed sumptuously and it is indeed a treat to observe the varied fare that is laid out for Her. The offering of fruits and sweets begin as soon as the deity is welcomed formally with bodhon (inaugural ceremony) on Maha Sasti (first day of the puja).
On Maha Saptami, naivedya, an offering of atap chal (rice) along with bananas and sandesh (sweetmeat) or batasha (sugar candy) is laid for the 5 deities or the panchadebatas. When the kalabou (Lord Ganesha’s wife) is taken for a dip in the Holy River Ganga, joss sticks are lighted and she is also given an elaborate fare of fruits and sweets.
On Maha Ashtami day, the Goddess is offered 108 different naivedyas along with 108 lotuses. Either pulao (spiced rice) or khichudi (pulse and rice cooked together) is the main course since Ashtami is regarded as a special day.
Pantabhaat (soaked rice) along with kochusaag (vegetable) is served on Maha Nabami.
The day of Her immersion arrives and a dadhikarma, which is considered auspicious before one undertakes a journey, is prepared. It is a delightful concoction of khoi, murki, chiNre (varieties of puffed rice) curd and bananas.
By and large, baroyari puja (community worship) has replaced bonedi puja (traditional worship by aristocratic families) in Kolkata. Time was when Durga was welcomed home in style and splendour by a few aristocratic families who celebrated the pujas on a grand scale at home. Shobhabazar’s Rajbari, Hatkhola’s Duttabari, Behala’s Sabarna Chowdhurybari and some other aristocratic families drew the attention of Calcuttans who flocked to see the grandeur associated with these pujas. One such aristocratic family is the well-known Ghose family of Pathuriaghat Street.
Ramlochon Ghose bought the palatial house at 46, Pathuriaghat Street in October, 1782. The Durga puja started the NOFOLLOWing year. Governor General Warren Hastings was a guest that year. A chandni (a special terrace supported by 8 pillars) was constructed especially for the Christians who watched the ceremony from under it. It was brought down later in 1935 as it had started developing cracks.
Dr. Ananda Shankar Ghose (a scion of the family), a noted economist based in Australia, informed that almost always, Durga has had daker saaj (traditional ornamentation) and earlier, the coloured foils came from Germany. The kumors (potters) come from Kumartuli, the malakars (gardeners) arrive from Patuli in Burdwan and the Pals (image makers) come from Santipur to apply paint on the image. In early days great exponents of classical music and dance used to perform in the massive billiards room.

Dr. Ghose’s mother, Smita Ghose, added that the prayer is conducted by the priest, the tantradharak or scripture reader, a japak (chanter) doing 1008 chants and 2 people chanting names of Durga and Narayan (another name for Vishnu - the Preserver) respectively.
Sayantani, Ananda Shankar’s sister confirmed from New York that she had heard in earlier times, goats were sacrificed, but these days only chhanchi kumro (a type of pumpkin) and sugarcane are sacrificed as substitutes. She added that the bahan (vehicle) of the goddess, the lion, looks slightly different and resembles a unicorn.
Chandeliers come alive with light during sandhi puja (special prayer) and the atmosphere created is simply divine. The family has a tradition of giving bhog (food offerings) to all the visitors. For bisarjan (immersion), the image is taken in between 2 boats and as the boats move away, immersion is completed.
Smita Ghose is in Kolkata while her children Ananda Shankar and Sayantani are in Australia and the United States of America. Three continents, three different worlds. Yet as the puja approaches, the year-long wait for Durga’s homecoming fills the heart with reassurance that the great tradition of the Ghose’s will live on. The Ghose’s have proved that times change. But then again, they don’t.

* Article courtesy southasianoutlook.com
The Durga Puja in London (Picture by Probhat Banerjee)

A wistful Journey by Bithika B Biswas

A wistful Journey

A gush of mild autumn wind blew away Mitu’s shiny black hair from her face while she was standing on the crumbling terrace of their ancestral house that was located in some border village of West Bengal. She got a familiar smell that suddenly took her back to childhood spent in a small town in Assam. It is the feel of misty wind mixed with a smell of damp soil and that of the shiuli flowers which used to announce the onset of Durga Puja. She saw herself running around in her courtyard with her grandmother gathering shiuli flowers on her tiny frock from a bed of wet grass. This is nothing but nostalgia she thought. The sun used to be mild and the days were full of excitement on the prospect of the coming Durga Puja and Dipawali. A long holiday, new clothes and regular visits to the Puja Pandals with her family followed by yummy snacks were things that she and her brother used to look forward to.
The countdown used to start with a visit to the nearest Pratima Khanikar’s (sculptor’s) house since the day he had started putting clay on the straw and stick figures. They used to watch with wide open eyes how the idol used to take shape step by step. A run to the Khanikar’s house with friends from the nearby village after school was a regular ritual. Had any of them missed a day, the rest would come and give the updates. She remembered the faces of all the Goddesses for many years. They were shaped with such perfect curves and features. She used to wonder why women from the real world were not so beautiful. Maa Durga used to look so powerful and full of life once all the accessories and weapons were put up on the idol! Kartik used to be a symbol of all that a good looking man should posses. How she wished her future husband looked like Kartik. He actually used to look like a Tamil film hero with a well shaped moustache! She thought and a smile played in her face. And the Mahishasur! He used to look like one of the villagers who toiled in the paddy field or tea gardens. With dark skin, strong muscles and curly black hair and a bleeding buffalo on the bottom he possibly had everything that cut him from the rest of the cast.
She remembered her father reading in news papers about the Durga Puja in big cities like Guwahati and Kolkata and she and her brother used to listen to him with wide open eyes about the massive idols, decorated pandals, food stalls and people thronging the city roads whole night to visit the pandals. She used to look forward to the morning puja and anjali with her mother and aunt and evening Arati where the pundit worships the Goddess with the smoking earthen pots and incense sticks with drums beating loud. And they were happy with their small celebrations, a ride in her father’s bicycle around the town with colourful balloons in hand or in a cycle rickshaw with her mother and aunt or eating hot jelebies and aloo chops that her father used to get in the evening. She grew up in her small town and went to hostel later but always preferred to be at her hometown during every festival.
When she came to Kolkata after marriage she took pretty long to adjust to the overcrowded roads, heavy traffic and the massive buildings and cramped houses. During her first Durga Pujo in the city, she was more of a beholder rather than a part of the whole celebration. She never could actually become a part of such a huge experience. She used to feel lost in the big Pujo crowd and insisted that she visited the pandals in daytime when there were less people around. After a year or so, she went out of Kolkata with her husband Deepak for his job posting and their visit to Kolkata during Pujo turned out to be rather a homecoming where they preferred staying at home and going out for lunch or dinner with friends and family. It was also because Reva was young and she never liked to go out in a crowded place that their outings were scarce.
This year, she deliberately took the decision to spend the Pujo in Deepak’s Desher bari, a place where he used to spend his childhood Durga Pujos and had stopped coming after he grew up because of his commitments with friends and then with his job. The old house had its own charm with tall stairs, thick walls and a big balcony and terrace to laze around. The four hours journey by a local train and a van rickshaw ride were pretty hectic but she felt at peace with herself the moment she reached there. There were just a few houses nearby as most of the people had migrated to the city. There was a Pujo Dalan on the common courtyard surrounded by a few homes that belonged to their extended family members. The day was Panchami and the sculptor was giving the final touch to the idol and the male members of the family were helping him. She saw a crowd of half naked kids standing outside the Pujo Dalan with curious eyes to get a glimpse of the idol. They belonged to the fishermen’s village nearby who had excess to only two Pujos in the village.
It was a custom for all the females in the family to take an early bath and do their duties in the kitchen and the temple. They needed to cut fruits, make garlands and decorate the thalas for worship with all the ingredients. Mitu was also ready in the morning wearing a crisp handloom sari complete with shakha pola and sindoor. She came to the terrace to dry up her wet long hair in the early morning sun and it was the misty smell of shiuli flowers in the air which had taken her back to a journey down the memory lane. She was lost in her thoughts when Parvati called her from behind.
“O Boudi, Maa has asked you to help in the kitchen or breakfast would be late. She is preparing the Naibedya for the morning Pujo downstairs”. She said cleaning the terrace with a broomstick.
Parvati is the permanent maid in the house whose duty is mainly cleaning and washing. Mitu looked around the backyard of their house while making a bun with her long hair and saw the trees, thick green jungle and the mossy remains of the deserted houses. In between the jungle was a narrow lane that led towards the pond and the village behind. She saw two women washing clothes and a few kids playing around. And, there it was! A shiuli plant, bending over a fence with the weight of season’s full bloom! The tiny white flowers with orange stems had covered the grass under the plant. Mitu took a long breath and walked down the stairs. Wilfully, she came out of the house with the back door and started walking through the lane, bare-footed as if hypnotized by the magical smell. Suddenly, she felt like a young girl full of excitement who needed to gather the flowers before anybody else picked up. Had she not been wearing a sari, she would have run. Without looking around, she went straight towards the plant and started gathering the fresh flowers on her sari end with childlike enthusiasm. She came back with a lap full of flowers as if she had just won a long lost battle again oblivious of the staring eyes and suppressed laughter.
“You could have asked Parvati’s daughter to pick up the flowers for you. What would people say if you run around like this?” Mitu’s mother-in-law said looking at her as she was walking up. She did not notice nor did she felt the need of any explanation. She kept on walking up the stairs unaffected and smiling. She was lost in the humdrum course of life and just now, at the backyard of the house she met herself; just for a moment but the joy was priceless, too precious to be compromised for anything else.