Suvadip Bhattacharjee Writes

Bengalis are scattered in India like unkempt lawns. They were perhaps the first among Indians to migrate to other cities for a better living and expected comfort. Many of those early migrants, who were English educated, proved themselves and became an influential segment of the society in course of time. But the situation is different now as the level of migration from Bengal has reached the bottom layer of the society. Lacs of migrant workers leave Bengal every year with menial jobs in hand. Most of them live in other states between the dilemma over their identity:  are they half-Indians or only Bengalis? There's a mystique surrounding their very existence. They place themselves in a position which is half-truth and at the same time half-lie. However, the idea of being a Bengali makes us, the so-called educated class of Bengalis, clearly distinct from the mainstream Indians. It may not be wrong to state here that Bengalis, as a language group, make themselves significantly separat...

Who do you admire? What are the special traits that attract you when you are with others? These two questions can draw vague answers. One can say it depends on individuals. Well, that’s true. But we should identify the kind of behaviours that make us happy. I often feel helpless when I come across certain demeanours that make me low. One should be aware of certain social etiquettes when we belong to a group called a civilised society. Hence, I started penning down some points that I thought are important to be followed. These are not rules, but certain gestures which, if applied appropriately, may help both sides.   The society is an ever-evolving system; it keeps on changing at a slow but steady pace. The social practices that are considered good today may not be appreciated seriously 50 years after. Again, some other practices which were once marked harmful to hold the society may have been included in the modern way of living decades later. Hence, it’s difficult to say which on...

The hero of this story is Kalidas, a young boy, who lived many years back in a remote corner of India. He was an orphan since birth. His mother breathed her last after the baby had been born. His father, who was a woodcutter, was killed by a tiger when he went into the deep forest. Little Kalidas was brought up by his only relative – a half-mad aunt. Life did not offer much mercy on him. They lived in poverty and Kalidas did not get anything for luxury. There was no friend of him as he wanted to live in his own world. The village elders did not have good opinion on this boy as he showed no interest in studies.  The old priest of the village shrine used to say, “The great grandfather of this boy was a learned Pundit. It’s a pity that Kalidas doesn’t follow his forefather’s footsteps.” Kalidas hated going to school. When his aunt told him to learn the alphabet, he retorted, “What will those yellow pages do to me? Let me be alone. I would like to enjoy my time with birds and animals i...

Saraswati painted by Raja Ravi Verma, c 1930 Five thousand years back, a large group of horsemen appeared in India. They were a warrior tribe and travelled a long way from the plateau of central Asia. They crossed the Hindu Kush Mountains and the River Sindhu (Indus) to enter the plains of India. The journey continued further south until they settled in a fertile land watered by the mighty river Saraswati and its tributary Drishadwati. The serenity of this green land surrounded by blue water gradually made a big impact on their nature. Many of them gave up their fighter identity and devoted their energy in creation. Some from their group came out as writers who composed beautiful poetic verses dedicated to the gods and goddesses they worshipped. The land where they dwelled in came to be known as the Vedic state of Brahmavarta. They considered the River Saraswati an inspiration to their literary advancements. Like a mother, the river nourished them with food, drinking water and fres...

Her name was the gift of her father. When his eldest daughter was born, the gentleman was ecstatic. The relatives who came to see the newborn heard from him, "My imagination ( Kalpana ) has now obtained a shape ( Roop/ Rup ) in my daughter. She will be known by the name Rupa.” This Rupa is neither a piece of silver, nor a reflection of beauty on flesh and blood, but the poetic expression of a father who was fond of literature. I got to know Mrs Rupa Gupta in the later part of her mortal phase, as a publishing professional. The first informal meeting took place on 2nd January 2018 which was my first day in the office of Amity University Press. I was sitting a bit nervous in the ply-laden conference room when she appeared in a silk saree with a large cup of tea and a wide smile that she used as her trademark. Within a few minutes of speaking with the charming lady, I felt a level of comfort in my voice and posture. She studied in Jadavpur University, and I was in Presidency ‒ this ...