“When you are brought into this world, they say you are born in sin, at least they gave you something you didn’t have to steal or have to win”, words rightly put together by the rocker Bon Jovi which gives a sneak peak to the mundaneness of our lives. Dodging the risk of belittling the impetus that irks us to live a mad life, prioritized by an epicurean vision, what follows in this write up is not a derision to the pleasure we find in philandering with time or money, but the plight of several others, who pass by as mere spectators to our opulence, undone by fate or their own misadventures at some point of time or the other.
Durga Puja in West Bengal has attained the status of a folklore to the rest of India.
Every individual who can relate themselves to the traditions of Bengal, wishes to live up to the legend of exuberance that sweeps the state for those four days and nights. We tend to reserve our best for that tenure, look the best, eat the best, hang out at the best places, in short, make an attempt to take a grab at the best of everything we have ever aspired to have. We wish the halcyon days never cease to exist.
The flipside to the aforementioned gesture is the silent hue and cry raised by that section of the population, who wishes to be a party to the celebration from their inner core, but fails to make the cut due to numerous constraints like local atrocities, political pogroms added to poverty to name a few. They are left with not much but to make silent complaints to the Almighty for being apparently partial with his benevolence. “Every dog has his day” might sound apprehensive on paper, but majority of these people never had their day and many are not apprehensive or expectant enough to have one in near future, their optimism being flushed away by prolonged miseries in various forms.
True celebration is mindless, is probably what they opine of the seemingly ostentatious display the more privileged puts up as an expression of their gaiety. One cannot justify labeling them snooty, because, for obvious reasons people preoccupied with finding a modest meal for their family will always find it taxing to relate to a dinner at some posh Park Street restaurant, it is as incomprehensible as Sir David Gilmour and Himesh Reshmiya residing in the same mental space.
Let me skip the predicament of propagating another soul stirring tale of deprivation and the human tendency to turn our back on the plethora of plights that looms large around, until it affects our own self ! Let the harbinger of life make His best attempts to impart equality in every dimension of life among the masses. On our part, let us do what is least demanding, an act of Remembrance. Amidst this festivity, getting submerged in fun and frolic, let us not be oblivious of those who will be ruing the financial loss incurred because of no work due to puja holidays or those who will be busy reconstructing thatched roofs of their dwellings. An occasional remembrance will not pull them out of their miseries for sure, but might pass on positive vibes that would give them the zeal to put up a brave face before the adversities and realize, human beings are yet to be depleted of humanity.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Never Cry Again
Kolkata, the city of joy, as the name suggests, is expected to be inhabited by jovial people with happiness oozing out from every face, where liveliness of the people lends life to the atmosphere around such that one can breathe the gaiety in the air. Usha Uthup, in an ode to her favorite city sings, “Shohorer rani go amra tomay jani go, tumi je maya rupkatha”. But times have changed, fight for survival is getting fierce with time. The gaiety has evaporated from the city’s atmosphere. We find the courteous, happy faces being replaced by gloomy ones burdened with the pressure of survival. Instead of lavish zamindars we have malnourished urchins crowding the streets. It seems that the mechanical engineers from the IITs are giving a run to the ‘humane’ aspect of human beings, as apparently more and more robots are produced under the human skin.
However, my objective is not to focus on the plights of the Kolkatans, but a particular aspect of student psychology, that is closely linked to the present mood of the society. Depressed, hung down faces, with tears rolling down the cheeks on OUR LAST DAY IN SCHOOL. We cry to our heart’s content to mourn over this day, we fear separation from our teachers who had been a source of inspiration throughout, our friends who constitute an integral part of our days and nights, and on top of all, the pain of being cast away from a building that has served as our second home for the last 15 years of our life.
Here in lies my objection. Why to lament on a day which aspires to be a day of our lifetime. The days to follow would possibly lead us to a never ending saga of struggle. All of a sudden we are exposed to the possible hardships of the mortal life, as if at the end of a smooth journey we suddenly find ourselves at the edge of an abyss. If we balance ourselves, we are destined for prosperity, otherwise absolute destruction. At this crucial juncture, shall allow emotions to take precedence which eventually follows up to a squalid future? Shall we allow time to guide us like depressed commoners or attempt to take over the reigns of destiny from time in our own hands?
We claim the school to be our second home, our friends are no less than our family, teachers are given no less respect than our parents. But how many of us wish to whine in pain during the dusk of our life? None. Then why shall we walk out of school for the last time as students with gloomy, depressed faces as our final memories? We lament of separation from friends. But, is the basement on which we build structures of love and friendship, where every brick is our every bit of faith, weak enough to be toppled by momentary separation? Is the bond that binds us not strong enough to withstand the executioner’s axe. ‘One for all and all for one’ is what we believe in and will believe forever. Then why fear loosing friends? Would the respect for our teachers evaporate with the course of time? No, our feelings are not superficial.
Memories are an individual’s greatest asset with which we , an asset with which we never have to part with till our last breathe. Similarly, the cherished memories of our school days, the funniest and saddest of events, each and every corner of the building would be deep engraved in our heart. Oblivion, I am sure, would never succeed to separate us from these fond memories. More over, will not the school authority be kind enough to allow it’s loyal ex students to have an occasional glimpse of their ‘second home’, to revamp their treasured memories and to feel the feel of the atmosphere they had spent their prime in?
The D- day is not to lament but for taking resolution to be achievers. The inspiration from our teachers, love of friends and memories of our beloved school should no longer be our weakness, but a moral boost. There can be no better homage to our teachers than to materialize the dreams they have of our prosperity, no better way to express gratitude to our friends than to justify their faith in our abilities. Like Athos, Porthos and Aramis, we will always vie for “ALL FOR ONE, ONE FOR ALL”.
However, my objective is not to focus on the plights of the Kolkatans, but a particular aspect of student psychology, that is closely linked to the present mood of the society. Depressed, hung down faces, with tears rolling down the cheeks on OUR LAST DAY IN SCHOOL. We cry to our heart’s content to mourn over this day, we fear separation from our teachers who had been a source of inspiration throughout, our friends who constitute an integral part of our days and nights, and on top of all, the pain of being cast away from a building that has served as our second home for the last 15 years of our life.
Here in lies my objection. Why to lament on a day which aspires to be a day of our lifetime. The days to follow would possibly lead us to a never ending saga of struggle. All of a sudden we are exposed to the possible hardships of the mortal life, as if at the end of a smooth journey we suddenly find ourselves at the edge of an abyss. If we balance ourselves, we are destined for prosperity, otherwise absolute destruction. At this crucial juncture, shall allow emotions to take precedence which eventually follows up to a squalid future? Shall we allow time to guide us like depressed commoners or attempt to take over the reigns of destiny from time in our own hands?
We claim the school to be our second home, our friends are no less than our family, teachers are given no less respect than our parents. But how many of us wish to whine in pain during the dusk of our life? None. Then why shall we walk out of school for the last time as students with gloomy, depressed faces as our final memories? We lament of separation from friends. But, is the basement on which we build structures of love and friendship, where every brick is our every bit of faith, weak enough to be toppled by momentary separation? Is the bond that binds us not strong enough to withstand the executioner’s axe. ‘One for all and all for one’ is what we believe in and will believe forever. Then why fear loosing friends? Would the respect for our teachers evaporate with the course of time? No, our feelings are not superficial.
Memories are an individual’s greatest asset with which we , an asset with which we never have to part with till our last breathe. Similarly, the cherished memories of our school days, the funniest and saddest of events, each and every corner of the building would be deep engraved in our heart. Oblivion, I am sure, would never succeed to separate us from these fond memories. More over, will not the school authority be kind enough to allow it’s loyal ex students to have an occasional glimpse of their ‘second home’, to revamp their treasured memories and to feel the feel of the atmosphere they had spent their prime in?
The D- day is not to lament but for taking resolution to be achievers. The inspiration from our teachers, love of friends and memories of our beloved school should no longer be our weakness, but a moral boost. There can be no better homage to our teachers than to materialize the dreams they have of our prosperity, no better way to express gratitude to our friends than to justify their faith in our abilities. Like Athos, Porthos and Aramis, we will always vie for “ALL FOR ONE, ONE FOR ALL”.
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