A Page from an Indian Soldier`s - Bengali Association of Greater

Contents
Publication Committee
BAGB Sponsorship List
President's Address
নদীর জনয/ কবিতা
আগমনী বিজয়া
('Nodir Jonyo'/Bengali Poem)
('Agomoni Bijoya'/ Bengali Essay
Rakhi Mukhopadhyay
Bidhan Roy
Page No
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4
5
6
Sugota Sen
7
আমমবরকা বিশ লামগ/কবিতা
('America Besh Lage/ Bengali Poem)
Subrato Majumdar
10
বতনবি কবিতা
(Three Bengali Poems)
Abhijit Mukhopadhyay
11
S. K. Mukherjee
Leena Ghosh
Alok Bandopadhyay
Sanjay Singh
Shamik Das
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A Page From An Indian Soldier's Diary (Memoir)
Recipe
Fifty Countries (Travelogue)
Collages
Kid's Artwork
Poems
My Trip Home and Back
Letter to Thamma
Jhansi Ki Rani (Essay)
Ferpectville- PartII (Story)
The Time Line of Alabama (Essay)
Cultural Program & Menu of the Day
Shompa Datta
Priyadarshi Datta
Nandana Sen
Ayona Roychowdhury
Eesha Banerjee
Urmi Roy
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Disclaimer:
Publication committee of the ‘Magic City Sharodiya’ and BAGB are not
responsible for (or intend to propagate) any of the opinions, philosophy,
orientation and ideology expressed by the authors of the articles, stories and
poems included in this publication. All authors and painters are solely responsible
for their work printed in this publication.
-Editorial Board, Magic City Sharodiya-2013
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PUBLICATION COMMITTEE
EDITORIAL BOARD
(সম্পাদক মণ্ডলী)
SHOMPA DATTA (শম্পা দত্ত)
SANJIB BANERJEE (সঞ্জীব বন্দ্যাপাধ্যায়)
DIPANKAR GHOSH (দীপঙ্কর ঘ াষ)
COVER DESIGN (প্রচ্ছদ শশল্পী)
PIYALEE DAS (শপয়ালী দাস)
PUJA ARRANGEMENTS
(পুজা বযাবস্থাপনা)
PUROHIT: SANJIB BANERJEE
(সঞ্জীব বন্দ্যাপাধ্যায়)
TANTRODHARIKA: RAKHI MUKHERJEE
(রাখী মুন্দখাপাধ্যায়)
DECORATION (প্রশিমা- ও মি-সজ্জা)
RUMITA ROYCHOWDHURY
& BAGB MEMBERS
(রুশমিা রায়ন্দিৌধ্ু রী এবং শব-এ-শজ-শব সদসযবৃ ্)
BENGALI ASSOCIATION OF
GREATER BIRMINGHAM
(BAGB) EXECUTIVE
COMMITTEE, 2013
PRESIDENT (সভাপশি)
RAKHI MUKHERJEE
(রাখী মুন্দখাপাধ্যায়)
SECRETARY (সশিব)
MANABENDRA DASGUPTA
(মানন্দবন্দ্র দাসগুপ্ত)
TREASURER (ঘকাষাধ্যক্ষ)
DIPANKAR GHOSH (দীপঙ্কর ঘ াষ)
CULTURAL COMMITTEE (সাংস্কৃশিক সশমশি)
SANCHITA CHANDRA (সশিিা িন্দ্র)
MADHULIKA BHADRA (মধ্ু শলকা ভদ্র)
FOOD COMMITTEE (খাদয সশমশি)
SAMI BANERJEE (শমী বন্দ্যাপাধ্যায়)
RUMITA ROYCHOWDHURY
(রুশমিা রায়ন্দিৌধ্ু রী)
PAST PRESIDENT (
SANJIB BANERJEE
)
(সঞ্জীব বন্দ্যাপাধ্যায়)
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Sponsors of 2013 BAGB Durga Puja
GRAND SPONSORS
Susmita and Manabendra Dasgupta
Dora and Sanjay Singh
Swarnalata and Mrinmoy Mandal
SPONSORS
Sami and Sanjib Banerjee
Sati and Shubhankar Bhandopadhyay
Sanchita and Biswajit Chandra
Rupkatha and Diptiman Chanda
Bisakha Sen and Sanjeev Chaudhuri
Priyadarshi Datta
Shompa Datta
Shyamoli and Partha Ghosal
Leena and Dipankar Ghosh
Subhadra and Arunava Gupta
Krishna and Dilip Roy
Rakhi Mukherjee and Bidhan Roy
Rumita and Abhijit Roychowdhury
Srimita and Raman Shah
Rupan and Poonam Sanyal
Purba and Shubhasish Mukherjee
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President’s Address:
On behalf of BAGB, I would like to welcome all on the fifth Durga Puja celebration, which is
being held at the Deer Valley Elementary School, Birmingham, Alabama, on October 12,
2013.
Durga Puja festival epitomizes the victory of good over evil. The news of Maa Durga’s arrival
sparks celebration of life on earth. Bengali Hindus celebrate this festival as “Sharodotsav”
(Autumn festival). It is our biggest religious festival which, we celebrate with great
excitement and fanfare.
BAGB invites all to join this traditional festive celebration amidst the sound of ululation,
conch shell and mantras. This is our fifth venture, and each year we have seen a rise in
popularity and admiration amongst many communities in Alabama and our neighboring
states. It gives me great pleasure to see the unity in the BAGB community and the
tremendous effort put in by all our members to uphold and maintain our heritage, tradition
and culture.
I am delighted to tell you that keeping with the tradition of BAGB, our cultural committee
members have arranged an array of innovative programs this year that I am sure you will
enjoy.
This festival is not considered complete without good food. Our food committee members
have arranged mouthwatering dishes to satisfy your appetite with our delicious home
cooked food, prepared with special love and affection for you.
I am very proud and indebted to our committee members who have worked tirelessly
against so many odds to make this event possible. I am thankful to the relentless support of
all the sponsors and advertisers to make this event successful once again.
Wish you all a very blessed and happy Durga Puja. May Maa Durga shower her blessings on
all of us.
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A Page from an Indian Soldier’s (Airman’s) Diary
By S. K. Mukherjee, Kolkata, India
The day was 7th of September, 1965 and as a routine exercise, we were engaged in an “Operational
Preparedness” drill to keep our squadron helicopter ready to help our Army, when called to help in rescue
and supply missions. Pakistan had launched an unproven and savage attack in the Chamb-Jhorian sector of
Jammu and Kashmir, deploying its Artillery and Infantry divisions supported by its Air Force.
This sudden attack had caught the Indian Army off-guard and the casualties were mounting very
rapidly. At about 3pm, we were ordered to help the Army in casualty evacuation with six of our copters. This
was a very difficult mission, considering we had to land and evacuate injured Army soldiers under heavy
fire from enemy Artillery and Tank divisions accompanied by strafing and bombing by its Air Force jets.
Without the support of the Tank and Artillery divisions and the Indian Air Force providing the necessary air
cover, the jawans of our Infantry brigades were literally being mauled by the enemy with ever increasing
fatality numbers. Yet, the jawans of Rajput, Maratha, Punjab, Jath, Dogra, Kumaon, and Gorkha brigades
were defending every inch of our sacred motherland with awe inspiring bravery. After receiving frantic calls
from the Army for help for casualty evacuation, we took off.
Our first three missions went on smoothly, but with time, the visibility of our landing zone, where
injured jawans were brought in stretchers, started getting hazy due to the dust and smoke kicked up by the
bursting artillery shells and bombings by the enemy fighter-bomber jets. Under such difficult conditions, we
pressed on with our task. At about 6:30pm (at dusk) we were ordered by our Commanding Officer to carry
our last mission.
With nearly zero visibility, we landed safely. Our copter’s engine was kept running while the injured
jawans on stretchers were being placed inside the vehicle. Suddenly there was a big thud, and our copter
shook violently. We dashed outside to find the tail rotor of our copter blasted off by a Pakistani shell, rendering
the copter non-operational. Our captain came out of the cockpit and ordered us to abandon the copter. We
obeyed and followed him to a nearby bunker which happened to be a “hospital bunker.” We were ushered to
one corner of the bunker, where we—the four air crew--settled ourselves. Hours passed as we were pinned
inside the bunker while fierce battle raged outside on the battlefield. At midnight, we were informed by an
Army major that the enemy was advancing and our resistance may not last very long.
In the early morning (on 8th September, 1965) at about 3am suddenly, the walls of the bunker shook
violently accompanied by a spine-chilling, unbearable sound of firing from heavy artillery and battle tanks
that announced the arrival of our Artillery and Tank divisions. Soon the sound of bombs and rockets told us
that our Air Force fighter-bombers had also joined the fray. Every time our guns were hitting an enemy tank
or their gun positions or a bunker, our jawans greeted these hits with loud, joyful exhilarations, such as “Har
Har Mahadev,” “Jai Bajrang Bali,” “Wahe Guru,” or “Jai Sherwali Maa.” The lethal, precision and pin point
accuracy with which our gunners and Air Force fighter-bomber pilots were hitting the enemy bunkers and
fortifications forced the enemy to retreat. Soon we learned the Pakistan Army was on the run, chased by our
jawans and tanks.
The gunfire was becoming a distant sound which prompted us to leave the bunker. As we emerged
from the bunker, we confronted a ghastly scene. Hundreds of dead and injured Pakistani and Indian soldiers
were lying all over the battlefield, needing immediate attention and medical help. Our captain (pilot) told us
to go forward and help the Army Medical Core personnel who were facing a herculean task to attend to so
many injured. While we got busy lending our helping hands, our captain entered the abandoned copter to
find out if he could switch on the trans-receiver. Soon he returned and announced that the trans-receiver
worked and that he had contacted our base for immediate dispatch of helicopters with Army Medical team
and medicines.
In the meantime, we were confronting a new problem. Hundreds of men and women from the
adjoining villages were entering the battlefield with cans of hot milk and homemade chapattis. However,
the Army personnel were frantically trying to stop them, as the area was full of land mines. The villagers
were pleading with the soldiers to accept the food they had brought for them. An elderly lady, may be in
her seventies, came to us requesting to take the roti and milk from her. I looked at our captain who gave
his nod of approval to go ahead. As I ate the hot roti and hot and sweetened milk, I looked up at her face
and found tears rolling down her cheeks. Suddenly, I remembered my mother and I was sobbing. Slowly,
she pulled me in her arms, and wiping the tears off my face, she muttered “Toosi deshda vir puttar ho,
teynu rona nahi jajta si. Josh se lado aur dushmanko marbhagao” (You all are brave sons of our country,
who have fought with valor and driven the enemy out of our land. Sobbing doesn’t befit you). Their
missions accomplished, the villagers were leaving with their empty cans. The “old lady” also collected
her cans and slowly left for her home. As she bade us good luck and departed, I suddenly remembered
the Bengali patriotic song:
“Bhayer Mayer Ato Shneho, Kothai Gele Pabe Keho, Oma Tomar Charan Duti Bokkhey Amar Dhori,
Aamar Eei Deshete Janmo Jeno Eei Deshete Mori”. (Where the Mother and Brother bestow so
much love for you? Oh my Mother (Motherland), I fall at your feet and pray I am born in this
sacred land and I also want to breathe my last here).
As I looked around, I noticed everyone was in tears. A little touch of a mother’s/brother’s love
had softened the hearts of these battle-hardened soldiers. Our melancholy state of mind was short lived
with the appearance of the Indian Army tank with the tricolor national flag fluttering in its flag stick. As
the tank pulled up near us, the commander opened its canopy hatch door to come out and announce,
“Hot tea and biscuits for all, come and have it.” As we were sipping the long awaited hot tea, the tank’s
radio operator tuned his radio set to “Radio Kashmir Fouji Bhaiyon ke Liye Farmaishi Program” and fed
the sound to its external speakers for us to enjoy. Md. Rafiji’s famous song was on the air:
“Iss Desh Hai Bir Jawanoka, Albelon Ka, Mastano Ka,
Iss Desh Ka Yaron ………………………………………………..
Iss Desh Ka Yaron Kiya Kahena, Iss Desh Hai Duniya Ki Gahana.
Einha Chauri Chati, Biron Ki, Bholi Shakle Hiron Ki,
Maidan Mein Agar Hum ……………………………………………………….
Maidan Mein Agar Hum Daat Jaye, Mushkil Hain Pichey Haat Jaaye …”
But, our attention was diverted by the approach of eight helicopters, landing all around us. Soon the
injured were placed inside them and the copters were airborne. We also boarded the last copter to go
back to our base. Within an hour, we resumed our task to evacuate our fellow countrymen, bleeding
on the battlefield and waiting for evacuation to the Military Hospitals.
Jai Hind.
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Perfect Spicy Khichuri (Bengali Comfort Food)
From The Kitchen of Leena Ghosh
For a Bengali, this dish evokes nostalgia, memories of our childhood, of the puja pandal, or
a flooded street during the monsoons. There are many ways to make ‘Bengali Khichuri’, and
most of us love this dish whether at a pujo or lazing at home on a rainy day. Well, one
miserable rainy day far away from my native land, I decided it was the perfect day to make
Khichuri. As I didn’t want to go out, I made this dish with whatever I had at home. It is a
slight variation from the way our mothers taught us, but it turned out very, very, well. Try it
as it may surprise you!
Ingredients:
• 1 cup mung dal (dry roasted and then washed)
• 2/3 cup rice washed ( Basmati rice)
• 1 can Hunts (or any other brand) diced tomatoes with green chilli (blend and keep
aside)
• 2 large potatoes cut in rather large cubes
• 1 cup frozen peas
• 1 cauliflower cut in large pieces
• 1 very large onion sliced long and thin
• Salt, Turmeric powder, cumin powder
• ginger paste 2 TBS, garlic paste 1 TBS
• Ghee 3 TBS, garam masala (2 sticks cinnamon, 6 cardamon pods, 2 bay leaves, 8
cloves) that has been broken in your coffee grinder/or mortar & pestle (hamal dista)
Method:
In a 6 Q pot, boil the dal & rice, add turmeric and salt to taste. Meanwhile, fry the potatoes/
cauliflower in another pan, and keep aside. Then fry the sliced onion until golden brown and
keep aside. When the dal/rice mixture is almost done (soft and mushy) add the vegetables,
reduce heat and cover. It should not be take too long for the vegetables to cook. In a separate
pan, add ghee, add garam masala/ bay leaves, and then add the blended tomato/green chilli,
ginger, garlic, and cumin powder. Cook this till the ghee separates from the masala mixture.
Now pour this mixture into the big pot of Khichuri and stir gently for a minute. Turn the stove
off and put in the fried onions and keep the pot covered till ready to eat. Serve with fried
eggplant (bhagun bhaja), papadum, and even an omelette.
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Delicious food for the soul!
RECIPE FOR EASY CHILLI CHICKEN
Alak Bandyopadhyay, Madison, AL
Ingredients:
5 lbs raw chicken wings – peel the skin, wash and dry
Ragu sauce (any kind, self tried onion and garlic, or original)
Lots of chili sauce (at least one cup, Thai chili-garlic or only chili sauce)
Any other hot sauce (Tabasco, green chili sauce, add to your taste)
Green Chili (Thai chili): 5 to 10
Kraft’s Barbeque sauce – 2 tbsp (if you like the barbeque flavor)
Black pepper – 2 teaspoon
Salt – 1 to 2 teaspoon (upon taste)
Procedure:
Take a big container (preferred nonstick). Mix all the ingredients, and put on stove on
medium to high heat for about 20 minutes, then reduce the heat and keep it medium.
Make sure to stir occasionally, so that chicken does not stick to the pot. When chicken starts
becoming soft, increase the heat and dry out to make it nicely coated chili chicken. Serve as
appetizer.
Total Time: Approximately 1 hour. Don’t need to marinate.
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50 Countries with The Singh Family
By Sanjay Singh
I still vividly remember the day we decided to visit 50 countries with Vivek before he went to college. It was
couple of years after his birth and we were planning our first international trip with him – going to India.
Even before his birth, Dora and I would often discuss what we could do as a family that would be
memorable experience for all of us. That afternoon – I do not remember what prompted me – but we
discussed about going to 50 countries and 50 states in the United States.
In retrospect, we got bit by the wanderlust bug right after marriage. For honeymoon, Dora and I visited 17
national parks in 14 western states with 26 of our newfound Asian Friends on a church trip. We travelled in
style on a converted Greyhound – steel bars, with wooden planks that served as bed at night – with Dora
and I getting the honeymoon cabin (will put to shame the box hotels in Tokyo) located right above the
engines. We stopped at major truck stops, national parks, and YMCAs to use the facilities and shower. As I
look back, that was perhaps the most fun trip we have ever taken. Having survived a trip like that – every
trip since then has been “luxurious” in nature.
We started travelling internationally in earnest in 1998 and continued till 9/11. At that time, we took a
break for couple of years - wanted to stay home and explore the most geographically diverse country that
could exist on planet.
From the very beginning, we realized that with a little bit of planning, it was easier to travel with a child
than adults. Over the years, both Indira and Vivek have developed a certain form of resilience that is
remarkable. For starters none of them complained about anything (except getting up in the morning and
going on endless tourist attractions) – food, bed, temperature, sleeping conditions, etc. (I wish that was the
case when they are at home). They have learned to take it in stride and immerse themselves in the local
culture and climate. Of course, we have developed guidelines over the years. Some examples:
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•
Only do 2 “things” per day
•
Leave home between 10.30 - 11 a.m. and return by 6 p.m. Go out for dinner at 8 p.m.
•
Breakfast at hotel, sandwich lunch on the go, arrange for good dining experience and talk about the
day
•
Picnic every 3rd day – let the kids go to the local grocery store and pick out what they want to eat
•
A day OFF after every 5 days of travelling – i.e., do not do a Darn thing. Just chill out and vegetate
•
Go to the occasional McDonalds and familiar form of food every so often
•
Always try local cuisine, including drinks
•
Buy small gifts for their friends
•
Let them select my magnets
•
Walk EVERYWHERE
•
Learn to use the local transport
•
Limit the number of museums, palaces, monuments to visit
•
Go off the beaten path every so often
•
Meet with locals and get to know them
•
Only stay in hotels with GREAT Wi-Fi and stay connected with friends and family – my laptop becomes
a command and control center
•
Give the kids daily spending allowance (thanks to Oakworth – now that means debit and credit cards
for Vivek, with LIMIT)
•
Take lots of PICTURES and VIDEOS
While I do have fun – am resigned to the fact that it is their VACATION and not mine. Somebody has to be
alert and on the go to plan/arrange for things. The kids and missus know that I need my afternoon nap and
solid sleep at night – or nobody is going to be happy.
As I had mentioned before – the opportunity to travel with family over the past 15 years would not have
been possible without the great assistance and support of:
•
Family
•
Friends
•
Neighbors
•
Business Partners
•
Bankers
•
Lawyers
•
Doctors
•
Travel Agents
•
Strangers
•
And above all participants who all do enjoy the journey as much as I do – their willingness has only
abetted my crazy ideas over the years
So, what are we going to do next? While Indira wants to visit 75 countries before she goes to college - we
are going to concentrate on visiting the rest of the states in the US and going to fewer number of countries
at a time, where we can spend 7 to 10 days staying in one/two places and exploring nearby areas.
The End
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Painting Corner of the Young
Artists:
Amolika Chanda (6 years)
Arman Sultan (3 years)
Sophia Sultan (10 years)
A State of No Progress
Revisited
Shompa Datta
Shompa Datta
You must take this city bus to school to be on time
I hide my grinning, face
But a crowd of riders bulge out at the doors
From your tortured one, 
So, you push and push till it swallows you and your fears
my beautiful uncle--
No personal space here!
Hanging and
Over pot-holes and narrow corners
Wronged by an India
Everyone rides together, companions
That locked you in the closet
In sweat and smell and bodies tiered
without a friend.
Your life, Atin,
No comfortable journey here!
But, your schoolgirl dreams shatter--
 I return to,
A hand creeps up and down your thigh
Line by line,
The heavy-breathing body rubs rhythmically undeterred
even after it breathed despair,
as  I
No compunction here!
So, you carry a pin to warn away molesting hands
wrap myself in joyful expectations--
who blame the buses and the swaying crowds
Coming out to easier acceptance--
for men will be men in close quarters, it appears
when you paid dearly for this
 Your force runs
No safe space here!
After generations of unschooled instinct excused
In my blood,
Gang-rapes on busses become repeated breaking news
I recognize.
Live women are easy game, this society holds,
The whispers that
Though in “parras” or hoods goddesses are revered
You left behind are
Loud and queer in me.
No, no progress here!
Heredity decks me
September. 2013
In its genes
Showing boldly
In our skins again.
September 2013
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Satyagraha/Truth-force/Soul-force
Shompa Datta
In Montgomery, Alabama,
Today, over campuses,
“colored” people
Equality Rides push
boycotted the buses
for other/glbtq civil rights
Soul-force!
Hundreds of children protested
in non-violence
Soul-force!
Soul-force!
*Student Non-violent Coordinating Committee
and were bombed in church or jailed
Soul-force!
A quarter of a million people
marched on Washington
singing and talking of dreams
Soul-force!
The Bloody Sunday drew crowds
from Selma to Montgomery
beaten without a cause
Soul-force!
“Freedom Rides” to Mississippi
with the SNCC*
against racial violence
Soul-force!
Greensboro sit-ins
going against the grain
to de-segregate
Soul-force!
22
September 2013
Happy Durgapuja
&
Best Compliments
PATEL BROTHERS OF ATLANTA
1711 Church Street, Decatur, GA 30033
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My Trip Home and Back
by Priyadarshi Datta
That morning I got up early. I was going home to visit my parents in India after seven years. Right before
that, one spring evening I packed my bag and left for the Greyhound station in Albany, NY, and boarded the
bus to go to Montreal, Canada. I would reach Montreal early morning next. There, I would go to the United
States consulate to get myself a student visa for the Ph.D. program I had switched to and then travel to
India so that I didn’t have to try for a visa in India. Everything went right, except for in the consulate; the
officers harassed every Indian calling them “illegal” and such. If you can suffer those verbal abuses, they do
give you a visa at the end. So finally, they did give me the student visa for the duration of status or as long
as I took classes for the completion of the study. So the next night, I took the bus back to Albany. Montreal
in summer is great with people enjoying the brief summer they get before the winter’s cold. So I had a
great time in Montreal that day and took the bus back across the border in Saratoga Springs. The Saratogo
bus station is wonderful during summers. Finally, I had the visa and got ready for the trip to India!
I had to take a few gifts for family. For my little sister, I took a manual typewriter, which would be useful to
her as she applied to graduate schools in the U.S. Then of course, I had to buy things for my mother. She
used to always complain how expensive Indian cardamom, clove, and cinnamon were in India, so I got her
huge quantities of the three main ingredients of ‘garam’ masala. I had also bought some saris for Ma, my
mother, at the Queens Indian market in New York City. The shops there actually had great prints, but I had
to go through piles of the gaudiest looking patterns before I could some patterns that were good. For my
father or Baba, I got a good suit- length cloth which he could get tailored in India. I actually bought two suit
pieces, just in case someone else needed it.
So, I boarded the bus from Albany to the John F Kennedy airport. I had my friend Debashis drop me off at
the hotel pick-up and was off for the three hour trip. Well, I was all excited to be able to see my parents
after six years.
I had a window seat on Air-India flight, and the food was great. We took off from JFK, and then it was the
eight hour trip to Heathrow, U.K., where I changed planes for another trip to Mumbai. Now, I had a
contraband item with me, which was the book The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie that was banned in
India. So, I had taken off the jacket of the book and put the hard cover book with the other books I had for
my father and mother. When I arrived at Mumbai/Bombay, I changed from the international to the
domestic terminal. At the green line, they questioned me about the manual typewriter, and I told them it
was an Olivetti make. But, they didn’t ask about the books. They let me through on my flight by Indian
Airlines to Kolkata. So I went scot free with my contraband Rushdie’s Satanic Verses for my parents.
So I settled in for the journey home, wondering how my parents would look, since I had not seen them for
so long. My father had lost some teeth and my mother was there happy to see me. Ma said, “No one calls
me Ma anymore, since you left for USA and Shompa is in Gangtok teaching English to the Sikkimese high
school students, a job she had got when she quit her Orient Longmans in Kolkata. My father was happy
that Shompa had the job as a teacher. I think he was also proud that his daughter could eat any meat,
including beef.
After a few weeks in Kolkata, we took a trip to Santiniketan, the place where Rabindranath Tagore started
his school Patha Bhavana. My parents and grandparents, both from my father’s side and my mother’s side,
went to school there.
My mother used to keep secrets, and she had not told Baba that she had found a lump under her breast.
But, she told me. So, my trip home to India was cut short a bit early. I had to get my mother to England to
her brother, and I had to run to the British Counsulate in Kolkata to get a visitor’s visa to England. I was to
arrive at England after she had her operation, and then after a few days, I would fly out to USA. When I
reached, I took the bus ride back to Albany, where I would continue my studies for a Ph.D.
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LETTER TO THAMMA (Amita Sen)
From Nandana Sen
 
New York, 
 
 
“Dhon dhon dhon dhona/ Tapta dudher phena/ Begun shota shota/ Lokhhi Saraswati/ Horo Parbati, Horo
Parbotir Biye, Shithey Sindoor diye…”
 
 Thamma,
 
You taught us the lullabies that helped us fall asleep in Shantiniketan every night.  You also taught us
lessons that made us more awake to the whole world, every day.  No, not lessons like, don’t ever tell a lie. 
Nothing so grandiose, nor so simplistic.  That wasn’t your style.  You taught us practical, life-skills lessons
like, be angry with your friends if you’re upset, but never with people who work with you.  Spend hours
before the mirror in private, but not even a second in public.  Protect your dignity, and your bladder: 
always pee before catching a train.  Enjoy the attention boys will give you, but don’t let them know that
you like it.  
 
You were so keenly aware of appearances, yet you had startling moments of honesty.  On our way back
home after watching Amitabh Bachchan in “Anusandhan” for the third time, you once told me:  “I never
understood how much my husband loved me, until he was gone.”  It took me years to realize that you were
trying to tell me, in your non-preachy way, not to take love for granted.  Very proudly, you’d say to us, “I
asked my husband why he chose me, out of all the beautiful girls in the aashrom, and he said, ‘because
you’re such a famous flirt, of course!”  Just as proudly as you’d remember surviving hard times in your
childhood, when you’d make toys out of twigs and pebbles, and fires out of dry leaves, in winter.
 
You tried your best to teach us to be economical. You’d put a mora for me on the rickshaw’s tin floor so
that you, Didi and I could ride to the Bolpur market in one.  You gave us coconut oil instead of body lotions,
insisted that your home-made ice-cream was preferable to Kwality’s, because they didn’t make a
convincing mango flavor.  And you were right.  Yours was infinitely better.  
 
You were never extravagant with your gifts, but you chose each one very carefully.  My first bike, given to
me when I turned twelve.  The heavy silver anklets you wore when you danced as a girl, precious to me
beyond words.  My first tailored sari blouses for Pujo, when I was fifteen.  You made them for me in red,
green, blue, maroon, and yellow. “How about white?” I asked.  “No, not white,” you said, “you’re too young
to wear white.”   You gave non-negotiable directions to the tailor to make the sleeves unfashionably long.
 Grumpily, I said I wanted a black blouse without sleeves.  “No, not sleeveless,” you said with your
characteristic twinkle.  “You’re too old to go sleeveless.”
 
You took pride in being tough with us.  And yes, you could be hard, very hard -- but you were also
surprisingly soft at times, when you went against your own reflexes to indulge our wishes.   You never liked
cats and dogs – in fact, you abhorred them - but you let us adopt all the mangy strays that found their way
to Pratichi. You didn’t let them come into the house, but you named them, and you fed them.  You even
learned to miss them when they got better and went away – a fact you admitted to us, softly laughing at
yourself.
 
You got your way in life, in large part, by relying on your sense of humor.  I loved watching your eyebrows
get all bunched up, almost in a frown, when you laughed, your whole body shaking in silent convulsions.
 You cried very rarely.  You liked to laugh – and you were shamelessly prone to exaggerations that you knew
would lead to laughter.  Because I fell off my bicycle twice  (I admit I hurt myself quite badly once), you’d
tease me mercilessly about falling off my bike every time boys looked at me.  “Get back before dark,” you’d
say, “and be steady when you pass the boys’ hostel.”  
 
You’re the only person in the world who managed to make me impeccably punctual.  I got home late one
evening, having lost track of time, singing songs with Pathobhaban friends, sitting on the broken bridge at
the canal.  You were waiting for me in the baranda.  One look at your taut face full of tearful anxiety, even
before you opened your mouth to scold me in in that shrill worry-voice of yours, I knew I’d never be late
again.  To this day, when I’m in Shantiniketan, I can’t stop myself from getting back home before dark.  And
involuntarily, I always grip the handle-bars hard, whenever I bike past the boys’ hostel.  
 
I never understood why you seemed to worry about me so much.  I always felt a part of you believed I
couldn’t quite take care of myself.  We were having dinner one night, just you and me.  This trip was
supposed to be all about studying for the SAT tests, but I was distracted by my first experience of
heartbreak.  I’d made three fruitless trips to the Post Office that day, to see if there was a letter for me.  I’d
also had my big bicycle fall that afternoon, got a few stitches on my leg.  I was feeling particularly sorry for
myself, and a tear spilled over as I tried to stuff fish into my mouth.  You crossed over to my chair, pulled
Baba’s empty chair over to me, and started feeding me with your hands.  I was way too old to be fed, of
course.  “You’re too sweet,” was all that you said.  “You need to toughen up.”
 
Like I said, you always loved to exaggerate.  I was never too sweet.  And yes, I have toughened up,
Thamma.  I can wear halter blouses with sheer chiffon saris without remembering the absurd long sleeves
you’d sentenced me to.  I don’t have performance anxiety about any kind of tests any more, social or
professional, even if I know I may not pass.  I’ve found a way of singing “Amader Shantinikentan” without
the inevitable sting of tears in my eyes.  I’ve learnt to argue endlessly with heartbreak, rather than let
myself be swept away by it.  And I have fallen flat many times, before boys and girls, and picked myself up
without a tear.
 
But you didn’t complete training us, Thamma.  Not one of your lessons prepared us to bear the vision of
your tranquil frame, covered with flowers, disappear into the flames, with such inarguable finality.
 
You couldn’t teach any of us to be that tough.
  
Love,
 
Toompa (Nandana Sen)
(Nandana Sen is an international actor, writer and child-rights activist. She is the daugter of Nobel
Laureate and Bharat Ratna economist Dr. Amartya Sen and Padma Shri winner Dr. Nabanita Dev Sen.
This is a letter that actress Nandana Sen had written in remembrance of Amita Sen, late author of the
book “Ashram Konya.” Nandana had read this piece at Amita Sen’s centenary birthday celebration at
“Pratichee,” Santiniketan. Nandana Sen is first cousin of BAGB members, Shompa and Priyadarshi, and
visited Birmingham along with her mother.)
27
Jhansi Ki Rani
By Ayona Roychowdhury
There are a few people who have left a mark on the world history, fighting for independence and freedom.
Among them was a brave lady from India who fought against the British rule. She was known as “Jhansi ki
Rani,” which means the Queen of Jhansi, from where she hailed.
She was born on the 19th of November, 1828 as Manikarnika in Varanasi, India. As a kid, she was more
interested in horse riding, sword play, and archery. Manikarnika married Maharaja (King) of Jhansi--Raja
Gangadhar Rao--in 1842, and was later renamed Lakshmibai (or Laxmibai). She gave birth to Damodar Rao
in 1851. Sadly, he died at four months of age. The King had adopted Damodar Rao, his cousin’s son as the
sole heir to the kingdom. Later in 1853, when the King died, the British East India Company applied the
Doctrine of Lapse, dismissing Damodar Rao’s claim to the throne and giving the state to the British
territories. And in return, the British offered Rani Lakshmibai a pension of Rs. 60,000 and ordered her to
leave the palace and fort. She bravely rejected the offer and stayed to defend her people.
In 1857, a rumor started the Indian Rebellion with disturbances everywhere, and when all of this reached
Rani Lakshmibai, she asked for armed protection from the British political officer. She later held a Haldi
Kumkum for all the women to provide assurance to all her subjects and to assure them the British were
cowards and that one need not be afraid of them. A Haldi Kumkum is a ceremony where women exchange
turmeric and vermillion powder as a symbol of their married status and wishes for their husband’s long
lives.
In June, 1857, a couple of rebel soldiers took some treasure and massacred the British officers along with
their families. The British now blamed her and proclaimed that their troops would come to maintain peace.
The commander of the British troops demanded that the city should be surrendered, or otherwise it would
be demolished. Rani Lakshmibai, being the women she was, announced the following words: “We fight for
independence. In the words of Lord Krishna, we will if we are victorious, enjoy the fruits of victory, if
defeated and killed on the field of battle, we shall surely earn eternal glory and salvation.” She protected
Jhansi against the British troops when Jhansi was besieged on the 23rd of March, 1858. The demolishment
began on the 24th of March, and the city of Jhansi returned fire. She requested help from Tatya Tope (a
strong King in the neighboring state), who led an army of 20,000 headed himself. Unfortunately, Tatya Tope
arrived late. There was a siege on the Rani’s castle, but she was able to escape with her son on her back.
She led many battles on the field with Tatya Tope and was defeated many a time. Finally, she was fatally
wounded by a gun shot from a British official on the 18th of June, 1858 in Gwalior, India, while she was
leading an army.
Her sacrifice for the freedom of her people became very famous. Many monuments were erected in her
honor. She is still remembered for her bravery and courage. As I read more about her, I came across a
famous poem written in her honor by a poet Ms. Subhadra Kumari Chauhan which was written in Hindi
(Kharboli Dialect)
The thrones shook and royalties scowled
Old India was re-invigorated with new youth
People realized the value of lost freedom
Everybody was determined to throw the foreigners out
The old sword glistened again in 1857
This story we heard from the mouths of Bundel bards
Like a man she fought, she was the Queen of Jhansi
28
English Translation
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29
Lauren in Ferpectville: Part 2
(Continued from last year)
Eesha Banerjee
After our talk with the king, we were fed and bathed. Then, we took a long nap. When we woke up, we
ate supper. We then went over to the Pegasus Station. Luckily this time, all three of us had our own
Pegasuses. We reached the mountain where Troll Town was. It was a LONG hike up. We peered at the path.
“Who’s carrying me?” the duchess asked. She was the prissy Duchess of Dumpleweed Swamp. “No one,
Mrs. Prissy,” my petulant new friend Constance replied. “Oh break it up, you two,” I said. I’m Lauren. To
know more about me, read the first part. “H-h-h-who are you?” an old man croaked. “We’re Lauren,
Canstance and the Duchess of the Dumpleweed Swamp and we’re looking for Troll Town.” I said.
“I’m Bobinson Crusoe, the great8 grandson of Robinson Crusoe. And by the way, was moved to that
island because of limited resources.”
“It’ll cost you 30 frols for me to get you there.” He croaked.
“What are…?” I started.
“Here you go,” the duchess interjected, giving him a silver coin.
“But Madame,” he said uncertainly, “this is 50 frols.”
“The extra is for you carrying me down,” the duchess replied.
***
Constance and I reached the boat about half an hour before Bobinson Crusoe and the duchess. The
poor man had to take about a dozen rests, but he still thought it was an honor to carry a duchess who
could afford to pay to be carried.
When they reached, we all hopped onto the boat. There were four paddles, and because somebody
was too ‘special’ to work hard, I had to paddle double time.
Suddenly, a fierce sea serpent rose out of the water. It was blue, with red eyes and sharp teeth.
Bobinson quickly threw his paddle at the snake. The serpent deflected it with its tail and switched its gaze
to Bobinson. The duchess snatched a paddle and jumped in front of him. The serpent turned around and
knocked her out cold with its tail. Those seconds gave Constance and me our chance. I threw my paddle at
its head, and Constance, with her sense of humor, threw hers at its rear end. The monster reeled back in
pain onto our boat. We had no choice but to jump out of the boat to avoid being crushed by the serpent.
Bobinson had to carry the duchess, while Constance and I jumped out holding hands. There was no telling
what was in the water, and we were kind of scared.
We might have slightly wounded the monster, but we weren’t even close to injuring it badly. It was
back up in no time, ready to kill us for frustrating it. We closed our eyes, ready to die, but that moment
never came. Instead, we saw the monster in front of us dead. A monster much bigger towered in its place.
So our death is going to be a lot more painful, we thought.
The duchess woke up, but fainted again when she saw the new creature.
We were pretty surprised when it said, “I won’t eat you. I’m here for your help.”
“I’m a troll and my name is Erado,” Erado said.
“You said you needed help?” I asked.
“Oh yes. Thank you for reminding me. But I can’t tell you here. Come with me to my cave,” Erado said.
***
The cave looked relatively small from the outside, but it was actually a lot bigger. There was a small
opening to the cave, and then a small tunnel led to a huge cave behind it. That gigantic cave is where we
consulted.
“People are trying to take the throne,” Erado said.
By this time, the duchess was awake again. “Why do you care?” she asked.
Erado replied, “I am…”
“King Erado! They’re coming!” a smaller troll shouted, running into the cave. Suddenly, he dropped
30
dead, an arrow protruding out of his back.
“Oh, dear,” Bobinson said.
About five big trolls came and carried Erado away.
We just stood there, goggle eyed in shock.
Constance was first to recover. “Snap out of it!” she shouted, “Erado’s GONE!”
“We need to think about what to do next,” I said.
“Reckon we should camp by now,” Bobinson interrupted.
We ate some chicken jerky and fruit before we went to sleep. We all had to give up our blankets for the
duchess to leave us alone. Then, we all gave in.
It was storming like crazy that night. I slept through it, though.
***
Early the next morning, we packed up our ‘camp’.
***
We were all walking together, until suddenly, an arrow struck the tree trunk beside me. “Everybody
duck!” I screamed. We all crouched to the ground in terror. “I think we should crawl ahead,” Constance
whispered. Arrows were coming from everywhere.
We kept on going, until there was a fork in the road. By this time, it was already dark. We decided to set
up camp.
Constance whipped up some rabbit stew from a rabbit that she had caught.
We kept watches during the night. Better safe than sorry. I was first, then the duchess, then Constance,
then finally Bobinson.
During the last watch, we heard a huge noise. It was a troll army! We all quickly ran away.
***
I turned up with Bobinson, but there was no sign of Constance or the duchess. That means they must
have gone the other way.
I couldn’t believe it! The Troll Town Castle towered before us! It was pretty basic. There were four
towers connected by four walls. The walls surrounded the Castle, which wasn’t very significant. It was
really big and gray, though. There also was a thick moat, with no animals, that went around the whole
thing. In between the walls and the castle, there was a little city.
As we tried to walk through the gates, we were stopped by guards.
“Pssst. Bobinson, do you have any money?” I asked.
Reluctantly, he gave the fifty frol bill from the duchess to me. I slipped it over to the guards, who gladly
stepped aside.
We ran through the streets in the city until we came into a little clearing. I could hear a loud voice
whose owner was apparently giving a speech. We couldn’t see who it was because neither of us was tall,
and there was a huge crowd gathered around the stage.
“Hey Bobinson, do you think you could give me a boost?” I asked.
“Sure,” he replied, right before he picked me up. The person who was talking looked like the king, but it
was kind of blurry. I pulled out a pair of binoculars I had packed and peered into them. I couldn’t believe it!
Maybe the townsfolk had never been close to the king, but I had, and that troll wasn’t the king.
“Come on Bobinson, we have to get to the stage,” I whispered.
He quickly put me down and we rushed to the fraud. As we were shoving through, I could hear the troll
saying, “Will you accept and follow the king’s rules?”
The crowd replied, “We will, we will!”
“Will you give me the power of the kingdom so I can help you?”
As he was asking this, we were on top of the stage. I ran across it and pulled the fake mustache off of
his face.
The city people were confused and enraged. The fraud tried to escape, but he wasn’t fast enough.
In an instant, the people were upon him.
Then, we all ran to the castle. We found the king in one of the cells. With a bobby pin, I picked the lock.
Sure it was the oldest trick in the book, but it worked.
“This is a really nice castle,” I said.
It was true. There were magnificent staircases, beautiful fountains, and intricate carving everywhere
you looked.
“Yeah. My grandpa built it,” King Erado replied.
We went back up to his chambers.
“Uh oh. You guys have to get out of here,” he said.
“Why? What is it?” I went over to where he was standing.
The opposing Troll Army was coming.
“My army can fight them back, but they won’t let you guys go,” the king explained. “Do you see that
carpet?” he said, pointing to a red rug on the floor. “It’s magic. For example, if you wanted to go to the
store, you would say, ‘Please take me to the store’ and you would be there. Now hurry,” Erado said.
“Please take us to Constance and the duchess,” I chanted.
And we were gone.
***
“I can’t believe I turned up with… you,” the duchess said. She spat out the last word with distaste.
“I’m not excited either, but we have to take shelter and stick together,” Constance said
“Let’s see if we can take shelter in that troll house,” the duchess suggested.
“Are you crazy? We could get killed!” Constance exclaimed.
“The Great Constance is scared? Spill it, Constance,” The duchess said.
“Okay. When I first came to Ferpectville, I was three. I had come with my dad over summer break. Right
after we walked in, trolls came. I escaped and hid, but my father was chased out, after which the porthole
closed. It’s the reason I’m helping Lauren; I want to go back to my parents. I’ve been afraid of trolls ever
since. Anyway, how come you’re not afraid?” Constance said.
“Well, my father was the much respected Duke of Gallopton, where the centaurs live. He had two
daughters Annie, my sister, and Caroline, me. There were two new fiefs that were open for ruling. They
were Pixieland, and the Dumpleweed Swamp. Obviously, we both wanted Pixieland, so there was a
challenge. It was that whoever kissed the most disgusting goblin won. I was disgusted and didn’t do it.
Because of my petty feelings, I am now the Duchess of Dumpleweed Swamp. That day, I made a point that
if something was very important, I would do whatever it takes to succeed. Enough of that, it’s getting dark,”
The duchess said.
Together, the two of them walked to the house and knocked on the door.
“Who are you and what are you doin’ in Theresa Bigear’s house?” a voice answered.
“Our names are Constance and Duchess Caroline, and we need shelter for the night,” they said.
“Fine. You can stay here, but it’ll cost you,” the voice replied. The door opened, and a huge troll loomed
in front of them.
“I’m Theresa Bigear, but you can call me Terry,” she said.
“Okay, Okay. Just cut to the chase. What do you want from us? By the way, we don’t have money,”
Constance said.
“Hmmm. Come on in and I’ll tell you what you need to do,” Terry said.
“Here’s what you need to do. My daughter, Tallulah, is going to her first day of pre-school. She must
make a good impression on her teacher. It has to be tonight, because we have to get there in time. I have
to cook, so will you do it?” Terry said, all in a minute.
“Whoa, slow down. What exactly do we have to do?” Constance asked.
“Well, you have to do things like brushing her teeth, cleaning out her toe jam, and clipping her nails,”
Terry said.
“Now, you must hurry. Tallulah is upstairs. All the supplies are in her bathroom.”
With lots of effort, the duo climbed up the stairs.
32
Tallulah was already in the bathroom. It was then that Constance and the duchess came to know that
Tallulah was in a wheelchair. She was crying.
“Who are you?!” she shrieked.
“It’s okay. We are here to clean your teeth and feet,” the duchess said.
“What’s wrong?” Constance inquired.
“I’m scared about tomorrow. Everyone’s going to laugh at me,” she replied.
“No one will laugh at you. You’re special. The chair just makes you more unique,” the duchess said.
“Really?” Tallulah asked shakily.
“Yeah. No one else has a wheelchair, and you don’t have to sit in those uncomfortable chairs,”
Constance added.
“You’re right! I should be glad. You should start now, by the way,” Tallulah said.
“Smile for us,” Constance said.
When the girl showed her teeth, the others tried not to cringe. The teeth were brown.
The duchess held the tooth brush steady while Constance squirted the toothpaste onto it. It was a little
bit hard, because everything was so big, but they managed it. When that was done, duchess started
brushing the bottom row. Constance made sure Tallulah stayed still. About an hour later, the bottom row
was a light shade of yellow. Terry approved, and the two switched so that Constance was brushing the top
row. After roughly the same time had passed and the light yellow teeth earned Mommy’s approval,
Constance and the duchess started on the feet.
The toe jam cleaning was quick but disgusting. There were sand, dirt, mud, and stuff that couldn’t be
made out. Each one of the girls got a small brush and a foot to clean.
“No offense, Tallulah, but this is disgusting,” Constance said.
“None taken. I haven’t taken a bath in a month,” Tallulah replied.
Once that was over, they started the toenail clipping.
The duchess told Tallulah to ask for a jar. After all, they needed the clippings.
Terry was quick, and she brought the perfect size. This part was fun, because Constance and the
duchess were able to jump on the clipper to work it.
When they were done, Tallulah went to take a bath.
***
Bobinson, Smiley, and I had just reached Terry’s house. The duchess was freaking out and Constance
was writing something on a sheet of paper.
“Constance, hurry up!” Bobinson said impatiently. He was starving.
As she finished a letter to Terry, she hopped on. The duchess came on too after grabbing the jar of
toenails.
“Please take us to Lord Ferpect!” I said.
***
“You guys have astounded me again,” Lord Ferpect said.
We were having a feast on Bobinson’s request.
After explaining the magic carpet to the duchess and Constance, the king said, “The last thing you need
to get is a Hippogriff’s feather. You’ll find the hippogriffs at the tall Mountains of Perflangidy.”
The End
33
The Timeline of Alabama
By Urmi Roy
Alabama became part of the United States in 1819 and was the 22nd state to join the union. But before
Alabama was united with the United States, it had its own history.
The Creeks and the Americans
In the early sixteenth century, explorers were traveling the Territory (now the southeast of the United
States). They discovered some Indian tribes had already settled there. In the beginning of the nineteenth
century, when the white settlers started to move to the southeast land, but the Indian tribe, Creeks, did not
give their land. As more white settlers came to the southeast, the Creeks started to divide into two groups.
Tecumseh (Shawnee Indian leader) tried to unite the two different groups from the white settlers. Tecumseh
visit caused the Creeks to form again two different groups, Upper Creek and a Lower Creek group. The Lower
Creeks were more calm and peaceful with the white settlers. But the Upper Creek were angered by white
settlers trying to gain more land. The two groups of the Creeks caused the Creek War in 1813 and lasted for
1 year. At the end of the war the Upper Creeks were defeated.
Arrangement
After the Creek War, Alabama became more exposed to white settlers. Thousands of people from all
over the south east came looking for fertile land to grow cotton. Congress created the Alabama Territory in
1817after Mississippi became a state. Alabama Territory’s capital became St. Stephens and their Territorial
Governor was named William Wyatt Bibb who helped create a government and pass laws.
Civil War
Alabama and other southern states seceded from the United States in 1880, when Lincoln became
president and made slavery illegal. The seceded states called themselves the Confederates of America and
were led by the president of the Confederates, Jefferson Davis. Lincoln would not tolerate secession but he
also tried not to trigger a war. However the Unions and Confederates agreements weren’t approved by each
other which led to the Civil War. The some prime war targets for the Confederates took place in Richmond,
which was the capital of the Confederates at that time. Although the original capital was Montgomery,
the change made some supporters upset, but the adjustment saved Alabama from a lot of destruction.
Near the end of the war, Alabama had barely anyone to defend themselves. With the estimation of 100,000
soldiers from Alabama fighting in the war, but some white and black Alabamians were enlisted on the Union
instead of the Confederates.
Rebuilding the Country
After four years of Civil war, Alabama was left destroyed in social and economic. During the
reconstruction, three constitutions were written for Alabama. The first one tried to reestablish the prewar
status quo. The second one adjusted the political power to black people. The last one restored authority to
conservative Democrats.
Eliminating Segregation
Between the 1950’s and 1960’s, during the Civil Rights Movement, Alabama was the site of some of
the most defining events of the civil rights era. These events transformed the state and profoundly changed
America. The movement focused primarily on Blacks in an effort to establish the civil rights of individual
Black citizens. African Americans in Alabama fought for their basic civil and human rights.
34
The Present of Alabama
Today Alabama is known as “Heart of Dixie”, “Yellowhammer State”, and the “Cotton State”. The flag
is white with a red X on top. Also Alabama has equal freedom and rights to every race and PROUD to be a
state of America.
35
BAGB Durga Puja Cultural Program
6.00 pm, October 12th, 2013
1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 36
Dance: “Naba Anondo Jago...”
Rabindra Sangeet
Dance: “Mamo Chitte Nrite Nrittye...”
Duet Musical Performance
Mohan Veena (Instrumental)
Dance: “Bhoriye Dile Alo Andhar Raate Ma”
Guest Singers
Dance Drama: “Jyotsna Raate, Chander Haate...” by NANRITAM, USA