...''Jai bol bhai...or mon ta kintu bhalo''
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
...''Jai bol bhai...or mon ta kintu bhalo''
Monday, June 28, 2010
Ambrocia's chicken rolls came at 19 Rs. And the interesting thing about "pre-khawa" part was the payment process.. I can quite guarantee that our payment process was one of the most complicated ones, more than latest business economics gyaan at Harvard... you need to be a little more attentive to understand the whole thing...
It so happened that, we at first calculated a total price by multiplying 19 with the head-count. Then we divided the total price with our head-count again, to get the per-head contribution required. then in most cases one of us (usually me and deeba) had the idea of a cold-drink.. this being immediately regarded, we cancelled the whole multiplication-division, and started with - "tahole koto porche?"... this "tahole koto porche?" - is one of the most difficult relation to solve...in most cases we didn't have a solution anyways, solving "tahole koto porche?" , required great skill and practice of mathematics, mathematical manipulation, economics, communication skills and a fair knowledge about the pocket-market, which included the share-status at the canteen. Now, you may think that "tahole koto porche?" can be solved by a little advanced mathematics, but it was not that simple, mathematics said one thing, but in reality it hardly followed the answers... for example- Deepanjan usually said- "amar kichu porche na, amae momo khawachhe".. then Soumyadip said- "AEE (he always started with a very emotional article in the beginning of a sentence, it is actually a momo-version of "A"...) ami toke last week khayiechi..bhule ja.. nijer ta nijer ..".. At that very moment Anish happened to recall and stated the fact in such a manly manner that Deepanjan got startled- "By the way Deeba, tui kintu amae 25 taka owe korish.."... this sudden unexpected demand from his dear friend Anish completely peplexed Deepanjan, and he gave a very uncomfortable confused void-of-confidence grin and said- "oo..acha, tahole to cos theta khawabe.." .. All this being happened made the whole damn calculation get out of my mind and Uddalok declared that "jar jai hok, ami 19 takar besi debo na.."
Take a break, things will go even more complex.. ;-)
Well, as I was saying, Deepanjan lost a hand from his faithful friend Soumyadip, he also took a 25 Rs apparently soft but extremely hard punch from Anish, Uddalok immediately made his ground clear. So it was a none-but-God-and-Cos-Theta-can-save-me look on Deepanjan's wide grin projected towards me.. Hence eventually I had to be the God (doesn't matter- I am atheist all along) and decided to give 9 Rs out of Deepanjan's 19 and amazingly, probably inspired by my philanthropy, Anish and Soumyadip decided to give the other 10... Good Luck to me..
Now came the physical part of the whole thing.. Usually I and sometimes Anish had a 100Rs note and none had 19 Rs change and thus came a very important economic issue- the most interesting- mutual agreement, namely "pore die debo" . This problem took little less time to get through as I, hardly could resist my eyes and tongue and stomach, nodded affirmatively at whatever "pore die debo" schemes my friends offered...
Finally, we managed to resolve our thing-of-the-day and I, all by myself, keeping good trust on my friends, ordered 5 chicken rolls..
Now comes the most remembered part that still haunts me in my darkest nightmares...
We waited for the rolls, they came floating through the arms of the man at the cash-counter, finally reached us, and I gave the long-waited bite.. Ambrocia rocked, we went through the rolls, we khaddaed all along, we tore the roll-rolling-papers and criticized the latest i-Pad from Apple.. we finished our rolls, we walked towards the cold-drinks shop beside Tanishq, we went inside the shop, everyone took out their wallet and we all got a bottle of 7up or Sprite.. then we cheered, we drank Sprite, we khaddaed more, then we parted, Anish, Deepanjan and Soumyadip walked towards Anish's car and me and Udo went towards the Bus-Stop... the Bus came, we climbed in. usually I sat and took Udo's satchel.. the bus drove along... crossed the Gariahat Over Bridge, Dhakuria bridge, where we saw Kinkar and Ananda walking on the pavements, and then through Jodhpur Park the bus reached Jadavpur 8B, where Uddalok and I parted...the bus almost reached 8B, slowly Uddalok landed on the stair-platform, asked "kal asbi toh? ", I said "na mone hoy, kal to amar lab nei..".. Uddalok went further to the stair below, saying "o acha, then abar next mongolbar?" , I replied - "tai to mone hoy.." .. the bus stopped. Uddalok just before keeping his foot on the ground left the ultimate thing that still haunts me - "by the way, roll tar jonno thanks a lot..."
Then I realized, the roll being half-through my digestion, Uddalok half through the pavement and the others full through from my reach, I paid the whole 95 bucks!..
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
A place where the usual purpose of toilet was never fulfilled........its a place of masti, splashing water 2wards each other,using slangs, Sleeping (the skul bag acting as the perfect cosy pillow)...discussing about the gud looking girls and many more......the perfect place 2 bunk classes......We girls also used hang out there....And we used to laugh and pass comments on the boys "who used to rush 2wards the toilet"... :) ...it was everythng apart from being "just a toilet"....
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
A typical Chemistry Class taken by Samir Sir:
Samir Sir : Define Atom.
Student A : Stands up and stares down--he/she doesn't know the answer.
Samir Sir : Ei to !! Madhyamik e koto peyechile? 95 % ??
Goes around the class asking the same question.
Student B : Smallest indivisible particle.
Samir Sir : Bosse Por ! Ei -- points at Student C sitting beside student B
Student C : The smallest indivisible particle of any matter which takes part in a chemical reaction.
Samir Sir: Bosse por ! Kissu Janish Na. Tao Madhyamik e 98%. Points at Student D raising hand.
Student D: Adjusts glasses and blurbs out : "An atom is the defining structure of an element which cannot be broken down by any chemical means and generally consisting of a central nucleus of protons and neutrons surrounded by electrons."
Samir Sir: With a rapturous voice - Hollo Na. He further goes on to explain - Atom is the smallest particle of matter - jetake bhanga jay na kono chemical reaction die- bujhecho? Ei to jamana poreche. Madhyamik e shob star, superstar - megastar (with rhythmic 3 clicks of his fingers) othocho atom ki hoye janena. Oi je chota. Shobai chota kore.
Goes to the board- takes out a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and starts drawing an atom while taking quick glances at the small piece of paper.
Meanwhile everyone starts coughing and sneezing and coughing out again. Samir Sir looks back over his shoulder to find that everyone is busy drawing the same old atomic model with vigorous pen strokes. He turns his head back to the board and the whole class starts rubbing the soles of their shoes on the sandy classroom floor.
Samir Sir turns around and says - School e ei shob korte eshecho? Ei !!!!! points at Student E sitting just in front of Sir's nose. Bero - Bero. No water in classroom.
Student E: Very innocently - Sir, ektu jol khacchilam.
Samir Sir : Tui bero. Konno kotha hobe na. Amar class e keu jol khabe na. Almost pulls out Student E who strolls sadly along the aisle but comes back in just before the exit and occupies the seat beside his best friend on the last bench. Sir continues-- porikhar khataye does er bodole likhche d - o - s - e dose. Physics., chemistry to durer kotha - era bangla engrijee tao janena. Sob Chota - chota- chota- chota (accompanied by rhythmic finger-clicks)............
Turns back to the board and starts digging his shirt pocket for another piece of paper.
Student E: Sir apnar pocketeo to chota. (Very seriously)
Samir Sir: Ei bero-- bero-- just then his phone rings. He picks up his phone and starts speaking.
A refrain slowly rouses from the students " Ki demand; ki demand".
Sir, almost throws his phone- manages at the last moment only to throw away the duster and walks out of the room.
Chol chol chol,amra bandor dol
Gacher dale jhule jhule,
Kolar khosha khule khule
khabi kina bol??
Chol re chol re chol.....:-D
Akhn ei bandor guloi shob boro boro honu hoe gechi....bt lajta gojano montessori thekei start hoechilo monehoe:-)full credit to PB.
The earth’s wheels runs oiled with blood and sweat,
Of those who chose not to show regrets.
They are the real heroes, who have been forgotten,
They fight the real battles that life has sort them.
They are not the men in uniform,
They don’t become puppets as a new day dawns,
They are the wisest of them all-
Missing out the march of this retreating world.
They are the real makers of the world;
Yet they are abstained from its riches so called.
They have the strength to turn a master of puppets-
Into a puppet to master; yet they chose not to proceed,
Proceed a road of greed and hunger.
They are born free with a destiny,
A destiny none other than to be free.
This freedom is of no tolerance of the other in captivity,
They are thus just like any other puppet to the captors.
Waiting freely to be captured in tranquility,
But they are the true lovers they cant be captured;
So they bravely face the blade when they are tortured.
They show no pain, they show no fear,
For pain and fear will bring about their tears.
For this endless torture driven by greed,
Bares within it a poisonous seed.
A seed that will grow when their tears fall,
Rust shall the wheels of this forsaken world.
Monday, June 21, 2010
amra khorgosh dole dole..
bash kori oi gachero tole.
korai shuti r kofi khete lutoputi jai shobai mile..
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Saturday, June 19, 2010
This was what patha bhavan used to look like, there are many a students out there, who miss their time at patha bhavan, but to me the ones who really miss our school, and the school really misses, are none other than the wonderful poems that god once wrote upon this earth, yes i am talking about the trees, which were fell down at the end of our school lives, which i thought recorded nothing but our emptiness... one day i went to school and found my patha bhavan in pieces, and what was remaining of it was being brutally cut down, i stood there in awe!!!, during my short term at patha bhavan i never felt such a harsh and cold chill climbing through my veins, and mixed emotion of anger sorrow,betrayal, and futility. the students didn't even get to know of this sinister plan of the school authority, which was executed during the weekends, if i had known, i would have stood up against it along with my batchmates... i still remember i stood there with my watery eyes with few of my friends, and one of our teachers abhijitda, it was the first time i got the taste of the harsh world ahead of us... later it was told that the trees had to be cut down in order to get the plan of the new patha bhavan building sanctioned, and all the time we have been taught that new should not come at the cost of the old.it was here that i was taught new could never be the new unless exists the old. it was hard, it is still hard to imagine patha bhavan with out its ever spreading shadowy ground.the future students will not miss a thing that they will never have. But to us the leaning tree to sit upon, the 'BEL GACH' which provided us with football.the shadows where so many found their love.the squirrels and the titanic honey comb...was our heaven on earth, heaven that belonged to us...
Friday, June 18, 2010
Before the start of the session I left for a trek to Pindari Glacier from my Behala home and came back (to my new) home at Salt Lake. The transition had begun- from next week would begin my first days at Patha Bhavan. For a 10 year old boy, his life had changed completely. He never looked back over his shoulders again in fear of nostalgic memories.
During the first few months at school I hated everything except my new friends. I hated the poor infrastructure and the fact that in an English-medium school the language of instruction was Bengali in most of the cases. But slowly I grew into the unique (which many people like to term as 'homely' ) atmosphere of Patha Bhavan. And then there was no looking back. It was the best of times; it was the worst of times for me. There I found friendship and love; I found hatred and love; I found backstabbing and love; I found gay-love and love. The bottom-line is I found Love.
Patha Bhavan carved me into the nude-in-public David that I am today and I am forever grateful.
Collage of memoirs:-
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
The real asset of Patha Bhavan is not its academic excellence, neither the infrastructure, not even the proud established alumni. But it is the very own motherly environment that makes a new little boy feel so homely. This environment is simply so great and I don't think there is one specific word in any language to describe this. So lets have a new proverb -"An environment like that of Patha Bhavan."
This photograph is of our Primary Department, where we studied from the 1st to the 4th standard. I'll always remember the teachers like Swarupa Miss, Rekha Miss, Sheema Miss and Sanghamitra Miss. They contributed a lot of what I am today.
When today I see the students of the Primary I really can't believe that I was also that little one day, and find it amazing that I changed so much but PB remained the same.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Saturday, June 12, 2010
This is me(left) and my friend Soumyadip(right). He was also my Lab-partner. Apart from being each others Lab-partner, we were also fazlami-partners, kobita-partners, khawa-partners, class-e-kotha-bolar-partners and many more..
The photograph was taken by our beloved Arijit De