Friends

It's nice to have some friends with whom you can be yourself. Just sit back and listen to them and that in itself makes you happy. School and college friends usually comprise this elite category but it's rare to also have ex-colleagues with whom you are still in touch and long to reunite with, from time to time.
When we were young, there were friends and best friends. Now I feel enlightened. After many tests and trials, I feel I'm lucky to have friends at all. The world nowadays being what it is, that is cause enough for celebration. At the end of the day, there are few people who would actually be there with you, any time of the day and night. To just listen without judgement. I myself have few friends to whom I would be so attached. But yes, I am lucky to have quite a few.
Those of you whom I have never been able to open my heart to (you know whom I mean), thank you for being there. I'm glad you're my friends.

Baby Banerjee

My friend D just had a caesarean. She was supposed to be operated on around late February, but due to complications (which involved a sudden and sharp decrease in the amniotic fluid, triggering breathing trouble in the baby), the entire process of delivery was precipitated much earlier than it would have been otherwise. Her hubby, B, a close friend of ours, called us the day before the procedure took place to inform us about this unexpected development. So, one the next day, we reached the Bhagirathi Neotia nursing home (supposedly the best in maternity and child care right now in Kolkata) and narrowly missed seeing our friend being wheeled into the OT. There was a period of anxiety, excitement and feverish anticipation as I waited downstairs in the lobby in the company of both sets of parents, D's elder brother (who insists on addressing me as a senior each time we meet for reasons best known to him), B's maternal aunt and uncle and a colleague of B. I proved to be an unexpected moderator for the smalltalk that was evidently a strained effort to conceal the concern underlying the apparent composure on everyone's faces. K informed me later that he and his friend were extremely jittery as they sat upstairs, just outside the OT, wondering whether the operation would go off uneventfully or...

Fortunately, everything turned out fine. Debarati gave birth to a bonnie (if slightly premature) boy of 2.7 kg weight at around 11.45 am on Sat, 6th Feb 2010. Everyone immediately embarked on frantic efforts to trace similarities between the facial features of the parents and that of the newborn, much to our mirth. The only assertion that one could possibly and justifiably make at that point of time was that Baby Banerjee sported a fine growth of hair already on his baby head. The proud mama (maternal uncle) insisted on treating us each to Rs 8 worth of gooey, high-cal gulab jamun at the T-Junction stall within the premises of the clinic. We went home, a happy couple, calling up friends and relatives on the way to give them this good news and assuring them that we'd provide concrete follow-ups on the former by way of photos on orkut or via email.

The entire incident succeeded in creating one serious point of contention between K and me : if I insisted on being Mashi (maternal aunt) to the baby and K insisted on being Kaku (paternal uncle); how exactly would bystanders interpret our own relationship ?

A CRICKET MATCH

Game in progress :

We accompanied the Shindes on Saturday, 25th July, to Woodbridge, near Edison, where the NY-NJ League Cricket Finals (J & J, TCS and AIG, TCS) were taking place on a school playground. Other apparently choice locales had been rejected since they refused to allow any sort of activity on the grounds without having each and every player insured. No one was keen on taking such trouble, so the school, which did not create any such fuss, was accorded the due respect. We set out at about 11 am, armed with newspapers, sunscreen, granola bars, water, caps and hats and all the other paraphernalia necessary to sitting on a carpet of grass in summer for the sake of boosting the morale of the players (K's colleagues and our friends). We were specially prepared to cheer Madhav, whose wife was in India at that moment and who was also nursing an injured back, owing to a muscle he had pulled in an earlier match leading upto the finals and who wasn't therefore in a very happy frame of mind. We were also looking forward to watching Ankesh, who had done us all proud by notching up numerous runs to our credit in former matches and had thereby gained the reputation of a bankable player. Besides, there were Ajoy, Rensil, Tridib Da, Sumitro etc who we were all quite pally with and eager therefore to watch in action.

The gathering :

The game had already begun by the time we arrived. There was quite a gathering, mostly the family of the players and others like us, who evidently considered it their prime moral duty to utilise their Sat morning by cheering their own team and booing the other. The best example of this was one worthy spouse of a player in the other team who kept on crying out at suitably spaced intervals " We want wicket !", initially with considerable enthusiasm and later it seemed, out of sheer inertia of vociferation. Poor thing, she had evidently had no breakfast and was evidently keen on having some wickets instead.

Mid-day scene :

There were several chairs, mostly occupied by spouses of the other team members and we weren't sure whether we should be impudent enough to go grab the former. After considering the matter for several awkward moments, we opted out and settled down instead on a large mattress spread out for the occasion. Most of the boys prefered to remain standing (Abhishek and K obviously feeling that their providing company to their team would somehow compensate adequately for not playing in the actual match themselves).

The boys look on :

The HR proved themselves quite well equipped for the situation, handing out packets of Lays chips and bottles of water and soda at frequent intervals and even providing mini packages of Papa John's pizza for lunch (veg and non-veg ones stacked respectively in the dicky of a car and its front seat).

Alas. Our team, which was batting, outdid themselves. I think the fact that their last practice match had taken place the very day before this one must have messed up their muscles and morale. They looked quite tired and behaved quite spent. The extreme heat and scorching sun did nothing to make things better. Wickets fell, thick and fast. Despite some ear-splitting whistles from Abhishek and hoarse cheering from another team member I was unacquainted with (to the effect of pointing out that there were too many wides and no-balls and too much 'chucking'), things didn't go well. Sumitro later said that the pitch had seemed scarily long to him while Ankesh looked quite baffled, having been bowled out from behind (he was to remain mystified for the rest of the day). Madhav looked worse than before, having strained his already injured back muscle and not being able to make too many runs in such a sorry situation, although he did hit an overboundary and I clapped enthusiastically till my hands were sore. Ajoy, Rensil, Tridib Da were back by the time we were just warming up to watch them. In short, things were pretty grim by the end of the first session.

Post-lunch, our team seemed to be picking up. The fielding was consistent and the bowling edgy. But the other team proved too well-organised and strategically sound to outdo. It was evident that the game would soon be over and we soon diverted our energies to watching the children in their activities than the game itself.

Children play their own games :

It was. The prize distribution ceremony took place almost immediately. Mr Suri, president of TCS, North America, did the honours. No mean feat that, considering he had flown in from India that very morning and must have been quite exhausted after a 20 hours' journey. He also cheered up everyone by stressing that the game had been played in the right spirit and that was what mattered at the end of the day.

Mr Suri :

The trophy, close up :

The runners up were all given mini-trophies and their captain, the legendary BRM(owing to his talent for procrastination) Ravi Rout, regaled all present with a short speech in which he hinted at another form of spirit being anticipated later, win or no win. The winning team took centrestage after that, one team member mysteriously nicknamed 'Funny' (Phani ?!) being cheered so noisily that it almost verged on booing. So much for etiquette. Finally, there was a photo session, where everyone from the respective teams, players or no, posed to oblige us.

The score-board :

The runners-up, TCS_ J & J :

The winners, TCS_ AIG :

I was secretly glad that the awards ceremony didn't last too long, because I'd left my cap on the grass under the shade of the tree where we'd been sitting and felt like my scalp was on fire, the sun was so offensively hot at that point of time (about 2.30 pm). To top it all, Sumitro announced that we had proved quite inauspicious after all. Talk of ingratitude ! We left soon after, although our departure was somewhat unexpectedly delayed by the heating up of the leather seats in Abhishek Shinde's car, which meant we had to wait haplessly in the fierce sunshine with the car doors wide open, while the car AC cooled down the seats enough for us to rest our sensitive behinds on it !

OF PLANS AND PLATITUDES

This weekend started on a fairly mundane note, we spending Sat morning doing some shopping at Walmart. One of K's colleagues, Kaushik, called up in the afternoon and expressed his desire that we get together for an adda session and he was duly encouraged to come over for the same. The adda was just warming up, with K and the former (both of a similar reserved temperament) just beginning to show signs of relaxing their guard in complex areas such as emotion and experience, when there was a sudden and quite unexpected interruption. Another colleague called, announcing an impromptu plan to set forth about 40 mins later for a spur-of-the-moment group outing to the nearby Laurence Harbour. K and I were in a bit of a fix. For although all of us were quite amenable to the idea, it wasn't good manners to rush a visitor through dinner, especially when he wasn't of the eat-and-go type. Fortunately, however, he seemed totally unperturbed by all the rushing and fussing and managed to enjoy his dinner in the midst of it all. We all assembled at the parking lot of Mayflower Apartments in Piscataway, home to several members of the group, and set off with three cars around 11.30 pm. We reached the projected destination within half-an-hour and that rather too eventfully for my taste : Kaushik taking exits at exactly the same speed that he seemed to be driving on on the highway, which could range anywhere between 80-100 miles/hr, scaring me into donning seatbelts (which I usually hate and prefer to avoid if and whenever possible) even on the backseat of the car. Coupled to that was his preference for really loud music. I'm lucky I still have my hearing intact after the volume at which he seemed to prefer his songs.

Anyway, we were all glad we'd fallen in with the plan, once we'd reached the place and taken a look.


Of course, it was pitch dark at the waterfront and too dimly lit for quality photography, but there was a keen sea breeze with a sharp tang to tantalise our senses and cool us down. Besides, the long boardwalk was interestingly structured, with benches at decent intervals and numerous nooks and corners designed to encourage romantic rendezvous.

In fact, we ourselves stumbled upon a quite classic instance of the latter at one end of the boardwalk, which jutted right into the quietly rippling, ruffling water itself. The couple concerned were unabashed by our rude and often rowdy interruptions and seemed quite lost in their own world, romancing with ruthless abandon throughout the duration of our halt, which might have lasted for half-an-hour, or maybe even longer. Some of us ventured down though the steel fencing and made our way to the rocks, where we sat quietly, watching the blue-black sheets of water slide towards the white sand, stumble and mutter a pained, smothered retreat. There was something immeasurably soothing about those sombre, still moments that we spent there, quite difficult to put into words but certainly offering a pacifying, placating compensation for the immeasurable cruelty and clutter in our everyday lives.

After we made it to the other end of the pier and back, we were both tickled and tantalised by the sight of a couple, who were just settling down on the sands, under the stars, for what seemed like a good night's sleep. "Poor fellows, they don't have the money to buy a fan or AC and decided they'd cool down the natural way", I sympathised. Needless to say, most of the others had considerably more obscene explanations to offer.

The outing ended with dessert at the Gulatis' place on Mercer Street, Somerville, which consisted of the residual tiramisu and cheesecake from Sritama's birthday. We finally ended up in bed at 3 pm, me remembering just in time to call Tua to wish her on her birthday. She was considerably mystified, of course, to find us wide awake at that ungodly hour. It was also Titai's birthday but we had had the good sense to call her up when we were out on the rocks, quite literally.

That reminds me : Titai informed us that Abir had been to his first day's shoot of Anjan Dutt's adaptation of Saradindu's Byomkesh story Adim Ripu (Primal Instinct) that very morning. And I was pleasantly surprised to find it had been covered by today's TOI too. What fun ! And I seriously think Abir's looks in general contribute quite felicitously to the character in question. Am definitely looking forward to the film.

Sunday afternoon was spent scouring shops for a new pair of formal shoes for K. We did the rounds of Walmart, Target, Kohls and Marshall's, quite annoyed at the lamentable dearth of options for men and the exorbitant price tags. We finally found a happy deal at Payless Shoesource, which we therefore judged as thoroughly worthy of its name. So K has gone to office, a happy man today, sporting a new haircut and new shoes. The last time I'd been to Great Clips, I'd spotted an impressive haircut look on one of the 'Inspire' magazines they seem to stock a great deal of. This time though, I had the presence of mind to photograph it on my cellphone, for future reference :

After a very late lunch of bhaat, daal and tandoori butter chicken at 4.30 pm (!), we took a short nap and dropped in at the Maitis' place at Somerset Mews. They've bought a good deal more furniture recently and the apartment looks really pretty now. I took a few photos and Moumita was glad that at least she'd possess a couple of photos to send to her friends, who were bugged with her lethargic inability to share the same with them for a long time now. Well, I'm glad my photographic sorties are proving to be of some use to someone. K doesn't take it seriously most of the time !

Well anyway, after a pleasant adda, we were back home, doing such mundane tasks as cooking. We ate very little dinner and spent a happy pre-bed hour reading and net-surfing respectively (no prizes for guessing who was engaged in the latter). Btw, we've finally discovered the immense difference between the effects of yellow and white light, and are relieved we finally plumped for the latter. Nothing like cool, clear light to encourage one's reading habits, that's for sure.

Memorial Day Vacation -2

Well, but apart from the ducks, there were actually other distractions in the Main Street region of Lake Placid. Foremost was the nature of downtown itself, which looked like the ideal vacation spot...people in summer attire with just a light jacket or wrap draped casually over their shoulders, strolling about with soda or coffee cups or icecreams in their hands with no definite aim in mind except appearing aimless, huge groups making merry in their own quiet or boisterous way at dinner in the smart roadside restaurants (which sported menus with prices alongside on their doors and walls itself, making it easy for passers-by to make up their minds about whether or not to enter at all), Memorial Day sales going on at most of the big stores, a crisp and bright sky above us and the Mirror Lake, with a beautiful natural waterfront which looked all the more enticing with a few additional strategic accessories, such as a couple of artificial terraces, a few stray deck chairs and a small glass greenhouse skirting the lake itself. Somehow that seemed to have increased the appetite of a huge group of holidaying Indians, who were all gulping down huge mouthfuls of bhelpuri/chaat for what seemed like an endless era. We eyed the area appreciatively and sent the boys to get coffee while we scoured the Gap store by the lake, succumbing to the lure of the 'Upto 50% Sale' Posters.

The 'GAP' store :

Sure enough, the boys ended up with 2 T-shirts each, falling into our "yeah, bargain !" traps (although I must confess I was astonished to find myself magically unaffected by the great bargains and actually exiting the store with nothing but my handbag in tow). Luckily, they were so elated at the prospect of more clothing options (somehow they always end up after packing with insufficient spare clothing, according to us of course) that they remained in a good mood for the rest of the evening, indifferent to Moumita and my constantly attempting to try their patience by stopping umpteen times for photos and inexplicably disappearing into every second roadside store that happened to catch our eyes (too frequent an occurrence for anyone's comfort and enough to annoy a person of the most philosophic temperament). Our ventures were however rewarded at one particular store by a most well-behaved and mild-mannered lady of the canine variety, who seemed to be attending to the counter while the real owner lady chatted with a friend. She even obliged our click-happy selves by gazing right into the lens, unperturbed by the spark of the flash.

The remarkable canine specimen :

But the most memorable part was the half hour we spent lazing by the Mirror Lake, which deserved every cent of its name, with its crystal clear surface. There was a duck couple swimming about near our very feet, who took very little interest in human activities or exclamations and only waddled right onto the bank and upto our feet to check for accidental crumbs (which , much to the hilarity of the others, caused me to panic and grab my bag from its reclining position on the grass, as if anatine characteristics included bag-snatching).


The duck couple :




Despite the 'Please Do Not Feed the Ducks' (which the bhelpuri family decided to follow most religiously), there was an Indian couple which decided to do exactly what they were not supposed to do. Even worse, their liberal supplies of crumbs to the unfortunate birds seemed to consist entirely of buttery popcorn, which probably wouldn't exactly be what the vet would have recommended as part of their diet. We pretended not to notice. After all, everyone was on vacation and the last thing they would have wanted was an impromptu lecture on the morality of feeding ducks.

Mirror Lake :

The view by the lake was like something out of a fairytale, it was so perfect and pristine, so still and serene. We could have spent an entire day there, just listening to the hushed chatter of people around us, the giggles of playing children, the sighing breeze fluttering our hair just the gentlest bit, watching the swimming ducks dig around for worms in the wet grass, the tiny ripples tickling the clear surface of the lake and the houses in the horizon that merged into trees that merged into mountains that merged into clouds that....well, you get the idea.

Felt like heaven :

By the way, the boys failed to win 'Mission Venison'. Apparently, it not being the hunting season, deer meat was not readily available. (It's a totally different issue that our rafting guide Sam mentioned the next morning that he wished he'd known, since he had some venison lying at home in his refrigerator a couple of days ago and would have loved to share a bite with us.)

K, in the quest for venison :

Anyway, before we were finally persuaded to prepare for departure, I as usual casually sauntered into a smart looking restaurant bang in mid-downtown, used the restaurant to freshen up (what a bizarre euphemism, I've always thought !) K is always scared that the staff are not going to be very polite if they notice that I don't really intend to order anything at these places except for working flushes...he behaves as if someone's going to arrest me or something until I actually exit the place without anyone even noticing me most of the time. Moumita being my worthy accomplice today, both the boys were equally jittery until we finally marched out with praiseworthy poise and relieved them (no pun intended) , apparently unharmed after all.

Anyway, we finally set out for the hotel, almost 2 and a half hours away....it was 8 pm when we set out and now, our prime concern was where we should finally obtain dinner. This is what has always struck me as bizarre : the fact that even on weekends, one usually considers oneself lucky if one manages to find any diner functional at the perfectly plausible hour of 10 pm. This is one of the few things that we're yet to become acclimatised to : the fact that people here rise with the sun and retire with sunset, have dinner at 6-7 pm and top it off with a miniscule supper of cookies and milk at what would be our normal dinner-time or haunt the refrigerator in the dead of darkness for a midnight snack to satisfy sudden pangs of hunger. It's obviously the most practical thing to do, I've always thought, given the pattern of late evening sunshine in the northern hemisphere, but we being used to an entirely different set of food timings on the other side of the earth and in a tropical zone, simply cannot order our bodies to follow a similar rhythm. Hence, we were driving back, hoping to stop at some rare highway exit diner along the way, which catered to the eccentric travellers' whims. However, most seemed to be closed or closing, indicated from a distance by dimmed lights, neatly stacked upturned chairs on tables, the lack of any vehicles whatsoever in parking lots and more obviously, by the utter absence of any human being in the premises. Well, we were getting more or less reconciled to dining on our stock of travel snacks that night, especially considering that even the fast food joints nearby the hotel seemed to have downed shutters. We were singularly lucky to find the local Wendy's 'drive-thru' functional. We ordered salads and wraps at a point before the actual window, addressing a disembodied loudspeaker presence (Sabya Da did the honours actually, while we collectively prompted him), which repeated our orders for confirmation. A couple of mins later, we were happy humans, receiving our night's supply of food through the drive-thru window at the back of the eatery. We stumbled into the hotel, bidding each other goodnight at the stairs, into our respective rooms, where a shower later, we were having a healthy dinner (we were the salad freaks, of course) and hit the bed. Actually, K was snoring quite audibly, by the time I had worked my way halfway through my stack of greens. It wasn't very good manners to fall asleep with the TV on, but he was too tired, of course, to take that into consideration !

(To be contd...)

Memorial Day Vacation - I

This has been the single most memorable experience of my life till date, undoubtedly. Kaustav, Sabya Da, Moumita and I recently decided to spend our Memorial Day long weekend vacationing in up-state New York in the Lake George-Lake Placid region. We set out at about 6.45 am on Sat morning, Sabya Da and K taking turns at driving the rented car for a distance of about 256 miles (413 km) for about 4 hrs. We stopped for coffee once in between at a Nathan-Roy Rogers where we'd lunched once previously, en route our trip to the Catskill Mountains in fall.


Breakfast break :



Otherwise, breakfast and snacks (which took place in the midst of driving) consisted of little things both families had bought expressly for this trip, like bottled water, juice, granola bars, chips, sliced cake and biscuits. The day was cloudy with occasional burps of sunshine but we were prepared for a drop in temperature at our destination, both being near water bodies. We reached our hotel near Lake George around 11 am, where we were told that we'd have to wait for our 2 rooms for an hour more, since they were full and people had just begun the process of checking out for the day, which meant rooms needed to be cleaned etc, entailing another hr's delay. So we plumped for the only room then available on the ground floor, sat and watched TV for a while and then decided to utilise the time more productively by having lunch.


Our hotel :




We drove to the nearest Taco Bell, a little over 10 mins' drive and ended up with a bonus, great views on both sides of the car and a Long John Silvers counter shared with the Taco Bell one, which meant we had greater options, of course.


Lunch :


A delightful lunch and a photo-session later, we were back at the hotel, taking showers and changing into fresh clothes. We found our jackets quite handy, as there was a keen wind with quite a chill in it, in the area. We set out at about a quarter past one for the Lake Placid region, aiming to cover a few things we'd set our hearts on, which included a 20 mins' flight over the highest peaks of the Adirondacks, offering breathtaking views at an affordable price per individual, a visit to the Winter Olympics stadium in the area and an eight-mile car hike along the Whiteface Veterans Memorial Highway to the mountain tops. However, it was difficult, despite our best efforts, to fit everything into one day. The Olympics stadium, which K and I were all worked up about, had closed for the day at 1 pm, and the hiking trail had also shut office at 4 pm. However, we had such fun on the plane trip, that we found it possible to drown our grief in our excited discussion of the whole experience.



After we'd decided which of the two air trips (see site for details) we wanted to opt for and had paid for our tickets, we were taken by the pilot, quite an old and frail man (which did nothing to quell our fears of possibly not returning alive), to our plane. Asked to shortlist our co-pilot, Sabya Da was egged on to do the honours, while K decided to be our bodyguard (quite literally) at the rear. Getting into the plane itself was a tough job for K and me, since there was a projecting horizontal spike which was supposed to act as a footstool, and K and my being quite tall by Indian standards did nothing to ease the process. Luckily, no one seemed to care about taking photos of our ungainly entries into the plane, caught as we each were in our respective flight related insecurities.

Moumita's fishing out an air-sickness bag from the back of the front seats and our being informed that the day being particularly windy, we should be prepared for an occasionally rough and bumpy ride, made our expectations of any enjoyment from this trip seem rather unlikely. Putting on huge headphones and being shown our only mode of communication, a cordless phone lookalike receiver, where whatever we said to each other would be hard by everyone else, was an additional source of intimidation. With seatbelts in place, I began to wonder whether we would be able to take photos at all in such a straitjacketed state.

Inside the plane :





As it turned out, our fears were quite ill-founded. The ascent was smooth and steady, the panoramic views a visual feast, communication unnecessary, photographs taken aplenty and except for one small and abrupt dip where my heart skipped a beat, uneventful. No one suffered from motion sickness, no one screamed or fainted, and although vision and movement was slightly limited on all sides, each one had his or her share of magnificence to gloat over and reflect on.


The visual panorama :

Hills, rivers, roads, lakes, mountains, ski tracks, we observed everything that our guide and pilot pointed out to us along the trip with irreproachable enthusiasm and that was quite evident to him on our descent, when we barraged him with requests to share a photo with us. He was happy to oblige.

As I mentioned earlier, our other two destinations were to disappoint us, so we were forced to make fresh plans. However, we did stop to take photos of the sites (some consolation, that) and even spent a quarter of an hour at Lake Stevens, a beautiful clear and picturesque water body located just by the office to the Veterans Memorial Highway office.

In and around the Winter Olympics Stadium (the gift shop items were ridiculously overpiced, which occasioned a prompt exit on our part):

Lake Stevens :

People were busy fishing in the lake and there were gnats galore hovering around the lake, so we had some snacks (K was settling down for a nap on the grass, but the insects were too much to contend with, so his repose was cut short prematurely) and left soon after. We had now resolved to return to the Olympics stadium site where we had spotted a picturesque lake on our way to the aerodrome, intending to make a prolonged halt there. The guys intended to scour the area for venison (which K's meat loving college junior cum ex-colleague, Shubho, insisted they should taste) and also give the car some rest. The latter, besides being a brand new one (having run only 25 miles on its way back from the showroom to the rental office) with stiff new parts, seemed to be emitting a strong burning smell for some reason and we decided to not take any risks with it, considering the considerable distance we still had to drive back to the hotel. So, after another impromptu photo-stop by a mountain river (where my usually inexhaustible camera battery gave out after snapping over 200 photos), we were at Main Street, by the Mirror Lake, watching the ducks.

The mountain river :

(to be continued....)

Talent, thy Name is Tanima

Tanima, I recently discovered, is blessed with talent. She can draw and paint, knit and crochet, design and sew, cook and create. That's a whole lot of skills, I would concede. Ever since I was young, my parents being Bengali parent prototypes, frowned on too much of extra-curricular activities, be they physical and strenuous or indoor and sedentary. Hence Mitu (my sibling) hardly found occasion to develop her evident passions for art and dancing, while I was not even the remotest bit encouraged to learn singing (thought in that my parents were a notable exception, since one of the most marriage-worthy features of Bengali girls are their mellifluous vocal flourishes) or any form of sports (although I was considered a decent athlete in school, especially in running and broad jump). While children of our age but enrolled in schools affiliated to other boards made the most of their evenings amidst games and giggles, we were advised to concentrate on our homework and hone our reading and spelling skills. Our longing glances outside the window at the fortunate others and our innocent childish comparisons were interpreted as rebellious rants and criticised with befitting asperity. Quite naturally, both of us grew up sallow and sickly, our immune systems ill-developed and our aesthetic aspirations nipped in the bud. I was fortunate enough to fare well academically but my sister, alas, was a victim of our educational system, too mediocre to do our parents proud. When I had the intrepidity of advising her to refrain from taking up science at the higher secondary stage, my parents (and so-called well-wishers) suspected the nobility of my intentions. She did not fare well in the concerned exam. Not because she was not intelligent but because she could not relate to science and the excessive dedication necessary to do decently in the board exams. And so surprise surprise, the victim became the scapegoat herself.

When I outraged my father by deciding to pursue English at JU instead of appearing for the Joint Entrance Examinations and consequently, entering the hallowed (and what's more, tested, tried and typecast) portals of medicine or engineering, most people (especially relatives) suspected that I had failed to clear the former exams. I persevered, undaunted, and did manage to draw the attention of most of the professors who matter (and are living legends, so to say) at JU. My attachment to my subject was so strong that although I did burn the oil at all ends and do quite well in both my graduate and post-graduate levels, I actually managed to thoroughly enjoy the whole tenure too. However, it was then that I discovered at the numerous college fests, to my immense dismay, that there lay a whole wide world beyond the academic threshold, where people were respected and even celebrated for their innate talents in singing, dancing, debating, dramatic acting, drawing or athletic abilities. Where they won accolades and were remembered for years to come, with fondness and envy, respect and even reverence.

And later, when I worked as counsellor and tutor at an institute in South Kolkata offering guidance, training and counselling services to students who wished to pursue higher studies abroad, I discovered that their target countries preferred all-rounders to mere rankers. Where just showing a decent GRE score would not ensure entry into an esteemed school or university. And when I went to interview people in the course of freelancing for a newspaper story on MBA as the latest career fad for 'The Statesman', this fact was reinforced by the astonishing avowal of the Regional Manager of the leading CAT-training institute in Kolkata, that even the IIMs considered the CAT score one of numerous other eligibility criteria to study the much desired stream. Extracurricular activies scored well there too. I was traumatised.

I have now learned to respect anything and everything that lies beyond the scope of our limited educational endeavours in India. I was the strongest and only supporter of Mitu when she proved drastically radical in her choice of career and went for fashion designing. I knew she had potential and would do justice to all the expenses that would be incurred in course of her academic training. I would not allow my parents to repeat the mistake they had made with me. I won prizes for art in school (in MHS). I did well in needlework class. Friends tell me I have a melodious voice and should have had it trained professionally. If my parents supported me, I might have taken up interior decoration. It fascinates me and I honestly believe I might have an aptitude for it. But maybe it's too late. Maybe I'm too old to start anew.

That's why I take vicarious enjoyment in Tanima's gifts. She says her parents rued her academic medicrity. I encourage her to overrule such orthodox assessments and believe, instead, that she is naturally gifted. Everyone, with a little effort, can do well in academics. You need to be blessed like Tanima to have other talents. God-gifted ones.

TANIMA'S TALENTS :

KNITTING....

CRAFTING....

DRESS-MAKING...