INHOUSE Magazine

Emirates Bengal Club of India

Online Issue year 2020

From the President’s Desk

About one and a half decade ago a few families in UAE joined their hands together and formed Emirates
Bengal Club of India in Sharjah to create “a home outside home”. That small association grew leaps and
bounds both in size and intellect and today has become one of the biggest & best Bengali club in UAE,
famously known as EBCI. EBCI takes remarkable strides to promote Bengali culture, values, tradition,
and heritage among our society and especially to our next generation. Our members soar high with their
inner artistic elements into the boundless rich culture of Bengal.
I am really honored to be a part of this EBCI family and having the opportunity to serve the club. This
year, in-spite recent pandemic (Covid-19) we kept moving on with our agenda by dint of undaunted
spirit of club members.
EBCI shifted to virtual platform within no time & continued to meet our EBCI families and to engage
ourselves from the angst. We have started a series of cultural extravaganzas and watch parties through
ZOOM and hopefully achieved a great success. I convey my hearty thanks to all the members for their
spirit and wholehearted participation to the events.
Another important step, which has been taken is to continue with our EBCI magazine PROYASH. This
gives an opportunity to showcase and nurture the inherent talents of members and their families.
We are pleased to announce this dynamic piece of creativity, freedom, self-expression, enthusiasm of our
members work, which is an amalgamation of the work of talented souls, along with the blend of unique
taste from each one, who has contributed for this magazine. Proyash is more than just a magazine, where
the potentials, talents, achievements, and vision of our club get reflected especially from juniors; and we
hope this association continues for a lifetime.
It is often seen that one of the biggest blocks to creativity is not allowing our mind to meander. Some of
the most inspiring ideas are the ones that start with a crazy concept. By allowing them with endless
possibilities, they may blossom into something divine.
I would like to conclude by quoting words of our former president Dr. A. P. J. Abdul Kalam,
“Dream, Dream, Dream
Dreams transfer into thoughts
And thoughts result in action
…Success will be yours.”

Prasenjit Ray
July 2020

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 SECRET GARDEN

It was pelting down heavily in Darjeeling. My driver Nabin, confident as always, was constantly
cursing each car which was swerving away from ours, while we were speeding through the
meandering mountain roads.

We soon reached a large white building; the freshly painted red cross above its entrance was
glistening as it still was quite fresh and oozing at the sides. It was the Rangit Tea Garden Workers
Welfare Hospital. It was not very elaborate but quite well known for its medical services, which
often spilled over outside the boundaries of the company. The parent company Rangit Tea
Company, was a well-known exporter of famous Darjeeling brew, started by Rathin Sen my
grandfather and then grown to great prosperity by Jatin Sen, my father, currently paraplegic since
last four years. I have been at the helm of affairs for almost ten years now giving my dad a long-
awaited retirement which was truly relished by him and maa.

-“How is the patient, doctor?” I asked my Chief Medical Officer Dr. Prabir Das, the best doctor in
North Bengal, my voice quivered nervously.
-“She is responding well to the medication, bleeding has stopped.”
-“Was she actually…” I could not complete the sentence, mentally trying to block the image of her
being subject to violence.
-“Raped?” asked Dr. Das, “No, but she did get beaten up by them, she is a tough lady, not only
did she manage to escape I believe she even hurt one of the goons pretty badly, she has even
given a good description of them to Gurung.”

Inspector Gurung was a buddy. I have known him since last six years or more. The goons were
already arrested and were being given special treatment as per my request. The stolen purse and
suitcase had been retrieved. Once done at the police station, they shall not be capable of even
fantasizing about molesting a lady.

“She had a concussion due to a head injury and had multiple fractures on her hands and feet as
she had jumped off the speeding car and rolled down a few boulders you see,” rambled along Dr.
Das, I heard him, slightly defocused, thinking of what to say when I meet her, how does she look
like these days…

Then came a nurse tugging Dr. Das away for some other urgent patient requirement. I turned
towards the room she was being put up. It has been 12 years, 3 cities, 2 break ups and one
marriage since I am going to meet Neena. Neena R Naidu, used to be just Neena Rao earlier.

The butterflies were working overtime inside my stomach as I reached the door of her room.
Despite my trench coat I was feeling cold, shivering slightly, felt just like the prelude to the first
interview, the first test, the first kiss… I cleared my throat which was getting choked as I tried to
brush the curtains of her cabin.

“Amit sir,” called a voice from behind me breaking the air of nervous silence that had surrounded
me, I turned, “bhabeeji just called, asked you to reach home early, some guests are expected,”
said Nabin.

-“Oh, Ok,” I said sheepishly and turned away from the patient’s room.

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-“Wont you visit your friend sir?” asked Nabin, confused as he practically flew me down here.

-“Let her rest, I … ah … will check up on her tomorrow,” I responded and quickly walked away,
did not want Nabin to get funny ideas. I hated myself for behaving like this. It was just Neena after
all, someone I knew from the past, ok maybe more than that, we actually used to live together in
an apartment at Ballygunge Place, Kolkata. But that was a long time back and both of us had
broken up, moved ahead in life, lost touch, got married, became parents and so on. But still she
managed to give flutters to the butterfly wings in my stomach. And I was trying to ask myself,
why?

The party ended late and by the time we wound up to our bed it was way past midnight. The
hangover still throbbed in my head teasingly, on and off. I walked down the balcony of the hospital
towards the room Neena was being treated. It was a bright sunny day after 2 days of rain. It
usually rains like this in late November in these hills to usher in a bitter spell of cold. I knocked
and entered and found the room empty. I was slightly confused, then turned towards a door
leading to an attached balcony. I walked through the curtains. There she was, lounging on a chair,
sipping tea, the sun weaving through her open hair, cascading down her long tresses. She was
wearing black rimmed shell spectacles that hid her black-eye and she had a bandage wrapped
around her forehead. She had grown much plumper, not the slim and fitness freak Neena I knew.

“Hi,” I croaked, embarrassing myself.

-“ Hey,” she tried to get up, her pearl white teeth flashed a smile that stayed with me for the past
12 years, long after she walked out of our apartment door, never to come back.
I asked her not to get up and pulled in a chair from her room to the balcony.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked looking at the flowery orgy of colors in the garden in front of the
balcony.
“Well, nature is kind to this part of the world,” I said.
She turned towards me; her face looked heavier than what it looked like 12 years back, but still
was very attractive.

I practically rehearsed in the bathroom in the morning and yet could not figure out what to speak
when I first meet her, but when I managed to speak, I spoke something extremely stupid.

“So how’s your Darjeeling trip going?” I asked and prayed for a landslide!
-“Oh damn good, just the violent attack in between sort of an extra twist in the tale dude,” she said
grinning.

She has not changed a bit, I sighed inside.

Then I eased up, I told her I was slightly busy so would need to rush and catch up next day and
left after an hour. The next few days I was with her for a couple of hours every morning. The
doctors, impressed with her speedy recovery planned to release her shortly.

-“You look very different, too mature …”

She cut me out mid-sentence, as always, “I was always mature, can’t say that is one of your
strongest virtues though,” she added with a wink.

-“But you more or less have remained the same, a little midlife crisis in the middle though,” she
said pointing at my irritating paunch with laughter, “I have become all bumsy and all,” she said

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slapping her wide hips which made her wince as it still hurt. They surely were not that wide when
I used wrap my arms around them.

We discussed about her project, she runs an NGO these days, which brought her to this part of
the world. She had settled in London for more than 10 years now. Her husband is an investment
banker and more serious golfer. They did not have a child.

-“So how old is … you have a daughter right …?” She asked, it was her last day in the hospital.
-“Yes, my Bubli,” I said, “six years old, naughty as hell, stubborn as her mom, short tempered like
her grandpa and so damn beautiful, just like maa,” I paused showing her snap on my mobile
phone, “she means everything to me.”

“I had these huge gynae problem,” she said her voice trailing off slightly as she flicked through
the pictures of my daughter on my cell phone, “but Mohan never wanted a surrogate or adopted
child …” she stopped speaking, her eyes moist as her fingers touched my screen, caressing my
daughter’s picture.

The uneasy silence that followed was broken by my cell phone suddenly starting to dance on her
hands, vibrating, it was my wife calling.

Reema, Reema Dasgupta as she was called 7 years ago when my mom introduced her to me. I
was struck by her frank and open mind, she was a one that makes you feel comfortable even
when she is speaking utter rubbish, makes you laugh out loud with her raw sense of humor, she
had been in love before and had a bitter break up about 2 years prior she met me, with a guy
called Siddarth. It was a fifth family gathering where we bumped into each other and I had asked
her something strange.

“How would you like if you had to grow old with me beside you?”
She looked at me, her big brown eyes boring into my soul, “you in love with me?” she asked.
-“I seriously don’t know,” I said sheepishly, “but I just want to see you every day, smell you, just
plain spend time with you …” she stopped me mid sentence and kissed me full on my lips with
uninhibited passion. We got married 2 months later.

Reema was beautiful woman, strong, raw in her emotions, embarrassingly honest, brutally
practical, but she still wanted roses and chocolates on every Valentine’s day, even after 7 years.

Off late she has become a fitness freak and that day I had to pick her up from her gym, that’s why
she called up, she still managed to look stunningly slim and lithe despite a child birth and 7 years
of marriage, a slight embarrassment to my growing waistline.

“I will be off for the weekend,” she said once she got into my car.
“Where are you going?”
-“Don’t you hear anything I say seriously,” she retorted, “I told you baba is not well and I need to
be in Kolkata over the weekend and Bubli shall also go along with me.”

I drove them to the airport. On the way back I picked up some whiskey for the weekend and once
done I called up the hospital. Neena I was told, has been discharged. I called her cell, she did not
answer.

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I spent some time in office and then went back home. I sat near the fireplace sipping whiskey. My
phone buzzed in a SMS. It was Neena. Wassup jackass ?

That is what she used to call me back then.

Flashback. Kolkata, the edge of the millennium, fresh out of B-school there they were, 2 brilliant
mavericks, Neena and I and our joint venture, ARBIT DESIGNS, the new ad agency in town. In
the cluttered and highly competitive world of advertising business, we surprisingly made a few
quick kills in succession and in less than 3 years we had a 30 member organization, making
money, partying till wee hours of the morning, slogging our rears off on projects and generally
having a good time.

It was after a new product launch of local brand of herbal hair therapy products, I was driving her
back home, she was high on vodka and our success, she then suddenly groped at my crotch. I
startled, the car swerved, I asked her what the heck she was up to.

-“As if I have never seen or felt it!” she exclaimed giggling, she was drunk or so I thought.
-“But I am driving, there are better and safer ways of doing such things you crazy woman,” I said.
-“I don’t care,” she said, “let us get married jackass!!”
I screeched the car to a halt.
-“What are you drunk or something?” I asked.
-“No, maybe but doesn’t matter, we are both in love, we are great in business, we rock on the
bed, so what is stopping us?” she asked with her hand on my cheek.

“Neena,” I tried to put on a serious face and tried to act as the mature one,” you are not in your
senses, let us talk about it in the morning.”

What ensued was a bitter, and to me a seemingly illogical and endless cold war.

Next day in office I thought we shall laugh about last night over a cup of coffee. But she behaved
strangely; she did not speak to me and avoided me. This continued for 2-3 days and then I
confronted her and called her inside the conference room and locked the doors.

“What is happening to us?” I asked her

-“You tell me,” she said, her face looked so stern.
-“I mean we have a good thing going, I mean this business is looking good, we can go places,
branch out and here you are acting funny.”
If looks could kill then her looks could have mutilated me that day.
“I am in love with you jackass,” she said, her eyes getting moist, “and I thought you felt the
same…”

We went on debating and quarrelling for next couple of days and months. The cracks in our
relationship became public, we started losing business and our staff started panicking and leaving
us. We soon decided to wind up.

“We didn’t need to end it this way,” I had told her, hurt to see our dreams getting shattered this
way.
-“I am getting married Amit,” she said.

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Amit! What happened to jackass??
“What? Who? Why??” I quizzed her, not believing her.

She came over to my apartment a week later to collect a few things of hers and give me an
invitation card, it read Mohan weds Neena.

“You are coming and bring uncle and aunty along,” she said affirmatively.
“I won’t come,” I blurted out, I could not control my emotions, I was feeling so much anger and
frustration, but could not explain why.

She left slamming the door behind her, but before that, for a moment she stood by the door and
looked back at me, a drop of tear rolled down her left eye, and she just uttered one word, “ jackass”

I drank till I lost consciousness on the day she got married. I told myself this is because she
breached our trust, broke friendship and avoided some other weird questions that kept rising in
my head, creepy thoughts about her sleeping with someone else, being close to a man other than
me…

12 years later, the question still remained in my head, why did I feel so bad, a question I had
always avoided. Next afternoon I had a lunch date with Neena. I was shit nervous.

We went to Glenary’s, there was some event going on there and everyday they had a live band
during lunch time. A crooner was singing oldies from primarily the 70s and early 80s soft rock and
pop scene that day as I waited for her to join. She said she would meet me straight over there
after wrapping up her work and refused my offer to pick her up.

She came dot on time as usual and was looking stunning, she was wearing a beige trench coat,
her thick mane swaying as she turned towards me through the door, my heart missed a couple of
beats and I could not help it.

We started to talk about our good times in B-school, the way we bunked classes, ragged juniors,
had our first joint together and the time had starting moving in an anti-clockwise direction as we
got drenched in a warm pool of buddy talk.

In the midst of mindless laughter, she suddenly stopped and said,“ I am leaving tomorrow jackass!

I stopped laughing. The crooner was belting out Abba’s Winner takes it all, the lines grew louder
as if, maybe, when the verse said, tell me does she kiss, like I used to kiss you, does it feel the
same, when she calls your name …

It started to drizzle outside.

But I could not say anything for the next few minutes neither did she. She slowly put her hand on
mine. It felt so warm and so beautiful.

“I am taking a bus, guess I am too sexy to ride a private car,” she said with a typical Neena-gives-
me-a-throaty-laugh.

I tried to persuade her to allow me to drop her to the airport but she declined. I walked with her,
our hands brushing occasionally as we approached the bus stand. It was getting chilly.

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As her bus started to leave, her eyes kept looking at me as if asking me a thousand questions,
and I realized that no one else shall ever look at me ever like that. I waved at her with a football
stuck at my throat. I thought she was mumbling something. I guess to her I shall always be, a
jackass I drove back home.

Reema requested me to take the day off on Monday. Generally I would argue about it but I just
complied to her wish that day. In the afternoon after Bubli went off to sleep, we made passionate
love. Lying in each others arms under the blanket, diffusing in each others warmth, I felt her breath
on the nape of my neck and along with it something else, it was tears, she was crying.

-“Hey what’s up?” I asked, “is baba all right?”

-“He is fine,” she said wiping her eyes on my shoulder, “I lied to you.”
I still did not get it, when will I understand women??

-“I have never lied to you ever since I met you,” she went on, “but last few months I have been
again connecting with Sid, over Facebook,” she stopped and looked up to my eyes.

I was getting uncomfortable at this stage but still trying to figure out what next.

“Sid was suffering from cancer for the past four years,” she said sitting up, brushing her hair
backwards with her hands, “it was his death wish that before leaving this world he wants to meet
me once.”

-“So you went to meet him?” I asked, she nodded her head hanging low.

-“So is he …?”
-“Dead?” she responded, “Gosh no, not yet, but it could be anytime now.”
Then tears started welling up again, “I should not have lied to you, maybe I should not have even
gone but I could not stop myself … I thought you would not understand… and I hid it from you...”

I stopped her and hugged her tight.

“It is no big deal,” I re-assured her, “he was your first love and now you have come to know he is
dying, it is but natural.”
-“But at least I should have let you know,” she again started.
-“It is alright sweetheart,” I said caressing her, “life is a long walk through winding roads of
darkness and light, and sometimes en-route we take some time off and go for a short walk into a
secret garden, spend some time there and pay respect to past relationships.”

I stopped to look into her eyes, “what is important is we still keep walking, side by side, hand in
hand,” she again buried her head in my chest and I held her tight, “that’s all that matters and the
rest is just like a dream,” she soon fell asleep, as I rocked her gently in my arms.

My phoned started buzzing. Neena messaged me, she had landed safely at London, she did not
thank me for the help she got from me back here. She just wrote: Never mix Abba, Gelnarys,
Darjeeling and an old lover, the result just roots in your head, too surreal to be true, too real to be
forgotten.

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Outside in our garden, the flowers were getting ready to romance the dews through the night, only
to bloom again in the morning to fall in love with the bees.

- Arindam Sengupta

Artwork by Mrs. Sonali Ray

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Featuring – Ms. Rupali Rakshit, Project Delivery Manager, Petrofac International
Not only a singer par excellence, composer & lyricist, entrepreneur and what not, she is a
hardworking leader and team player always ready to tackle all odds in Oil & Gas industry
Project Management.

I share my birthdate with the likes of Bertrand Russell, Yannick Noah, Omar Khayyam!!! Born in
Agartala, the capital city of the culturally rich state of Tripura where legends like SD Burman and
RD Burman have their roots, obviously singing came to me in all forms – from lullaby to music
lessons to chirping of exotic birds.
My parents, as self-made successful individuals, were revered and respected by all. Yet they
remained grounded and always stood by the needy and downtrodden in whichever way feasible.
I presume that kind of exposure at an impressionable age has conditioned me to always being
very sensitive towards the needs of others.
My schooling was from the pioneer institutes Holy Cross School, Agartala and Pratt Memorial
School, Kolkata. Although convents with strict discipline regimen, the atmosphere was
refreshingly cosmopolitan which enabled a holistic development. Physics and Maths were my
favourite subjects. I was the typical ideal student throughout my school life, being sensible,
obedient and best in class, so not too many interesting episodes to narrate J. I thereafter pursued
B.E in Electrical Engineering at NITA followed by a PG course in Operations Management from
New Delhi.

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My most cherished memory – My most cherished memory is when I won the National Talent
Search scholarship in school, the only girl candidate from the zone in the final list after multiple
rounds of exams and interviews. I vividly recollect I was in my hostel room when my Dad called
me up to share the good news and I literally cried when he said having a daughter like me was
his greatest blessing in life. The happiness in his voice still reverberates in my ears. He believed
in me from the moment I was born and that definitely makes an individual confident enough to
take on life and believe in oneself.
Work-life balance - My philosophy in life is simple. Pursue something only as long as you enjoy
doing it. I enjoy my profession and my job responsibilities thoroughly and I believe my work profile
perfectly complements my personality, in the sense that it allows me to be myself. In the process,
in spite of long hours at work, I never feel the stress. In fact, it is humbling to see some colleagues
and associates at work turning to me for tips on how to stay calm even on a bad day. With a family
and household responsibilities to manage in parallel, the balancing act does not come easy.

My passion - I was introduced to music and vocal training at the tender age of three and obtained
my degrees in Hindustani classical and Rabindra Sangeet while still in high school. In the course
of multiple stage performances, at one point I felt the pull to cut my own album and HIYAAR
MAAJHE was born which includes 9 gems from Tagore’s compositions. I experimented with the
music arrangement as per my vision about the songs and I feel blessed the album was well
appreciated. I have always been into writing lyrics and composing my own tunes, so when we
initiated ULFAT in 2016, the creations found a focus and an avenue was in place to execute our
dreams about music. Since then there has been no looking back and today ULFAT Unplugged
Entertainment Pvt. Ltd. is an independent full-fledged production house equipped with latest high-
end equipment. Music is my oxygen and a constant source of joy and inspiration to me. I also
thoroughly enjoy compering shows and hosting events and I have been doing that since my
college days.

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My favourite time pass I am an avid reader since childhood. The passion is still just as strong,
but I need to manage my time well to continue with it. I also am passionate about travelling. Having
visited over 30 countries till date, I am keen to visit many more.
My family - Without a family which understands you well and is supportive, it is not possible for
creative people like us to thrive. Also, since I try to pursue multiple parallel fields of interest, it is
essential to have a solid support system on the home front. I enjoy spending time productively
with my family. We all share a very open and transparent relation and can talk about almost
anything under the sun. My mother has always been my strongest anchor, guide, friend,
philosopher plus critic in life and her feedback always matters a lot to me. In my opinion, guidance
from the older generation is a blessing in itself and always leaves a very positive impact on the
entire family.
My favourite author - I am ardently into books and in complete awe of Ayn Rand’s works even
today. It is a challenge to match up to her intellect, imagination and storyline.
My ideal personality - I respect all achievers who have sincerely strived to reach the pinnacle of
success yet have stayed firmly grounded to their roots and ethics.
My association with EBCI – I have been associated with EBCI since its inception in 2007. In the
formative years, all of us involved have faced multiple hurdles as we experimented and went
through the learning curve till a final pattern or format of the club was established. We are proud
of the fact that we never gave up even in the worst crisis scenarios and nurtured EBCI with utmost
love, care and dedication. Today, it gives us immense happiness to see it blossom into such a
vibrant and leading socio-cultural entity in the UAE. EBCI has also gifted us an extended loving
family outside our homeland and words cannot define the warm sentiments it brings forth.
My preamble of life –Take each day as it comes. Live every moment and give it your best shot
with a bright smile. After all, what is happiness but a state of mind!

Artwork by Mrs. Moumita Basu

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 Green poppy

‘‘Longwood closed’’ – as this flashed on Kevin’s mobile screen, midst many other messages on
the COVID-19 outbreak, he could not resist reading further:
“Out of an abundance of concern for the well-being of our guests and community, and in keeping
with the CDC’s guidance to practice social distancing, all concerts, tours, onsite classes, Member
events, family and student programming, and lectures are canceled…”
Though a regular, Kevin could not immediately recollect when last he drove down to Longwood
Gardens, barely 30 miles south of where he resided in Philadelphia and sighted the first blue
poppy grown outside its native habitat in the higher elevations of Himalayan mountains. The
mesmerizing deep sky-blue colored petals of Blue Poppies have always enchanted him, as if he
had a very special reincarnated affinity to them. He tried to recollect why. A narrow lane flanked
with thousands of brilliant tiny dots against the backdrop of an infinite green spread sheet whirred
past his eyes.
And Natasha looked beautiful standing on a distant plateau. Like years before……
Natasha was then doing her research on the alternative therapy for ‘olfactory hallucination’, also
called as ‘Phantosmia’, or Phantom smell, a condition which makes you smell something which
is actually not present around you, like the odor of cigarette smoke. The main causes of Olfactory
hallucinations are believed to be the like of nasal infections; however, for some, it can be a certain
neurological disorder, such as migraine or Parkinson's disease or an injury to the head.
The aroma of certain wildflowers growing in the higher altitudes of Himalaya exhibited
extraordinary capability in soothing olfactory hallucinations. There is no place like the Valley of
Flowers located in North Chamoli, in the state of Uttarakhand, India, to offer such variety of
endemic alpine flowers. Natasha fell in love with this place at the first sight; and as the first volume
of perfume was delivered to her forebrain, she knew that there was no going back.
The flowers are in full bloom after the first monsoon rain, somewhere in July every year and would
live only for a month or so. Natasha knew the challenges to arrest these odors, though she would
fancy capturing the magnificent colors too, from the blood red to the bright violet, all of them. In
the end, it was magical to discover strains of odors which would caste their touch on the nasal
trails, all the way to the brain, and could heal even the most complex cases of Phantosmia; almost
always.
It was on one of those days, Natasha met Kevin, a pesticides researcher, who came to the valley
in search of certain narcotic constituents found in the local plants like MECONOPSIS ACULEATA,
popularly known as the Blue Poppy, the Queen of Himalayan flowers. The roots of this plant are
believed to be poisonous. The Blue Poppy is found in abundance near Gurudwara Shri Hemkund
Sahib Ji, located at an altitude of more than 15,000 feet, a pilgrimage site for Sikhs, but equally
popular with the trek enthusiasts.
Natasha and Kevin liked each other; the Blue poppy was their common love. It is a delight to
watch this tiny flower, especially on a clear bright sunny day. It rather seemed to be very delicate,
sometimes brittle. Natasha would never touch this fragile flower, afraid of losing it too soon. The

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Blue Poppies bloomed with exuberance, and so did their love for each other, as the rains poured
heavily from the sky and the valley was filled with a blend of aromas you would find nowhere else
in the world. The valley was painted with brilliant colors, the formats quickly shifting from one
shade to the other, as the yellows died, and the pinks were born. Everything was so beautiful.
Then, the rain was gone; and so was Kevin. Natasha wanted to start a life with Kevin, but he
could not convince himself to bottle his life in commitments. In the coming months, Kevin would
not share the pain of Natasha, for it was only hers. One more season was gone, and the aroma
flew away. For the second year in a row, Natasha could not hold the aromas, it just melted into
the air and was consumed by the heavy, dense, and black atmosphere.
Natasha and Cecilia had mastered the techniques of arresting the more complex aromas during
their perfumery years in Grasse, France. But she found it different with the tiny wildflowers. Cecilia
too was not by her side anymore, as Natasha chose to apply her learnings in the medical domain,
while Cecilia did not. With the years passing by, Natasha would nurture these flowers with more
love, though at times she struggled to contain her pain. She learnt that the Blue Poppies could
feel pain too, and when under stress they would reveal a mauve tint.
She eventually learnt to keep a Blue Poppy, even many months after it had gone.
“Blue-poppies are infrequently cultivated outside their native habitat. Given the right conditions,
however, they can thrive in gardens located in the northern regions of the U.S. and Europe. They
reside in our Conservatory where temperatures are kept cool to make the plants comfortable
during their flowering season”, Cathy explained to the first batch of the summer tours. She had
enrolled for the two-year Professional Horticulture program at the Longwood last year and was
volunteering for some of the tours.
One day, while returning to her accommodation, Cathy noticed a middle-aged man curiously
examining a set of Blue Poppies planted in the Student garden area. Cathy walked up to him and
realized that the gentleman looked very familiar.
“You see those bunch of Blue Poppies in the corner? Inside the fence? Those are extraordinary.
I have never seen such brilliant bluish white hue emitted by these poppies. Do you see?” the man
said. Cathy could not see how they were different from the others though.
“No”, she shrugged.
“Do you have any idea who grows them?” the man asked.
Well, those were Matt’s. Cathy nodded and called for Matt.
Matt wore a weird looking set of eyeglasses. “Hi, I am Matt”, said Matt as he closed in and shook
hands with the stranger.
“Blue Poppies are extraordinary living beings. Look at the petals closely against the sunlight, you
can see their blood lines; they are like tiny arteries carrying life to the edges. I am so afraid to
touch them sometimes; they look so fragile”. The man turned slowly towards Matt as he completed
the sentence. “Yes, I see. But these bunch of poppies are strangely different. This bright bluish
light is very peculiar. Even the central patterns are not like the classic Blue Poppy design.” Matt
froze in surprise; for he knew that the central patterns the man referred to, could not be seen with
naked human eyes. Besides, very few people in the world had the knowledge of the classic central

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floral patterns, even if they could see them, through very special glasses, like the ones Matt wore
right then.
The petals of large number of flowers reflect light in a wide spectrum, both in visible and invisible
ranges for a human eye. A human eye filters out the light in ultraviolet (UV) spectrum and hence
such light is invisible to human eyes. Whereas, bees and other insects have UV receptors which
enable them to see the splendid colors falling in the UV spectrum, specifically the central parts of
flowers, which quite often have beautiful radial symmetrical patterns. These act as the “landing
strips” for insects and guide them to the nectar they feed on.
Very rarely a human being can see a light in the UV spectrum. There have been cases when due
to rare neurological problems affecting the eye, the UV filtering power of the lens was partly
damaged enabling the person to see UV light.
Matt knew one such man who was once in a bar and noticed that the bar’s device for detecting
counterfeit banknotes was emitting very bright bluish light. The man mentioned this to the barman,
who looked at him with a very quizzical expression, but made no comment. He then realized that
the barman could not see the light, it was visible only to him. He also realized that the strange
bright bluish light was visible through his right eye only. Matt’s eyes widened as he read the name
on the badge the visitor was wearing, the visitor who wandered to his gardens. Only that this was
not a coincidence.
“Would you like to buy some of those? We help set up the greenhouse and head house to maintain
the perfect ambience for the Blue Poppies. We also provide the required communal tools, mulch,
compost etc.” Matt said.
Matt had learnt from his mentor the art of arresting aromas of various complexities. He further
specialized in coding the genes of flowers, especially the Blue Poppy, to control the UV spectrum
band in which the Blue Poppy would reflect the light. Some of this light will fall in a band which
could severely damage the optic nerve at the back of the lens. Any human eye seeing light in this
band will never be able carry the message to the brain.
Matt also extended his work on genetic coding to areas where the flowers could be manipulated
to release an enhanced or altered aroma, with triggers like a catalyst injected up their bloodline
or a specific angle of sunlight falling on the petals. He was able to isolate a few aromas, which if
exceeded a given concentration, could enter the never travelled before nasal tracts and make the
ear drum heavier. This could lead to Phantosmia or loss of hearing or both.
After wrapping up the invoicing formalities, Matt grabbed his phone and dialed a number, “Mom,
Dad has seen the landing strips”. Natasha smiled.
A few years later, Kevin would be denied entry to the Longwood, due to the deadly Corona virus
pandemic in the United States of America. He would still look through the iron gates in search of
a face, of a young horticulturist, who once sold him a bright Blue Poppy, with a central pattern he
had never seen before.
With an aroma so unforgettable, the smell of Natasha……

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Photography by author – Mr. Sanjeev Das

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 Middle Ground
When the skies
Seem to be falling down,
And your shoulders
Start to tire
From the weight -
Hold on to the ground,
And your kindness.
When the rivers of chaos
Threaten to overflow,
This is what will keep you
Afloat -
Saving yourself,
And perhaps
Some others.
They say mankind
Is between
The Gods and,
The Demons
With the option
Of choosing sides.
When home
Is threatened,
Hold on to the
Humane in you
That the choice
Bestowed on
The middle ground.

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 DETOX
After years of habituated
Feelings, lifestyle and existence,
We were in a teething phase
With us.
As the world slowed down;
Halting time;
Rearranging our schedules;
Revaluating our practices,
As though stopping us
To take a breath;
As though on a detox
From us.
By Anouska SahaRoy

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এক অভাবনীয় পিরি�িতর মধ� িদেয় আমরা সবাই চেলিছ। মন ভােলা েনই কােরা। সামেন েয
আেরা িক ভয়াবহতা আমেদর জন� অেপ�া কের রেয়েছ তা েকউ জািননা।
িক� েয সত�টা আমােদর সবারই জানা হেয় িগেয়েছ তা এই েয, কােরা মাথার ওপেরই আর
ছাদ�ট েনই। েকািভড্ -১৯ এর ঝড় তােক উিড়েয় িনেয় িগেয়েছ। ধনী-গরীব, উঁচ�-িনচ�, সাদা-
কােলা িনিবেশেষ
� পুেরা মানবকুল আজ িব��ণ � এক �া�ের েখালা আকােশর িনেচ দাঁিড়েয়।
িনরাপদ আ�েয়র ছায়া েনই েকাথাও।

েগাঁদ এর ওপর িবষ েফাঁড়ার মেতা েকািভড্-১৯ এর সে� েযাগ িদেয়েছ আবার দাবদাহ, ভূ িমক�,
বন�া, ঘূিণঝেড়র
� মেতা �াকৃিতক ৈদত� দানেবরা।
“েকন এমনটা হেলা বা হে� “- এই িনেয় চাপানউেতার আেছ, েযমনটা বরাবর থােক।
িক� সাধারণ �� একটাই। েকান সাবধান বাণী িক েকাথাও িকছ� িছলনা? িছলনা েকান আগাম
ইি�ত?

যাঁরা ই�র মােনন- ভাবভ�� আেবগেক একট� ��� িদেয় চেলন, তাঁরা িক� বরাবরই েবাঝােত
েচেয়েছন। জীবেনর সহজ সরল সত��টেক, জগেতর আসল �প�টেক েচােখ আ�ু ল িদেয় েদিখেয়
িদেত েচেয়েছন। অন�িদেক, যু��বাদীরা, িব�ানীরা ভাবীকােলর �ােথ � সাবধান বাণী �িনেয়েছন,
সতক� বাত�া িদেয়েছন �কৃিতেক যেথ� ব�বহােরর িব�ে�।

আমরা কাউেক আমল িদইিন। �থম দলেক ব�� িব�ুপ কেরিছ। ি�তীয় দেলর সতক� বাত�ােক
আিম িনেজ ছাড়া অন� সবাকার অবশ� পালনীয় কত�ব� িহসােব ধের িনেয় দায় এিড়েয় িগেয়িছ।

েভাগাি� িক� আজ সবার জীবেন। এটােক হঠাৎ কের ঘেট যাওয়া িবপযয়� মেন করেল চলেব
েকন? আক��ক ঘটনা বেল জগেত েতা িকছ� েনই। আমােদর ধমশাে� � ‘কমফেলর’
�
�স� রেয়েছ। িব�ােনর পিরভাষায় এেকই বলা হয় ‘কাযকারণ
� ত�’।

�ধম � পালন করা েথেক �িতপেদই েতা আমরা সের এেসিছ। অদমনীয় েলাভ, েভাগাকা�া,
েভাগতৃষা আমােদর েয েকান পিরণিতেত িনেয় যাে� েসটা েভেব েদিখিন। বরং �িত পদে�েপই
েদখােত েচেয়িছ �মতা ও দে�র উদ� �কাশ।
এখন দায় এড়ােবা েকমন কের? আেরা চাওয়া, আেরা পাওয়ার তািগেদ িনেজর ই�ােক েজার
কের চািপেয় েদওয়ার �বণতা েতা আধুিনক জীবেনর েরাগ িবেশষ। সবার মুেখ েতা একটাই
বুিল “জগৎ এিগেয় যাে�, তাল িমিলেয় চলেত না পারেল িপিছেয় পড়েত হেব”।

িকেসর িপিছেয় পড়া? এিগেয় যাওয়ার সং�াটাই েযখােন জানা েনই। েভােগর তািগেদ িবষয়
েথেক িবষয়া�ের ছ�েট চলেত িগেয় অনুভূিতহীন একটা জড় স�ায় �ধু পিরণত হওয়া ছাড়া।
অন� কাল সমুে� আমার অবস্হান েকাথায় এবং কতট�কু েসটা একবারও মেন আিন িক? গড়
আয়ুকাল েতা এক েথেক একেশা বছেরর। দু চার বছেরর েয এিদক ওিদক েদখা যায় েসটা
ব�িত�ম মা�। এই গড়পরতা সমেয়র আেগও অেনেকই এেগােত েচেয়িছেলন, পেরও অেনেক

19 | P a g e
এেগােত চাইেবন। িক� আমার চলাটা থমেক েগেলা েকন? েকন সময়সীমােক অিত�ম করেত
পারিছনা - এটা িক একট�ও ভাবেত েনই?
এখনও হােত েযট�কু সময় আেছ, তােত হ�ঁেস েফরার িকছ�টা েচ�া েতা িনই।অ�ত িব�াস এবং
ভরসা রাখেত িশিখ ত�ণ �জে�র উপর। িনছক ইট্ , কাঠ, পাথর না বািনেয় এেদর “মানুষ “
কের েতালার দায়ট�কু �ীকার কির। এরা েলাভী নয়, �াথপর
� নয়। এেদর আেবগ রেয়েছ, সহমিমতা
�
রেয়েছ, রেয়েছ ঝু ঁ িক িনেয়ও িবপেদর মুেখ এিগেয় যাওয়ার �মতা। িনছক আমার আপনার
“ই�াপুত�ল” হেয় এরা না হয় “বড়” নাই হল। এইট�কু �াধীনতা অ�ত এেদর থাকুক। �ংেসর
েশেষ আশা ও আনে�র নূতন জগৎ গেড় ত� লেত এরাই েহাক আেলােকর দূত।

শাি� আসুক সবার জীবেন॥

েলিখকা - ম�ু রি�ত

Artwork by Anindita Ghosh

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Artwork by Mrs. Sonali Ray

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Artwork by Mrs. Sonali Ray

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Artwork by Mrs. Sonali Ray

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Artwork by Mrs. Sonali Ray

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Artwork by Mrs. Anindita Ghosh

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Artwork by Mrs. Anindita Ghosh

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Artwork by Mrs. Moumita Basu

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Artwork by AnasuyaPaul

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Artwork by AnasuyaPaul

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Title: রঙ েপ��ল এবং ত� িল...... লকডাউেন আনসুয়ার পুরাতন �ৃিত

Artwork by AnasuyaPaul

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 Some dreams are a bit elusive

Every child has a dream about his future. Somebody wants to be an engineer; somebody wants
to be a doctor or may be Cricket player. I also dreamt of a career. Any guesses …….
I want to be an Army man. Right from my childhood I dreamt about a disciplined life, Military
uniform, adventures outings, Guns etc.
Army is the only institute where we can gain vast knowledge and also earn very handsome pay
and perks. It teaches us in every field and make us perfect from top to bottom. Indian army is the
best example of total devotion, sacrifice, honor and prestige.
Wearing a uniform and serving the nation is a pride and honor for any Individuals which is
applicable for me also.
However, as you can see by end of search for a suitable career, I could not join the army.
Today I will take you to the same journey which I have faced in my teenage.
Scene 1 – Intimating my career dream
In the mid-eighties when I was preparing for my 12th Standard, I dream of joining the national
Defense academy – gate way to Indian Military.
Informed my mother & father about my career goal as it is a risky career, so that there should not
be any confusion or controversy.
The day I asked for money to buy the application form, my mother started crying. I started to
consolidate my mother that nothing will happen to me & I know how to manage the show. But I
could not stop her crying.
My father is silent as usual. Any controversial decision, he is always silent. May be all fathers are
like that. And my elder brother always behaves like a salt on the sandwich. He started screaming
right in front of everybody …. No army No army. Join Engineering. He was just jumping like a Fox.
He always does the same whenever something going to be good for me. Disgusting …….
Crying, screaming continued for next few days. All three were trying to convince me that
engineering is the best career and I was adamant to join the army.
Scene 2 – Preparation Time
Somehow, I manage to get the desired permission from my parents & went to Buy the form from
Army headquarters, New Delhi. There I met similar aspiring candidates who has the Zeal to join
the army. After talking to them, my willing ness to join army enhanced.
The form was submitted along with necessary documents within the due date. The examination
was 2 months away from the date of submission of filled in application form.

31 | P a g e
I was very determined to join the army & hence seriously started studying for my examination.
Looking at the efforts & hardship I was putting on, crying rate of my mother was increasing day
by day.
I specially remember an incidence of one day.
It was just 15 days before my final written examination. I have studied quite late last night. Books
were scattered all over my room. However, before I start my studying for the day, thought of
going out for 30 minutes to take some fresh air. But after I came back to start my studying, I could
not find my IMA entrance examination book.
I started searching for this thru out my room but could not find them. I was very much sure that I
have not taken the books outside the room. I was so tensed. Just 15 days left for the exam. It was
a nightmare for me.
Suddenly I saw my mother was smiling. While asking her repeatedly, she confessed that she has
taken the books. My brother always puts oil in the fire warned her not to return back the books.
He was always jumping like a fox. However, after much of request, I finally could manage to get
back the books.
These type incidents happened thru out my study period till the D- day came when I went to give
the entrance exam. It went on smoothly. I was very satisfied with the exam followed by physical
examination. As usual, my mother was never happy of joining the defense forces and I was also
very adamant about my defense career.
Scene -3- Final Countdown
Finally, the day of results have come. I was very much tensed. However, my option of joining the
engineering college was also open due to my 12th grade good marks. My father also has kept that
option open by paying the fees. I was very optimistic about my IMA exam result, hence not
objected for paying fees to the engineering college. Let my parents be satisfied with their
objective.
That morning I went to military headquarters along with my father to check the results. Each &
every aspiring candidate has come to check the results. After some initial pull push, I could reach
the display board to check the results. My heart was beating like a hammer. I checked the paper
from top to bottom but could not find my name. Maybe I missed it, so started checking the name
2nd time. But still could not find my name in the list.
I was so disappointed. Feel like crying. Exam went so well for me, but luck was not with me.
After reaching home and breaking the news to my Mother. She was so happy with my result. My
father was silent till we reached home & after that he also started laughing & enjoying. My brother
as usual was jumping as if he has won the battle.
I believe 1st time in history, Parents were celebrating on failure of their son.
With this my aspiration to join the services came to an end. As my father was in defense Ministry,
I could get the reason of my failure. I passed the written exam with flying colors, but they rejected
me due to my flat foot, which is not acceptable in Army.
Anyway, I always salute the Army life regardless of my failure.

JAI HIND, JAI JAWAN - Prithu Das

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“Captive” by Mr. Mantosh Bhattacharya

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 উে�া রথ

উে�া রথ! কথাটা িক িঠক? রথ আবার উে�া হয় নািক? িঠক এইরকম �� আমােরা িছেলা
েছাটেবলায় l তবুও আিম এই ��টা কিরিন কখেনা।শ‍ধু আন� কেরিছ রথ টানার l এক স�ােহর
মেধয্ই দু-দুবার রথ টানার আন�... রথ যা�ার আন�।

উপিরপর আমেদর বাড়ীেত রথ যা�ার উৎসব হেতা

খুবই ধুম ধাম কের। মােন এক স�াহ বয্াপী পূেজা,
কীতর্ ন, গান বাজনা, পালা গান, বাউল, যা�া পালা,
নাটক। সব েথেক বেড়া কথা, এক স�াহ পড়া
েশানা ব�, শ‍ধু েখলা, আন� আর খাওয়া দাওয়া।
বাড়ী ভের েযেতা আত্মীয় �জেন, আমরা সব ভাইেবান
িমেল এই উৎসব পালন করতাম। এই সময়টা িছেলা
আমােদর সবেচেয় েবশী �ীয়।

আমীরশাহীেত েথেক আমােদর স�ানরা েবাধহয় এই

অনুভূিতটা েসইরকম ভােব বুঝেতই পারেব না। এ
আবার িক আন�... রথ যা�াই বা িক?

সিতয্ই এর জেনয্ হয়েতা আমরাই দায়ী। ওেদর আমরা, েদশ েথেক অেনকদূর িনেয় এেসিছ, েয এই
েছােটা েছােটা অনুভূিত গ‍েলা ওেদর কােছ অজানা রেয়েগেছ। তাই ভাবলাম আজ এই িবষেয় একটু
িকছু েলখাযাক। হয়েতা িকছু তথয্ জানেত পারেল ওরা আেরা ভােলা ভােব বুঝেত পারেব এই রথ
যা�ার কথা, িক তার উৎস, েকনই বা এই �চলন।

আিম এখােন েয রথ যা�ার কথা বলিছ, েসটা হেলা জগ�াথ েদেবর রথ যা�া। েক এই জগ�াথ
েদব? িকভােব এই রথ যা�ার সূচনা? এটা জানার জেনয্ আমােদর একটু �াচীন যুেগ েযেত হেব।

ইিতহাস :

তখন �াপর যুগ। কুর‍ে�� যুে�র পর অেনকিদন েকেট েগেছ। �ারকায় �কৃ � একিদন গােছর নীেচ
বেস থাকাকালীন তাঁর রাঙা চরণেক পািখ েভেব ভু ল কের বাণ মাের জরা নােম এক শবর। �কৃ ে�র
মৃতুয্র খবর েপেয় অজুর্ন ছু েট এেলন �ারকায়। েদহ সৎকােরর সময় অজুর্ন েদখেলন, েগাটা েদহটা
পুড়েলও নািভেদশ পুড়েছ না! তখনই হয় ৈদববাণী, ‘ইিনই েসই পরম��। অজুর্ন, এঁেক সমুে� িনে�প
কেরা। সমুে�ই ওঁর অন�শয়ন।’ অজুর্ন তাই করেলন।

েঢউেয়র মাথায় ভাসেত এিগেয় চলল পরম�� েসই নািভ। আর তাঁেক ল� কের সমুে�র তীর ধের
কাঁদেত কাঁদেত ছু েট চলেলন েসই শবর, যার বােণ মৃতুয্ হেয়িছল �কৃ ে�র। �ারকা েথেক পুরী পযর্�
ছু েট এেস অবেশেষ �কৃ �েক �� েদখেলন িতিন। তাঁর �ে� েদখা িদেয় কৃ � বেলন, ‘কাল েভাের
আমােক তু েল েন। এখন েথেক েতার বংশধর শবরেদর হােতই পুেজা েনব আিম’। েসই েথেক নীলমাধব
র‍েপ িতিন পূিজত হেত থাকেলন শবরেদর কােছ।

34 | P a g e
এরপর অেনকযুগ েকেটেগেছ, এেসেছ কিল যুগ। কিলে�র রাজা তখন ই�দুয্� েদব। িব�ু র ভ�
ই�দুয্� �ে�ে� একিট মি�র গেড় তু লেলন। এখন আমরা তােক িচিন পুরীর জগ�াথধাম র‍েপ। িক�
েসই মি�ের তখনও েকােনা িব�হ েনই! রাজসভায় একিদন কথা �সে� িতিন জানেত পারেলন িব�ু রই
এক র‍প নীলমাধেবর কথা। অমিন চারিদেক েলাক পাঠােলন রাজা। বািকরা খািল হােত িফের এেলও,
িফরেলন না রাজার সবেচেয় �ীয় িবদয্াপিত। িতিন জ�েলর মেধয্ পথ হারােল তাঁেক উ�ার কের
িনেজর বািড় িনেয় এেলন শবর রাজ িব�বসুর কনয্া লিলতা। লিলতার ে�েম পড়েলন িবদয্াপিত।
িবেয় হল দু-জেনর। িবেয়র পর িবদয্াপিত েদখেলন েরাজ সকােলই শবররাজ কেয়ক ঘ�ার জনয্
েকাথাও যান। েরাজ সকােল েকাথায় যান িব�বসু! �ীেক �� কের িবদয্াপিত জানেত পারেলন েয
জ�েলর মেধয্ একিট েগাপন জায়গায় নীলমাধেবর পূেজা করেত যান শবররাজ িব�বসু।

উৎসািহত হেয় উঠেলন িবদয্াপিত। নীলমাধেবর স�ান যখন পাওয়া িগেয়েছ, তখন আর ছাড়া যােব
না বেল িঠক করেলন িতিন। নীলমাধবেক দশর্ন করার বায়না ধরেলন। িব�বসু �থেম রািজ না
হেলও অবেশেষ মত িদেলন। তেব শতর্ হল েয িব�হ পযর্� েচাখ েবঁেধ েযেত হেব িবদয্াপিতেক।
জামাতা হেলও িবদয্াপিতেক েকানও ভােব নীলমাধেবর স�ান িদেত রািজ িছেলন না িতিন। তােতই
রািজ িবদয্াপিত। েচাখ বাঁধা অব�ায় যাওয়ার সময় িতিন েগাটা পেথ সরেষর দানা ছড়ােত েগেলন।

যথা�ােন েপৗঁেছ যখন িতিন দশর্ন েপেলন নীলমাধেবর, তখন তাঁর �াণ আনে� ভের উঠল। বেনর
মেধয্ পূেজার ফু ল কুিড়েয় এেন িব�বসু যখন পূেজায় বসেলন, অমিন ৈদববাণী হল, ‘এতিদন আিম
দীন-দুঃখীর পূেজা িনেয়িছ, এবার আিম মহাউপাচাের রাজা ই�দুয্ে�র পূেজা িনেত চাই।’

ভীষণ েরেগ েগেলন শবররাজ। ই�েদবতােক হারাবার দুঃেখ বি� করেলন িবদয্াপিতেক। িক� কনয্া
লিলতার বারবার কাকুিত িমনিতেত বাধয্ হেলন জামাতােক মু� করেত। িবদয্াপিতও সে� এই খবর
েপৗঁেছ িদেলন রাজার কােছ। ই�দুয্� মহানে� জ�েলর মেধয্ েসই গ‍হায় েপৗঁেছ েগেলন নীলমাধবেক
সাড়�ের রাজ�াসােদ আনেত। িক� এিক, নীলমাধব েকাথায়! আটক হেলন শবররাজ। তখন ৈদববাণী
হল েয সমুে�র জেল েভেস আসেব কাঠ। েসই কাঠ েথেকই বানােত হেব িব�হ। সমুে�র জেল েভেস
এেলা কাঠ। িক� এিক, হাজার হািত, েঘাড়া, েসপাই, েলাক-ল�র িনেয়ও সমু� েথেক েতালা েগল
না েসই কাঠ।

েশেষ কােঠর একিদক ধরেলন শবররাজ আর একিদক �া�ণ পু� িবদয্াপিত। কাঠ অনায়ােস উেঠ
এল, জগ�ােথর কােছ �া�ণ-শবর েকানও েভদােভদ েনই েয! মহারাজ তাঁর কািরগরেদর লাগােলন
মূিতর্ গড়েত। িক� আবার সমসয্া, েসই কাঠ এমনই পাথেরর মত শ� েয েছিন, হাতু িড় সবই েভেঙ
যায়। তা হেল উপায়! মূিতর্ গড়েব েক? মহারােজর আকুলতা েদেখ বৃে�র েবেশ হািজর হেলন �য়ং
িব�কমর্া। িতিনই গড়েবন মূিতর্ । তেব শতর্ একটাই, ২১ িদন চলেব কাজ। আর এই কাজ চলাকালীণ
িতিন িনেজ দরজা না খুলেল েকউ েযন তাঁর ঘের না আেস।

শ‍র‍ হল কাজ। ই�দুয্ে�র রািন গ‍ি�চা েরাজই র‍� দুয়াের কান েপেত েশােনন কাঠ কাটার ঠক্
শ�। ১৪ িদন পর হঠাৎ রািন েদখেলন র‍��ার ক� িন��। কী হল! েকৗতু হল েচেপ রাখেত না
েপের রািণ মহারাজেক জানােতই ই�দুয্� খুেল েফলেলন কে�র দরজা। েভতের েদেখন বৃ� কািরগর
উধাও, পেড় আেছ িতনিট অসমা� মূিতর্ । তােদর হাত, পা িকছু ই গড়া হয় িন। গিহর্ ত অপরাধ কের
েফেলেছন েভেব দুঃেখ েভেঙ পড়েলন রাজা। তখন তাঁেক �� িদেয় জগ�াথ বলেলন েয এরকম আেগ
েথেকই িনধর্ািরত িছল। িতিন এই র‍েপই পূিজত হেত চান।

35 | P a g e
েসই েথেকই � জগ�াথেদেবর মূিতর্ ওভােবই
পূিজত হেয় আসেছ যুগ ধের। জগ�ােথর
�ধান উৎসব হল রথযা�া। আষাঢ় মােসর
শ‍�া ি�তীয়া িতিথেত জগ�াথ েবান সুভ�া
ও দাদা বলরাম বা বলভ�েক িনেয় রেথ
চেড় রাজা ই�দুয্ে�র পত্নী গ‍ি�চারবািড়
যান। েসখান েথেক সাতিদন পের আবার
িনেজর মি�ের িফের আেসন। এই
যাওয়াটােকই জগ�ােথর মািসর বািড় যাওয়া
বেল। রেথর িদন িতনিট রথ পর পর যা�া
কের মািসর বািড়। �থেম যায় বলরােমর
রথ, তারপর সুভ�া এবং সবেশেষ জগ�ােথর
রথ। রেথ চেড় এই গমন ও �তয্াগমনেক
(েসাজা)রথ এবং উে�ারথ বেল। বলরাম, সুভ�া ও জগ�াথেদব

পুরীর রথ উৎসব :

পুরী উিড়ষয্ার রাজধানী ভু বেন�েরর েথেক ৬০ িকেলািমটার (৩৭ মাইল) দি�েণ, বে�াপসাগর
উপকূেল অবি�ত। এিটই জগ�াথ েদেবর মহাধাম ও �ধান পীঠ�ান। রেথর সময় �ায় পেনেরা-িবশ
ল� িহ�ু ধমর্াবল�ী রথযা�ায় অংশ িনেত েদশ-িবেদশ েথেক ছু েট আেসন পুরীেত। শাে� রেয়েছ,
"রথ� বাম নং দৃ�াপুনজর্� ন িবদয্েত"৷ অথর্াৎ রেথর উপর অিধি�ত বামন জগ�াথেক দশর্ন করেল
তাঁর পুনজর্� হয় না৷ তাই রেথর দিড় টানােকও পুেণয্র কাজ িহসােব গণয্ কেরন ধমর্�াণ িহ�ুরা।
�িত বছর রথযা�ার উে�াধন কেরন েসখানকার রাজা। রাজ� না থাকেলও বংশপর�রা �েম পুরীর
রাজপিরবার আজও আেছ। েসই রাজপিরবােরর িনয়ম অনুসাের, িযিন রাজা উপািধ �া� হন, িতিনই
পুরীর রাজা জগ�াথ, বলরাম ও সুভ�ােদবীর পর িতনিট রেথর সামেন পু�া�িল �দান কেরন এবং
েসানার ঝাড়ু ও সুগ�ী জল িদেয় রেথর স�ুখভাগ ঝাঁট েদন। তারপরই পুরীর রেথর রিশেত টান
পেড়। শ‍র‍ হয় জগ�াথেদেবর রথযা�া। িতনজেনর জনয্ আলাদা িতনিট রথ। রথযা�া উৎসেবর মূল
দশর্নীয় িদকিট হল এই রথ িতনিট। িতনিট রথ যা�ার িকছু িনয়ম রেয়েছ।
• �থেম যা�া শ‍র‍ কের বড় ভাই বলরাম বা বলভে�র রথ। এই রেথর নাম তাল�জ। রথিটর
েচৗ�িট চাকা। উ�তা চু য়াি�শ ফু ট। রেথর আবরেণর রঙ নীল অথবা সবুজ হয়।

• তারপর যা�া কের েবান সুভ�ার রথ। রেথর নাম দপর্দলন। রথিটর �জা বা পতাকায় প�িচ�
আঁকা রেয়েছ, তাই রথিটেক প��জও বলা হেয় থােক। উ�তা �ায় েততাি�শ ফু ট। এই রেথর
েমাট বােরািট চাকা। রেথর আবরেণর রঙ লাল।

• সবর্েশেষ থােক � কৃ � বা জগ�াথেদেবর রথ। রথিটর নাম ন�ীেঘাষ। পতাকায় কিপরাজ

হনুমােনর মূিতর্ আঁকা রেয়েছ তাই এই রেথর আর একিট নাম কিপ�জ। রথিটর উ�তা পঁয়তাি�শ
ফু ট। এেত েষােলািট চাকা আেছ। রথিটর আবরেণর রঙ হলুদ।

36 | P a g e
িতনিট রেথর আবরণীর রঙ আলাদা হেলও �িতিট রেথর উপিরভাগিট লাল রেঙরই হেয় থােক। রথ
িতনিট সমুে�াপকূলবত� জগ�াথ মি�র েথেক �ায় িতন মাইল দূের গ‍ি�চা মি�েরর উে�েশ যা�া
শ‍র‍ কের। েসখােন সাতিদন থাকার পর আবার উে�া রেথ জগ�াথ মি�ের িফের আেস।

লাল আবরেণ িতনিট রথ চলেছ পুরীর রথ উৎসেব

বতর্ মােন িতনিট রথ বয্বহৃত হয়। তেব আজ েথেক আনুমািনক সাতেশা বছর পূেবর্ রথযা�ার যা�াপথ
দুিট ভােগ িবভ� িছল। আর েসই দুিট ভােগ িতনিট-িতনিট কের েমাট ছ'িট রথ বয্বহৃত হেতা।
েকননা, েসসময় জগ�াথ মি�র েথেক গ‍ি�চা আসার পথিটর মাঝখান িদেয় বেয় েযেতা এক �শ�
বলাগ‍ি� নালা। তাই জগ�াথ মি�র েথেক িতনিট রথ বলাগ‍ি� নালার পার পযর্� এেল পের জগ�াথ,
বলভ� ও সুভ�ার মূিতর্ রথ েথেক নািমেয় নালা পার কের অপর পােড় অেপ�মাণ অনয্ িতনিট রেথ
বিসেয় েফর যা�া শ‍র‍ হেতা। ১২৮২ ি��াে�, রাজা েকশরী নরিসংহ পুরীর রাজয্ভার �হেণর পর
তাঁর রাজ�কােলর েকােনা এক সমেয় এই বলাগ‍ি� নালা বুিজেয় েদন। েসই েথেক পুরীর রথযা�ায়
িতনিট রথ।

মজাকর িকছু তথয্ :

ভ�েদর িববৃিত অনুযায়ী রেথর িকছু মজার এবং আ�যর্ করা তথয্ রেয়েছ। েযমন,
• েকােনা রকম আধুিনক সর�াম ছাড়াই রথ িনমর্াণ করা হয়। বতর্ মান সমেয়র এত উ�ত �যুি�র
িব�ুমা� সহায়তা েনওয়া হয় না রথ িনমর্ােণ
• রথ িনমর্ােণর িনিদর্ � ৈদঘর্য্ মাপগ‍েলা হােত েনওয়া হয়, েকােনা গজ িফেতর সাহােযয্ নয়। েকােনা
�কার েপেরক, নাট ব�ু , ধাতু - িকছু র বয্বহার েনই এখােন
• �ায় েচৗ�শ' কম� রথ িনমর্াণ কেরন। এখােন কাউেক আলাদা কের িনেয়াগ করেত হয় না,
েকননা েসই আিদকাল েথেক বংশপর�রায় যারা রথ ৈতির কের আসিছেলা, তারা আজও রথ
ৈতির কের যাে�

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• পুরীেত, রেথর সময় এমন েকােনা বছর েনই েয সময় রেথর িদন বৃি� হয়িন
• রথ িতনিটেত বলরাম, সুভ�া এবং জগ�ােথর মূিতর্ থােক েভতের, যা িনমকাঠ িদেয় ৈতির এবং
�ায় ২০৮ েকিজ েসানা িদেয় সি�ত
• রথ িনমর্ােণ েয সম� কাঠ বয্বহার করা হয়, তার উৎস হেলা পুরীর কােছই দাশপা�া ও রানাপুর
নােমর দুিট জ�ল। েয পিরমাণ গাছ কাটা হয়, তার ি�গ‍ণ পিরমাণ গাছ �িত বছর েরাপণও
করা হয় জ�েল
• এখেনা সকল কাঠ জেল ভািসেয়ই িনেয় আসা হয়
সিতয্ কী অবাক করা কা�, না? এই িছল রথযা�ােক িঘের সকল েলাকিব�াস বা পুরােণ বিণর্ত
পিব� কাহীিন। পুরী ছাড়াও িবে�র অেনক িহ�ু এলাকােতই রথ উৎসব পালন করা হয়। িনউ ইয়কর্ ,
টেরে�া, ইংলয্া�, ইউেরােপও সমান ঘটাকের রথ উদযাপন হেত েদখা যায়।

বাংলায় রথযা�া

বাংলায় রথযা�া সং�ৃ িতর স�বত সূচনা হেয়িছল �ৈচতনয্েদেবর নীলাচল অথর্াৎ পুরী যাওয়ার পর।
ৈচতনয্ভ� ৈব�বরা বাংলায় পুরীর অনুকরেণ রথযা�ার �চলন কেরন। িক� এখন বাঙািলর মেন
রথযা�ার কথা বলেত �থেমই চেল আেস আেস হ‍গিলর মােহেশর নাম। ধাের ভাের যা পুরীর �ায়
কােছই রেয়েছ। এবছর ৬২৪ বছের পা িদল এই রথযা�া। েস আরএক ইিতহাস, আবার কখেনা সময়
কের বলা যােব।

জগ�ােথর এই রথযা�া এবং উে�ারথ িহ�ু-বাঙািলেদর েকানও কাজ বা ধম�য় অনু�ােনর সূচনার
পিব� িদন িহেসেব গণয্ করা হয়। �িতবছর বাঙািলর অনয্তম ে�� উৎসব দূগর্াপূেজার সূচনাও হয়
এই রথ িকংবা উে�ারেথর িদন।

- �েসনিজৎ রায়

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A DREAM
My name on your lips
Sounds like I'm there,
I'm home where I belong
A beautiful prayer like a gurgling spring,
Passion overflowing, yet onward, growing…

I hear your voice, like an angel's harp,

A little prayer, which sets me flying-
Like a dream, sweet, never ending,
Let nature sing and take me in…

Your voice is whisper in my ears

Creating symphony, weaving magic,
Takes me far, it takes me there
To a sea of bliss, to the land of dreams...

I dance to abandon, I'm not in control

You take my hand and call my name
Is that you? Are you there?
It's still like a dream...

You kiss my eyes and I realize

You've been with me now and ever
My name on your lips makes me smile,
I swirl around in the land of dreams,
While you make music and call my name
Is this for real? Is it still a dream?

- Rupali Rakshit

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TWO WORLDS

I’ve reached the door

Reached it after years of toil, decades of search,
The door to everlasting bliss-
I’ve deserted the world behind,
And now there is no turning back.

There’s unrestrained joy beyond that door

No more pain, no trauma, no anguish
Of unrealized dreams and aspirations,
Unfulfilled targets, unsolved puzzles-
It’s the ultimate, the terminus,
The door to TRANSMUTATION.

I should feel ecstatic,

I have reached the journey’s end
But why do I not see light?
In a split second I know,
As the new unseen world crumbles around me
I helplessly watch my crystal ball
Now ruthlessly shattered into tiny pieces!

All I can do is stand and stare

At the door of my dreams,
I’ve left behind the key to it
All the way behind in the world I’ve abandoned
Where I can never go back.
Will I be grounded forever at this point of no return?

- Rupali Rakshit

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 The proud parents of a C grader

15th January
6:30 AM cold morning in Delhi. Sun is yet to rise fuzz paint the gloomy horizon; the first rays are
tip towing like a frightened cat. Parsuram Singh and Savitri Devi are finding their way to a
ceremonial ground. Savita Devi is not able to handle the thick shawl while walking and cursing
Baaua. (……Due to his deeds and nuances we are facing this shivering cold in unknown
place……... no chaiwallah here till now ……...) Parsuram Singh too is in undefined and strange
state of mind. Anger, grim is gripping him time and again ……. he starts murmuring (I told you
stay closer to this place, did ever listen me ???? ……. This chap never spared us to live in peace
……. he never wrote his BA exam even , nor even tried in ITI ……..left home ….. ……and brought
perils to us)
7:15 AM – The couple have passed through security check and being assisted to take their seats.
7:20 AM – Parsuram Singh (SBI senior clerk from Brhampura branch , Muzaffarpur), now tightly
knotting his 2nd woolen muffler which he had purchased from Delhi Haat yesterday, started
grumbling with muffled anguish (……..Mishrajee’s son is passing out from Roorkee this year to
be an engineer ……Bablu started preparation for UPSC Mains …..last Holi, when Baaua came
home he was bolstering to buy an Alto for us ……” Babujee, I am getting extra allowance …..
learn and take license of a four-wheeler …. auto-drivers are getting rowdier …. however, I can
set them within 2 minutes” …… huh !!!) …
Savitri Devi is busy watching gorgeous looking ladies and their dresses with awe …(She touches
her ear rings which Bauaa had purchased last Dhanteras ……” next time I shall buy you a gold
chain of 10 grams mummyjee ……….)…..(don’t you worry …… I shall be back and very near to
you all after just two more years with a promotion!!! ……..)
8:15 AM – Sitting in a corner seat near an ornately decorated platform in Cariappa parade ground,
Parsuram Singh whispers to Savitri Devi ….“Be calm and do not listen what the lady says when
they call us …...just keep on chanting Hanuman Chalisa ……ok?” Savitri Devi does not respond
as she seems oblivious to the booming ambience …. Parsuram Singh is now wearing a sunglass
on pretext of having a recent Lasik surgery ……sunshine now has drenched the green lawn and
floral decoration near platform.
8:45 AM – Announcement is being made, one tall person in olive green comes to fetch them in
front of that platform ….
Sepoy Balram Singh of 63 Rashtriya rifles Bihar Regiment, Shaurya Chakra (Posthumous) …
A vigorous but trembling voice of a lady is narrating “ …... during search operation in 20th
November last year, near Sunjuwan area in Jammu & Kashmir , based on onerous information,
the team of 6 persons of 63 Rashtriya rifles including Balram Singh had to face multi directional
heavy burst of automatic weapon fire ………
[Savitri Devi is standing but petrified …….rather time travelling back to unfaced memories
…..when Baaua caught smoking and playing cards and thrashed by his Babujee so many times
in class 10 ……..when Baaua failed in class 12 in first attempt and hidden himself in dingy store
room …….]

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[Parsuram Singh too is in his down memory lane …….How he made a flat smash in that volleyball
match against Laxmi chowk ……..how I had to stand in front of school principal to avoid his
incipient suspension from school ……..how Mr. Yadav was threatening me when Baaua broke
the nose his son during a school quarrel …..sirf mara mari , lottery aur volleyball …!!!….]
Narrative is going on ……...seems unending for Mr. and Mrs. Singh …….” Unabated, the team
moved forward and during this action, Lance Naik Bhagat was hit by bullet in right thigh. After
seeing Lance Naik hit, Sepoy Balram Singh crawled and closed into the hideout, undeterred by
volley of fire and neutralized 2 militants. A huge cache of deadly weapons was recovered from
hide out. During this action he got hit by a burst of bullets and badly wounded …..later he
succumbed his injuries …… Sepoy Balram Singh demonstrated highest level of valor, courageous
action and ultimate self-sacrifice while engaged in direct action with enemy ……..
The award is being received by late Balram Singh’s father Shri Parsuram Singh and Mother Savitri
Devi “
Couples are already standing with folded hands and receive the framed medal ……...the Shaurya
Chakra …... Pride and Pain both in one Frame……
In midst of thunderous applause ………. Savitri Devi is thinking about “Jai” of Sholay …...single
handedly taking and returning fire for his friend ……… Parsuram Singh can still feel the rattle of
gunfire ……….
Savitri Devi hides the medal in palm and touches it on her forehead ……. No tears rolled ……
Parsuram Singh keeps his hands on the shoulder of Savita Devi to console and thanks her for
holding herself like a big boulder ……says – “At last…... a big shot too had to stand in front of us
……...every time we used to stand in front of angry parents and class teachers ….”. You know
that big shot was Army Chief ……. biggest boss of Army!!” Savita Devi too cannot hold it anymore
and murmurs ….” Exactly five years ago Baaua had pestered you so much to come and watch
his volleyball district level final match ……. aap to gaye hi nahi …….”
9:30 AM till the end of time - The heads are held high and shall remain high for the proud parents
of a C grader.
PS - [This story is a thought experiment (what if) based on my teenage days when I was not doing
well in class XI and mingling with bad elements in streets of Patna. My dad was in Eastern
command, BRC and he used to warn me that if I did not study well, you would end up as Sepoy
in BR.
In Bihar – Baaua is a sort of synonym of “Khoka” nicked by Bengali parents. The story is dedicated
to those mothers and war widows who demonstrate extreme fortitude to hold their tears during
award ceremonies]
- Mantosh Bhattacharya

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 Bengali Food Safari

When I was young, I had always seen my dad is very fond of food, mostly Bengali food.
He always used to feed me with different kinds of Bengali food. That’s how I developed
the ability to have spicy food because of all the spices added in Bengali food. I discovered
that there were weird names given to the dishes. So, I wanted to share a few of the dishes
that taste great but have weird names.

Aloo Potol Posto Ilish Macher Jhol

I had always felt Posto be a weird name for a dish, but I never knew the alternative name
in Bengali. Then I realized what it was called now!
Aloo Potol Posto - This preparation is called Aloo Potol Posto because of the poppy
seed added in it. The poppy seeds are also known as Posto Bengali. This preparation is
made of Posto as the Bengalis like to call it. It is a preparation of Posto with potatoes and
pointed gourd, complete with red and green chilies and sometimes coconut puree to add
some much-needed spice to it. It truly is one of the classic Bengali dishes and the famous
food of West Bengal!
Ilish Macher Jhol -This was when I discovered the name of fishes in Bengali. I was
amazed by the preparation of this fish and thought that this was the best fish I ever tasted!
One of the much-favored fishes in the region, Hilsa or ilish fish curry is something that
you have got to try your hands on. The pungent smelling curry prepared with Nigella
seeds and chili to give it the required balance that makes it so perfect. You have got to
try this one as it one of the staple foods of West Bengal.

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 Shukto Tangra Macher Jhol

After having a lot of fishes, I finally tried a Bengali platter and tried this starter and
understood that Bengali food is not all about fishes and meat.
Well, Bengalis do know how to do their vegetables too. And Shukto is just an example.
Usually served as the first course of a diet, Shukto is a combination of different vegetables
like Brinjals, Bitter Gourd, Crunchy Drumsticks and Bori (a Bengali specialty again). Mixed
with grounded spices and milk to make a thick curry, this is a perfect way to start a meal.
Tangra Macher Jhol This is the second type of fish I love. Even though I found the name
weird, I really loved the dish.
As you are familiar with the fact that Bengal has a rich source of freshwater as well as
saltwater fishes, you might also know the fact that Bengal tries a lot of different varieties
of fishes. The Tangra fish is basically the catfish that is found in the freshwater bodies
abound in the region. The fish is prepared with freshly ground spices, and the thin curry
is light on the stomach and also supremely tasty too. It is a big hit among the Bengalis in
the region. I didn’t enjoy this dish that much, but I loved the aroma of this dish. It is the
best combination with rice.

Lau Ghonto Mochar Ghonto

Lau Ghonto Lau is bottle gourd, which is cooked with Udad Dal Boris and some light
spices. Although the dish is not so spicy, it is good for the stomach and delicious too, so

44 | P a g e
that is a bonus. Try this recipe if you want to rest your stomach after a hard day at work.
Enjoy this Bengali food with rice.
I was fascinated by how Mochar Ghonto was prepared first. Mocha was a very fascinating
vegetable to me, and the dish looked immensely fascinating to me before tasting it.
Mochar Ghonto is a delicious preparation of banana flower, crushed coconut and potato,
cooked with some cumin and bay leaves. This mouth-watering dish is filled with the
sweetness and spice that makes it an amazing try. An authentic Vegetarian west Bengal
dish, this is proof that there is more to Bengalis than fish and meat.

Aam Pora Shorbot Sandesh

I have honestly never tried this. But I have heard a lot about it. The name gave me lots of
ideas about the preparation of the drink.
Aam Pora Shorbot A drink made of chilled water, burnt raw mangoes and sugar, it is an
instant relief that you will get on a sweltering summer afternoon (and with the Kolkata
heat you might as well require it). The raw mangoes are burnt, but only partially, with the
skin a bit charred which lends a smoky taste to the drink. Best served chilled; this drink is
surely the one which is more relaxing and refreshing than the colas with artificial
sweetness.
I had liked this sweet when I had tasted it for the first time. I don’t like a lot of sweet
things, but this was good because it is made out of milk that is not that sweet.
Sandesh the most popular sweet from the Bengali state, this dish is made of khoya, a
version of condensed milk and is heavenly in taste. This sweet is neither overly sweet
thus allowing people with a non-sweet tooth to enjoy too. One should definitely try this
delectable West Bengal food item.

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 Mishti Doi Patishapta
When I had tried this sweet dish, I immensely fell in love with it. This is the only sweet
dish I always loved.
Mishti Doi is a sweetened yogurt dish that is served at the end of supper and serves as
a sweet dish. Though served all around the country now, it was initially made famous by
Bengal. Try it if you have a sweet tooth.
Patishapta I loved this dish but the presentation of it looked very weird. It looked like
something wrapped in Dosa(South Indian dish). But, when I tasted it, it felt like heaven.
Another unique Bengali sweet, this is usually homemade with a batter of powdered rice
and rolled with the preparation of coconut bits with sugar and khoya. One of the most
amazing Bengali dishes, one has got to try this one, sweet tooth or not. I am sure you are
going to love it.

- Praapti Mazumdar

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In the eyes of beholder

Photograph by Gourav Das

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Photograph by Gourav Das

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Photograph by Sanjeev Das

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Photograph by Sanjeev Das

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Photograph by Sanjeev Das

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Photograph by Sanjeev Das

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“gen- zed”

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Freida - Portrait of an Artist by an Artist - Digital art by Anoushka Sengupta

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Colours of a Woman - Crayon by Anoushka Sengupta

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Roses for L Digital art by Anoushka Sengupta

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 The portal to Zion

The house started to shake, at first, I thought it was an earthquake. We’d trained for those
at school. I ran to the nearest door frame and pushed my hands and feet into it as hard
as I could. But this wasn’t a normal earthquake. None of the other cabins outside were
shaking. And the tremor went on much too long. As the shaking got more and more
intense, a hole opened up in the ground, and from it emerged a hand-- a pale, scaly,
sickening hand. The creature seemed to be trying to pull itself up, as me and my two best
friends trembled with terror......

Now, you must be wondering how I got myself into this mess. Let me introduce myself, I
am Alexander Bane. Though my friends call me “Alex”. I am Sixteen years old. I had
decided to go on a camping trip with a close group of friends to Utah, Peru; the closest of
my friends being my distant cousin, Rihanna Lewis and my schoolmate, Jonah McCain.
We assembled with the rest of our tour group near a bus stand from where we would be
travelling from Machupicchu to Utah. There we met our tour guide, a tall and quite
beautiful young woman who introduced herself as Isabella Lightwood. She wore a white
shirt with a pair of black track-pants, her curly hair let loose over her shoulder. But what
caught my attention was the big, Z-shaped black tattoo drawn across her neck. The tattoo
struck me as very Rune-like. As I’d been raised a Cherokee, as in Native American, I
knew my fair share about ancient runes and symbols. But THAT particular Rune seemed
extremely familiar. Something my uncle Tom had said popped into my mind. Something
about demonic runes? Dark magic? Though it all seemed blurry, I remembered that a
particular Z-shaped Rune, like the one on Isabella’s neck, had to do with dark magic. I
wasn’t superstitious, and I forced myself to believe that the Rune was just a cool tattoo
and nothing more.

Isabella led us to our cabin by the woods. It was small, yet surprisingly clean. The three
of us could live comfortably. Jonah and I insisted that Rihanna should sleep on the bed,
while the two of us slept on the hammocks provided next to the porch. She argued but
eventually agreed. This was going to be perfect.

As we set up the bed for Rihanna, she insisted that she’d help clean our hammocks. We
thanked her, and after we were done preparing her mattress and pillows, she walked in
with blankets and comforters for a good night's rest. We talked and cracked jokes till it
was late in the night and Jonah let out a huge yawn. Rihanna and I snickered and decided
that we deserved some good sleep after a long day of travel. Rihanna got up, wished us
good night and went to bed. Me and Jonah headed for our hammocks by the porch and
lay down. As soon as Jonah's head found the pillows, he started to snore. I chuckled and
looked up at the night sky, studded with stars. It all seemed perfect. But when the clouds
parted to reveal the full moon, I thought I saw a flicker of movement on the wall of our
cabin. This caught my attention. I looked again and indeed there was something—no...
some things shining in the moonlight. They shone bright but were fixated to that position.

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Showing no movement, yet definitely there. As I crept closer, I got the eerie feeling that I
was being watched. I slowed down. An owl hooted in the distance. My heart was racing.
I reached the spot from where the faint glow was coming and extended my hand to see if
I could touch it, whatever it was. It was a carving, a symbol. It was an L-shape with two
strokes criss-crossing from the centre “Fire”, something seemed to whisper that word in
the back of my head and I knew what this symbol meant—it was the Rune of Flame and
Destruction. I quickly removed my hand and went on to observe the other carvings on the
wooden logs of the cabin. There were so many of them! At least seven, all glowing with
an eerie, bluish tinge. I recognized some symbols, like the Rune of Agony, the Rune of
Terror, and in the very centre was the Z-shaped rune—Dark magic—just like the one on
Isabella's Neck. When my fingers softly brushed the tip of the Z, I heard a loud screech,
a wail more spine-chilling than anything I'd ever heard before. Just as I turned around, I
saw something that looked straight out of a nightmare. A flying eyeball! I jumped to the
side as the thing pummeled straight into the wall and then collapsed. I rushed over to
check what the thing had actually been and whether I was hallucinating. I knelt down and
touched its wing, a scaly, slippery, brick-coloured growth. It was disgusting, yet oddly
fascinating. But what exactly was that thing? A new, undiscovered species of bird? I
turned it around and had to stifle my urge to scream. It was an eyeball! Its veins were
bloodshot and popping, and its iris was a menacing shade of red. I was just about to try
and get a closer look at the thing when it started flapping its wings and scratched my
cheek. I screamed and put a hand to my bleeding wound. All the commotion had woken
up Jonah, who ran to my side, a look of pure terror on his face, “what is that thing?!” He
said. “You think I know?!” I yelled. Just when we thought things couldn’t get any worse, a
streak of light swooped past us and hit the creature square in the iris. We looked around
to see the source of the light and saw Isabella standing there, her right arm raised and
held stiff, aimed at the creature on the ground. She finally averted her gaze from the thing
and looked at us, her face unreadable. “Guys?” A voice came from inside. Rihanna
stepped out and looked around, utterly bewildered, “What’s going on?” She asked. “That
was an eye-sprite,” Isabella said, her voice cold and deadly, “You are being watched”.
What did she mean by ‘watched’? “You are sixteen years old aren’t you?” Isabella
continued, “and I’m sure your families have very well given you the information about
demonic runes.” She looked inquisitively at us. I stammered before speaking, “y-yes...why
though?” Isabella looked at us and rolled her eyes, “You haven’t been told about it?”
“No,” The three of us said in unison.
Isabella just looked annoyed but replied, “You kids are descended from—ok I know this
sounds weird, but—you are the descendants of the Azurals, patrons of Zion. You have
Divine blood running through your veins,” She paused and looked at Jonah, “Well, except
you. You’re a Norm. Just a mere human.”
We all stood confused and were taking time to process what she’d said, when the ground
started to shake. “IT’S AN EARTHQUAKE!” Jonah yelled. “No...” Isabella half-whispered,
“Get inside the cabin. Now!”

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We didn’t need to be told twice. The three of us quickly filed in and slammed the door
shut.

Well folks, that’s how it started! Now back to our present situation with the ground shaking
(particularly below our cabin), the floor opening up, the hand, all that. Well, now it’s time
to tell you what sort of creatures of pure terror and madness came after us from that point
on...

As the creature pulled itself up, I managed to get a good look at its features—It’s face
was a misshapen, deformed, bulging mess. Its limbs pale and slimy, but also well-
muscled. It had jagged spikes on it’s back with a small crest jutting out from its forehead.
It seemed to take in its surroundings, before focusing on us with its beady black-green
eyes. It bared its teeth and charged at us. We shut our eyes as if thinking that would make
it go away. Then, the snarling stopped. I opened my eyes, as did Jonah and Rihanna.
The creature just stood there, back arched and hands spread wide and collapsed on the
ground. Behind the carcass stood Isabella, her hands again outstretched, this time with
a blue-gold flame flickering on her fingertips.
“What the- w-what just happened?” Jonah mumbled as I helped him get up. His face was
blanched with fright.
“A Ravener Beast,” Isabella said, a stern look on her face, “sent to capture you I believe.”
“What?!” Rihanna yelled, “Listen, lady, this is all really weird. So why don’t you tell us
what’s going on?!”
“I thought I already told you,” Isabella said crossing her arms, “that you—Alexander and
Rihanna—are descendants of the Azurals. The new generation of the Patrons of Zion.”
Jonah furrowed his eyebrows and said, “Ok so Ri and Alex are like some superhuman
dweebs and I’m what? A ‘Norm’? A mere human? Sure that makes total sense.”
Isabella looked indifferent and said, “No need for the sarcasm, it doesn’t have to make
sense to you anyway, ” She looked at me and continued, “looks like the Eye-sprite got
you before I got it.”
Before I could protest, she stepped towards me and clicked her fingers, staring at the
wound across my cheek. A soft purple, glowing orb floated from her fingertips to my
cheek. As it brushed my cheek, I felt a surge of bliss, and before I knew it the feeling
stopped. I ran my fingers across the place where my cut had once been and felt nothing
but the soft flesh of my cheek. Isabella had somehow healed it.
Jonah stood bewildered, his jaw almost as if about to drop to the floor as he mumbled,
“It’s just a dream, oh God this can’t be real.” repeatedly.
Isabella looked at Jonah and said, “Guess what Norm? It is real. And that was all the
proof you needed. And if you want more, you’re in luck”.

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She joined her hands and closed her eyes, as if praying, then opened them and spread
her arms wide. She then pointed and twirled her index finger in a wide arch and I suddenly
felt some sort of indescribable energy around her, getting stronger by the second, and
from the look on their faces, I knew the others felt it too. Isabella then stopped, her palm
pointed at something in front of her and just when Rihanna was about to open her mouth
to speak, the air around us seemed to become still, forming ripples and wrinkling in front
of Isabella. She looked at us and extended her other hand and said, “I can show you Zion.
You and Rihanna Lewis are of age and need to start training with our High Azurals of Zion
Citadel. You need to come with me.”
I looked at Rihanna. She kept shaking her head and said no. I looked towards Jonah who
was doing the same, with a dazed and confused look on his face. But curiosity caught
hold of me and I had to give in to it so I said, “Guys, we need to know what’s up with all
this. Isabella just saved us from those things! I think she’s earned our trust! Let’s just listen
to her.” I took her hand.
“You can’t trust her Alex. What if this is just some sort of scam?” Rihanna said angrily,
“Ugh we shouldn’t have come at all! I knew there was something fishy about this woman!”
Rihanna was easy to convince if you tried hard enough, so I said, “Please Ri. Trust me.
Please.” And I extended my hand to her. She looked at me, disappointment and disbelief
evident in her eyes, but at last, she took my hand in hers and mumbled, “okay.”
“WHAT?!” Jonah yelled, “you guys can’t seriously be doing this! Isabella is crazy! This
whole thing is crazy!”
Isabella frowned, “Jonah McCain, please stay out of this. It is and Azural's job and is not
yours to decide.”
“What if we can make an exception? Let Jonah come with us. Please!” Rihanna pleaded.
“We won’t leave without him,” I said sternly.
Isabella looked like she was about to protest, but held back, “Fine. We will see what
happens to the Norm after the High Azurals of Zion Citadel are done with you two.”
“Come on Jo!” Rihanna said, and reached for his hand. He hesitated before grabbing hers
but held on anyway.
“Here we go!” Exclaimed Isabella, smirking.
And we pummeled through a kaleidoscope of colours, wondering whether this was all a
dream or whether it was truly happening.
********************************************************************************
Well, that’s also for you, dear Reader to decide. We still haven’t gone on our next
adventure yet. And while many of the Norms may call this fake, we Azurals know better.
And though our secrets are well hidden from Mere Mortals, Norms and Demons, it doesn’t

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mean this was all sheer imagination. If you believe in otherworldly powers and the
Supernatural, I suggest that you be prepared. There’s a lot more to the world, and we
Azurals trust you with this knowledge.
××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××
To be continued ……
Anoushka Sengupta

I AM ANOUSHKA

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 Perspective

A saying goes,
We only appreciate what we have, till we lose it
Still we choose to, scrutinize scrap and sinter
Every situation till it’s ruined.

Love a heart; for one day it shall be broken

See the world; for a storm might turn sight grey
Hear a whisper; for lies shall deafen thy brain
When your head’s down, you’re bound to only see heavy defeat
Chin up soldier, looking above is stars till the boundaries meet.

Sometimes you’re meant to fall

Sometimes it seems it’s all over
And if you find yourself there, hope you studied
He’s testing your faith again.

Even a diamond needs to be polished,

Who are you to cry out loud, dear?
Wound may heal, but scars they remain
But name me a victory, which came without pain

Where you begin, and see a goal too far to ever reach
Remember, someone is aiming to be right where you stand.
Life is but a circle of karma, where someone’s dead-end island,
Is another’s ocean of possibilities to expand.
- Shubham Das

I AM SHUBHAM

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Reminiscence of the Victorian Era - Artwork by Amrita
Description: Multimedia (Acrylic, Watercolor and Oil) on A2 Paper
The art piece is influenced by the works of famous artists -Salvador Dali and Duncan
Grant.

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Be the change! - Artwork by Danisha

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Happy Moment! - Artwork by Pratistha

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Artwork by Danisha

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Artwork by Danisha

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Let us have a crescendo of applause on the achievements!!!

Refer previous page for art- work which brought the laurel to Danisha !!!

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Certificate of appreciation from UAE Ministry & Indian Consulate

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 Kudos to Praapti Majumdar for this above achievement !!!
Also, thanks Praapti for taking care of the gourmet section of this issue.

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 A Good Samaritan

Bravo Shouvik ! Keep up the good work !!!

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 A short write up by Shouvik on why he went in for the Scribe duty

The past two years has changed me in drastic ways but definitely for the better. I have
learnt to make better decisions, which in my record, I wasn’t so good at. I had gotten
selected for SCRIBE duty, where I had to write exams for special students who were a
grade higher than mine, so as I was appearing for my 9th grade exams, I was also writing
their 10th grade exams simultaneously. At first I thought that it was going to be a lot of
responsibilities and I won’t be able to manage it appropriately and do justice on all fronts,
but with time, I learnt how to manage my work despite the fact that I was missing classes
due to the scribe duty. In the end, it was a huge plus point for me as I wrote tenth grade
board exams for the especially abled student even though I was in the 9th standard. I
indulged in extra curriculars like basketball and music and continued improving in these
fields both for fun and to keep myself healthy.

I plan to make the next 2 years of my life more productive despite the current situation
and I am thankful for all the blessings in my life.

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 Very well done Pritha Dey !!!

• My hobbies: Painting, Dance

• Favorite Singer: All Bollywood Singers
• Favorite movie: Maleficent, Bolt, Street Dance 3
• Favorite Place: Yas Island

I AM PRITHA

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MANDALA ART

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Mandala Artwork by Ananya Chatterjee

I AM ANANYA

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“Sadgati” of cracked mugs, Gazebo biryani handi and Old hard board
Artwork by Trishu Bhattacharya

• HOBBIES: Adventure sports, cooking, watching movies,

• Value adding to waste with art (using Yodogawa thought)
in this lockdown
• PASSION: Dancing
• FAV PLACE IN WORLD: Ladakh
• MOVIE: Rain Man, Hachiko

I AM TRISHU

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Daisy! - Artwork by Pratistha

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 Emirates Bengal Club of India (EBCI) – who we are ……

EBCI was founded on 1st June 2007. Presently, 50 plus families with bubbling enthusiasm constitute this
wonderful club and is run by an executive committee elected by the club members. The club belongs to
every member and mutual respect to each other is the key.

Club activities spanning through the year are designed to cover the myriad colors of Bengali culture for
every festive occasion found in Bengali calendar. One can see participation in widest range of gender and
age in all indoor and outdoor activities.

EBCI Annual Cultural Program (ACP), which has by now become the hallmark of our cultural talent and
brilliance, is a platform to showcase our inhouse talents in singing, dancing, recitation, drama etc. to the
audience of UAE.

EBCI also is the first among other clubs to bring many Bengali personalities to the UAE, like Anjan Dutta,
Rupankar, Lopamudra, Abhijeet and Anupam Roy, to name a few. EBCI has facilitated groups like
Chandrabindu, ‘Surojit o Bondhura’, ‘Bandish Fusion’ perform in the UAE. Few years back we had even
brought Nandikar Natok group of Rudraprasad Sengupta and provided an opportunity to the Bengalis of
UAE to relish and learn from their creativity. We were also instrumental in bringing all time famous Bengali
film personality Soumitra Chatterjee.

Many a times, we are also collaborating with the other Bengali clubs of the UAE to enjoy various programs
like Bangla film festivals, Drama competition, cricket competition etc.

A very simple membership criteria has been kept for joining EBCI. Any Bengali speaking Indian national (at
least one of the spouses shall be Indian and Bengali speaking) with valid UAE resident permit can join EBCI
as a member subject to approval of club’s executive committee.

Please join, experience the taste of Bengali culture in the UAE and feel like a home away from home. The
following pages present a few glimpses from the various events and activities we conduct through the year.

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 Emirates Bengal Club of India gathering & Cultural Programs

Cover page – “Spare some for the hungry”

Courtesy Mrs. Anindita Ghosh – Still life in watercolor
Back page - “The monotone of tears”
Courtesy Mrs. Sonali Ray – Pencil sketch
Cover page “gen zed”– “Love birds”
Courtesy Pratistha Ray – Life in watercolor

Editor – Mantosh Bhattacharya.

“My joy knows no bounds to see the magazine in this form. Thanks a lot, to all and special mention for Mr. Sanjeev Das
and Mr. President for their tireless support”.

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© EBCI 2020

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