December 6, 2014

A Better Place - Soumalya Chakraborty



There’s nothing like a place full of life which suddenly changes to personify death itself.

The ever-bustling market presented such a picture this morning. The air was thick with smoke which bore the stench of death and carried the helpless wailing of humanity far and wide. Posters on the wall advertising the latest cinematic release were half burnt. Crumbling walls in desperate need of paint were splashed with a fresh coat of blood as victims of the bomb blast lay strewn around like discarded leaves. Some attempted to move, only to find the limbs which aid movement are gone. Some sat and stared in a daze-too stunned to assess their injuries, trying to come to terms with the tragedy that was forced upon so many lives.

Ambulances sped in and screeched to a halt. Medics ran around attending to people and stretcher-bearers carried victims away. The police kept a close watch on proceedings and were busy keeping onlookers from interrupting the relief process.

It was over in a few hours. The injured were ferried away to the nearest hospital, the dead, packed like cattle were transported to mortuaries where they would be disposed of post identification. Free of official obstacles, residents entered the market to survey the damages to their livelihood. 

In this suburb of Karachi, blasts appeared an eventuality which many were prepared for. Having seen a number of them over the years for reasons best known to the messengers of death who perpetrated them, a resident of this decrepit locality had learnt to say an extra prayer whenever it occurred, to thank the lord for sparing his/her life and carry on with business till the next one came along. Life teaches us that it always comes with a full-stop. However, to these residents, it also taught that the full stop could be placed just as a sentence was beginning or in the middle of it, cutting it off abruptly.

9 year old Arif wandered through the market looking at the wares strewn around. His dad ran a shoe repairing shop which had managed to evade the impact of the blast. With his parents helping others overcome the disaster, Arif had set out to check on his friends and their families.

 A mannequin suddenly caught his attention. It was that of a magician wearing a colorful robe and felt hat, brandishing his wand. Amidst all the burnt, trampled-upon and broken goods, the mannequin appeared brand new. The magician’s winning smile defying the pall of gloom, his sparkling eyes staring straight at Arif. 

That evening as Arif and his family said their prayers and readied themselves for bed, the magician stood on a bedside table, close to Arif. His parents were initially apprehensive of Arif bringing it home but preferred to say nothing as they hoped it would cheer their son up on a day when he learnt that three of his friends would no longer be with him at school and in the playground.

It appeared to be a dream when Arif heard his name being called in the middle of the night. However, the persistence of the voice woke him up to the fact that it was not.

Arif looked around but there was nobody in sight. His parents were fast asleep beside him. Their faint snoring coupled with the crickets outside were the only things he could hear for a few minutes.

And then it sounded again, “Arif”

It was a deep, rich voice, yet not loud. To Arif, it appeared that it was meant for his ears only. The direction of it made him look at the bedside table and he gasped!

The magician was standing in his usual pose, however, the magic wand was no longer pointing upwards. It was directed at him!

“Arif”, said the magician. “Don’t be scared. I have something very important to show you”

“You can talk!” exclaimed Arif. “Like one of those rich mens’ toys”.

“Hey, I am a magician, remember? Now extend your hand”

Arif did as he was told. The magician tapped his palm with his wand and instantly a view of a glorious place appeared before him. A majestic vista of tall, snow-clad mountains, pine trees, shepherds taking sheep and mountain goats for a stroll and streams brimming with cool, clear water.

Arif smiled. For the first time that day.

“Where is this place?”, he demanded.

“In this country”, smiled the magician. “Far away from where we are now”

And thus it continued.  Every night, after Arif’s parents fell asleep, the magician would show him something new of the beautiful place. The trees, the flowers, the way to get there. After tiring days involving school, housework and helping his father at his shop, the nocturnal sojourns were a refreshing release for the little boy who had hardly been anywhere beyond the boundaries of his town. To him, the existence of such a place was a dream come true.

Then came a night which changed it all. 

The magician appeared disturbed that night. He was tapping on Arif’s palm with his wand as usual but could not get the vision to appear.

“What’s wrong, Daanish?”, asked Arif. The knowledge he gained from his toy reflected in his choice of a name for it.

“We are in great danger, Arif”, said Daanish, the magician. “I can’t show you what you want to see as another vision is suppressing it. I didn’t want to reveal this but now I am afraid I must.”

“What is it”, said Arif. “What were you trying to hide?”

“The events which led to you finding me in the market. Look!”

Daanish tapped Arif’s hand with his wand. Instead of the paradise he was accustomed to seeing, a view of the market appeared before him”

“The market looks different! Majid uncle’s shop was destroyed in the blast. He and his family were killed.”, exclaimed Arif.

“This is the day of the blast” said Daanish in a grave voice. 

Arif looked on as a girl, roughly of the same age as him, entered a toy shop with his father. Looking around in anticipation, her eyes gradually settled on something.

“See something you like beta?”, asked her father, smiling fondly at her.
“Umar bhai”, the shopkeeper greeted him. “Buying something for your daughter?”

“Yes. She came first in her class at the annual exams. I promised her a gift if she did well”

“Masha’Allah!” exclaimed the shopkeeper. “Your daughter will make you proud one day. I will give you a discount on whatever she chooses to have”

“That’s what I want”, the little girl said. She was pointing at a mannequin of a magician, wearing a colorful robe and a felt hat. His cheerful smile gave him a debonair look.

Wrapping the toy in a parcel, father and daughter were ready to leave when the shopkeeper picked up another packet.

“Umar bhai, would you be so kind as to take this parcel and drop it in the post box across the street? My assistant is absent today and I can’t leave the shop in the middle of a busy day such as this. It’s a toy ordered by my brother-in-law for his niece.”

“Certainly”, smiled Umar. Clutching the parcel in one hand, he held his daughter’s hand in the other as he left. The little girl appeared super excited. Walking with a spring in her step.

As they left his shop and mingled in the crowd, the shopkeeper picked up a device which resembled a remote control. He watched intently as father and daughter approached the center of the market which was the most crowded. 
Then he pressed the button.

A deafening sound made Arif block his ears with both hands, a ball of fire erupted from the centre of the market as a shockwave spread outwards-destroying everything in its way.

The vision disappeared. Arif was shaking, his mind taking him to the scenes after the blast, a month back.

“The time has come for us to leave. Towards the “jannat” which you have been seeing every day”, said Daanish.

Unbeknownst to his parents, Arif walked out of the house holding Daanish in his hand. He walked through the market, past the houses in the small town as his neighbors slept peacefully, leaving his erstwhile life behind, guided by Daanish towards the mountains and the spring.

He was far away as another blast rocked the hapless town the next morning. It wasn’t kind to Arif’s parents this time around. Their shop was blown to smithereens and both of them had the full stop placed firmly in the middle of their sentences of life.

As the familiar cloud of death engulfed the town, Arif was walking steadily away from it all. To a place where a toy could be a child’s friend, instead of a messenger of destruction.



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Soumalya Chakraborty

About the author: Soumalya Chakraborty did his Masters in English Literature from University of Hyderabad and have been here since 2006. He currently works in a Gaming company as a Project Manager. Though professionally he is not into literature but reading and writing have always been an integral part of his life and will continue to be. Soumalya joined Bengalis in Hyderabad actively in 2011 and for him it's been a blast so far with all the friends. He has organised activities and has participated in. The networking he made in Bengalis in Hyderabad has benefited him till now. 




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October 21, 2014

Ancient Echoes - Soumalya Chakraborty





















The strains of a mysterious tune wafted through the night. It floated through the misty forest and found its way to a small cottage by the woods. As 10 year old Marie was preparing to climb onto her cozy bed, the music reached and almost immediately enthralled her.
Marie and her mother, Giselle, had moved into the cottage after they lost Paul, Marie’s father, in an accident near Munich. Paul’s absence made the familiar locations unbearable with a barrage of memories constantly flooding in. Also, the expenses of living in Munich proved tough to bear on the earnings of Gisele alone.
That’s when Gisele took up the offer to teach music to little kids at a school on the outskirts of Hamburg. The quiet, scenic life and the presence of the little ones around her, comforted Gisele. Marie was happy to roam the countryside and play with the 3 kittens her mother had recently adopted.

This night, as Marie opened her bedroom window to look for the source of music, something made her immediately turn to the cathedral a mile away, on the road towards the school where Gisele taught. She visited it with her mother for prayers every Sunday. Marie wondered how a service could be in progress at this time of the night.
There was only one way to find out-she would have to pay the cathedral a visit.
Ordinarily, Marie would never consider going out that late. However, there was something about the music that called out to her. Her inclination towards playing the Piano added to the appeal of the notes enveloping her senses. As she quietly made her way out of the house, she didn’t seem to notice that the door had opened by itself and softly closed behind her as she walked out. Gisele’s sleep was not disturbed.

The cathedral loomed over Marie like a prehistoric monster. Built in the 17th Century, it once served as a shelter for the town’s residents during the World Wars. On its frame, one could still spot bullet marks and damage caused by shelling from tanks when the Allied army had stormed it towards the end of 1944, dragging out Gestapo officials hiding in it and executing them in the porch.
Marie walked past the aisles towards the alter. As she approached it, she turned right to take the stairs towards the Priests’ quarters. Unerringly guided by the music, she approached a small room adjacent to the balcony in the first floor. The door opened for her and she entered, looking at the German soldier who was playing a Piano.
The soldier’s uniform was nothing like she had ever seen. The untucked shirt was held by a belt around the middle. Several Medallions hung from the breast pockets while a curious cross adorned the shoulder.
The soldier looked at Marie and smiled. He seemed quite young.
“Come here, child. Do you play the piano”, he asked.

“I do, but not as beautifully as you. I have a lot to learn”, Marie replied.
“Would you like to learn from me?”
“I would be happy to, Sir”
The soldier left his seat and let Marie take it. The instant her fingers touched the keys; a rush of notes overwhelmed her mind. The notes were jumbled at first, making no sense, just noise, but gradually, they fell into place and arranged themselves into a composition.
Marie had no clue how it occurred to her. Her fingers flew over the keys, producing an unfamiliar but enchanting wave of music. She realized it was an entirely new tune that she was playing. Something great, which generations would remember.

Yet, after playing for an hour, she stopped-or rather, her fingers stopped moving. The notes which seemed imprinted in her mind suddenly vanished. 
Puzzled, she looked at the soldier standing beside her, a wistful smile on his face.
“We seem to have learnt a lot already”, he said.
“I did not play that. It appeared my hands were no longer in my control.” said Marie, “it all occurred to me on its own.”
“And why did you stop?”
“Because the notes ended abruptly. The composition seems….incomplete”
“You are right! So let’s finish it. I started composing this piece but was interrupted while I was at it. Afterwards, the tunes just wouldn’t come to me no matter how hard I tried. Maybe you can help me find them”, said the soldier with a note of determination in his voice. 
“But how can I assist you with a grand composition such as this? I can barely play”, exclaimed Marie.
“Creation has a way of completing itself, child. Music can manifest itself through a passionate mind and strong will. I believe it has a life of its own. It only needs a dedicated medium to come together”
The soldier put Marie’s hands on the Piano again. As her eyes closed and fingers hovered over the keys, the notes engulfed her mind again. Through the familiar stream of chords she had played earlier, she started to envision new ones which made sense as extensions. As her fingers conjured the new pieces, the soldier laughed in excitement.
“Yes, yes! We are making progress!”, he was elated.
Marie played in frenzy-repeating the entire composition over and over with the new additions which took it forward. She hardly felt the transition of her existence from normal to ethereal through the steady stream of music which seemed to fill the entirety of her existence.
The next morning found Gisele sick with worry as she looked for Marie all over the place. She could not figure how she left the house when the door was locked. She hardly knew anyone in this town, having moved in only a month back. After informing the authorities, she stopped by at the cathedral to talk to the priests in the hope of comforting herself.
Father Arno Moriani listened gravely as a tearful Gisele narrated her story. When she told him how much her daughter loved playing the piano, Father Moriani gasped in shock.
“What’s the matter, Father” asked Giselle
Father Moriani escorted Giselle to the first floor. Towards the corner, she spotted a heavily bolted room which didn’t seem to have been opened in years.

Father Moriani asked one of the cathedral helps to get the keys to the room. As the ancient door creaked open, it revealed a decrepit piano in the middle of a dusty, disheveled room.
However, there was something on the piano which caused Gisele to almost faint. Marie’s gloves!
“Those gloves…they are my daughter’s”, screamed a hysteric Gisele. “Where is she?”
“I am afraid your daughter is no more, my child”, said Father Moriani in a gentle voice.
“But…why…how?”, Giselle stammered.
“This room was the hideout of Colonel Dieter. His army had been massacred by the Allied forces near Cologne. He had managed to escape and find shelter here.
Apart from being a decorated soldier, Dieter was also a gifted musician. Those who heard him play said that had he devoted his life to music, he would have become a great composer. Away from the battlefield, Dieter confined himself to this room, pouring out his anger and agony through music.
Unfortunately for Dieter, the Allies found out about him and few of his men who were hiding here. As Dieter was in the middle of his composition, they stormed the cathedral, overcame the weak resistance his men offered and dragged him out. As they prepared to shoot him, he kept pleading with them to allow him to finish the composition before they killed him.
From that day, the piano seems to have taken up the mission to complete Dieter’s work. It makes itself heard to those who play and bring them here. In exchange for their lives, a new section is added to the composition. Each note in that composition is music perpetuating itself through sacrificial souls”
Later that evening as Fabian, one of the young students of Gisele at the music school, was passing by the cathedral, he was surprised to hear an unfamiliar strain of music being played in it. As he found his way to the source, he walked into the room in the first floor to see a young girl of 10 intently playing the piano. Transfixed, Fabian listened as she played the most wonderful tune he had ever heard, only to pause suddenly in the middle of it.
“That was fantastic! Why did you stop?” asked Fabian.


The girl turned to him, “I can’t think of the next tune. Will you help me?”

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Soumalya Chakraborty

About the author: Soumalya Chakraborty did his Masters in English Literature from University of Hyderabad and have been here since 2006. He currently works in a Gaming company as a Project Manager. Though professionally he is not into literature but reading and writing have always been an integral part of his life and will continue to be. Soumalya joined Bengalis in Hyderabad actively in 2011 and for him it's been a blast so far with all the friends. He has organised activities and has participated in. The networking he made in Bengalis in Hyderabad has benefited him till now. 




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August 4, 2014

Chitrangada is a quest for identity - Souravi Ray

























This is an entry from the "Celluloid Diary" blogging contest conducted as a part of run up to the Hyderabad Bengali Film Festival 2014. We received many entries and the jury selected few among them to be showcased. The winning entry will be published in the upcoming edition of Kolaj, the yearly magazine, published by Bengalis in Hyderabad.

Theme: বিগত ১০ বছরের মধ্যে কোনও উল্লেখযোগ্য সিনেমা যেটা তোমার ভালো লেগেছে সেটার মধ্যে এমন কি বিশেষত্ব ছিল যা তোমাকে সব থেকে বেশি আকৃষ্ট করেছে? (Think about some noteworthy Bengali films over the last decade and tell us about one which appealed to you the most. What aspect(s) of it were the most captivating, in your opinion?)

Chitrangada is a quest for identity. Rabindranath’s Chitrangada too journeyed to find her true self and finally she declares “Ami Chitrangada, rajendranandini/ Nohi devi, nohi samnya nari” – I am Chitrangada, the princess/ Not a Goddess, neither a common woman either. In Ghosh’s Chitrangada too, time and again there is reference that he wishes to be remembered as a creative, vivacious, albeit a bit eccentric person and his final realization is just the same. He never really wanted to change anything about him. He wanted some “cosmetic” stuff to probably conform to the existing norms of the society. Honestly it didn’t work out for him. When you are in search of authenticity, cosmetic is nothing but a deterrent. He realized that in his quest at the end, very similar to what Rabindranath’s Chitrangada had.

Ghosh’s Chitrangada is a multi-layered production. It touches the emotions and relationships at every level. Be it the relation between parent(s) and the child or between two male partners or even between an admirer (Mala) and his mentor (Ghosh), Ghosh deals with his signature style story-telling, very subtly, devoid of any exaggeration. And I can’t help but applaud this effort very loud. The relationships dealt here are even though very much existing but are covered up everywhere in the society. Taking that up and presenting it as is without being judgemental is something only a genius can do. Period...

However the most important statement Ghosh tries to make in this movie is that an individual’s identity is not dependant on his/her gender. And that’s why the main protagonist is probably named “Rudra” – the quintessential “ardhanarishwar”. Probably too much emphasis is given to one’s gender. In reality however, it is the soul, the being - that matters. The soul that creates, feels, contemplates, realizes and understands. And for none of these activities gender is of use or importance. 


In Chitrangada though, at the beginning Ghosh says that “it’s a story of desire”. But it transcends beyond that and appears as a quest to find oneself, going much beyond the narrowness of gender identity to an infinite realm of human psyche – where creativity matters, relationship matters, few things being sacred - matters...

[The film moved me. It is a humble effort of mine to catch the essence...]

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July 25, 2014

Resonance…… [Anuranan] - Aruna Bhattacharya

A scene from Anuranan

~~~~~
As we pass through the numerous crossroads of life we come across many who accompany us in this journey of myriad experiences. Underlying this is a resonance, a chord which strikes between two people
~~~~~


This is an entry from the "Celluloid Diary" blogging contest conducted as a part of run up to the Hyderabad Bengali Film Festival 2014. We received many entries and the jury selected few among them to be showcased. The winning entry will be published in the upcoming edition of Kolaj, the yearly magazine, published by Bengalis in Hyderabad.


Theme: বিগত ১০ বছরের মধ্যে কোনও উল্লেখযোগ্য সিনেমা যেটা তোমার ভালো লেগেছে সেটার মধ্যে এমন কি বিশেষত্ব ছিল যা তোমাকে সব থেকে বেশি আকৃষ্ট করেছে? (Think about some noteworthy Bengali films over the last decade and tell us about one which appealed to you the most. What aspect(s) of it were the most captivating, in your opinion?)



It was a letter, a hand written one with a portrait- a la-Titanic style. And he was trying to make sense taking examples from life’s jigsaw puzzle. Like with a piece in jigsaw many other pieces can be tried but there is just one unique combination that makes it perfect. And before that perfect picture is obtained many combinations can be tried and these are worthwhile. These makes the ‘piece’ more experienced. And there he tells 'her' that not every relation has to have a name.

Such is life. When memories turn olden they become meaningful.

It was when he (“Rahul_Bose") was zipping through those mustard fields driving that Merc, 'she' was transported to a different place with 'her' eyes glued on the 70mm. Memories of mustard fields from the land of Vikings came alive. But 'she' did wake up at the sight of Big Ben and did realize that was London and he was zipping through the lovely country side of London.

Eto anuranon kano?  'She' asks herself.

The father comes looking for his daughter as she has just moved to the city after staying away for so long and he looks for her and her husband. And he calls for “him”.  'She' was surprised as that reminded her of a name.

Eto anuranan kano? 'She' asks herself.


While still in front of the 70mm 'her' mind was taking wandering trail through different timezones, different landscapes, different space and time and 'she' did find herself asking:

"Koto anuranan, koto spondon
Koto jigyasha, koto bhalobasha
Somoy egiye jaye, jibon kete jaaye
S(m)riti aar bis(m)riti hoye jaaye ekakar
Ei jibon e koto anuronon, koto spondon"


[In this blog, I capture my own feelings, as I felt while watching a Bengali movie (‘Anuranan’) in a theatre in Delhi. The experience was such that it made me nostalgic connecting my life experiences which I expressed in this blog. Word count: 274] 

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July 24, 2014

কোলকাতার এক মিষ্টি দুপুর - শিউলি গাঙ্গুলী

This is an entry from the "Celluloid Diary" blogging contest conducted as a part of run up to the Hyderabad Bengali Film Festival 2014. We received many entries and the jury selected few among them to be showcased. The winning entry will be published in the upcoming edition of Kolaj, the yearly magazine, published by Bengalis in Hyderabad.


Theme: বিগত ১০ বছরের মধ্যে কোনও উল্লেখযোগ্য সিনেমা যেটা তোমার ভালো লেগেছে সেটার মধ্যে এমন কি বিশেষত্ব ছিল যা তোমাকে সব থেকে বেশি আকৃষ্ট করেছে? (Think about some noteworthy Bengali films over the last decade and tell us about one which appealed to you the most. What aspect(s) of it were the most captivating, in your opinion?)

২০১২এর ডিসেম্বরের কোলকাতার এক মিষ্টি দুপুর।  মুক্তধারা সিনেমার নুন শোয়ে হলে গিয়ে দেখি হাউজ ফুল। ভাবলাম ছবিটিতো সত্যজিত রায় বা মৃণাল সেনের মতো কোন প্রখ্যাত চলচ্চিত্র পরিচালকদের নয়, তবুও দর্শকদের মধ্যে কেন এত উৎসাহ? সুতরাং কিছুটা দ্বিধাগ্রস্থ হয়েই হলে গিয়ে বসলাম।

নন্দিতা রায় ও শিবপ্রসাদ মুখোপাধ্যায় পরিচালিত মুক্তধারা ছবিটি যতই এগিয়ে চলল মুগ্ধ বিস্ময়ে তার অন্তর্নীহিত রস আস্বাদন করতে লাগলাম। বিগত দশকে যে কয়টি বাংলা সিনেমা দেখার সৌভাগ্য হয়েছে তার মধ্যে মানবিক মূল্যবোধ তথা উপস্থাপনার উৎকর্ষতায় এই ছবিটিকেই আমি শীর্ষ স্থানে রাখবো। জেলবন্দিদের দৈনন্দিন অত্যাচারিত জীবনের অন্তরালেও যে সুস্থ ও স্বাভাবিক মনের এক অপরিসীম ছন্দ লুকিয়ে আছে তাকে ঘিরেই এই ছবিটির অবতারণা। ক্ষয়িষ্ণু সমাজ ব্যবস্থার সেই ঘুণধরানো অসুখটাকে একটু ভালবাসা ও সহানুভূতি দিয়ে কাছে টেনে নিলে কয়েদিদের জীবনেও যে মুক্তির স্বাদ আসে সেই জীবন দর্শনের কথাই ছবিটি আমাদের প্রতি পদে পদে চোখে আঙ্গুল দিয়ে দেখিয়ে দিল। পরিচালকদ্বয় যে মুন্সীয়ানায় জেলখানার সেই মুক্তির আলোর পথটাই উন্মুক্ত করেছেন সেটাই আমাকে ভীষণ ভাবে আকৃষ্ট করেছে।  



সিনেমাটির কেন্দ্রীয় চরিত্র নৃত্যাঙ্গণারূপী নীহারিকাও যেন সংসারের বৃত্তে হাঁপিয়ে ওঠা এক কয়েদি। হঠাৎ জেলখানার বন্দিদের নিয়ে একটি অভিনব নাচের ওয়ার্কশপ প্রকল্পে তার যুক্ত হবার সুযোগ আসে। বহু পরিশ্রম ও বাধাবিঘ্নের পর মঞ্চস্থ হয় নৃত্যনাট্য‘বাল্মীকি-প্রতিভা’। দস্যুরূপী রত্নাকর হল নাইজেল নামে বাস্তবিক জীবনে সাজাপ্রাপ্ত এক কয়েদি। এই নৃত্যনাট্যের প্রভাবে নাইজেলের জীবনে আসে এক মহৎ পরিবর্তন। ক্রমে প্রকৃত জীবনেই সে হয়ে ওঠে বাল্মীকি। মুক্তধারাতো শুধু সিনেমা নয়, এ তো এক নূতন জীবন। এই জীবনকে আরও ঋদ্ধ করেছে নীহারিকারূপী ঋতুপর্ণা, ইউসুফ খান বেশী নাইজেল ও অন্যান্য কলাকুশলীদের মর্মস্পর্শী অভিনয়। ছবিটির বৈশিষ্ঠ্য চোখে পড়ে দৃশ্যের সংলাপে, নৃত্য পরিকল্পনায়, ক্লাইমেক্স, হিউমার ও নিপুণ নিটোল সম্পাদনায়। সব মিলিয়ে এ এক অসম সাহসী সৃজনশীল পরিবেশনা।         

নৃত্যনাট্যের কোমল পরশেই বেরিয়ে আসে জেলের ভেতর ও বাইরের মানুষগুলোর খোলনলচে। শ্রাবণের ধারার মতো মুক্তস্নান সেরে, সবার ভেতরের জমাট বাঁধা অন্ধকার হয় দূর। আসে নতূন জীবনের আগমনী বার্তা। ছবিটি শেষ হবার পরও আমাদের মনের পাতায় ধরা থাকে তার রেশ।    


বিঃদ্রঃ  বাংলা সিনেমার উপর এধরণের কুশলী চিন্তাধারার Blog Competitionএর বিষয়বস্তু নির্বাচন করে HBFF Fans প্রতিষ্ঠানের কর্মকর্তারা আমাদের মধ্যে মত বিনিময়ের যে সুযোগ করে দিয়েছেন সেজন্য তাদের জানাই অসংখ্য ধন্যবাদ । 


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July 23, 2014

Goodbye - Sandeep Chatterjee






























This is an entry from the "Celluloid Diary" blogging contest conducted as a part of run up to the Hyderabad Bengali Film Festival 2014. We received many entries and the jury selected few among them to be showcased. The winning entry will be published in the upcoming edition of Kolaj, the yearly magazine, published by Bengalis in Hyderabad.

Theme: তোমার চারপাশের কোন ঘটনা নিয়ে যদি তোমাকে একটা সিনেমা বানাতে হয় তাহলে কি নিয়ে বানাবে আর কাদের cast করবে Tollywood থেকে? (Think of an incident around you, based on which, you would like to make a movie. Tell us about the incident and the actors you would choose for it.)

It was a dark night. The fourteen year old child was complaining of severe pain in the spinal cord. He had not eaten for the last 2 days. Everyone was terrified. The mother was sitting next to her waiting for the doctor. The clock stuck two. There was a knock at the door. The doctor had arrived. He did a routine checkup and asked for some tests to be conducted.

Next day, the mother is waiting outside the diagnostics center for the report. Her fears have come true. The child has been diagnosed with Stage IV cancer in the spinal cord. Hell broke loose.

The child was shifted to the Pain and Palliative Care Society as the house was becoming a mourning center. The mother has two more children and this was the youngest. She was with him throughout day and night. The doctors and nurses were urging her to go home as there was somebody to take care of him. But she was determined. She wanted to say him ‘Goodbye’ and go home.

The day had finally arrived. The child was not responding to any treatment. Finally the doctor pronounced him dead. The mother looked out of the window. She was prepared but such was her determination that she did not leave him even for a single moment till life changed its plans.

The entire family had come to take the dead body. Everyone was weeping inconsolably except the mother. She was the epitome of determination.

Cast:
Mother: Debasree Roy

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July 6, 2014

নবজাগরণ - Soumalya Chakraborty

Hyderabad Bengali Film Festival 2014

(This is part of the series of small posts where we look at some much-acclaimed Bengali films of recent times and their specialties which left an impression all around. I’ll start off by looking at what a film festival means to me followed by my views on the films themselves. The idea is to get excited about the upcoming film festival and get ourselves immersed in discussion ahead of all the special movies we are going to watch and interpret.)

সমুদ্রের চঞ্চল কিনারে
হারিয়ে যেতে তুমি বার বার,
ঢেউ তুলেছিলে পিপাসা মেটাতে।
কিন্ত গভীরে যেতে মেনেছিলে হার!

আজ সহসা এলে কি,
তোমাকে নতুন রূপে পাইঃ
আজকের ঢেউ ভাঙছে কিনারা
মন বলে “এই তো আমি চাই

সহজ কথা আসেনা সহজে
এই বিশ্বাসে ঝিনুক কুড়িয়েছি কত!
সূর্যের নতুন রং যায়ে নি ভাবা,
যতদিন হয়নি চেনা সমীকরণ আহত।

ফিরে এসেছি নিয়ে অপু আর অ্যান্থনি
গল্প তাদের হয়নি আজও শেষ
নতুন ভোরের আলোয় পুরনো আলোকিত
প্রকাশ পেয়েছে “মেঘে ঢাকা তারা” র দেশ।

বিবেচনাহীন অনুকরণের আধিক্য,
অথবা দুর্বোধ্য মগজ ধোলাই,
মনে হত মনোরঞ্জনের চটকে
চলচিত্রে চিতার আগুন জ্বালাই!

আজ দেখি এক নতুন ভোরের আলো
নিয়ে ভূতের বিদ্রোহ বা হেমলক
মাছ, মিষ্টির অর্থ করে নতুন
একলা আকাশে আজ তারা উজ্জ্বল হোক।

বাংলা সিনেমা আজকে নতুন করে,
রেখেছে সংবেদনশীলতার নাড়ীতে হাত
চলচিত্র উৎসবে তাই আজ,
বাঙালি রেডি, করতে বাজিমাত।

BiH এর উদ্যোগে আয়োজিত,
Film Festival-এ সবার আমন্ত্রন
হায়দ্রাবাদ এর সকল সিনেমাপ্রেমী,
আসুন নতুন যুগ কে করি বরণ।

To book your tickets for #BiHFilmFestival, please visit MeraEvents or Bookmyshow

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