Of Bhuto and more......

I was a little girl when it happened. It was in our old house in 83, Bosepukur Road, Calcutta , on a sultry summer afternoon. It was the kind of afternoon when every living being seeks the shelter of a cool shade and nobody ventures out unless absolutely necessary. The windows are bolted and the curtains are drawn tight across them so that not even a sliver of the harsh sun can creep in. A ceiling fan whirrs lazily in the room offering little respite to the occupants. Air conditioners were a rarity in those days in a middle class home. To stay cool you took log showers with the water you stored in the bucket since morning and then pour copious amounts of talcum powder on your person. People avoided any work even in the house during the afternoons, preferring to stay put on their beds, whiling time napping or reading. It was on one such afternoon that I was loitering around the house while my grandmother, Amma  had her afternoon siesta. I read somewhere that hot weather seems to bother only those who tend to think about it…..how wise the man must have been to make such a keen observation. Because while most other people in the house were in the throes of inactivity because of the heat I was quite eager to make my way out into the veranda where I would usually indulge in dramatizations of whatever situation caught my fancy that day. I would play all the characters in the drama myself and generally while away the afternoon thus. But on this particular day as the mercury touched new heights I was forbidden by Amma to venture out. And while I was searching thus for any sort of activity to keep myself involved I stumbled upon him. He was just sitting there in a corner of the room, quiet and unobtrusive. Not very attractive or inviting, but I was looking for company and he was the perfect companion. He started narrating a story about a ventriloquist and his haunted puppet and I started getting gooseflesh as one usually does after coming across such stories, but I couldn’t stop him.he finished and started another story, this one about a pterodactyl’s egg and how a man stumbled upon it in the dense forests of Dandakaranya. This one was even more captivating than the previous one and by now I was so hooked I wouldn’t let him leave. But as the sun started losing its harsh heat and began its downward journey on the horizon, I had to take his leave. I was supposed to be engrossed deep in my books and if Amma found out I had a companion throughout the afternoon enthralling me with his stories, my few hours of freedom would be spent under her watchful eye from the next day. He promised to be back when nobody was looking. I spent the entire evening in a fervour scouting opportunities to bring him out but he came out only at night when everybody had gone to bed. Under the light of a torch we met again and thus started an affair which has grown into a relationship through the years. At first it was hush –hush but now I have declared my love for him to the world. And today on his birth anniversary, I relived all those stories of the past. Satyajit Ray , you gave me a rich childhood, you gave me company on long summer afternoons and harsh winter nights. You were a security blanket during the evenings when the Kalbaisakhi was raging outside the windows and I would be terrified of the howling winds and summer rain.for all these times I had a story to go back to , be it the spine chilling tale of Khagam or the mystical world of unicorns, be it tales of a man travelling through time to bring back stories for his son or the truly horrifying man eater plant in the forests of the satpura.as I grew older I realised there were many tones to simple stories. Piku taught me that human relationships have many fabrics to them while Patol Babu taught me that it’s perfectly fine to pursue your passion, even if the world does not appreciate or recognize your talents. With time I was introduced to your world of cinema where everyday relationships were shown in their simplicity but the heart and the mind were jolted to their core. “Pather Panchali” begins on such uncomplicated notes with two children in a field watching a train chug by but it goes on to tear your heart out when the old Kakima dies and the sister also leaves for her heavenly abode. Apu takes all disappointments in his stride and moves forward in life through “Apur Sansar” , where subsequently he loses his wife too, but he finally comes out “Aparajito”. His cinema is about real people with real emotions, people who are not willing to give up their life for others, people who do not stop living after tragedy befalls. “Charulata” plays out to perfection the emotions of a wife who is duty bound to her husband but finds her heart longing for another man who gives her the time due to her. The list goes on with Aranye Ek Din, Abar Aranye, Aranye Din Ratri , Feluda , Sonar Kella , Agantuk and many others. They all touched a chord and it is getting difficult to pen down thoughts as they are racing in quick succession through the mind. So I raise a toast to my dearly beloved…..HAPPY BIRTHDAY Mr.RAY!!!!