Marilyn Monroe and Chanel No.5

During my M.Tech in Biotechnology in Jadavpur in 2001, one of my professors from Chemical Engineering Department Dr. Pinaki Bhattacharyya used to teach us diffusion. He used to take example of Chanel No.5 while explaining how fragrance molecules diffuse from one place to another. With a naughty smile he mentioned Marilyn Monroe loved to wear Chanel No.5. Then he digressed to nitty gritty of chemical engineering. But why did a smile hang on ?

I decode his furtive smile today. Today after long I retrieve the video which shows why Marilyn was famously linked to Chanel No.5 ! I could after all decode the hint in his smile. Watch it. Marilyn famously answered " Only a few drops of Chanel No.5 " when asked what did she usually wear to bed at night ! Much is left to your imagination.

Another ad on this theme was by Brook Shields for Clavin Klein jeans. " You know what's there between me and my Calvin Klein Jeans ? ....Nothing" said Brook Shields whose Blue Lagoon made many young men come of age in early 1980's.

How Bibhutibhushan published Pather Panchali

I share this anecdote from Sagarmoy Ghosh’s book ‘Rachona Sangraha’

Bibhutibhushan after his graduation worked for the rich Bengali zamindar Khelat Ghosh in Bhagalpur, Bihar. He was a manager at their timber industry. Trees of the forest in Bhagalpur were felled, cut and supplied to the timber merchants. Bibhutibhushan was working in that forest and this was the place which shaped Aranyak. This was also the place where Pather Panchali was written. Bibhuti babu being a sensitive soul longed for the literary adda of Calcutta and Upendranath Gangopadhyay was a lawyer in Bhagalpur at whose residence a weekly literary meet would take place. Upen babu noticed a tall man wearing a dhoti and kurta with a lathi and lantern at hand comes, sits quietly, listens intently and leaves quietly. One evening it was Kalboisakhi jhor. Nobody arrived at the meet. Upen babu found only Bibhuti bhushan is present. Quizzically he asked “ What do you do ? Why do you carry a lantern ? Why do you come ?” Bibhuti babu said he works at Khelat Ghosh’s zamindari, carries a lantern because he has to walk through the forest when he goes back at night and that he comes to enjoy the literary flavour. Upen babu asked “Have you written anything ?” “Yes,” said Bibhutibhushan, “ I have written a novel”. Upen babu was about to fall from his chair “ What !! You have written a novel?? People start with short poetries, and then they graduate to short stories. How come you have written a whole novel?? OK…give it to me next week. I shall read”. This was the conversation. After that Bibhuti babu left when the storm subsided. Next week Bibhuti babu came back with the novel he called Pather Panchali and very shyly handed it over. By the time Upen babu finished reading it he realized he has spotted a gem. The moment Bibhutibhashan came for next meeting Upen babu exclaimed “ Apni ke he moshai ? Ei lekha to jogot joi korbe !”. Looking at a shy Bibhuti babu Upen babu said “ But a word of advice…..you have to learn the metrics of writing….some chapters are too long, some are short….please count the words and distribute the chapters evenly….then you give it to me …I shall arrange for its publication”. Bibhuti bhushan was amazed. He went back and made the changes. When he handed over the final manuscript Upen babu said “ Bibhuti babu, as a father takes a son’s responsibility, I take your manuscript with same responsibility. I am going back to Calcutta. My son-in-law is funding me to start a weekly literary magazine. I promise your novel will be published in my magazine in episodes and mark my word, you are the next star of Bengali literature”.

Then Upen babu made Calcutta his base and started the magazine “ Bichitra”. In no time Bichitra became talk of the town. Bibhuti babu got the news of the phenomenal success of Upen babu’s effort but found that his novel Pather Panchali is still unpublished. By now almost a year has passed and Bibhutibhushan took up a school teaching job and came back to Calcutta. One day after school he visited Bichitra’s office. Upen babu was not there but a few suited booted Bengali gentlemen present there dismissed a dhoti kurta clad Bibhutibabu wearing a torn brown soiled cambis shoe as if he was a piece of dirt.. They were animatedly discussing sexuality in D H Lawrence’s literature. Waiting for Upen babu , a shy Bibhuti babu stood outside the door. Suddenly from a room inside came out Upen babu. Looking at Bibhuti babu coyly waiting outside he ran and embraced Bibhuti babu and exclaimed “Lo and behold the next star of Bengali literature. Bibhuti, you are going to revolutionize the literary field”. The gentlemen sitting on sofa were incredulous. They could not believe what they heard from a man of stature like Upen babu. Their jaws opened in disbelief and the collective thought was “ This man ! this lowly man with such dirty clothes and shoes is going to be the next star !! No, impossible .” How wrong they were. Pather Panchali started as episodic novel published in Bichitra. Bengal has never witnessed such plain emotions, such simplicity coming out from a village boy living a mundane life. It was so fresh. Upen babu got flooded with congratulatory letters. Bibhuti bhushan later on told that being a village boy he never liked the noise of Calcutta but that afternoon when Upen babu heralded him to the pantheon of Bengali literature he was ecstatic and humbled.

Rest as they say is history.

NB : A letter shortly after the publication of Pather Panchali came to Bichitra office. Bard of Bengal from Jorasanko, Calcutta wanted to know from Upenbabu who this new writer is !!

Santa Came to Kolkata

Christmas in Calcutta has always been a nice time. Hailing from a liberal family we always enjoyed the revelry of the festive season in Park Street. Nahoum’s cake ( the last Jewish shop in New Market), Flurys pastries, Jim Reeves, midnight mass at St. Paul’s cathedral and fairs in Maidan were parts of Calcutta living. As a child, I always received goodies in Christmas. That none other than Santa Claus brought them was my firm belief until my age of innocence was gone.

So it was natural that my nephew Harsh would be treated likewise during Christmas. And being a little child Harsh always believed in Santa. But the winter of 2003 was different. Harsh was 6 years old now. He demanded the proof of existence of Santa. No longer could he be placated with the story that Santa daddu brought all the goodies from distant North Pole riding on a sledge.

Seeing is believing. Being his dearest uncle I was entrusted with the duty of taking him to Santa. Many wise men and women suggested me shopping malls, restaurants and churches as probable places of Santa’s presence. Persons dressed up as Santa generally entertain little children in these places- they said. Now with this piece of information Harsh offered his help also. Every morning my cherub would scuttle pages of newspapers and Santa’s photo in any advertisement or news would herald Santa’s arrival to him which I had to take note of seriously. Why did these papers have Santa’s photos? To build a festive mood or attract children? Uff !!!

Anyway armed with this information Harsh and I embarked on the journey to find Santa on 25^th December evening in Kolkata (politically correct rechristened version of Calcutta). A visit to St.Paul’s cathedral and scenes of nativity therein did not show presence of Santa. With anxious nephew on tow I meandered through traffic filled roads of Kolkata to reach Park Street at 8’ o clock.  It was choc-a-bloc with revelers. But to Harsh it meant nothing.  Looking for Santa we reached Music World. The guard, to my nephew’s dismay, declared Santa was there but he left just now.  I was not prepared for what happened next. Harsh started crying and blaming me. A little child crying on the street can be a difficult proposition. This scene and my explanation thereafter attracted many sympathetic passersby who suggested that last resort of Santa may be shopping malls. We headed to Shopper’s Stop. It was 9.30 p.m. Santa was there in the morning. He has left in the evening. Harsh was furious. He would not budge a single inch. It was my entire fault and I had to pay the price by standing whole night in the December cold, declared harsh. Lot of coaxing and cajoling had us on the way to home. And voila! Our luck shined. Santa was there, in front of a restaurant. But spotting a real Santa Harsh became transfixed. When Santa said Hello and handed him a chocolate, Harsh was already speechless with awe. That white-bordered red velvet coat and white cotton beard of Santa bowled him over!

We did not walk back home; we flew. We soared on ecstasy; the ecstasy of seeing Santa brought wings to my nephew’s long cherished wish. On that day I realized the power of the sentence “Seeing is believing”. I shall never forget those twinkles in a little child’s eyes.

College Street Boi Para

As an exiled Calcuttan I witness with deep sadness the decline of a great city. Calcutta these days looks like a rich zamindar (landed gentry) falling into hard times. Yet in this city there exists an institution which I consider to be one of the best in the academically inclined world. I am talking of College Street ‘boi para’ (The ‘book shops/stores’ of College Street). Noted Bengali writer Shankar once lamented on closure of Thacker Spink, a Barnes and Nobles of India. But my story of College Street will show not all is lost.

It was 2007. I went home in June after joining IIT Bombay as a research scholar. I was looking for some books and what better place can be than College Street! I visited almost all the pavement book stores in search of ‘The Meditations’ by ancient Roman philosopher king Marcus Aurelius. Ever since I read Upamanyu Chatterji’s English August wherein the reference of this book I found, I got interested to get a copy. From the reference I knew Penguin India published this book way back in the 1960’s. But my search in College Street was in vain until I went to Dasgupta & Company, one of the oldest book stores in India since 1880’s. Following is the transcript of my dialogues with the affable Mr.Aurobindo Dasgupta.

Me: Hi, Do you have a copy of ‘The Meditations’ by Marcus Aurelius?

Mr.Dasgupta: No. That book is out-of-print for pretty long time in India. Penguin used to publish it in the sixties. But why do you need that book? Where are you from?

Me (surprised, thinking this man already knows what I know about the book!)  : Oh ! it is not there. Well…actually I am from IIT Bombay. I read a lot and I am interested to read this book.

Mr.Dasgupta: I see. You are from IIT. So you must have an internet connection?

Me (a little more surprised): Yes, but why do you ask?

Mr.Dasgupta: Well…then please log in to MIT library website. You will find the book. They have a copy. You can download the chapters and print.

Me: Thank you. I shall try that.

Now I was more than surprised. Could a College Street book store owner be so knowledgeable? My doubt was put to rest once I logged in to MIT library site. OMG! The book was very much there, for free!

Now tell me which book shop owner in this whole country can surprise you with such erudite all-encompassing love for book?

A Loyal taxi Driver in Calcutta

It was winter of 2003. We sold out our big ancestral home in posh South Calcutta location due to some unavoidable reasons and purchased two flats in a not-so-posh locality in Calcutta. Understandably we were sad since our distinguished forefathers who were a part of Bengal history enjoyed almost a century of residing in that posh locale. But one incident that happened to me in that time etched a deep memory.

It was a wintry morning. I was going to see our new property. I came out from our three-storied building to the street in front and hailed a cab. The taxi driver looked at me quizzically and then gave a long stare at our ancestral house. The moment I hopped in and told him my destination, he asked me “Is it your house? Does this place belong to you?” while starting his taxi. I was perplexed and became a little uneasy because many-a-times when you sell out a big property a lot of people in locality get to know somehow and become extra-inquisitive about the deal and its paraphernalia. And ours was a disputed property. So I had reasons to be alert. Anyway I said a curt “Yes” and kept mum through rest of the journey except while giving directions. When I reached my destination after half an hour or so I asked him how much should I pay? His reply baffled me more. He said “Babu, I will not take a single penny from you. This ride is for free. Even I can offer you a free ride every time you or your family member boards my taxi. I am forever grateful to your family. My father survived because of your ancestor’s kind refuge”. You do not expect this kind of answer from a cab driver who generally minds business. I was clueless. I asked him the reason for such kindness. Then he told me a true-story that shows loyalty, chivalry and humanity is not all lost in these days of all-pervading consumerism and capitalism. Hold your breath dear readers; I am going back to 1946!

16th August 1946 is a black day in Indian history. On that fateful day Muslim league launched their demand for a separate Islamic nation (Pakistan) strongly across India. Calcutta was the worst hit. History says at least six thousand people were butchered in Calcutta alone due to Hindu-Muslim riot ( Readers may watch a movie ‘Hey Ram’ starred by Kamal Hasan and Rani Mukherji to get a gut-wrenching glimpse of what actually happened on that very day on the streets of Calcutta or read ‘Bangalnama’ by Tapan Raychaudhuri). The said taxi driver is a Hindu whose father was young in 1946. Their family was disturbed in the said riot. Our family with the leadership of late Sri Kushi Prasun Chatterji ( my paternal grandfather’s eldest brother), a noted lawyer and Congress patron of his time in Calcutta offered refuge to many riot-stricken Hindu families including this said taxi driver’s family in our big ancestral mansion. Angered by this the local Muslim league leaders barged in and demanded Kushi babu’s intervention in supporting riot-afflicted Muslim families also. Kushi babu showed exemplary courage that day which is still remembered by old-timers in Bhowanipore locality of Calcutta. He immediately wrote a pact with Muslim league leaders that innocent Muslims will also be given refuge in our home given that they should not fight at any cost with the Hindu refugees. Realizing the graveness of the situation the said leaders signed the pact; the Muslim victims of riot too came in our house. For next seven days or so until the riots and hostilities subsided, until the communal hatred ebbed away the Hindu and Muslim riot-afflicted victims stayed in our house peacefully with their food and shelter completely taken care of by our family. This taxi driver was not even born then, his young father  took our refuge. Then they went back to their own homes after situation improved. And Kushi babu’s benevolence became folklore in Bhowanipore, Calcutta ( Kushi babu’s courageous tale got recounted recently albeit with less details than mine in 2007 by Dhritikanto Lahiri Chowdhuri in Anandabazar Patrika after he received Ananda Puroskar for his book ‘Hatir Boi’).

Now recounting his tale the cab driver told me with tears in his eyes “ Babu, once your forefathers saved mine. And my father always told me showing your house that anybody from that house is my guest and savior. Your house is our temple, babu ! How can I forget that you stay in that house and come from that family which saved our family from perishing for sure? Babu, my father is dead. But as long as I am alive I will follow what he said. I will not take a single penny from you, babu. Please tell this to your family also.” Now my eyes moistened as I heard his story. He left. But he left an indelible impression on me. I understood it is not a building that a man resides makes a man. It is not money that makes a man. It was Kushi Prasun Chatterji’s life-saving measures and good deeds that saved so many families from perishing away. And this extra-ordinary loyalty of an ordinary cab driver restituted my faith in humanity.

More on Bengali humour

I am following by a postscript of my earlier article on bengali humor.

Those who are good speakers are called “Bokta”. Those who speak much without content are “Bokbokta”.

Those who have a loud voice which does not require mic(microphone) are said to have a “Omaik” voice.

The next one is from my friend Harisadhan Dasgupta ( he was the first documentary filmmaker of India; though much older when I met him he became my friend). Two Bengali directors made a film jointly and got it selected for an International film festival. They asked Harisadhan how to have a catchy name for the duo. Harisadhan said “ Please choose the name DUI MAAL”. Readers, please remember Louise Malle was the name of an internationally recognized avant garde filmmaker. Hari dadu made a pun of Louis Malle’s name by DUI MAAL. What an apt nomencletaure.

Another I got from Tapan Raychaudhuri’s Bangalnama. In his younger days elders of the family used to chide the younger unemployed ones by this sentence “ Bari te bos e kichu podyo likhteo to paris . Dekh to Dwiju babu r choto bhai likhe kemon du poisa korche ?” Needless to say Dwiju babu is Dwijendranath Tagore and his choto bhai is Rabindranath Tagore.

My friend was watching a recent bangla movie called Anuranan. He did not like the movie at all. He was pissed off with the story line and acting. When asked for a review he told “ are bhai ota to cinema noi….jeno Sikkim r London er noishorgic drishyer powerpoint presentation”.

Overheard in Gariahat mor....looking at the huge chaos of pedestrians and traffic a bhadralok commented " LIC kore rasta par hote hobe Dekhchi" (Requires an LIC policy to cross the road...such menacing traffic)

MY CINEMAS

NOTE: This article written by me was first published in The Hindu, July 15, 2012.

Best Five

Motorcycle diaries (2004)

As a medical student and restless soul, Che Guevera, the mythic leftist youth icon traveled all along the South American continent in a rundown motorcycle with his biochemist friend Alberto Granado. The tour along the poverty stricken exploited populace of Latin America changed him forever and gave him the mission of his life. Che mixed whole-heartedly with lepers in the leper colony they served and refused to wear gloves while touching the lepers. In the end Che is a transformed character. This movie directed by Walter Salles has beautiful shots of landscape of South America with lilting music by Gustavo Santaollala. It is a must-see for all college students who have heart full of dreams, altruism and purity. The journey, the experiences can put one into introspection and transformation- such is the power of the movie.

There will be blood (2007)

Rise of a ruthless oil-magnate in California during the oil boom at the late nineteenth century and early twentieth century was documented in this movie. Beautifully enacted by Daniel Day Lewis, infuses life into the ruthlessness and avaricious character of the Daniel Plainview. The man utilizes innocence of a child to buy land and arm twists the local church to his monetary gain. At last he is friendless as he disowns his child and he kills the church priest.

Schindler’s list (1993)

Supposedly Spielberg’s best movie which won several Oscars with career-best performance by Liam Neeson as a benevolent German businessman who saved 1200 Jew’s lives during 2^nd world war. Shot in black and white it shows the horror of the Nazis and how Oskar Schindler ( Liam Neeson), a top ranking German businessman gives the Jews jobs in his factories and saves their lives. The scene where a young girl roaming aimlessly with a red rose and the last scene where the Jews presented him with a gold ring touched my heart. World renowned violinist Itzhak Perlman’s solo violin performance written and performed by him brought to life the trauma of gas chamber victims.

Meghe Dhaka Tara (1960)

This is a heart-rending story of an exploited daughter of a refugee family in Bengal. Supriya Chowdhury played the role of Nita, the daughter brilliantly. Everybody of that family rises up with her help forgetting her in the end. In a sanatorium in the end for treatment of TB, she cries from the bottom of the heart ‘Dada ami banchte chai’ ( Brother I want to live) when his brother narrates the story of well being of her family. A Rabindrasangeet ‘Je rat e mor duar guli bhanglo jhor e’ sung by Debabrata Biswas and Gita Ghatak is a brilliant rendition of a song displaying emotions of the central characters in a movie.

Apur Sansar (1959)

A Ray classic, the last part of Apu trilogy which brought Soumitra Chatterjee and Sharmila Tagore into films. A sweet tale of romance of newly weds Apu and Aparna disturbed by sudden death of Aparna (Sharmila). To forget his pains Apu (Soumitra) takes up a job in a coal mine in MP. One of the most memorable scenes in film history is when Apu throws away pages of his autobiographical novel which was supposed to be his dream-work. The floating pages drifting away in wind still bring lumps in my throat. Another poignant scene is at the end when Apu reclaims his son and walks to the new life.

Those five which almost made it

Central do Brasil (1998)

This movie is all about innocence. A disenchanted middle aged single lady, Dora develops a sweet attachment to an innocent 9 year old boy, Josue and goes on a journey of self-discovery to get the boy back to his father he never met. Dora earns by writing letter for illiterates in Rio Di Janeiro’s Central station which she never posts. She meets this boy whose mother accidentally dies in front of the station. She reluctantly takes care of the boy and tries to reunite him with his father who stays away in a small settlement in Brasil. The innocence in the storyline, in the sweet relationship between this lady and the boy tugs your heart-string. In the end she leaves this boy to get back to Rio and both are left alone with memories. This movie by Walter Salles won several awards in Berlin and Golden Globe.

City of God (2002)

City of god is my favorite any day. Reality does not escape from Rocket, the protagonist of City of God. He is a poor slum dog who wants to have a life free from crime and violence inherent in his surroundings. In Rio di Janeiro’s slum ‘City of God’, the natural course of a child’s life will be of drugs, crime and violence. Rocket’s gun-toting friends and siblings do the same thing. But Rocket wants to lead a clean life. Surprisingly, an ordinary camera comes to his rescue and becomes his passport to an honest world. He shoots photographs, not bullets, like gun-carrying friends and one day, his photograph of warring drug-lords of the slum makes front-page of a newspaper of which Rocket is a door-to-door distributor. Images of crimes from that slum are hard to come by; even police are averse to operate in that slum. Rocket knows these criminals from childhood and his proximity to these bad men is a boon. He can take inside images of this slum and those actually make Rocket a high-earning photographer. The escape from poverty through photography seems very much realistic to me. The man is rising above his destiny by hard work; not winning a jackpot through the hands of destiny. He is maintaining a core of honesty though surrounded by drug-dealers, petty snatchers etc. This act of reality attracted me the most. Fernando Mireilles directed this movie and it won 4 nominations in Academy awards though it won none in 2004. Despite that it is considered a world classic.

Nayak (1966)

This is another classic by Ray which portrays trials and tribulations of an amateur theater actor rising to stardom in films. Thought to be far ahead of its time, this movie shows the insecurities of a movie star, a hitherto unexplored theme in Indian films. Ray used the charisma of the matinee idol of Bengali cinema, Uttam Kumar. None other than Uttam Kumar seemed fit enough to portray the emotions of a film actor shown in several dream sequences and flashbacks while he goes to Delhi in a train. The probing questions of a lady journalist attract him towards her.

Fugitive Pieces (2007)

Recently after I saw ‘Fugitive Pieces’ (2007, directed by Jeremy Podeswa based on a eponymous novel by Canadian writer Anne Micheals) in IIT Bombay film club, a movie about Jacob Beer a holocaust survivor trying to coming to terms with his own loss I rediscovered the haunting melody of Beethoven….I realized why they say Beethoven is a timeless classic. Jacob’s sister used to play on piano ‘The Moonlight Sonata’ by Beethoven and Jacob remembers moonlight sonata from his past when they were a happy family of four until the Nazis hounded them in Poland, killed his parents in front of his own eyes and abducted his sister. Jacob survived miraculously with the kind help of a Greek archeologist. But the trauma that incident left behind is difficult to hide. He grows up in Canada, becomes a successful teacher and writer but never away from his past. He is consumed with the obsession of finding holocaust stories and writing them…..his wife Alexi deserts him once she gets to know from his diary how the shameless vitality of her is a distraction for Jacob’s endless pursuit of the past. In these moments and others when Jacob’s sister comes back in his dreams and memories I could identify with Jacob’s sense of loss.

Cairo time (2009)

I liked Cairo Time thoroughly. It is not like Turning 30 which I was suggested and got disappointed. 

Cairo Time essentially captures the love that never happened between two mature individuals 

disparate in their cultural settings. It's slow and long but passionate like smouldering ember. 

So don't see when you are particularly unhappy. But it's like coffee. Once you get into it you c

annot get out. At least I could not....The music, the photography, the moments of subtlety....s

imply touched me. Juliette, a mother of two comes from US to meet his UN official husband in 

Cairo. But her husband is away. In between she is taken care of by Tareq, a handsome Egyptian 

bachelor. Slowly she falls for Tareq over boat cruise on Nile, chess match in local café, a travel

 to the Pyramids and to Alexandria to attend Tareq’s old flame’s daughter’s marriage. 

They almost kiss once and despite that there are no scenes of physical intimacy; but when her 

husband returns after the long wait Juliette understands she has begun to miss Tareq. We get 

that hint by her uncontrollable sob  in her husband’s arm on the way to the Pyramids. A lovely 

ending for a love lost ! A sublime and haunting film on sensuousness embedded in a platonic 

relationship. This movie got an award in Toronto international film festival.