Saraswati Puja 2011 Somerset Bengali Association
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Somerset Bengali
Welcome to the 2011 Saraswati Puja of the Somerset Bengali Association.
Association A Non-Profit New Jersey Corporation www.somersetbengalis.org Email: somersetbengalis@gmail.com Vol. 3 - Annual Magazine EDITORS Reetika Gupta & Sanchoy Das CONTENTS Welcome to the SBA Puja ............... Thomke ache Dupur ........................... My Bahi PhNota .................................. Saraswati Puja is Coming ................. A Day at the Beach ............................... Snow Days ............................................... A New & Old Time in Space ............. Invisible Girl ........................................... The Snowy Day .................................... Our Saraswati Pujo .............................. Summer Fun ........................................... Family Tales ........................................... Baro Mashe Tero Parbon ................. The Black Cherokee ........................... The Bengali Equilibrium ................... In the Twinkle of an Eye! .................. Winter ...................................................... Winter Story Books ............................ Buridi ....................................................... Rabindranath Tussi Great Ho! ......... The Bengalis of Somerset ................ Amader Monche Rabindranath ...... Purano Se Diner Katha ...................... The Snowpocalypse ............................ Singapore ................................................
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With great pleasure and excitement we invite you to the 4th Saraswati Puja organized by the Somerset Bengali Association (SBA). We welcome and thank all of our guests, participants and sponsors who have provided support for this year’s event. As communicated last year, we successfully registered SBA as a non-profit organization. During the year many of you joined SBA as founding members. It gives us immense pleasure to welcome you all to the SBA family. An event like this obviously cannot be successful without a significant effort from many members of the community. We would like to thank the various committees, directors, choreographers and others who have worked tirelessly to make this event happen. Never before have we seen such engagement, enthusiasm and excitement as in this year’s Puja. All was not perfect; the usual fervor was accompanied by moments of disappointment, and frustration. But these distractions were not enough to stop us from moving forward and having a great time. This year as you may have noticed, we have brought a new Protima from Kumartuli, Kolkata. This is a significant milestone and ensures the continuation of this event. Also, for the first time, we have invited a commercial artist, Rasika Shekar, to bring new flavors to our cultural program. SBA has come a long way in the last 4 years from a small Puja with few families to an association with long term objectives. The organization has been, and will continue to provide a platform for our children to showcase their talents. In addition, we wish to provide them an opportunity to demonstrate and enhance their leadership and organizational skills. This is easier said than done; but, as an organization we realize this is an important aspect, and we will strive hard to make it happen. Soon, we plan to meet with our members to establish other goals of the organization. Therefore, if you are interested, please become a member and help drive these initiatives. Please contact any of the board members for a membership form. Again, thank you for your continued support and hope you enjoy this year’s Saraswati Puja.
Members, Board of Trustees COVER ART
In the spirit of our association, the cover art blends continents and generations. Saraswati image by Sneha Ganguly (Bridgewater, USA) and Border design by Surya Sengupta (Kolkata, India)
Somesh Choudhury Kallol Ghosh
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Sanchoy Das Sudip Chakraborty
Saurav Ghosh
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Somerset Bengali Association Saraswati Puja - February 2011 Officiating Priest: Satyaprasad Chattopadhyay Event Manager: Saurav Ghosh Fund Raising: Kallol Ghosh, Somesh Choudhury, Sanchoy Das, Sudip Chakraborty Cultural Committee: Manjari Chowdhury, Satabdi Choudhury, Mausumi Majumdar, Amit Ray, Sharmistha Sen Food Committee: Nabanita Chakraborty, Nazneen Rahim, Bipasha Gupta, Krishnendu Mukhopadhyay, Rina Roy Light & Sound: Amit Ray, Tushar Mukherjee Puja Arrangements: Suparna Das, Sharmila Ghosh, Molly Chowdhury Decoration: Chanu Das, Subrata Roy Hall Management: Prasun Chowdhury, Sarbashis Ghosh, Dipak Roy
Summer Picnic - August 2010 Event Managers: Aparajita Ray & Sangeeta Mukhopadhyay Thanks to the many volunteers who made these events a success
Thomke ache dupur Charcoal Sketch by Sharmistha Sen 6
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My Bahi PhNota of Four Generations - Joheen Chakraborty This story is about a special experience I had when I went to India during last fall.
“Uhhh…”I groaned, waking up to the sound of a blowing conch shell. I found that I was the last person still sleeping. I wondered why everybody was already awake, and suddenly I realized… Today was the day of a festival called Bhai PhNota (pronounced Bhai Fota). The concept was that brothers get a chandan (sandal wood paste) mark put on their forehead by their sisters, for well wishing. “So you’re finally awake?” said a voice. It was my mom. “Get ready— everybody’s waiting to see you.” After I changed into punjabi, I went downstairs and saw that everybody was ready. My five granduncles were sitting next to each other and my grandma was preparing for their well-wishing. My aunts and uncles were grouped together likewise. Two of my oldest relatives, my great-grandmother and great-grand -uncle were sitting on the bed next to each other. I took my spot on a small mat where my older cousins stood by and the little ones were held on their mom’s lap. We went by generation; mine would go first, then my dad’s, my grandma’s, and lastly, my great-grandma’s. I went first, since I was oldest in my generation. First came my 2-year-old cousin sister. She awkwardly hobbled over, and took a great big glob of chandan. As she rubbed it onto my forehead, she sang, “ভাইয়ের কপায় দিাম ফ্নতা ,যয়মর িুোয়র পড় কাাঁটা ''. After that, I held out a present for her. She grabbed the box and asked, “এটা দক চকয়ট "???I just smiled. Next came my 3 year old cousin. She simply placed a dot on my forehead. When I offered her the present, she gingerly took it and quietly walked away. Last was my 12-year-old cousin sister, who also said the rhyme, put a phNota on my forehead and blessed me. The same thing happened to my brother, then my little cousin brother. We had to touch the feet of the elder ones. We were all thrilled to get presents and lots of sweets to eat. The same thing happened to my dad’s generation, except it took much longer with a lot more people who were 20-30 years older than me. Then, my grandma’s generation went along with the ritual. Lastly, when my great-grandma placed a phNota on his brother everyone was happy. My great-grandma looked very frail and grandma and other relatives were not sure that she will be able to participate. Me and my brother also got phNota from my grandma and great-grandma since I learnt that the grand parents can treat the grand children as “brothers”. With a lot of festivities Bhai PhNota was over and in the evening we celebrated with fire crackers left over from Diwali which was 2 days earlier. I had a great time. A month later, I was back in U.S.A. It was midnight, and I was fast asleep. My sleep was broken by a loud ring. ‘Uhhh. never mind. Ma will get it..’ I muttered. It had been the phone. I just went back to sleep. That morning, I asked my mom, “What was that phone call about?” ‘Oh. well um.. your great-grandmother she passed away’. “WHAT!?” I yelled. My heart skipped a beat. “No…no…no…” I stammered, all day long. It turns out that my first 4-generation Bhai Phnota had been my last one for a very very long time to come.
Saraswati Puja is Coming
- Rishab Das
This is my 4th year doing Saraswati Puja in SBA. Many people are performing. I am one of them; I do singing and drama and a little bit of dancing. My favorite is drama. To be true it gets pretty boring. You have to go to lots of practices, practice makes you perfect. You have to remember what you learned because you don’t want to mess up on the stage. Also, you can’t be late because then everything starts to run late. In addition you have to fit it in your schedule. The good thing is every year you get to meet new friends and you get to see you old friends. You also get to eat good snacks. The bad news is that sometimes your parents get late because they might have to go to your sibling’s practices too. Maybe at the end of the Puja you get to go to parties. I really like when you get breaks, you get to run around and the teachers yell at you. After that the teachers tell you that the break is over. You have to do your performance well. Then we have the Puja and it is show time. The recital is the most important. You have stage rehearsals to make sure what spot to stay in. You get ready in the green room and you put makeup on. Every time you have the Saraswati Puja is at a school. There are about a few hundred people there. Lots of people get stage frights. The best part is when the performing is over and I get to play with my friends. There is one day of Saraswati Puja. That’s why Saraswati Puja is important to me. 7
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A Day at the Beach Trisha Ghosh It was a Saturday in the month of August when Mommy & Daddy planned a day at the beach. I woke up early very excited. I brushed my teeth, went downstairs to have a big breakfast of eggs, sausage and toast. My sister Trina ate eggs with waffles. We packed some more food along with beach umbrella, chairs, toys, balls etc. Soon we got in the car and headed towards the Belmar beach. While Baba was trying to find parking, we got out of the car to have some ice-cream. My grandparents were also with us who helped us to carry the chairs. It was hard to walk on the sand with our sandals, so we took them off and carried it all the way. The sand was smooth near the water and got bumpy further from the water. We found a nice spot near the water where we settled in to put our beach umbrella and chairs. Soon Trina and I started playing in the sand and build a big sand castle. The water was colder than expected and went in with Baba to play a game called ‘jump the waves’. The year before, Baba taught me to either duck when the wave comes or ride over it. This was the first time I was ducking the waves which was lot of fun. When we were done playing in the water, we ate some snacks and cooled off with a drink. A little later we tried to build a bigger sand castle which got washed by the waves. It was soon time to go, mommy washed the beach toys and Daddy was busy wrapping up. We washed, changed and got dressed to head towards our car. On our way home we stopped at a KFC for dinner. After our dinner we drove back home, we were all very tired. It was a terrific day at the beach and I wish to go back again next year.
A New and Old Time in Space
Snow Days
Shreyan Das
Arijit Dutta
Gazing at the world For the first moments of his life, Now taking his place on Earth He feels excited. Too weak to move He belongs to A new time in Space. As he lay down on his bed He takes a deep breath For the last moments of his life As he enters Heaven And leaves Earth, He smiles. He belongs to An old time in space.
Hurray! Today is a snow day, The snow is white and fluffy, Like a cloud floating in the sky, I go outside to play with my friends, We build a snow fort, big and strong, I come home, rosy and happy, And sit by the warm, cozy fire, A mug of hot coco in my hand,
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Invisible Girl
The Snowy Day
Ria Mukhopadhyay
Trina Ghosh
At night, you never know who comes out when you are sleeping. May be you have heard of Little Sweet Molly who always comes out at night. At night, you have mysterious dreams, that sometimes tell you the future, invisible girls who dance around and play catch with the boys. When it's raining , when it's pouring, these girls knit invisible mittens.
Looks Like:
White Cotton Balls
Sounds Like:
Wood Crackling
Smells Like:
Fresh and Cool
Tastes Like:
Yummy Vanilla Ice
Feels Like:
Cold and Chilly
And I Think:
Snow day is really FUN!
When the full moon is out, Coyotes howl at it as if it's a rabbit. Do you think there is a rabbit in the moon? When a kid loses his tooth, a magical tooth fairy appears and disappears . The next day Poof!!!!!!!! a coin under his pillow glows. Meanwhile, Santa comes every year. Isn't he very sneaky? I have always wanted to catch him. I would love for me to be the first one to do so. But I can't stop wondering about who comes out at night. Maybe I'll find out soon, because I am just an invisible girl.
Our Saraswati Pujo Shreya (Tua) Ghosh Saraswati pujo is a lot of fun for me. I love to dress up. My friends and I dance on the stage. I like to see the thakur and give her flowers. We eat samosas, my favorite snack. I look forward to our Saraswati pujo every year.
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Summer Fun - Atreyee Ghosh Last summer me, my mom and my dad went to a beach in New Jersey. I was very excited to go and helped my mom pack the beach bag. It took us one hour to get there. When we arrived my mom got frustrated because we had no umbrella and it was very sunny and hot. My dad dropped us off at the beach and went and bought an umbrella from a store near the beach. I changed into my red swim suit, put some sun screen and went in the water with my dad. The water was so blue and pretty. My dad and I jumped into the warm water. We played for some time in the water and then I went for a walk with my mom to collect some shells. I got some beautiful shells and some nice round stones. I was a little tired playing in the water, so I started building a sand castle with my dad. I decorated the castle with the shells and stones I collected. My mom gave me some Oreo cookies and blueberry muffins to eat and some fruit punch to drink. I took some pictures to share with my class. My dad took a funny picture of me buried in the sand with only my face sticking out. It was very hot that day so we started driving back. I found a lot of sand in my shoes and hair when we reached home. I love going to the beach and had a lot of fun that day. I wish winter can be over soon so that I can go to the beach again.
Family Tales - Sompurna Choudhury You can’t choose your family. Sometimes, I wish I could. I want a sister who listens to me, a dad who watches football, a mommy who makes sense, and a grandma who can hear better. But, of course, that’s not the case. My family has many great but awkward traits. Every person is strange and funny in some way. But my family has some particularly silly personalities that might make you laugh. My big sister, who I call didi, has a very interesting character. Though she is very conscious about her weight and makes sure to eat salad every day, she will give it all up when she sees chocolate. She also loves the color purple and free back massages. Though she really hates being called lazy and thinks it should be banned from the dictionary, she calls me lazy on a regular basis. Strangely enough she agrees that I inherited this feature from her. My didi is always saying: “Can you close my door?” – when the door is only few feet away from her chair with wheels, or “ Do me a favor and bring me my school bag from downstairs”, and also “I know you are in the middle of practicing piano, but I dropped my pencil, and can’t reach it, will you get it for me?” – But still, she thinks she’s not lazy. My dad, on the other hand is very different. He is hyperactive even though he’s rather old. He loves to clean the house, sleep, and bother my sister and me as his hobby. It is very frustrating when he expects us to be clean like him, but no matter how hard we try, our room becomes messy the very next day. He tells us to pick up our socks and put them in the washer rather than doing it for us and reminding us to do it next time. My dad literally stands in front of whatever it is we have to clean until we clean it. Another funny thing about my dad is when he plans to watch movie, he never watches it alone. He always makes sure it will be a family event. We have to finish all our work, drop all other plans, make popcorn, and pick our blankets before the movie can start. Of course he falls asleep by the 3rd scene; even if it is a movie he has been waiting to watch for a long time. When we discuss the movie or make a joke about it the next day, he is confused. The movies are rated depending on what time he fell asleep. Even though he has many silly habits, he is very helpful when it comes to education and sports. He helps me with my homework, takes me to swimming even if it’s at 5:00 AM, and does much more. Though my mom is beautiful and smart, she’s a walking contradiction. We are late for almost everything. So when we are desperately trying to get out of the house, suddenly her focus changes from time to beauty. She tells me to brush my hair, clean my face, and put on a nice pair clothes. A second after I begin to follow her instruction, she asks me what movies we would like to watch on weekends. Also when she is in her pajamas all day long on weekends, she is enraged when she sees us wearing our pajamas on our day off. My mommy also can’t keep track of time. But I love my mommy because she is warm, snuggly and huggable. Though she’s planning to lose weight, I think she’s fine just how she is. (continued on page 7) 10
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Baro Mashe Tero Parbon - Sourabh Chakraborty "How was the social studies test?" I asked my friend Matt. "It was really hard, like next to impossible." "That sucks. I'm going to have it this afternoon." "Don't worry, my friend. You'll have the blessings of Durga with you." I call Matt an "honorary Indian", because of his familiarity with Indians and their customs. I chuckled, "Nice one, Matt. Hey that's funny, the Durga Puja, when we worship goddess Durga, was just a couple of weeks ago." "I thought it was called Di-something." "Oh, you mean Diwali? No, that's different. We celebrate it a few weeks after Durga Puja." "Wow, that's a lot of holidays you guys have." "Yeah, I guess we do." I started to wonder about Matt's comment. There is a Bengali saying, "Baro mashe tero parbon." This saying means that we have 13 festivals in twelve months; basically, we like to celebrate. And whether it's for religion, tradition, or just to be with friends and family, we like to celebrate quite a lot. Although we believe in working hard, we always have a holiday or festival to look forward to. We celebrate our Indian heritage by celebrating the same holidays that we do in India. At the same time, we celebrate being American by celebrating American holidays. Diwali. Holi. Durga Puja. Saraswati Puja. We have brought many customs from India, and holidays are a major part of them. Whether it's the festival of lights, or of color, or worship of knowledge and arts, or of any Hindu god or goddess, we always have some festival or the other to celebrate. Sometimes, when we celebrate, we improvise parts of the celebration. For example, when celebrating Diwali, we use some electric candles as well as the traditional diyas. Also, we usually invite friends and family over for holidays on the weekends nearest to them. When coming to the USA, we Indians have brought over these festivals, and although we may change bits and pieces, the feelings remain the same. We celebrate American holidays, as well. Even though we may not celebrate the religious aspects of holidays like Christmas and Easter, we do the traditions such as giving gifts and hunting for eggs. We watch fireworks and have barbeques on the Fourth of July, and we all gather around and give thanks at Thanksgiving. We might decide to add in some Indian delicacies to the meal, and a taste of India in the celebration, but overall, the feelings are all the same. We celebrate American holidays because, as proud as we are to be Indian, we are also proud to be American. Whether it's an Indian holiday or an American one, there's always a celebration just around the corner. We celebrate the United States' independence on July Fourth, and then India's, on August Fifteenth. In spring we celebrate Holi and then Easter. In fall we celebrate Durga Puja, Diwali, and Thanksgiving, which is followed by Christmas and Saraswati Puja in the winter. We pray and give thanks for all that we have, and then we eat and have a good time with others. Overall, we Indians love to celebrate friends, family, and the joy of life. Continued from page 6 ….. The last but not the least is my grandma. She loses her sleep everyday thinking we have not eaten enough. As soon as I come home, the first thing she says is “what do you want to eat?” instead of “how was school?” Though her television is on all the time (even in the middle of the night) she complains that she never has the time to watch any show or movie. I am the designated ‘Grandma Caller’ around dinner time, because I’m the only one that can shout loud enough for her to hear over her blaring TV. However, I am so used to having my Grandma around that I cannot imagine our family without her.
Just like everyone else, I have a family that I’m embarrassed of. I couldn’t choose my family, but I’m happy with what I have. I love them very much even with their wacky traits. I couldn’t survive a day without any of them because they make my life complete and unique.
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The Black Cherokee Spreeha Choudhury The internship over the summer was a wonderful opportunity. It was in New York City, gave me the opportunity to do research, and gave me exposure to a world-class lab setting. Everyone said I would meet influential people, learn indispensable skills, and so much more, not to mention the fact that would look amazing on my college applications. However, no one had bothered to mention the traffic. Every morning, the hour-long trip, from my uncle’s house in Fort Lee, NJ to the Upper East Side of Manhattan, was unbearable. On one such day, just when I was ready to jump out of the car, I saw the Black Cherokee. I had to do a double take the first day I saw him. He looked absolutely outrageous standing on the side of the FDR highway holding a dripping watermelon over his head. Though I am not proud to admit it, I did exactly what I imagine every other person did: stared, pointed, laughed, and judged him before I even knew who he was. The next day, I was surprised to see the man again. I had not expected to see him again. This time, he was half naked, holding a cantaloupe and jumping up and down, signaling at the drivers stuck in traffic. My uncle, who was driving me, saw my confused expression and filled me in. He told me how this man called himself the Black Cherokee and how he always stood here doing one bizarre action after another. I passed it off as a weird guy doing weird things. This was New York City after all. The morning after, I was ready. I was ready to see the Black Cherokee, wearing a honeydew melon as a bonnet. His crazy antics could not faze me. I was so sure I had figured him out after just 2 days. But yet again, he astounded me. Instead of holding a fruit and making strange gestures, Black Cherokee was sitting somberly in a white wicker chair wearing red boxing gloves. He was quiet and still, but what was most surprising was the message he had written on a board behind him. “I’m Red, I’m Yellow, I’m Black, I’m White and I’ll Rather LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, not Fight.” That’s when my trance broke and I realized that Black Cherokee was not psychologically unstable. He was an artist. Now, he really had my attention. That night, I went home and could not wait to research the Black Cherokee. I found that his real name is Otis Houston Jr. He spent time in jail multiple times for dealing cocaine and heroin, was involved with gangs and had even been shot. However, he was able to turn his life around by taking art classes and even became vegetarian. Since his release in 1992, Otis Houston Jr. transformed into the Black Cherokee and made it his cause to promote peace, health and love. I was awed. The Black Cherokee was a bad character, but he had truly taken the lemons that life had dealt him and made lemonade. From that day, my goals for the summer were augmented. Along with acquiring knowledge in the lab, I was now gaining a different kind of insight and wisdom from Black Cherokee’s energizing messages. They ranged from warnings about smoking to the importance of respecting others and yourself. He celebrated every culture and every religion and flaunted his secularity. Many mornings, I even saw him doing yoga poses, reminding us to take care of our soul and body amongst our busy schedule. Suddenly I was not cramped or cranky in the car anymore; I looked forward to catching a glimpse of the Black Cherokee and his inspiring messages. They gave me the happiness of learning and opened up a whole new world to me. They made me aware of things I had not noticed before and gave me a deep perspective into what makes life beautiful. Though my mistakes are not as grave as Otis Houston Jr.’s, I still believe that I made a major mistake in my life - judging the Black Cherokee before I even understood him. He pulled himself up from bad beginnings and made himself a better person. By sharing it with me, he made me a better person. I am glad that I stopped to look behind the fruit, appreciated the meanings of his messages, and encountered the man in the white wicker chair. The Black Cherokee made me aware of my own failures, and at the same time strengthened my belief that life always gives you second chance to fix them. However, the most important lesson that I learned from him this summer: you may think you are an open-minded, liberal, and non-judgmental person, but no one’s there yet. It’s a journey, which I have only just begun. 12
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The Bengali Equilibrium Sudakshina Chattopadhyay Science has never been my forte – thankfully, this concession is no surprise to my family, and I’m grateful they accept me anyways. Yet despite my limited knowledge, that has now effectively blocked any notions of pursuing the doctor, scientist or engineer paths, I’ve managed to retain the basics. In science we learn of all the powers, elements and forces which sustain our world and means of life. With any system of existence there must be a balance. And that is where we learned of the equilibrium. I’d like to think that we Bangali’s pride ourselves in our well-roundedness, and rightly so! --“Did you hear? Shonali’s son just won the Olympic Gold for the 50m Freestyle AND this year’s Pulitzer Prize!” --“Na, really? And I just heard Abhijit talk about his daughter’s performance in Carnegie Hall AND her Nobel Prize in Physics!” --“Baaah!” OK. Obviously, I’m just kidding! But, in all seriousness, there is a greatness found in the balance our culture has assumed since the time of its inception. After all, the Goddess Saraswati represents all knowledge, music and arts, right? She’s always been my favorite God for that very reason. She encourages balance. In fact, no matter your culture or religion, balance is simply a human tenet we ALL strive to maintain. I find myself blessed because my family and friends have taught me the importance of balance. If you’re reading this article, more likely than not, you’re either an NRI (Non-Resident Indian) or 1st born generation child (like myself). Regardless of your status, you’ve already begun your journey to finding the Bengali Equilibrium. By simply living in the US, struggling to find the equilibrium is an inherent part of our daily lives. Now, of course I can’t speak for everyone, and so I’m restricted to my own beliefs and experiences. Personally, my balance has to be found between blood and citizenship. Born and raised in the United States, I couldn’t be more proud to carry around the powerful, navy blue passport embossed with the golden eagle and all that it stands for. But Durgapur and Kolkata will always feel like home as well. Balance began to emerge from the very beginning. At home it was Shakuntala. At school it was The Three Little Pigs. Remember, my family and friends have the greatest impact on my life and my journey to balance, thus circumstance has always guided the journey. My parents and grandparents ensured that no ounce of Bangaliness went malnourished (this applies literally as well, for my Ma’s Moosor Daal will FOREVER be my favorite comfort food!) Being brought up in such a household that lives and breathes this rich culture within a country that boasts the “melting pot” façade made it impossible to avoid mixing my home culture and statesman culture. I remember thinking once when I was really little, “Is it weird that I say ‘Bapi’ instead of ‘Dad’?” I contemplated trying out the “Dad” thing one day – just to see what it would feel like. I couldn’t do it. I was in fact a little ashamed to have thought about trying it in the first place. “Dad” just isn’t natural for me. It has always been “Bapi” and always will be. Even my friends call my dad Bapi. My friends catch phrase for our senior prom night? “Don’t do anything Bapi wouldn’t do.” True story! Though when we’re young, it’s so easy to mix and match our favorite parts and ideas. I think it’s human nature to take what we like, and eliminate the rest. But that’s not really how balance works, is it? I’m in my last year of college. More and more I start to realize that reality isn’t going to stop knocking on my door until I answer. As my Ma often says, “Chhotu, do you realize the gravity of the situation?” Again, you know my science is weak…draw your own conclusions. So I find myself wondering, how am I going to maintain balance in my life once we’re in the “real world”? My grandparents are thousands of miles away, but to this day, I still have to call them at least every other night. My roommates are accustomed to hearing shouts in Bangla around 1am since 9 out of 10 times the connection is still weak, no matter how advanced our cell phones claim to be. So my fear? Will I always be able to keep this up? The answer? Yes. But the responsibility falls entirely upon me, just as it does for all of us respectively. Balance will come if we seek it and work for it. You have to want it. And so I’ll leave you with a quote from a greatly beloved Bengali soul. “You can't cross the sea merely by standing and staring at the water.” – Rabindranath Tagore 13
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In the Twinkle of an Eye! Tapan Bhattacharya The tram has to slow down, as it makes this turn on to Wellesley Street, on its way to Wellington Square. Two boys with their school bags jumped onto the footboard of the second class compartment. Ramsaran the conductor saw them and frowned. He knew them. He knew they would not want to pay the one anna fare, like on other days! But today he did not care! He had bigger problems today! It was the first day of the fare increase by two paisa per ticket! He was having a hard time collecting the new fare from his seated passengers, they were grumbling! Some were outright hostile blaming him for the increase; they accused him, of being a dalal of the company! They did not care to know, that he, Ramsaran had very little to do with this…..the Burra- sahibs to sat in their offices in Chowringhee, made these decisions….they did not consult with second class conductors, like Ramsaran, when they made their decisions! It was not even nine in the morning, the sun was out in full force, it would be a very hot day. Nathan, the boy with a swallow complexion and a long nose, was excitedly telling his friend Shamsir about how this would be their last summer in Calcutta…..In August, the whole family would be moving to this place called Israel… a new country, set up for the Jewish people! His father was already there…Nathan said that his father had moved to a flat from which they could see the sea, it was blue! Nathan also said that he was happy that he would not be living on CK lane anymore………. CK lane was what Nathan called Choku Khansamah Lane (Choku Cook’s Lane), he hated the name, it was so embarrassing to tell your friends that you lived on a road, named after a cook! But, Shamsir, was proud of the name, Choku Khansamah, was his great- grand father and had been a cook for the bara-lat sahib, his father still worked as a bearer for the Governor at Raj Bhavan. How many people had roads named after their great-grand fathers! Shamsir, kept quiet, he became sad, he would lose one more of his friends! In the last two years, many of his friends from the neighborhood had left, Ismail and Sabbir, both went to Pakistan with their families. He knew as a Muslim, he could go to Pakistan……he would ask his grandfather, when he went home after school today, why couldn’t they go to Pakistan, a new place, like Nathan, Ismail, Sabbir! The tram clanged along, they were two stops away from the Wellington Square crossing, Shamsir could now see the crossing way in the distance. He could see a large crowd of people walking towards their tram, it looked like they were waving their arms in the air, shouting slogans, he could not hear them, yet! Oh no! Another procession, now they would late for school! The procession was being followed keeping distance by six mounted police spread across the road, followed by a large group of policemen in their lalpagris and white uniforms. As the crowd got closer, he could hear them, they were shouting, tram” vara barano cholbe na” (You cannot increase the tram fare), “goriber rakta chosa bando karo” (stop sucking the blood of the poor). As they got near the front of the tram, several of people, jumped into the tram drivers cab and pulled him down and started to beat him, shouting, “sala! companir dalal!” (Expletive, you lackey of the company!). Many of the first class passengers were now streaming out of their compartment and running towards the back. Shamsir, knew he should do the same, he tugged on Nathan’s hand, but it seemed Nathan could not move, his eyes were open wide with fright and his legs had turned to lead! Next, Shamsir smelled something, it smelled like burning oil and smoke moving towards their compartment, somebody had set fire to the front of the tram! Within moments, he heard the loud gallop of horses and over the din, the loud voices of the mounted police,” sala Communist log, tram jhala raha hai”,” sala log ko maro!” (Expletive,they are burning the tram, expletive, beat them up!). Shamsir, knew now they had to run, he now dragged Nathan off the footboard, shouting, Nathan run, run………..as they started running back, Shamsir saw that two of mounted policemen were galloping towards them, waving their sticks and beating people up, who fell on their faces on the road……….as they got nearer, he could hear the horses grunting, from the corner of his eye he saw one of the mounted police had raised his stick and about to hit Nathan on his head, to save Nathan, Shamsir tripped him and Nathan fell on the road face first, Shamsir jumped on him and covered 14
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Nathan’s body with his own, he heard the policeman cry, “bastard” and next he felt a blow on the back of his neck, then, everything turned black in front of his eyes! Shamsir, faintly heard his name being called, he was afraid to open his eyes……slowly as he opened his eyes, he saw Nathan’s face very close to his, calling his name. Shamsir face was wet, his mouth felt salty……..as his eyes got back into focus, he saw Nathan was not wearing his shirt….he in a hoarse voice, asked Nathan, what had happened to him! Nathan told him, that Shamsir had saved him by pushing him, but he had been hit by the police baton, he had passed out and when he could turn him, Nathan saw, he was bleeding from the nose…..to stop the bleeding, he had taken off his shirt and held it tightly to his nose, trying to stop the bleeding! He kept on saying, Shamsir you saved my life today, over and over again! Shamsir, saw he was lying on the road, he tried to get up, Nathan helped him to get on his feet, he felt wobbly, like the world was turning very fast, Nathan grasped him and both of them started to walk back slowly……towards home. July 2001. It had been a decent year so far. The New York stock market was slowly starting to recover after the 1987 meltdown. The brokers were again getting fat from their commissions and bonuses. The economy of the city was definitely getting better, people were spending more money in restaurants, the days of thousand dollars for a bottle of wine had returned! It was after six in the evening on a Wednesday night, it would inevitably be full tonight, as on Wednesday nights they did not have the cover charge for the bar. Shamsir as the maitre d’ walked up briskly to the front entrance of the restaurant. Just before positioning himself with the hostess in front, so he could greet some of the special guests himself, he took one last look at himself at the big hall mirror….his hair peppered with gray was combed back and in place, he straightened his black bow tie and his name tag. He was ready! How he looked, was important to him, after all, he was the maitre d’ of the most important restaurant in New York City, The Windows on the World, on the 107th floor of the World Trade Center, it was a long way from Choku Khansamah Lane in Calcutta! As guests started to show up, Shamsir greeted many of the regulars, some have known him from the early days, when he joined the staff here as a waiter, when it first opened in 1976. Around 6.15 PM, a group of six men walked through the front door, Shamsir’s experienced eye told him, that they were not regular New York types and that they were Jewish, several also wore yarmulke’s, the little round cap Jewish men wore on their back of their head. Shamsir, moved forward to greet them and enquire about their reservation. A man, who looked to be the oldest in the group, stepped forward and told him, that they had a 6.30 reservation under his name, Nathan Goldstein! Shamsir saw that the man was looking at him intently. He realized he was reading his name tag. Now, he asked him, if he had ever lived in Calcutta! He said yes, he had grown up in Calcutta, but had left, oh! Around thirty years ago! The man asked if he had lived on CK Lane, now Shamsir knew who this was, it was his old friend from Choku Khansamah Lane, and nobody else would call it, CK Lane! They embraced! Both of them started talking asking about each other, like they would catch up for the last fifty years in the next five minutes. As Shamsir, led the group to the table and seated them, he found out that his old friend now lived in New York and headed an Israeli business group. What Nathan could not tell him, that he was head of the Mossad (The Israeli secret service) in North America! Shamsir, told him, that he had left Calcutta thirty years ago, worked as a waiter on a ship, lived and worked in England and then came to America in 1972. Nathan wanted his old friend to tell him more, about Calcutta, about their old friends there, about CK Lane………….. Shamsir, said he would be happy to do that, but had to do it some other day , but now, he had to get back to his job……… They exchanged their cell phone numbers and agreed to call each other and get together soon! September 11, 2001 was a nice crisp fall day in New York. It was 8.35 in the morning. Shamsir, got off the train at his usual stop at City Hall, he got out on the street and was walking quickly towards the World Trade Center. He generally did not come to work this early, but today, the Risk Waters Group was holding their annual Technology Congress in the restaurant, there would be around hundred guests for breakfast and lunch…..he wanted the customers to be happy with the lunch, they were going to serve them today, Shamsir was going through the lunch menu in his head, as he stood at the pedestrian crossing at Broadway and Murray Street.
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Winter
Winter Story Books
Parama Das
Rohit Das
Winter is snowy Trees bend down to meet the white blanket Winter wonderland
Summer fading, winter comes-Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs, Robins flying, winter rooks, Like a picture story-book.
Bright sights Frozen tears fall to the ground This brings snow days
Water now is turned to ice or stone Where Dad and I can walk upon; Still we find the flowing brooks Like the picture story-book.
Winter is cold. Winter is when you have winter break. Winter is when you wear comfy boots.
All the pretty things put behind, Wait upon the children's mind, Sheep and shepherds, trees and rivers, Like the picture story-book.
Winter is when you bundle up with puffy jackets. Winter is when you wrap warm blankets around yourself.
We may see how all things are Seas and cities, near and far, And the flying wizards look, Like the picture story-book.
Winter is when you get sick. Winter is when you have snow days. Winter is when you play in the snow. Winter is when you have hot chocolate.
How am I to sing your praise, Happy chimney-corner days, Sitting safe in nursery nooks, Reading picture story-books.
Winter is like a very white and bright. Winter is a pretty season. Contd from page 11
Suddenly his cell phone rang in his pocket. He took it out of his raincoat pocket and put it to his ear. It was Nathan calling, Shamsir started to apologize saying that he was sorry that he had not called Nathan yet! Nathan cut him off, and very brusquely asked him where he was now, Shamsir told him that he was on his way to work and walking towards the World Trade Center, he would be there, in less than five minutes. Nathan told him, that he should absolutely not go to work today, and turn around and go back home immediately, Shamsir, started to protest, but Nathan hung up! The light changed, he could cross now, Shamsir crossed and started walking up Murray Street towards the World Trade Center, Nathan’s sudden call to him, did not make any sense to him! Suddenly he heard a clap of thunder, he looked up startled, thinking how could there be thunder on a clear morning like this, the sky the still clear blue, now he had reached the corner of Church and Murray, he looked up…..he gasped and could not believe what he saw….a big plane had hit the North tower and the upper part of the tower was on fire…… he started to run towards the towers……. The rest of that day was still a blur to Shamsir, he did not remember, what he did, how he got home……..a few days later, Shamsir called the phone number Nathan had given him, several times, it always said that the number did not exist or was disconnected! This story is dedicated to the memory of 79 individuals of all nationalities, who perished in the Windows on the World restaurant on September 11, 2001. This is a work of fiction. 16
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Buridi Prasun Chowdhury I cannot remember the time when Buridi was not in our house. I asked my older cousins and they also did not know when Buridi came to our house. When asked, she will come up with wildly varying answers ranging from ten to forty years, depending on her mood and time of the day. Buridi’s story telling was also legendary. All the children of the house will be at the kitchen surrounding Buridi while she was making “rooti” on a dark, rainy evening. The stories never had any ending. It was always a lot of details. We would wait eagerly for the grand finale. There was never a single one. It was always either the boatman falling asleep or she would change the backdrop to a village fair while the bandits were planning to attack the village. In sheer frustration, we will try to remind Buridi that Jadu-Dakaat’s group was planning to attack a wedding party in the mangrove. She will smile and claim that Jadu was a nice man, and she cannot fathom as to why he will ever plan such heinous acts. We protested and would tell her that she was the one who told us so. Buridi would think for a moment and then tell us that we just imagined it – she never told us so. She would also add that the day after she will warm some mustard oil and help all of us clean our ear wax. No one also knew where she came from. On one day, it will be a small village at the foothills of mountains. The next day, it will be an island on a crocodile infested river where people catch fish while sitting on the verandah. A logical cousin will explain that may be it is both. She grew up near the mountains and then the family moved to the delta region. We will ask Buridi. However, she would not agree to that. She would say that she grew up in a hamlet with red soil, little hillocks and a forest on the outskirts. She will claim that we are hallucinating and may be we were mixing up things. When told that it is she who is doing it, she would smile, put a betel nut in her mouth and told us to ask our parents to give us medicines which improve memory. Buridi always had a lot of faith in all of us and had a blind faith in our “intelligence”. She would always claim that the children of the house are the most intelligent in the neighborhood. Most of the credit for our stunning intelligence, however, would go to our regular intake of bitter tasting “karala bhaja” and spinach with “bori”. When one of the older kids reminded her that he regularly tucks way most of the vegetables under the chair, Buridi would beam and proclaim that now she knows why he is a bit dimmer than the rest of the kids. One day when our parents were out, this man came on our street with his monkeys to show tricks. When asked, he said that he will charge one rupee. I was in a big quandary. I had two rupees. But this man is asking for one rupee. Our parents and uncles told us to never pay retail price and to always haggle. So I told the man that if he can do it for two rupees, then he can have the monkeys show us the tricks. Hearing this, the man started laughing. Buridi became very angry and started rebuking the man. Ultimately, he settled for half a rupee. At night, I heard Buridi boasting to my uncle that how I will grow up to be a fine businessman. She noted how intelligent I was, that I never paid the retail price, and had the guts to negotiate with a stranger!
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Rabindranath Tussi Great Ho! Sanchoy Das Rabindranath Tagore, no name excites the Bengali DNA more than that of the great bard. Gifted as he was, the portraits of a sagacious man with pensive eyes, noble posture, and flowing beard further immortalized his roles of creator, patron saint and protector of the Bengali arts. But as we embark on this new century many are torn between the art of Rabindranath and the larelappa culture of the hoi polloi. There is little to rival a lively discussion between opposing Bengali groups one inebriated in the single malt of Rabindranath and the other the single malt of Bollywood. As I traverse down this rocky path, confess I must, that I am handicapped by my inability to read the great bard in his native tongue. Further, I have drunk copiously and frequently from the Bollywood barrel. So what’s the big deal, why are so many Bengalis obsessively protective of his art. Well let’s start with some quantitative measures. He was a prodigious artist and wrote poems, novels, essays, short stories, travelogues, dramas, and about 2300 songs. Wow! This guy was Tolstoy, Shakespeare and Mozart combined in one. We should all be glad he is not in our language arts class. They would have to create a super-duper gifted program just to handle his creativity. Next, let's evaluate his influence on Bengali society. Again, Wow! This guy’s got Rabindrasangeet, a musical subject all dedicated to him. Imagine if half the girls in your school district were part of the Rabindrasangeet choir, and loving every minute of it. Well that’s how it was in Kolkata, till a few years ago. Finally, pedagogy, a mechanism to teach the art to generations of Bengalis. Brilliant! Two universities focused on promoting his art and philosophy. At least one created by him directly to introduce an innovative hands-on open-ended style of teaching. Think about it, no other literary great created their own university. So, it’s clear there is no counter argument, Rabindranath is a big deal. Or in not so elegant literary prose, Rabindranath Tussi Great Ho! But what about the future ? It seems to me that the Bengali arts are still heavily anchored in the Renaissance initiated by Rabindranath and his contemporaries. The self appointed guardians are willing to accept a 10% deviation from the pure stream. But out of that range you are an outlier, outcaste, and out of your mind! I argue that this is holding back the natural Bengali creativity, and the great bard himself would champion the out people. Look at the new age Bangla Band movement, they broke the mold and what beautiful music. Across the USA I see many Bengali community associations embroiled in this discussion as they formulate their cultural programs. Well, in an effort to simultaneously throw fuel and water on this fire, I humbly adapt the great poem of the master himself:
Where the mind is without fear to explore the arts Where creativity is free Where culture has not been limited by immovable walls Where words quench the thirst of the modern mind Where music flows from contemporary passions Where song and dance are not paralyzed into stagnant rhythms Where the senses are stimulated by ever widening beats Into this evolving stage, my fellow Bengalis, I beseech you to awake.
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The Bengalis of Somerset Parna Banerjee It is said that man is a social animal whose sustenance needs not only food and shelter but also association of fellow human beings and companionship of friends and relatives. In fact, how much well fed and provided homo sapiens maybe, he will soon feel miserable if he is unable to interact with others of his species. It is an inherent urge in us, human beings, to share our success, pleasures and pains, joys and sorrows, thoughts and actions with our companions, friends, relatives or neighbors. So not surprisingly when destiny brought together a group of young couples and their children belonging to the same place of origin (the great land of Bengal) and sharing the same language and culture at a faraway place from their Homeland, they yearned for affinity amongst themselves. Thus providing the genesis of our very own Somerset Bengali Association (SBA). The desire to cradle and nurture our rich Indian culture even outside our country fueled the impetus for the formation of this Association. Although embryonic in the beginning, in four years SBA has grown into a sizable organization embracing nearly 100 families, mostly Bengalis living in and around Somerset County in New Jersey. With a handful of enthusiastic ready hearts, hands and purses the SBA organized their very first Saraswati Pujo in 2008 and needless to say, we had a very successful and pleasant experience. The same year we hosted the annual picnic which again was a grand success, followed by a Bijoya Sammeloni where it was fun unlimited. We are proudly celebrating our fourth Saraswati Pujo this year and hope to continue the tradition for years to come. Our annual summer picnic is a gala event with an abundance of fun, frolic and food. SBA also plans to embark on social, philanthropic and community services. The association provides a socio-cultural platform which aids in fostering closer ties between its members, enabling us to tap the wealth of cultural and literary talent within the primarily Bengali Speaking Community in and around Central New Jersey. To vent forth our feelings, flairs, emotions and latent talent what could be more satisfying than having a forum like SBA. Another unique aspect of SBA is it fosters a series of informal events, movie nights, wine tastings, ladies evenings etc. These social networking that cannot be achieved in formal events. The Somerset Bengali Association, aka SBA, a very vibrant Bengali organization, was officially registered as a nonprofit organization in January 2010, thanks to the vision, personal initiative and determination of its founding members. Our organization strives to portray and project a friendly cultural atmosphere amongst the Indian diasporas through various activities. Each growing year we welcome new members, making them a part of this ‘SBA Family’. While, linguistically it is a Bengali association, we are Indians at first and share the common goal of inculcating in our kids a sense of patriotism and love for their native land. It is our hope and desire to instill amongst our younger generation an appreciation of and a keen interest in our diverse culture. We as members of SBA wish to establish and extend a sense of identity and kinship within our growing members, nurture our souls with friendship and fun and bask in the rich heritage of the Bengali Community, of which the quintessential Bengali is so justifiably proud of.
“Hail to thee blithe SBA”
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Amader Monche Rabindranath - Surya Sengupta আভযা আভাদেয ভত কযে মিদ বািফ তেফ যফীনোদোযনাথেয নাটকগুিরেক েভiট িতন বােগ বাগ কযা মায়| ড: ুকুভায েন
অফোম নাটকগুিরেক িতন বােগ বাগ
কযেছেন| (ফাংরা ািতোমেয ইিতা, তৃতীয় খনোড, যোল যিচোেছধ. িকনোত,ু আভযা এত চুর েচযা িফচােয মাফ না| মাযা যফীনোদোযনাথেক
আজ এই যচনায উেদোদোম েরা আভযা
বারফাি, মাযা যফীনোদোযনােথয নাটক ভঞোচোথ কযেত
চাই, িফেল কেয োযফাে, তাদেয াভেন যফীনোদোযনােথয িফেল কতগুির নাটক উোথািত
কযা ও িনজেদেয অিবগগতায িফচােয,
বােরারাগায িফচােয
তােদয িনেয় আরচনা কযা| অিচ, আিভ ুকোভায ফাফুয একটা ফকোতফোম এখােন উধৃত কযতে চাই মা
োযিনধানমগোম|
ড: ুকুভায েন ফরেছেন,
"যফীনোদোযনাথেয নাটেক য জভিয়ােছ ঘটনায ংঘােত নয়, আদযোেয ংঘযোেল ও ফেকোতিতোময দোফনোেদ|
এই জনোম
মাাযা
ভনফেগোনোকুরতা োযতোমাা কযেন তাাদেয কাছে
নাটেক ঘতনাফাুরোম ও যফীনোদোযনাথেয নাটক
নিলোোযাণ ও কাফোমযািকোত ফধ ওয়া োফাবাফিক". এই উকোতিয তাতোযোম ও মথাযোত আভি ফোমকোতিগতবাফে অনুবফ কযেছিরাভ মখন কিছুকার যফীনোদোযনাথেয ফিখোমাত ছটগরো "নিীথে"কে নাটোমযূ দিয়ে কযেছিরাভ.
ওই
কািনীয
ভধোমে
মে
নাটোময
তা
নিিত
ূযোফে আভি ভনোচোথোম ছির
এক
ভনফৈজোঞানিক দোফনোদে ও ফিফেকেয দংনে. অজিত কুভায ঘল ভাই তায ফাংরা
নাটকেয ইতিা ুোতকে একই কথায োযতিধোফনি কযেছেন. ফরেছেন,
"যফীনোদোযনাথেয
নাটকেয ভধোমে-ও তাায যোফফোমাী কাফোমভয়তা ফিযাজ
কযিতেছে এফং ইা ভোূযোণ োফাবাফিক." পিযে মাই যফীনোদোযনাথেয নাটকেয উযকোত তিনটি বাগে. বাগগুরি র, ক) নৃতোমনাটোম, খ) যিতুযোজেয গীতিনাটোম ও গ) নাটক. আজকে দোফিতীয় অযোথাত যিতুযোজেয গিতিনাতোমগুরি ভূর আরচোম ফিলই নই. এই বাগে আছে াযদতোাব, পারোগুনী,
ফনোত,
যিতুযঙোগ,
েোফযোন,
ইতোমাদি. যফীনোদোযনাথ এই
গিতিনাতোমগুরিতে ভানুল ও োযকৃতিকে এক আকােয তরায় এনে অূযোফ এক োযতিকী কাফোমভয়তা ৃলোটি কযেছিরেন উদোদাভ মফনকে ঋতুয যুকেয ভাজে এেন.
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www.somersetbengalis.org আছে। জিজোঞাা কযরুভ, ‘কী দেখছ বাই?’ ে ফররে, ‘মে-ফ থ এখন কাটা য় নি ঐ দুযোগভ াাড়েয উয দিয়ে েই বাফীকারেয থ দেখতে াচোছি— দূযকে নিকট কযফায থ।’ ুনে তখনই ভনে র, ভুকোতধাযায উৎেয কাছে কনো ঘযছাড়া ভা কে জনোভ দিয়ে গেছে, কে ধযে যাখফে কে? আয থাকতে াযরুভ না, কে ফররুভ, ‘বাই, তভায জনোভকোলণে গিযিযাজ তভাকে থে অবোমযোথনা কযেছেন, ঘযেয ঙোখ তভাকে ঘযে ডাকে নি।’
যণজিৎ। োযণাভ। খুড়া ভাযাজ, তুভি আজ উতোতযবৈযফেয ভনোদিযে ূজায় মগ দিতে আফে এ বাগোম োযতোমাা কযি নি। ফিোফজিৎ। উতোতযবৈযফ আজকেয ূজা গোযণ কযফেন না এই কথা জানাতে এেছি। যণজিৎ। তভায এই দুযোফাকোম আভাদেয ভৎফকে আজ—ফিোফজিৎ। কী নিয়ে ভৎফ? ফিোফেয কর তৃলিতেয জনোম দেফদেফেয কভণোডরু মে জরধাযা ঢেরে দিচোছেন েই ভুকোত জরকে তভযা ফনোধ কযরে কেন? যণজিৎ। তোযুদভনেয জনোমে। ফিোফজিৎ। ভাদেফকে তোযু কযতে বয় নেই? যণজিৎ। মিনি উতোতযকূটেয ুযদেফতা, আভাদেয জয়ে তাঁযই জয় । েইজনোমেই আভাদেয কোল নিয়ে তিনি তাঁয নিজেয দান পিযিয়ে নিয়েছেন। তৃলোণায ূরে িফতযাইকে ফিদোধ কযে তাকে তিনি উতোতযকূটেয িংানেয তরায় পেরে দিয়ে মাফেন। ফিোফজিৎ। তফে তভাদেয ূজা ূজাই নয়, ফেতন। যণজিৎ। খুড়া ভাযাজ, তুভি যেয কোলাতী, আতোভীয়েয ফিযধী। তভায িকোলাতেই অবিজিৎ নিজেয যাজোমকে নিজেয ফরে গোযণ কযতে াযছে না। ফিোফজিৎ। আভায িকোলায়? একদিন আভি তভাদেযই দরে ছিরেভ না? চণোডতোতনে মখন তুভি ফিদোয ৃলোটি কযেছিরে েখানকায োযজায যোফনা কযে ে ফিদোয আভি দভন কযি নি? েলে কখন ই ফারক অবিজিৎ আভায ৃদয়েয ভধোমে এর— আরয ভত এর। অনোধকাযে না দেখতে েয়ে মাদেয
(Continued on page 24) 21
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Purano Se Diner Katha Bonani Mukhopadhyay
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The Snowpocalypse of 2011 Sharmili Rakhit The winter of 2010 began as usual, but at the turn of the decade, things were drastically changed. The average low temperature for New Jersey dropped all the way to 18 degrees Fahrenheit in January. As a result of the vast amounts of snow, there has been a plethora of school closings and flight delays. Within one week there had been as many as 12,000 flight cancellations. In northern Jersey, it has snowed several times each week for the entire month of January. Several times already, it has been forecasted that regions would get hit by as much as 2 or more feet of snow. It has been reported that the coldest day within the last six years had occurred in New York City. Other regions of the country have been hit by the recent storms. For example, in Atlanta, Georgia, although they had prepared the proper equipment for the upcoming snow, they did not have the proper people who could run the machinery. Consequently, some school districts were closed for as long as over a week. As a result of the recent, there has been an unprecedented demand for the national weather service, not only in the tri-state area, but nationwide. Statistics show that the traffic on the website weather.gov is five times its usual. As a result, the server has become sluggish and many users have been unable to check their local weather status. Most importantly, key decision makers and offices were unable to access the website due to the surge in traffic and were thus unable to retrieve real-time storm reports, weather forecasts, and radar imagery. In 2010, Congress had named weather.gov one of the top five worst government websites, and improvements are due in the upcoming spring and summer of 2011.
Singapore
Grand Patrons
Kushaan Misra
We would like to thank the following for their sponsorship of the Saraswati Puja
Bright lights blinding the eye Tall buildings touching the sky
Nabanita & Sudip Chakraborty Soma & Somesh Choudhury Manjori & Prasun Chowdhury Rajyasri & Sanchoy Das Lopa & Chanu Das Sudhakshina & Sarbshis Ghosh Parna & Kallol Ghosh Sharmila & Saurav Ghosh Reetika & Archan Misra Nazneen & Somenath Mitra Sangeeta & Krishnendu Mukhopadhyay Aparajita & Amit Ray Subrato & Rina Roy Sharmishta & Sumit Sen
Cars everywhere I look MRTs rumbling below the sidewalk Buses making their way through bus stations And people rushing to their destinations Shorts and t-shirts everywhere And umbrellas to protect you from the rainy affair A lot of fun things to see and do But the night safari is the coolest thing to do Singapore, so far far away I shall come back soon from far away.
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Saraswati Puja 2011 Cultural Program Schedule Time: 4:00 pm to 8:30 pm Middle School, Green Brook, NJ 4.00 Welcome Announcement
Shakuntala Sanyal Arka Ghosh, Rounak Mukhopadhyay
4:05 Children’s Songs Anandaloke, Bulbul Pakhi Maina Tiye, Dhitang Dhitang Bole, Tak Dum Takdum Baje, Aay Re Chute Aay
Conductor: Soma Choudhury and Paromita Mukherjee Keyboard: Spreeha Choudhury Ria Mukhopadhyay, Sunit Chakraborty, Ricky Das, Aabir Chakraborty, Sourav Chakraborty, Pritish Mukherjee, Aditi Roy, Rishika Roy, Kushaan Mishra, Soham Sen, Trisha Ghosh, Trina Ghosh, Shreyan Das, Rishab Das, Shruti Roy, Aakash Saha and Trina Sanyal
4:20 Individual Performances Dance: Ananda Kootarinar
Romoli Bakshi
Guitar: Fur Elise
Deblina Mukerji
Poetry: Bangla Tangla - Apurba Dutta
Joheen Chakraborty
Piano: Aye Tobe Sohochari
Esha Dhar
4:40 Children’s Team Instrumental Shono Mon Boli Tomay Awakening
Conductor: Amit Ray Deblina Mukerji, Paroma Das, Nina Ray, Sushmita Ghosh, Leena Roy, Nikita Roy, Kabir Mitra, Rohit Das, Sompurna Choudhury, Alex Kosnik Sourabh Chakraborty and Rounak Mukhopadhyay
5:00
SBA Board of Trustees: Saurav Ghosh Kreeya: Anjali Mitra & Spreeha Choudhury Audio Visual Quiz: Sangeeta Mukhopadhyay & Sudip Chakraborty
Announcements
5:15 Children’s Drama “Chaarmurti”
Director: Sharmistha Sen & Tushar Mukherjee Cast - Ankush Rakshit: Tenyda, Riju Das: Payla, Malhar Mukherjee: Kaybla, Rohit Das: Habul, Arijit De-Dutta: Constable, Parna Choudhury: Buri, Sunit Chakraborty: Inspector, Kabir Mitra: Gojeswar Souvik Ganguly: Jhonturam, Soham Sen: Dhunduram, Rishabh Das: Chele 1, Risav Dhar: Chele 2, Soumya Chakraborti: Meshomashai, Joheen Chakraborty: Ghutghutananda 26
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Bhuter Naach: Rishab Das, Kushaan Mishra, Shreyan Das, Ricky Das, Pritish Mukherjee and Rishabh Dhar Naach Director: Mausumi Majumdar Drama Props: Nina Ray, Susmita Ghose, Sanchoy Das
6:00
Recognition of Sponsors
6:10 Individual Performances Guitar: My Heart Goes On
Gold Sponsor: Qatar Airways Silver Sponsors: NYLife, Dish Network Bengali, Xoom Money Transfer
Sandip Mukerji
Song: Phule Phule Dhole Dhole
Puloma Sen and Tori Sen
Song: Nilaam wala cho ana
Pratik Hom Chaudhari
6:25 Dance Medley by Rhythms of Life Dance #1 - Inaugration Dance #2 - Lila Bali Dance #3 - Jhamkudi Re/Parvati Na Dance #4 - Ai Ka Dajiba Dance #5 - Morni Banka Maa, Jouban Chalke, Rangilo Maro Dance #6 - Bhangra Dance #7: Closing Jai Ho
7:05 Individual Performances Dance: Nagendra Haraya - a Shiva stuti Guitar: Nemesis
Choreography and Direction: Sunrita Mitra Dancers: Atreyee Ghosh, Ria Mukhopadhay, Dipshikha Roy, Shruti Roy, Katrina Kosnik, Runi Sanyal, Trisha Ghosh, Trina Ghosh, Aditi Roy, Nishka Abraham, Diya Pal, Shreya Ghosh, Tanuja Kosnik, Trina Sanyal, Parama Das, Julie Saha, Rishika Roy, Ramyani Mitra, Anoosha Banerjee, Riya Banerjee, Esha Ray, Anjali Mitra, Shivani Ghatak, Spreeha Chowdhury, Aparajita Ray, Rina Roy Mahuya Ghoshal, Shubhechha Pal, Sunrita Mitra Samhitha Batta , Anisha Chakraborty, and Prashanti Ramarapu
Mahamaya Bhattacharyya Abhishek Choudhuri
7:25 Modern Songs -Guest Artist
Rasika Shekar Zee TV Saregamapa USA Finalist
8:25 Closing Remarks
Thank you and Recognition to Directors and Guest Artists.
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Amader Monche Rabindranath (Continued from page 17)
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