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17 years ago on this day, the 6th of December, my school declared a holiday for the coming three days and I came home earlier than I used to, on normal days. When I asked my dad what this was all about, I was told, certain people had pulled a certain Babri Masjid to the ground and there was a curfew for the next three days. When I asked what a curfew was, I was told, it was a situation when the army took over the law and order of the state and people had to walk with their hand over their heads; if they didn’t do that, they were shot dead by the army. This was far too exciting for me.
Though we had to survive on bread and eggs for the coming 72 hours, I could not wait to go out and walk with my hand over my head. Alas, when I did indeed hit the road, holding on to my father’s forefinger, people were walking about like they always did; only, they were talking excitedly over the Babri masjid issue. But everything else looked as they always did. Nothing was different; nothing was alarming except an army truck that sped past us. As I returned home disappointed at not having been able to walk with my hands on my head, I thought I have to deal with this Babri masjid thing once and for all. And so, I confronted my father, asking him to give me full details of the incident.
He said that Babri masjid was a masjid located in what was once Ayodhya, the birthplace of Lord Rama (I had my Ramayana right by then, thanks to my grandma). A gang of Hindu fundamentalists (of course he didn’t use that word then) wanted to build a temple of Rama and had dismantled the masjid. Now this was all too confusing for me. If it was ayodhya then where from did the masjid get there? Did someone forcefully build it overnight or something? Then I learned that the masjid was built more than 500 years ago, probably pulling down a Hindu temple, like was the practice among Muslim rulers. Now I smelled a plot of revenge and things began to make sense. So I asked my father, these Hindu people, they were taking a revenge on Muslims, and what was so wrong about that? I do not clearly remember anymore what my dad had told me in answer to my tirade of questions that followed…
But folks, what I do clearly remember and want to help you remember, that it has been 17 years and yet, that time hasn’t proved long enough to wash off one of the most shameful incidents of post-independence India. For those who will tell me, that the Hindus have dismantled only one significant mosque while the Khiljis and Aurangzebs have dismantled thousands, let me correct you. Hindus may not have had the chance to destroy too many mosques, but they have built temples on quite a few Buddhists stupas. Even the famous Jagannath temple of Puri is conjectured to have been a stupa. So, as it follows, none of us are tolerant, none of us practice the doctrine of peace we so gleefully preach. We are all hypocrites and waiting for the slightest opportunity to tear each other apart. We live together, only because we are forced to; it is only the political boundaries and physical space that we share; we have never learned and nor ever will learn to live like one single community.
I am not here to pass judgment on something ministers and heads of state have failed to solve. I am writing this only with the hope that we shall at least remember what we have done and learn to be ashamed of our deeds; since that alone can perhaps stop us from doing something as shameful as ravaging someone’s place of worship or setting people and their lives on fire.
BJP - the party famous for its vandalism, religious fundamentalism and lack of reason, had called a bandh on the 30th of November. Since it was BJP, clearly the most powerless party in the state, none of us were prepared for so much as a stir on the streets. But what awaited us was something far from our expectations. The cadres of the party let hell loose on Kolkata and its suburbs. Train service was delayed - stalled actually, for a few hours, buses were set ablaze, car windscreens smashed, student pool cars held up and office goers harassed to name a few.
Now, the question that is eating me up (and others I’m sure) is that, if the BJP is one of the smallest parties in the state, where from did they get all these cadres? Did the import them from UP or Rajasthan? That seems unlikely. Because, those that were seen smashing car windows or burning buses on TV, all spoke Bengali. You might ask, what is the mystery then? Was it then some party political party of Bengal in odds with the UPA Govt. who helped them with all these cadres? Well, some people are taking names they are always taking nowadays. You know….but they are all ungrateful idiots. I am not going to take any names though, you do the guess work.
West Bengal is going through the birth pangs of a great political change. A change that is expected to alter much of what we now associate with the state. The messiah of this great change is Ms Mamata Banerjee, and besides the public support, she has somehow managed to get another set of people on her side who has in the recent past proved very crucial for channelizing public opinion - the Intelligentsia. All the state’s filmmakers, actors, poets, painters, singers and musicians have sided with her, aiding in the first place to nail the Calcutta Film Festival’s coffin.
The 17th of November was the last day of this year’s festival and I happened to pass by it and I was deeply saddened by what I saw. There were about fifty people loitering about the Rabindra Sadan, Nandan campus, when in its heydays, we hand to stand in queues several meters long, to buy tickets and collect free passes. For certain films, we had to buy tickets in advance for fear that it wouldn’t be available at all. On may occasions, people sat on the floor of the auditorium because there weren’t seats enough to accommodate the crowd. And the celebrities galore….oh the less we talk about it the better. From our very own Soumitra Chatterjee (he still hasn’t changed sides), Aparna Sen (she has), Mrinal Sen, and a host of foreign filmmakers and actors every year flocked to this cultural fest. I have seen some of the best films of my life at this festival and had a chance to witness such celluloid miracles as “Bicycle Thieves”, “Battleship Potemkin”, “King Lear”, “Los Olvidados” on a big screen. Even last year, it was not this bad. The enthusiasm had waned alright, but it had not disappeared. To quote a friend, “this year the Film Festival came and went away just like that.” Forget hype, there was not even any coverage.
I am wondering, is it because the people of Bengal has changed sides or are the rumors regarding the government’s and Cine Central’s shortage of funds true? Some are even saying that the govt. is planning to do away with the festival altogether. One of my colleagues said, “I am sure the festival if it exists in the new regime, will be called something like Uttam Suchitra Festival or Satyajit Ray Festival, considering Didi’s obsession with Bengali heritage…”
I am not sure what is going to happen in the future or what prompted the govt. and the people to desert the festival. All I know is that the Calcutta Film Festival is among the best of its peers in this part of the continent (in terms of its content) and if we lose it, it will be a matter of great shame for our race.
The Americans are perhaps, the most xenophobic race in the whole wide world. Their latest display of xenophobia is the movie 2012. Asteroids falling from the sky, cities being ravaged by storms, asphalt cracking up to reveal the vicious tentacles of aliens- all this so trademark American and so trademark Hollywood that it has begun to bore me with its predictability. Do not assume that I am writing this after watching 2012. No I haven’t and nor do I intend to. But the point is, this race is disgustingly preoccupied with fantasies of being bombed, flooded or attacked en masse.
If you give it a thought, you’ll discover that the first UFOs were sighted in that country, the most number of xenophobic movies and comic strips were produced there and consequently the largest amount of creative energy was perhaps directed towards portraying whole cities (mostly New York) being destroyed by aliens, goons, evil powers and so on. The focal point or climax of such attacks come with the falling of either the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building, depending on the inclination or preference of the director.
2012 is of course going to be another such movie and I am not going to spend a single buck after it. Honestly, I am tired of the likes of Independence Day and Day After Tomorrow. I do not care if the Americans are being attacked by aliens or the Jabberwocky itself. And the worst part of such movies is when the patriotic ‘Eagles’ of the nation set about saving the world or when the father of the world (American President) gives out a war cry pleading to the other heads of states to help him in his holy fight to save the world.
I wonder how even as late as the 21st century, these people cannot get over their great fantasy regarding the aliens, etc. Do they get some kind of kick out of such imaginings? If such is the case, I’ll leave them to their private communal fancy.
Well, I have been busy lately. Busy enough not to have time for my blog. Thanks to facebook, I am now a don and a farmer. Much of my time is taken up by farming and killing and looting people, looting banks and robbing pimps. I have several Italian restaurants, rented houses and a gang of mafia who help me kill others.
Now if that brings you to believe that I am a vicious and violent kind of a person, you’ll be quite mistaken. I also own a farm where I cultivate different crops, fruits and vegetable. In fact very often I help stray cats, cows and sheep find their way. Sometimes I adopt them, and at other times, I help others adopt them. This ‘others’ refers to my ‘neighbors’. The own farms around my farm and quite a few of these neighbors are people I do not know and nor do I wish to know them. I have them as my neighbors because they help me earn more points and coins. And this is particularly true of the Mafia Wars game. Of the 41 odd members in my gang, I know about 10.
Unlike in Orkut, where we added friends in order to chat with the, see their photos, etc. Facebook is very matter of fact. Very often, among people I know, the conversation runs like, “OK, so please remember to gift me a pig today and I’ll send you that hay bale without fail.” At more dangerous times, it goes like, “So did you send me that hand grenade you had promised?” and so on.
If not for anything else, I heartily thank Facebook for turning us into a race of farmers, restaurant owners and dons. Now in case you are wondering I managed to put in some time for my blog today, I’d like to inform you that my grapes, cotton, and watermelons will take some time to be ripe for harvest. And my energy needs to be refilled before I am able to loot more banks. So, you know, I thought, I might as well put down my thoughts on this page.
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